✨?Holy Sh*t, Good News!?✨

Hey babes ^^

Let me throw some mm goodies at you, and then dive right into some crazy life stuff that I’m going through atm. For those who just can’t handle reality and my long ass rambling—although it’s good news, promise—you don’t have to delve too deep. I know the world is tough and we can only handle what we can handle. It’s all good.

True Mates

There are things that we want, and things that we need. Sometimes they end up being one and the same.

PHILIP

All my life, I’ve known two truths: my best friend Jaeger is my true mate, and I’m destined to marry a princess I’ve never met for the sake of my kingdom.

Prophecy’s a bitter pill to swallow when you’ve tasted true love and are told it can never be. But I wouldn’t be worthy of my beautiful omega if I were willing to let selfishness be the ruin of my people.

Because as it turns out, prophecies are never quite what you think…

Alright, so some news. Some crazy, cool, kick ass news. I may have figured out why I’m sick and how to fix it, like, permanently!

Five years of hell…

So, if you’ve been following along for a while, I’ve been ill since, well, fuck, since I started as an author. Two years before that (so a little over 5 years ago) I was hit with this mysterious illness. Got a fever that wouldn’t stop and it knocked me from working a very active job where I ran wall to wall in this large retail store getting shit done, warehouse stuff—you know, being a basic, active human being—to being bed bound and wondering if I was dying. I got a Lyme positive on a test 2 months after, they started me on antibiotics, and two years later after doing everything I was supposed to do, broke buying meds I couldn’t afford without a job, uh, not much changed.

My health had deteriorated to the point I was being kept alive by cortisol and aldosterone supplementation. It wasn’t consistent, though. I would have these windows, weeks to months, or sometimes just days of being human. It was like there was a little switch inside where if it was flipped, I functioned. My muscles worked—they hadn’t atrophied or anything—and I could breathe, think, function. And when the switch was flipped the other way, I was a zombie version of myself.

There was no way to know when it would hit again, why it would hit, or what the hell was causing it. During one of those longer moments of ‘okay,’ I actually tried to go back to work, only to have it happen all over again. Running around doing normal stuff like a person, only to feel like I hit a wall and collapse a few months into the job. Except that time, no Lyme positive. They started questioning if the first positive was even legit—I guess false positives are a thing with Lyme.

I started writing around this time cuz there was nothing else I could do, and really, I needed a mental escape. Reading used to be that for me, but facing what I was certain was a slow, excruciatingly boring death, I needed to create my escape, places far more interesting and hot that could distract even me from my circumstances. Not many people hit their mid 30s expecting to die shortly after. I needed a fuck ton more than the sweet romance I kept stumbling across, especially when the docs started calling my condition ‘chronic fatigue’—a death sentence for getting help.

Seriously, I swear they might as well have said it was all in my head the moment they stuck that label on my file. It terrified me and pushed me to start looking for different answers instead of Lyme. What I had wasn’t responding like Lyme, and two years of antibiotics hadn’t done a thing.

The turning point was moving into my current apartment and seeing my health improve overnight. We figured out the old apartment was moldy. A water heater had burst on the ground floor, then there was water under the kitchen tiles… Oh, and (this sounds so fucking stupid looking back but I knew nothing about mold at the time) I had hung up and dried out these beautiful gourds one autumn in the kitchen, and then left them there until we moved, covered in dead mold. Because fucking brilliant, yeah?

So they started me up on allergy shots, where my immune system, which already targeted my thyroid with an autoimmune, had over-targeted so much, I was allergic to over 20 different things (many of those things related to mold and the cats and their prey they would drag into the house.) But hey, it was a plan, yeah? Allergy shots for the win. Except I kept hitting a plateau. I’d get better but I couldn’t get healthy. Still exhausted, still pushing myself at every turn just to do anything. Meals, clean house, errands? Don’t make me laugh.

Last year, around this time, things seemed to fall into place. My PTSD had a breakthrough—as in, gone, cured, just left with old patterns of survival software to clean up—and my health was looking better. The winter meant all the mold was dormant, and although this new apartment was much better than my old, the backyard is full of mold. Like, I can’t walk out there without having a reaction. But it was good that winter. I got Hellcat done, I was gaining ground, energy was happening. Then summer hit, I bought a bed frame infected with ‘something’ (we still have no clue what but we lost two rooms of the apartment to it,) and I was hit with Multiple Chemical Sensitivity, aka, living out of my car, in a mask, unable to breathe the most basic of scents without my body flaming up so much, I would lose motor function and find myself in extreme pain.

It was shit, but at the same time, it was another piece to this puzzle. Around this time we figured out something else monumental: the dopamine connection. My dopamine levels were bottoming out whenever I had a reaction, aka, Parkinson’s. I started supplementing dopamine precursors, such as L-Tyrosine and Dopa Mucuna, as well as adding in neuron repairers and dopamine receptor growers, and I saw huge improvements. I regained mental functioning and motor skills within months. Naturally, I thought the moment winter hit, shit would be perfect with the mold going dormant in the area. But still, plateau. Again. Exhausted, couldn’t do simple shit like stand long enough to cook or clean or focus. I had all the supposed pieces but nothing was working.

Fucking plateaus. Infuriating bullshit, yeah? Well, I think the last two weeks have revealed the answer. Finally. (Dear fuck, I really hope so. @_@)

Neurotoxins

I came across a few different articles on Parkinson’s that led me to realize the low dopamine was at the bottom of the stream. What that means is, it was the symptom of something else, not the cause. I was treating the dopamine problem, but I hadn’t targeted and stopped why the dopamine was dropping. Then I read this and it all clicked.

There were two huge clues (and so many small ones) when looking back that spelled it all out in connection to the low dopamine. The allergies and multiple chemical sensitivity = olfactory response to neurotoxins. Every time I smelled mold, my dopamine flat lined. I could walk into a moldy building while being full of energy and excitement, and in minutes be so weak I couldn’t lift my arms or walk. But apparently, there are two ways to get this response. One is through those olfactory senses when inhaling, and the other is through the vagus nerve, a nerve that also controls the heart (mine kept racing,) lungs (shortness of breath,) and digestion (yeah, I didn’t. My stomach has been fucked up for years.)

What this means is if there are neurotoxins in the gut, the vagus nerve connects to the brain and will also flat line dopamine. AKA, even if I was breathing the cleanest air, in a mold free, allergen free environment, if there’s something giving off neurotoxins in my gut, I will still get sick.

Yeah, the fucking plateau is literally inside of me. @_@ No wonder I couldn’t escape!

I should have put it together earlier, because gut problems are absolutely linked with allergies. That over-targeting thing usually happens because the immune system is freaking out with a battle in the gut and once the immune system is on high alert, it starts targeting more and more. There were just too many symptoms, too many false answers, or half answers, and it wasn’t until I realized Parkinson’s could be a result of both these systems being hit with neurotoxins, that it made sense. None of it was unconnected (which is kinda crazy on its own.)

Saw my doctor, who was also super excited when we noticed how garlic (a known candida killer) was giving me some of my life back every time I made garlic soup. I had made the soup because my broken tooth kept getting infected, and right around Halloween, suddenly I gained ground again, health, and it slipped when I ran out of that damn soup. So she put me on a heavy duty candida killer this time around. Candida produces acetaldehyde and gliotoxin, both highly toxic that can lead to neuron degeneration. Gliotoxin is actually produced by the same mold I was constantly being hit by, so I’m likely extra sensitive to it.

To be clear, the treatment it is both helping and kicking my ass atm. I’m jumping from hours of exhaustion, brain fog and really shitty muscle pain as the die off overwhelms my system, to feeling energetic and myself again. I don’t know how long this is going to take. I only just started treatment and I’ll be upping the dosage Tuesday (kinda terrified the side effects will get worse then,) but this does seem to be the answer, finally. Already, I’m less sensitive to my environment—well, when the die off isn’t killing me. XD My allergy response is less. Mold = back pain instead of immediate zombifying. I haven’t needed adrenal support, and the low grade fevers I was getting and the unstable feeling like I was going to shake apart before I started this treatment has stopped.

I really—even with all my complaining—don’t care about the pain or shitty symptoms of the die off. This is all going to pass, babes. This is the answer. I’m going to finally crawl my way out of this damp, musty grave, and I’m getting my life back. This was the last piece of the puzzle and now I have a plan. Avoid neurotoxins, heal damaged gut, and retrain the vagus nerve (you can improve vagal tone with a modified TENs machine used as a cranial electrotherapy stimulator, which I’m ordering this weekend.) It’s all there now, and I’m not trying to clean the mess at the end but stop the leak in the first place. This is a fucking win!

If I’m lucky, if I fix everything ‘upstream,’ the Parkinson’s symptoms will stop completely. I have no guarantee of that—and I have very effective dopamine supplementation if that’s not the case—but if I’m not bombarded with neurotoxins, it stands to reason there would be no dopamine lowering response. I guess we’ll see. My biggest fear was spring hitting and all my symptoms coming back with the mold waking up. If I can get the Candida overgrowth dealt with, who knows? It might all be shiny. <3

Bullet Journal and removing stress

An amazing woman turned me on to the whole Bullet Journal thing, and it has been awesome to help me keep track of all this health stuff side by side with my creative stuff. I need an organizational method that works for me, and so far this has adapted to all my needs. I also need to get away from the time suck of the Internet. Talk about flashy, distracting black holes of creativity and happiness.

I’m trying really hard to stay on track while dealing with this next level of health stuff. With BuJo, creating the structure for each aspect seems to be the time consuming part, but once it’s in place, it’s like any proper system. It works as long as someone is there to fuel it.

I’m really looking forward to being more productive as a writer and getting these novels completed and out there. There has been so much I want to do since getting my brain back. I just need some damn energy to go with it. I actually started revamping the Demon Virus short as I plan out the visual novel I want to make once I get those PATB novels done—sorry if you’re missing it under the free downloads. I should have it back up there soon enough. I’m just a little distracted by my health.

Let’s face it, I’ve been distracted for a long time. My biggest goals the last few years have been to find ways to not obsess over getting better, to not stress, to learn how to cope with not being who I believe I am when it comes to my health. Chronic illness is life consuming, and it takes a lot of energy and intention to spin that around to something positive so that life can continue with happiness and hope. Finding gratitude and every silver lining, learning to let stress go and ignore the things you can’t control, and then let go of the guilt of ignoring the things you can’t control—this shit is hard… and so worth it!

It’s hard fighting my old PTSD wiring, and worse, it is impossible fighting every voice on the Internet who pops up to say for whatever reason, I’m not allowed to be free of stress and pain, that I’m supposed to cling to that shit. People do it all the time. They judge others who try to break free. They can’t help it. They see someone do something different and they need to reaffirm why they’re doing things their way to the point of beating down anyone who speaks up.

Every time I post something remotely enlightening about freedom from pain, it’s not agreement that comes along, but voices who want to argue about it. No joke, every fucking time. It’s actually amazing to watch people logic themselves into why they need to suffer merely because I announced they didn’t have to, but, you know, I was talking to myself because it’s Facebook and they were triggered because ego is triggered at the thought of freedom from pain. It’s seriously amazing.

Here’s a list of just a few things I’ve been doing to stop my stress and I’m sure someone will be pissed off with something. I stopped listening to the news and Internet news even though Trump is president and he’s in the middle of an ethnic cleansing at the southern border. I refuse to read most authors posts on Facebook because they keep causing drama over pointless shit. Unless it’s an email I care about, I don’t even bother opening, sorting, and deleting them, but let my mailbox automatically delete after a certain amount of time. I don’t answer my phone for anyone but 2 specific people. I stop following people who talk about depression or illness like it’s their identity, something that defines them instead of a chemical imbalance that is altering them, because I have no interest watching someone sink down a drain of despair without them fighting to be free.

I am done being sucked into the toxic world I can’t control, with my eyes wide open like if I somehow watch it all, I will be able to prevent any of it. Hello, PTSD, I am done. Time to be free. Saving people from there pain is just as quick a way to drown as drowning in pain, and no, I don’t feel guilty for not showing up anymore. Without pain, I didn’t learn to be free from it. It was what drove me to find my freedom, and let’s be real, it was a fuck ton of pain, the last 5 years plus 30 of PTSD. I’m good. I don’t want to sink back into that place just because other people enjoy the suffering.

Life is going to happen whether it’s perfect or not, and we don’t get a do over or reset. It doesn’t have to be the end of the world if you have a false start or fuck up or your body just isn’t up for the same challenges other people are. It doesn’t have to mean a damn thing. If you never compare yourself to another person, another dream life you had, you will never be dissatisfied with what you have. And no, I don’t need to cling to dissatisfaction like it’s supposed to drive me to be a better person—fuck that irrational logic of holding onto pain. I am done being unhappy wishing for something that may never be. It’s just so much easier to be happy with what I have. And when I’m content and happy with what I have, I absolutely attract more happiness, creativity, and love my way.

We don’t get to choose a lot in life, but we do get to choose how we feel about it all. It’s probably the only real choice we have, so might as well choose with intention. We can enjoy this moment now, and the next, and be satisfied and not have to feel guilty for being satisfied with less when others have more. It’s okay to be happy.

Peace starts within

I hope you’re all having a great December so far. Depending on what holidays you celebrate, or if you’re working in a tough environment, or traveling, etc., this time of year can be really stressful. It can remind us a lot of what we don’t have instead of what we do, and who we’re missing instead of who we have. If you find you’re alone this time of year, or even surrounded by a ton of people, I hope you remember the one person you’re going to be with from the day you were born until the day you die, and do something nice just for you. Someone has to remember you, and who better to do it than you? ^.^ (You’re like, right there. Come on!)

Legit, that’s my wish this season. I hope each and every one of you does something beautifully selfish and doesn’t feel any guilt over it. Hell, doing something you normally feel guilty over without the guilt would be awesome. People are too cruel to themselves. Get enough sleep for a change, or eat something fancy, alone, and enjoy every silent bite. XD Buy yourself the gift you want instead of waiting for someone else to guess. Get organized; that’s my selfish ass thing, boring as it might sound.

Taking time to get my life together, no matter how long it takes, is lovingly selfish. Everything I go through in this bullet journal is me deciding what is important in my life and what is just useless stress, and then choosing to do the important stuff. The damn thing is like a commitment to self care at every step, and I’m so grateful someone dared to share it with me!

I’m going to assume that the next month will be a lot of ups and downs for me with this Candida treatment. I’m still writing, still updating the website, but I’ll be taking a Newsletter break to keep one less stressors off my plate. Hopefully, the next time you all hear from me, it’ll be with more good news and after getting lots of writing done, but until then, take care, luvs and be kind to yourselves in new ways.

<3 Sadie Sins

?Vampires For The Holidays??

Hey babes,

Wendy has a new book out and guess who made the cover!?!!!

…it was me. I made the cover. XD Look at the pretties and read it! <3 Threesome with a vampire.

Okay, you guys ever see those Disney turned realism paintings? I feel like this guy could totally pass for Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid. It wasn’t my intention, but he totally looks like it… maybe, sorta. XD

Not as much as this guy though, holy crap! @_@ Better hope no seawitch steals him away… >_>

As for me…

Um… not much going on outside of writing. I’m making a list of terms and creatures from The Paranormal Academy For Troubled Boys world for reference as I write the series, which I’m totally loving. I was thinking since I kept using null-collars and null-cuffs in this world, I should probably just call magicless people nulls, but I wasn’t sure if it sounded too easy—yeah, cuz I care a bit if it’s like too obvious. @_@ But I think it works with the whole theme. Better than nonparnormals because this way you can address paranormals who just don’t have magic, cuz yeah, that’s a thing too.

I was also thinking in the rewrite, one of those weekends when Dorian is avoiding Wylie to prevent sparking (cuz he’s just too sexy for his own good,) I’d intro the outside world a little bit by having him portal out. And then have Wylie actually go on a hunt with the other shifters, cuz although it’s implied, I never actually show that shit. Did you know Fox can run halfway up a tree and do a back flip? I feel like we should all know that. XD I also never show the resolution of Leo’s conflict arc, I just let it get lost in all the other stuff. Leo has the first of his turning around when dealing with the whole Dorian thing, and it might be nice to see.

Leo hasn’t actually been at the Academy too long. He showed up right before Vincent, and he’s such a loner, and difficult personality, he’s only now starting to crack and relax into Academy life.

Sorry, I’m rambling like a mofo. My mind is clearly on the books and not on the newsletter. Hope life is treating you all well ^.^

This Week’s MM Goodies

FREE – Ghost In Love

Alexander Preston just moved in to dorm room 418 and discovers someone else living there; the undeniably attractive ghost of Christian Holmes.

A mystery, a murder, and a lost love; these are the events that conspire to bring Alex and Christian to the revelation that even across the realm of life and death, love can still exist.

$0.99 – The Unexpected Santa

When a rugby bad boy butts heads with a retired Marine, which alpha male becomes top dog?

Scottie Monk came out of the womb angry at the world. He’s selfish and bitter. “Bah humbug!” rolls off his tongue far easier than “Happy Christmas.”

Gray Baird has dedicated his life to public service as a Marine Corps officer and later as a police chief. The decorated hero finds it impossible to ignore autistic twins in desperate need of holiday spirit. He’ll be the grumpiest Santa in the world if it puts a smile their faces. And he’ll drag a reluctant Scottie along for the ride.

This December, Gray and Scottie collide while unexpectedly playing Santa.

$0.99 – All I Want Is You

One kiss under the mistletoe destroyed a friendship. Will another Christmas kiss remake it into something better?

Eli hasn’t been home since he left at eighteen with a heart aching from his best friend’s rejection and his father’s intolerance. But when his father reaches out, Eli figures it’s time to make peace with his family. He doesn’t expect to come face-to-face with Turner too — or to learn that the straight friend he’d foolishly loved is actually bisexual — but once the shock wears off, he knows exactly what he wants for Christmas.

Turner’s life isn’t everything he’d once planned, but he’s happy to be the shoulder his loved ones lean on. They keep him busy, which is just as well since none of his dates have really clicked. He hasn’t been able to connect with anyone the way he did with his former best friend. When Eli shows up for the holidays after years away, Turner doesn’t know what hit him. But he knows one thing: This time, he wants to give Eli a reason to stay.

?Catching Up With MM Freebies and Goodies?

Hey babes, it’s been a while.

Things are actually really good. About (3?) weeks ago, right around Halloween, something shifted in my life. Not sure if it was the mold going dormant from the winter weather, the new probiotics I started up—magic? There’s always hope for magic XD—but I found myself adapting up instead of down for a change. I have so much energy. I actually hadn’t realized how little energy I had until it all hit me. I suddenly had a clean house, was eating daily, cooking again, getting errands done. I was able to focus writing for hours on end and not feel like crawling up the walls. I caught a cold soon after, and yet I still had more energy with the cold than before. It’s been damn good.

So, for those who checked up to see how I’m doing, no worries. Besides a few annoying things (such as a broken tooth with an exposed nerve just in time for Thanksgiving,) I’m damn fabulous. A little nervous as I wonder what might happen when the heat returns and the mold sprouts. I may have to find a frozen wasteland to live in full time…

So, what fun stuff to share? I carved a pumpkin for the first time this year! Not like carved, er, sculpted? Is that what they call it? It’s a 3d thing. Let me hit you with some pics. It’s of Pan from Pan’s Labyrinth, one of my all time favorite movies to be honest. I ran out of time, but I think his face came out pretty cool, if not totally orange. <3

Writing has been amazing. It’s flowing, it feels good, and I’m really happy with the direction it’s all going. Delving back into Demon Arms has been awesome. I love having the viewpoint of Theodore and Michael, some older (although not always mature) voices to balance out Wylie and Dorian’s younger perspectives. Theodore is such a study in grumpy coolness. XD

A little unedited preview for those curious <3

He unclipped the strap from beneath his despoiler coat and pulled free the sheath and encased diamond sword. When Theodore could trust that his voice wouldn’t reveal too much of his evening, he finally spoke. “Worried I was dead?”

Michael grimaced at the accuracy of the statement and lowered his cup of tea. The intricate clock on the wall behind him displayed it was just after 3 A.M. “It’s the first time a dragon has been placed on the registry, ever. If I didn’t have the boys to protect…”

Theodore turned toward him. The white cloth folded in his hand carefully moved along the laser smooth surface of his sword stained red. “I would have called if I needed help.”

Michael’s eyes sharpened at the blatant lie, and Theodore looked away. He busied himself with cleaning the deadly blade. Michael’s gaze felt like a razor as he accessed every sign, every tell of when he’d been too slow that night, when his reflexes failed and his speed hadn’t been enough. It was as if he were flayed from his coat and clothes, and every injury, every bruise was revealed.

Michael’s unwavering stare landed on the blood dripping down Theodore’s fingertips. He sipped his tea. “So, how did it go?”

Theodore shrugged noncommittally. Pain lanced through his shoulder from the movement, and his jaw tightened. His eyes slid over his desk and to behind Michael where he kept a collection of rare, beautiful objects. Some were weapons as well, but most were art. Dragons of lore from different cultures representing sea monsters, fire breathers, and earth burrowers posed along the shelves. His gaze stopped on a coil of an Asian style dragon formed from gold, and then returned to the blade in his hands.

“The skinners found a dragon tonight, just not the one they were expecting.”

Michael exhaled slowly and placed his mug on the desk. Without looking, Theodore flicked his fingers, and a coaster appeared and went sailing across the room to land right next to the cup. Michael blinked at the sudden appearance and obligingly nudged the coaster beneath his tea.

“Dead?” Michael asked quietly.

Theodore licked his fangs as his inner dragon shuddered at the memory of hot blood. “Two. I lost the third in the ether before I could get a tracer on him.”

Michael jumped up from the chair. “You were hunting in the ether? Have you lost your mind completely?” He moved around the desk, and his green bunny slippers flopped with each step as he headed right for Theodore.

Theodore fought the impulse to throw his hands up, to strike out, to slash with the very convincing weapon in his hands that would prevent whatever physical contact was imminent. A shadow flickered in Michael’s stormy gaze, and he stopped short as he read the discomfort in Theodore’s stance. Michael’s fingers twitched at his side as he held back whatever compassionate impulse he had intended on indulging.

“It wasn’t planned,” Theodore said tersely. “I’m not reckless.”

Michael shook his head and reached up to rake at his golden hair. “No, it’s never planned. But if you were sensed in there…”

“Clearly, I wasn’t. I’m alive. I’m here.” Theodore’s pale, violet eyes flashed steel. He turned and carefully placed the clear sword into its display sheath. He stared at it once he was done, not really seeing anything but the swirl of black and scent of blood still around him. “I still have prey to find. I’m sure he’ll offer me a chance to take his life soon enough.”

Michael’s gaze slid down to the splatters of blood beneath Theodore’s feet. “You reek of blue ash. Can you even feel your arm?”

“It’s fine,” Theodore muttered. He gripped his upper arm delicately and gritted his teeth when pain lanced down his side. “You know how quickly I metabolize.”

“Maybe when you were twenty,” Michael shot back. “That shit is dangerous in high doses, even for shifters. I feel lightheaded just smelling it. The last thing I need is you falling into a coma.”

Theodore rolled his eyes as he turned from the wall. He resisted the urge to brace himself no matter how much the room insisted on wavering. Michael’s disapproving glare came into view, and he growled warningly. “I’ll stop in with Rob once I’m updated on the kid.”

Michael’s mouth remained tight with worry. “You can see Wylie for yourself in the hospital. He hit the nullifiers on the way out of the transport. He’s down for the night.”

“Fine,” Theodore grunted. He hitched the sleeve of his despoiler jacket up his bleeding arm and brushed past Michael. He paused at his desk and pulled the stack of wards from a pocket and threw them next to the cheerfully bright cup of tea. He scowled when scarlet splattered onto the top heptagon ward and blurred out the intricately drawn insignia. “Fuck.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed, and his suspicious glare followed to where Theodore was scowling at his desk. “It usually takes a lot more to knock a dragon out.”

Theodore sneered as he used the outside of his coat to clean the blood from the ward. “He didn’t hold up well to interrogation.” He pulled the chiggers and a poisoned dagger from his pockets and slammed them into the desk drawer. He immediately spelled it shut while ignoring Michael’s outraged shout.

“For fuck sake, Theo!”

“For fuck sake, Theo,” Theodore mimicked under his breath. He lifted his head when Michael stalked over, and his tone turned defensive. “The kid’s fine. There was no time, the little punk had a mouth on him, and, well,” Theodore grinned sharply, “He started listening to me once he realized I was the strongest thing he was ever going to meet.”

“No! You will not stand here and justify your sadistic, territorial bullshit.” Michael grabbed Theodore by his good arm, the tension in his fingers revealing he’d rather be shaking him. “These are patients, not enemies, not challengers. Patients!”

Theodore stiffened in the grip and his breath stilled in his chest. When he met Michael’s gaze, the violet color had drained from his eyes to reveal an otherworldly white.

“Whiteheart, my dragon has feasted on death tonight. The scent of blood is all around us. Kindly refrain from touching me unless you’re volunteering to be the next offering.”

Michael’s angry expression grew darker, but he pulled his hand away and took a step back. “Theo, he needs protecting.”

Theodore tilted his head, and color sparked back into his eyes as his dragon withdrew. After a beat, he waved his hand dismissively. “It won’t happen again. I was worked up.” His lips tugged down into a grim frown, and he turned away to dig through his pockets. A cell phone, five empty vials in need of refilling, and a compact mirror clattered onto his desk. “I was afraid for the ignorant punk. My fuck, what an idiot.”

“He’s not the only one,” Michael growled under his breath. “It better not happen again, or I’m going to be the one who links with Doe.”

“No.” Theodore whirled back, fire flaring in his eyes. He went to point at Michael, then thought better of it as his blood splattered in an arc on the floor. “Shit.” Theodore took a steadying breath and tried again, calmer. “I’m Doe’s guardian. No one else can protect him the same way. It has to be me.”

Michael’s chest heaved, and he exhaled heavily. “I know. We all know. I just need you to not hate him for it.”

I think way back in the day, Michael and Theodore probably fucked. I mean, you don’t end up being the few to survive while everyone you know ages and dies around you without hooking up once in a while out of basic companionship for sanity. They’re BFFs even if they totally can’t stand each other some days. They hated each other way more when they first met. XD I wonder if I’ll ever get an excuse to write the two of them when they were young and Theo’s family is killed off one by one… Hmm.

I’ve been writing their backstory, if you can’t tell. Just filling out some more extensive character sheets I plan on sharing eventually. Doing a terms sheet too, because I want the world building to be more extensive. Squee, I’m totally nerding out over it. <3 I’m sorry it’s taking so long but I’m glad I’m making the effort because it’s going to make all the books going forward way better. If you missed it, you can read the first five rewritten scenes on the site here.

This Week’s MM Goodies

$0.99 Nocturnal Beloved: MM Immortal Lovers Romance

Julian Castrow is a young man tending at the local bar, the Hopper, serving drinks during the night and going to college during the day. Life is going at a steady pace until a vampire walks in one night changing Julian’s life forever.

Graham Beliviston is a considerably young vampire whom finds his attraction to Julian, strange and alluring. Usually he feeds and moves on, but something about Julian makes him yearn for more understanding of the mortal. But love can be hard for an immortal when there are vampire hunters on the move, and they’ve got their eyes set on the young mortal lover.

What will happen when a bond between an immortal and a mortal is inexplicably created?

$0.99 Beneath the Autumn Sky

“I could look into your friend’s disappearance,” Daniel found himself blurting out. After a few minutes of awkwardness, he mentally kicked himself. The sheer look of shock was more than enough to make Daniel regret those words, but even more so when Alec’s grip tighten. “No, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure? I know a couple of guys at the police station. I could-”

“Please Daniel. Just…leave it be.”

Daniel stopped. He couldn’t help but turn away, looking at the small plate of vegetables. Before he knew it, he nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

He was about to take his hand back, but he couldn’t. It was warm, and it was the first thing he noticed. “Hey Daniel?”

“What’s up?”

“I love you. You know that right?”

In which love and death dance within the confines of Autumn. This collection includes The Devil’s Playground, Mayhem, Hero, and Promises.

$0.99 Game Time: Gay First Time Sports Romance

Things Can Get Hot Off The Ice 

All Scott has wanted since a child was to represent his favorite hockey team, but after a couple of seasons toiling away as a second string he’s traded away unceremoniously. At first it hurts, but he vows to play well enough to make them regret ever letting him go.

He’s welcomed at his new team by Mark, the personal trainer, and the two of them form an instant bond. Scott is unable to deny the attraction he feels, even though exploring it could jeopardize his standing among his new team-mates. Mark is an anchor to Scott, until everything around him starts to sink.

Scott is forced to ask himself if his career is more important than his personal life. He’s already lost one dream, can he afford to lose another? And when it comes time to face his former club, will he prove them right or wrong?

Free! Surrender: An MM Erotica Short Story

Jonathan Estes could have just went home for Thanksgiving. Fortunately, he stayed behind to enjoy the solitude of campus. When his roommate and crush, Jake Kettleman, decides to stay, Jon begins to fantasize about what the holiday could bring.

Jon knows Jake could have any girl he wants. But on Thanksgiving Jake gets something more than a girl, he gets his kinky dorm buddy.

Self-revelations turn into sexual revelations in this short story about two men exploring their own bondage fantasy, and each other.

This is a story with BDSM

??A Smexy Halloween!??

Hey babes,

Think I wore myself out this week or so with all the cleaning and such. But I’m looking forward to all the trick-or-treaters ghouling it up in search of a sugar high, and, of course, all the paranormal mm fiction that pops up around this time of year. <3

I’ve got Taken By Beasts knocked down to $0.99 this week, and free to read in KU. So if you haven’t snagged it yet, it’s a good time. I had hoped to edit it up but timing and me rarely work well together. @_@ I’m sure it’ll happen. Seeing as Hellcat was supposed to be a Halloween fic and ended up publishing in March, I think we all may have a wait on seeing me edit the old stuff up.

And let’s be real, I’m just so excited about the Paranormal Academy for Troubled Boys! If anything is going to eclipse my life, it’s that. While writing Shiny Thief, I got to this scene I hadn’t expected (I love it when that happens) where I got to really explore Justin’s werewolf side. I realized I only touched on the background characters in Demon Arms, and really want to remedy that going forward. I want this world to feel in depth, concrete, freaking awesome, really!

Is it a good time for a sneak peek?

It’s not properly edited, but I’m kinda loving crazy Justin. He has such a nice duality, and I didn’t realize I wanted to have him basically be a split personality until recently.

I have all these ideas spinning as I hit the part of the Demon Arms rewrite where Wylie first arrives at the Academy. It’s this question of, ‘how do I show/portray these characters instead of describe them?’ In Demon Arms, I told you Justin was a werewolf and had ‘crazy’ moments, but I never showed it. I never showed you Fox so hyped up he’d be distracted enough to run in front of a car. I really want to find entertaining ways to show these things instead of just summarizing on the page. I think it’s just a better reading experience (or so, I hope.)

So here we go. A little excerpt from Shiny Thief right after Justin goes crazy wolf, takes on Leo, and Forest comes to the rescue. I imagine you won’t all have the context to know what the hell is going on or who Raider is, but still, Justin being wolfish and Forest saving the day!

Forest was a dark shadow melting through the dimly lit woods. He was long, lithe and limber as he slunk low to the ground and poured from brush to tree trunk with absolute grace. Even though the black leopard wasn’t in his natural habitat, he padded through the drifts of snow crossed with shadows with a predator’s ease, his yellow eyes darting for signs of movement. Whiskers twitched in the distance, and Forest’s ears perked forward as he caught sight of a rabbit nibbling unsuspectingly at a rare sprig of green among the white of the forest floor.

Forest’s tail slashed behind him in anticipation as he crouched. His muscles tensed, and his eyes never left his unsuspecting victim as he watched the rabbit dig into the snow and reveal a fresh, green root. The moment the rabbit ducked it’s head to eat, Forest leapt and shot out from behind a shrub and darting with precision. Snow flew up around him in a spray of white that glittered as it caught the fading sunlight.

“Bunny!” A whir of black, purple, and green darted past.

A scarf flattened across Forest’s face, and he stopped short. His momentum sent him tumbling in a heap as he slid across the snowy floor. A dusty cloud of snow rose up where he landed. By the time the glittering spray faded, Forest’s human form was revealed, crumpled in the snow. His dark hair was a mess, and jacket twisted unnaturally from his fall, but otherwise he was unharmed.

Forest’s eyes landed on the green and purple stripped scarf that was tangled around his shoulder and half in his face. He grabbed it with a hiss and pulled it free. “Dante, that rabbit’s mine!”

A child’s laugh rang out full of undisguised mirth. “Not when you’re so slow, it isn’t.”

Forest’s yellow eyes narrowed. He was pretty sure he had said something similar when he sniped a chipmunk from the pipsqueak’s sights just the other day.

“Doesn’t matter; it got away when you nearly squished it. No one wants a smooshed bunny.” Dante jumped over to where Forest had fallen and peered down at his grumpy expression. Dante’s green eyes sparkled with mischief and his cheeks were flushed rosy from running in the cold. “Race you back to the Academy?”

Normally, Forest was happy to kid around with Dante. Today, after his frustrating dead end with Raider and weeks of his heat, everything was just pissing him off.

“Brat, you could have been seriously hurt,” Forest snapped as he pushed himself up on his knees and brushed down his snowy jacket with quick swipes. “What if my cat didn’t realize who you were and he attacked you? What if I fell the wrong way and broke you in half? You have to be careful.”

Dante tilted his head, a faint smile twisted on his lips. “Pretty sure you’d have to be able to keep up with me first.”

Forest snarled. “You little…”

A distant howl echoed on the wind, and Forest and Dante immediately fell silent and turned toward the sound.

Dante bit his lower lip worriedly. “That sounded like Justin’s bad wolf.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it did.” Forest got to his feet and fished Dante’s scarf out of the snow drift. He wrapped it around the shorter boy’s neck a few times and made sure he was bundled up.

“It’s the full moon tonight,” Dante reminded as he stared out into the woods and listened for more howls. The normal bird calls were silent after the werewolf’s call. Even though no more howls could be heard, the lack of sound made it even more ominous.

“I know. Justin’s going to be having a harder time being himself today.” Forest sighed when he saw Dante’s gloves had been lost, or maybe never even put on before he went outside. “Listen, I want you to stay here. If Justin is acting crazy, he’s going to feel really bad if your feelings are hurt.”

Dante scoffed and shook his head. “No way. I’m not going to leave him alone with that crazy wolf in his head.”

Dante took a few skipping steps toward where the howl had come from, then turned back to wait for Forest. One side of his scarf unwound from his slender shoulders and dangled down around his knees, somehow already dusted in fresh snow. “Come on.”

Forest sighed under his breath. He was well aware if Dante wanted to go, he would do whatever the hell he wanted. The paranormal of unknown origins, who didn’t look more than twelve, was beyond stubborn whenever it came to making sure his friends were okay. Dante was also slippery, and always showed up or disappeared whenever he pleased.

“Fine, but stay behind me,” Forest insisted. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“You’re the one who tripped,” Dante pointed out quietly as Forest reached where he was waiting.

Forest scowled and pushed his dripping hair from his face. “Yeah, yeah. Well if I can smoosh a bunny, I might end up smooshing you too, huh?” He ruffled Dante’s hair. “You don’t want to end up all squished by a giant leopard.”

Dante snickered and ducked away, his hands rising to comb his black locks back into place. “You’d still have to be able to catch me.”

Forest smiled bemusedly, but his expression darkened the further they walked into the thick stand of trees. The soft, serene sounds of the woods muffled by snow were replaced with growls, roars, and grunts of exertion. It sounded like a hunt gone wrong, a hunt with a very pissed of lion and werewolf.

Dante bit his lower lip as he peered out into the woods and the sounds of growling echoed on the air. “Fighting.”

“Yeah, that’s Leo’s roar. We’re close.” Forest quickened his pace, his heart stuck in his throat. If Leo was fighting Justin, shit could go seriously bad really quick. Leo had monstrous strength and a tentative hold on his explosive temper on the best of days. These had not been the best of days for Leo.

Forest’s strides stopped short when a distorted howl ripped through the air. “Justin. Oh shit.” A terrifying thought struck him, and Forest took off running. If Justin’s crazy wolf had taken over and he was going after Leo, there was no promise he’d stop until someone was dead.

“Stay back,” Forest ordered Dante as the clearing up ahead came into view. Forest leaped over a stand of brambles and burst through the underbrush. His sneakers hit the icy pavement of the driveway hidden in snow, and Forest tried to catch his balance as he stumbled to a halt. His eyes darted from where Raider was crumpled in the snow, Justin was standing over him snarling like a ferocious animal, and Leo was pushing himself up from a painful sprawl.

“Holy fuck.” Forest swallowed hard when he saw Leo’s throat and the center of his chest were coated in blood. From the distance, he wasn’t sure if Justin had gotten his jugular or if the blood was purely from the slashes on his face. Leo didn’t look like he was about to drop from a killing blow, and it was the only thing that kept Forest from freaking out and going cat.

Justin smelled all werewolf, a sickening mix of dark magic and twisted canine. It was something Forest had thought he had grown used to until now, hours before the full moon with the scent of blood hot on the air.

“Raider, are you okay?” Forest called, his voice hoarse. He couldn’t see if Raider was injured, but for whatever reason he was just lying in the snow. Forest tried not to assume the worst as Justin’s growl tore through the air.

“He’s fine,” Justin snarled. “Mind your own fucking business.” Before Forest could respond, Justin stalked to where Raider was hunched, dazed in the snow. Raider blinked up, his expression one of bafflement when Justin grabbed him roughly by the hair.

“Don’t worry, bitch. None of these fuckwits are going to take you from me.” With a fierce growl, Justin crossed the distance and crushed his lips against Raider. Raider whimpered into the rough kiss and relaxed in Justin’s arms. His lips parted readily as Justin’s tongue stroked into his mouth.

“Son of a whore,” Forest groaned and slapped his forehead. “Michael was right. Fuck, Michael was totally right.”

“Who’s Justin kissing?” Dante stepped up beside Forest, his head tilted curiously at the sight of Justin pulling kiss after breathless kiss from Raider’s swollen lips.

“Raider. He’s new.” Forest shook his head as he tried to clear away the guilt of nearly doing the same to Raider less than an hour ago. Whatever Raider was, it fucked up alphas types hardcore. It had to be a scent thing. If Justin’s crazy wolf was calling Raider a bitch, it was totally a scent thing.

Dante nodded slowly. “Okay. But why is Justin kissing him?”

“Because he’s lost his shit and apparently it’s contagious,” Forest muttered as he desperately assessed his options. Getting close to Raider might leave him just as fucked up as Leo and Justin. Forest’s cat wasn’t an alpha, but he was definitely interested in Raider enough to make a total ass of himself if he wasn’t careful.

Forest was torn from his worried thoughts when Leo lumbered to his feet and immediately took a swing at Justin. The werewolf jumped back with magically enhanced speed, but only noticed too late how he had given up his position over Raider. Justin sneered when Leo pulled Raider into his arms and kissed him with possessive intent.

Dante watched the exchange with interest. “Why is Leo…?”

“For fuck sake.” Forest quickly reached over and covered Dante’s eyes when Leo made a grab for Raider’s ass. “Listen, I can’t really explain the exact craziness of everything at the moment,” he said under his breath as he pushed Dante behind him. “I’m going to draw Justin and Leo into the woods. When I do, I want you to help Raider and bring him to the Academy. I think once Leo and Justin are away from Raider’s scent, they’re going to start acting normal again.”

“His scent?” Dante raised his head and his small nostrils flared.

“Yeah, I think he has a messed up scent and it’s fucking with the alphas. Shit, and Leo is still in heat.” Forest groaned in dismay and pushed his wet bangs from his face. “What a fucking disaster. We’re lucky Leo hasn’t torn Justin to pieces yet.”

“Justin’s really fast,” Dante reminded quietly, his eyes glued on the way the werewolf had just charged at Leo and the alpha lion had charged back, only to end up face first in the snow. “Justin’s scary fast when his wolf is out.”

“I know. I’m not going to let them hurt you, okay?” Forest reassured even as fear gnawed at his gut. He had yet to see Justin’s wolf control his friend for this long, and he was growing more and more worried it was somehow permanent. “Wait here, and I’ll draw them away. It’s going to be fine.”

Dante raised his eyebrows as Forest stepped away to confront Justin and Leo. “I’m not afraid of…”

“Shhh.” Forest dismissed him with a frantic wave. The closer he got, the more he could smell Justin’s alarming werewolf scent. It was difficult to know if his panic was from the situation or the instinctual fear that filled any shifter animal when the cursed scent was around.

Forest crouched down and grabbed a handful of snow. “Leo! Justin! Get it the fuck together!” Picking the one still standing and hovering possessively over Raider, Forest threw a snowball at the back of Justin’s head.

Justin jerked to the side before the snowball could connect. He whirled, and his blazing amber eyes narrowed with deadly promise on Forest. Forest tried his best to hide his fear while behind Justin, Raider collapsed to the ground with a whimper.

Forest had never seen Justin like this before, not for such a long, focused interval. Justin’s crazy wolf had only ever come out in short, sporadic moments, usually while bitching over stupid, territorial stuff that plagued alphas of all species. Forest could only hope that it had everything to do with the full moon, and it wasn’t some sort of heat, or worse, a new evolution. Some werewolves, their vicious wolves took them over until the human was lost completely. Forest had never thought that could happen to his sweet, empathetic friend, but seeing Justin like this had him terrified he was about to lose Justin to the curse forever.

It had to be the scent, the moon, something. The killer glaring out from Justin’s eyes had always been trapped before, and surely he would be trapped again.

Forest whipped another snowball at Justin, who didn’t bother to move this time. The snowball exploded in a spray of slush and ice as it struck Justin on the side of the head. Justin snarled, his normally sweet face was full of his murderous wolf as he deliberately wiped the snow away with his wrist. The blood smeared across his nose and cheek smudged down, staining his face red as Justin glared.

“Are you seriously so fucking dumb you’re challenging me?” Justin demanded, his voice distorted by his cursed wolf. “What the fuck is wrong with you dick for brain cats? I can take both of you fuckers out in a minute if I wanted to. Just go the fuck away.”

Forest’s stomach twisted as he heard the truth in those words. The thing was, Justin probably could take them out, easy. While a shifter might have extra strength, grace, and primal instincts, a werewolf had that on top of the unique abilities of the curse. Justin’s crazed wolf would make him stronger just as he was faster, it would make him ruthless in any fight without an inkling of morality as to when to stop, and it would allow him to heal in minutes from any wound while a shifter would bleed out until dead.

Magic could be used to restrain a werewolf, but Forest wasn’t a magic user, not really. He had some ability, but he was totally shit at it. They all liked to make fun of Fox for blowing up the Body Magic classroom all the time, but Forest was pretty sure if he tried as much as Fox did, he’d be just as terrible in his control. The only way to really stop a werewolf was to kill him, and Forest wasn’t sure he had that in him, not when it came to Justin.

Leo suddenly roared as he lumbered back to his feet, and Forest’s eyes went wide when the lion shifter charged right at Justin’s back.

He wouldn’t win. And if Leo did win, it wouldn’t solve anything. There would still be at least one crazy alpha trying to claim Raider.

“Shit!” Forest growled. His heart pounded in his ears as Forest bent down and gathered what he could of his tenuous magic into his palms along with the feel of icy cold snow. It was pure instinct when he stood and a wave of magic and snow shot from Forest straight at Justin and Leo.

Snow flared up in a brilliant cloud of white, blocking out the overcast sky and the view of the crooked branches and sparks of orange tinted light through the trees. Forest only had a moment to wince when he realized he had created an actual wall of snow, seconds before it all came crashing down right in the spot where Leo barreled into Justin’s slender form.

Forest peeked through his fingers, having at some point covered his face at the sound of flesh slamming into flesh. He stared with growing alarm as Justin and Leo’s fallen forms were covered in heavy clumps of snow and buried in a giant mound of snow. “Shit. Shit, don’t be dead.”

Forest shot forward and frantically began digging into the heavy pile of snow. Glittering dust stung at his face, eyes, and nose, and coated every inch of him in an icy powder that was threatening to choke him and freeze his lungs. Forest didn’t feel the cold on his numb fingers as he clawed through handfuls of wet snow and pushed piles aside. The fabric of Justin’s blue jacket peeked through the heavy snow, and Forest swore and patted around the area as he sought his friend’s face.

“Breathe,” Forest ordered the moment he found a few strands of Justin’s brown hair and pushed the snow from his face. “Breathe and be fucking normal, man.”

“What?” Justin blinked his snow crusted lashes open with an effort and revealed his human, gentle brown eyes. He stared at Forest for a few bleary moments, then his gaze strayed to the blue tinted snow he was practically encased in. Justin’s eyebrows drew down the center as he fixed back on Forest’s concerned gaze. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Nothing happened,” Forest said quickly. “You’re fine and nothing happened.” He could see the panic growing in Justin’s eyes. In moments Justin’s breathing was shallow and his chest heaving as he was hit with the understanding his wolf had taken over.

“What did I…?” Justin pushed at the snow covering his chest, only to start at the streaks of red revealed in the snow. He lifted his hand up and stared wide eyed at his bloodied fingers. “Forest? W-what… What did I do?”

Forest inwardly groaned. “He’s fine, I swear. You’re fine. Justin, please, just focus on me, okay?” Forest leaned over Justin until he was all he could see. “It’s going to be fine, I promise.”

But it wasn’t fine. Forest could see it in Justin’s eyes as tears welled in the brown depths just as great as his panic. It had to be a full loss of memory. Justin always freaked out the most when he found gaps in his memory, even the smallest of moments. In those dark lapses he imagined the very worst his cursed wolf might do without anyone to stop him. Being covered in blood was only going to affirm that when he lost control, others were in danger.

Leo’s hand shot out from the pile of snow next to them, covered in slush, and both Forest and Justin yelped in surprise.

“Shit, I totally forgot,” Forest muttered, mortified he had left Leo to freeze in the pile of snow. It was too many crises at once, and Forest absolutely defined Justin freaking out after a ‘crazy werewolf slip’ as a crisis.

“Who is it?” Justin whispered, fear clear in his eyes as he stared at the hand clawing to get free of the snow.

“Hold on, big guy.” Forest scrambled in the slush, his jeans quickly soaked as he leaned over and sought out Leo in the pile of snow. He could only hope the overgrown lion shifter had also come to his senses with all the snow to cover Raider’s scent. Forest started pushing the snow aside, and his eyes went wide when the snow beneath him rocked in an alarming lurch. “Shit.” He fell back, just getting his legs cleared, when Leo pushed up and big chunks of snow fell from his shoulders in heavy clumps.

Forest swallowed hard as he tried to read the flashes of emotions that twisted at Leo’s fierce, bloody features as the lion shifter fought his way out of the avalanche. Dressed only in jeans, Leo pulled himself up with pure strength and then sat on top of the mound of snow and panted for breath. His tawny eyes focused on Justin’s pale face where the werewolf was still half buried.

“I fucked up,” Leo announced.

“What?” Justin gaped at Leo and focused on the four vertical slashes cut into his face. Justin’s expression crumpled and he struggled to get out of the snow. “Oh, no. Did I…?”

“I attacked you,” Leo said gruffly. “I lost my shit when hunting that deer, and your wolf woke up to defend you.” His eyes were sharp as he stared down at Justin’s panicked face. “You were protecting yourself, that’s all.”

“I was?” Justin blinked a few times as he tried to absorb the new information. His gaze fixed back on Leo’s bloody face, and a hot tear ran down Justin’s cheek. “Your face… I’m so sorry, Leo!”

Leo grunted and shrugged aloofly. “It’s nothing that can’t be healed.” His gaze darted to where Raider was huddle in the snow out of Justin’s sight. He fixed back on Justin and forced an awkward smile. “It’s kind of hard to see like this, you know, with the blood in my eyes. Could you help me back to the Academy?”

“Of course!” Justin pushed at the snow covering him with a determined, damn near desperate expression. “We’ll go right now. I’ll carry you if I have to.” He wiggled his hips to loosen the heavy snow and punched at the edges to create space to pull himself free. After a few kicks, Justin managed to twist and pull out of the mound of snow. He balanced precariously at the top of the pile and reached for Leo’s hand to help him to his feet.

“Do you want to lean on me?” Justin asked, blind to just how far Leo would have to bend over if he took him up on the offer.

“Nah.” Leo grimly scrubbed his palm down his face and roughly wiped the excess blood off. “I just need you to make sure I don’t go wandering into a tree or some shit.” Leo tried to smile to soften the words, but with the wicked slashes on his face and the blood that had gotten on his teeth, the effect was garish.

Justin smiled hesitantly and released a somewhat hysterical laugh. “Okay. I can do that!” he said too boisterously as he scrambled to get down the snow pile.

Forest breathed a heavy sigh of relief as Justin tried to help the towering Leo down the side of the slope. Leo had only just started to make an effort when it came to Justin’s sensitivity to his curse, and it was kind of a shock the lion shifter was able to put aside his current anger to do so now. Leo wasn’t exactly known for being nice. Most of the time he was an overbearing dick.

“What?” Leo grunted when he caught Forest staring at him with an odd expression on his face.

Forest smirked and shrugged. “Just thinking maybe you should have your face slashed more often. You’re almost being nice.”

“Fuck off, dickwad.” Leo flipped Forest off and stomped his feet into the unstable pile of snow to keep from falling as he made his way down.

Snorting to himself, Forest eyes fixed on the patch of bloody snow where Leo had pulled free. It had been a close call and he wasn’t in a hurry to see it happen again. The sooner they got Justin to the safety of the Academy, the better.

Forest tumbled intentionally down the side of the snow pile and landed on his hands and knees. He pushed up from the ground and brushed the snow from his pant legs. He didn’t realize his movements had caught Justin’s attention until his voice rang out in the growing chill.

“Um, guys, who is that?”

“Crap,” Leo hissed.

“Shit.” On glance at Justin’s wide eyed look of horror confirmed the dread twisting in Forest’s stomach. “It’s just the new guy, Raider. He saw you fighting, that’s all…” Forest fell silent as he turned and found Dante standing over where Raider was hunched over in the snow. There was a strange look on Dante’s face, one that grew when he suddenly swooped down and kissed Raider on the lips.

Forest gaped, at a complete loss for words as to what he was witnessing. With a fierce shake of his head, Forest recovered enough to grab a handful of snow and chuck it at Dante. “Hey! What the hell are you thinking?”

Forest stalked surefooted over the ice and stopped to loom over Dante, who was still kissing Raider. He grabbed the boy by his too long scarf and pulled him away. “What the…?” Blood was smeared on Dante’s lips, which the boy was quick to lick away while staring at Raider.

Raider touched his lower lip gingerly around the cut that had been nipped there. His dark eyes were full of confusion when he finally looked up at the two of them. “Are you a vampire?” he croaked.

“For fuck sake.” Forest covered his sleeve over his mouth to avoid breathing in Raider scent. “Why the hell did you do that?” he demanded of Dante, who was blithely brushing the snow from his knees.

“Everyone else kissed him. I just wanted to see why.” Dante shrugged off Forest’s angry glare and turned to where Leo and Justin were gaping at him. “Are we going back now? I want to play with Wylie.”

Forest closed his eyes and tried to take a steadying breath. “Yeah, sure. We’re going back right now.”

“Achoo!”

There was a collective gasp, and Forest grimaced. He refused to open his eyes. If he didn’t open them, there was no way things could possible get worse.

“Oh shit.” Raider whispered. “Fuck no.”

Forest cracked an eye open, then immediately opened the other. His jaw fell open and for the life of him, he couldn’t bring himself to shut it. “Did you just…? Fuck, you did.” Forest continued to gape as all proper words escaped him.

On the top of Raider’s head now twitched very large, very furry raccoon ears. If that wasn’t bad enough, his darkly tanned skin had gained a new black coloration around his eyes and fingers reminiscent to the pattern of his inner animal. Raider looked up, a desperate expression on his masked face as he stared at his clawed hands. Behind him on the snow covered ground, a long, fluffy tail ringed with black stripes flicked back and forth in agitation.

“Well fuck,” Forest finally blurted, his cheeks turning red. “You have the flu.”

This Week’s MM Goodies

$0.99 Taken By Beasts: A M/M Erotic Halloween Collection

This collection contains five never before released, steamy paranormal stories of monsters and the innocent, handsome young men they call prey *cough* boyfriend, written by the mistress of dubcon, Sadie Sins. Inside you’ll find five unique storylines containing friends to lovers, straight to gay, mild BDSM, and even a few group, taboo moments. It has furry full moon transformations, haunted houses, Halloween parties, evil witches, horny sorcerers, sexy demons, a cat shifter in distress, the rare minotaur, a stalking vampire, and a pack of rude, trash talking werewolves that don’t take no for an answer. Not to mention, the promise of a happy, claw biting ending. This book will make you downright beg to be a victim.

Halloween has never been quite so naughty as when you’re Taken by Beasts.

The Same Page

Aidan Greene and Liam McCullough feel like they’ve aged out of the bodyguard business—but a desperate call from former client Slava Vishinev draws them back. In a story ripped from the headlines, Slava’s gay son Arseny has vanished in Chechnya, where homosexuals are persecuted and imprisoned.

What was Arseny doing in Chechnya, and who is the enigmatic Italian who ends up in police custody with him? Answering these questions will take Aidan and Liam on their most deadly adventure yet, deep into the heart of a war-torn former Soviet state where danger lurks around every corner.

The stakes are high – innocent men depend on them for rescue from imprisonment and death. Will Aidan and Liam be able to rescue Arseny and help him carry out his plans—and make it back to Nice for their wedding?

$0.99 Operation Makeover

Will a makeover bring his fantasy to life or lead him to a love he never saw coming?

As a professional X-ray tech, Ridley has come a long way from the geeky kid Jace took under his wing in high school. Not that his best friend has noticed. Tired of pining, Ridley decides to show Jace what he’s missing. And what better way than with a newer, more sophisticated look?

Cole’s clients at the salon where he works love him dearly. Men? Not so much. He has dated one mistake after the next, and he’s beginning to wonder if a guy exists who can handle his fabulousness. Then Ridley lands in his chair.

Cole agrees to be Ridley’s makeover guru, and they click effortlessly. But when Cole offers to help Ridley with his sexual confidence, passion flares and boundaries blur.

Ridley’s had his heart set on Jace a long time, but when he’s with Cole it feels too real to deny. Now he has a choice to make: the friend he’s always wanted or the man who’s given him a whole new lease on life.

?Dark Fantasies For Abuse Survivors And A Ton Of Rainbows?

Hey babes,

So the boyfriend and I are on the road this weekend for out 8 year anniversary. I was super excited cuz it’s the first time in years I got to celebrate our anniversary while healthy. So, naturally, I sneezed the morning of our big trip while still in bed, and my back seized up. Motherfuck. XD But I don’t care. Life is short (much shorter than first anticipated) and I threw my little back support thing on and we went out despite the pain cuz I want to enjoy now.

We ended up checking out the Norman Rockwell museum cuz it was on the way and we both love art. I have to say, I’m particularly jealous of Rockwell’s studio. Having so much room in such a peaceful area to be able to create feels like a dream come true I’m never going to reach. We then drove to Burlington, Vermont to see the last night of the fabulously funny, Jen Kirkman. I love intelligent humor and she was this wonderful mix of quirky eccentric and damn brilliant.

The view was spectacular on the drive. Saw so many rainbows (seriously, double rainbow!) along with the beautiful leaves turning. And one disgusting, giant confederate flag that was a stark reminder even now, even how far we have come, hate is still breeding and festering in the most beautiful of locations.

How To Help The World…

I wrote a blog post this week as something constructive and positive after all the damn pain of the Kavanaugh bullshit. I hope you find the time to read it during the week. I go into things that I haven’t shared with most readers before, things I only recently learned about my past. But I knew for a very long time this was a truth for many families, in many different walks of life, and it’s been hiding beneath the surface tearing people apart.

It’s only been recently women have been allowed to talk about sex. It’s only been recently we’ve gained financial independence through bank accounts, credit cards, employment, birth control, equality laws, and voting. We don’t have to wear the ‘dress code’ of a dress for the female gender, but you’ll see, when a man wears this perceived dress code he faces humiliation because to be a woman is still to be lesser in the eyes of society. Women still don’t have equal pay, we don’t have equal representation, and we don’t have our voices taken seriously even now–and this is just in America. Reason is not what drives this world, but instead those little pockets of repression, hate, fear, and I want to help tear the darkness away and reveal our monsters for what they are. Human.

I think the world needs this. I know I needed it. Fear isn’t just the mind killer, it is the nonlife. When we reject our bodies and our sexuality, we reject our very lives. We have suffered too long like this, and now it the perfect time to change it and heal. I want to see #metoo mean more than just a battle cry of the traumatized, but an actual step in changing these common, hidden, and far too many times justified atrocities.

You can read about it here; Dark Fantasies For Abuse Survivors
 

This Week’s MM Goodies

$0.99 Dead In The Garden

Join bestselling author Dahlia Donovan on a cosy mystery adventure in Grasmere Cottage Mystery book one. With love, wit, and a murder to solve, life for Valor and Bishan is about to get bloomin’ complicated in this sweet gay romance.

Dead body in the garden? Check.

Mystery to solve? Check.

Police focused on the wrong person? Not good.

All grown up and graduated, Valor Tarquin Scott, son to Earl and Countess Scott, owns The Ginger’s Bread, a biscuit shop, in Grasmere in the Lake District. The love of his life, Bishan Tamboli, has turned his music studies into a successful career playing with the London Symphony Orchestra. It’s a perfect life with their cat, spending evenings watching Poirot on the television.

The nightmare begins with one dead former schoolmate, leading police to believe Bishan is responsible.

Valor struggles to solve the cryptic puzzles left behind in a race to prove Bishan’s innocence.

He can’t help wondering how far the body count will rise before they manage to stop the killer.

Buyer’s Remorse

Will love persevere when the truth comes out?

LEE
I changed my name, but I can’t change what I did. My brothers died, and I spent three years in witness protection. Returning to Fields, where I once hid out, feels right. Seeing Miguel again feels even better. But when a dead body interrupts my tour of a building for sale, my start isn’t as fresh as I’d like.

MIGUEL
I’ve been trying to curb my habit of leaping into bad relationships, but when Lee comes back to town, he’s hard to resist. Kids are dying, and life’s too short to shy away from a good thing. But will Lee’s mysterious past come back to bite me?

Between police questioning and trials of trust, it’s far from smooth sailing. If we don’t figure out who’s selling synthetic drugs and convince the police Lee is not their man, we may all have a severe case of buyer’s remorse.

The Heights

Twenty-one years ago, a four-year old child was kidnapped from his front yard. He was never found. Until now.

All Nat Walker wants is to make his late father’s dream of running a father/son woodworking shop come true. And he had the perfect building in mind—until the new guy in town came in and bought the place right out from under him. The fact that the new guy is adorable means nothing. For all Nat cares, he can take his new dance studio and waltz back to New York City.

Professional dancer Quinn Carroll couldn’t be happier that he made the move to the small town of Lakeshore, Oregon. Sure, it’s not New York, but now he’ll be living closer to his adoptive brother. And since his studio will be the only one in the area, he should get enough business to keep him busy. Besides, there’s something about this place that seems familiar…

He doesn’t expect to fall hard for the local, grumpy woodworker who won’t even smile at him.

Or find out that his entire life is a lie.

Last Chance To Snag Hellcat For $0.99!

?Are You Freaking Kidding Me, America??

Hey babes,

I am so fucking angry. Beyond. I am hurt, disgusted, pained—this Kavanaugh confirmation is a pain in my soul and psyche that has no fucking limit. I wasn’t even going to do a newsletter this week, I’m so upset by this all, but Wendy has her newest book out, and it’s fabulous, and fuck, let there be some damn good in the world right now when there is so much injustice.

The Imposter King

Their love made them close. Their secret kept them closer.

Dare and Prince Malory are happily married and in love, but the secret of Dare’s true identity as a mere servant threatens their romantic bliss.

Messages to the king of Brookfall go unanswered, and rumors of war unsettle both kingdoms. Until one day heralds arrive with bags of gold to ransom Dare and demand his return to Brookfall.

King Millard, Prince Malory’s father, orders Dare to make the journey to see his father. But Dare is not the true heir, and if they meet, the secret he and Mal have been guarding will be revealed. Also, impersonating a royal means a death penalty offense. Worse, it could mean all-out war between their countries.

Panic. Despair. Lovers torn asunder. Personal sacrifice. More dark secrets revealed. An ending that will leave you breathless.

They chose one privileged man over all the women of this country. They chose one man and said he ‘deserved’ the highest seat we have to offer while he sniveled, blatantly lied, cried like a bitch, bullied, dodged, and refused to be honest. They claimed he would ‘bridge the partisan gap’ when his hearing created one of the biggest fucking divides in this country. They gave him a gift, a gift they had no right to give after holding that seat hostage for over a year, while saying fuck you to abuse victims everywhere.

Fuck this country. Fuck this administration. Fuck what the Republican party has turned into. If there is a true conservative left of sound mind and free of insane, religious and hateful ideology in America, I don’t fucking see them. Many of them don’t even understand their entire party has been taken over by white nationalists, and they still vote like they’re talking about economics instead of the rights of women, of refugee children kept in cages, of minorities being shot at and jailed, of our entire country being cut off from the global economy and world with a wall of lies and fear and tribalism.

America is racist. It is a country built on the genocide of the Native Americans and the labor of the enslaved Africans (and so many more, it never fucking ended,) and long after a war to end all fucking wars, half this country still refuses to admit that racism was even a problem, never mind it’s STILL a problem. America is racist and yet it manages to be even worse in how sexist it is.

America hates women. We treat them like objects, like pretty pets who can’t think for themselves, like weak, pathetic victims who aren’t allowed to be empowered against their attackers but must wait for their adults—their husbands, their fathers, their grandfathers, their uncles and brothers and priests and statesmen—to speak up for them. And when the time comes and those men fail because they’ve gotten too content with raping their domesticated, trained women who aren’t allowed to decide what consent means because they’re ‘all mixed up,’ America shrugs because women don’t matter here. America blames a woman for daring to speak up. America attacks women for daring to believe a woman instead of an accused assailant. America wants their fucking sandwich made and tells those chicks to go drink wine to unwind from the stresses of being oppressed and never getting an equal fucking paycheck no matter how hard they work.

It’s time for America as we know it to destruct. Let it fucking burn. There is nothing left worth saving when we can have credible testimony of a crime, documented repeated lying over 100 times of the candidate under oath of matters not even pertaining to the accusation, and those in our government still just shrug and go ‘business as usual, give that man a job!’ This is not a democracy, and what it takes to build America back into one involves tearing this rotting corpse down. These senior citizens who lived when women weren’t even allowed to have fucking credit cards need to get the fuck out of office.

We could have learned but the impulse was too great to oppress those uppity women once again. Have your own babies. Try and birth a male when all women close their legs and say we’ll only birth girls. Fucking see what gender inequality looks like then.

Fuck this day and fuck this country. Vote blue November, and make sure it’s progressive because those established democrats are just as bought.

?Hacked, Patched, And Looking To Escape?

Hey babes,

Insane week. I’m not just talking about the Kavanaugh hearings—which, my fuck, I still don’t expect any sort of justice or vindication to come forth after the long history of rich, white male privilege. I want to have hope but common sense is wasted in this country when it comes to government and business. Common sense, basic logic, empathy, human emotions, scientific fact, any base level of decency; it’s all foreign to these people. But yeah, still I hope.

The guy is a blatant liar. Every word out of his mouth. That is the problem with credibility; I can’t believe him because he lies again and again. Once you surround yourself in lies, it’s impossible to pull yourself out. You’re not owed a seat on the Supreme Court, so stop lying like a dumb fuck and try to show some fucking empathy already.

Sorry, this shit has been upsetting. I didn’t realize that America would be facing one of the biggest ethical cases of the history of the damn country this week. It’s been intense, and I’m sure triggering for many. There was a reason all those women protested worldwide when Trump was elected. Some people thought it was because Hillary didn’t win, because of the blatant unfairness. The truth of the matter was a known repeated rapist and sexual assailant, (one known victim a minor,) was elected into the highest office of this country by the electoral college, and politicians once again said rape doesn’t matter. Women don’t matter. Power over a female’s body still belongs to rich, out of touch senior citizens running this country.

Women are fucking angry about it. We all should be.

Hacked

Anyways, something got into the website. It was caught immediately by my hosting company, and after a little work, it’s all cleaned up. To be clear, I don’t store any customer financial information on my website. I designed it that way from the very beginning cuz I didn’t want to worry about exactly this. What is stored are emails and whatever name you may have signed up with, so if you used a nickname/alias on the site and find it being used as a greeting in an email to phish your info, yeah, that could potentially be from my site. There isn’t actually any indication that information was taken, but I just want to be upfront about it all just in case.

I’ve increased security, found the exploit used to get into the site and updated/patched. Restored a later version of the database so apologies for the comments lost. I guess it was a known issue with the software so the company had a patch ready. Recoded most of the website just to ensure potentials would no longer be potential. Uh, oh, and I got rid of all the free members—all the free stuff is no longer behind a login. I just added a disclaimer, cuz really, there were too many 1 time logins and I guess people just weren’t bothering to find the email with the password they set. @_@ Make shit easy for everyone.

But, in cleaning up the member list, I might have accidentally deleted expired users who weren’t actually expired. The subscription software does this thing where it doesn’t update the expiration date if you let the membership expire and then pay later—it’s been an issue from the beginning and very frustrating to catch it happening. So if you’re a member and you can’t login, contact me immediately! That shit can be fixed in seconds. I just verify with Paypal and it’s done. Do not be quiet about this cuz the guilt will fucking kill me. (Don’t kill me. Don’t be that douche. Speak up! XD)

I need an escape

So I left the ER where I spent Saturday with an antibiotic for an infected tooth. I should have gotten the fucking thing pulled the first time around, but I was just enjoying life too much and cockily assuming it wouldn’t hit again. >_< I’ve learned. My fuck, the pain of the last few days. The mold has been killing me. The tooth inflames and screams in pain every time I breathe the wrong thing in. I’ve been living with ice in my mouth and pressed on my neck to keep the swelling down. What a mess. I finally got some sleep wrapped up in the car (got this amazing blanket that doesn’t set me off like the others ones do. What a relief.)

I think after this very stressful half of week of coding like a mofo, I’m going to find a good, sexy book to read for Sunday, and hopefully solve this pain thing. I’m grateful it hasn’t gotten as bad to have the multiple chemical sensitivity come back, but yeah, I’m scared that’s where it’s leading. =_= But hey, I finally slept during the night instead of day, so win?

With that in mind, a plethora of sexy books. I’m sure something on this list will help me hide for a day or two.

Of Princes False and True

A tennis match? Starting a war between the Duchy of Avann and the Kingdom of the Westlands?

Only in a fairy tale.

Nothing But Trouble

Adrian would be the first to admit that his life has been filled with trouble…

Honey From The Lion

​Soulmates across time. A love that was meant to be.

Remember Tomorrow

When artificial memories are everywhere, how can you tell what’s real?

Greyson Fox

Greyson Fox, the man, the myth, the legend. The highly sought after, self-proclaimed permanent bachelor. Or so the rumor mill goes…

No Way Out

It’s April of 1816 in Another England. And Jeremy—a whore from the Dock—is living in a guest bedroom in the London home of the (in)famous Iron Marquess, with over fifteen days missing from his life.

$0.99 Mated To The Demon Prince

Sean knows what those wicked, hellfire eyes want. Him, on his knees, taking every finger, tongue, tail, and tentacle.

⌛Musings of Mortality, Suffering, and Mercy⏳

Hey, babes

I find myself in mourning. Unexpectedly. The digital age has created this ability to connect with others from so far away. We can meet a person yet never meet them. Know a person and never share their day. Realize only a month after his 30th birthday, you’re never going to hear from him again.

I’m going to be talking about some heavy stuff today, and it’s totally up to you if you want to read it. Sorry I haven’t been posting free and cheap reads lately. The return of the mold has made simple shit feel difficult, and I’m trying to keep most of my focus on writing. I will get back into the swing of it all eventually, promise. I think the weather going cold again is helping. I’ve been updating The Paranormal Academy For Troubled Boys pretty consistently this month (outside of when the mold first jumped me,) and I’m happy it’s flowing so well.

So, yeah. No matter how heavy the stuff is below, it’s important to remember thoughts aren’t reality, and I am very happy living no matter the circumstances. I go into suffering, suicide, and transformation today. I find it to be cathartic at a time like this for me and want to share that, but it’s important to know others don’t find comfort but more pain when bringing up these subjects. I get it and it’s okay.

Mortality

There aren’t a lot of people who can hold a conversation with me. Even fewer who can look past my strong opinions, blunt nature, and very rough angles for long. Online, I talk about topics that offend most people, in a manner that also offends, and few dare to jump in to discuss. Wade Hartley was one of those rare gems who jumped in, and damn, how sad it is to lose him.

I think it was because of those touchy, combustible topics that I felt so close to him, because it required such raw honesty and a total lack of shields to get through. You can’t challenge the established disorder and have your sense of identity get in the way. It requires a stripping of all those trappings to really sink into a concept and try to suss it out. It’s easy to feel bruised in conversations like that, like you’re battling instead of exploring, being pushed down instead of someone just trying to understand a new concept. I don’t know if you realize it, but there are a lot of people arguing on the Internet while others assumed they were having conversations. Jumping into such a potentially volatile atmosphere while promising to not make it about the bruises you feel to your ego takes a bravery few have.

Most people passed us by with scornful anger and mumbles of rules and morality, terrified to even glance into that part of their mind. It required a fearlessness, as does facing death and shaking hands.

Talking with Wade was a freedom few people can offer, a lack of judgment and a way to learn to stop judging, stop expecting, and just accept. And that is the ultimate kindness Wade’s memory has given me. I can accept his choice even if I don’t agree with it, the same way we accepted each other’s strong opinions even though we didn’t always share them. I still battle what will be while he embraced it on his terms. And yes, even though I feel sorrow, I’m also joyful he found whatever level of acceptance he needed to release himself from the torture of existence.

We want life to be sacred, to mean something, to be valuable and counted even as it’s a mere blip in the eternal void of the universe. When we raise life up on some sacred altar, we lose sight of the actual living. Life is mundane, concrete, simple pleasures mixed with daily work and sometimes deep thoughts that feel bigger than reality. Our minds know no bounds even when our bodies find limitation after limitation. It takes a certain bravery to expand your mind so freely, to be giant inside a contained, fragile shell while the mere concept of mortality can push the strongest mind toward insanity. And in all minds there can be a depth of pain and suffering that feels limitless and without end.

While so many slipped away, unable to see the pain and agony of life as I experienced it battling mortality, PTSD, mold toxicity, and an existence where fairness is merely a concept, Wade didn’t look away. And that really should have been knowledge enough, because most shy from brutal reality while the ones who have suffered long enough see and accept and understand. They see the beautiful humanity within and reach, unafraid to fall into the darkness of despair. They have lived there too and offer comfort in companionship.

That is all we have for each other: each other. There are no answers, though always many questions. But when there is that darkness and despair, there is at least another—many others—out there who know, who feel, and somehow it is a little easier.

Mourning

As sentient, self aware beings who fear the inevitable end, we cling to the memory of how we perceive the people around us. This is the honoring we have for those brave souls we meet as we go forward another day. There is a hope to preserve that beautiful light snuffed out that makes us less alone in this arduous journey. We offer immortality of a person in our minds while our bodies continue to exist in this concrete world alone, aging, deteriorating, counting down to an end we must all face but few can dare to look at and see and embrace. We choose if we feel sorrow so deep to drown in, or love and compassion every time we touch upon the memory of a person. We choose to feel, to react, and be changed by those memories instead of still and unmoved by the intangible.

Many battle with reality, deny it because when you cannot change the concrete you feel empowered to at least deny what is. But there are the rare, the brave who will accept, and love with great gratitude what is, and release the suffering others cling to. When we can accept that suffering isn’t required to live, perhaps as a society we might learn to finally live without suffering instead of seeking to escape such pain at all costs. That is my hope for all and where my sorrow lies when I remember Wade.

I wish he could have lived without suffering, but at the same time, it was his suffering that allowed him to reach out and connect with others who were otherwise overlooked and discarded. I see those who suffer, and they desire to be seen, known, valued for who they are and not for the circumstances that distort them. Inside, we are all worthy, and what a cruelness of our insane minds to ever consider otherwise. Wade and I might have never recognized each other if not for a familiar pain, so even in suffering there is gratitude and acceptance and a little less loneliness.

We can choose to be unmoved or we can reach out and connect, seeking that lifespark and base understanding no matter how imperfect the playing field and events of life may be. We can have the bravery to be known and to find others who accept us even when some struggle to accept who they themselves are. It is a gift for the brave who endure the cruel, careless imperfections of life and dare to let their shields fall away anyways. We have learned nothing can ever hurt us more than how we hurt ourselves in our minds.

Suffering

There is a theme in my writing you may have noticed. Suffering leads to transformation. It is a belief I’ve held for a lifetime before I could even truly perceive or voice it.

I don’t talk about my past suffering much—you hear terms from me like mold toxicity or pain or disability or brain fog, but I don’t really call it suffering because on that level, it is not. Depression is such a meaningless word to me. As someone who had it for over 10 years straight, I never recognized depression on those television commercials selling antidepressants. Feeling ‘blue,’ or just tired, down, unsocial. I had depression during a time in my life when I didn’t even know the word depression, and it wasn’t blue; it was insanity. Agitated depression. Anxiety. PTSD. Symptoms confused for bipolar with ups and downs, but never really ups, just fresh energy and an amazing level of disassociation. Life was behind a veil, a veil that could never lift. A death shroud that colored everything, and although I could tell it was there, distorting life, no amount of fighting with it ever really set me free.

When I was living in my adoptive family’s house from the age of 13, to around the age of 26 when I finally left that place, I was in severe, debilitating mental anguish. It was something that grew worse and worse the more the years passed. It turned out to be sourced in the mold that had taken over the basement my bedroom was located in from water flooding in every season, and beneath that, untreated PTSD from a trauma that happened at the age of 3. How I knew reality wasn’t by mold or clinical terms, but by insanity, and despair, and a certainty that death surely would be a better way to exist than to continue as I was.

It was all I knew for years. No one could help me. My days were spent existing for others, watching the ones I loved the most dying while pretending I was human outside that house. During high school I cared for my mother, who eventually died of cancer soon after I graduated. Then there was college, which I left when my father got dementia and eventually died of kidney failure. After that I found the household I was in suddenly abusive, dangerous, filled with the trash of a hoarder and someone with a violent temper and I didn’t know how to escape. No one could understand what was happening in my head—I could barely express the torment, the decay of norms and joy and life I could only remember. I was too broken to help myself outside of coping every day by creating art and trying to bring some order to these very broken adults around me. It was my normal until some form of self preservation kicked in enough and I got the fuck out and started living life for myself.

When you hear about the last, what, seven? years of my life when I started writing in my previous apartment, where I was bed bound from the mold toxicity, not knowing the source, certain death was coming because of the inability to move, the Parkinson symptoms, the brain confusion and damage, the insomnia mixed with absolute exhaustion, those years were so different compared to my years suffering in my first house. The pain was less, the distress was less, the wish to die wasn’t there. It was like being a victim of torture only to find myself being slowly suffocated this time around. Even though it was a fresh hell, I was not alone. I understood the mental anguish, sank into the realization it wasn’t forever, and I was surrounded by loved ones who understood it too.

The main difference was, I wasn’t depressed. I don’t know if depression is ‘blue’ for other people. I don’t know if what I felt was unique. All I know is a doctor diagnosed what I was going through back then as chronic depression and agitated depression, and as I knew it to be, it was a festering torment on the mind that changed me into something less than until something even baser awoke in me to break me out.

I survived that first moldy house and the insanity it created in me that I perceived as real. I couldn’t discern being inflicted with a mental illness but that I was a mental illness and nothing more. I survived out of spite, out of instinct, out of a greater fear of death than of pain. I became a creature that had value in creating, and someone who sought value in others, in people and their intriguing psyches, and eventually, I became a human again when I saw that value in me. It was a transformation—one I never sought but had to experience—and it grew me into a being far more empowered and in love with the world and those around me than who I was when I started.

Now when I survive, it’s for that, for others, for understanding, for the belief that the futility of the inevitable should never stop this moment now from being the best it can be. And no, I hold no ill will, no anger, no disdain for anyone who decides to step forward on their own and plummet into the inevitable darkness of death. I understand it too well to ever condemn anyone for such a choice, even though I do feel sorrow to know the suffering they must feel to push them there. I want everyone to find the relief I eventually did find, all those glowing moments that made and continue to make my life worth hanging around for.

Mercy

Who are we to decide the form? I don’t know if there is a more beautiful concept than the ending of suffering: a mercy, a forgiveness, a release. But that mercy can’t happen without suffering to occur first. We cannot be saved without being lost. Sometimes the most wonderful kindnesses can only exist because of the worst of conflicts.

Ego death was my most recent mercy, and I truly believe I will never suffer the way I ever did in the past because of it. Even the extreme pain in my body and brain these last months fighting the sudden infestation of mold in the house we’re renting and living out of my car was not a suffering, but a clean pain of life without the emotional torment and torture and rot that can occur when I lose track of reality and get caged in my mind. The cage isn’t there anymore, just forgiveness and understanding, and a very bad habit of thought pattern to want that cage to hide in.

Learning to let go of suffering is the greatest gift you can give yourself. I don’t know if it’s something that can be taught, but fuck, I truly hope it is. In the end it’s a journey a person takes on their own, but guides are there to point the way. We remain. Not all of us, but we remain and are replaced because this is not unique. This is humanity the only way I have every known it to be. We suffer and transform and we live on the brink of inevitable.

It’s okay to be who you are, babes. It’s okay to hurt, and it’s okay to let the hurt go. It’s okay to not be alone anymore and to learn to love yourself. There is no wrong in how you choose to live, but there can be great rewards when you do seek to live your life in bravery and accept those bruises as they come. It’s worth it to meet someone new, or someone strangely familiar, to learn what can be learned, and find a little more truth inside.

It’s okay to despair and know you weren’t the first, and you won’t be the last, and nothing will ever be forever. The mortality of all living forms can be just as merciful as the eternity we can experience in our sweetest thoughts.

It’s okay to be okay. I promise. You still remain even when the suffering is gone.

You Ever Wonder How Books Make Money

Hey, Babes,

Hmm, so another different newsletter this week only cuz my brain is on fire… mostly metaphorically. I could spend my time talking about all the fucking injustice in my little slice of the world (mostly what I focus on when not writing but I know how oppressively unhappy politics can leave people.) Or I could talk about the mold that has taken over my neighborhood this week. Like, it’s a cloud of spores every time I drive near the house and the rest of the surrounding area isn’t much better. But that just depresses the fuck out of me because I have no idea if and when it will improve. My heart is set to hummingbird, blood pressure is in the pits, and everything hurts. I was in the house for a good couple of week, writing consistently, brain working gloriously, etc, but now it’s back to being in the car seeking little spots of relief.

But hey, I got a car and can find places that don’t kill me too much, and I just got to wait it out. The town where I used to work basically blew up from a giant gas disaster (40 houses on fire) so that was intense and there are a bunch of people without homes in eastern Massachusetts because of it. Mold doesn’t look so bad atm. So I’m talking business strategies today, cuz that’s where my brain is to avoid those other topics. (Ah, avoidance. Such bliss XD) Also, I like this kind of stuff: pattern recognition, problem solving, cause and effect, trial and error, etc. It’s cool beans.

Strategizing a new sales model—aka, a peek into my brain

I hopped onto my Book Report page for the first time in a while (I’ve been ignoring a lot of this shit so I can just focus on writing and getting healthy) and got some interesting numbers with my Amazon sales. For those who don’t know what Book Report is, it’s an app that allows you to view your Amazon book sales and page reads and break it down in a gazillion different ways to understand what is selling and what’s not.

So, the numbers were revealing. Out of 48 books, 6 of them were making over 77% of my Amazon income. Intense. That means I have 42 books just sitting there barely making money. What a waste.

So, a couple main thoughts this resulted in: what is similar about these 6 books, how do these 6 books brand me as an author, and how do I get those other 42 books to start making money? Here’s my breakdown.

1) What do these 6 books have in common?

To figure out why these books are a success, we need to look at a few different aspects of what makes them similar. These aspects aren’t what an outsider to selling books might automatically think. You might be asking questions like how good is the story, or the characters personality, or did each one totally have a quirky best friend; or you might want to know if it’s a horror MM verse a romantic MM. Unfortunately, it’s rarely so deep when it comes to writing. The genre plays a roll, but you need to take into account things like cover design, blurb writing, Amazon algorithms, length, etc. Some examples.

• 3 of these books were KU (kindle unlimited) reads. Hellcat, Demon Bonded #11, and Taken By Beasts. These are my only books enrolled in KU, and they’re already at the top of the income pile. Be it algorithms or just readers unwilling to throw down cash outside of KU when on Amazon, this program generates income.
• 4 of these books are either bundles or collections: Taken By Beasts, Demencious Saga, Apprentice Saga, and Bullying Teacher: the complete serial.
• 5 of these books are between 60,000-100,000 words
• All of them have newer covers verse my old, moldy style
• 4 have newer blurbs with an understanding of genre copy-writing
• 4 have been extensively edited, or written originally in my mold free style, aka, quality of writing is better
• 5 books are paranormal, with Bullying Teacher being the odd man contemporary title out
• All of these books are high heat
• Demencious Saga and Apprentice Saga are books previously to my most recently released Demon Bonded book #11. It’s known that books just released in KU get about a month of a ranking boost before a different set of algorithms kick in, meaning all 3 could be a fluke to watch for.

2) If I had a smaller catalog of books on Amazon, would it be easier for new readers to find these 6 books that are already drawing the most attention? What kind of ‘brand’ am I presenting right now, and would it be improved by only having these 6 books on Amazon instead?

This is a question I’ve been poking at for about 2 years when I realized just how much my brain had been impaired by the mold. And even if it hadn’t been an illness at the root, I think it’s a good question for any author to ask after a few years of self-publishing. What are you presenting to your audience, and is that message clear? When someone sees your name on a book, do they already know what that book is going to be about? Do your stories have a consistency of genre/trope, quality, subject matter, etc?

For the varied author, this might be a terrifying question. What, I’m supposed to only write one type of book? If you enjoy writing a variety of topics, no, but if you’re looking to create an income off your books, fuck yeah. Consistency is important. What do you think of when you hear names like Anne Rice, Stephen King, Nora Roberts, RR. Martin, J.K. Rowling, Diane Steele, James Patterson? If you’re familiar with these main stream authors, you immediately think of the ‘type’ of book they write. The genre, be it horror, romance, political intrigue, vampires to wizards to castles and assassins. If J.K. Rowling came out with a contemporary romance in the modern world, wouldn’t you be confused as fuck? If she did decide to write a book like that, it would be smarter to put that book under a completely different pen name so she wouldn’t water down her wizard brand. Otherwise, you might pick up that new book and wonder why there are so many wizards in the rest of her books.

So yeah, here I am looking at my catalog of books asking myself, what am I selling to people as an author, and is that message clear? Not only that, is what I’m selling what I want to be writing?

Books like Hellcat, The Paranormal Academy for Troubled Boys, and Demon Bonded are series I want to write. I wake up thinking about them, plotting them, wondering what those characters are going to do next. And the shorter fics that you find in Taken By Beasts? I enjoy making those even if I don’t usually write them in groups but once in a while between novels. As for Bullying Teacher, I love everything about that book from the high heat to dirty sex, but I don’t like contemporary fics the same way I do paranormal. I don’t like having to make everything feel ‘real’ which is why that book is still such an exaggeration (which probably makes it less believable, but fuck it, real life isn’t that interesting.) So yeah, I can at least say I 100% enjoy writing the books that are selling.

But the other question, is the message of what I write clear? That’s much harder to discern (aka, probably not clear at all.) The genre/trope of dubcon and paranormal are pretty strong themes but other things like consistency in quality and plot are not. Being sick did not allow me to really grow as a writer but just write to escape thoughts of being sick. What I thought was good enough back then isn’t remotely so now that I’m healthy. As a writer, do I want to be known as someone who has interesting ideas but doesn’t follow through, doesn’t push to make a complicated story that really satisfies? Do I want to be known as the author who can’t be assed to edit and ensure every sentence actually makes sense? I’ve tried to read some of my first published books, and my fuck, I don’t even understand what I was trying to say sometimes. (looking at you, Blackthorne @_@) It’s not pretty.

3) How do I get the other 42 books to make me money?

Now, if I was any other author, this would be a question of do I continue to sell the old books, remove them permanently, or edit them and then try to sell them? Do I seek out other platforms and go wide (put my books everywhere you can) and see if that draws in an audience of new readers? Which made me ask very bluntly: has going wide done anything positive for me?

No. I don’t know how to rank on other platforms outside of Amazon, and the platforms themselves have a poor algorithm and SEO set up. I don’t want to do the work to climb to the top of those platforms, especially when it’s much harder to even gain a foothold without those algorithm aspects. I think I made a little less than $100 a month on my books total on other platforms. These platforms can’t compete with Amazon—that fucking monopoly is taking over everyone, let’s not pretend, and KU is part of the problem. But fuck, I want to make money so I’m going to feed the beast for now.

But I have an option most authors don’t take, and that’s the subscription site. Something I realized I haven’t been putting center. The subscription site is how I can make those 42 books generate income while keeping them from watering down the quality of my brand, and stupid me, I was competing against that subscription site by putting those books on other platforms instead of making it so the only way to find them was on the site.

Which leads me to the key: Exclusivity

It goes against the grain as a writer, lol, but so do a lot of marketing strategies. For example, free books. Free books are the quickest way to get people on your mailing list and notice that you exist (at least before Instafreebie started making free so redundant people hoard those digital files and will never have enough time to read them all.) But there are so many authors terrified of giving their work away. They don’t see it as fishing for new readers, but just throwing their hard work away, and because of it, they don’t take the risk and they don’t get noticed.

In the same way, exclusivity on one site instead of spreading your books out everywhere to find as many eyes as possible seems risky, potentially suicidal. How will people find you? Well, through Amazon. Because that’s where most readers find you anyways because it is so fucking hard to compete against that corporate giant. The readers are already there, so that’s where you seek them out.

It helps that those in the KU program already understand the idea of a subscription service. Will they all think that my small number of books is worth the same cost as the thousands of books in KU? Probably not. But the ones who enjoy my type of writing, the genre, the tropes, will be interested enough to give it a month and see. And if they like the new stuff coming out, they may stay.

Crafting a new strategy

So, after I went through all those questions above, I came up with a new strategy I’m going to be focusing on for the next year. The two main goals of this strategy is to

1. create books that work for the KU program which will push views, ranking, and ideally sales
2. ensure the subscription site is utilizing all those books of exclusive content to the best of its ability
3. make sure I focus on branding for both sites

For part 1, it’s about taking those aspects that work in KU and focusing on them. This includes longer stories and bundles. So, if I wanted to have Heat in KU, I would make sure I bundled it with its sequel, Bite, maybe even Feral if I have it written by that time. This would allow for more pages to be read, pushing more income out of one sale instead of the hope the reader would seek out the sequels and read those too.

KU allows for a different strategy in this regard compared to selling book by book. When you’re selling pages, you want as many pages there to be read instead of leaving it up to the reader to seek out the rest of the pages in another book. Make things easy for your reader and give them everything up front. This would also mean rewriting and editing the fuck out of Heat and Bite to ensure my writing is cohesive and at a quality that could sit side by side on the shelf with a book like Hellcat, which is high heat, novel length, and has a cohesive plot that’s well edited.

For part 2, I want to go into creating an exclusive feel to the website and that content. I want to push that there are books to be read that you can’t get anywhere else, and while you’re waiting for me to finish a novel, you can read this too. I need to convey to readers the value of this content, a value that has just gone up if it can’t be found elsewhere. This also means working on my sales funnel and ensuring that my ads in the back of books are pulling people where they need to go.

Part 3, is two fold, and should be thought out on all the different levels. Branding might seem like one of those buzz words, but it matters big time. I want my main series to be my brand on Amazon. When someone picks up a Sadie Sins book there, I want them to think, oh, like Demon Arms, or Mated to the Demon Prince, or Demon Bonded. That’s my goal of a brand on Amazon, those 3 main series going forward. That means those series have to be front and center, be of the highest quality writing I have, covers and blurbs must be exemplary, and the books that are shown side by side with them need to have elements that reflect those series.

Branding for the website, though? Oh, we’re pushing the hardcore erotica and taboo nature of my books you can’t find elsewhere. Not only is it exclusive, but it’s super naughty, and way too hot for Amazon. It’s the idea that these books, if left out in the public, could somehow bring the world crumbling down (or so those shame based censors would have us all believe when it comes to erotica. XD) I want to use that not as a reason to hide my books, but as a reason for readers to come find my dangerous books. Selling sin, basically. <3

Sales Funnels

I mentioned this when it came to the website, and I want to expand because if you’re selling something on the Internet, you need to understand what a sales funnel is.

You ever see those totally transparent, kinda sleazy blog posts where someone is saying how much they love a product, it helped them after they had this terrible problem (let’s say it’s a weight loss product,) and hey, if you have trouble losing weight too, you should BUY NOW!!! In bright link letter and giant font? Yeah, that’s a sales funnel of the most obvious type. I’m not judging sales funnels (they’re a structure while it’s up to the user to decide if it’s used for good or evil,) I’m just giving you an example that I think we’ve all come across where it doesn’t feel like the end goal is to actually give the reader of that blog a solution to their problem, but just put some cash into the blogger’s pocket

Sale Funnels are all about conversion. Grabbing as many eyes as you can, pulling in the ones interested, and leading them to the end. Cuz I study other authors and marketing, I’ve watched as some authors push certain marketing books in other people’s newsletters with the intent to sell a how to market, or how to brand, or how to write—or breath through your fucking nose and hop on a leg—e course at the end of that sales funnel. I saw an annoyingly transparent sales funnel for one of those master classes (I get the ads on Facebook all the time cuz Facebook knows I’m a writer) where another author claimed to have taken the Master Class of the author in question, and how it was worth the time, etc. Sales funnels may come in different shapes and sizes, might stretch across different areas and employ many strategies, but the goal is still always the same, to get people to the end of the funnel.

So, for myself, when I’m putting books up on Amazon, my end goal is not to make a fuck ton of money there because I had a bestseller (don’t get me wrong, that would be fucking awesome XD) but more, my end goal is to put out work that a certain group of people will enjoy consistently enough to want to see what else I write and invest their free time, and their money, in reading what I write. Instead of directing them towards my back catalog of books on Amazon, I would instead be directing them to that back catalog on my website where they can also get my taboo fiction they never would have had an opportunity to find on Amazon. It’s important that I’m putting my best work forward in that regard with those Amazon books, and creating a brand that promises to continue that quality when you come back to the site.

So when I say authors don’t understand the value of a free book, that’s because they don’t understand a sales funnel. That free book is at the top of the funnel, drawing potential readers in to fall in love with your stories and invest in you as a writer. Instafreebie is great for that, as well as Goodreads giveaways. When you have a blurb at the back of your book telling people about books they haven’t read yet, that’s part of a sales funnel. When you get your book in other author’s newsletters, that’s part of the sales funnel. My newsletter is part of my sales funnel where I might not even be advertising my books, but you’re seeing how I write, and that might interest you enough to pick up one of my books. Every free book on my website is part of a sales funnel where my hope is the reader will invest and want to stay and grow with my books.

I guess I don’t think of my sales funnel as sleazy because I know that it involves me keeping a promise to readers and to myself. That’s not just of quality editing and stuff, but of being committed to what I do, to taking the time to make the story the best I can, and knowing I’m not going to grow bored and run off and never finish a story or some shit. If my end goal was to sell a book, that would be when it all ends. An exchange of cash for story, but by making the focus about building a readership that wants to grow with my stories, I’m promising those stories will be there to grow with. I wish I could have started off healthy, that I could have made that promise look far more stable in the beginning, you know? As a sales pitch, that would have kept people invested. But reality is not a sales pitch, and all we have is reality at the end of the day in all it’s imperfectionism.

Complicated or clear?

I love this kind of shit because of the intellectual challenge. Patterns, structures, and then all the trial and error as you find out what works and what doesn’t. Whether I’m actually good at it? Eh.

So I just removed those 42 (or nearly) books from Amazon and I’m already seeing the KU sales fill in the income those other books brought in, as well as exceed it. Will it hold once Demon Bonded #11 loses it’s algorithm push? No clue. I haven’t been doing any advertising or cross-promotion lately, just playing with Amazon atm. I’d say it was just because of the experiment, but really, I’m so lazy about this kind of shit. =_= I’m looking to create a system where once it’s set up, I don’t have to fuck around with it. I can just add new content, publish books, and the system perpetuates itself. It’s like building a house around my books in the hopes that I can keep the writing process and my income completely stable. But first I have to make a system that works, that sells, and you know, I should probably advertise. >_>

If Amazon tanks, or the KU program fucks up and refuses to count pages again, or maybe they change it all completely again, my system would have to change to adapt. If Amazon decides to censor all mm fiction or says my books cross their acceptable line, again, the system would need to change. It’s always good to reevaluate and question your strategy for this kind of thing anyways, cuz just because something is working doesn’t mean it can’t be better, too.

So, yeah, there’s an inside look at some of the things I do to sell books. I find it all really fascinating <3 (I’m a nerd, sorry. XD) But hey, if you’re interested in understanding how some things on the Internet make money, this might be interesting to you as well. Nothing wrong with making a living.

Hope everyone is safe during this crazy hurricane season. Peace, babes.