?A Demon Bonded Calendar??

Hey babes,

Hey, have you ordered your Demon Bonded Calendar yet? What, you didn’t know it existed?!??? No, you’re not out of the loop. I’m just the kind of asshole who decides in the middle of January to make a calendar. Sorry. =_= But if you want to snag one of these beauties, signed by me, you can.

If you’re one of my Patreon supporters, you can get the calendar discounted. Just include the coupon I sent out to your Patreon email accounts this week at checkout (as in, you have to add to cart, you can’t hit the paypal button cuz there is no place for the coupon by that point.)

I’m looking into starting some merchandise. Mostly limited edition things since I don’t have the funds to do giant orders or anything. I’m looking at t shirt designs next. *eyebrow waggle* Not sure if anyone will be interested in something like a Demon Arms t shirt…

Anywho

I want to give a shout out to Louise and her very first book, The Wild Ones! It’s MM with shifters, sorcery, and sexiness. If you pick up this brand new read, would you mind taking the time to review as well? Louise is totally new to all this. Reviews are so important, and she would really appreciate the help and feedback.

The Wild Ones

Louis Blackwood has been hiding his true nature all his life, lying to everyone and never daring to trust even those closest to him. When Louis is forced to use the powers he has always kept a secret to save his life, he’s led to prison without any chance of ever seeing daylight again. Until SINS shows up—the Supernatural Institute of National Security.

Lucas Lopes is the most popular professor at New York Supernatural University. Charismatic and honest, he’s renowned for his impressive control of his tiger form and impeccable good looks. Lucas is completely aware of the way he affects people with his charms and beauty, but it isn’t until Louis comes along that his smug arrogance grows to be a problem…

A New Year’s Revolution Announcement *cough* Of Sorts

In some ways nothing is changing, but in others, it’s going to be this huge freaking change. At the moment it’s only a goal, one that I am not rushing toward but instead staring at warily and planning how I’m going to reach it without ending up bruised, broken, and broke. XD But it’s a goal I want, big time. It’s one that aligns with who I’m becoming as a person as I heal and start seeing a future. This shit is going to happen, even if it’s not overnight.

So, what is it? I want to expand the website and hire content writers. It’ll still be my stories, but multiple ones written faster and updated consistently throughout the week. Basically, I want writing help to get my stories produced faster. Not for the end rush of publishing, but to reward readers immediately on the website. You know, like a business. @_@ One that sustains itself by telling sexy, entertaining MM stories to readers. Something that doesn’t have to fear the rampant censorship of the big platforms like Amazon and can have a safe place to exist and grow.

Yeah, huge, and yet the same

I was having a conversation with the love of my life a couple weeks back. He asked me since I was feeling better, when was I going to do something with my business idea for M/F erotica. And in that moment I realized, I’m not. I enjoyed coming up with the idea during a business course and it would certainly make money, but I’m just not passionate about it. And if I’m not passionate about something, I won’t see my way through all the damn work to get to the end. So his response was, naturally, why not do it with the Sadie Sins stuff, then? That’s something you’re passionate about.

Well… Why not?

There are actually a lot of reasons. >_> Let’s not pretend, here. But most of those reasons are insecure, dickish fears. I don’t have the money to hire people. I’m not an adult (right? I mean, when the fuck does that officially happen where you have your life together? Did anyone else get that adult certificate?) What if no one wants to read the results? Would I ever be able to find writers willing to write the weird shit I like? Can I even stop being a control freak long enough to let someone write my stories?

That last one is actually the kicker. It’s something that’s held me back from trying a lot of things because in the long run, it makes so much more work for me. It’s the battle against my own perfectionism. I can find blunt, ignore that bullshit answers to all those other obstacles, but me chilling the fuck out and accepting help? That’s the shit of fairy tales.

I want to live in a fairy tale! I’m tired of not doing the stuff I want because I keep holding myself back. I work so hard doing everything when I could be putting my efforts toward the right goal. What it really comes down to is…

Am I living the life I want, or the life I’m afraid to lose?

Perfectionism is a fear of letting go and fucking up. It’s a fear of not being ready to jump off the cliff or just open a new door. I can pretend all I like that it’s all about standards and quality, but under it all is this fear of moving forward and letting go.

The last time I talked to you guys, I went into the freaking journey this has been the last years while dealing with chronic illness. It seems insane that when I was at my weakest with no future ahead I chose to write an escape in these stories and tried to build an income off of it. But I wanted insanity. It was so much better than my reality at the time of having to accept that in my early 30s I was looking at the end of my life with no one able to explain why. Fuck that.

This last year after breaking free of PTSD and figuring out a lot of health answers, I kept finding myself wondering if I’m living now, or am I still trapped in old, negative habits that came with living with an illness for so long. It can become habit, those negative, bullshit lies we tell ourselves. It can be hard to change even when we’ve already changed.

For example, why did I really start writing? To escape death. Is that why I’m writing now? Of course not, so why should I be clinging to my writing the same way? Why did I start a subscription website? To escape poverty when Amazon KU failed. Should I really be doing the same exact thing when my motivations for the subscription site have completely changed? No.

I gotta get out of the habit of doing things for survival and start looking at how to live a life of thriving. What I really have to do is take ME out of the equation. That’s the problem when you do things for survival; you only see yourself and you only see the misery you’re running from. Well, I’m a fucking mess when I’m looking at me, but things are way clearer when I look in any other direction lately. XD There is nothing I’m running from anymore. What a beautiful view the world provides.

If I want a website that can flourish, I need to be looking at what readers want. Consistent, updated stories. Content that actually has a freaking ending. More new, sexy short stories to balance out all the long novels where the sexiness is spread thin. This is obvious stuff, but it’s a mountain of work when it’s all on my shoulders.

How do I get past perfectionism? With one giant question.

What if I’m holding my stories back?

I write every single day, but it was only recently I dared to ask myself this question. And what a huge, scary, dear fuck, could that be real kinda question. How revolutionary an idea. Am I holding my stories back? Me, the only one who can create them? Is that even possible? How can I hold back what wouldn’t exist without me?

Pretty freaking easily, apparently. I’m totally holding back my own stories. It’s not from some place of cruelty or anything, so much as, when I put all the work on me, I limit the ability for these stories to be created faster. And how commonsense that is. There’s only one of me, and I’m stretched too thin. Is my health consistently good? Nope. Can I write multiple stories at once at a quality I feel is acceptable at a speed where people can readily enjoy? Not even close. What happens when it’s time to do the final edit of Demon Arms and I spend hours upon hours listening to the computer read back the text aloud to make sure I didn’t miss any mistakes? Will the rest of Shiny Thief or Hellcat suddenly write itself and post on the website? Nope.

I thought I could time manage myself out of these problems. You know, do one thing one day, another thing another day. But there are too many things. It just brings me back to my nemesis, my habit of how I have survived for so very long through the most arduous of times. Me. I am my own worst enemy because I am the only one I feel safe depending on. No, I don’t let myself down, but I sure can’t do the things a group of people can do with ease. There’s only one of me. I need to change that.

So, how do I stop doing everything myself?

I’m not sure. For real, I have been this way for soooo fucking long.

It’s easy to justify it. Especially when you might be kinda good at something. And if you find with a little practice you can be good at lots of things? @_@ It’s misery. I can already write a song and sing it professionally, but I’m also the psycho who would take the time to learn how to record with materials I could afford, edit with the computer, and get that shit online to sell. I haven’t sang in years, but if I suddenly wanted that goal, fuck, I would do what it takes. I’m a jack of all trades, a problem solver. Everything is a problem to be solved, every moment a challenge worth exploring. That’s the way I see the world.

Unfortunately, that creative freedom isn’t always positive. Oh, it sounds it, especially when you’re working with little to nothing at startup for a project. Why pay for something when I can do it myself, usually at a quality others aren’t invested in reaching? I think quality is one of the most important aspects of creation. You don’t half ass something; you do it right and create something that can last. So, do I actually get a return for my quality obsession, aka perfectionism?

Eh.

It’s fucking horrible to say. It really is, (if my parents were alive they would freak to hear me admit this) but most people don’t give a fuck about quality. You know how many reviews I got bitching about certain stylizations of writing I did constantly when starting out? Like, most negative reviews, even the positive ones, had the caveat of the author uses boy or blond or brunette too much. Did they still buy and read the book and get to the end? The fact they reviewed suggests yes. My bank account totally confirmed a big yes there.

I had a lot of books done in a short amount of time back then. I didn’t care about presentation so much as just telling a story. And yeah, publishing quickly is how to win certain writing games, especially erotica. If you have 1-2 stories out every month of a quality where readers’ eyes don’t bleed, and your work is compelling, you can do well in erotica. I once wrote 5 10,000 word stories in a week while sick. It was a damn good week. Was the quality amazing? No, but people bought the books anyways. Their standards weren’t as lofty as mine.

It’s not like I’m dicking around with these rewrites, I want to be clear. I don’t think I’m wrong to want to create a better (the fucking best) version of these stories I can, but it is far more time consuming. Quality is a sacrifice of time. It could be considered a luxury when you have no money. Unless I have the cash and daring to seek out help, something is going to suffer. Right now, it’s me.

I’m looking at this looming prospect once Demon Arms is done and I need to do that final edit. It’s going to be so much longer to tackle, and once again the website will drag with no new content. What about when I want to make that interactive visual novel (a fucking prospect I again decided to do on my own because I’m insane.) What about website content then? I want a solution that doesn’t kill me by meaning I do more work. I want a solution that keeps readers happy and me sane.

Mostly. Kinda…. Fuck.

Okay, you just don’t understand how much of a control freak I am!

I don’t walk these rare, unique paths of life just because I enjoy being creative. No, I do it because it’s wonderfully empty of people trying to tell me what to do. I like to do things my way. I like to throw myself at a problem until I solve it, bloody bruises and a big smile, while other people just do their own thing and leave me to my insanity. Suddenly I want to ‘manage’ people? Converse and get them to follow my guidelines for writing?

I have no clue how to ask when it comes to things. I know how to tell, and I’m sure I sound like an asshole every time. I know what I want, then I go after it until I get it because that’s how I roll, and I don’t really care what people think about it. Excuses are another word for bullshit. I want what I want, and I want to achieve what I want, and it’s why I get shit done. I do the hard stuff and don’t accept bullshit, and if people get in the way, buh-bye.

So… I don’t imagine I work well with others. @_@ I will literally have to be a different person to get the results I want… or find a way around my own personality flaws. I’m willing to do that. I am always willing to change to live the life I want. It’s just difficult. I see these character traits as positive, until I’ve worked myself right into exhaustion, once again, without the results I want to show for it.

Right now, I’m thinking a way around my ‘issues’ is to create writing materials that can teach prospective writers how to tackle commercial writing. I mean, everything else is solved, you know? I can create a system of reference for characters, in depth outlines to follow, etc. I can solve that shit. But can I ensure a writer can follow along to my standards? I could give them info that took me years of experience to learn. Things like how to make an erotic scene sexy. How to draft write for speed and efficiency. How to self edit. How to craft different story formats to ensure tension is consistent no matter what you’re writing. How to write more engaging and immersive content.

Oh, yeah, and how to be a total control freak.

Every time I think of this shit, I don’t know if I’m offering guidance or trying to force someone to stay in my style of writing to prevent me from having a meltdown and rewriting everything. Not even joking. This is so difficult for me!

Someone save me from myself T_T

This is a battle I want to win. When I took that business course, this was my biggest weakness. My need to control everything on my own. The only way the website is going to be able to grow and be something more, is if I get the fuck out of the way and allow it to be. Seriously, what an epiphany to realize I am the only person in the way of getting my stories done faster, maybe even better.

I can figure this out. I have never shied away too long from the things that make me uncomfortable. I want to win this challenge. I want to make the website about consistent, sexy MM stories. A safe place where you can read taboo and not have to worry about it disappearing or being attacked by this ridiculous censorship movement happening on the Internet. I have so many ideas just waiting for my time. So I need to solve this problem of time and put my efforts where they’re best utilized.

I should probably be more worried about not having money to do this atm. That would be the logical thing. Weirdly enough, I assume I’m going to solve that problem much easier than the control freak stuff. I can stagger hiring writing based on funds verses, like, hiring an employee. There’s a lot more leeway. I truly believe I can solve a lack of funds faster than I can solve not obsessing like a psycho over full creative control. @_@ I don’t know if that makes me cocky or delusional, but I’m going with it. XD

So, yeah. A goal for 2019. One that will take the pace required to prevent me from having a nervous breakdown at the prospect of relinquishing control and coming up with the money to hire help. There is so much to learn and do. Like, this week alone, I’m looking at a new subscription software for the website to finally deal with all those annoying date issues, figuring out shipping costs and taxes—actually looking at Fulfillment By Amazon where I could offer free Prime shipping for physical goods. I don’t think it’s time effective considering the calendar is already late, but on stuff in the future, it might be a win. Oh, learning Google Adwords and Woocommerce. Made a gorgeous visual of where I am writing wise for the 4 main WIPs on the website (and then did all this other work instead of writing. @_@ Cuz time management is a fail when there is too much to do.)

Yeah, it’s time to learn how to get help for some of this stuff. I want to see this website be something more than just me. Eventually, I will reach that goal. It won’t be overnight. It won’t look the same as I’m envisioning it now. Still, it will be fucking awesome.

Oh, I’m feeling better! Lol, not sure if you can tell. XD

✨?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

?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.

Sneak Peak At Theodore From Demon Arms

Hey, peeps ^^

So I caught a cold this weekend. It’s dragging at me but so far I’m doing alright. Found myself at a party Saturday discussing Internet economics to politics to PTSD (because no, I don’t give a fuck about your kids) and somehow it’s Sunday night—Monday morning—and I’ve just slept the weekend away. So, for this week’s newsletter, I’m doing something random. I’m sharing my stuffed mushroom recipe that I just made cuz I wanted some decadent stuffed mushrooms (but are gluten, egg, and mold free unlike the ones at that party,) and I’m going to give you a sneak peek into the Demon Arms rewrite.

Now that my brain is, you know, ‘functioning’ XD I wanted to rewrite Demon Arms to ensure it matches the many novels that are to follow. The other novels do a lot of character changes as we go along. We see different aspects through different characters because these peeps are hanging around long term and even if their love story isn’t in the particular novel of the moment, they will be later. I wanted a kind of soap opera/community feel with the Academy guys. Which means, the dual perspective in Demon Arms needed some expanding. Which means, we need some grumpy as fuck Theo!

Wylie is never really going to know the shit Theodore goes through to ensure he isn’t picked off by sorcerers the moment he ends up in jail, but the readers are now going to get a clue. I love Theo, and I think he’s the perfect Academy caretaker to really feature for Demon Arms, cuz hey, dragon buddies. <3

But first, a recipe of delicious decadence

It’s one of my favs; Paleo, no carb, high fat, and perfect now that the weather is getting cold where I am—aka 3 days ago it was a heat wave and too hot to turn the oven on and now it’s cold and autumn. @_@ And just so we’re clear, I’m not someone who really ‘sticks’ to recipes. I change shit up when I have different stuff on hand, so this is all adjustable. I like diced kalamata olives instead of the crab, feta instead of goat cheese, scallions, almond meal for a little crunch, that sort of thing. It’s all good. Oh, and the love of my life can’t stand the texture of mushrooms, so this stuff does make a great dip too. I’ve made different versions all at the same time just to switch things up too. Stuffed mushrooms can be time consuming, so it’s nice to play when you do take the time.

• 1 Vidalia onion, chopped finely
• 6 cloves of garlic, minced
• 1 pound of bacon, crumbled
• 8 ounces of goat cheese, crumbled
• 1 can of crab meat
• 1/2 stick of butter
• 2-4 packages of baby bello mushrooms, washed with stems removed (I use the baby bellos cuz I like the mushroom/stuffing ratio better this way, and they’re damn filling, but your choice.)
• Salt, pepper, whatever seasoning you prefer. (I usually just salt stuff cuz of my mold allergy, but I’m sure there are a million ways to add some extra zing.)

Directions:

Cook and crumble bacon once cool (I cut it for ease.) Melt butter in a pan and saute onions and garlic together. While that’s cooking, mix the goat cheese with the crab meat and bacon in a large bowl. Then slowly mix in the onion and garlic that’s still hot/warm from the stove so the cheese melts down. Prep mushrooms, and preheat the oven to 350 F. Stuff the mushrooms with a small spoon (I pile it on high) and place on a buttered pan or oven safe casserole dish. Once the oven is preheated, pop the mushrooms in, and if you have an oven safe bowl, put any leftover stuffing in there to make a nice dip. Cook for @25-30 minutes until the tops are browned, and voila! Deliciousness! <3

An unedited sneak peak into the Demon Arms rewrite, aka, a peek at Theo being, er, homicidally emotional…

The October morning was just gaining heat when Theodore stalked out of the police station. The sidewalk was empty of everything but slowly dispersing mist, and the side street the station was located on was free of any Thursday morning commuters.

Redham was the suburb over from the sparsely populated town Collin had chosen to build his house. The police district covered the entire area, but were more used to dealing with traffic accidents and personal property damage than anything paranormal. The peaceful streets and friendly faces of the town had the opposite of a calming effect on Theodore as he sought a place free of interruption. Everywhere he looked, he saw only potential victims and gaps in security so wide, there would be no way to effectively fill them.

Theodore had arrived the moment the station allowed visitors in, but not before a sleepless eight hours as he and his colleagues worked to keep Collin McPherson alive. He was tired, cranky, and more than aware his magic was not responding as it should. The young man who was following doggedly after him was proof of that.

Theodore eyed the police intern as he paused by a decorative, black metal gate and patted down the pockets of his long coat. The intern stopped short when Theodore did and held out a plastic wrapped sandwich in offering. He couldn’t have been older than twenty and had a hopeful shine in his eyes that refused to fade no matter how much Theodore scowled.

“Get lost,” Theodore ordered.

The intern whimpered and knelt down on the concrete sidewalk. Theodore rolled his eyes when the man lifted the sandwich above his head and held it out like a ritual sacrifice.

“Damn it.” Theodore sighed heavily and did his best not to make eye contact. Short of spelling the guy to fuck off, there wasn’t much he could do. Hexing a human in broad daylight right outside a police station probably wasn’t the smartest of moves, even if he was seriously contemplating it. His power was fluctuating from all the stress of this insane situation. Although he’d only been there less than an hour, Theodore was already fed up with having to socialize with so many people. He hated people.

Theodore dug through his coat pockets while muttering under his breath each time he failed to find his goal. He only wore the long, black despoiler jacket when he was in the mood for battle, and the many hidden openings within the layers of fabric had saved his life more than he could count. In his current mindset and with only the basic of tasks required, Theodore discovered having so many pockets to be annoying as fuck.

He patted through a multitude of daggers, razors, wands, and a small sword made of diamond the metal detectors always failed to notice; vials of poisons, sedatives, excitatives, hallucinogenics, paralyzers, purifiers, and anesthetics all in uniquely shaped bottles just in case his sight was impaired; wards for all occasions, mostly for the killing and shielding kind; and deadly, impossibly strong wires and nets, some so thin they were nearly invisible to the human eye. His fingers caressed a particularly painful but nonlethal weapon the same moment he looked at the intern still kneeling like a fool. Theodore resisted the urge to see what a swarm of metal chiggers—spelled to burrow into the thickest of pelts and cause excruciating pain short term, and insanity long term—might do to human skin.

“Found you.” Theodore smiled grimly as he slipped his fingers free from his breast pocket and withdrew a slim, gold compact that fit into his palm. He clicked it open with his thumb and revealed an ordinary, circular mirror within. “Show me Michael Whiteheart.”

In seconds, his reflection faded and the mirrored glass grew misty. Theodore tapped his foot impatiently as the seconds ticked by. He glared down at his handmade, goatskin shoes dyed the color of blood with a shine so bright he could see his own reflection. They went with the suit, a bespoke number he had tailored to ensure he could move naturally—and more importantly, unnaturally—without destroying his clothes while also remaining professional in appearance. He’d once taken out an assassin and only had a wrinkle in the left pant leg to show for it, even with all the blood.

There was a soft whimper and Theodore glared sideways. The intern was still trying to entice him with the disgusting, premade sandwich riddled with carbs. He might have missed breakfast, but he was hardly desperate.

Theodore fixed his attention back to the mirror when a man’s face began to appear. He had a square jaw, strong, Roman nose, and piercing blue eyes that were currently sharp with agitation. “Michael,” Theodore greeted simply.

“Sorry for the delay. The guys are off the walls this morning. They know something is up but haven’t gotten wind of the details yet.” Michael’s eyes darted up, and by his exasperated expression and the sound of something crashing in the distance, he was still at the Academy. “Did you find our shifter punk?”

Theodore nodded and looked around to make sure he wasn’t being overheard. He scowled at the intern and turned fully. With a few quick words, he spelled up a cone of magic around him to absorb any vibration of the air and prevent sound from escaping. “Collin was right. The kid’s a dragon.”

“Fuck,” Michael growled. The mirror immediately emptied of his face, and Theodore was left to stare at a curtained window dripping in green and purple ivy while he listened to Michael rummage through his office for something.

“I got a call back from Doe’s detention house in West Bristol,” Michael explained. “He’s flagged. They’re going to have him on a bus to Daiker by this evening. I think my questions must have tipped someone off, because when I last checked, the Redhem cops hadn’t even classified him.”

Theodore pursed his lips and ignored the growing urge to walk the perimeter of the station and ensure it was free of danger. “It was only a matter of time,” he reminded gruffly. “Once the Lifecare paramedics identified the mark, we both knew it would be less than 24 hours before someone came around looking for dragon blood. Right now, Doe is in the safest cell this backwater precinct has until I can get him out of this death trap.” Theodore glanced over his shoulder at the intern and shook his head in disgust. “This place is a joke. They have no defenses in place that can impeded a sorcerer of our caliber.”

Michael reappeared in the mirror with his golden curls of hair askew. He squinted at something behind Theodore. “Who’s your friend?”

Theodore grimaced and moved the compact so Michael had a clear view of the kneeling intern. “They really need to work on their hiring process. He has no magical shielding, and I can’t shake him.”

Michael raised an eyebrow and focused on Theodore’s defensive expression. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Theodore muttered. Michael’s eyes bored into him and Theodore avoided his gaze.

“Here, pass me over,” Michael said abruptly. “I’ll take care of him.”

Theodore scowled at the idea of having to get that close to the intern. “Fine,” he huffed. He took down the sound dampening spell with a wave of his hand, and turned on his heel. The intern had his head down, and his arms were shaking from the strain of holding his hands above his head for so long. Theodore shook his head at the stupidity of it all and pointed to the spot right in front of his shoes.

“You. Come here. No, put down the disgusting sandwich.” Theodore held his hand up warningly when the intern jumped up and rushed toward him. “Small steps. Touch me and I’ll decapitate you.”

It was clearly a strain for the young man, and Theodore watched his every movement warily. The last time he lost control of his allure like this, he ended up with three very rude sets of hands trying to tear his clothes off.

“No, don’t kneel,” Michael said quickly when the intern stopped in front of Theodore. “Come on, Theo. Hand me over, then walk away. You know how your power gets.”

Theodore rolled his eyes but did as Michael asked. He placed the compact into the intern’s hands, who immediately held it close to his heart like it was a precious gift. Theodore took two steps back, and held his finger up when the intern went to follow. “No. Stay. Listen to him, That’s an order.”

Theodore stepped swiftly down the sidewalk, his ears straining to hear what Michael was saying. Michael, as usual, was unbearably calm and compassionate when it came to the magically enthralled.

“Greg, was it? I don’t think you can tell what you’re doing right now, so I thought I’d help you understand the situation you’re in. You see, you’re stalking my associate.”

“Wait, what? He loves me. I mean, well… What?”

“Yeah, I get that you believe that, but you don’t even know his name, right? He definitely doesn’t know yours. Can you remember when you first met him?”

“Uh… I saw him. He was walking down a hall and… and he left. I didn’t want him to leave.”

“Idiot,” Theodore muttered down at the leaves scattered on the pavement. “Stupid, punk idiot.”

“Yeah, not really something to build a relationship off of,” Michael said cheerfully. “The thing is, Greg, you’re coming on really strong, and my associate is starting to feel uncomfortable. You don’t want him to feel uncomfortable, right?”

“No, I… what? Who are you?”

“Let’s go for a walk, Greg. Turn, and start walking. In a few blocks, you’re going to start seeing things more clearly.”

“But… but he’s…”

“He told you to do as I say. You’re not going to ignore the magic man in the mirror, right, Greg? Come on, let’s go find some coffee.”

“For fuck sake,” Theodore growled when Greg started walking back toward the police station with Michael clutched in his grasp. With a flick of his finger, the compact sailed out of Greg’s hands and landed in Theodore’s palm. “Go!” He pointed down the street. “Get me a coffee from a shop more than four blocks away, then sit there. Do not return to work today.”

The intern blinked owlishly. “What kind…?”

“Black, no sugar. Now!” Theodore barked.

Greg was torn between his unnatural wish to stay in Theodore’s presence and the compulsion to do as he was told. Theodore’s glare won him over, and with a beaming smile, Greg turned and quickly jogged down the street to comply as readily as possible.

Theodore watched him go while wondering what fifty magically enhanced metal burrs would do to human flesh. It was probably irresponsible to not test them out on a human, really…

“Theo, you’re growling,” Michael spoke up from the compact. He draped a tie around his neck and efficiently twisted the knot in place.

Theodore only growled louder, then sighed abruptly. “He’s an idiot.”

“Who, Greg?” Michael shot him a sardonic grin. “You know what your allure does to humans. Hell, you can seriously mess up anyone when you actually try.”

“No, the kid.” Theodore combed fingers through his hair roughly. His scarlet locks fanned out and fell perfectly around his shoulders. “Fuck, he is such a stupid kid. He was joining a gang!”

“Theo, volume.”

Theodore spelled up another sound absorber and didn’t miss a beat. “Do you know how quickly Doe would have been hunted down if anyone in the underworld got wind about the ‘new kid’ who could tear through metal with his bare hands? I saw Collin’s door. Anyone with a fucking brain would know a dragon came through that mess.” Theodore cut his hand through the air in frustration. “If he was spotted even once pulling some kind of shit like that, it would be all over. Dead, he’d be dead! He’s not even an adult, and he’d be fucking dead.”

The compact sparked in his hand. Theodore snarled and glared at Michael, who peered back pointedly.

“Calm down. Your power is growing erratic.” Michael looked around the limited view his vantage gave him. “There are no wards where you are. Don’t make yourself a target by freaking out at the kid being an easy target.”

Theodore opened his mouth to tell Michael off, and his eyes burned with power. “Shit.” He raised his arm to block his gaze from Michael’s view. He took a deliberate, slow breath.

Michael pursed his lips. “You alright?”

“Fine. Pissed off,” Theodore added sharply. He bared his teeth and after a quick look around, stalked over to a maple tree surrounded by a metal grate. He ducked behind it where the bright red and orange leaves hid him from above. “Michael, if Collin hadn’t told us, that kid would already be…”

“But Collin did tell us,” Michael interrupted smoothly. “Even if he hadn’t, either you or I would have seen the healer mark and the door and put it together in moments.”

Theodore huffed up at the leaves above. “Only because you’re listed as Collin’s emergency contact. In one night we nearly lost two. My fuck, I can’t get over that. It was a 911 call, for fuck sake!”

Michael nodded calmly and shrugged into a suit jacket. “Yes, and now they’re allowed to deny service to paranormals. We knew this was coming.”

Theodore gritted his teeth and growled up at the sky. “It’s starting so quickly.”

“I’m surprised it wasn’t sooner,” Michael said flatly. “The precedent was set in that court case over a month ago, yet we’re only just seeing the first of private companies ignoring basic human rights for paranormals.”

“Because we’re not human, remember?” Theodore spat bitterly.

“Don’t repeat that disgusting drivel. Paranormals are absolutely human. Everyone should be treated with a basic level of dignity and respect no matter their appearance or abilities.”

“Yeah, good luck convincing the human race who still commits genocide on each other.” Theodore’s eyes sparked with rage. “Same but different might as well be asking to be murdered by these trigger happy, heartless fucks.”

Michael sighed. “Theo, I can’t believe I’m the one saying this to you, of all people, but you need to get your emotions under control. I don’t think I’ve seen you this shook up since, well, since Alex passed away.”

Theodore winced at the mention of his brother. “Don’t.”

Michael frowned sympathetically but didn’t push the subject. “We’re on top of this. Bear is here and he’s promised to stay the night if needed. I’m minutes from meeting with the governor to get Doe transfered. Everything is under control. You just need to keep your cool and remember why you’re there.”

Theodore closed his eyes and took another slow breath. This one seemed to take, and he followed it with a second and a third.

He didn’t want to think of Alexander, or how Wylie Doe was just a little too similar with his foul mouth and stupidly big heart. It wouldn’t matter who Doe was if he ended up dead. He wasn’t even nineteen, and Doe was going to have every homicidal sorcerer in the area looking to murder him before the day was out.

The gruesome reality was what Theodore needed after his difficult interview with Wylie. He had a job to do. He was going to do what the police couldn’t and keep Wylie Doe alive at all costs.

Theodore opened his eyes and fixed on Michael’s patient expression. “Any news on Collin?”

“Rob says he’s going to be fine. He had to put him in a magically induced coma for the energy transfer.”

Theodore raised an eyebrow. “He agreed to that? Seriously?”

“Of course not,” Michael said with a smirk. “Collin wouldn’t agree to anything until he called the governor personally and demanded Doe be released. Then he made me promise to make it happen.” Michael’s eyes grew stern with the responsibility he was carrying. “Listen, I don’t think the kid understands his healing comes with an energy drain. You might want to explain that to him. Collin said he’s new to healing in general.”

Theodore shook his head as he was hit with a fresh wave of frustration at the thought of Wylie. “He has no clue. I’m serious, Michael. He has no idea what he is and even less of a clue of what’s coming for him. The kid is ignorant as fuck. He’s lucky he’s alive because I have no idea how he made it under the radar this long.”

Michael was silent for a long moment. His voice was solemn once he spoke. “Good. That means he hasn’t lived his life in fear.”

Theodore sneered, his fangs sharp. “Don’t use that optimistic, silver lining bullshit on me, Whiteheart. The kid doesn’t know how to defend himself. Every asshole with a wand will be looking to bleed him dead and he doesn’t know fuck shit about anything.”

Michael fought a chuckle. “Sorry, forgot who I was talking to for a moment.” The mirror shifted as he grabbed a briefcase. “Have you gotten any sleep at all? You’re more bitchy than normal.”

“I’m awake enough to hex your ass through this portal,” Theodore warned. He pushed himself off the trunk of the tree, relieved to feel more like himself. “Get on that asshole governor and remind him how paranormals are actually human.”

Michael snorted. “You mean spell him stupid. Trust me, if I didn’t know that place was locked down with magical detectors, I’d use everything I have. The guy is bigoted as fuck.” Theodore’s frown turned grim at the reminder, and Michael caught the change. “We’re going to save this kid, Theo. We both know the odds if Doe ends up in Daiker.”

“He’ll be killed and dissected before he even gets there,” Theodore said tersely. He squared his shoulders and his eyes darted to the police station he needed to defend. “This is the only warning you get, Michael. If you can’t fix this through the proper channels, I’ll deal with it my way.”

Michael’s eyebrows drew down sharply. “Do no start killing…”

“I need to make a phone call.” Theodore clicked the compact shut without a goodbye and stuffed it in his breast pocket. He patted down his jacket and fished out a cell phone, saw it was Diego’s, and stuffed it back into the pocket.

“Fuck this day,” he muttered under his breath as he searched through his array of hiding places. “Winchester… Diane Winchester of Social Services… Ah ha!” Theodore held the phone up, only to frown when it refused to turn on. “Fucking magic!”

Theodore rummaged through his pockets again and pulled out a stack of small, heptagon wards. He sifted through and flipped each one over to discern which spell was which. “Stupid Michael. I’ll kill whoever I want to kill, Mr. nosy, overly ethical, bleeding Whiteheart who thinks he’s everyone’s knight in squeaky clean armor…” Theodore suddenly grinned, his teeth sharp, and slapped a buffer onto the back of his phone. The machine immediately chirped to life and the signal connected.

Theodore paused as he glared at the phone and exhaled heavily through his nose. He just needed to make it through the next hours and hope no one showed up to capture and kill his eighteen year old, ignorant as fuck, smartass dragon shifter. One day. After that, everything would be golden.

Demon Bonded Game And A Somewhat Polite Rant

I’ve got great news, babes!

So the big lab test I took came back and it looks like I have bad case of gut dysbiosis. Candida overgrowth, and has likely spread to my ear and jaw. I’ve already seen an alleviation to some of the multiple chemical sensitivity symptoms from a new diet starving the candida, and one I start killing it—going slow cuz the die off can be really damaging to the body and make the MCS so much worse—I will eventually be myself again.

I’m seeing this as the end. This whole thing started with Lyme disease, oh, six years ago now? Found out I was living in mold and that it had caused damage to my body that needed to be repaired, plus the allergies. I’m apparently still living in mold and it has gotten worse with the heavy rain fall this month. Exhaustion, fatigue, confusion, unable to lift my arms and head—all this is finally coming to an end and I can be a person again. These last months will be the hardest because of the neurotoxins that dying candida release and the recovery needed after, but I’m looking at it like the last mile in a marathon. You have to get through the pain to win.

Oh, this test also measured my dopamine levels and I got conclusive numbers that, yeah, my dopamine levels are low. Serotonin too. I knew but there is always this level of self doubt when experimenting on yourself—at least for me. It’s never something to go into all cocky. When everything is filtered through your own brain, it can be very easy to lose perspective. These numbers prove the dopamine link, and it’s a relief.

Writing and Art update

The last two weeks I’ve been cleaning up Shiny Thief (I seriously need to update the damn website. @_@ I have new stuff,) and playing around with a software for making visual novels and interactive novels. Oh, and I’m going to try and remember to get the latest Demon Bonded up on KU this week—totally blanked.

Anyways, I was hemming and hawing on which story I wanted to try for my first test run of a visual novel. Thought I’d start with something new, but it didn’t seem time effective. Then thought I’d jump right into The Demon Virus interactive novel idea, but I thought it might take too much of my attention from Shiny Thief. Then I thought I’d do Taken by Beasts cuz I could do short story by short story—I have a lot of outlines made XD—and then I looked at Demon Bonded, really looked at it, and that’s where I stayed.

It’s already written. When I go to make character and background art, I can reuse that art repeatedly instead of needing to make new stuff like I’d have to do with the 5 short stories in Taken by Beasts, so it’s time effective. And it would allow me to experiment with certain interactive gaming aspects I want to be able to understand in the future, such as creating clickable maps, having affection meters, exploring areas, and getting key items. It also has a following, so I figured there would be more people interested in seeing the story come to life.

So, yeah, that’s where I landed. A Demon Bonded interactive novel. Not the game I have plotted out for the future that has nothing to do with Ky, but for now I’m taking the actual Demon Bonded story and turning it into an interactive experience as a test run. Hopefully people will love it. <3

I’m doing the story boarding first, trying to conceive what I’m really going to need and how to turn each scene into something interactive. My focus is finding ways to have the reader/player have to get tasks done to proceed in the story, such as win the trust of Lovely before he’ll show himself from under the bed. Maybe getting Feral to shred enough clothes before Ky confronts him. Oh, and have things where you have to explore to find hidden art and character cards to collect. I like the idea of puzzles, but nothing too crazy complex… Oh, and I was thinking of a memory game for that part where Ky is trying to write his first circle to keep Demencious from killing them all. I’d like to find a way to figure out character costumes—I mean, I have found a way where I could have other costumes for the demons, even Ky, you can customize, but the coding also limits other aspects, so I’m not 100% certain I want to go that route… But I love the idea of being able to play dress up with them…

It’s a lot of ideas right now, which I love—I love the creative process. It’s so fun. And making the thing is actually really simple, probably because of what I learned just fighting to code a website or making mobis from scratch. If I had known how simple it was to make an interactive novel, I would have attacked it sooner. But this is probably a good time to learn, really. I’m still sick, I’m going to continue to be sick until I can get this candida at manageable levels, and it would be nice to have a constant place to sleep, be able to breathe, etc, before I go too crazy into the final edit of Shiny Thief.

I’m working on the final draft before the betas get it, and I can see how my current lifestyle with the multiple chemical sensitivity keeps my focus from being as good as I’d like. I’m scattered. It’s amazing I get bills paid (everything is late) because I have no consistent point of reference as I run from chemicals and scents at a moment’s notice. I’m a leaf in the wind and it’s difficult to be consistent and remember basic stuff.

Oh, also once I get the first actual working version of the Demon Bonded interactive novel working (where the art is done instead of placeholders) I though that would be a fun giveaway for anyone contributing to my Patreon. I could update the game each time until it’s finally done, and those who have a copy could actually save, even see how shit is made by the builds. I’ve decided on a cell-shaded type of art because of the amount of time that goes into realism, and I suspect once the heat doesn’t suck so much that I can return to my bedless bedroom and use the PC to make art, it won’t be too unbearably hot to make graphics.

White Nationalists are Fucking Cowards

A slightly polite rant about this coming Sunday because maybe I say ‘fuck’ just a little too much. I don’t want people to miss the forest for the trees here, so I’m keeping the language as tame as I feel comfortable.

It you’re in America, brace yourself, babes.

Sunday is the anniversary of the white nationalists taking to the streets with torches in Charlotteville. They’re planning a demonstration in Washington DC, and the counter protesters are already booked. I’m not a fortune teller, but this is the kind of event where you watch a county bleed from the inside and wonder if it will be able to heal after. A lot of Nazi wannabees were doxed last year, and I’m hoping that fear of being exposed and losing their jobs will be enough to keep these messed up individuals from taking to the streets again, but I’m not holding my breath.

This white nationalist, Alt-Right movement is dangerous because the leaders know exactly what they’re doing. They’re hiding hate in modern clothes and slick rhetoric. They ask for their ‘right’ to be allowed to be white people (as if someone was fighting them on it,) for the ‘freedom’ to speak their pride of their skin color while ignoring that their movement can’t just have pride but pushes down and creates an atmosphere of fear and imminent danger for anyone not ‘white.’ (White is a concept, as is all race. It’s not real. We are all fully evolved, flawed humans no matter the language, the heritage, the facial and bone structure, and the history and culture. This is not to ignore what certain races have gone through, and are going through, based off of these constructs in America, but to point out the irrationality behind taking a set of random visual attributes and dividing humanity by it.)

And let’s be clear, white people are not in danger. There is no fear of the white skinned person becoming extinct. All you have to do is walk out in the sun and tan, and guess what, there are no ‘white’ people anymore. This movement is born from a group of people who have never faced the reality that they’re sharing a globe, and they have something wrong in their heads where they believe the color of skin or genetics divides humanity.

No group is going around killing white people. There is no war outside of the one in the minds of these people. This is xenophobia 101 (and it looks a lot like PTSD) triggered by seeing people who don’t reflect back certain visual traits these individuals uphold as being ‘same’ and ‘safe.’ It’s tribalism in the modern world, and it’s time to get over it.

Xenophobias is an irrational fear (like the irrational fears created by PTSD or anxiety) that these people are unwilling to overcome. These people want to change their environment to the point of ethnic cleansing and genocide because they are unwilling to face the messed up things in their psyche that constantly compares the number of white skinned people to other skinned people and feels threatened. This is a mental disorder that can be overcome, but like the people with messed up things in their head, that person has to want to get over it first.

Watching these bigots march is like watching a bunch of alcoholics march down a street screaming the thing ruining their lives—that made them lose jobs, alienated them from friends and family, kept them from being in control of their actions, created a burden on their loved ones and society as a whole— is really good for them and the world should accept burning as a result. It’s like turning on America’s state run news (Fox) and watch them all congratulate and encourage drinking for alcoholics cuz surely it’s the right thing and who cares who gets hurts because a bunch of drunk people took to the streets in cars. Does that seem irrational? It sure does. But if you ever had PTSD, you can understand how the most irrational thoughts can seem rational when you’re too afraid to face what’s happening in your own head.

And that’s the core of it all. A white nationalist is a coward.

White nationalists are cowards not only because they are threatened by the mere existence of other people with a different skin tone or culture or language, but they’re too afraid to look inside their psyche and face that irrational fear. They are unwilling to do the hard work to heal and change and stop making war with people who don’t even know they exist. You think the gay person walking down the street, or the black person sitting at work, or the Mexican chatting with friends is even aware that this one person looking around is threatened by them? No. That war of hatred and irrational fear of a threat to personal safety lives in the mind of the white nationalist, not the massive human population who is just living their lives. Xenophobia is a false reality of the mind, and to not face that false reality and tear it down to live a better life is, yeah, absolutely cowardly.

This is all bigots everywhere. This is every person who has ever lied to themselves to feel better about the world around them. It’s part of human nature—a way to cope in times of stress—but it’s twisted and never turned off when it comes to bigotry, and the consequences are so much worse. Bigots won’t face the monsters in their heads to see their actions and irrational hatred are completely their own fault, and they instead blame things like the existence of other human beings on this giant globe. And then they try to get rid of all those other humans, or just as badly, they look the other way so they can pretend an ethnic cleansing isn’t happening.

What is happening in America with the removal of legal and illegal immigrants in this country by ICE is an ethnic cleansing. The caging of children of asylum seekers at the border is an inhumane hate crime. If you’re lying to yourself that what is happening is anything else, you are a coward.

But hey, there are a lot of cowards out there. I know, cuz again, while I sought to heal my PTSD, I watched so many run from it and die with it, including my own father. People would rather contribute to the wall of silence and lies that allows atrocities to happen than face their flaws and irrational fears.

Brace yourselves for Sunday, babes. Even if nothing goes down, it is a symbol of what is happening in this country. The President of the United States, his administration, and everyone who watches the state run media, Fox News, wants to see an ethnic cleansing of America. They want to take this country from Americans and only let the ‘white people’ stay. It doesn’t matter what lies they spew, what justifications they make; they refuse to look inside and face the fear that has led them to contribute to the xenophobia in this country. They want you to hear what they say because that is all they can bear to focus on instead of the sickening, dark hole inside they’re running from. That’s why they keep repeating the irrational lie over and over—they need a mantra to keep from staring into the abyss their soul has been consumed by.

Human beings make the rules. We have an ability to rewrite the rules. We have an ability to break the rules. We have an ability to choose our actions every single day. There should never be a law that allows the demoralization, imprisonment, and/or death of another human being based on where they happened to be born, the color of their skin, their social status, their wealth, their sexuality, or their culture. If someone falls back on that, again, they’re a coward and an accomplice by justifying bigotry and inhumane acts.

These people can talk at me all they like with their bullshit justifications, but I see through them. I see their fear, and I name it every time. You have to name it because if they grow complacent in their irrational fear and hatred, they will feel empowered to act. Silence empowers the bigots just as much as agreement because all they hear is their internal mantra of nonsense justification.

Be courageous, babes, and don’t be silent. It’s the only way to have the life you want. No fear is greater than the soul crushing consequence of never living your life.

$0.99 – New World Shifters: M/M Dystopian Romance Boxset

It’s the wolf shifters against the rest of the paranormals, in a world that’s gone to Hell.

In a Dystopian world where every human has died and the paranormals are left to fend for themselves, fated mates are impossible to find. And when found, dangerous to keep!

Get your copy of the New World Shifters today!

Warning: M/M sex and sweet happily ever afters.

Includes: The Omega Shift, Saving the Omega and The Alpha’s Omega Mate.

$0.99 – The Complete Sebastian Chronicles Books 1-5

The Sebastian Chronicles is a series of 5 Erotic Paranormal Short Stories that take you through each century since Sebastian Benoit’s Vampiric inception.

The novelettes in this series (in order) are:
Book 1 – Sebastian, the beginning (MF)
Book 2 – My servant, my lover (MF/MM)
Book 3 – Wealthy ménage (MF/MM/MFM/Menage)
Book 4 – Prohibition inhibitions (MF/MM/MFM/MMF/BDSM/Menage)
Book 5 – The Tryst (MF)

Throughout the chronicles, we live vicariously by way of our beloved Sebastian’s memories. Via his trials and tribulations, love lost and love found, only to have it disappear yet once again.

His love knows no boundaries, but will he ever find another whose soul binds with his?

$0.99 – Blood Spell

Bound by an ancient prophecy, freed by love.
Mages have lived by a prophecy that states that once there are two mage houses left, one must kill the other to maintain a magical balance. But the prophecy is disrupted when a new mage is revealed and begins killing everyone in his path.

Simon Moonspell and Tobias Bloodworth, the last two mages of the ancient houses, must put their animosity aside in order to stop this new mage and fulfill the prophecy. However, when their hatred slowly turns to love, can they remain impartial or will they be forced to battle to the death?

$0.99 – A Painful Hope

It was a soft kiss, chaste. Andrew knew that if he pressed for more, he could end up destroying the precious moment completely. But even so, he found himself wrapping his hand around the back of Eiran’s neck, and moving closer.

At first, Eiran jumped. But Andrew held him firmly in place. When he felt Eiran relax, he drew him close. He didn’t care about his arm, or the fact that he was hurting, just a little. Soon, he moved forward, causing Eiran to land on the bed. Those cold, icy eyes were still there. Andrew hesitated. “Are you sure? are you really sure?”

“Yes.”

How To Love A Monster

– Dying at the hands of government goons was always going to happen. Waking up in a dark and twisted afterlife? Not the plan. –

Seraphim has the superhuman ability to control his own brain. Or at least, he used to, before his government-mandated brain surgery. The surgery killed him, but life isn’t over yet. He’s just woken up, shivering and alone, in the rain-soaked alleyway of a city he doesn’t recognize.

Fiend is a childhood monster. Dreamed up by Seraphim’s friend Wish, he was imprisoned in Wish’s subconscious until the birth of Wish City, a place for people with superhuman abilities to take refuge after death. Now Fiend is free—and in charge—and he’s on the hunt for anyone with abilities once they cross over.

Eager to play with his new toy, Fiend quickly makes contact with Seraphim. Lost and injured, Seraphim lets Fiend slither into his heart. But under the aching pleasure the two find with each other is a hunger that can’t be denied, and lurking in the shadows of the neon city are truths neither man nor monster is ready to face.

How to Love a Monster is a gay erotic horror romance featuring twisted and kinky M/M sex, a diabolical love interest, and an HEA ending.

Omega In Lace: A MMM Menage Romance

It was more than just a secret.

Hank Mapplethorpe is hiding something big. When he meets the young and defiant Noah Palmer at a party, he wonders if he should finally let that secret go. That’s when he sees Adam Newton, a mysterious and famous photographer, known for his subversive imagery.

Hank never felt comfortable with other guys, so he decides to stay away from them both. He has secrets. Too many to count. Although the two alphas claim to understand him, they need to know one thing: Hank gave up looking for love a long time ago.

“The best love is made in threes…”

Adam and Noah know all about desire. Dark impulses keep them awake at night, and the pleasures that society won’t accept, they refuse to let go. So when Hank decides to take off his robe and show the world who he really is, they fall for him hard.

Love wasn’t supposed to come this easy, but the three of them want more. There’s only one way to the heart, but they never expected a love triangle as deep as this. If Hank finds the strength to come out, can he discover love in the arms of two men?

Omega in Lace is a full-length MMM gay romance novel with a dash of mpreg. It is a 45,000 word omegaverse book. This novel contains hot and sexy leather action & some menage scenes, passionate angst & desire, and a HEA – a beautiful baby to keep you smiling for days. This mpreg romance is meant for 18+ readers.

Aftershock

Being acquitted of Jamie’s murder won’t bring him back. Syed might be free, but he’s lost his lover and his sub, along with his sense of control, his libido, his friends, and the stomach to inflict the kind of pain Jamie thrived on. Even his high-rise apartment doesn’t suit him anymore.

Dashiell is drawn to the handsome man he represented in court, but he’s promised himself never to get involved with another confident playboy. His next boyfriend—if he can find such a thing—will see him as something more than a backup plan for a better offer. And how could he ever give a man like Syed what he wants anyway?

Dashiell fears the day Syed will ask him to bear more pain than he can handle as Syed struggles to reconcile how he’s coming to feel about Dashiell with how he still feels about Jamie. Can their fledgling relationship survive the discovery that Syed’s new sub might be representing the man who murdered his last sub?

Jamie deserves justice, Dashiell deserves love, and Syed wants to be the one to give both these men exactly what they need.

Content warning: this book includes descriptions of homophobic hate crimes. There is very mild BDSM content.

Demon Bonded Update And A Ton Of MM Deals This Week!

Hey babes <3

Hey, I’m nearly done with Demon Bonded episode #11! Working on the last two (three?) scenes this weekend. Finally. This baby got wordy. I think it’s going to hit 30,000 words by the time I’m officially done. @_@ I also posted the outline of the erotic short I plan on filling out next. I’ve yet to officially do anything dragon bestiality related, so might as well start things off with a (gang) bang. <3

I think I might jump right into Feral after that, the third book that follows Heat: Abducted to be his Mate, and Bite: Claiming his Mate. It fits the right length, I have a fair idea what I’m doing with it, and it’s totally a XXX level kind of story. Probably more so because there is no initial relationship between Will and his mate-to-be to soften the events that follow, unlike Heat where Ryan and Shane’s bickering past allowed for a mild level of safety and connection once you had Ryan lose his shit when the mating heat hit him. I want an excuse to explore a little Stockholm syndrome stuff, humiliation, maybe some golden showers and beast… although knowing me it might just get ridiculously cute. >_> I know, issues. XD

I’m thinking that will be fun. I’m disappointed I have to move away from the novels for a bit just to get some cash flowing, but it’s nice to return to some fun, dirty fuck fics and indulge. Speaking of which, I’m totally snagging that ‘Locked’ fic down below. I need to remember fun kinky stuff again.

Insanity Update

I was going to do a newsletter last week and ended up deciding against it. Wrote two of them, but legit, I was just too depressed. I didn’t like the voice I was using, didn’t like the place I was coming from, and I think all and all, it was the right decision. Moments pass—they’re just moments—and there is no reason to preserve the lowest fucking ones like they’re more important or are going to define anything moving forward. Depression is a blip, a hiccup in the face of the wonder life can bring, and I won’t dwell in that dark chasm when there is life to live.

I’m actually in my room—yeah, the killer bedroom of doom—and replacing all the stuff back on the walls, getting the shelves back up, and the computer. Carefully testing everything that comes back in the space to make sure it’s safe. All the windows are open and a fan has been blowing air out since I left… what, a month ago now? The days kind of blur at this point.

This is a tentative thing cuz I’m still having issues in the house in general. But as I sit here typing, waiting to finish ozoning my car (water got in there, it smells of mildew, and I’m trying really hard not to freak the fuck out that there might be mold growing in the one place I can sleep @_@) my pulse is fine. A calm 88 verse the 100+ bpm my heart hits when I’m in other parts of the house. I mean, I’m wearing my mask so it’s not a full indicator, but still, it’s a good sign. My pulse goes ape shit when I’m having a reaction, meaning I’m not having a reaction where I currently am. Yay.

We’ll see. I’m just setting the room up as an office in the hopes I can get some graphic work done in here. I’m not getting my hopes up that everything has suddenly fixed itself, but I do have hope that we may be moving in the right direction. Because, legit, I cannot get my hopes up. Multiple Chemical Sensitivity has on average a seven year length to fully heal. Even without knowing the source of this, that fact is pretty standard in a lot of reading. So things can change pretty fucking quick depending on which way the wind is blowing. I’ve read about people moving 13 times seeking a place of safety. I’m not falling into the trap of thinking anything is permanent right now. I gotta adapt and flow.

The first of the lab reports came back and I can officially say I don’t have Mast Cell Activation Syndrome, which is great, but means we still don’t know what set me off. We just noticed the bath water has a blue-green tinge so we’re checking for copper. Apparently copper toxicity can lead to immune problems, tics, anxiety, psych disorders—it can even mimic Parkinson’s—etc, etc. It’s a good contender for being what might have fucked me up this long, and hey, there are paints made for boats that specifically have copper in them for certain underwater properties, and there was that weird marine epoxy under my room for 2 years. No guarantee—it’s still a fucking guessing game and we’re getting the copper water test in the mail in half a week—but it’s another thing we’re checking.

I’ve found a rhythm to life once again. I’m writing fairly consistently. It’s a little difficult because I find myself playing chauffeur 5 days out of 7, and once I’m moving around, it’s hard to wrangle my brain into a place of writing. Seeking shade, seeking quiet, seeking any place where I open the window and don’t end up breathing in something that makes me sick; it’s fucking time consuming. Oh, and I can’t go to bookstores anymore. I started reacting to the scent of ink and paper, so, yeah, fuck my life. But my brain is working. The last few days have been the clearest it’s been in a while. Keeping expectations low, but again, hope.

I refuse to wait seven years to start my life again. Fuck that. I will not be waiting seven years to get back to Sorcerer Slayer. Fuck that. I am not putting my life on hold. I am distracted by this, by my need to make an income while I’ve been in pain and disabled on a level I haven’t had to deal with in a long time, but I’m not fucking waiting. Moving forward. Planning. Gaining ground. This shit is happening even if I’m writing out of a car, or van, or a damn cardboard (mold free, thank you) box. I’m not waiting for anything anymore. I gotta live now.

I know what I want out of life, peeps. When I finished that new Demon Arms cover, I could see a future unfold beyond what I had ever imagined for myself. No mountain is too big, no bullshit remotely worth my time. I’m heading toward my dreams and fuck anything that tries to get in my way. My inner rhino is on this shit. Rawr! XD

Locked – Free in KU

I can see the headline now: Locked Boys Transcend Tumblr. My article on Chip and Billy—two twinks locked in the name of love—is going to take this niche kink mainstream.

When Marshall arrives to interview The Chastity Brothers, he has much to learn from them about frustration and denial, about service and devotion, about what kind of men get to play the role of alpha male and what kind of men allow the very essence of their manhood to be controlled, ignored, locked up, and denied.

The interview starts Marshall on an exciting and erotic adventure into the world of locked boys and their alpha male partners as he escorts Chip and Billy to a gang bang, meets Niblet and some of the members of the motorcycle club who keep him, visits the estate where Spike spends his nights in a crate, and learns an important lesson of love from an older alpha male who’ll never forget the boy who got away.

And somewhere along his journey, he might just find a locked boy of his own.

Content advisory: This is a non-romantic, highly kinky story that includes sharing, gang bangs, extreme orgasm denial, and light humiliation

Lead to Follow: Tales of the Werewolf Tribes – $0.99

Werewolves, adventure, and romance

An attempt on Ganzorig’s life by members of his own tribe sends the Siberian Killers into turmoil. On the brink of civil war, Ganzorig’s role as a beta and the Mongolian leadership of the tribe are under threat. A relationship is the last thing Ganz needs, especially since the man he is falling for is a prime target for the Russian packs challenging his rule.

Cristian has enough on his plate ruling the Dacian Wolves. His alpha spends most of her time in the UK and the Romanian packs turn to him for leadership. Getting dragged into Siberian Killer feuds, discovering their male beta is who Cristian is falling for, and having a permanent target on his back are not things he’s bargained for.

A grueling fight for survival, great plans for the future, and an attraction that’s undeniable bring Ganzorig and Cristian together. Faced with real danger, tribe responsibilities, and their own fears, it hardly seems enough to keep them from going their separate ways.

Forged In Flood – $0.99

From bestselling author Dahlia Donovan comes a new witty novella between three very different men. With drama, emotional turmoil, and hilarious banter, be prepared to be swept away in Dahlia’s British M/M/M romance.

When one drunken night forever scars three best friends, will they ever find a way to pick up the pieces?

Eaten up with guilt, Ivan Black spends ten years hiding from the world. He retreats to his family forge to wallow in misery. Alone. So lonely his heart aches with it.

Wesley Cook and Rolland Spence have been together since university. They struggle through the physical scars of the accident, building a life in the ruins of their dreams. They find happiness but continue to miss their angry ginger Viking—Ivan.

In all the anger of wasted years, the three men find a way to forge a relationship as hot as the fires in the smithy.

Forged in Flood is a stand-alone British contemporary M/M/M romance. With heartache, hot men with foul mouths, and plenty of heat, enjoy getting to know Ivan, Wesley, and Roland.

Vampire Love: Gay Vampire MPREG Romance – $0.99

Can Their Love Withstand Their Fathers’ Feud?

A war has been declared. Only, it was a secret war. Claude and Ronnie live in a divided city -split in two by their fathers’ feud. But it’s also divided by fear. On one side stand humans, united and powerful and on the other side, vampires run, alone and scared.

Caught up in the middle is spoilt rich kid Claude. Not long ago, he was a carefree playboy. But now, is a virtual recluse. Because he is the thing that his father hates even more than his business rival. A vampire. And when he saves mysterious stranger, Ronnie, from certain death, he finds himself in serious danger… from his own father!

Soon both their lives are hotly entwined … in more ways than one! With a price on their heads, they must both run from their families. And will they make it out of the city alive?

Truth Be Told – $0.99

M/M contemporary romance story.

Patrick is gorgeous, gay, and a lawyer climbing the corporate ladder. His fears about what his family and colleagues will think about his sexuality mean that he wants to stay firmly in the closet. When he goes to a new club in search of a one-night stand, he is picked up by Liam, the bar’s owner.

Liam is big, beautiful, and also a top. A hot and heavy night ensues leaving them both thinking there could be more to their hook-up than just sex.

But Liam is out and proud gay. His integrity will not stand for Patrick’s closeted sexuality. Patrick asks for enough time to come to terms with all the changes Liam will bring to his life…and major problems occur.

Warning: Lot’s of M/M sex in this standalone novella. Including some light bdsm and a super sweet happily ever after.

Conversations with an Angel – Free

Jamal has a typical mother who’d like him to succeed in all aspects of life, especially when it comes to marriage. But Jamal already has a partner. His name is Farnham.

And while Jamal doesn’t want to disappoint his family, his mother’s interference is pushing Farnham away. In the end it will take a voice of reason to help Jamal rethink his life.

Tainted Life – Free

A contemporary gay romance set in London