Saturday, 21 December 2024

Home of the Strange (Worldwalkers 1) by J.K. Hogan

NEW RELEASE

Book Title: Home of the Strange (Worldwalkers 1)

Author and Publisher: J.K. Hogan

Cover Artist: Wicked Pixel Designs

Release Date: December 19, 2024

Pairing: MM

Tense/POV: First person, present tense, alternating POV

Genres: Near-future, semi-apocalyptic urban fantasy romance with monsters/cryptids

Tropes: monsters, a bit of mystery 

Themes: Neurodivergence, unconventional heroes, did I mention monsters?

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 245 pages 

It is part of a series but it’s the first book. There's no cliffhanger. Each book in the series is about different characters so there is an HEA for these two, although the epilogue is a little teaser about the next book.

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US   |  Amazon UK 

What will happen when worlds collide?

Blurb

Maddox is just trying to get by. Navigating a world that’s not built for people like him—people who are different—can be hard, but he keeps his head down and muddles through. Until his strictly ordered life gets turned upside down by a sighting of something that just…should not exist.

Driven by their shared love of mysteries—and cryptids—Mads and his small group of equally outcast friends get pulled into the mystery of a lifetime. In this new reality, one where supernatural beings exist and the world might be ending, Mads somehow finds the confidence to throw himself headlong into the fray. Because nobody’s going to worry about how different he is when nothing is normal anymore.

Kisa has one mission: track his targets and dispense justice or rescue, depending on who he is pursuing. He was most certainly not supposed to become infatuated with the native creatures of this strange place—well, one in particular—yet he finds himself unable to stay away. When he begins to understand that Maddox and his friends have a part to play in all this madness, all he can do is go along for the ride and try to keep them all alive.

Excerpt

KISA

His scent is intoxicating. I have decided the creature is male based on physical features and the sound of his voice, but I am prepared to be corrected if I have misinterpreted. No matter what he is, his aroma has ensnared me with its sweetness. I keep edging nearer, wanting only to be close to him. I wish I could touch him, but any move I make only seems to frighten him more.

I try to ask him if his head is paining him, but of course, he cannot understand my language any more than I do his. The only information I have been able to glean from him is that he is indeed a hue-mann, the dominant species of this sphere—a fact which still surprises me—and I am able to tell him that I am Daemalian, though that will mean little to him.

I inch closer to him once again but freeze when he flinches and squeezes his eyes shut. It is so frustrating to be unable to communicate with him. I like the sound of his voice and wish he would say more, even though I cannot understand the words. I splay my hand across my chest once again and say, “I am Kisa, son of Kamiel, son of Kumandra. What is your name?” I point to him at the end.

He blinks those big, strange-colored eyes at me with no sign of understanding. I try again. Tapping my chest, I say simply, “Kisa.” Then I point to him.

His eyes widen, and his lips curl slightly as if he wants to smile but cannot quite manage it. Then he touches his chest and says, “Maddox . . . Mads.”

Two similar names with unfamiliar words in between. Maybe the second one is a familiar title. Some of my kind have both a formal title and a familiar one. I do not know this creature well enough to be familiar, so I will use his formal title until he tells me otherwise. I test it out on my tongue, trying to bend my lips to make the awkward sounds. “Mad . . . dox,” I say carefully.

This time he does smile, brilliantly. His teeth are small and blunt, that of a prey animal—so odd for an apex species—but the act transforms his face from intriguing to beautiful. I shuffle closer and give him my best smile. I realize too late what he would see—a mouthful of sharp fangs on full display.

With a gasp, his entire body jolts, and his eyes roll back before he topples over, unconscious. At least, I hope he is only unconscious. I will have a lot of explaining to do to my superiors if they learn I have frightened a hue-mann to death. But when I hold my hand under his nose, I feel his warm breath. I puff out a sigh of relief. Successfully avoided an interspherical incident. Barely.

Not frightened to death, just frightened into fainting. With a sigh, I climb to my feet and gently lift him. As I carry him to his nest, I try to ignore how much I like the feel of him in my arms. Once he is deposited on his bed, I do something I know I should not. I brush his hair away from his face, luxuriating in the soft silkiness of it. A shiver ripples through me. Why does this creature affect me so?

For now, I must leave him alone to process all he has seen. He was frightened, yes, but not as terrified as I would have expected a prey animal to be. I want to find out more about this species—for research purposes, of course—and for better or worse, this creature and I have made a connection. I will leave him to sleep, but I will return. I am far from finished with . . . with Maddox.

About the Author

J.K. Hogan is a pan/demi nerd living in North Carolina with her husband, two sons, and their pets. She’s been telling stories for as long as she can remember, beginning with writing character lists and storylines for her toys growing up. In addition to being an author, J.K. is an autist, an artist, and an activist, with a special place in her heart for Star Trek. When she isn’t writing, J.K. can be found designing book covers at Wicked Pixel Designs, creating fiber art and supplies at Earthbound Fiber Arts, watching Hurricanes Hockey and, of course, reading!

For more information, visit her Website

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Saturday, 14 December 2024

North Star, Yule Lads 2 by TA Moore

NEW RELEASE

Book Title: North Star, Yule Lads 2

Author: TA Moore

Publisher: Rogue Firebird Press

Cover Artist: Tammy Moore

Release Date:  December 15, 2024

Pairing: MM

Tense/POV: third person/alternating POV

Genres: Urban Fantasy

Tropes: Opposites attract, Secret lovers, Us against the World, Tough Guy in Soppy Love

Themes: Family is what you make it, Love Languages

Heat Rating: 4 flames    

Length: 50 000 words/ 130 pages

It is the sequel to True North. It does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links

Amazon US    |   Amazon UK

Dylan Hollie saved Christmas, not that he can tell anyone about it.

Blurb

Dylan Hollie saved Christmas, not that he can tell anyone about it. 


Now all he has to worry about is finding out who killed the previous Santa and set everything in motion.

It should be easy enough. He's got plenty of suspects. Between Santa's ambitious relatives, who all think they could do a better job of filling out the red suit, and the impenetrable mire of Winter Court politics there were more people who wanted the jolly man dead than alive.

Right now the prime suspects are the Yule Lads. Santa's magically contracted bodyguards; the Lads have been at this too many centuries to fail so comprehensively all at once.

Dropped into the middle of this, in a world he'd never believed in, Dylan has to try and work out who to trust, and that maybe the answer is no-one.

He'd also like to know if Santas ever retire. The benefits are good, and the health insurance is insane, but he definitely doesn't want to be Santa this year! 

Excerpt 

“Just to be clear, it’s not a Christmas party,” the dark-haired man said as he ushered the two paramedics off the lift and onto the floor belonging to Demre and Hill Finances. “It’s an end-of-year celebration.”

Nobody had asked.

Dylan hefted his jump bag up onto his shoulder and cocked his head to one side as he looked the man up and down. 

“Huh,” he said.

Normally he would be all for a non-denominational December. Not everything had to be about Christmas. In fact, right now, the less he heard about it the better. That said, it seemed a little disingenuous to make that claim on the twenty-first of December while wearing a Santa suit.

The man was self-aware enough to look awkward as he adjusted the fur-lined collar of his suit. He flushed and pulled the fake beard down under his chin. The elastic dug into his ears.

“This was…for the children,” he said.

Dylan glanced at his watch. The second hand ticked along inexorably as the date on the face quivered a minute away from clicking over to the twenty-second. 

“Really?” he asked.

Alice stepped past him

“You’ve made his day,” she said cheerfully. “He hates Christmas.”

The man preened just a little under her attention. Alice tended to have that effect on people. Sometimes Dylan wondered what the fact they’d been made partners said about him.

“I don’t hate Christmas,” Dylan responded on autopilot. “It just shouldn’t start in—”

“August. I know,” Alice said. She gave the not-Santa a megawatt smile and rolled her eyes in mock-exasperation. “That’s how long he’s been complaining about the Dollar Store having reindeer dog toys in stock. So what’s the problem? Your call said someone had an accident?”

The man started to answer, stopped himself, and pulled a dubious face.

“I guess?” he said. “You kind of have to see for yourself.”

He gestured for them to follow him and headed across the lobby toward the smoked glass doors that led the way into the Demre and Hill’s offices. Dylan leaned over to mutter to Alice as they started after him.

“You don’t see Easter eggs in October.”

She jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow. “Give it a rest.”

Fine. Dylan gestured his surrender and stretched his legs to catch up with Not-Santa as the man held the doors open for them. The speaker-distorted sound of the latest poppy Christmas hit spilled out through the gap, saccharine sweet and quick paced.

“It’s Spotify,” Not-Santa said defensively before Dylan could even hitch an eyebrow. 

It might be. That wasn’t enough to help his case, though. Maybe he could pass the colored paper chains off as a craft project, but the six-foot decorated spruce in the middle of the office would be hard to pass off as anything but Christmas. 

If Not-Santa wanted to live in denial, though…far be it from Dylan to burst his bubble.

“Can you give us any idea what happened?” he prodded instead.

As they headed through the office, the deflated-looking partygoers shuffled awkwardly out of their way. One of them caught a glare from Not-Santa and quickly pulled the paper crown off his head to stuff in his pocket.

About the Author

TA Moore is a Northern Irish writer of romantic suspense, urban fantasy, and contemporary romance novels. A childhood in a rural, seaside town fostered in her a suspicious nature, a love of mystery, and a streak of black humour a mile wide.

Coffee, Doc Marten boots, and good friends are the essential things in life. Spiders, mayo, and heels are to be avoided.

Author Links

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