Monday, October 23, 2017

New from T. Strange!

Genre: paranormal romance, M/M, contemporary romance
Length: 71,000 words 

About this Book:

Any city is bound to collect restless dead. Armed with the notebook of Icelandic magic his ex boyfriend, Bone, gave him, Edward Grey has been tasked with removing troubled spirits or finding ways for the living and the dead to coexist in harmony. Between planning his wedding with his undead Canadian fiancé, Kit Ward, and his continued studies as a medical student, Edward didn’t need another commitment, but he can’t turn away people who are frightened or in danger. 

A particularly vicious ghost gives Edward an ominous warning—they’re coming—and a few days later Edward’s notebook is stolen from him. While he’s attempting to find it, he and his mentor, Mariel, are confronted by a very powerful necromancer and barely escape with their lives. 

On the run, Edward is pursued everywhere he goes, until the necromancers following him manage to capture Kit. 

Edward’s hunt for his kidnapped fiancé will take him to the underworld and beyond.


I was sweating by the time I arrived at Bone’s apartment. I pressed the buzzer for his unit and waited. I was terrified that I’d be grabbed at any moment, that Bone wasn’t home, that they’d already gotten to him and were holding him at gunpoint—it crossed my mind that he’d probably find that sexy, and I dismissed the thought as quickly as possible—and were waiting upstairs to capture me. I had almost convinced myself to walk away, to come up with another plan—though I had no other ideas—when the speaker crackled to life. 

“’lo?” Bone’s voice sounded muffled, like his mouth was full. Was he gagged? Was he with someone? 

“Who is it?” he asked, when I took too long to answer. 

“It’s Ed—ward.” I’d almost called myself Ed; he’d trained me well. 

I definitely heard him swallow. “Ed! Come on up, I’ve got a surprise for you.” 

That couldn’t be good. Maybe he was trying to talk me into a threesome, with someone who wasn’t Kit—not that Kit could ever be convinced, for love or money, to sleep with Bone.

The door buzzed and I pulled it open automatically, no longer sure I wanted to go upstairs, but I needed to find Kit and I couldn’t do it alone. 

The minute I opened the door between the stairs and Bone’s hallway, something felt…wrong. Usually my intuition isn’t very good, but my forearms and the back of my neck prickled. I tapped on Bone’s door, lightly, with one finger. The door swung open; it wasn’t even fully closed, never mind locked. Not like Bone, not at all. He’s paranoid about security. He usually doesn’t even let me in without physically seeing me first. The hall was strangely quiet, too. Bone usually has screaming, throbbing metal rock music playing. I have no idea why his neighbours haven’t gotten him kicked out of the building—maybe they’ve met him.

A small, triangular face appeared in the doorway, the movement—low to the ground and inhuman—startling me, but it was only one of Bone’s many ‘rescue’ ghost cats. 

I clucked to her, and she very cautiously stalked over to me, most of her going through rather than out the door. I wondered, briefly, how Bone kept the ghost cats from wandering. 

Petting the cat felt like I was stroking fur submerged in icy water. I was so hot from fear and walking in my unseasonably warm coat that the coolness was almost a relief.

I’d delayed long enough. I nudged the door open, wide enough for more than a cat to pass through. The ghost cat escorted me inside, marching in front of me, kinked tail held high and proud. I couldn’t see any visible signs of how she’d died, the way I could with some of them, and I was okay with that. 

The apartment was dark—not only were the windows covered, as usual, in thick blackout curtains, but the lights were all out, except for one at the end of the hall. The bathroom light. Why was Bone in the bathroom, with the door open, when he knew I’d be coming up right away?

The clowder of ghostly felines glowed softly in the darkness, the intensity gently rising and falling to the rhythm of their purrs. It was both beautiful and eerie at the same time. Kind of like Bone himself. 

“Hello?” I stepped around several ghost cats, trying not to look at them too carefully so I wouldn’t have to see the gruesome injuries some of them bore. I also had to make sure I didn’t step on Bone’s one living cat, a Ukrainian Levkoy named Rasputin. 

“I’m in here,” Bone replied, his voice still oddly muffled. Was he eating in the bathroom?

Learn more about the Undead Canadian Series: Here

About the Author:

T. Strange didn't want to learn how to read, but literacy prevailed and she hasn't stopped reading—or writing—since. She's been published since 2013, and she writes M/M romance in multiple genres. T.'s other interests include cross stitching, gardening, watching terrible horror movies, playing video games, and finding injured pigeons to rescue. 

Originally from White Rock, BC, she lives on the Canadian prairies, where she shares her home with her wife, cats, guinea pigs, and a small dog. She's very easy to bribe with free food and drinks—especially wine.

Find T. Strange Online:

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Tuesday, October 10, 2017

New Gay Collection

Paranormal Gay Menage and Erotic Romance

Available in print and ebook October 13; pre-order now!

About This Book:

Myths, moons, and mayhem make the perfect threesome—and so do the men in this anthology. 

Enjoy nine erotic stories of paranormal ménages a trois fueled by lust and magic, where mystical forces collide with the everyday world and even monsters have their own demons to conquer. 

A werewolf gets a lust-fueled lesson on fitting in with the pack, a professor unlocks ancient secrets and two men’s hearts, and a pair of supernaturals find themselves at the erotic mercy of a remarkable human. Ghosts, fairies, aliens, and mere mortals test the boundaries of their desires, creating magic of their own.

Penned by favorite authors such as Rob Rosen and Clare London, as well as by newcomers to the genre, Myths, Moons & Mayhem is an eclectic mix of paranormal lust and polymythic beings that will spark your fantasies and fuel your bonfires.

Inside Man by Clare London—At a London pub, a tear in the veil between the dead and living opens up new possibilities for a ghost who could only ever watch the men he desired, but never touch.

The Secret of the Golden Cup by Rebecca Buchanan—A classics professor finds himself at the center of a magical war. With an unfairly attractive student and a campus janitor as his only allies, can he stave off the forces of evil?

When The Big Moon Shines by Carl Redlum—A college student is intent on hunting down the man who turned him into a werewolf. But his mouthwatering neighbors keep getting in the way.

Careful What You Wish For by Elizabeth Coldwell—Josh dreams of meeting Mr. Right, so his roommate offers help with a love spell. Neither man is prepared for what happens when the spell begins to work.

The Cave by Dale Cameron Lowry—Losing sleep to the sounds of his tent-neighbors’ nightly lovemaking has nature photographer Ethan at his wit’s end. What kind of magic can convince the two men he should join them?

The Endless Knot by Morgan Elektra—The fiery romance between a vampire and a werewolf threatens to burn itself to the ground until a human teaches them to temper the flame.

Squatchin’ by Greg Kosebjorn—Two Bigfoot hunters get more than they bargained for when they set out on an overnight camping trip to trail the legendary beast.

Celyn’s Tale by Rhidian Brenig Jones—A young Welsh farmer is haunted by visions of his future lover, only to discover that the lover is not one, but two—and not exactly human, either.

Close Encounter of the Three-way Kind by Rob Rosen—In this quirky comedy, aliens arrive from another galaxy, but they’re more interested in consensual exploration than invasion. Alien probing never felt so good!

Excerpt from "Inside Man" by Clare London:

I haven’t had the luxury of a cock in hand for a long, long time. 

Not my own, and not anyone else’s. Because that’s what happens when you snuff it. The loss of corporeal touch, that is. You get used to it over time, believe me—those early days of stepping through the back of a sofa, grabbing for a handhold when you fall and watching your arm just pass through a decoupaged coffee table; they’re thankfully in the past—but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss it. 

You know what I mean, right? There are times when sexual need is a pure, unadulterated agony, when the desire is as mentally strong as ever, but the limbs won’t respond. Times when I’d give up all the new benefits—you know, sharper hearing, no need to buy a train ticket, free front seats at the gig of my choice, and the chance to see what politicians are really doing behind closed doors with their expense accounts—just for the chance to feel my own junk again. To scratch my pubes. To fold my palm around my dick and feel the sheath crinkle and stretch. To reach a finger down to nudge my balls. To sigh with the cleanest, simplest pleasure of all, of satisfying myself. 

And one of those times is right fucking now, watching these two guys together. 

They’re a gorgeous couple: not model material, or that overgroomed, city trader look. They’re just young, living life, naturally good-looking, and… really fine. Just over an hour ago, they came into this bar on Blackfriars Bridge, at the end of a long, languidly hot London day. The place is packed with tourists eating overpriced snacks while fanning themselves frantically with their A–Z maps, kids whining because the signal for their phones is unreliable, and city workers who’ve discarded their jackets and ties, surrendering to the damp clamminess of their shirts, and are gulping sauvignon blanc like it’s water. It’s Friday, the end of the working week. 

This is one of my favourite places: you see a huge cross-section of humanity here, whatever time of day or night I visit. Which, let’s face it, is all much the same to me. 

These guys are now sitting at a corner table, sheltered from the crowds at the bar, their heads leaning toward each other, almost touching, but not quite. There’s a tangible spark between them. I see it in the way each one’s gaze is fixed on the other; the way their fingers brushed together when Guy #1 passed a pint over to Guy #2. Yet they’re discreet. No embraces, no caresses. Maybe they’re not out to their workmates. Maybe they’re just modest in public. But the familiarity I see between them implies they’ve been a couple for a while. 

Guy #1 is on the left, the taller of the two, even sitting down, with a shallow buzz cut of black hair, a neat beard, and bronzed forearms. He’s in a tailored suit, his shirtsleeves rolled up against the heat, the front of his crisp white shirt a little creased over a stocky torso. His shoes are pinching—I can tell by the way he’s stuck his feet out from under the table and is rubbing one against the other—and his shoulder muscles are tight with tension. 

If I still had my touch, I could massage it away. I used to be bloody good at that. 

Guy #2 is on the right. He’s younger, with plenty of upper body muscle but slimmer hips and legs, and shaggy hair half scooped up under his beanie. He’s dressed more casually in jeans and a polo shirt, his hands coarser, his boots dirty from brick dust and long-ingrained paint. He’s more relaxed than his partner, but bolder too. How can I know that? I can’t always explain how I do. For now, it’s something about the easy way he’s stretched out his legs under the table, the fact that he seems restless sitting down, and restricted by the limited space in the pub. His smile is quick to appear, though it’s quenched as swiftly. His hand darts across the table top, as if to grasp the other guy’s, but stalls somewhere behind the menu holder, cradling the salt cellar instead. 

Perhaps he knows the touch isn’t welcomed. His frown tells me he’s not pleased about it. 

What’s the problem between them? 

Has it just been a shitty day at work? Have they argued? I shift, as much as my postlife movement can be measured by human terms, and examine those expressions more closely. Guy #1 is angry; tense. But despite that, he adores Guy #2, he wants him like breath. That’s very clear to me—many times I can sense emotions as keenly as I used to savour the smoke from a particularly fine cigar—but there’s something holding him back. His most honest desire? It’s to drag Guy #2 into the gents, find a lockable cubicle, and drop to his knees in front of him. 

About the Editor:

Dale Cameron Lowry’s number one goal in life is getting the cat to stop eating dish towels; number two is to write things that bring people joy. Dale is the author of Falling Hard: Stories of Men in Love and a contributor to more than a dozen anthologies. Find out more at, or contact Dale at


Authors: Rebecca Buchanan, Elizabeth Coldwell, Rhidian Brenig Jones, Morgan Elektra, Greg Kosebjorn, Clare London, Dale Cameron Lowry, Carl Redlum, Rob Rosen

Publisher: Sexy Little Pages

Universal Buy Link:

Friday, October 6, 2017

Choose Your Pleasure

Curl up this Fall and get your Halloween vibes going! "Choose Your Pleasure: The Dragon's Gift, A Lesbian Tale" is releasing October 11th, 2017!

In this unique title, you become the main character, the story design yours to create. In addition to the original story thread, there are multiple new pathways to choose from, five different love interests, and a dozen possible endings. Will you find a happily ever after, a content existence, or a situation that completely surprises you? The choice is yours.

"You," the college student, have been in love with Maxine as long as you can remember, but Maxine is straight, isn't she? Despite feeling you have little chance, you sit through Maxine’s latest theatre performance about a dragon to show your never ending support as her best friend. Besides, Maxine’s promise of a surprise for you following the show has piqued your interest. But what happens at the show? Do you bump into an old flame, meet a busty beauty, connect with a curly haired stranger, lose your sanity, or curl up next to the love of your life? In the dark, under the stage, inside a restroom or a bar, the allure and desire for a happy ending is within reach... Choose wisely.

This book contains graphic descriptions of intimacy and is intended for an adult audience. 

Find this book on Radish Fiction

You can read the FREE version of the original short story on Radish Fiction

Read about the writing process of this type of story here on the blog

Coming to Amazon November 30th, 2017

Wednesday, October 4, 2017

The Choose Your Pleasure Experience

There’s always that one story you wish had ended differently and an alternate decision or direction you think your favorite character could have taken. These are the stories that eat away at the mind, living on in the imagination, the possibilities begging to be explored. And they can be. 

While writing The Dragon’s Gift, I originally planned a very dark ending. In order to please my then-publisher, I curbed my ending to something entirely different from what I had in mind to fall within their guidelines. As I thought over this experience, I realized my story could have ended in any number of ways. Not only could they, but they should have. This was when I decided to expand upon my original plot, throwing myself full on into my first Choose Your Pleasure style book.

This was an experiment in where I learned many things.
1) Multiple plots means multiple stories
2) It would be more challenging than I anticipated
3) You can get sued for using trademarks like "Choose Your Own Adventure" and it's best to google/check online that your title/idea isn't the property of someone else.

While writing Choose Your Pleasure: The Dragon’s Gift, A Lesbian Tale, I ran into some challenges. 

The first thing I struggled with was maintaining a good balance of possibilities. Classic CYOA books have happily ever afters, happy for nows, death endings, unhappy endings, and runarounds where multiple plot lines converge. The story twists and turns in the second person point of view and literally sucks the reader in. The advantage to this is that the reader (to the extent of the author’s imagination) is responsible for their own destiny, and if unhappy with the outcome, can go back and explore a new pathway. There’s never a reason to put the book down or cast it aside because it’s disliked. After exploring the outcomes I originally wished to have happen for my story, I had to go back through and determine how I could also include the classic plotlines that were missing. This proved difficult for me as an author due to my complete lack of ability to outline. I’ve always struggled at planning ahead on paper or on the computer. My stories are usually organic, growing inside my head and transferring to the keyboard at the pace of thought. But my traditional writing ways weren’t good enough for this project. I had to plot ahead. A lot.

Another problem I ran into were plotlines that didn’t go anywhere or ran in circles. It’s true that traditional CYOA books allow for such things, but too much runaround irritates the reader. To avoid this, new plot lines have to be created, which produces additional story threads at an exponential rate. Too many directions become impossible to keep track of no matter what system you’re using. As a result, some endings are more abrupt than others. Still, this happened in the classic tales as well.

Although challenging and requiring significant time to create, I can honestly say that I’m satisfied with the outcome. The best part of this project was being able to delve into a story and explore all the possibilities that my creativity desired. I was even forced to create options I never foresaw in order to complete the book. I enjoyed the experience enough to desire writing another one. I always look forward to discovering new ways to write a story and improve upon my craft.

You can find my Choose Your Pleasure: The Dragon's Gift, A Lesbian Tale, on Radish Fiction as of October 11th 2017 (where many chapters are available for free, or on Amazon mid November 2017)