Sunday, December 31, 2023

New Year’s gifts for you! #FreeBook #NewYearsEve #FreeStory

New Year's Eve graphic

Hello, Readers!

As we prepare to bid farewell to 2023, I want to thank you for tagging along with me during the past year. Next year promises to be exciting. In addition to several shorter books, I’ll be releasing my brand new paranormal romance novel Fangs, Fur and the Single Girl, hopefully during the first quarter. I’ll also be bringing out an expanded 25th anniversary edition of my very first novel, Raw Silk.

Join my VIP email list (see the button in the right sidebar) to keep up with all my news.

Meanwhile, to celebrate New Year’s, you have a very limited time opportunity to snag the first book in my best-selling steampunk erotica/romance series The Toymakers Guild for free.

1. Go to the Smashwords page for the novel:

2. Click the Buy button under the cover.

3. Enter this coupon code: BF88W

The price will go to zero. You can then download the book in your choice of ebook formats.

This offer expires at midnight on the 31st!

If you’re looking for something shorter, hop over to the Sweet n’ Sexy Divas blog, where I’ve got a quick, funny New Year’s romance tale for your delectation.

Whatever you do today... I do hope you’ll take time for some fun. Celebrate!

Wednesday, December 27, 2023

A New England blizzard and a second chance at love – #SecondChanceRomance #HolidayRomance #MFRWHooks

Once Upon a Blizzard banner

Happy Wednesday! I just remembered that I have another holiday title I haven’t featured yet during the past month. I indulged in a lot of nostalgia writing Once Upon a Blizzard – both the setting and the characters are loosely based on events and people from my past.



No electricity. No water. Plenty of heat.

Suzanne and Gino have a history going back to high school, but for more than a decade the workaholic CEO has been thousands of miles from her New England home town.

A mistletoe kiss at a Christmas party rekindles the old spark and Suzanne finds some things do indeed get better with age. When Gino rescues her from a blizzard, though, she discovers that she's not the only love in his life. Gino shares his bed and his colonial-era farm house with taciturn painter Harris Steele.

Snowed in with two lusty men who truly seem to care, she wonders why she’s so determined to return to her lonely West Coast life. Is there really a chance for a holiday happy ending? 

MFRW Book Hooks banner

The Hook

The mug of tea cupped in her hands chased the last bit of numbness from Suzanne’s fingers. Propped up on a couch in Gino’s spacious kitchen, swaddled in quilts, she watched him toss another log on the roaring fire. He moved with easy grace, a man at home in his own skin.

The heat from the blaze matched the desire simmering in her belly. She felt her body expanding, unfolding. Her tension and fear evaporated. In their place came delicious comfort edged with arousal. Gino poked at the glowing timbers piled on the hearth. She admired the line of his broad back and the curve of his buttocks under the stretched denim.

Gino,” she called softly. “Come here.”

He gave her a smile that rivaled the blaze he tended. “Suzanne?” He sauntered over to sit beside her half-prone form. “How are you feeling?”

Much better, thanks to you. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come along.” She grasped his hand, entwining their fingers. He laid his other hand on top. It might have just been a gesture of friendship, but it sent sparks swirling through her. Her nipples tightened into hungry knots.

You know, Suzy, I had this strange feeling. Jack and I had just settled down to our annual game of chess—one of our traditions—when suddenly I knew I had to leave. I told them I had a headache, and actually, it felt a bit that way—some kind of urgent need pounding in my skull. When I saw the car burrowed into the snow bank, I knew right away that it was you.”

I’m so grateful.” He was close enough now that she could smell him, wood smoke with an undercurrent of wintergreen. “I was pretty scared.”

You should have let me drive you,” Gino scolded. “But then you always were stubborn.” He leaned back, away from her, and released her hand. Suzanne wanted to pull him closer. Why did he hesitate? Didn’t he know she wanted him?

I’ve got to be back in California by Monday morning,” she murmured. “Important meeting. But I don’t suppose there’s any possibility of getting to my hotel tonight, is there?”

Not a snowball’s chance in hell,” Gino replied triggering a laugh that relieved some of the strain. “The governor’s called for a state of emergency. The Mass Pike is closed to all but emergency vehicles. Latest forecasts say we’re going to get two feet.” He caught her eyes as though trying to read her thoughts. “Lady, you’re stuck here for the foreseeable future.”

Suzanne reached for him. “In that case, why don’t you kiss me?”

He allowed her to bring his lips within inches of hers. Then he stopped her. “Are you sure? I got the idea back at the party that I made you nervous. That you still weren’t interested in being more than friends.”

You do make me nervous—but in a good way. I feel like a teenager when you’re around, hot and bothered, excited and embarrassed. You’ve always made me feel that way.”

And that’s good?”

I’m beginning to think so. Why don’t you kiss me and we can find out?”

Once Upon a Blizzard cover

Buy Links

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Amazon UK


Barnes and Noble


Apple Books -

Add on Goodreads:

Be sure to visit the other authors participating in today’s Book Hooks!

Sunday, December 24, 2023

Charity Sunday for Kids on a Journey – #Immigration #Home #CharitySunday

Charity Sunday Banner

Merry Christmas! Thank you for taking a few minutes from your holiday activities to visit and participate in Charity Sunday. Normally this monthly event would be scheduled for next weekend, the last Sunday in December. However, yesterday I received an email from KIND – Kids In Need of Defense.


KIND logo

KIND has a very specific mission, which is to support unaccompanied migrant children trying to settle in the U.S. Both circumstances and legal constraints can tear migrant kids away from their parents, leaving them alone and defenseless at the borders. KIND provides both personal aid and legal assistance, helping these youngsters navigate the complications of immigration law and ideally, to reunite with their parents or guardians. The organization also advocates in legislatures and courts to promote sustainable, humane immigration policy, and works with origin countries to address the root causes that cause people to leave their homes.

I’ve been contributing to KIND for a couple of years now, mostly through Charity Sundays. On Friday I got an email informing me about a limited time opportunity. Between now and January 31st, all donations to KIND, up to a maximum of $350,000, will be subject to a 4X match by an anonymous donor. So I moved this event a week earlier, in order to collect the largest number of comments.

As usual, I will donate two dollars for every comment I receive on this post. So KIND will receive ten dollars total for each.

Talk about a Christmas gift!

Meanwhile, to thank you for your time and effort, I have an excerpt from my holiday short story Slush. Enjoy!


Slush book cover


Hot shot Boston lawyer Ian Pierce has everything but peace of mind. Christmas Eve finds him alone, wading through the slush to his BMW so he can drive back to his lonely luxury apartment. Then everything goes black. He awakens with an aching skull to find himself in a freezing, boarded-up garage occupied by a street kid. At first he blames the dodgy-looking youth for his troubles, but before long he realizes the raggedy girl who rescued him from the gutter may well be a Christmas angel in disguise.


The oratorio should have soothed him. Instead he just felt angry – at Lily, at the fat guy beside him who kept elbowing him in the ribs, at the prospect of waking up alone on Christmas morning. Before the choir took its bows he’d slipped out, eager to avoid the chattering, festive crowd.

He’d emerged to discover the snow had turned to sleet, icy and treacherous. The streets were already slick. Chill, gray slush was all that remained of the lovely snow. Perfect, he thought. Just right for the way I feel.

It was hard to walk, hard to see. He’d been stewing in the poison of his dissatisfaction. He should have been more aware of his environment, but he’d been contemplating the stale comforts of his luxury condo: a hot shower and a double whiskey.

He had his car key out, he remembered, had just been about to disable the alarm when the pain exploded and everything went dark.

His car!

You say you found me near a fancy car? A silver Beemer?”

The kid pulled off his mittens to warm his fingers over the flames. “Sorry – I wouldn’t know. I really didn’t notice. I was busy trying to get you into my cart.”

Ian patted the pockets of his fleece-lined leather coat, then shrugged it off his shoulders. Finally the place was starting to warm up. “Did you find my keys?” He rifled the pockets of his soaked trousers, with increasing urgency as he discovered every one was empty. “Where’s my phone? My wallet?”

The youth looked up, face rosy from the fire. “The muggers probably took ‘em. Anyone can see you’ve got plenty of dough.”

Panic seized Ian by the throat. His iPhone, his Cartier watch, his Hermes wallet, all gone. No money. No credit cards. No way to communicate with the outside world. “How – how do I know you didn’t steal them?” He lunged toward the figure near the fire, sure he could shake his belongings out of those rags.

That stare, stripping him to the bone. That laugh again, like a crystal bell ringing in the cramped, stuffy ex-garage. “Come on! If it was me who ripped you off, why would I bring you back to my place?”

Drained by his sudden exertion, Ian collapsed back onto the lumpy mattress. “Ah – um – of course you’re right. Sorry. Thank you. I do appreciate your help, really I do. I’m just tired, and disoriented, and so thirsty...”

The kid retrieved a chipped mug from one of the crates piled up against the wall, filled it from a spigot above them, and handed it to Ian. “Here you go.”

Ian sniffed at the liquid before he took a sip. It smelled a bit musty, but he needed it too badly to care.

I managed to score some aspirin today, too. Think you could use it more than me.”

His host popped two white tablets into Ian’s palm. He peered down at them, dazed.

By Jesus! You think I’m gonna poison you?”

No, no, of course not.” He washed the medicine down with more of the water. Somehow he felt better already. “You’re very kind.”

The young man shrugged once more. “Anyone would do the same.”

Not me. If I saw you lying in the gutter, I wouldn’t look twice.

The thought gave him more pain than the throbbing lump at the back of his head. Was it really true?

Lie down. Rest. You hungry?”

Ian interrogated his battered body. “Um – no, I don’t think so.”

Well I am. Gotta get out of some of these clothes first, though. It’s getting pretty toasty in here.”

The kid yanked off his woolen cap. Ian gasped as masses of fine golden hair spilled down over those narrow shoulders.

You – you’re a woman!”

Yeah – you didn’t know?” Her peals of laughter made him blush with embarrassment. Rage simmered underneath. No doubt she thought him a fool. It was so obvious now – the slender body swaddled in second hand sweaters, the little hands, the delicate features and fair complexion... But who would have expected to find such a pretty girl in a place like this?

Please, don’t forget to leave a comment! And if any other authors have signed up for the Charity Sunday blog hop, I hope you’ll visit their pages as well. (Given the last minute organization, I might be alone. But my fellow authors may well turn out to be Christmas angels, too!)

Saturday, December 23, 2023

Join us for Charity Saturday, on Christmas Eve! #CharitySundaySignup #Altruism #Marketing

Frost on red fruit

Image by Frauke Riether from Pixabay

Normally I do my Charity Sundays on the last Sunday of each month. However I just got a notice from one of the charities I support, informing me that they have a 4x match challenge for all contributions they receive before the 31st of December.

So I’m doing Charity Sunday a week early - tomorrow! - to give me time to collect comments and make the biggest donation possible. As it happens, the specific charity involved is very appropriate for Christmas.

Charity Sunday is a meme designed to give authors and bloggers a chance to give back to the world—as well as, hopefully, to attract new readers.

How does it work? Each participant selects a favorite charity. Before
the date, you should prepare a blog post that: 1) talks about the charity and why you support it; 2) provides a link to the charity; 3) includes an excerpt from one of your books; 4) includes the code to show links to other participating blogs.

It’s fun if you can make the excerpt relate somehow to your chosen charity, but this isn’t required.

For every comment left on your post, you commit to giving some amount to the relevant charity. The specific charity and the amount to donate are up to you. You can set an upper limit to your donation if you want.

If you’d like to participate in the next Charity Sunday
on November 26th, just sign up using the Linky List below. Please be sure that the link you enter will lead directly to your Charity Sunday post, not just to the home page of your blog.

You can download the Charity Sunday banner from here:  I will be creating a brand new banner for 2024!

For an example
post, check out this link from my last Charity Sunday:

Thank you for participating! Come back tomorrow to leave comments that turn into donations!

Friday, December 22, 2023

The Genesis of Essie – #NewAdultFantasy #Bureaucracy #Giveaway

River Against the Sea tour banner

By Z. Lindsey (Guest Blogger)

In an interview, Stan Lee said many of his most famous characters started with just one word! If this is to be believed, Stan Lee and others at Marvel sat down together and said, “Let’s make an angry character,” and came up with something as iconic as the Hulk.

I’ve been really happy with the reaction to the main character of my debut book. In general, people seem to resonate with her before even having read the book, and a few beta readers have read the manuscript more than once for the fun of spending time with her. I think part of the reaction has been the simplicity at her core. My wife created the character around a simple joke: a devil bureaucrat. In Mexico where we live, the bureaucratic system can be rather Kafkaesque, and in one indigenous hand-printed book by Alfonso Garcia Téllez, Purgatory is surprisingly similar to traffic court. So the idea of a bureaucrat who is a literal devil (or the fantasy equivalent) has a certain logic.

After she came up with this joke, she considered playing a similar character in a Dungeons and Dragons game that never came to fruition. Part of the reason we never played the game is because my wife got pregnant. In the months after she gave birth, we learned that our daughter did not appreciate sleep as much as we did. Every time we’d put on a TV after she went to bed, she’d wake up. So I started telling my wife stories about the devil bureaucrat, because I could speak quietly enough to not wake up our daughter. I named her Essimore Darkenchyl because it sounds dramatic and devilish, but also because my wife is a huge fan of nail art and the nickname for Essimore is Essie.

Essie’s a recent college graduate who is stubborn and expects to do her job perfectly right from the outset, both traits she will eventually be forced to discard to some degree. (Although her stubbornness is also a strength.) One early reader said Essie should be sassier, which my Puerto RIcan wife found a bit offensive. Just because she’s based on a Latina doesn’t mean she needs sass. Ironically, my wife got more than a little sassy about her desire for Essie to lack sass.

While Essie may have one hand firmly affixed to her hip from time to time, I don’t think she’s sassy. She’s witty, sometimes, and she’s got a great sense of wanderlust to her. But at her heart, she’s a geek, and about eighty percent of the things she says involve putting her foot in her mouth. (On the other hand, she really makes the other twenty percent count.)

She’s aware that humans find her weird, and sometimes exploits that but at other times is overwhelmed by it. I feel like this makes her more realistic and relatable. Sometimes we say the perfect thing for a situation, but sometimes we flub. The thing that makes her special, though, is that no matter how overwhelmed she is, she always keeps going forward. She does her best to avoid backing down from a problem, whether she’s tricking pirates or using her latent magic to zap a monster in the face. But at the heart of the character are two words: devil bureaucrat. Hopefully that makes her half as iconic as a Stan Lee character.


Some heroes have swords. Essimore Darkenchyl has a pen. But it’s a magic pen.

Some wizards have spellbooks. Essie has Gossen’s Guide to Shipping Law. But it’s a current edition.

Some sailors have . . . experience. Essie has a new diploma and a year-long contract, and her people have won wars with less.

And that’s good, because between stolen weapons, a coup, and a strange disease creeping in around her and the crew, she might need to win a war.

In a world that blends traditional fantasy with the Age of Exploration, Essie knows a pen is mightier than a sword, especially since hers sometimes shoots lightning.

But what she thinks is a routine political dispute turns out to be something much, much more, and she may have finally met the one problem she can’t talk her way out of.

The River Against the Sea book cover


Essie cleared her throat. From her backpack, she removed the letter of service that granted her travel permission to sail on the ship. It was folded neatly into thirds, with a glittering blue wax seal on it.

Essimore Darkenchyl at your service, sir. I’m your new fully licensed shipping coordinator with Power of the Pen. It’s an honor to be aboard.”

The captain took the letter without opening it, folded it in half with no regard for the beautiful wax seal, folded it messily again, and jammed it into his pocket. The whole time, Essie winced.

Right-o.” As he smiled, the older man’s cheeks dimpled and his white teeth shined in the sun. “Well, I thought we were leaving without you, but here you are. Good on you. Great. Yeah.” The captain turned to the teenager at his side. “Grab her bag and get her stuff to her room. She can hang out there til dinner.”

As the teenager shouldered her bag and grunted, she and the captain looked at each other, the captain with his beaming smile. Once the teenager left, she said, “Thanks for welcoming me onto your ship.”

Yeah. Fully licensed, you say?”


Okay. Have a nice one. See you at dinner.”

Don’t we need to . . . uh . . . onboard?”

You’re already on board. You managed that just fine.”

But . . . signing things. Paperwork. Reviewing the staff log. Staff log, sir!”

The captain’s smile faded, but reappeared so fast she wasn’t sure if she’d seen it go.

Okay, fine. Let’s talk in my cabin.”

About the Author

Zac Lindsey is an anthropologist and a linguist who focuses on the Maya people of Quintana Roo. Since childhood, he's had a not-so-secret love of weird, silly, and well-structured fantasy. When other people's parents were reading them picture books, his mom was reading him Terry Brooks. He typically writes hopeful and character-driven fantasy.

Today, he lives in Quintana Roo, Mexico with his wife, daughter, and various stray cats.



Amazon preorders (for ebook):

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Z. Lindsey will be awarding a $20 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Wednesday, December 20, 2023

Something about those eyes... #HolidayRomance #LaterInLife #MFRWHooks

Cherry Pie and Misteltoe book cover

Happy Wednesday! For today’s Book Hooks hop, I’ve got a snippet from Cherry Pie and Mistletoe, a later-in-life holiday romance set in lonely diner, just off the Interstate. In fact there is an Algonquin Diner off I-84, in the rural reaches of central Connecticut, a throwback to an earlier, simpler time. The first time I saw it, I thought it belonged in a story.

The Hook

Hey! Anybody here?”

I was back in the kitchen, scraping a week of congealed crud off the griddle, when he came into the diner. We hadn’t had a customer since four p.m. and I’d figured I should do something useful with my time. At ten thirty on a stormy Christmas Eve, I really didn’t expect any business, but our sign out on I-84 reads “open until midnight”, and I’m a woman of my word.

I peered through the order window. A stocky figure shrouded in a green parka stood by the counter, stomping his feet and rubbing his bare hands together.

He must have noticed me, because he flipped back his hood and flashed a grin in the general direction of the kitchen. “What’s a freezing guy gotta do to get a hot cup of coffee around here?” He looked more amused than annoyed.

Sorry—I’ll be right out.” I wiped my filthy hands on my apron and checked the little mirror Hank had installed over the prep table. White hair had escaped from the thick plait hanging down my back, making a fuzzy halo around my face, but overall I didn’t look too disheveled. I smoothed the wrinkles out of my Algonquin Diner shirt and limped through the swinging doors.

“’Evening! Sorry, I’m alone here tonight.”

He nodded, his smile lighting his whole face. “I’m just grateful you’re open. It’s colder than a witch’s tit out there.”

Coffee, you said?”

Black, please.”

Close up, I could see he was older than I’d expected from his energetic manner—almost my age, I guessed. Abundant gray frosted his wavy brown hair, deep lines framed his mouth and pepper-and-salt stubble darkened his weathered cheeks. His eyes, though, belonged to a much younger man. They glowed chocolate-brown, shot through with hints of gold, reflecting and amplifying the warmth of his smile.

Something about those eyes—something about this man—made me think of summer, of summers long ago in fact. Sunlight sparkling on the lake, dappled green shade on fragrant grass, the aching sweetness of skin against bare skin…

Working on automatic, I poured dark, steaming liquid from the carafe into a mug, grabbed a teaspoon and set both down on the Formica surface in front of him. He’d shrugged off his jacket and scarf. Underneath he wore faded jeans and a plaid flannel shirt open at the throat. I caught a glimpse of tangled gray chest hair. He was not fat, just solidly built, burly, bear-like—exactly the sort of body you’d want to curl up with on a cold winter night.


When he leaned closer to examine my name tag, I caught an unexpected whiff of his aftershave. Old Spice, my dad’s favorite, once more swinging me back into the past. Nostalgia tightened my chest. Tinsel garlanding my hair, mistletoe an excuse for excess, blizzards spent in bed. Lovers’ faces—lovers’ flesh—Christmases past, warmed by feverish kisses and the wild joy of discovery.

I brushed my hair away from my face, as if I could sweep my mind of the memories, and tried to regain my composure.

You’re very welcome. What’s it doing out there?” Condensation fogged the diner windows, reflecting rainbows from the little plastic tree in the corner but blocking out any glimpse of the weather.

Connecticut special,” he answered with a chuckle. “Sleet and freezing rain. The temperature’s dropping, though. Radio says there’ll be snow later.”

Driving must be hellish.” I scrubbed a towel back and forth across the already spotless counter, needing to do something with my hands. What I really wanted was to comb my fingers through that lovely, silver-threaded hair. “You are driving, right?”

Another laugh, rounded and full, coming from deep in his chest. “Yup, that’s my eighteen wheeler out there, taking up your whole parking lot.”

I grinned. His good nature was contagious. “Well, I don’t think you’ll have much competition. You want anything to eat, by the way? Tonight I’m the cook as well as the server.”

Buy Links

Kinky Literature

Amazon US

Amazon UK


Barnes and Noble


Add on Goodreads: 

Be sure to visit the other authors participating in today's Book Hooks!

Tuesday, December 19, 2023

Review Tuesday: Trevor's Redemption by Amber Daulton -- #RomanticSuspense #CriminalOrganization #ReviewTuesday

Trevor's Redempton book cover

Trevor’s Redemption by Amber Daulton

Daulton Publishing, 2023

How can love survive without honesty?

Shea O’Bannon broke off a budding romance with musician Trevor Madero when she caught him in a steamy clinch with another woman, but she has never really gotten him out of her system. When she encounters him again, at a club where he’s performing, she is drawn to him more strongly than ever. Though Trevor has a reputation as a ladies’ man, he swears the scene Shea observed was not his choice, that the woman (the brassy, bossy wife of a corrupt district attorney) more or less forced herself on him. After he defends Shea against the unwelcome advances of a slimy colleague from her job, she starts to believe Trevor is sincere and lets down her guard. Both physically and emotionally, the couple seems perfectly matched, but Shea senses her lover is hiding something important.

Through no fault of his own, Trevor owes his soul to a criminal organization. He tries to assuage his conscience, delivering drugs to dealers and collecting revenues but not selling directly to users, but that’s a near-impossible line to tread. Now that he’s back together with Shea, he needs to work harder than ever to hide his illicit activities – for her own safety as well as to avoid her negative judgments. But Shea’s too smart to accept his lies. She knows only too well, from her own family history and that of her friends, how criminal associations can poison the ordinary joys of living. Cutting Trevor out of her life is the most painful thing she’s ever done, but she’s certain that if she can’t trust her lover to tell her the truth, she’s better off without him.

Trevor’s Redemption is part of Amber Daulton’s Arresting Onyx series; Onyx is a shadowy, powerful criminal syndicate that has its claws in characters in each book of the series. Though I hadn’t read the previous books, I didn’t find it difficult to follow this one, except at one point when the author pulled in all the heroines from the previous books (who are Shea’s close friends). At that point, I was deluged by references to events in the earlier installments, which I must admit didn’t make much sense.

In any case, that was a minor distraction. The main focus of Trevor’s Redemption is, as one would expect from a romance, the relationship between Shea and Trevor. Ms. Daulton does a wonderful job portraying their intense mutual attraction as well as their affection and concern for one another. Her love scenes are incendiary. The action scenes are almost as good, as Shea and Trevor each take extreme risks to protect the other.

The book offers an unexpected twist at the end which I found surprisingly satisfying. I won’t say more, except to note that this ending provides a resolution to the nearly impossible problem of Trevor’s obligations to the syndicate.

Trevor’s double life, on the other hand, seemed rather implausible from the start. I don’t think it would really be feasible for someone to work part-time as a mob enforcer and part-time doing construction – with time off to perform as a musician. The plot of Trevor’s Redemption requires that the reader believe this scenario. It took some effort for me to suspend my disbelief.

Overall, however, I enjoyed Trevor’s Redemption. Both hero and heroine are adults who understand, from experience, the complex challenges involved in a relationship. In the real world, love does not conquer all. Shea and Trevor don’t expect that their path will be smooth.

Of course this is romance, not the real world. So despite their concerns, they end up with a happy ending.

Monday, December 18, 2023

The Splendificent Christmas Collection – #UrbanFantasy #Erotic #Humor

Splendificent Christmas Collection cover

Today I’m featuring the outrageous, hilarious boxed set of Christmas tales by the irrepressible Dacy Alex. Not politically correct, not tasteful, but so much fun!

It’s always better to be naughty than nice

In this hilarious yet wickedly raw collection of Christmas tales, the supernatural co-eds of the Hot Squad learn the true meaning of the holiday: getting all you can get while the getting’s good!

Oh Come All Ye Lustful

Giselle Nyfall, an average college student with above-average-sized boobs and a truly monumental propensity for destruction, offers herself as a holiday feast for a particular Prince Charming. Somehow the bumbling babe triggers a holiday curse that turns her Romeo into a monster uglier than a Christmas sweater.

Santa Claus is Going to Town

Seduced by the promise of a special holiday present, high-elf Princess Tristabelle finds herself kidnapped by Santa's dirty-minded elven minions. When trash-talking Daddy Santa himself takes an interest in the leggy bimbo’s Christmas cookie, it’s up to her dysfunctional but magically endowed royal siblings to rescue the damsel in tinsel.

Demons We Have Heard on High

Down in the fiery pits of Hell, Satan’s scheme to rid Earth of the Christmas spirit ravages one Midwestern college town and overtaxes Hell’s social services system. At his wit’s end, Lucifer sends his granddaughter, half-succubus/half-vampire Fleur Flannagan, to save the town and Christmas. Faced with a plague of homicidal teddy bears, a jealous but well-hung African demi-god, and assorted other sex-crazed, Christmas-hating heathens, luscious demonness Fleur feels right at home.

Grab your eggnog and settle in for a long winter’s night or two with the bodacious babes of the Hot Squad. They know how to put the X in Xmas!

Excerpt from “Demons We Have Heard on High”

The chant of the heads hung from the glittery pink Christmas tree, “Becky, Becky, Becky, Christmas Eve, Becky, Becky, Becky, Christmas morning.”

Doesn’t it sound nice? Jason,” a chilly female voice asked.

The owner of such frosty words appeared from behind the tree, head on a hook in hand.

She stood taller than Fleur and was almost as gorgeous. Her blond hair flowed nearly to her waist, her blue eyes were deep and dark as opposed to Fleur’s faint and pale ones, her breasts were modest though barely hidden behind a red sequined gown. That gown stretched only past her sex, showing off leggy goodness.

Her lips were thin, the opposite of Fleur’s full red ones.


Baby, that’s Lady R!” A bugabear with a Santa hat and silver chains around his neck spoke. “Don’t go violating the Christmas rules, baby.”

Buggy,” Fleur stated flatly.

The vampire-demon chick? Baby, it’s great to meet you. We got a fine selection of humans on offer. Let’s do dinner, baby.”

Becky, what’s going on?” Jason shouted, his knees buckling.

Couldn’t I ask you the same thing? I killed you, and you’re talking to me.”

You…you….killed me?”

I really am sorry, Jace, but you weren’t using your witch powers anyway. Total waste if you ask me.”

How did….how did you know I was a witch?”

Someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on?” Fleur barked, her haunting eyes meeting Becky’s lively ones.

Baby, baby, there’s no need to get upset. It’s Christmas!” Buggy explained as he poured himself a glass of eggnog mixed with blood.

Hey, Smokey the Cocksucker, you were supposed to erase the Christmas spirit. Instead, all you did was twist it to meet your own needs. You work for Satan, not Hallmark.”

Baby, you know how it goes. I got a better offer.”

Who gave you a better offer than the King of the Christian underworld?”

That would be me. Lady Rebecca, necromancer.”

Now Jason’s knees gave out. He collapsed on his fire extinguisher, “Why? Why? WHY, BECKY, WHY?”

Because I am sick of playing the good girl role for my good guy Jesus freak boyfriend! I am a necromancer, I raise the dead, I deserve some praise for that, don’t I? Why do I have to sit on the sidelines and root for my going nowhere, future-insurance-salesman boyfriend? I deserve the spotlight! I deserve so much more than to be the girlfriend of a quarterback that no one will remember after the season! I am way out of your league, Jason. Way out.”

Me and this necro chick met at the same Leyline coincidentally,” Buggy passed Fleur a glass of bloodnog. “I told her what I needed the Leyline for, and she said she had a better idea, she just needed my help to make it happen.”

So why did you kill him?” Fleur asked, pointing to Jason.

I needed a pure soul to corrupt the Leyline and spread the negative ether.”

You can do that?” Fleur was impressed despite herself.

I can do anything, even acting like I love some redneck meathead quarterback. I stabbed Jason in the back, literally. Instead of raising his body to zombie status, I took his soul and smeared it with shit, and sent it into the Leyline but with a necromancer flair.”

And that’s how he wound up in Hell. Still, Buggy, what do you get out of this?”

Didn’t you see, baby? We Bugabears are thriving and surviving out there, baby! Christmas is our time, baby, the bugabear time! Pretty soon, the whole world will be in the Christmas spirit. And you know what that means don’t you? Bugabears welcomed and loved everywhere in the world!”

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Paddington, but you’ve got zombies chowing down on humans, and your kind is butt fucking the fleet from Hertz Rental Car.”

We have some kinks to iron out,” Becky admitted, towering over Jason. “Ah, but maybe with Jason back to life…hhehehehe….would you like to help me, Jace? Jaceycakes?”

Shut up.” Fleur’s voice was clear and authoritative.

Jaceycakes, who is this woman?”

I’m Fleur Flannagan, princess of Hell, granddaughter of Satan, and you’re staring down a flaming revolver, so either take a walk or die.”

Jaceycakes?” Becky ran her fingers along the top of Jason’s head, “Did this woman bring you back to life? If she’s a princess of Hell I bet she can do that. And I wonder how you repaid her? Did you…fuck her? Oh no of course you didn’t. You’re saving that little thing for when WE get married. But we won’t be getting married, so I guess you’ll remain a virgin forever!”

The heads on the Christmas tree enjoyed a merry chuckle.

Becky, Becky, Becky…” Fleur chortled. “You show a scholar’s understanding of the finite artistry of being an obnoxious, average-at-best, six-in-the-face bitch. Now let me show you what we do to your kind in Hell.”

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