Chapter One: In Which A Demon Needs Help And A Hug

CW: Explicit language, dark roleplay,

Jasper

Boxes gnashed their teeth, daring to bite her fucking head off. With even more in the moving pod, Jasper was in over her horns and didn’t know where to start. Moving alone was hell, and she’d been there. No, like she’d lived in hell for most of her life. As a succubus and adviser to Duke of the Fourth Seal, she knew a little something about hell.
This was it.

Handling another taped and lopsided box, Jasper climbed the stairs. She stepped with caution, avoiding holes. Her new house was two hundred years old and a steal. Jasper wanted a home she could grow with and thanks to the success of her creative streak, life was better. Not great, but good.

“Could be worse,” she mumbled, entering the master. Or something like it. Unnamable substances stained tattered strips of wallpaper and the ceiling. “Well, fuck.” She dropped the box of Petite Pop figures and huffed. This was an impulse buy. She’d come up on a few dollars and lost her goddamn mind. With only ten years worth of top-side living under her belt, she still had much to learn. With no help from her father or mother, Jasper was on her own. She didn’t want to hump her way to the money like most of her siblings. Nah. She had her own plans and way of hoarding coins.

“And I’ve done well,” she admitted to a stuffy, dust-filled quiet. The master was nothing more than squealing floorboards, a queen-sized bed, and her ancient laptop. Windows with no drapes was ghetto, but they were boarded anyway.
“This was sooooo, stupid.” Taking it all in Jasper stomped her foot and yelped as her boot fractured what was left of creaking, rickety planks.
Splintered wood snagged and scratched her ankle. “This is fu-ow!” She yanked her poor foot loose and flailed, dropping on her ass. Jasper massaged torn skin and grunted.
“What the hell am I going to do?”

With a telling moisture on her butt, she sighed. This house was a shit hole. Falling apart at the literal seams. She gestured at a giant crack behind her headboard.
Spiderwebs and must. Mildew and broken pipes. She was about to breathe fire and raze the joint to the ground until a knock at the front door interrupted her bad decision.
Jasper sat, waiting for a second rap. She’d moved to Indigo Plains three days ago and didn’t know a soul in the rural town. Miles from the big, stank city, she had no friends.
A third knock got her up and limping downstairs. She’d heal quicker with a bite of raw sinewy flesh or a sip of male passion, buuuut she had neither at the moment.
From the vestibule, Jasper noted a smiling old, self-tanned lady.
Opening the door, Jasper grinned. “Hello.”

“Why look at you!” The elder beamed, holding a fine-looking roast. “It’s been a while since we done had demons ’round these parts. You are mighty tall, ma’am.”
“I get that a lot. What you got there?”
“Oh, this? It’s my famous rump roast. Jerry, my husband of forty years loves it and so do most folks in the neighborhood. Ask Maryanne and Bob Warring, down the way. They’ll tell ya.”
“I can smell the garlic, Ma’am.”
“No, noooo…call me Sissy. I ain’t been a Ma’am in many moons.”

Jasper laughed, casting her gaze about. It was a hot August afternoon with the heat making cicadas scream. Jasper didn’t have air conditioning and was certain the human woman might faint, Warm for Jasper meant unbearable for a human. Ominous odors and humidity were a bad sign as well.

“I’d invite you inside,” Jasper said, “but this place isn’t so welcoming at the moment.”
Sissy waved a jewelry-adorned hand, her bracelets clanging and glinting in the midday sun. “It’s alright. I can smell the mold. I’d rather not anyhow. I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood with a hot meal.”
“You are so kind,” Jasper accepted the heavy ceramic dish and said,“I’ll be sure to give this back.”
The woman wagged a papery finger. “I’ll come uh looking for it. Don’t you worry.”
“Thank you again.”

Sissy giggled and left with the twirl of her tie-dye skirt. She was an adorable elder with pink hair and pure intentions. Her emotions tasted sweet, akin to butterscotch. Jasper snickered, remembering she was probably a hundred years older. With the hot offering in hand, she kicked the door closed and dined in what was considered a kitchen. It was missing a stove and cabinet doors, but it might be nice one day. Jasper stood where the breakfast nook would be and impaled bits with a plastic fork. She attacked steaming beef, carrots, baby reds, and caramelized onions. After a decent burp, she popped open a hot beer and guzzled every ounce.

“That was amazing.” Belly full to bursting she was ready to take on the task at hand. “I have no fucking idea what to do.” She kicked a box of Tupperware and groaned. “Guess I’ll buy some tools and watch DIY videos.”


Nieema

Nieema hated working at the hardware store. It wasn’t fun and it smelled like sawdust. Granted, they cut and sanded wood in-store…for free. Stocking shelves with nails, bits, and such wasn’t her idea of a good time, but it was only fair. Keeping to it, she stacked tubes of caulk into a caddy and bobbed her head to an oldie. She set the playlist and be damned if anybody changed it. For the hundredth time, she’d told them not to touch her music. god forbid she say it again.

“Can I get some help around here?!”
Nieema winced and rounded the stack with her hands full. “Do you need help, sir?”

“You god damn right I do. I come looking for a new chainsaw. What row are they in?”
The man flicked his filthy cowboy hat and spat. He flashed gold fangs and snapped his gum. He was a cruel-looking fella, and Nieema cleared her throat.
“They’re uhm—“
“Speak up, shit.”
“Isle three.”
“You one of them Porter gals? I heard about y’all.”
“No, no. I’m not.“

The burly man made off down the row and Nieema hustled behind the counter. Their store wasn’t too big, with only ten aisles, but some folks got lost.

“The—“
“Where the fuck is it?“
“On the back wall.“
He cursed, finding the high-power chainsaws. Nieema didn’t want to know what a man like him would do with the tool. He was a fae of some make, but she was unsure which. His dark eyes and claws didn’t say much

As he stalked toward her, Nieema swallowed and tried not to stutter, it was tough.
He slammed the chainsaw on pockmarked pine that was older than her and spat again.

“How much I owe ya?”
Nieema brushed sweat from her upper lip and glanced at the tag. “Two hundred and—“
“Two what?! Two hundred dollars? Ohhh, what game are you running in here? Are you tryna scam me, darlin’?”
“No! No, I would never.“
With a death glare pinned on her, he squinted. “I got fifty-seven dollars in my pocket. You can take that, or…I can pay in other ways.”
Nieema gasped, her heart daring to claw its way through her chest. She searched for an escape as he rounded the long counter. “Wai—“
“I don’t like no women trying to steal from me. Just cause I’m an honest hardworking man don’t mean I’m dumb.”
“I did—‘
“Shut your mouth!”

Nieema planted both hands on the wall and prayed to the gods. His obsidian gaze flickered with fire and life, he was of the dark fae for certain.

“You’ll take the fifty and I’ll take something from you—“
A single, sharp talon grazed her cheek. He loomed, smelling of sweat, mint, and a cherry-scented smoke. Her throat closed and body quaked.
The bell sounded and Nieema pinched his nipple. Mister Fussy hissed and laughed.

“Ain’t shit funny,” Nieema whispered. “Clean that spit up off my floor or so help me, Buck, I’ll break your behind.”
“You had your chance, darlin’. And I made it easy.” Buck popped his gum, cracked his back, and lept over the counter.
“You hush, I wasn’t giving in so easily.”
“You were sweatin’, I got you on camera.” He pointed at the ball on the ceiling and tried on a wolfish grin. “We’ll play it back during them wee hours and see just how fast you fold.”
Nieema cackled and tended to their customer. Well wasn’t this a sight. A demon, of the red sort. It was safe to say, they were a succubus. Horns and all. She had to be about six-foot and hard bodied.
“Suck my toes, mama. She is rather fine.”
“Would you cut it,” Nieema snipped. “She looks lost.”
“We can help her find any and everything..“
“Did you clean your mess, Buck?”
“Not yet bu—“
“Get to it, old man. I am not playing with you.”
“Don’t pester me, vampire. I’ll give it to you good.”
Nieema winked and patted Buck’s arm. “I can only hope.”

With her freaky deaky husband occupied, Nieema sidled up to the succubus and smiled.
“You need help finding something, suga?”
“Hell yeah..” The tall woman slouched and shrugged. Her voice was rough and sultry. As if she had dragon fire caught in her throat. “I watched videos about paint, floors, mold, pests, and corroded pipes. I don’t even know how to hang a frame. Installing a stove is beyond me. I just bought the house on Weaver Avenue and I’m outta my element. I thought a fixer might be a cute learning experience. I was wrong. The house is shit.“
“Whoa, haaay.” Nieema went to soothe her through touch and stopped herself. Not everyone was tactile, and succubi had a specific way of feeding. “It’s alright. You’re okay. Listen, I come from a long line of contractors. My mama and daddy damn near built this town. If you’d like, I can help.”
“Me too!” Buck said, tossing the broom. “Hello, there, I am Buck Sunside, and this is my lovely daisy of a bride, Nieema. It just so happens we own a contracting firm, the only one in all of Indigo Plains.”

The woman slapped her wide chest and smiled. Her teeth dazzled. Needly as a pin and long. Nieema touched her neck and batted lashes. The towering succubus was a looker, and Buck knew it, too. He was staring hard enough.
They were on the same page. After one-hundred-plus years of marriage and seven kids, they were open to pretty much anything.

“I’m so sorry honey,” Nieema said. “What’d you say your name was?”
“Jasper.”
“How progressive.”
“I thought it was adorable. Everybody says I look like a Jasper.”
“They were right,” Buck added. “So, if you’d like, we can come on by. Take a look around and see what the damage is?”
“Uh, I don’t know.” Jasper grimaced, fiddling with a tangled mess of glittering gold chains. “I heard quotes are expensive.“
“On the house,” Nieema blurted. “Listen here, anyone who moves to Indigo Plains and lays roots is my kinda people. If you’re serious about making this your home, then we are here to help.”
Buck nodded in agreement. “Yup. We don’t need the money with the new mall opening and such. All hands on deck, as they say, we all you got for now.”
“I’m nobody to refuse help.” Jasper shook a box of nails and said, “When can you stop by?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Oh shit, that’d be great. I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“It’s a good thing you walked into our store, Jasper.”
The succubus smiled and placed the box casting nails back on the shelf. “Thanks. It was nice meeting you, Mr and Mrs Sunsde Have a good night.”

Combat boots and a sundress. It was a deadly combination and Nieema knew well what women like that had to offer. Her calves were large and striking. Buck sniffed and Nieema hummed.

“She’ll be in our bed by next Monday.”
Nieema tweaked a brow and craned her neck. Buck was a god amongst man and smiled like he knew. “She’ll be at my feet long before she sits on your crotchety lap, Mista.”
“Oh woman, you underestimate me!”
“She’s young,” Nieema said, shoving Buck aside. “I can smell it.”
“I’d say a century or two.”
“Hm. That’s why you lookin’ crazy, old fool.”
“My heart and soul belong to you, Mrs Sunside. My dick, however—“

Nieema pounced on her man, locking arms and legs around him. He rumbled with mirth as their lips met. Nieema used her mental will to lock the door. They’d be closed for the next fifteen to twenty minutes.

Midnight Rooms By Donyae Coles

This! This and this! Midnight Rooms almost feels like a deconstruction of the Gothic genre and I for one lovvvved it! As we all know, I adore horror and all things creepy. The blurb for MIdnight Rooms grabbed me by the neck. From the first few lines I knew I’d devour this novel, and I did just that. Eleven hours, with a full-time work schedule. I tore it up!

Midnight Rooms follows Orebella, a young woman who is married and whisked away by a rich gentleman named Elias Blakersby. She is tossed into a world of mold, ruin, and the unwell. We witness Orebella spiral as she takes to her new life as wife and Lady of Korringhill Manor.

This is a dark gothic romance, and heavy on the DARK. Some have stated they’d consider some aspects extreme horror. I would not because I have read EH a few times. If I had to rate the horror in this book I’d give it two skulls for unsettling depictions of gore, blood, and one scene of grotesque violence. I loved Midnight Rooms for its supernatural atmosphere, creepy family ties, and secrets. Are all those secrets exposed? No, But I think the most important ones are given enough airtime. This mystique adds to the world Donyae crafted and expands it.

She put her foot in it! As black folks would say, mainly about food, but hear me out, it works here too. Thanks to the author’s attention to detail, I was fully immersed and invested. Midnight Rooms had me smacking my lips, glaring, and cussing.

As I have said this is a dark romance, if you aren’t acquainted with said genre, i do not read this book, please. Midnight Rooms deserves more than, “not my cup of tea”. Dark romance is just that. Elias and Orebella are rough, tumble, sharp, and a subplot. But, as a romance girlie too, I enjoyed it. As with most things in this lovely, horrifying fairy tale show. I felt mildew and mold on my skin, I inhaled tallow and was scared for poor Orebella most of the time.

If you like your Gothic read rotting from the inside out, by all means, give Midnight Rooms a chance. Please, this book deserves more readers. It is incredibly important to support Black authors who write horror, as our piece is so very small in this world. We need more support for scifi, paranormal, and horror writers to be honest. Our voices belong in every genre.

CW: Blood, gore, dubious consent, assault by others than the MMC, violence, possible incest, murder, drugging, and cannibalism

What To Expect From Patchwork and Pitchforks

Set in the fictional town of Indigo Plains, Patchwork and Pitchforks is a paranormal romance serial with splashes of adventure, horror, and mystery. The main couple and cast will encounter strange happenings in the rural town. Magic and mayhem will ensue but just know, romance is the plot. Please do not misunderstand, I write romance. Kissyface and smashing will be the bread and butter of my stories. I love love, intimacy and smut. You will get all of that and more.

You may find throughout this serial supporting characters get some air-time. Yes, there will be sidequests! I love them, I’m so sorrrry. Serials are about ensembles, right? Can’t say who will get what and when, but I will read comments on this.

I am a planster. I know the characters and the setting, that’s it. I will give ocntent warnings as I go.

I know a few straightaway and they are:

Patchwork and Pitchforks

Be prepared for fluff, steam, romance, and paranormal happenings!

After Jasper Marrow relocates to Indigo Plains she’s prepared for paint, hammers, and broken nails. What she finds on moving day is more than she cares to deal with. Busted pipes, growing mold, and an eager-to-please married couple offer too much excitement for one night.

All Jasper wants is her new-ish house fixed and perhaps exorcised. When the happy duo extends a helping hand and free temporary housing, she has no choice but to accept.

This isn’t close to what I normally write, but I wanted something cute on Whitney Houston’s internet. I’ve been trying to do light and fluffy for months. And I don’t know, I thought why not put it out there.

Juniper On Super Earth 515

Daily writing prompt
Describe your life in an alternate universe.

I’m mad. Absolutely unhinged. A warlock of some sort. Not a simple witch. No. I am a deranged master of a brownstone in North Chicago. I own a shop where I hawk experimental potions and spells. I have a dog. Perhaps a Corgi hellhound mix. I spend days thinking of ways to irritate my lovely spouses. She, is an extroverted barista who can’t make a good espresso to save her life and he, is a cat groomer who is allergic to cats. I am happy, fat, and spirited!

You Can & You Will

Five months ago, I set out to write a shorter novel and have done it! Brevity, as I’ve stated before, is my weakness. I am a long writer who enjoys 100k+ word counts. I am not apologizing for that. I still prefer them, but I wanted to challenge myself. I wanted to put my ass through it. I needed this exercise. It was a great lesson. Now, my shortest book is 43k not, 91k. I went in with a 15k goal. Clearly, I was off by a couple thousand. Lol. But, I still set out to accomplish this thing. This goal I made for reasons other than to prove to myself I could do it. For those like me, writing short stories is unfamiliar and hard. Cutting details and world-building down to a chapter or two is not fun.

My typical genre is paranormal romance and urban fantasy. Those books are known to be longer but in the world of indie, standards such as word counts do not exist. We can write a 30k hard fantasy if we want. We can write a 20k hard sci-fi epic if we so please. My point is, the industry standard is no longer my goal post, however, I will STILL prefer longer novels for paranormal romance but that doesn’t mean I won’t write shorter ones. It’s difficult, not impossible,

If you’ve set a personal goal, and it seems unreachable, REACH FOR IT! You can do this thing! I doubted myself for a long time. Said I could never write a shorter novel, it was too hard. Well, I did it and I pushed through until typing ‘The End’. Believe in yourself and whatever it is you want to achieve, I promise it’s worth the work.

“From my point of view, your life is already a miracle of chance waiting for you to shape its destiny.” ~ Toni Morrison

Silver in the Wood

This book wrapped me up in a warm hug and fed me snacks. I found Silver in the Wood to be a comforting read. I loved it. I adored it. Will rec often. Keep in mind, if you want spice, steam, and heat, you will get nothing. That’s not what this sweet-pea romance is about. I’m someone who💗LOVES💗 spice, smut, and erotica, but I don’t NEED it.

Steam is not a requirement for me. Character development and story matter here. If a romance is closed door or light with glimpses and kisses, fine, but the story had better come together.

Silver in the wood did just that.

There was life in this book and much of it. I thoroughly enjoyed the lore and world-building. I’m sooooooo excited to read the next book. It’s on hold at the moment so I’m counting the days!

Black Love & Vampires

This is my first read by Nikki Clarke and I was pleasantly surprised. Not only did the steam deliver, but the plot was meaningful. Now, keep in mind, I don’t read dark romance (much) I’m not sure if this counts, but tonally? It is an off-black. With past traumas and hell-on-earth flashbacks of their time as slaves, I thought it was dark and heavy. Which, is fine. I often write about the same subjects when talking about vampires. If, I am writing urban fantasy.

Though the topic may be hard to read for some, don’t let that stop you. This is a story of BLACK LOVE and I for one, loved the moments between Noah and Li were cute and sooooo spicy. They served the latter up quick and in a hurry. Coming in at sixty-ish pages, Taste is a shorty but packed with life and love. I adored it and would categorize it as Erotic Romance. Though my knowledge of the subgenre is loose, I read HELLA erotica shorts. I enjoyed the story of everlasting love and vampires. That is my shit! It’s my bread, butter, jam (i hate jelly), and peanut butter! These two gave me fangs and blood in equal doses!

But again, read them Content Warnings! Pleeeeease. There is on- page, blood, memories of murder, and attempted murder. Also, I’m on the fence about the consent. I think Taste is a solid dubcon. I don’t read books with that trope much but I’m sure it fits.

Horror and Heartstrings

I had a great time this month! And as you can see it’s a mishmash of romance and horror. Two genres I hold dear. I will say, the horror reads were fairly light, nothing too creepy or bleak.


Though, hold up, How to Sell a Haunted House?
Pupkin was a fucking menace and a horrible twisted thing. I know what he truly was but STILL, come onnnn, he was a maniac. He moved mean and did it because he wanted to, because the lil shit thought it was funny.
I woulda tossed his rabid and ratty ass in a WOODCHIPPER! Time to play! Fuck you! And don’t even get me started on the Juggernaut puppet. Holy hellscape, this book was more funny than scary. A bit unnerving if you hate dolls, puppets, and the like. Folks terrified of Slappy from Goosebumps might throw this book across the room and flee in terror.
As for me? It takes something more to rattle my bones. Eg. The Ritual, War of the Worlds, The Willows, and Kane Pixels Backrooms made my guts bubble. I didn’t wanna go to sleep after reading/watching that shit. I don’t want it on my brain, feeding sleep demons or whatever.
Because, you know, like a normal person, I love consuming horror media right before bed.
What a dimwitted badass!
Anyway, liminal space, alien invasion and folk horror give me absolute chills. Creature features, cursed/haunted objects and such, are a good time, I love reading them.
With that said, I rec most of the books here. If you love vampires and monsterfuckery then PLEASE, I implore you to devour Velvet Steel. And if you enjoy lighthearted alien romances, Contagion is delightful. Oh! And if mm is more your jam, The Stallion Ridge series is a fantasy western with spurs, saddles and heart. Give it a shot.