Chapter 2: In Which An Invitation Is Extended

Jasper

“Where is it? Wher—yes!” Jasper found her favorite scarf in a box titled ‘books’. There were books inside but also, non-book items. With a telling whimper, she scurried into the bathroom and tied the rainbow silk length tight. The bright, colorful theme continued all the way down to her boots.
Pink overalls made her hips pop. Jasper had no business trying to look put together. She was celibate! A sexless succubi was a thing of myth, but she was here to defy the odds. Sex, love, and companionship brought nothing but pain into her life.
Of course, when a handsome couple lusted after you it said something. She hadn’t lost her touch. Jasper still had what folks wanted. From the tips of her gold-tipped horns to the soles of her feet she was…she was…

Jasper stared at her reflection in a cruddy, broken mirror and sighed. She was still trying to find herself. Trying to recover tiny shards after a terrible ordeal.
A shrill ring and clatter made her flinch. Jasper rushed from the washroom and saw to her phone. She smiled at the photo and name.

“Kit?”
“Hay.”
“What’s up, lovebug?”
“I… well… Jasper, I quit!”
Her heart bloomed with warmth and hope. “Oh, my god. Kit you didn’t. Oh shit. You, when—quit?”
“Yeah, and Dad’s pretty mad. I—that would make two of us and well—he kicked me out.”

Jasper stopped dead and stared at her laptop. She had orders and shit to fulfill but holy hell, she was going through a lot. Tugging on her necklaces she nodded as Kit went on about their father’s lecture and anger. The Duke was mad and who cared. Not every demon belonged in hell. Not every demon knew how to harvest souls, make contracts, or even kill. Jasper didn’t and had never committed murder. Other demons treated her like a pariah.

“Okay, Kit?”
“Mhm?”
“You’re gonna stay with me. Of course. No questions asked.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to…”
Her brother mumbled as always, doubting his usefulness and station in her life.
“Yes! Now shut up and get over here. And hay—“
A heavy-handed knock had her jumping out of her skin.
“Just come right in, don’t knock. I’m having my house looked at. Don’t mind the mess and behave. Also, that fucking cat stays outsi—“
“He’s not a feral outside cat!”
“I don’t—“
A third knock put her in motion. “I gotta go. See you in a minute.”
“Kay. Bye.”

Jasper ended their call and jogged downstairs, forgetting about the warped wood. She slipped on the second to last step and stumbled into the vestibule. “Holy god damn.” She was a mess and in a hurry, it seemed. The Sunsides were attractive and soooo off-limits. She hadn’t participated in a threesome in years. Not that it was an option, because it wasn’t. Jasper set aside her obsession with vampires and her curiosity about Buck Sunside to open the door.

“Hayyy.” Jasper waved a hand. “Come in. And watch your step.”
“Forgive Buck,” Nieema said, crossing the threshold. She carried herself like a queen and resembled one. “He’s in writing mode. Ain’t no talking while he’s walking. I’m going to throw some things at him and he’ll jot it all down.”

Jasper scrunched her nose as Nieema turned up hers. She was a gorgeous Black goddess with obsidian skin and a shock of teal braids. They were bound in an elegant crown and suited her regal features.

“Water damage,” Nieema pipped, strolling into what might be formal living one day. Jasper loved the giant fireplace. “Mold damage. Termites are having a time wallowing in their rot. The floors gotta go. There’s a leak below. Solid bones, though.”
Nieema stomped twice and nodded.
“The foundation is crumbling, child. I can hear mice chattering in the walls and squirrels are in the attic. They’ve chewed through the wiring, I’m sure. I wouldn’t turn on a single light if I was you.’
“They don’t work,” Jasper added, though given the lanterns and fake candles, Nieema probably knew.

Buck followed his wife, scribbling every word. They traveled through the house, making Jasper dizzy. There was shit wrong she hadn’t even noticed. They conversed about what to do in the kitchen, leaving her to stare.
Buck was enormous. Taller than them both. Nieema was tiny, maybe five-two, so everyone was taller than her. But it wasn’t every day Jasper found a man over six-two. And he was at least six-three, perhaps five. His brawn caught her quick, but his mysterious nature and impeccable bone structure captured her attention. She found his down-home country attire funny next to the Mrs. Nieema dressed as if she fronted a metal band.
Corsets, chokers, matte lips, and the color black. Yesterday it was a corset dress. Today it was leather pants. Her bottom—

“Jasper? Hello?!”
“You expecting somebody?” Buck asked.
“Shit, Kit. I’ll be right back.”
Jasper hightailed it out of the musty pantry to see about her brother.

Buck

The house was a piece of shit. On a quiet, cozy street it was an eyesore. Boarded, abandoned, and inhaling its last breath. Buck smelled rot and decay. The wood swelled and them termites, yeah. They were eating good. Mother fuckers. Nobody should be living in this house. It was one light breeze away from collapsing. He heard every creak, groan, and snap. Beams screamed under their weight and bolts rattled.

“She shouldn’t be staying here, mama.”
“I was about to say the same. This place is a ruin. I’m wondering how much Hawk Shade got outta her. It ain’t worth more than ten thousand. Knowing his greedy ass he milked the poor woman.”
“You know it too.”

Buck opened a crooked cupboard door and let it slap to a close. Her house was in dire need of an overhaul. There wasn’t shit worth repairing, everything had to go. Down to the nails.
Jasper’s voice was a nice distraction. She entered the kitchen with a stout young man who was much older than he appeared. He cradled an ugly, fat, hairy cat and shook his head.
“What a—Jasper are staying here? It smells terrible. I can taste the mildew. I can get sick. My chest feels funky…”

Nieema hummed in her way and twirled, facing the duo. They were kin, Buck saw it in the eyes. As his wife dallied and pulled on a wobbly drawer, he got to thinking.
“This fella is right, don’t ya know.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Well…” Nieema examined the sink and clucked her tongue. “It’s a health hazard, a health violation. I wouldn’t allow nobody to stay up in here, much less let you buy the place. The realtor was wrong, Jasper. Now, if you want us to fix the house fine. But I can’t imagine y’all staying here overnight. I know you demonic and all, but it smells nasty, looks worse and where is this man gonna sleep? Like I said, I can—“

The second a Wicker Spider come bursting through the floor, Buck pushed the soft fella into the pantry and slammed the door. The eight-legged beast was foul, quick, and mad as a wet hen. They clawed for Jasper who had jumped on the counter.
Nieema was bucking on the fucker like the rodeo goddess she was.
“Don’t worry, mama! Imma—“ He spotted a cast iron skillet in a box and snatched it. The creature with razor thorns lining each limb flailed about and lunged at him. As Jasper screamed and the man in the closet cried, Buck bashed the thousand-eyed freak in the head. “That’s it, baby! Get that sucka!”
Nieema tore into its gray, fibrous exoskeleton. “Don’t let it scratch you!”
“WomanI been fight—“

He danced with the screeching as it tried and failed to throw his wife off. With a final blow, he called every root beneath and above. Vines, nettles, brambles, and barbed boughs fractured planks and studs. They snaked through wallpaper, around rusted pipes, and weaseled through outlets.
From below and behind, branches and trunks pierced the giant bug, spraying guts everywhere.
Nieema shred them to bits until it collapsed in a heap and wheezed. Their neon green eyes flickered and died as its vitality waned.

“Well at least there won’t be much to dismantle up in here.”
Nieema laughed and Buck rushed to her aid. He helped his sweet darlin’ down off the beast.
“Don’t be funny, Buck. She’s terrified.” Nieema extended a gentle hand and Jasper squeezed it. She helped the shaken woman onto her feet. “I think you got more than a termite infestation. Which is even more reason for you and the—“
Jasper cursed and waved at the mess Buck done made.
“My brother!”
“Oh my. Honey, I am sorry. Buck, get the man outta there!”
“Yes ma’am.”
Buck, thanks to his Drendt side, had a way with nature and a strong connection plants. The mess of thorns, sticks, and needles parted for him like any pair of curtain might. He rushed to free poor boy.

“Oh my god is that Wicker Spider?!” Jasper;s kin balked, holding their cat close.
“Mhm.”
“How did it get here?”
“Probably migrated or was brought over by a no good sumabitch. You let these heffas start making babies and you’ll be in a world of trouble. They love meat, ya know?”
“Meat?”
The man was sweating now, and that cat was a fuckin’ mess. His deep brick complexion was washed and damp. Given how his horns were sawed down Buck would wager he wasn’t no killing demon.

“They sure not herbivores,” Nieema said. “Now, seeing as your kitchen is gone and we don’t know if this thing has created a nest, I think you should stay someplace else.”
Jasper nodded as she tugged her brother’s arm. She looked him over and agreed. “Okay. Yeah. Whatever. We’ll get a hotel and—“
“Didn’t nobody say nothing about a hotel, Missy.”
Jasper whipped her head around. “Wait, what?”
“We have more than enough room on our ranch.”
“Nieema, I—“
“That’s settled. Come on now. Get a bag and let’s get going. I got ox tails and rice on the menu.”
Jasper looked to Buck, as if he’d intervene. First of all, what Nieema says goes. And second, he wanted and needed to know her better. This was a fine invitation and beneficial for everyone involved. He smiled and nodded, his wife was never wrong about these things.

The Sleeping Car Porter: Please Let This Man Sleep!

A photo of the sleeping car porter book

Historical fiction isn’t something I read often. But I enjoyed this book. Y’all, if you can get past the oddball formatting you’ll be fine. The author breaks many writing “rules”, and I loved it.

The Sleeping Car Porter is a fictional tale told from a single POV. Mr. Baxter. An overworked, underpaid, undervalued, TIRED porter. I found this story intriguing because I knew nothing about porters. As a Black millennial, I’m not shocked. There are many things we just never learned about growing up. This book though fictional, was a teaching moment. I looked into Pullman porters because of this novel. I watched documentaries about them on YT at two in the morning. They were IMPORTANT and completely overlooked during civil rights discussions. If you don’t know of their hand in our community please, do yourself a favor and learn about them. They changed Black labor unions forever and paved the way for those who needed it most.

Not only was this book a look into the lives of porters but also it shone a light on the struggling gay man. Relationship troubles, loneliness, and the hunger for connection filled the page.

The world still ain’t perfect and our community still needs support, but being a Black gay man during the 20th century was isolating. My heart broke for Baxter. By the end, I wanted him happy, well-rested, and fed. I think (I’m choosing to believe) that he moved in with his “friend” the doctor, and became a successful dentist.

My Favorite August Reads

I made it, I’m here y’all! Six days late but here we are. I’m still getting the hang of this blog thing. Anyway! August was DARK! I read a ton of horror that involved darker themes such as murder, death, and trauma. An honorable mention is Briardark, but it didn’t quite make it on the list. Now, before I crown my number one pick let me tell you to read all content warnings. If you’d love to read Library At Mount Char but have triggers i will give you a heads-up. Intense acts of violence, violence against kids, murder, gore, blood, death, assault, SA (caught me off guard)

i don’t have triggers and don’t read them, so I just grimaced and turned the page. LAMC is a horror book. I know some will say it’s dark sci-fi fantasy but there are horrific moments )in my opinion) that catapult this into the horror genre. It’s by no means extreme horror but it toed the boundary.

Midnight Rooms is another you must understand from the beginning, it is gothic horror darning on the jagged rim of Dark Romance. Which remember, is seldom healthy. If you don’t read said sub-genre great, move along. The other two are light romance reads I thoroughly enjoyed. No complaints. There might be one or two acts of violence in each book but nothing heavy.

I adored these books for my emotional response. Each novel pulled a visceral reaction from me and that’s what I call good storytelling. It’s my type of glorious word weaving. I will say the ending in LAMC left a sour taste on my tongue, and maybe that’s what the author wanted, I have no idea. I wanted blood-stained justice and didn’t get it. BUT! My expectations are a me problem, not an author problem.

With the talking bits done, I wanna give that five outta five, number one spot to Midnight Rooms. I have to! I was smelling mold and drinking down honey thick tea. it was a terrific dive into a surreal fantasy world with many secrets and some were left shrouded in mystery. Whatever this author writes i will buy!

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 spit. He flashed gold fangs and snapped his gum. He was a cruel-looking fella. Nieema cleared her throat and found it hard to breathe.
“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 thir—“
“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 a 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 leaped 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 Sunside 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 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

Queer Your Bookshelf

Hours remain! Get your books now! This is a gorgeous deal and your chance to read some magnificent stories if you haven’t already. With 400+ books there’s representation for all! Don’t miss out! Queeryourbookshelf.com makes it easy to find books with queer rep. There are tags and categories to keep things simple. Finding what you want and on any device is one click away. I for one love this site. They are doing a great service by gathering the books us queers wanna read.

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.
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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!