Tag Archives: coming out

Blog Tour: Blood Moon by Catherine Lundoff

Blood Moon | Catherine Lundoff

A Wolves of Wolf Point Novel

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Publisher: Queen of Swords Press

Length: 84,000 words

Cover Artist: T.M. Roy

Release Date: March 15th, 2021

Universal Link: https://books2read.com/b/mBoX2M

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/56585868-blood-moon

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Blurb

The Wolf’s Point werewolf pack, born from the magic that calls small groups of middle-aged women to embrace their inner and outer wolves, has been protecting the town for generations.

Now Becca Thornton and the Pack have their hands (and paws) full of all the trouble they can handle. Plus a bit extra. Pack member Erin Adams just found a dead body in the trunk of her car and confessed to murder. But no one’s sure who the victim is and Erin can’t remember what happened. Did Erin fall off the wagon and murder a former foe? She doesn’t trust herself and Becca’s beginning to have her doubts.

If that wasn’t enough, Becca’s ex-husband sold their old house and their new neighbors are clearly up to something. Can the Pack solve the mystery and clear Erin’s name before the next full moon? Or do the town’s new residents have other plans?

Excerpt

Wolf’s Point: a town in a mountain valley where some women of a certain age go through more than a few physical metamorphoses. The local werewolves are the traditional defenders of the valley, their transformations shaped by the valley’s magic. Time: the present, variously defined.

A few months ago, Becca Thornton, divorced and newly turned fifty, found herself changing more than she could have ever imagined when she joined the Pack. With her help, the werewolves survived their greatest threat to their existence when one of their former members returned to wreak vengeance on those she thought had destroyed her life.

She offered them a choice between a dangerous cure and certain death. Becca was part of that victory but it cost her a home and other things that she cherished from her past.

But now the werewolf hunters were gone, expelled from the valley by forces magical and mundane, so everyone’s life could go back to normal. Whatever that was.

Erin Adams looked out at the mountains and tried not to think about what was in the trunk of her car. At least the mountains around Wolf’s Point were still as beautiful as ever. She wondered if she’d ever get the chance to run through them again, feel the wind in her fur, the ground flying by under her paws. The Pack at her side.

That thought was enough to make her look back at her car. Erin rubbed her aching forehead with one hand and closed her eyes. This was, without question, the worst thing she’d ever done. Even if she couldn’t remember doing it.

But maybe there was still time to call Shelly and get her help to figure a way out of this mess that she’d blundered into. That was what Pack Alphas did, or so Shelly kept reminding her. But that might make Shelly an accessory if they got caught. Or rather, when she got caught. Erin closed her eyes for an instant; lying was never a thing she’d been good at or wanted to get good at. Anyone she called would almost certainly go down with her.

That thought weighed her down like a rock. The Pack couldn’t afford to be without its Alpha so soon after they got her back, not to mention what it would do to Pete and the kids. There was no way that she could drag Shelly into this.

Her thoughts turned to Becca, waded through a jumbled mess of emotions and came back with a single realization: they’d suspect her first. Becca was her friend, her housemate. Her…something they still hadn’t defined, but which felt more like girlfriend every day.  Her stomach did a slow, leisurely flip when she thought about that and she almost smiled. But this wasn’t the time to think about Becca. She couldn’t afford to be distracted, to be vulnerable. Not now.

Maybe there was another solution, a way to hide what had happened. But then what? She’d still know and she’d have to carry the burden of what she’d done, alone. And she knew where that road led. Falling off the wagon to cope with her guilt wasn’t an option, either.

Besides, if she ditched the body out here and it was found, the regular wolves would certainly get blamed for it. The new governor was already pushing for a wolf hunting season and that would put things right over the edge. She didn’t want that on her conscience either; the wild wolves were kin as much as they were cover for the Pack and important for the local ecology.

Erin ran her fingers through her short-cropped brown hair, wondering if there was anyone else she could turn to. But she couldn’t think of any other Pack member who’d be able to do anything about this situation, not more than she could do herself, anyway. It certainly wasn’t the sort of thing that her AA sponsor had signed up for, or any of her friends, for that matter. So she was on her own. There was nothing for it but to lie in the bed she’d made for herself.

She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and selected a contact. “Hi. It’s Erin. I’ve done something…I need…can you come up to Spruce Point? Yes, it’s important. I want you to see it before Sheriff Henderson does.”

She clicked the phone off and glanced toward the road. Nothing to do now but wait.

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About the Series

Welcome to the town of Wolf’s Point, where menopause can kick off with a few additional changes, like bonus lycanthropy.

Join Pack members Becca Thornton, Erin Adams, and their friends as they fend off werewolf hunters and sundry folks of ill intent while preserving the town for the coming generations. And contend with coming out at midlife, recovery, transitioning, falling in love, making friends and building community.

About The Author

AUTHOR PIC - Blood Moon - Catherine Lundoff

Catherine Lundoff is an award-winning writer, editor and publisher based in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Her short stories and articles have appeared in numerous venues from Fireside Magazine to Sherlock Holmes and the Occult Detectives.

Her books include the Wolves of Wolf’s Point series: Silver Moon and Blood Moon, Unfinished Business: Tales of the Dark Fantastic, Out of This World: Queer Speculative Fiction Stories, A Day at the Inn, A Night at the Palace and Other Stories, Crave and Night’s Kiss.

She is also the editor of the anthologies Scourge of the Seas of Time (and Space) and Haunted Hearths and Sapphic Shades: Lesbian Ghost Stories and co-editor (with JoSelle Vanderhooft) of Hellebore and Rue: Tales of Queer Women and Magic.

In addition, she writes erotica and erotic romance as Emily L. Byrne, including the novel Medusa’s Touch and the short story collections Desire and Knife’s Edge.

She is also the publisher at Queen of Swords Press, a genre fiction publisher specializing in fiction from out of this world and she teaches writing and editing workshops at the Rambo Academy, Broad Universe and other venues.

Social Media

Website: https://www.catherinelundoff.net

Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/Clundoff/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/clundoff

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/670244.Catherine_Lundoff

Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com): https://www.limfic.com/mbm-book-author/catherine-lundoff/

Giveaway

Catherine is giving away a $20 Queen of Swords Press gift card with this tour:

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Release Blitz: Star Shadow: The Complete Series by Beth Bolden

Star Shadow: The Complete Series | Beth Bolden

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Cover Artist: Cate Ashwood Designs

Release Date: February 18, 2021

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 335,000 words (four full-length novels + bonus epilogue novella)

Buy Links

Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US | Amazon UK

Add to Goodreads

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Blurb

Can they fix the mistakes of the past?

An ex-boyband, betrayed by everyone they trusted.

Star Shadow met when they were only sixteen years old—four different guys, with four different dreams that coalesced into one when they became a worldwide phenomenon.

Hope was shredded, loyalties tested, and love destroyed.

But now there’s a chance to fix the mistakes of the past.

Love renewed. Friendship resurrected. They’ve earned a brand new beginning and a fresh start.

***

Terrible Things  – When Caleb walked out, leaving his band and his lover behind, Leo knew he could never forgive. He never expected Caleb to show up again, clean and sober and wanting Star Shadow to get back together. But maybe this might not be so terrible after all.

Impossible Things – For the last ten years, Benji and Diego have not only been members of Star Shadow, but best friends. As much as they’ve both wanted more from their relationship, it never felt worth it to trade what they have for something hot, heady and completely impossible.

Hazardous Things –Felix can’t even remember the first time he crushed on Max, Star Shadow’s drummer. But he’s never acted on his feelings. One, because Max is his older brother’s best friend. Two, because Max is also his friend.Three, Max is technically his boss. And four, worst of all, Max is straight.

Extraordinary Things – Caleb knows he’s earned Leo’s forgiveness. He wants to believe he deserves it, but just when Leo needs him more than ever, a voice in his head insists that he doesn’t. It’s so loud, he can’t block it out. So loud, he’d do anything to silence it. Including risking everything he and Leo, and the rest of Star Shadow, have built together.

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Excerpt

Terrible Things

Leo was pretty sure he was going to be sick.

Not like a little bit sick, but the type of full-on sick that led to massively puking his guts up into this not-very-clean toilet.

Seriously, that was something they should have added to the tour rider—please ensure all bathrooms were cleaned thoroughly in case Leo Humphries needed to spend an hour crouched over a toilet.

The hard tile was digging into his jean-covered knees and the floor was freezing, but he couldn’t seem to move, didn’t even remember staggering in here. Definitely after he’d fixed his hair and he’d dressed in the simple jeans and t-shirt he’d picked out for the first night. It was only then that what he was about to do hit him, and the big lunch he’d eaten threatened to rise.

He’d been in here about an hour, give or take, and it was a surprise nobody had found him, but just when he’d thanked god that nobody had yet, the door creaked open and he heard footsteps walking toward his stall.

Leo closed his eyes. He’d wanted it to be just about anybody other than who it was. “Leo,” Caleb called softly. “I know you’re in here. Are you okay?”

Leo gripped the dingy toilet with only the tips of his fingers, felt the ceramic edge as it dug into his skin. “Not really,” he mumbled.

“Should’ve told someone. Not just run off.”

“Didn’t want anybody to know,” Leo admitted. Especially you.

“Don’t care.” Caleb’s voice was a little harsh. “Should have done it anyway.” He rattled the stall door. “Let me in.”

Leo exhaled and shook his head before he realized Caleb couldn’t see him. “No. Definitely no.”

Caleb harrumphed and then was quiet for a moment. “I could probably break this down, you know,” he finally said, and the stall door rattled harder this time.

“I’m sure you could,” Leo snapped. “But that would be rude.”

“Don’t care.” The door shook again, even harder this time around. For a split second, Leo actually considered hefting himself off the floor to brace against the flimsy door in an attempt to prevent Caleb’s forced entry.

Not moving won out by a very narrow margin, but then the door jerked hard in its wimpy foundation and Leo had to reconsider. At this rate, Caleb might actually pull the entire set of stalls down, and that wasn’t going to look very good when everyone inevitably found out.

He could see the headlines now. Star Shadow destroys bathroom at tour venue.

Leo raised himself to his knees and flicked the lock. The door swung open and Caleb was standing in the opening, wearing an obnoxiously patterned shirt.

“You’re annoying,” Leo growled, dropping back to his original position and praying that at some point in the next few minutes his body finally decided what it wanted to do. He was frustrated with its indecisiveness.

Never mind that at some point during the evening, he needed to get together enough to actually go out onstage and perform for whoever had decided to show up.

Caleb crouched down by Leo, gaze very concerned. “Are you nervous?”

“No, I ate some bad shellfish,” Leo snapped.

Caleb’s chuckle was soft. “Nerves it is then.”

“Honestly, Caleb. Of course it’s nerves.”

“You have nothing to be nervous about. You know that, right?” Caleb reassured him.

Leo frowned.

Reaching forward, Caleb hesitatingly put his hand on Leo’s back. “I’m serious. You’re great. You’re always great.”

That was so completely untrue that Leo nearly laughed. “Actually, no. I’m not at all.” He paused. “I mean, I’m just not the same, you know? I’m not going to be the same. And they’ll all see it. They’ll see who I really am.”

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About the Author

A lifelong Oregonian, Beth Bolden has just recently moved to North Carolina with her supportive husband and their sweet kitten, Earl Grey. Beth still believes in Keeping Portland Weird, and intends to be just as weird in Raleigh.

Beth has been writing practically since she learned the alphabet. Unfortunately, her first foray into novel writing, titled Big Bear with Sparkly Earrings, wasn’t a bestseller, but hope springs eternal. She’s published twenty novels and six novellas.

Social Media

Blog/Website | Facebook | Twitter | BookBub

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Giveaway

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Release Blitz: The Q by Rick R. Reed

The Q | Rick R. Reed

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Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: February 1st, 2021

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Female, Male/Male, Female/Female

Length: 51,500

Buy Links:

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Add to Goodreads

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Blurb

Step out for a Saturday night at The Q—the small town gay bar in Appalachia where the locals congregate. Whose secret love is revealed? What long-term relationship comes to a crossroad? What revelations come to light? The DJ mixes a soundtrack to inspire dancing, drinking, singing, and falling in (or out) of love.

This pivotal Saturday night at The Q is one its regulars will never forget. Lives irrevocably change. Laugh, shed a tear, and root for folks you’ll come to love and remember long after the last page.

The Q New Release

Excerpt

The Q
Rick R. Reed © 2021
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One: Hey Bartender!

Mary Louise hated the term fag hag.

It was demoralizing, conjuring up an image of an older woman, heavyset, with too much makeup and hair that was too big. She would be sitting at home with her two cats, Will and Grace, drinking Cosmos alone and streaming Queer as Folk or Queer Eye while she waited for one of her gay male friends to call to shape and determine the extent of her social life. She’d maybe drink a little too much and laugh a little too loud. She’d play wingperson and watch wistfully from the sidelines as her cohorts paired off for an evening, a week, a month, or a lifetime. She’d tell her friends and family who’d never darkened the threshold of a gay bar that she liked going to them because she didn’t get hit on by predatory losers and she could let her hair down.

She knew the stereotype because for many years she’d been it—well, maybe not exactly, but close enough to make her cringe at the memory.

Sure, she still owned cats (or they her, far more likely), who were Siamese and not named Will and Grace, but Harry and Sally. Her hair had never been big and her idea of great TV was streaming the Golden Girls on Hulu. “Okay, so that’s a little gay,” she heard Sophia saying in the back of her mind. Her drinking taste leaned much more toward beer or a nice glass of whiskey, neat.

She’d broken free of being the wingwoman to the various gay men she befriended. She’d gotten rid of the idea that her happiness depended on a man, gay or otherwise.

She still laughed too loud and probably always would. One of her friends, Mort, delighted in acting out a scene with her from Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf when she let loose with one of her ear-splitting laughs. He’d accuse her of braying, and she’d respond, in her best Elizabeth Taylor, “I don’t bray,” and then command him to make her another gin and tonic. He always would comply and would sheepishly respond, “All right. You don’t bray.”

Mort had been gone since 1992, when AIDS took him at the tender age of twenty-eight. Mary Louise still missed him and kept a picture of the two of them, taken while on vacation in Provincetown, a year before Mort was diagnosed. She’d look at that photograph of the two of them, arms slung around each other on Commercial Street, and her eyes would well with tears, even though it had been close to thirty years since Mort had passed in an AIDS ward in a Pittsburgh hospital with only Mary Louise at his side. That loss still was tragic, not only because of Mort’s tender age, but because he was so alone. His partner, Nate, and his folks in Shippingport had abandoned him, the former claiming he couldn’t stand to see him this way and the latter voicing concerns that they might catch the virus. He was your son! She’d wanted to scream at the parents. He needed your arms around him. He needed you to see him. He was your lover! she’d say to Nate. His dying and death wasn’t about you and your fragile feelings.

Mary Louise hoped there was a special place in hell waiting for all three of them.

She’d watched many of her friends succumb to the virus before protease inhibitors came onto the scene, turning what was a death sentence into a somewhat manageable condition. She’d never stop mourning the loss of so many beautiful men.

When the fallout from all this was over, for all practical purposes, Mary Louise found herself bereft of friends. That’s when she decided to pack up and move back to her home town of Hopewell, where her mom and two sisters still lived. There was comfort in coming home to a place where her roots were deeply embedded, even if the area was blighted with poverty. It was still some of the most beautiful countryside Mary Louise could imagine.

Chicago had suddenly seemed too big and, at the same time, paradoxically empty. There were so many reminders—the Boystown strip along Halsted, the Baton Club on Clark, the Swedish restaurant Ann Sather next to the Belmont L stop—all of these places and so many more held more painful memories than she could count, even if they had the power to make her smile and laugh. She figured time and distance would transform the painful memories into joyous ones.

But each recollection of a night of drunken revelry out with her boys or a bleary-eyed brunch the morning after, were a hot touch to her grief, a pain that may have softened, but never went away. Mary Louise was grateful—she’d never willingly give up the hurt. She wanted to hold onto these memories of her boys forever. Despite the fact she was a bit of a stereotype and fit the fag hag profile pretty much to a T, the days and nights in Chicago with her circle of gay friends had been some of the happiest days of her life. And she didn’t even realize it at the time. Wasn’t that always the way?

Hopewell brought a sense of quiet, with its looming tree-covered hills—the foothills of the Appalachians and its position on a winding curve of the mud-brown Ohio River.

Moving back had simplified her life, even if it drained a lot of the bustle and color from it. In Chicago, she never walked alone; the streets, no matter the time of day or night, were always busy. In Hopewell, she could wander and never bump into anyone.

It was her mom, at eighty-six, who needed her help with things like shopping, cooking, running errands, and chauffeuring her to doctor’s appointments. Old Trudy, as she and her sisters referred to her behind her back, refused to move in with one of them, or God forbid, the assisted living facility up the road in Newell. Trudy always said, “I live alone because I like it. They say money is the root of all evil, but the truth is it’s people.”

Mom got by with her girls. And Mary Louise, even as she sometimes got nostalgic for the bright lights and hustle of the big city, knew she was doing the right thing. She’d experienced the Chicago skyline on a clear night, Lake Michigan’s blue/aqua/gray waves crashing against the shore, and the vast diversity of people living on its shore, and no one could ever take those memories away.

Even if she was feisty, clearheaded, and mobile, no one knew how much longer Mom would be with them.

At the Q, Mary Louise still could eye the boys, flirt with them, tease them, and play matchmaker in her role as bartender.

Right now, she stood behind the bar in a pair of unflattering black orthopedic shoes. Once upon a time, Mary Louise adored a pair of CFM (come-fuck-me) pumps with four-inch spikes. Oh, how great they made her legs look back in the day! Not that many noticed in hangouts like Sidetrack or Roscoe’s.

Now, midfifties, she needed to be comfortable when she was on her feet all night. Her smile depended on it, and thus her tips.

Currently, she waited for the doors to open, which would happen in about an hour. She was blissfully alone. Well, maybe blissful wasn’t the right word because all the lights were on as she prepped citrus and olives for drinks, washed glasses, polished the bar, and made sure the bottles behind it were stocked and ready to go.

The overhead lights cruelly stole most of the limited magic the Q possessed. And that was too bad. One of Mary Louise’s favorite characters was the tragic Blanche Dubois, from Tennessee Williams’s A Streetcar Named Desire and one of her favorite lines from the show was Blanche’s opinion that she didn’t want realism, she wanted magic. The shadows, soft lighting, and even the disco ball above the dance floor lent a kind of alchemy to the place, transforming it from run down to a setting where anything could happen, where hope lived.

Just before the doors opened, though, the joint looked tired and sad (as Mary Louise herself often felt). The cinder block walls, painted black, possessed a menacing air, like a dungeon—and not a fun one! The concrete floor, stained, showed its grit and the cracks that ran through it. Even the single long rectangle window at the front appeared dusty. Night pressed in on the tinted glass like a monster, hungry for admittance.

Stop it! Now you’re just getting crazy. Mary Louise finished her prep work and allowed herself a moment to sit on the stool she kept behind the bar. It might be her last chance for several hours to relax, if only for a few minutes. She dreaded the coming ache of her feet at evening’s end, orthopedic shoes or not.

But, oh, how she looked forward to seeing everyone! Every Saturday night was a party, and she was the hostess with the mostess.

Despite how some of the regulars could try her patience down to its last reserves, it brought her joy to watch the revelers, to serve them, to offer oblivion in a glass or a bottle. Even though her dancing days, mostly, were well behind her, she loved seeing everyone out there, bodies gyrating and spinning. Some were great, others awkward, others downright embarrassing, but to witness them cut loose after a long week was a thing of beauty, no matter their level of expertise or coordination. She especially loved some of the older patrons, who would bring their shakers of corn starch in to sprinkle on the floor, making it easier to slip and slide to the pulsing dance beat.

Gracie, Rose, and Liz were a lesbian trio that she particularly adored. Even though she’d never had much conversation with them, other than to take their drink orders, the three seemed so well-adjusted and happy, despite never once pairing off, as half the bar expected them to do. And Mary Louise, who considered herself a pretty astute observer of human nature, could tell from a mile away that Gracie was in love with Rose. So obvious! Why couldn’t Rose see it? Or did she simply not want to? Mary Louise had wondered if maybe they were a throuple, but everyone she talked to about that particular suspicion shot in down. “They’re best friends, that’s all.”

She turned as the door squeaked open. There stood Billy Breedlove, her barback and bouncer when needed (not often) in his usual garb—black combat boots, black cargo pants, and a black T-shirt that appeared to be painted on his beefy physique—looking worried.

Mary Louise was taken a little aback. For one, her breath always did a little catch in her throat when she saw him, accompanied by a skip of a heartbeat. He was a beautiful man with his muscles, his bleached-blond buzz cut, and the tattoo sleeves, wildly colorful butterflies and birds that ran down both arms. The fact that he was unattainable made him even more attractive.

And then she’d chide herself. That young man is a good twenty years younger than you, if not more. Cougar. Shame on you.

He’d once told her, when the doors were closed and the lights back on, as they concluded the evening’s business and everyone had headed home, that he was a volcel.

“What the hell’s that?” Mary Louise had asked, mystified.

“I’m an ace,” he’d said, only confusing her further.

“Voluntary celibate, asexual,” Billy told her. “I’m better off without the nasty, you know. I just don’t want it. It would be hard, no pun intended, if it didn’t work for me. But honestly, I never think about sex. Call me weird, but it works for me. And that’s all that matters.”

On hearing those words, she laughed, disbelieving. She fully expected him to laugh, too, maybe slug her in the arm for being gullible. When he didn’t join her in her laughter, her heart broke for him because she knew he wasn’t kidding. She’d pined with unrequited love for gay men most of her adult life and here was one who was most likely straight. And wouldn’t you know it? He’d sworn off sex.

The world was a hopeless place.

He’s too young for you anyway.

The second reason Mary Louise was taken aback was from the worry stamped on Billy’s face.

“There’s been an accident,” he called over. “It’s bad.”

“Oh no.” Mary Louise stood. “What happened?”

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About the Author

Real Men. True Love.

Rick R. Reed is an award-winning and bestselling author of more than fifty works of published fiction. He is a Lambda Literary Award finalist. Entertainment Weekly has described his work as “heartrending and sensitive.” Lambda Literary has called him: “A writer that doesn’t disappoint…”

Rick lives in Palm Springs, CA, with his husband, Bruce, and their fierce Chihuahua/Shiba Inu mix, Kodi.

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