Birthday Guest: Freddy McKay

Please welcome my birthday guest - Freddy McKay!

Dancing Stars

By Freddy MacKay

The sniffles weren't too far away. Tadashi paused to listen again, allowing all other noises drown away. The fun type were children laughed, adults conversed in groups, and the teenagers amassed, broke apart then swarmed together again oohhing and ahhing over the different booths.

And each other. Tadashi sighed. Okay, maybe his concentration needed a little more work. He'd forgotten how hard this age was. Thirteen. The lack of focus, the hormones all over the place, and why did his hair have to grown in like that by his crotch this time around? No, not what he was supposed to be worrying about. Not even close.

Dag had run off. That was why Tadashi needed to focus on the sniffles. He knew that quiet crying anywhere, or more specifically, who it belonged to.

The young boy he'd chosen to protect now that Per had grown up. His duty. His old persona had reached a ripe old age and it had been time to retire even before Dag had been born. The hows were a little more complicated than they used to be. Humans. They lived so long now. They also had too many means in which to document everything.

But they had managed to put in place his brother Etsou and his wife, Hikaru, had a child but a sickly one. She traveled to Europe to get their kid treatment while Etstou stayed at the temple with periodic visits to her. The plan gave them all leeway to keep a facade while Tadashi passed on.

His end of the bargain was to stay out of sight. Not always the easiest thing, but they managed. Tadashi spent more time as his fox than human for six years. The freedom of the temple responsibilities had been nice, and he took more than one trip around the globe. But the mountain was home. Always would be now.

It felt good to be young again, like he'd been reborn. Maybe he had. So much had happened in the last century, so many wounds accumulated, so much life lived Tadashi welcomed the challenges of growing up again.

If I had only known what I was getting in for. Tadashi might've come up with a different plan. One that entailed the Mizuno's moving away then coming back. Staring over at five? Pretending to learn all over again? Only two things kept Tadashi from leaving. His son, Kou, and Dag. His little squirrel who preferred home and the strong, resilient young boy who brought laughter into life.

So to have Dag's eyes well with unshed tears, to see him cry out and stomp, then to turn and run away, it broke Tadashi's heart. He wanted Dag's exuberant smile back. To do that, he'd have to find him first.

Which is... Tadashi tilted his head to the left. The temple. Somewhere in the temple. Only Dag.  Tadashi looked up. The sky had gotten quite dark. The fireworks would be beginning soon. They had some neat ones this year he didn't want Dag to miss.

Tadashi took off at a trot, weaving in and out of the flow of bodies. Friends called out to him, their excited voices asking where Dag was and whether or not to save some of the good seats for them.

"Maybe! If you can!" Tadashi called back, still pushing through the crowd. Going upstream was never easy.

The closer he got to the temple, the faster he could run without worrying about toppling someone over. People smiled at him, some asked for Etsou and Hikaru, while a few grumpy old timers told him to slow down. But he refused to go any slower. He wanted Dag to see the fireworks with him.

The thump of the tiles resounded in his ears as he made for the temple, zeroed in on Dag's hiccups and stuttered breaths. Tadashi zig-zagged through a few stragglers before shooting up the temple steps and inside the main room. Out of breath, and a little frazzled, Tadashi took a moment to gather himself.

Partially because he needed to, and partially because the overflowing emotions he was desperate to hold in check. Stupid teenage hormones.

Obon never ceased to amaze him. The crowds. The energy. The love of community. The love of small town with mostly Scandinavian background had for his customs. The small pinprick of pride flowed through him. They helped him make the town feel like a safe place for Japanese citizens to resettle after... well, after Berg had him reopen the temple. They even had a museum dedicated to survivors of the internment camps down in town.

But seeing the festival through these eyes, fresh ones, really hit him in the feels. Tadashi had been so focused on his birthright and paying homage to his ancestors he had forgotten how much fun Obon could be. This year even more so, he was finally getting back to an age where people didn't question him running around all by himself.

Then there was Dag and their friends. Because of Dag, Tadashi always had people around him, kids wanting to play and enjoy the day instead of worrying about everything else.

How long had it been since he really let go and celebrated? Too long.

Except Dag wasn't there to celebrate. He'd run off, crying. His green eyes full of tears, Tadashi stunned into silence and wondering what had caused the outburst. All right. Time to find his friend.

Tadashi looked up and scanned the main room. He dipped his head when his gaze fell upon Inari, but continued his search for Dag. He could've sworn the sounds had been from here. If it had been any of the other rooms the chances were Tadashi might not have heard them.

Disgruntled and surprised he was a little pissed at missing the fireworks, Tadashi turned to leave when color caught his eye. Color where there shouldn't be any. Bright red converse stuck out from behind Inari.

Dag.

Ambling over to the statue, Tadashi decided it would be better to not give Dag a chance to run. He went around the opposite side and hoped for the best. What he found broke his heart.

Dag leaned heavily against the statue. His head pressed against the top of the base. The defensive position in which he had curled into was awkward and telling. One gangly leg stuck out—the one that had given him away—while his other one had been pulled up against his chest. One long thin arm held it close while the other lay by his side, Dag's hand turned up on the ground.

A puppy. Too big for its own body. Thirteen and Dag was already a head over most of their friends. Gangly to the point where someone could count his ribs without much effort. Someday he'd grow into himself, but first, Dag would have to survive the teen years.

Tadashi crouched down next to his young ward and friend. Dag didn't even notice. His eyes were closed, cheeks stained red from the tears.

"Hey." Tadashi shoulder bumped Dag.

"What?" Dag started, turning a wide-eyed gaze on him. "Tada? What?"

Dag tried to untangle himself but only managed tripping himself up instead. Tadashi caught him, only to have Dag pull away. The move hurt, but Tadashi managed to put on a brave face. At least, he hoped he did.

"I'm sorry. Why did you run away?"

Unfortunately the response only created more tears. Tadashi looked up to Inari wishing for a little help.

A garbled, hiccuped reply from Dag came instead. "You forgot. How could"–hiccup–"you forget? Anyone else."

"Dag, I need you to stop crying. I can't understand you."

More hiccups followed by more tears came. Tadashi had to remind himself once again how young Dag really was. Just because he'd gotten bigger didn't mean he suddenly grew up on the inside too. The first loud boom went off outside.

"No one." More hiccups. More booms. "I could've handle any"–hiccup–"one else forgetting. Just not you."

Whatever Tadashi had forgotten certainly had to be a big deal. He reached out tentatively and put a hand on Dag's shoulders. More loud pops and booms went off overhead. A shudder rippled through Dag, his mournful green gaze turning on Tadashi.

"All day I waited." He sniffled, snot running down to his lip. "All the excitement. I kept waiting when the surprise would be."

Surprise? Tadashi struggled to keep up with the jumbled words.

"I love you," Dag said with another hiccup. "And you don't even care. You just forgot me."

"I haven't forgetten you!" Tadashi protested, confused but sure he hadn't done anythign wrong. Dag kept on going as if he'd never heard Tadashi.

"No cake." Another hiccup. "No present."

Oh gods no. Tadashi had indeed forgotten something incredibly important. His chest tightened and the pit of his stomach clenched. He had to do something. Quick.

"I kept waiting and waiting," Dag continued, tears and hiccups galore. "But nothing."

Tadashi grabbed Dag's shoulders and shook him. "Wrong. You're wrong."

Dag's forlorn gaze rose. He swiped his hand across his runny nose. His shoulders were still slumped but Dag had stopped crying. No more tears stained his cheeks. Tadashi saw the raw need radiating off him.

"I just wanted to wait," Tadashi said, only a tiny bit of guilt about the lie. Sometimes it really was kinder. "Because I didn't want the others to get jealous."

"Over what?" A flare of hope shined in Dag's eyes.

"What I got you."

"A-a present."

Tadashi nodded. "In my... Meditation room."

"What?" Dag's expression darkened.

"I wanted to keep it a surprise." But before Dag could question him further, Tadashi pulled him up and dragged him out from behind Inari. He ran, a startled Dag tripping after him.

They were out of the temple and off across the empty courtyard while Tadashi tried to think of what to give Dag. Overhead the fireworks display burst above them. Blue, gold, white and red li the sky above, cheers and claps following each burst. But the lights were of no importance anymore. The only thing Tadashi wanted was to make Dag understand how important he was. However, there were only a few items he kept in his shack. One of the drawers in the dresser had Kou's tidbits. There were shirts, mediation stuff, his pictures, and... And... Well, yes, that might work.

The problem with that was its size. Tadashi looked over his shoulder with a critical eye on Dag. He was still growing, but could he really excuse the improper fit because of that? Although... If he gave one of his own... Yes. Problem solved.

Tadashi led them into the shack, pushing away the wave of sadness he encountered every time he visited this place. He turned on the light, focusing on the dresser and ignoring the paintings on the walls. It would only hurt more to look at them.

Not only had he not been here to pay respects recently, Tadashi had failed Berg by hurting Dag. It hadn't been intended, being too busy wasn't an excuse, and Dag really hadn't cared if the festival trumped his birthday before, but it obviously mattered this time.

"Sit down," Tadashi said, pointing to the couch. Dag went, head straight, his eyes following Tadashi. "Just give me a minute."

"Sure."

The dresser wasn't completely empty. Certain items with deep meaning were kept here. When Tadashi needed to escape, or remember, or to breathe, this was where he always came. The place where his life restarted. The place where Berg brought him, healed him, and fought for him. Those gunshots decades ago should've killed him, but Berg wanted him alive, so Tadashi fought. Clung to that need. That hope. It taught him to breathe again.

Tadashi opened the top drawer. Four boxes were inside it. He touched he purple one, thinking hard. It had been his once upon a time, but Tadashi had never worn it. The occasion slipping away from him the moment Berg died in his arms. After that he couldn't bring himself to wear it. Maybe it's time to let go. A little bit. Out of the corner of his eye, Dag sat rigid on the couch, anticipation vibrating off him. Maybe if it was Dag wearing the yukata it wouldn't hurt anymore.

With a smile, Tadashi pulled the box out and turned to Dag. "For you."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"It's not wrapped."

"Too pretty of a box to wrap it up." It was true after all. A kitsune adorned the box, standing tall by Inari's side. Fitting if Tadashi thought about it. "Open it."

Dag took the box and flipped the lid, eyes wide.

"Happy Birthday, Dag. May the next year be even better."

"But—"

"You don't like it?"

"It's just—" Dag shook his head. "A yukata? One like this?"

Tadashi turned away, not wanting to show his disappointment. He should've know Dag would balk. He hadn't been made with him in mind after all.

"Are you sure it's okay?" Dag asked. "It must've been... Expensive."

Tadashi didn't answer.

"It's beautiful. I think it would suit you better."

"It's too big for me." Give him about five years or so, then Tadashi would be the right size again. "If you don't like it—"

"No! I want it!"

Tadashi turned back, and sure enough Dag had the yukata clutched to his chest.

"You said it's mine, right?

"Yes."

"Will you help me put it on?"

"Of course."

Dag stood, carefully putting the box on the couch, then stripped down to his boxer briefs. Tadashi smiled, his heart squeezing tight. To see Dag putting on his yukata did strange things. Things he was better of not thinking on—not to mention the guilt weighing him down.

"Is this the way it goes?" Dag turned in a circle, frowning.

"No, here, let me." Tadashi adjusted the . "The left goes over the right. Right over left is for the dead."

Something he hoped Dag wouldn't be for a long time.

"Then the obi goes like this." Tadashi ducked to wrap it around Dag's waist. A hand pressed against his shoulder. An inquiring glance up found Dag staring intently down at him. "What?"

"Thank you." The words were small, quiet, barely perceptible, but they meant the world to him.

"You're welcome. Now let's see."

Dag turned around, holding his hands up. "Does it suit me?"

No, but Tadashi felt a little better knowing his yukata would be there to help protect Dag. "Yes."

The blue bottom grew into a dark purple the near black at the top. Instead of the more popular geometric pattern men's yukatas had these days, stars adorned the fabric will a lone sliver of the moon. Flowers dotted the bottom—definitely not the style of today—while a kitsune watch from afar on the back.

Please, Inari, Dag asked. Look over this boy as he makes his first steps into manhood. Let me be there always when he needs me.

The smile Dag wore reminded Tadashi of the ones Berg used to give him. Honest. Open. Loving. Sometime in the future Dag would probably remind Tadashi more of his grandfather  Berg than he wanted. When he filled out.

The thought niggled on something in Tadashi's head but he pushed it away. "You ready to join the celebration again?"

"Yeah, and Tada?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you." Dag petted the yukata. "It's like they move when I do, like the stars are dancing on the yukata."

Tadashi just smiled in return.

"I'll wear it forever," Dag declared, and took Tadashi by the hand. "This really means a lot to me."

"Well, you mean a lot to me."

Dag blushed.

"Ready for the fireworks?"

Dag titled his head, smiling sadly. "Sounds like they're almost done."

Tadashi pulled Dag outside, the two of them huddled close together in the courtyard, watching the explosions above. Shoulder to shoulder their eyes fixated on the shapes and colors above them. Dag's fingers brushed Tadashi's, and he almost drew back. Except Dag gave him that heart-attack inducing smile again.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"No, I mean it. Thanks for not forgetting me."

"What are best friends for?"

Dag laughed. "To drive us crazy?"

"Maybe," Tadashi agreed. "But I like to think we're there to help pick the other person up."

"Sounds nice." Dag pushed closer to Tadashi.

He agreed and turned to the sky. Thirteen wasn't so bad, and he was excited to see what kind of man Dag was going to become. Half way there but still so short. But someday, they'd be out here, under the stars dancing away. Until then, Tadashi would watch over Dag best he could.

A brilliant smile lit up Dag's face the exact same moment the sky exploded with the grand finale, fireworks bursting every which way, floating down toward them like stars coming to rest. Music poured out from the speakers. Dag grabbed Tadashi's hand and pulled him close.

And together, side by side, they watched as the lights danced overhead. Tadashi pressed in a little closer and sighed. The night really couldn't get more prefect.

"Happy birthday, Dag. I hope that you get everything you wished for."

Marionettes in the Mist

Marionettes in the Mist

Blurb

A fugitive skinwalker, a down-on-his-luck phoenix, a goblin rock star, and a wild dragon ranger have nothing in common except the sudden violence that tears their separate worlds apart. With wildly different motivations, each sets off on his own journey to try to solve the puzzles left in the wake of murder and mayhem.

When these four meet, the hints and clues begin to point them to something bigger, and toward answers that might make them wish they'd all stayed home.

About Freddy

Freddy grew up in the Midwest, playing sports and running around outside. And honestly, that much has not changed since Freddy was small and throwing worms at other kids, expect worm throwing has been replaced with a healthy geocaching addiction. Freddy enjoys traveling and holds the view a person should continually to learn about new things and people whenever possible. 

Freddy's contemporary LGBTQ book, Incubation: Finding Peace 2, won 3rd Place - Best Gay Erotic Fiction in the 2012 Rainbow Awards. In 2013, Freddy's story, Internment, tied for 3rd Place - Best Gay Fantasy in the Rainbow Awards. Freddy's steampunk/SF story, Feel Me, was a finalist and honorable mention in the 2014 Rainbow Awards for SF. In addition, Freddy's urban fantasy, Snow on Spirit Bridge, was also a honorable mention and finalist for the 2015 Rainbow Awards as well.

Webpage: http://freddysstereograph.weebly.com

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Birthday Guest: Rhae Camdyn

Please welcome my birthday guest - Rhae Camdyn!

Home is Where the Hearth Is

We have a tradition around our home; when it’s your birthday you get to decide the menu for the dinner meal. It wasn’t always this way but penury, joblessness and the economy forced our hand when one year we just couldn’t afford a birthday party. Instead, we made a celebratory meal for the birthday girl (who chose my biscuit-based coffee ring instead of a birthday cake, bless her!)

Thankfully, I’ve always had on hand the makings for each child’s favorite meal. I cook from scratch as there are the ever present allergies and diet restrictions. What I never dreamt of was the creation of gourmet palates from my humble meals born of necessity. Slowly, as the years and the birthdays and the financial stability came along, there was the one year when I turned to child celebrating next to report her favorite restaurant was chock full and I had called too late for a reservation.

Her response? “Mom,” with big blue eyes nearly pleading, “Can I please have your meatballs and spaghetti? I don’t want to get dressed up, not be comfortable, and have to deal with my sisters too.” The Dane came home and I sent him out to get the fresh loaves of French bread I needed to complete the meal. He was happily surprised as well not to be spending the funds, gas and patience required for the restaurant outing. So, taking one of the kids with him, he brought home fresh French bread, a celebratory carton of ice cream and a new movie on CD while I went into the kitchen to make ‘Mama Magic.’ Everyone was happy, the house smelled like the expensive Italian restaurant, and the family was in pajamas and sock feet, zoned out in front of the movie.

I learned to cook at my great-grandmother’s apron strings and both grandmother’s laps. When I was little, my great-grandmother had both a wood-fired oven and a gas stove in her vast limestone floored kitchen. I had my place of honor atop a wooden stool pulled up to her oak work table, and of course I had my very own cheesecloth apron, later replaced by one made from feed bags. (You never threw away feed bags. Ever.)

I learned how to make buttermilk biscuits, peach cobbler, plum preserves, cream cheese frosting and all the fixings for a turkey dinner whilst sitting at that work table. I also learned the love and patience required for feeding your family; it was worked into the fabric of my soul along with churning butter and gathering eggs from the henhouse. Every casserole we baked came with its own lesson in math, marketing and agricultural science; plus a smattering of the magic born of familial recipes.

To this day, although my kids are scattered to the Four Winds and Sacred Directions, they will still call to make sure they have remembered the recipes right to all their favorite meals. Like my Nana and her mother, and all the women we share the lineage with, only a few of those recipes are written down on anything but heartstrings. But when a cold or the flu strikes a dorm mate, or a husband or a close friend, I can count on the phone call with the pleading voice on the other end, “Mom? Am I doing this right? It just doesn’t taste like yours.”

I’ll never be a pastry chef, in fact most of the cakes I’ve attempted would have placed me square in the middle of some reality television version of “Worst Cakes in America.” However, birthday dinners for my beloveds? I can smile and proudly proclaim “I got this.” Oh, yeah….the magic ingredient in all the kitchens I wandered through? Love. Pure and simple as sunshine.

Rhae Camdyn

Sometimes real life has a way of deferring dreams until Fate steps in and says “No” loudly, emphatically, and with a near sense of finality. Rhae Camdyn kept her love of ‘word painting’ as a deeply held secret passion until one day her brain decided that there was just too much blood flow and not enough enjoyment. Her beloved mate and three daughters sighed and reminded her that just because she could no longer count beans and pay other people’s bills, her life was not over. Now was the time to share her quirky sense of humor, storytelling, and exposing naked truth with people beyond their community. The auburn hair is greying, the blue eyes still command attention, being short and slightly nerdy has its advantages. Everything else is subject to change - with or without a giggle of warning. Oh yes, did she tell you? She’s a Texan.

You can find her on Facebook or at her blog site (undergoing revision, please be patient with me!) at rhae-camdyn.com.

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Birthday Guest: Ana Raine

Please welcome my birthday guest - Ana Raine!

I have been exceedingly lucky to have had many exciting birthday parties. For my tenth birthday, I got to ride carnival rides with friends until I felt sick. For my sixteenth birthday, I was up north at a cottage by the water eating cake and be carried around by my much older cousin who pretended to be Harry Potter. And for my twenty-first, I drank several long island iced teas and laughed while my husband and good friends carried me back to my house.

But by far the most important milestone birthday was the year I turned eighteen. I had been dating my now husband for about two months and to celebrate my August birthday, we decided to take a train to New York City with two of my friends. The train ride was long and cramped, but we made it without a hitch. That’s when things got interesting.

I had gotten a bad tip on where to stay and we ended up in a hostel with beds that looked better suited to a hospital horror film. We all slept with our clothes on and carried everything important we could when we left each day. Not to mention, I actually paid cash upfront for the week we were there. Talk about expensive!

After a ton of trips to museums, getting lost in Chinatown, and finding ourselves stranded in the subway at three in the morning in Brooklyn, we finally went home. The reason this was the best birthday milestone is because I finally realized that it was my choice to decide how to live. I didn’t always have to get perfect grades, I wouldn’t always be part of a million school activities, and there would be a lot of mess-ups. Most importantly, I did all of that with my then boyfriend at my side.

I ended up marrying him four months later and we are still together six years later.

 Hidden Wings

Hidden Wings (Book 1)

by Ana Raine (Dreamspinner Press)

Summary:

Kanji is the last royal Kuro swan, an ancient race who once served the demonic Sidhee. The Kuro were betrayed and given as slaves to the Dryma fairies. When a Dryma is born, his soul attaches to a tree and to sustain their lives, the Dryma conscript the Kuro to protect their woods. In their servitude, the Kuro are languishing and dying off. Kanji is desperate to reunite his people with their stolen wings, but the task seems impossible.

When Kanji discovers a plan to unite the Sidhee and the Dryma, he tricks the Sidhee prince and attends a masked ball in disguise. There he meets Prince Tristan, who is nothing like the other fairies. Kind and compassionate, Tristan has a plan to free the Dryma from their dependence on the trees—and their need of the Kuro’s protection. It could mean freedom for Kanji’s people, but it might also mean choosing between them and the life of the fairy who is—impossibly—his mate.

When Tristan is wounded in battle and left for dead, his survival depends on the success of his experiments. Can Kanji dare to believe, or must he come to terms with the loss of his mate?

Buy Link:

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=7326

http://www.amazon.com/Hidden-Wings-Ana-Raine-ebook/dp/B019XB2AUO

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/hidden-wings-ana-raine/1123178753?ean=9781634767507

R-Excerpt

Long ago, the Kuro Swans had been friends with the Sidhee and had offered their wings in service when the soul stealers needed to come to the human world. I tried to make sense of what Christophe was saying and stuttered a response, “Y-you, I mean, you can’t expect us to steal them a soul.”

Christophe played with the buttons of his immaculately tidy shirt. “No, I do not. I simply expect you to deliver this,” he reached into his pocket and produced a white envelope sprinkled with colorful flowers. “They will be arriving the night before the party on the South side of the forest. You will meet them there and present them with this. Afterwards, you will escort them to the Castle De Mar. The envelope contains instructions so should they have questions, they will know who to consult with.”

I swallowed, my lungs dying from a lack of oxygen. “May I ask why you are not meeting them yourselves?”

Christophe stared at me for so long, I thought he was going to tell me to go to hell and reach for his whip looped through his belt. To my surprise, he said, “Ivan, Seth, why don’t you go downstairs and see if Nicolai needs some help. I’m sure Kanji won’t mind speaking to me…alone.”

Zain tensed beside me, but I gave him a nod. Sensing they didn’t have much of a choice, Joel and Zain followed the two guards from the room, the door swinging shut with a soft click.

The music floated up the stairs and the scent of fried food wafted through the floorboards. I rubbed my sweaty hands on my pants and waited for the assault to begin, just like it always did.

“Did you know the Dryma fairies have a long history of deception and trickery?”

My jaw clenched, “I can imagine so.”

“So naturally, we would decide to host a masked ball to celebrate one of our great Prince’s birth.”

“I suppose it does seem fitting.”

“Your kind are not the only ones adverse to forming an alliance with the Sidhee. Having a masked ball where my kind can congregate without fear is the perfect way to introduce the Prince of the Sidhee into our community without opposition.” Christophe paused to pour himself another drink from the crystal pitcher before taking a step towards me. He took a swig of the drink and then set it down on the table. Circling me, I could smell his cologne mixed with the alcohol on his breath. “Sidhees can be ruthless and tend to regard all life as little more than wrongs of a ladder.”

“So why unite with them?”

Christophe parted my hair with his hand so my neck was exposed, my silky strands falling just above my shoulder. He trailed his hands down my back, resting on my shoulder blades and gently manipulating the muscle so a forced relief washed through me. “Kanji, you should know what it can take to survive.”

I flinched as he snaked one of his hands around my stomach and pushed his cool fingers up underneath my shirt and jacket so he could touch my skin. “So you need the Sidhee now?”

“Everything is changing,” Christophe whispered in my ear. “Your lives are tied to the trees just as surely as ours are. So why not stop pretending? I can feel your power in every breath you take. With every movement you make, you are trying to maintain control.”

“That’s not true.”

“You were born to be a Prince,” he said softly, stroking my abdomen and working his way up to my chest. “You’re father was tricked by the Sidhee and yet you bear the burden for him. You don’t even know what occurred.”

“I don’t need to,” I spat. “The fact they betrayed us is enough.”

Christophe made an indifferent noise before wrapping his other hand around my neck and tangling my hair in his fingers so I was trapped. “What do I have to do to get you to give in? I can provide for you, give you things that would make even Dryma fairies jealous. All you have to do is become mine.”

Bio:

Ana Raine writes because she loves to believe in magic, dragons, and that there is more to life than what human eyes can see. Ana lives in Michigan where when it’s not snowy and wet, there are beautiful state parks and lakes to visit. When she was eighteen, she married her best friend and they live with their two cats, Mason and Misaki. Ana has celiac disease, but that hasn’t stopped her from learning how to cook and bake so she can eat tasty treats. Fudge, enchiladas, and anything involving yucca/cassava are her absolute favorite.

Ana has studied in Osaka, Japan where she learned about theater and drama. She would love to go back after she is sure her Japanese is efficient enough. Ana loves anything to do with foxes, especially Arctic foxes. One day, Ana will find a way to incorporate her love of foxes into a novel, but until then, she’ll stay focused on fairies, shape shifters, and mythology.

Feel free to stop by her blog for tasty recipes, freebies, and more.

Blog: anarainebooks.blogspot.com

Twitter: @AuthorAnaRaine

E-mail: anaraine@rocketmail.com

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Birthday Guest - Angel Martinez

Please welcome my birthday guest - Angel Martinez!

Hi everybody and Happy Birthday to Nicole! Forty is fabulous – own it! :D I thought I’d share a little flash fiction scene from my Brandywine Investigations world with Michael the fallen angel and his lover Zagreus, (Zack) who happens to be the son of Hades and Persephone in Greek mythology. What better milestone than Michael’s first birthday party?

Michael stared at the Happy Birthday, Michael banner stretched across the doors to the balcony and let out a shocked laugh. “But I don’t have a birthday.”

Zack wrapped strong arms around him from behind. “Yeah, yeah. Angels don’t have birthdays. Some of us aren’t too sure about ours either, but we all have birthday celebrations. Even if you came into being before there were days, you still did pop into being sometime.”

“So why today?”

Arm movement indicated Zack’s shrug. “It’s kinda the middle of May and you like May?”

Several pairs of divine eyes watched him anxiously. Michael didn’t really understand, but he couldn’t hurt their feelings. “It’s a wonderful idea. Should I…do anything?”

“Nope.” Zack’s youngest cousin, Dionysus, bounded over and took both his hands. “You just set your gorgeous ass—”

“Watch it!” Zack growled.

“Oh, I do, Zackie, believe me.” Dio skipped back a step and ducked the cushion Zack hurled at him. He winked at Michael. “Your boyfriend is a grouch. You sit here. We have, you know, stuff. And things.”

Hades, Zack’s recently divorced father, cleared his throat from where he stood wearing his customary frown. The younger gods settled as if someone had yanked invisible strings. “You’re more than welcome in my new home, Michael. As you have always been welcome. I suppose congratulations on your new…day are in order. Ah…Char?”

Cadaverous and threatening to those who didn’t know him, Michael had gotten over his fear of the ferryman long ago. Charon retrieved a package from behind the counter and offered it to Michael with an elegant bow and a sharp-toothed smile. “His lordship wished to give you a little something on your day. For your new house.”

“Thank you, sir,” Michael murmured as Charon set the box on his lap. He opened the black and silver paper with reverent care to reveal a box of gladiolus corms. “Oh! These will be perfect in the back garden. Thank you!”

“Those are, ah, the first set. New bulbs will arrive every month.” Hades rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the whole birthday celebration notion. “Appropriate to the season.”

“And something smaller from me to go with his lordship’s generosity.” Charon produced a bulb trowel decorated with black ribbon.

“Thanks, Char.” Michael gave him a quick hug in lieu of hugging Hades, since the Lord of the Underworld didn’t need to feel any more awkward.

Zack’s Auntie Hestia came to sit beside Michael on the sofa and handed him a beautifully wrapped package—paper in a ship and seagull design and ribbons perfectly curled. “For you, dear. It’s a lovely house you two bought by the seashore, but my nephew forgets that it gets chilly in the evenings and positively raw in the winters by the ocean.”

The box contained a beautiful cable knit cardigan, soft as lambswool. The gifts nearly overwhelmed Michael – the clever clockwork owl from Hermes, the beautiful swan-shaped andirons for their fireplace from Hephaestus, the pot of wild mint from Artemis – though he managed to regain his composure with Dionysus’s gift. The wild god of wine and orgies and given him a sleek dildo in bright blue. Hermes doubled over laughing, Zack glared at his cousin, and Lord Hades decided he had something to take care of in his office.

“What?” Dio spread his hands in bafflement, his wide velvet sleeves swinging like raven wings. “You can never have too many of those, right?”

Michael patted his arm. “It’s a lovely gift. Thank you. I’m sure Zack will appreciate it in a more, ah, private setting.”

He turned to Zack expectantly, since his hunting god lover had been shifting restlessly for the past twenty minutes.

“What? Agreeing to come see my dad wasn’t enough of a present?”

Michael elbowed him in the ribs, not as hard as he would have liked. “Not nice. You just look like you’re going to climb out of your skin.”

“Fine.” Zack pulled a small present from beneath the coffee table. “It just seems stupid after everyone else’s.”

The box contained a glass suncatcher – a bright red cardinal perched in a blooming forsythia.

Zack cleared his throat. “For the kitchen window. I thought it would be pretty.”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you.” Michael leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Her name is Priscilla.”

“Um, that’s a male cardinal, love.”

Michael gave him a stern look. “She disagrees and insists her name is Priscilla.”

“Got it. So you okay with this being your birthday from now on?”

“It just feels dishonest.” When Zack’s crooked grin slipped further, he hurried to add. “How about an un-birthday? Like the ones in Alice in Wonderland?”

Charon, engaged in distributing slices of chocolate cake to the guests, nodded sagely. “Very good, my young lords. Next year there will be tea, mice and reality-challenged rabbits.”

Brandywine: Open for Business

Amazon All Romance Kobo

Release Date: April 27, 2016

The omnibus edition of re-released titles contains Brandywine 1-3, each story expanded from the original versions.

Brandywine Investigations: Open for Business includes:

Canines, Crosshairs & Corpses: Brandywine Investigations #1
What's a Lord of the Dead to do? His bride of several thousand years has served him with divorce papers and she doesn't just want him out of her life, she wants the palace and the dog, too. 

No Enemy But Time: Brandywine Investigations #2
Zagreus, the son of Hades, and his former guardian angel, Michael, live a quiet life of gardening, animal rescue, and playful sexual experimentation. But lately, strange misgivings have plagued Zack, a sense of something dark and powerful approaching. He will need to battle time itself or lose both his hard-won peace and the love of his immortal life.

Dragons, Diamonds & Discord: Brandywine Investigations #3
The most valuable pieces of jewelry are vanishing from the god Hermes’ Manhattan stores and the security feeds only pick up clouds of smoke. While the god of thieves, messengers, and commerce doesn’t appreciate someone stealing from him, he’s intrigued by this thief’s ingenuity and skill. When he enlists his family to trap his burglar, he gets the surprise of his immortal life.

About Angel Martinez:

While Angel Martinez is the erotic fiction pen name of a writer of several genres, she writes both kinds of queer fiction – Science Fiction and Fantasy. Currently living part time in the hectic sprawl of northern Delaware, (and full time inside the author's head) Angel has one husband, one son, two cats, a changing variety of other furred and scaled companions, a love of all things beautiful and a terrible addiction to the consumption of both knowledge and chocolate.

For more information on Angel’s work, please visit:

Website: http://angelmartinezauthor.weebly.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Angel.Martinez.author

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Twitter: @AngelMartinezrr

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