Spotlight & Excerpt: And Time Stopped + Giveaway

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And Time Stopped: Dimension 9
by Kristen L. Jackson
(Keeper of the Watch, #3)
Publication date: Kristen L. Jackson
Genres: Contemporary, Fantasy, Young Adult

After a smooth jump to Dimension 9, Chase, Alyx, and chimera pup, Bo, discover that this world’s peaceful existence only extends as far as the local high school. A different kind of battle wages there, and the identity of the school bully is a surprise they never anticipated. When Chase decides they have no choice but to enroll at Dune Harbor High and repeat their senior year, Alyx is less than thrilled. But the two soon discover the influence just one person can have over the decisions, lives, and even deaths, of those around them. While they try to prevent one tragedy, another one unfolds even as Chase unravels one more piece of his family history. What he discovers will leave him reeling, and his life will never be the same.

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Author Bio:

Kristen L. Jackson lives in Reading, PA, with her husband, two grown sons, and four large-breed dogs. She has been a teacher for over 20 years, and writing for children of all ages is close to her heart. Her debut novels KEEPER OF THE WATCH and MAGIC HARBOR (Books 1 & 2) are available now, as well as a novella, DIMENSION KEEPER, which is the prequel to the series. A children’s picture book, JOCELYN’S BOX OF SOCKS, (2019 1st Place Pencraft Award Winner) is also available now. Kristen enjoys writing, reading, and spending time with her family at their cabin in the Pocono Mountains of PA. Follow Kristen on Social Media:

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Book Blitz & Excerpt: All Hell + Giveaway

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All Hell by Katy Hunter

Book 3 in the Half Blood series

General Release Date: 7th June 2022

Word Count: 15,059
Book Length: NOVELLA
Pages: 64



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Book Description

When all hell breaks loose, you call in the angel…

Cal, Travis, Max and new-guy Suriel are on the case. The paranormal convention is in town, and they are the star attraction.

But under the surface, tensions are bubbling. Max feels pushed out, Travis is dealing with a horny little problem and Suriel is in love.

Plus, there’s the little issue of Cal’s evil nemesis trying to take over the depths of Hell, one demon at a time.

Can Cal find harmony in her harem while once again saving the world?

It’s going to be a devil of a job…


The future had been on my mind recently. Right now, for example, unbeknownst to me, imminent death was what fate had planned—and not for the first time today.

“Just tell us where you hid the damn gold.”

I slammed my hands down onto the rickety old wooden desk and peered into his devious little green eyes.

“Fuck you. And fuck your boyband, too,” cackled the little green asshole. “I’ll see you in Hell.”

“Not if I see you f—” The spray hit me in the back of my mouth as I shouted my reply. At first it tickled, almost like a feather or a fluttering butterfly, then bam, my throat seized up. I uttered a mumbled ‘crap’ and fell to the ground. Again.

Damn it. How many hidden poison sprays did one leprechaun have?

I imagine Suriel stepped in to do his magic, because before I knew it, I was staring into his piercing blue eyes as he loomed over me, his mouth on mine, his tongue removing the last of the poison…very, very slowly.

I peered over his curls to see two very pissed off boyfriends. This was the second time that Suriel had needed to give me the literal kiss of life today, and they were not amused. Not least because, as they probably suspected—something I knew to be true—that no tongues or even bodily contact was needed for him to do his thing. A click of his fingers and I would be back in the world of the living. Such was the strength of this devilishly cheeky angel.

“Suriel…” I said into his mouth, making him jump away. “I think I’m good, thank you.” I sat up and looked at Connor, the aforementioned leprechaun. Time to get back to work.

“I’ll take it from here,” said Travis, my delicious demon and crime-solving partner. He rolled up his sleeves and revealed his very impressive biceps. The man only had to look at a bench-press for them to grow another inch wider, much to Max’s chagrin.

My lady parts did a little flutter of admiration. Those deliciously ginormous arms. Sigh. I don’t know if it was due to the life-threatening situations we’d been through over the last couple of years or the fact that we were all going through some stuff at the moment, but I was in love with my boyfriends, like deeply, deeply in love with them.

I couldn’t be in a room alone with any one of them without wanting to just rip their clothes off and ravage them then and there. But this wasn’t the time or the place, and damn it, we really needed to find that gold.

“I’m fine,” I replied, trying to stand up then falling down when everything went a bit pear-shaped.

“Clearly not,” said Max. He helped me to my feet, stuck an arm around my waist and escorted me, rather brusquely, from our makeshift interrogation room. “Travis will get it out of him. He always does.”

I peered over my shoulder to see Travis holding Connor up by the tip of his beard. Maybe Max had a point.

I turned to Max and grinned at him suggestively.

“Really, Cal? You just died…twice. You’re not even a little tired?”

I shook my head and played with the buttons on his shirt. “Is it my fault that I’m in love with the most handsome warlock on the planet? No. It’s your fault for existing.”

He rolled his eyes and feigned exhaustion. “It’s possible to have too much of a good thing, you know?” Then he opened a door, checked to see what was in the room then whisked us both in, throwing me up against the wall and slamming the door behind us. “A quickie—and I’m in charge,” he said before gripping my hair, yanking my head back and smacking his lips onto mine. Oh, bless him. As if he were ever going to be in charge.

He pulled away and snarled a little in delight. His eyes darkened and a sparkle of magic twinkled in them as my G-string tightened around my pussy before slowly gliding down my inner thigh and dropping to my ankles.

He spun me around, pinning me just a little too hard against the cold brick wall. Unzipping himself, he pushed his cock between my butt cheeks and thrust it against my pussy.

He slid his fingers up my back, glided them around my body and grabbed onto my nipples, pulling and flicking them until they hardened to his touch.


We knew each other’s turn-ons, each other’s erogenous zones, completely. I didn’t think I could love this man more.

He sank his lips down onto my neck and bit me, making my head jerk up. Max and I had been playing with pain for a while, pushing each other, going a little too far. My endless desire for him gave us all the time in the world to experiment. Our carnal knowledge of each other expanded with every slap-filled, nibble-induced orgasm.

He traced his fingers slowly up to my wrists then lifted my hands above my head and thrust himself inside me. There was never a need for fussing with condoms and lube when Max was around. He’d worked out how to magically cover his ass—or his dick, in this case—a long time ago. Nobody was getting pregnant on his watch.

I gasped as he plunged into me harder and harder, pummeling into me. There might not be anybody in this room, but someone walking down this corridor would have no doubts as to what was going on in here. I was most definitely getting the banging I’d desired.

He got off on PDA, but I preferred to keep it in the bedroom. My father—as my mother loves to remind me—was a bit of a prude. Mum, on the other hand, coming from a magical family, had no such qualms. Sex, when you’re a witch or a warlock, involves no shame, no judgment. I like to think I inherited a bit of both worlds.

Max let out a gasp. I recognized what it meant. It was his ‘I’m about to come’ sound.

He knew damn well that I needed clitoral stimulation. It wasn’t our first rodeo. He hadn’t even grazed my clit, and this was going way too fast for my liking.

So much for being in sync sexually.

“Max,” I cried out, between gasps. “Touch me!”

He giggled in my ear. “First she wants to be fucked. Now she wants to come, too?” He slowed his rhythm but didn’t make any move toward my clit. “And what if I don’t want to make you come?”

The fight for dominance in our relationship was endless. Max liked to think he was the commanding force between the two of us. Unfortunately, I quite liked to believe that I was the commanding force, too.

I twisted my hands around, grabbed his wrists, thrust back my hips hard enough to make him withdraw, swung myself around and threw him onto the floor with me sitting astride him. “I don’t come, you don’t come,” I said as I sank down onto his dick.

He laughed and pulled his wrists from my grip, putting his hands behind his head and enjoying the ride. “I thought you said I could be in charge.”

“I said no such thing,” I replied as I twirled my pussy against the very base of his cock, rubbing my clit against him and bringing myself to fruition all by myself.

I slowed down as the waves of pleasure coursed through my body, and he sped up underneath me, bouncing me up and down, groaning with pleasure as he brought himself to conclusion.

I flopped down onto him as he lay prostrate on the dusty floor. “Are we fucking or fighting? I can’t quite tell.”

“Both? Neither?” His smile waned. “If you’d just let me dominate you, I wouldn’t have to seek it elsewhere.”

“And where would the fun be in that?” I sat back on my knees and heaved myself up, searching for my underwear. I turned to look down at him. “You’re happy, right? You’d tell me if something was wrong?” He liked our little power struggle, didn’t he? Wasn’t that what it was all about? It had always been like that. Sometimes I held the whip, sometimes he brought out the nipple clamps. He got his need for submissives elsewhere, and that had always been the case. It was what he did—what he’d always done.

Making love to Max was harder than a work-out. The constant play-fighting was what made it different, special. It was what made it ours.

“It’s nothing. I’m being silly. Don’t listen to me,” he said, with a touch of remorse. I gave him a hand and pulled him to his feet. He leaned down and kissed me on the nose. “I love you. I’m sorry. It was great, and I ruined it.”

“Forgiven,” I replied instead of pushing it further. I should have done it. I should have said something then and there.

Before it was too late.

Before I’d almost lost him for good.

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About the Author

Katherine E Hunt

Katy Hunter lives on a mountain in France with her husband, kids and two dogs.

When she’s not writing you can find her curled up in front of the fire, book in one hand and a glass of chardonnay in the other.

Follow Katy on Instagram and sign up to her Facebook reader’s group. You can also find her on Facebook and follow her on Twitter


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Book Blitz & Excerpt: Blood Omen + Giveaway

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Blood Omen by Kegan Tyler

Book 1 in the Blood Crusades series

Word Count: 34,844
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 142



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Book Description

In the dark of the night…

Thomas is a lone shapeshifter living in a world where vampires and lycans are known to man. He has the unique gift of shifting into any living being, but he feels lost and alone.

Then he meets André, the alpha of the Bramwell pack of lycans, who offers him a new life—and a home. Gunter, the pack beta, sees something in Thomas. Their attraction is magnetic and undeniable. Their primal desires take hold and Thomas falls for this beautiful man—hard.

But when a coven of vampires arrives, showing great interest in shapeshifters, Gunter must protect the one he’s grown to love.

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of smoking, the discussion of past sexual abuse, the accidental turning of someone into a werewolf, violence, character death, and scenes of sex whilst in a werewolf-shifted state.


Thomas Allen Wright ascended the steps to the front entrance of his apartment building, sopping wet from the relentless rain and craving a cocktail. He realized as he entered the passcode into the security pad that he’d be walking into an empty apartment, and he would spend the night alone for the first time in a week.

His ongoing affair with Jonathan Greer, a corporate snooze with money and a raucous lifestyle, had come to a screeching halt as of late. For a long while, Jonathan had stayed with Thomas in his apartment, and was always there after Thomas’ late shift at the café. Thomas reminisced fondly about the countless nights they’d shared in each other’s company, all the hot lovemaking they’d indulged in. Jonathan liked to call it ‘fucking’ as he was still putting up a straight-acting façade for his black-tie boys in the office, which, much to Thomas’ discomfort, translated into Jonathan’s day-to-day life as well. And, somehow, it translated to the bedroom.

But perhaps that was why Thomas had been so drawn to him. Jonathan’s macho disposition coupled with his impossibly sculpted tan body made him irresistible. So much so that Thomas had found himself in the most ridiculous situations to be at Jonathan’s beck and call. He was too devoted, and for what? A good lay?

All this swirled in his head as he progressed down the hallway and to the elevator at the far end of the building. He slapped the Up button and waited for it to descend. He set his briefcase down on the checker-patterned carpet and ran his fingers through his dark brown hair, wringing out the excess water dribbling down his leather jacket.

Thomas knew deep down that he was an attractive man with his cerulean eyes and timid smile. But he didn’t believe it himself. He’d often stare at his feet when good-looking men walked past him, or when girls smiled and winked at him on the street.

Like his mane of brown hair, his loafers were unkempt—scuffed, scratched and faded—and their age clearly showed. He looked about thirty, but he never disclosed his real age to anyone, not even his closest lover.

He was a shapeshifter. The animal he transformed into most commonly was a wolf, though he could take on many forms at any given moment. He’d once been a panther, which was his second-favorite creature to shift into. He so often chose a werewolf for the obvious reason—if anyone in the area were to see him in his animal form, he’d not be blinked at more than twice. Werewolves were accepted as part of society now, no longer a myth. If anyone had come across him as a panther, he’d be on the local news and, more than likely, a hunt would be called. How unusual it would be to see an exotic animal that was most prominent in the jungle in the Great Lakes. Lycans had been ‘out’ to the world for about ten years at this point, so he figured he’d blend in posing as one.

Perhaps the most useful part of his unique gift was the ability to not just shift into an animal but to shift into another person. He had first discovered this when he was twelve, in the bathroom stall of his middle school. A bully, whose name he’d long since forgotten, had maneuvered him into the girls’ room and was taunting him, shouting obscenities at the top of his lungs and banging on the stall door with his meaty fists. Desperate for an escape, little Thomas had shifted into Becca, a classmate he was friends with, and pranced out of the girls’ room, laughing under his breath at the look on his bully’s face when she exited the stall instead of him.

This became a fun little game in his youth, and it had expanded in adulthood. By now he’d adopted the appearances of some ten or eleven figures, a couple of them celebrities, and he had found it amusing to trick and confuse those around him. He quite enjoyed living someone else’s life now and then.

The result of this special ability was that he had an alter ego. Evan Winston was his name, and he was a British scholar from Edinburgh on visa in the United States to study biology at the University of Wisconsin in Oshkosh. Or so he told people. A completely fictional character with an appearance Thomas had appropriated from a fashion model in the UK, Evan was blond-haired, blue-eyed, and had a nice large cock which was useful in bed. Thomas’ own was a bit smaller with a modest girth, and this, paired with his prominent ass, meant that he bottomed all the time…in his true form. As Evan, he enjoyed the pleasure of being on top and having a sizable eight-inch cock. What a dream it was to be Mr. Evan Winston.

Jonathan did not know Evan, and Thomas intended to keep it that way. As a personal rule, he never used his trickery on those closest to him. Presently, the two people that met that criterion were Jonathan and his best friend Shalese.

One other secret that Thomas carried with himself was that he could never visibly age past where he was. His real age was sixty-two, though every time he shifted back to himself, he looked about thirty. He had the most coveted ability in all human existence—immortality, or at least that’s what he considered it. He had the pleasure of watching the world evolve around him, passing through multiple generations while maintaining an appearance much younger than all he interacted with. He’d see friends age and once they noticed that he looked the same as he did when they first met him, it was time to pack up his life and relocate. He’d traveled from New York City, where he was born, to Sacramento and all places in between. For a brief time, he’d lived on the Mediterranean coast, but had decided that the community was too closely knit. Others looked at him with suspicion, and he suspected that several of the city residents knew what he was. He had lasted five months there.

When Thomas touched a living being, the DNA of that life form would transfer to him, and his body would keep a record of that form at that point in time—the age, the shape… Everything about that being as it was when he touched it, he would transform into. He could shift into a variety of life forms, such as a snake, a dove and a Northern cardinal.

He’d never forget the time he met his childhood crush, Ava Charlotte, in person. A superstar pop icon, she had been much more reserved and humble than he’d imagined. He’d shaken her hand, and she’d given him the warmest smile in passing. She was thirty-four at the time, so whenever he shifted, she looked the same as she was that day. He carried the memory with him fondly and would shift into her physique every now and then to remember it.

He’d seen all kinds of men from all parts of the United States, and he’d gotten pretty good at guessing what their cocks looked like. He estimated he’d slept with close to seven hundred men throughout the country. His favorite were the solid boys with a southern drawl and an appetite for ass. They always had the nicest cocks. It was the Jersey boys and the surfers that had the most obnoxious personalities, and the smallest penises.

Thomas reached his apartment door and dug into his pocket for his keys, brushing against the head of his half-hard cock. He fumbled for the right key and, as he slid it in, it reminded him of the times he’d don Evan Winston and slide into those beautiful country boys. He overheard a conversation between a police officer, Thomas’ landlord and the tenant of apartment five. The man was irate, shouting something about an intruder shattering his balcony door. The officer asked if anything was stolen, to which the man said no, not that he could see. The landlord muttered a comment about not paying for the damages. When the man’s voice raised an octave, Thomas took that as his cue to hide.

He flung the door open and closed it behind him, then shed his clothes, tossing them to the floor. He slumped down onto the black sofa and played with himself, fantasizing about Jonathan and the way he so expertly made Thomas come while giving him oral.

Thomas was aware of the fact that he lived in Jonathan’s shadow, and no amount of pity or self-reliance could change that. His mind was always glued to Jonathan’s body, to his full, pink lips, to his sizable prospect too often concealed behind slim jeans. When he came on himself, he ran his fingers through the fresh hot cum and imagined Jonathan’s sensual hands sliding along his torso. Then he envisioned Jonathan spreading his ass and nuzzling his crevice into Thomas’ face. As he fantasized about licking Jonathan’s tight hole, his eager hand traced his abdomen and reached for his cock again, working it until he came a second time.

In a daze, he rolled off the couch and grabbed his nearby shirt, using it to clean himself off. Then he grabbed his other forgotten clothes and stashed them in his laundry basket just inside the bedroom. He dipped into the bathroom and indulged in a hot shower, all the while letting Jonathan’s hypnotic trance take over him.

After he’d stepped out of the shower and dried off, he wrapped the damp towel around his waist then reached into the pocket of his jeans in the basket for his phone. He looked up Jonathan’s contact and dialed.

Four rings later, he was greeted with a melancholy woman. “Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice message system…” He pressed the End button and tossed the phone onto his bed in a mild fit of annoyance. Of course, whenever he wanted to get ahold of Jonathan, he was never available. But the second Jonathan wanted to get ahold of him, Thomas answered at the first ring.

He knew he was too tied up in this delusion that he and Jonathan were meant to be, or rather that they were good together, which in itself was a fallacy. He knew for a fact that Jonathan couldn’t give a damn about him and what he spent his time doing. He guessed that if Jonathan knew that he thought of him so often, he’d probably either shrug it off or ditch him altogether. This thought ravaged Thomas’ mind as he made himself a vegetable stir-fry.

As he was about to dish up the food, his cell phone rang. Eagerly, he bolted into the bedroom and answered. The rough, sexy voice on the other end was unmistakable.

“What’s up?”

“Hey, Jonathan,” Thomas said with a sigh. “What are you doing tonight?”

“I just got back from a twelve-hour day,” Jonathan grumbled. He sounded worn. “Mounds of paperwork and bitchy clients. My head fuckin’ hurts.”

“I bet it does,” Thomas sympathized. Then, feeling ballsy, he said, “Would a blow job help?”

Jonathan sighed, and there was a brief pause. Then he said, “Yeah, it would. I’ve been thinking about your ass all day. I want it.”

“Come over. I’m making stir-fry.”

Another sigh. “I can’t drive.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m a little drunk,” Jonathan confessed.

“Already? When did you get home?”

“Yeah, already. About an hour ago. Downed five shots and I’m on my second beer.”

“How about I bring the food over to you?”

“Mmmmh,” Jonathan moaned. Thomas imagined he was biting his lip. “Sex and free food. Sign me up.”

“I can be there in twenty.”

“Make it fifteen.” Click.

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About the Author

Kegan Tyler

Kegan Tyler was born in Pennsylvania in 1993. He has always been a creative—at the age of eight, he created a comic book series, and he wrote his first novel at age fourteen. His love of vampires and werewolves paired with his love of gay erotica resulted in his passion project, The Blood Crusades.

He enjoys pop music, horror flicks, Halloween, science fiction, the works of Stephen King, and video games. In his writing, he strives to represent LGBTQIA+ individuals. You’ll find his works full of LGBTQIA+ characters living their lives passionately and with conviction.

He lives in Wisconsin.


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