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Tuesday, November 25, 2025

Read Forgotten Mate by Beth D Carter #Contemporary #Romance #Shifter

  


Forgotten Mate
Sheridan Pack Book 3

Key Words: 

Shifter, PNR, Fantasy Romance, Short Romance Read, Werewolves, Alpha Male

Synopsis:
Greyden James. The mate who walked away after one night together. The man who almost destroyed her life. Zenia Zierdan works hard to keep a tight rein on her depression and anxiety. Working for the alpha helps her maintain a purpose within the pack. But everything changes the moment she scents vanilla and cedar and comes face to face with the man who walked away.

Greyden is confused why a strange woman smells exactly like his mate. When he discovers he’s been a victim of a black magic spell, he’d do anything to get his memories back.

Only through the power of true love can they find a happy ever after. Even as they both come to terms with the guilt they harbor.

Get It Now:

Excerpt:

“Why do you smell like my mate?”

The deep voice froze her in her tracks. It couldn’t be him. No. No, no, no. She had to be hallucinating because he could not be here in Sheridan. She sucked in her breath, sure she had to be imagining him. She didn’t want to look, didn’t want to acknowledge him, and yet she had to. Slowly, she turned and like a horror show, her nightmare stared at her in confusion. Greyden James. The mate who walked away after one night together. The man who almost destroyed her life.

“Well?” he asked impatiently. “Why do you smell like my mate?”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Backing up until the counter halted her retreat, she kept shaking her head. As if that alone would get rid of him.

“Are you mute? Do you not understand the question?”

“Hey,” Keegan said loudly. She came around the counter to stand between her and him. “Back off, buddy.”

“She smells like my mate. I just want to know why.”

“I … I…” Zenia’s heart raced as she tried to draw air into her desperate lungs.

Greyden tilted his head, studying her. “Is she okay?”

Zenia shook her head. She was lightheaded, dizzy from lack of oxygen. Her legs gave out and she slowly crumpled, sliding down to sit.


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The Complete Series

  


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Who am I?

Beth D. Carter grew up in Missouri and began writing at a very young age after being influenced by her mother's very naughty romance novels.

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I like writing about the very ordinary girl thrust into extraordinary circumstances, so my heroines will probably never be lawyers, doctors, or corporate high rollers. I try to write characters who aren't cookie-cutter and push myself to write complicated situations that I have no idea how to resolve, forcing me to think outside the box. Music inspires me and each story has its own signature song.

I am a full-time writer and stay-at-home mom which means I watch a lot of animated movies. Over and over again. I hate washing dishes but I love cooking. I hate washing clothes but I love wearing them. Writing my bio is difficult because I never know what to say so I hope you like this one. My favorite color is red but I look best in black (it's slimming). I hate people who don't pick up their dog's crap in public places, people who don't use turn signals, and I really hate people who are rude and condescending. I especially hate discrimination in all and every form. And although I love holding a book in my hand, I absolutely adore my e-reader, whom I've named Ruby. So many books at the touch of a button! I love to hear from readers so I've made it really easy to find me on Facebook or Twitter or email me at: beth@bethdcarter.com.

Stalk Me


Monday, November 24, 2025

Read Can't Get You Out of My Bed by Isla Olsen #MMRomance #ForcedProximity #SecondChance

  


Can't Get You Out of My Bed

Love & Luck Series Book 6

Key Words: 

MM Romance, Rom-Com, HEA, Best Friends Brother, Closeted Celeb, Second (or seventh) Chance, Secret Love Affair, Roommates, Forced Proximity, Pansexual

Synopsis:

Ben
Aidan Kelly. To everyone else in the world, he’s the star of a successful extreme travel show, but to me, he’s the one that won’t go away.
It started with one of those typical high school crushes on my best friend’s older brother, which turned out to be not entirely unrequited…
There was that time just after high school where someone (not me) may or may not have hurled all over someone else’s c*ck. Then there was that incident in Austin where…well, let’s just say it gave a whole new meaning to the term ‘bull-riding’. And let’s not forget that little thing with the rental car…

But it doesn’t matter how good the sex is, or how deep the attraction is, Aidan and I are just never going to work. There’s the distance for one, and the fact that one of us (not me) is a closeted celebrity…and that’s all without going into how whenever we’re in the same place we just can’t seem to stop from hurting each other. And not just in the good way…

The only option to maintain my sanity is to avoid Aidan and force myself not to think about him. But that’s easier said than done when—thanks to my best friend’s misguided ‘help’—we end up living in the same freakin’ apartment…
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More in the Series



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Who am I?

Isla is a cocktail-loving, history-obsessed Aussie who writes low-angst, high-heat queer romantic comedy.

She is best known for the Love & Luck series and P.S. I Loathe You.

Some of Isla's favorite tropes include: Friends to lovers, queer-awakening, age gap, enemies to lovers, best friend's/sibling's ex, secret fling...and many more!

Fun Facts about Isla:
If she had a time machine she'd go to London on July 13, 1985, to see Live Aid.
She's travelled to 44 different countries 
If she could re-live any year of her life it would be 2000
Her all-time favourite books are Cassandra Clare's Shadowhunters world
Her all-time favorite movie is Gladiator
Her all-time favorite TV show is Friends
Her all-time favorite song is "Live Forever" by Oasis, and she has the title tattooed on her forearm
The five people she'd invite to a dinner party are Neil Patrick Harris, JFK, Courtney Act, Miranda Hart, and Freddie Mercury

Stalk Me


Wednesday, November 19, 2025

"Do you have a specific person in mind when you write?"

  


People often ask me that when I talk about my books and the characters my muse and I create. To be honest, I love watching movies and TV shows, so I know many actors and actresses. When I introduce a new character, aside from the usual ones in my series, I am open to my mind's suggestions. My muse and I create an outline for each character, including their age, appearance, behavior, and the role they play in the story. However, while I write, a suitable actor or actress might come to mind. From that moment on, I stick to that image and go with it. The bigger the character, the more chances I have to refine the scenes and adjust the character's behavior to my mental image. I still deliver on the character’s intentions, but it’s much more fun when I have a specific person in mind.

 

Here's an excerpt from Chosen Brothers (Book Four in the series with Jacklyn & Nick). I would like to read your proposals for who should play Joanne.

Have fun!

 

Excerpt

 

The door opened, and a lady of about forty years with a fashionable light brown bob entered the room. She smiled amiably as she took off her gloves and adjusted the purse on her left arm.

Mr. Steward’s face lit up with a genuine smile. “Hello, Joanne, nice to see you.”

“You, too, Herb.”

“You’re early today.”

“I guess so. The usual, please.” She pointed toward a table further down the room but came to the bar to stand beside Nicolas. “And his drinks are on me.”

Her smile was an invitation and a challenge—a tempting mix of class and sexiness. Nicolas had seen her from afar, but up close, she was a good-looking woman, neither overweight nor slender, with carefully applied lipstick and eyeliner. She scrutinized Nicolas’s face for a few moments with the interest of an adventurer looking for a new quest.

“Thanks, but…why?” Nicolas asked.

“Come with me, and I’ll explain.” She made a gesture toward her table. Mr. Steward was already on his way to deliver a cocktail with mint on top in a highball glass. Nicolas took his beer and set the glass down quickly enough to move the chair for her.

“Oh, I’m surprised. And impressed.” She sat down and put her gloves and the purse on the side of the table. “I hadn’t expected manners in such a boorish place.” She winked at Mr. Steward, whose forced smile didn’t reach his eyes. She added in a mock whisper, “No, he won’t be my friend tonight.”

Nicolas took the chair on the other side of the small table. “I’m Nick—”

“Murray, I know.” She lifted her glass. “Here’s to you being here with me and not in lockup.”

Nicolas raised his beer, surprised at the revelation. “I’ll drink to that—my savior, obviously.”

“Not really, but I’ll take the compliment anyway.” She licked her upper lip, and he could tell by her glance she was out for more than a quick drink at the bar.

“Would you mind explaining—”

“Of course not.” Her smile brightened the entire room. She put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her folded hands as she studied him. “I watched you work, as you might’ve noticed, and then the next day, you were gone. I wondered what happened, and I asked around.” She shrugged elegantly. “It wasn’t hard to get the right answers.”

“You’re friends with the staff?”

Joanne waved her hand. “I’m friends with everybody. If you treat people like valuable human beings and not like dirt, they respect you. I needed about fifteen minutes to find out where you’d been taken.”

“You told old man Turner about me.”

Joanne chuckled. “Never call Jacob an old man. He would still father children if Mary was still alive. He considers himself at a fantastic age. Yes, he’s got arthritis, but his mind is sharp as ever.”

“My apologies, Mrs. Turner.”

“Joanne. Jo, for my friends.” She appeared to be enjoying the conversation as she sipped her drink and stared at him. “You might call me Jo.” When he didn’t reply, she set down the glass and cocked her head. “Tell me what happened. And be honest. I put some pieces together, but I’d like to hear the story from you.”

Nicolas frowned. “Why do you want to know anything about me?”

“The circumstances are self-explanatory.” She waved away his question. “Please, tell me what happened to you.”

“I was accused of stealing, but the accusation didn’t hold up. Jebediah didn’t believe me and locked me up in a stall in the old stable.”

Joanne frowned and pointed at his chafed wrists. “That’s a cheap and much too short story. I bet there’s more to it. You look like you caught some punches, and from what I’ve heard, you offered them quite a fight and almost won.”

Nicolas lowered his gaze and exhaled, both hands around the cold beer glass. The memory of the night in the cage haunted his mind like a weight on his shoulder that was gone but still tangible.

“You twisted Tyrone’s wrist. It’s not broken, but bandaged nevertheless. He won’t be using it for weeks.” Joanne shrugged. “He’s whining like an old man. Jeb took some hits, too, but doesn’t talk about it. He runs around bearing a grudge the size of Richmond, and quarrels with everyone.” She cocked an eyebrow. “I’d recommend you lie low for a while.”

“Mr. Turner said he’d talk with Jeb.”

“Oh, that’s good.” She nodded so vehemently that her golden earrings danced. “If the old man…pardon, the lively, vigorous patriarch takes charge, there’s no denial, no back talk, and no delay. Jebediah will follow his order. That means you’re safe.”

“Why does Jacob have such an influence? After all, he’s more than seventy years old, and couldn’t wrestle Jebediah to the ground.”

“No, but it looks like you tried that. Anyway,” she said with a wave of her hand. “He’s the one who leads this family, and he can get really pissed. Pardon my French. He had a disagreement with my husband, and instead of enduring Jacob’s permanent browbeating, Solomon opened a law firm in Richmond. He said it’s for the best to keep a distance. That tells you something about my father-in-law.” She sighed and tried to cover her sadness with her drink. “These days, my husband’s home for about three weeks a year. By the way, this is a Gin-Gin Mule. I learned to love it in New York.” Another, even deeper sigh. “Those were the days. If you want to try one, I can order it for you.”

“I’ll stick with beer.”

“But you aren’t drinking.”

“I’m listening.” Nicolas smiled encouragingly.

Joanne took the invitation like a lost girl in the street that’s cheered by a friendly stranger. “That’s flattering.” Joanne took another sip of her drink.

·         *

Later, Nicolas lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling, reflecting on the evening.

Joanne hadn’t made her intention a secret. When he crossed the threshold to her rooms, she had taken off her tailored jacket, lost her shoes on the way to the bar, and dropped her purse and gloves on a small table against the wall. She offered him another beer, and when he didn’t follow her into the apartment, she stood, frowning. Then slowly, understanding that he wasn’t about to spend the night with her crossed her face.

“You aren’t coming, huh?” she asked as she pushed back a strand of hair behind her ear. “Afraid of a married woman? Afraid that my husband will show up and try to throw you out?” On the way back toward the door, she made a dismissive gesture. “Don’t worry. After spending a day here, he’s already on his way home—back to his normal life in Richmond, back to what he calls his fulfillment in life.” She cocked her head. “I can’t convince you to stay?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Oh, it’s back to ma’am? What a pity. I like Jo much more.” She curled her lips to a smile. “A gentleman through and through, huh? Can’t say that I’m surprised. But I’m still disappointed. I did have expectations for the night.”

“You’re too valuable for a one-night-stand, Jo. You’re a wonderful woman and a good wife. You’re also a good daughter-in-law, faithful to the old man. I’m not—”

Joanne put a finger on his lips. “Don’t say you aren’t worth sleeping with me, Nick, because that’s BS. I made advances at you, not the other way around. I wanted you right here—or a little bit closer and with less clothes—and you knew that when you took the seat at my table.”

He smiled and cast down his eyes. The same moment, she stood on tiptoes to kiss him tenderly. Surprised, and yet flattered, Nick returned the kiss, then stepped back and wished her a good night.

* * *  *

 

Find my books at extasybooks.com and at various online bookstores. Paperbacks are available for many books on Amazon.

Visit my website: annraina.com

Follow me on Instagram: ann_raina_author

Tuesday, November 18, 2025

New Release

 Did you get it? 

New and improved Backdraft! Both inside and out... 

One weekend five years ago, they had an unforgettable fling.
An affair with no commitments.
The past returns with the fury of a backdraft now that they’ve encountered each other again.

Andrea Trask is a tough, no-nonsense fire marshal, always in control of the fire scene and her life. A tragic fire as a child made her this way. She doesn’t back down to anyone or anything, even when she’s threatened in her new job.

Dr. Taylor Peel was a top ER doc and trauma surgeon. After two tragic deaths rock his very foundation, he finds solace as a medical examiner–the dead can’t die–where his expertise can help those traumatized by tragedy heal.

A fatal fire brings Andrea and Taylor back together, forcing them to work side by side. They can’t ignore their affair, despite the pact they made–that it was a one-time fling with no commitment. When Andrea’s life is threatened, Taylor is driven to protect her. She must rely on him, and with Andrea’s life in his hands, Taylor is faced with having to trust himself again.




Sunday, November 16, 2025

Those Ideas for a Book That Didn’t Take Off


   Every writer — and potential writer — has them: manuscripts that were inspired, that had a great story, that were begun with enthusiasm… then fizzled out. We write ten pages, twenty, even a hundred, then all are shunted into a back drawer and forgotten (more or less).

   Twenty-five years ago, I was visiting my friends Catherine and Hervé in Murcia, Spain. I had a lovely room with a long window looking out onto a broad beige plain; along one wall was a huge old wooden writing desk; and I had hours of free time because my host and hostess worked for most of the day. This, I decided, was the right time to begin working on a new novel. My first romance, Felicity’s Power, had just been published in Australia, and I was enthusiastic about writing another for the same (now defunct) publisher.

  The theme was one I had been thinking about for many years; I had the beginning; I had the end; I had the hero — David; the heroine — Patty Jo; I had whole chunks of the story in my head. What could stop me? On that first day, I worked all morning, then went out for a lovely lunch of tapas at a local bar and an afternoon of walking.

   That evening at the dinner table, Hervé asked about my romance. What was it about? I told him, and he looked surprised.
“That’s no romance. A romance should be light-hearted, hopeful.”
“But…” Then I shut up. He was right, wasn’t he? I was a mere novice, but even I knew that Patty Jo’s story might never fit into the romance category. Or would it?

Over the next few days, I fooled around with what I had written, trying to see what I could do with it. Then, my holiday came to an end. The first pages of Patty Jo remained first pages, tucked into a corner of my computer.

The years passed; beloved computers died; files were lost; other books were written; but the pages of Patty Jo lingered in one of the very many unloved folders. And on one idle day, some five or six years ago, I looked at the pages again.

   
No, Patty Jo wasn’t strictly a romance, but it would still make a good story. Why start with a category in mind? Why bash something into a shape it wasn’t meant to have? Why end up frustrated?

    So, Words for Patty Jo began taking shape. Yes, it needed an awfully long time to come to fruition—I was doing research in Eastern and Central Europe; I published other romances and non-fiction books; and I wasn’t certain that what I had written was any good. I wanted beautiful, singing phrases, images that would titillate, and heart-clutching incidents. Believe me, I can’t, for the life of me, count how many revisions the manuscript has gone through, how many words were changed until the perfect one glowed in the right place.

      But here it is, finally. And I love it. It’s my beautiful baby, the cover by Teddi Black is glorious, and I’ll get the ARC from the Wild Rose Press in a few weeks.

    No, it’s not totally a romance, not totally women’s fiction, not totally literary… What is it? I’ll let someone else decide.

Jill (J. Arlene) Culiner
https://www.j-arleneculiner.com






Saturday, November 15, 2025

Someone else’s memories buzzing to the surface

Status: Pulse stable. Respiratory functions approaching baseline. Someone else’s memories buzzing to the surface.

I sit at the edge of a pier, between a cormorant preening with its orange beak, and a white fluffy dog sniffing a river-damp coil of rope. It’s quiet here. Few people, no crackle of radiation detectors, no smell of burnt rock and human effusion. Just old jazz music drifting from a shop along a busy promenade, distant ducks and insects calling, wooden boat hulls knocking, and water lapping at pylons below. Water that’s safe to touch.

An old couple stands nearby. The woman wears a gold and black qipao tinted pink by sunset; it looks like a relic out of time. Her silver hair is pulled and pinned in a vintaged style. She turns away, nestled in the arm of the old man. He wears a beige suit and matching hat. His hand rests at her waist, fingers pinching the fine fabric at her hip.

The perfect picture of a lasting love. Something about his voice reminds me of you.

Qing.

One word: my name. A call from Origin through the neural lace grafted to my brain and nerves, connecting me to another place in another time. A reminder of what I’m here to do.

I clutch a bottle cap; its sharp metal edges ground me in the present. It’s funny, don’t you think, to consider this moment the present, as if the past and future I came from aren’t supposed to exist? If you were here, I’d ask. You’d smile and kiss my forehead and say you love my nonsense questions.

But you’re not here. They want me to forget you ever were.

✨ Until We Met Again is now available from most e-book retailers 


JL Peridot writes love letters to the future on devices from the past. Visit jlperidot.com for the full catalogue of her work or subscribe to Dot Club for a collection of her tiny stories.

Thursday, November 13, 2025

Older Main Characters in Fiction

I’m noticing more older main characters in fiction, even though I know there have always been mature main characters. I wasn’t paying attention to that until I got older. Now I can relate to them. Things like needing reading glasses and dealing with aches and pains are part of my life now. I recall a funny moment from the violent Sons of Anarchy show where the evil, controlling mother was trying to hotwire and steal a car. She had to get her readers out so she could see.



Since I’m still recovering from my health scare, I haven’t returned to the book I was working on yet, but I have been editing for other authors. A small-press publisher hired me for three jobs, and keeping busy is helping me get back on track. So far, two of the books have older main characters.

It is refreshing to see stories featuring older main characters in books and on TV. Sometimes, though, watching these elderly people struggling with daily life is hard to take in. One recent example is the documentary on Ozzy Osbourne’s last couple of years and his final weeks. It was a great accounting of how much he went through after breaking his neck in a fall and then his final weeks planning his farewell concert. The documentary was both humorous and heartbreaking. One line stood out. “I used to take pills for fun. Now I take them to stay alive.”

I’m at that age now where watching an older person struggle is difficult to handle, but it’s part of life.

I’d prefer to see these mature characters running around like a 63-year-old Tom Cruise in his latest Mission Impossible movie. It’s inspiring to see that, but everyone ages differently, and everyone has a different story to tell. Even the daily struggles are inspiring in their own tragic way.


Escapt to a world of enchantment and passion.