During the Civil War Joseph Moncure, shifter and newspaper owner, lost the only man he ever loved and he vowed it wouldn’t happen again.
Cal Gilbert, a homeless veteran of the Iraq War, found a purpose in life when he created ‘Rebuild NOLA’, an organization which refurbishes derelict houses for the homeless.
Joseph, tired of purveying the news, decides it’s time to find somewhere else to channel his time and energy. When he learns about ‘Rebuild’ he joins the organization, despite the instant antipathy between him and Cal.
Antipathy turns to grudging respect then friendship between the two men. Now Joseph must decide if he can once again allow love into his life after swearing ‘Never Again’.
Araton has been a guardian angel for less than a century when a moment of distraction causes his human charge to be hit by a car. He expects to be punished – and is surprised to find out there is room for leniency – and even a new job. Will he be any better at being a Christmas angel?
Jake is a former pro-football player whose knee injury has prevented him from fulfilling a lifelong dream. He turns his attention to extreme sports instead. When he falls into an ice cave during a solitary trip just before Christmas he believes it is the end of the road for him. Nothing short of a miracle will save him…
NOTE: This book has been previously released in December 2010. No changes have been made to the story, it is identical to the previous version.
Pulp Friction Presents
A Sweet Exchange Erotic Short
Ian Kerr dreams of the blue-eyed gaze that met his in a strange, still moment on the field of battle. Brodick MacFarland, young and inexperienced, yet old enough to fight for his clansmen, saves a wounded man left for dead by his kin. Now, five years later, Brodick is a trained physician and an adult who knows his own mind. Fortunately for Ian, the clash between the clans still rages on, leaving Brodick fair game. Will Brodick come with Ian of his own accord or will this educated warrior continue to evade capture?
Thunder awoke Ian Kerr from a restless sleep haunted by troubled blue eyes. He wanted to reach out to the owner of those eyes, tell the man that it would be all right. “All right,” he mumbled, forcing heavy lids up. His head felt thick and his vision blurred.
Lying still, he forced himself to assimilate his surroundings as his head and vision slowly cleared. The floor beneath him was earth, the wall he lay against as well. A fire crackled nearby, providing warmth and a dim flickering light. His belly rumbled loudly, echoing the thunder.
Last he’d known, his brother Andrew, and Agnes MacFarland had left him to cover their retreat. How had he come to lie in an abandoned shepherd’s bothy? Still, it was out of the storm that raged outside, and for that he was grateful. A savory scent lingered in the air, and Ian shifted upright to find the source of that enticing odor.
“Ahh…” Agony seared his chest, and he clutched at it, marveling as his fingers found a neat row of stitches. The pain jolted his muddled brain and memories fought slowly to the surface. “The battle…” The damned MacFarlands had left him to die on the roadside when one of their untrained whelps landed a lucky blow with sword he’d been scarce able to lift.
“Aye, easy there.” The soft burr drew his gaze to a thin man in a MacFarland tartan kneeling near the small fire. The youth filled a bowl with pottage and crossed the small space between them. The voice was familiar, the figure strange.
“Where am I?”
“Boden’s old place. I couldna get ye any further from the road. Wasna safe to take ye to the farm.” When the youth knelt and offered him the bowl, Ian was struck by deep blue eyes, the steely blue of the sky before sunset, set in a fine boned face, beardless, thin, fragile nearly, and very familiar.
“Ye’re a MacFarland.” He reached automatically for his blade, though the stripling was hardly threatening in his appearance. Memories stirred of the recently fought battle. Those were the eyes from his dream… “I remember ye from the fight. Ye were in Andrew’s bride’s guard.”
Laughter lurked in the blue eyes before the youth ducked his head. “I’m Brodick MacFarland. Agnes is my sister.” His cheeks flushed slightly, though it could have been a trick of the flickering fire.
Brodick returned to the fire and filled another bowl of pottage for himself. Ian surveyed him cautiously. His instinct said the other man was no threat…but their families were at war. “Ye fetched the doctor for me?” Silently, he ate a few bites of pottage, studying the slim figure, the thin chest and wiry arms. This was no warrior, though he could plainly see the man wasn’t as young as he’d first thought.
Brodick met his gaze again. “I sewed ye up meself. I’m a student at Aberdeen. I’m sorry if ’tis no’ perfectly done. But I didna dare let anyone know you lived.”
Ian nodded. “Why?” This youth hadn’t participated in the mild battle; Ian’s injury had been caused by a startled looking stripling who’d vomited into the heather and thistle at the roadside immediately afterward. Ian’s clansmen had left him, their need to escort Andrew’s bride to safety most urgent. He caught a sidelong glance from Brodick, and something in the darkening gaze sent a flicker of heat to his groin. Clan MacFarland was known for beauty in a land where brawn was prized, Ian wouldn’t have been so smitten with the sainted Agnes, but this one was different…special. Where the other MacFarlands shared his creamy pale skin and plump rosy lips, instead of the deep auburn hair the rest of the MacFarlands sported, this one had been graced with a wild mane of black curls, cropped at the shoulder. Ian’s fingers itched to bury themselves in those curls, to test their silky appearance with his fingertips.
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The day is drawing close for the birth of heirs of the Wolf Throne but Tristan and Ushna have to leave the safety of their ranch and travel back to Georgia and Tribe Enkidu to attend the trial of Craig Stoler’s followers. Tristan claims his birthright before the Council of Five and demonstrates he power before the elders. An attempt on Ushna’s life makes Tristan reevaluate his stance on claiming and they plan to leave for home sooner than anticipated for the longer they stay in Bahbelle, Georgia, the more danger gathers around the royal couple. There are those plotting and planning how to kill Tristan and steal his family. The assistance of a Goddess might even safe him.