They say when the night’s too dark and the forest too quiet… that’s when the wendigo is near.
As far as monsters go, the wendigo is pretty terrifying. It stalks the frozen wilderness, a specter of hunger that can never be satisfied, with an appetite for human flesh.
Legends say that those who are desperate enough to engage in cannibalism when on the brink of starvation can transform into this beast. The wendigo myth emerges from Algonquian tribes across the northeastern woodlands of North America. The legends were cautionary tales in places with harsh winter climates where survival was hard and starvation was always a concern.
Since the Until Dawnmovie came out recently, I wanted to look into wendigo lore. This is about all I can handle because horror and I don’t go together too well. The movie is guaranteed to be too scary for me. The video game looked interesting and I even watched some videos about it, but I was not brave enough to actually play… and I’m not much a PC gamer.
The wendigo’s origins can be traced back to the Anishinaabe, Cree, Ojibwe, Innu, and other Algonquian-speaking tribes across Canada and the northern United States.
Early European settlers and fur traders documented these stories in the 19th century, often with a mixture of dismissal and fascination. But those who spent enough winters in the northern forests began to understand why the wendigo held such power in indigenous consciousness. When blizzards howl for weeks and food stores dwindle, the human mind can wander to dark places.
Unlike many monsters that simply prey on humans, the wendigo represents what humans can become when they surrender to their basest instincts.
Picture this: a gaunt, towering figure with ash-gray skin stretched tight over a skeletal frame. Eyes sunken deep into hollow sockets, yet burning with an insatiable hunger. Lips torn and bloody from feeding. Claws that can rend flesh from bone. In some descriptions, the wendigo’s heart is made of ice and literally frozen solid. The modern image of the wendigo often includes antlers or a deer skull for a head.
What’s particularly terrifying about the wendigo is that it grows with each victim it consumes, yet it never feels satisfied. Its hunger only increases proportionally to its size. Constantly hungry and never full despite feasting, this is the stuff monsters and metaphors are made of.
Wendigos may be accompanied by bone-chilling cold or a putrid stench like decaying flesh. Nature itself seems to recoil from the creature’s presence, birds fall silent, small animals flee, and even the wind seems to hold its breath.
Transformation and Powers
The transformation from human to wendigo typically follows one of two paths: either consuming human flesh during times of famine triggers a physical metamorphosis, or a wendigo spirit possesses a vulnerable person, usually someone weakened by greed, despair, or isolation.
In traditional lore, the wendigo embodies winter’s cruelty. It can manipulate temperature, bringing killing frosts or blizzards. Wendigos are smart predators, luring victims away from safety by mimicking the voice of a loved one calling for help in the darkness. Some stories grant it supernatural speed, allowing it to stalk prey for days without tiring.
Protections and Weaknesses
Traditional protections against wendigos were primarily preventative. Don’t travel alone during the deadliest part of winter. Don’t speak the creature’s name unnecessarily. Maintain strong community bonds that prevent the isolation where wendigo possession takes root.
Some later stories mention fire or silver as wendigo weaknesses, possibly influenced by European werewolf lore. Indigenous traditions emphasized spiritual remedies administered by healers or medicine people for those showing early signs of wendigo transformation.
Media Appearances
Supernatural featured the creature in its first season, emphasizing its voice mimicry and twisted appearance. The TV show Hannibal made subtle nods to wendigo lore throughout its run, with the titular character’s murderous cannibalism visualized through wendigo imagery. (Sidenote: I really wanted to watch Hannibal because I loved Bryan Fuller shows and tried to watch, but the cannibalism squicked me out too badly. I gave it another shot due to all the queerness but still couldn’t do it. Maybe one day.)
Gaming has perhaps embraced the wendigo most enthusiastically. In addition to 2015’s Until Dawn, Fallout 76 incorporates them into its post-apocalyptic landscape. The creature appears in everything from The Dark Pictures Anthology to various Marvel games.
Historical Sightings & Scientific Explanations
One of the most documented wendigo-related incidents involved Swift Runner, a Cree man who killed and ate his family during the winter of 1879. He claimed to be possessed by a wendigo spirit, and while authorities attributed his actions to starvation-induced madness, his community recognized the pattern of wendigo possession.
Skeptics point to severe nutritional deficiencies, isolation-induced psychosis, and protein poisoning (sometimes called “rabbit starvation”) as potential scientific explanations for historical wendigo cases. When the body consumes its own fat reserves during starvation, the resulting ketosis can cause hallucinations and irrational behavior.
Oral traditions contain numerous accounts of humans transforming into wendigos, as well as stories of brave individuals hunting these creatures. The “First Dog” legend describes how dogs came to be human companions after helping to defeat a wendigo. Not surprising. Dogs are the best.
Quotes and Literary Excerpts
The wendigo’s journey from indigenous oral tradition to pop culture staple began in earnest with Algernon Blackwood’s 1910 short story “The Wendigo.” Blackwood captured the psychological dread perfectly with lines like “An old Wendigo broke through… slender as a sapling, yet gaunt as famine.”
Beyond Blackwood’s famous description, wendigo lore has inspired powerful language across literature. A Cree legend describes the wendigo’s endless hunger: “It grows with each life it eats—but still, it starves.”
Stephen King, in “Pet Sematary,” writes: “The Wendigo, that creature that comes to you in the pitiless winter…that makes you eat your own flesh and grow huge…and still be hungry.”
These quotes capture what makes the wendigo uniquely terrifying: it’s hunger personified and it’s not just a monster that eats you; it’s a monster you become.
Final Thoughts
The wendigo is a chilling reminder that under extreme circumstances the line between humanity and monstrosity can blur. It speaks to our deepest fears about hunger, isolation, and desperation. The most frightening monsters aren’t those that simply hunt us, they’re the ones we might become.
Who is the toughest predator in paranormal romance novels?
The paranormal world is full of fearsome monsters and super strong creatures. That’s the cool part of writing M/M in this genre. Anything is possible.
So, who are the contenders for being the toughest? There are the werewolves with sharp fangs and rock solid abs howling at the moon. Or vampires, pale beauties who are strong and deadly and somehow make drinking blood seductive. And wizards who can shape the world with a snap of their fingers.
And in addition to being powerful, these supernatural men also happen to be incredibly sexy for some reason. Maybe because I write paranormal romance.
Which one is strongest? Which wouldn’t you want to meet in a dark alley? Which one would you like to take home with you? That’s up for debate.
For me, it’s hard to beat an alpha werewolf that will destroy all obstacles to protect their mate. (Again, I read and write paranormal romance. No surprise that alpha werewolf ranks as the strongest for me.)
But do you know what’s truly scary? Lightning. Like real, actual lightning. Not sure an alpha werewolf could stand up to it, to be honest. This is something I learned when writing my magical novel, Strikes Twice. The two leading men will have their work cut out for them if they want to overcome magical lightning and find a happy ending together.
Why is lightning such a worthy adversary?
While the novel deals with lightning and the elements in a more magical and fictional way, I got curious and did some research. Since I’m not actually trying to make you terrified of leaving the house, I went with two very scary sounding lightning facts:
Lightning bolts can get five times hotter than the sun.
Lightning moves about 30,000 times faster than a bullet.
But don’t freak out. You’d think something hotter than the freaking sun and faster than a bullet would be ultra lethal, but it hurts more people than it kills. And not many people actually get struck by lightning.
The main reason to worry would be, for instance, if you were an air wizard who needed to stay away from electricity and lightning magic, but you found yourself getting closer and closer to a cursed man whose skin could zap you. Obviously, this very specific scenario comes from the novel Strikes Twice.
They say lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice. But when it comes to love and magical curses, all bets are off. Our main character Marty Russo is a determined wizard trying to solve an electrical curse. Azure ‘Az’ Serrano has basically given up hope when his magical affliction makes touch impossible.
Is love stronger than a curse? The novel features enemies to lovers, magic, shifters, and steamy scenes.(P.S. for some of the steamy scenes, Marty and Az weren’t able to touch. This turned out to be a lot of fun to write and I hope you enjoy these moments too.) Here’s the cover and book description.
When lightning strikes, can love thunder back?
Marty Russo doesn’t need wings to fly. As an air wizard, he can soar through the clouds with his magic. He needs a purpose when coming back down to earth, so Marty agrees to help a man with a debilitating electric curse. But solving this impossible hex isn’t nearly as challenging as keeping his hands off Azure “Az” Serrano.
Az is difficult. Anyone would be, after six years of zapping anyone they touch with a painful electrical charge. Yet Marty didn’t need to touch Az to feel a jolt; he’s drawn to the passionate man underneath the leather jacket and guarded exterior.
But getting too close physically could land Marty in the hospital, or worse, because electricity is especially dangerous to air casters. As their emotional connection grows stronger, the temptation does as well.
Will Marty be able to free Az, or will the curse strike him down first?
Strikes Twice can be read by itself, though this is the second novel in my Elementally Yours series where casters devote themselves to one type of elemental magic. (They also fall in love with hot men.) And if you haven’t checked out the free novella associated with this series, you can get Circuits and Sparkshere.
Not every Greek myth has stood the test of time and is remembered in the modern age, but one minor deity remains familiar today, the nymph. As alluring beauties with a connection to the natural world we see every day, it’s no wonder these supernatural sprites enchanted us mortals.
Nymphs are certainly more recognizable than some of their male counterparts (the male version of a water nymph is a potamoi. Who has ever heard of a potamoi before? Answer: nobody.) However, you may not know too much about the nymphs unless you’re a mythology buff.
I learned more about the nymphs when creating my own version of water nymphs for my magical M/M romance Where There’s Smoke. (My main character was a male nymph, which may have scandalized the ancient Greeks.)
Let’s learn more about these captivating creatures from Greek mythology.
What Are Nymphs?
These divine beings weren’t quite gods but definitely more than mere mortals. Nymphs were beautiful female nature spirits who embody the essence of the natural world, from rivers and forests to mountains and seas, and their existence is deeply intertwined with the environment they inhabit.
Basically, they were part personification and part guardian of the natural resource they represented.
Unlike the Olympian gods, nymphs were typically tied to specific locations or natural features. They weren’t immortal in the same way as the gods, but they lived incredibly long lives and remained forever young.
As described in Homer’s works, they were often portrayed as young, beautiful maidens who danced, sang, and wove alongside streams or in sacred groves. In ancient Greek art, nymphs were often depicted as beautiful young women carrying water jugs or dancing in groups.
Types of Nymphs:
Naiads: The Fresh Water Princesses
These water nymphs ruled over springs, rivers, and fountains. Famous naiad Arethusa’s story is particularly dramatic – she was transformed into a spring to escape the river god Alpheus’s unwanted advances. Talk about extreme measures to avoid a bad date! Naiads were known for their healing powers and were often associated with sacred springs that were believed to cure illnesses.
Dryads: The Tree Huggers
Dryads shared a unique bond with trees – their lives were literally intertwined with specific trees. These nymphs were considered the guardians of forests and groves, protecting their trees with fierce dedication.
The most famous dryad story is probably that of Daphne, who transformed into a laurel tree to escape Apollo’s pursuit. This isn’t just a nymph thing. Women turning into things to escape mythological men—or as a punishment for dalliances with mythological men—is a pretty standard occurrence. This leads me to believe life could be pretty rough for the more attractive Greek ladies.
Oreads: Mountain Mavens
Mountain nymphs or Oreads loved hanging out in rocky crags and mountain valleys. Echo, perhaps the most famous Oread, was a chatty mountain nymph who got on Hera’s bad side and became just a voice. Hera cursed her to only repeat others’ words after Echo helped Zeus hide his affairs. Her tragic love story with Narcissus is one of mythology’s most famous tales of unrequited love.
Oceanids and Nereids: Sea Sirens
These marine nymphs were daughters of Oceanus and Tethys (Oceanids) or Nereus and Doris (Nereids). Thetis was among the strongest of the nymphs as some sources assert that she led the Nerids, and she had to wed a mortal man because the gods feared how powerful her son would be otherwise.
That son of hers is another Greek figure still known to modern audiences, Achilles. And yes, I did have to use a picture of Achilles. Usually, I don’t focus on women on my blog too often, but my hands are kinda tied here in talking about nymphs since according to the Greeks there aren’t male nymphs. But I still write gay romance, something Achilles himself was known to indulge in, so yeah, the rules of life require him to get a special mention and picture.
Powers and Abilities
Nymphs weren’t just pretty faces hanging out in nature. Okay, they kind of were, but they do have some nifty supernatural skills like:
Healing abilities (especially water nymphs)
Control over natural elements
The power to grant prophecies
Shape-shifting abilities
Extended lifespans
Some could even bestow curses when angered
The last one is more of a rarity. Nymphs were usually mild-mannered and playful, but they could be inspired to engage in a little divine fury on occasion, usually when someone threatened or harmed the natural land or landmark they protected.
Nymphs in the Pantheon of Greek Mythology: A Step Below the Olympians
While they are celebrated as divine entities, they operate on a different level compared to the Olympian gods and goddesses, such as Zeus, Hera, and Poseidon. Nymphs are typically regarded as lesser deities or spirits, existing in the realm between mortals and the Olympian gods.
While nymphs are revered and often worshiped in local cults, they lack the omnipotence associated with the Olympians. Since nymphs and their powers are limited to their natural settings, this gives them roles as guardians rather than rulers. They wield power more localized in scope. For instance, a naiad governs the stream she resides in, while a dryad protects a specific grove of trees.
Answering to Greater Powers
Nymphs often act as attendants or companions to the greater gods, reflecting their subordinate status in the mythological hierarchy. For example, many tales feature nymphs serving as attendants to Artemis, the goddess of the hunt and wild nature. They accompany her in the woods and are typically portrayed as loyal followers of this formidable goddess.
Ritual and Belief
Nymphs weren’t just characters in stories – they were deeply woven into ancient Greek culture. Ancient Greeks took their nymph worship seriously.
People would leave offerings at springs and groves believed to be home to nymphs. Sometimes they built shrines called nymphaea near springs and grottos, where they’d leave offerings like honey, oil, and milk. Some of these sacred spots became major cultural centers, showing just how important nymphs were to daily Greek life.
Why Nymphs Matter Today
In a world where we’re increasingly disconnected from nature, these ancient nature spirits remind us of humanity’s deep connection to the natural world. Their stories speak to eternal themes: love, transformation, and our relationship with the environment around us.
Whether you’re a mythology enthusiast, a fantasy reader, or just someone who appreciates a good story, nymphs offer something fascinating to explore. Their tales continue to inspire writers, artists, and storytellers today, proving that these ancient nature spirits still have plenty to teach us about our relationship with the natural world.
To celebrate the upcoming release of my new M/M paranormal romance The Werewolf’s Heart on May 9, here’s a quote from the novel.
This assignment was full of challenges. Like me going undercover as a suburban homeowner, posing as an ‘average’ lone werewolf among humans. My interests included grisly murders, supernatural victims or suspects, and bringing killers to justice. Now? I needed to blend in. Live a normal life. Whatever the hell that meant. It sounded kinda like torture. Then I met him.
Here are the first two chapters from my new M/M paranormal romance,The Werewolf’s Heart. The full book comes out on May 9th!
Can a werewolf protect the man who holds his heart without giving into forbidden desire? Aaron Honeywell can’t wait to renovate his new house and transform it into his oasis, but his home isn’t the only thing in disrepair. His lackluster and stalled love life could use a little attention. And just when he hits it off with his devastatingly sexy neighbor, a fox shifter attacks and reveals the hidden supernatural dangers lurking outside their cozy street.
Going undercover in the suburbs sounds like the assignment from hell for supernatural detective Merritt Slate. Then he meets his cute neighbor and suddenly his all work and no play lifestyle seems lacking. But the dangerous forces capable of kidnapping werewolves certainly aren’t playing, and he won’t let an innocent person get caught in the crossfire. Protecting Aaron is more important than his feelings, no matter what his wolf thinks.
As the human and his protector grow closer, they start to realize the same thing. A house is only as valuable as the people in it. But when the case hits too close to home and threatens everything, will Aaron and Merritt be strong enough to stand up to those determined to tear them apart?
~
Aaron
WHAT MAKES A HOUSE a home?
I was about to find out as the newest resident and homeowner on Crescent Street in the growing city of Ashvale, North Carolina. The deed listed Aaron Honeywell, yours truly, as the owner of a two-story ranch style property.
Honeywell, I’m home.
The trunk of my Honda Civic slammed closed with a satisfying clunk as I balanced the last box on one hip. I surveyed the suburban middle-class homes in shades of faded wheat and ecru—also known as beige and white—with well-mowed lawns and identical mailboxes by the driveways. My house might be a tad smaller than the rest, but it was still mine.
This moment? A big damn deal. I soaked in all the glory as the pleasant afternoon sun washed across my arms and I gazed upon my new territory, every blade of grass and modest square inch.
Moving in felt pretty good.
But catching the eye of my sexy new neighbor? That felt even better.
His dark sable hair—so gorgeous it deserved the pretentious home designer name for brown—moved with the breeze, a strand falling over his face and ratcheting his sexiness up another few impossible degrees. Mr. So-Hot-It-Defies-All-Logic, we hadn’t been formally introduced, wore a sweater the color of sculptor’s clay (grey), perfect for a stroll around the neighborhood on a mild spring day.
I was half tempted to drop my box on the driveway and see if he’d be interested in starting a neighborhood fitness group that I’d never attend solely for the opportunity to chat with him. He nodded to me and I waved—oops, this box definitely required both hands. I started tipping forward with the weight and hastily saved it and myself from wiping out, hopefully without looking too silly.
Any potential humiliation was forgotten when I walked towards the front door and felt his eyes taking a gander at myass. Somebody sure was and I doubted elderly Mr. Martin next door was the culprit.
Sexy neighbor guy was still way out of my league, but I was theoretically a respectable catch. I had a stable job, my own house at 27, and cooked a mean lobster ravioli. Sure, my culinary skills max out at five meals, but I cooked those five recipes well. And I wasn’t hideous either. Petite in both stature and figure, I had wavy auburn hair and a thin frame with a round face and light hazel eyes.
A sea full of possibilities and other ‘P’ words greeted me inside when looking around the living room of my new kingdom. Along with lots of boxes. Ugh, time to unpack.
The doorbell saved me.
Did the hot guy stop over to say hello?
No, another neighbor greeted me. A young woman with long midnight (black) hair, my first visitor! She told me her name was Kara and proudly thrust her gifted bottle of wine into my arms.
“It’s perfect, how did you know?” I asked with a mischievous grin.
“One look at you and I saw weeknights bingeing trashy vampire dramas and sipping red wine were in our future.”
“Sounds fantastic,” I laughed.
“Great, because I frequently need to escape my place…” She winced. “No matter how many times I remind myself that staying at home through college saves money, it’s still…”
“Living with your parents?”
“Bingo.”
While I left my mother’s house as soon as I turned 18, I still remembered the days of nightmare roommates and happily offered her sanctuary. “Feel free to drink and binge watch in my home anytime, as long as you accept that this house loves Damon and Stefan Salvatore equally.”
“Yes. Stefan has the hero hair, but Damon is just so annoyingly sexy.”
I smiled. “We’re gonna get along just fine.”
When sticking the wine in the fridge, I considered buying a wine rack. I enjoyed a good rosé after a long day at work managing a customer service center for a high-end electronics brand. My kitchen décor was nonexistent, so I should fix that too. A woeful amount of shopping was still needed to really finish decorating the interior since I only lived in apartments before.
Even when living in a few houses with Mom during my childhood none of them felt like a home, all lacking that special ingredient to make them comfortable and warm.
Owning my own place was so exciting because this was my first real home ever. Or it would be one day, but there was one thing missing.
My romantic prospects left a gaping hole in my otherwise promising future. What would really make my new house feel like a home was the right man to share it with.
~
Aaron
One ‘P’ word kept rattling around in my head. No, not penis. Yes, I needed a man, but… potential. That was the ‘P’ word, potential. My home was a flat, square property with two small stories, a grey roof, and dingy cream paint in the back, but potential meant that the funky smell in the attic and peeling linoleum in the downstairs bathroom weren’t problems. My fixer upper was full of exciting projects.
So even after a long night of unpacking, I was in remarkably high spirits the next day.
“Oh, hello,” I said as I opened the front door.
Another new friend arrived. Not a neighbor though. A bird.
The bird released a soft chirp, and I halted in the doorframe to avoid stepping on it. I waited for it to shoo, but it stayed parked there where a welcome mat should be on the square slab of raised concrete that passed for my front porch.
“Shoo?” I tried. The bird refused my request.
Note to self: add welcome mat and flowers for porch to shopping list.
The small brown creature had a pointed beak that almost dared me to challenge him when he puffed up his feathers and stared me down. A sparrow maybe? Something common and usually unintrusive. His tiny beady eyes were focused and slightly unnerving.
“Can I help you with something?” I demanded, refusing to be unnerved by the tiny winged menace.
“Just saying hi.” Holy deep voice, Batman.
Yes, the caped crusader had a deep baritone, but this guy could give him competition. The sexy voice was, naturally, attached to the sexy neighbor, who had walked up the path to my door.
His shadow fell over the bird, whose wings flapped once in protest before he flew away, leaving me alone on my front porch with… oh my god, he’s even hotter up close.
The man’s dark hair looked naturally tousled, though his beard was carefully trimmed and maintained. He was so tall with a square jaw, strong build, and lightly sun-kissed skin. And his whiskey-colored eyes were positively striking.
“Is this a bad time?” He stepped back like he’d leave.
“Stay!” I half yelled. Oops. Did I already ruin the fleeting hope the sexiest neighbor I’ve ever had will look at me twice? “Sorry, I wasn’t talking to you before.”
He looked around, confirming we were the only ones standing on my front porch.
“There was… a bird.” My face flushed. Yeah, I definitely blew it already. There went the opportunity to blow other more fun things. “He was watching me.”
The man’s left eyebrow rose. Just the left and not the right. Impressive. I’d never been able to do that. “Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around?”
“Huh?”
“Birdwatching.”
“Well, I was watching him too.” Stop saying stupid shit! “We were having a staring contest?”
Oh look, it got even stupider.
“Hey, whatever you do in your free time is your own business.” An almost smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, so the gentle teasing didn’t offend me. Only I offended me for acting ridiculous in the first place.
“I do totally normal things in my free time,” I promised. Normal people probably didn’t feel the need to specify that they were normal.
Making the executive decision to gloss over all my weird behavior, I pasted a bright smile on my face and extended a hand. “I’m Aaron Honeywell.”
“Hey. Merritt Jones.”
We shook hands. His grip, just like the rest of him, was firm and strong.
“Nice to meet you,” I said. “I promise I’m not a crazy person.” Another one of those things you shouldn’t have to spell out.
He smiled kindly. “I don’t think you are.”
“Really?” That made one of us. “I wouldn’t judge you if you did.”
“You’re cute.” His eyes widened like he didn’t realize he was going to say that, but I was very happy he did. “Uh, I figured you might need a break from unpacking. I remember how hectic moving is.”
“Oh, are you new to the neighborhood too?” I asked and he nodded.
Sweet, another thing we had in common. Along with living on this street, (probably) being not-straight, and (in my dreams) being into each other.
“What brings you to North Carolina?” I asked, deciding he wasn’t a native because he lacked even a slight Southern drawl. “I’m not from the South either originally, but I went to college in Durham and fell in love with the area.”
“Actually, I’m from Louisiana, but I’ve moved around so much that the accent only comes out after a few drinks.” I wanted to hear that. “My work brought me to Raleigh first, then here.”
“How’s the job going?” I asked to be polite and because I likely had an interest in everything he did. Even eating cereal or clipping his toenails.
“It keeps me busy,” he answered neutrally, though his gaze seemed loaded for some reason. “But my work isn’t very interesting.”
“Really?” My eyes trailed down the kind of incredible physique that typically belonged to movie stars and professional athletes. “Your job must be engaging enough since you look so—” I coughed to avoid gushing about his fine as hell body and embarrassing myself further. “…in shape.”
“There are lots of ways to stay in shape.” A stray shaft of sunlight fell over my face and half blinded me, but I thought I saw a spark of amusement in his eyes as he continued. “For all you know I sit behind a desk all day and hit the gym at night.”
“No way.” I sized him up with over-exaggerated obviousness, squinting and tilting my head as the picture came together. “You’d be bored staring at a computer screen all day. My guess is you work outdoors or with your hands, but your job must have excitement too. You love action.”
“Alright, fine.” He shot me a quick grin that would have made my heart stop if it lasted any longer. “Lucky guess.”
“My first impressions of people are usually correct.” I had to look away, towards a teenager mowing grass two lawns over, as it hit me how forward you love action sounded.
“Well, I don’t know much about reading people.” His keen attention felt palpable, and I wondered whether that was true. “But observing others is probably easier without distractions.” He leaned back, raising his arms in a casual stretch, and my view wavered for a split second before giving up on watching his powerful arms, and instead zeroing in on the skin revealed at his navel from his shirt riding up… uh, what?
When I registered his words, I flushed and found myself unable to look directly at his knowing smirk.
This guessing game suddenly became too real. Some light flirting was definitely going on, but sizing him up hadn’t actually revealed much as my new neighbor was hard to read. Was he just being friendly or really interested? Truthfully, my skills at reading people were better with second impressions, but ‘second impressions’ wasn’t a real expression.
“Y-yeah, I’m distracted.” I cast my eyes about the street and landed on a neighbor’s lawn. “Mrs. Gregory’s begonias are just so colorful,” I rambled. “Aren’t they nice? Especially since she hasn’t grown them before.”
“You just moved here and you’ve already chatted with your neighbors and remember their names?” Okay, her ten-minute spiel about her garden wasn’t exactly fascinating since I knew nothing about flowers, but she was so sweet and—”That’s impressive. In my head she’s the lady with the ugly robe and yappy dog.”
“So does that mean you don’t welcome all your new neighbors to the block?” That meant I was special.
He stilled for a moment, then chuckled under his breath. “Hey, I’m just being neighborly. And I’ve tried all the nearby take-out restaurants if you need recommendations.”
“Are there any good Thai places nearby?”
Merritt provided a few options, then added, “It’s not Thai, but Joseph’s on 5th Street is the best restaurant hands down. Great Italian food and they even have an outdoor patio so you could enjoy dinner and a show.”
“Huh?”
He smirked. “Watching the birds while you eat.”
Oh, for the love of– “I don’t always watch birds!”
“Either way, the atmosphere really adds to the experience. Better to dine in there instead of ordering takeout.”
“Um, are you asking me out?” I blurted out because that sorta sounded like an invitation.
He looked surprised, seemingly reviewing everything he just said internally to see where my wires got crossed. Oh god. Innocent flirting and actual attraction were two different things, and I totally messed up and confused the two.
“Nope, you were just giving me suggestions,” I realized. “One new homeowner to another, right. I gotta get going.” I quickly backed up—
“You’re already home.”
—not quickly enough.
“Yes, I’m home and there’s so much, uh…” I trailed off, gesturing vaguely behind me.
“Unpacking,” he supplied.
“Yep, gotta do that!” And get inside and die in peace.
“Hey, it’s alright.” His smile, though a tad amused, mostly seemed kind. “For the record, you’ll know when I ask you out.” Time slowed, my gaze zeroing in on his eyes and the promise in them. “I have a feeling you’ll find out soon enough.”
Whoa, from attraction to embarrassment and a whole roller coaster of emotions, I struggled to process where we landed. Then a brilliant smile lit my face, one I couldn’t hide or wipe away as it hit me: Merritt was attracted to me too.
We said our goodbyes, and I floated along in a daze for the rest of the day. About half the stuff I unpacked might have been put in the wrong place. Oh well.
Everything was lining up just right. My world was full of potential, and things were off to a promising start with my sexy neighb—Merritt. Plus, some shelving for the bedroom arrived. First delivery to my new home! I fell asleep with a smile on my face.
AROUSAL FILLED THE DAMN BLOCK whenever the new neighbor saw me.
Humans unknowingly clouding the air with pungent feelings typically irritated me, and every tiny feeling pours off Aaron in waves, creating some of the strongest scents ever broadcasted in my direction… somehow his aroma doesn’t bother my wolf. All arousal carries a spicy tang, yet his was layered with sweet undernotes like cookies hot from the oven. I wondered what his regular scent smelled like and if it was as enticing.
The lust lingered persistently in my nose even when traveling over a mile to where Tom Parker and Jenny French live. Lived. Before they disappeared a month ago without a goodbye or forwarding address.
“House is clean,” I reported to Agent Frost over the phone. Shiny hardwood floors and lemon scented cleaner surrounded me, the place otherwise empty.
“Figures.” His voice sounded neutral, though I heard the repetitive clicking of a ballpoint pen and knew he felt the same frustration as me.
A few investigators were sent earlier and found nothing interesting, but I still had to check the place out for myself. An average suburban neighborhood rested outside the living room window. Compact cars, pine trees, and not enough hidden vantage points for safely watching two wolves. Nothing strange stood out.
“Tom and Jenny were leasing this place for another four months.” I ran down the list of what we knew. “When they stopped paying rent on the first, the landlord checked in and they were gone.”
“Right.” Frost continued, “They left the majority of their things but took a car and enough essential items to make the police doubt foul play. Credit cards showed charges heading north for rooms at cheap motels without surveillance. They appear to be a young couple that decided to head for greener pastures on a whim. Nothing directly points to them being missing.”
“Not from a human perspective.”
We knew a few things the humans didn’t.
Tom and Jenny weren’t just a nice young couple but a nice young couple of werewolves. Both lived away from pack land but were in good standing with their respective packs. Wolves rarely cut and ran. It looked bad on them and their families to desert the pack, not to mention the emotional toll of abandoning loved ones and an alpha.
Wolves didn’t flee, not without a damn good reason. Or because they weren’t given a choice.
“My case is almost over,” Frost said. “Should I head up faster and—”
“—Help with my dead end?” I filled in, holding back a laugh. “Not necessary.”
“Right…”
The investigation started so late that we were already at a huge disadvantage. Between garnering no attention through human channels and the closest supernatural law enforcement branch being over three hours away, the case was already on the verge of going cold when we received it.
Tom and Jenny attracted attention partly because they were wolves number five and six to disappear from a four-county area in the past six months. All just vanished. Aside from living away from pack lands, the only other commonality between all the missing persons was their ability to sprout fur and claws.
“A second set of eyes may reveal more details,” Frost volunteered.
“Paperwork that bad?” I guessed.
“I’ve faced rampaging minotaurs the size of small buildings and three-headed hydras from dark dimensions. I fear nothing… and I have nightmares about this paperwork.”
“Sorry I can’t help you.” I needed some help myself.
This assignment was full of challenges. Like me going undercover as a suburban homeowner, posing as an ‘average’ lone werewolf among humans. I had little in common with average people. My interests included grisly murders, supernatural victims or suspects, and bringing killers to justice.
Now? I needed to blend in. Live a normal life. Whatever the hell that meant.
Ugh, I was looking at days, maybe weeks or more, full of… Being friendly. Polite chitchat at mailboxes. Socializing. Maybe going on a few dates. What regular people did. Even when they were werewolves, according to my annoying younger siblings.
It all sounded kinda like torture. Then I met him.
Aaron Honeywell—seriously with that last name?—was tempting. Too tempting, unlike the seven middle age divorced women who saw me walking and asked about starting a neighborhood fitness club. Aaron, however, he flustered so… adorably. His round cheeks flushed all rosy and warm as he bit his lip and sneaked glances at me under his eyelashes.
Me and my wolf were typically the epitome of ‘dog with a bone’ once we were on the hunt. Yet my wolf was eager to take a break and learn more about the interesting human who smelled like warm sugar when excited.
Maybe my family was right about me needing a vacation after all.
I had some time to kill anyway. We weren’t expecting action on the case anytime soon. The goal now involved blending in and recon. At least I wouldn’t be bored waiting for the case to heat up.
Maybe this assignment wouldn’t be so bad after all.
I’m not sure why I always think I need the perfect opening line to talk about a new book, but whatever the perfect way to begin is, I haven’t found it. So let’s just dive right into discussing my M/M paranormal romance The Werewolf’s Heart.
In celebration of the book coming out on May 9, I’m going to post a quote and excerpt from the novel, but I’m not sure I’ve shared the cover and description yet, so that’s what is happening first.
Aaron Honeywell’s new house is a fixer upper, but his love life feels broken beyond repair. Fortunately, this fresh start is his chance to find the right man to help turn his house into a home. His sexy new neighbor Meritt seems like just such a guy until he saves Aaron from a handsy stranger, revealing that he’s more than man—he’s a werewolf.
Meritt Slate has worked some challenging cases before, but this is a whole other level of difficult. The detective is stuck undercover in suburbia to lure out whoever’s abducting werewolves. And his alluring neighbor is quite the distraction. Fighting his desires and doing his job has never been a problem before, but it’s possible he’s finally found someone worth settling down for.
But the dangers lurking outside their cozy street are getting closer to home. And when the supernatural world comes knocking on Aaron’s door, a werewolf protector may not be enough to save him. Can the werewolf protect his heart, or will evil forces break it first?
In this scene, Meritt the supernatural detective talks about the challenges with his latest case.
This assignment was full of challenges. Like me going undercover as a suburban homeowner. My interests included grisly murders, supernatural victims or suspects, and bringing killers to justice.
Now? I needed to blend in. Live a normal life. Whatever the hell that meant. Ugh, days, maybe weeks or more, full of… Being friendly. Polite chitchat at mailboxes. Socializing. Maybe going on a few dates. What regular people did. Even when they were werewolves , according to my annoying younger siblings.
Honestly? Pretending to be a regular werewolf living on the down-low among humans? Kinda sounded like torture.
Then I met him.
Aaron Honeywell—seriously with that last name?—was tempting. Too tempting…
Have you ever wondered why vampires are called vampires? It had never crossed my mind to ask where the name came from until I came across the origin when looking up what a group of vampires were called. (the answer is lots of things, but I like clan best.)
‘Vampire’ comes from the Greek word, are you ready for this, one who drinks blood. Yeah. Kinda anticlimactic. And literal. At least if you’re an ancient Greek.
Well, actually, this is what I thought vampire meant, until I saw the origin only meant ‘drink’ and apparently my brain just added the blood part after.
So now I know. Even if it only comes from a word meaning drink, it’s still not a very creative name for a very creative concept. Since, you know, vampires are fictional and only exist in imaginary form. Right? Yes.
Yet I feel like I should keep the mystery alive and be all ~ooooglly, spooky, you never know~ because that’s more exciting, but I am a big wimp. True story, the only reason I’m agnostic about ghosts and aliens is because I am not ready for either to introduce themselves to me.
Since I learned this info when writing my M/M paranormal romance Vampires vs. Werewolves?I feel like I should mention it here. That feels like an authorly thing to do.
About: A witch in a small town runs a psychic parlor. He wants to stay under the radar, which means he shouldn’t fall for the sexy investigator who seems intent on getting his help or seducing him. Hint: it’s both. There may also be zombies.
(Fun fact: ‘psychic’ is a world I’m physically incapable of spelling right. Along with ‘physics.’ I think the two words existing in the same language is what trips me up. I always get confused about what order the ‘y’ and ‘s’ go in and all hell breaks loose when adding the ‘h’ in there somewhere.)
Witchin’ Warlockis a fun, fast read with a little heat. The trouble with shorts like this is if it’s halfway decent, people want more. And I thought it was really cute and interesting. So I would have loved spending more time in this world, and it feels very fast paced because it’s over before you know it.
If you like M/M paranormal romance and novellas, there’s no reason you won’t love this one. Otherwise I’d call it worth checking out for anyone who has Kindle Unlimited. Though it is only .99 cents if you want to buy.
Caspian comes from a long line of witches. Brock is third generation F.B.I. They shouldn’t fit but they do.
A year ago, Caspian moved to a small town in Ohio. He hoped the lack of competition in the area would be good for his psychic business, Futures Untold. The last thing he expected was a sexy F.B.I. agent to show up and treat him like a missing person’s bloodhound. Even though Caspian keeps doing favors for Special Agent Brock Wray, his distrust of authority runs deep. After all, they used to drown witches in this area back in the day, and Caspian has no desire to end up on Brock’s missing persons’ list.
Officially, no one knows how Brock keeps solving so many huge cases. Caspian is Brock’s secret weapon. The man knows things no one should. That’s not why Brock keeps showing up and making excuses to see Caspian. Caspian fascinates Brock. Not only does Brock’s inner detective need to know how Caspian knows so much, but Caspian is also smoking hot. He is the single most gorgeous man to step foot in their tiny town in ages. Brock isn’t dumb. He has to take Caspian off the market as quickly as possible and he’ll use any excuse to get close enough to do it.
When Brock takes Caspian along for the ride on a case, things will get weird. Let’s hope Caspian isn’t forced to show why he’s the most witchin warlock around or Brock might run for the hills.
Stop me if you’ve heard this one before. An angel and a regular human walk into an antique and curiosities store that the human owns and bicker over the ownership of a possibly possessed box. Oh, you haven’t heard this before?
Yeah, the premise of Galen feels fresh and intriguing, a unique spin for those looking for new takes on familiar paranormal romance stories.
Rating: 5 out of 5 possibly cursed rings (yikes!)
More than Demon but less than Angel
Angelic beauties who have heavenly origins fight against the forces of hell even though some think they should be damned too. When one of the fiercest warriors meets a hard to forget human, his strength and willpower are put to the ultimate test. Can an immortal angel love a human without it ending in tragedy?
Galen and his brothers are cursed because their fathers were Lucifer’s generals. They were taken early and trained to fight for heaven, though aren’t allowed in heaven. (Which is some BS if you ask me, but celestial leaders do not care what I think.) The brothers are the embodiment of deadly sins. Galen is wrath. Sometimes rage overcomes him and he loses self completely, he almost had to be put down because of it.
After learning the hard way, Galen has sworn to never love a human again. They all grow old and die while he doesn’t, so it’s too painful. Though there may be a way to ensure a bond with the right human doesn’t end in despair, though it involves a big sacrifice…
Fluffier than angel wings
Okay, there’s some angst over the nature of relationships between immortal beings/humans with short lifespans. And Galen has some anger issues. Plus, all the danger, secrets, and intrigue you might expect from matters of heaven and hell.
Yet somehow this novel is incredibly sweet, gooey and adorable. Sweeter than it has any right to be considering one part of the main couple is the embodiment of wrath and fighting his feelings every step of the way. Not that I’m complaining about any of this. Does it sound like I’m complaining? A little maybe. Let the record show: not complaining. It’s not the love story I was expecting, but the sweet human and his unshakeable connection with Galen balanced out the darker parts and it was very easy to get absorbed in this world.
While the romance at the core of the story is very sweet with lots of smut, there’s also a lot of action and adventure. Traveling to hell, epic sword fights, a lesson in demon cooking, all very exciting stuff.
A wild ride
The story is engaging also because of the vivid details the author uses. Osborn really makes everything come to life and the scene plays itself out in front of you.
Blame my ADHD brain, but I do get confused between the brothers. There are seven of them! Just make extra note of who is who at the beginning. Fortunately, they’ll probably become more familiar if you read the whole series.
Simon just wants to run his antique shop in peace. But then he finds a small mysterious box that’s (probably) haunted, and his shop is broken into by the hottest man he’s ever seen who then steals said creepy box. Now demons are after him and his only hope is to trust the tall, muscled, combat-boot-wearing thief who claims to be the son of a fallen angel.
Galen is charged with protecting humanity from dark forces. Cursed with Wrath, he’s hot-tempered and spends his days fighting demons and trying not to kill his six brothers when they irritate him. His number one rule? Never fall in love. But then he meets Simon, a clumsy human who asks way too many questions and is—unfortunately—a total demon-magnet, and he starts breaking his own rules.
What’s inside the box, and why do the demons want it so badly? One thing is for sure… Simon can kiss his peaceful, ordinary life goodbye.
Book 1 in the Sons of the Fallen series. A low-angst urban fantasy MM romance featuring a grumpy half-angel and the human he swears he doesn’t like (he’s lying), seven warriors representing the deadly sins, a seaside mansion where they all live, banter, a snarky demon, and a HEA.
Well, let me answer that question with… a statement, but not the answer. Because I like making things complicated.
I just looked up what is a group of vampires called.
Yes, I’m working on a historical drama. Just kidding, it’s a paranormal romance. And also gay, in case the blog title didn’t clue you in that everything here is hella gay.
Fortunately, when I looked up vampire group names, the internet didn’t treat me like I was a weirdo and instead provided lots of helpful information. Apparently there isn’t one correct answer. Vampire families can be called a clutch, clan, brood, coven, or pack.
Werewolves already claimed pack, so good thing there’s other options. I kind of like brood because you’ve got some (almost) rhyming and alliteration going on with vampires drinking blood in their brood.
However my initial instinct, and what I’ve already used at least once in the novel I’m writing, is clan. I guess I can’t officially decide all groups of vampires are forever hereby referred to as a clan (because I unfortunately don’t rule the universe) but I’m going to use clan from now on.
If you disagree with vampire clans, well, keep it to yourself maybe? Those guys are dangerous.
Gay Paranormal Romance 