Supernatural Secret Service agents Owen Sharps and Calvin Springfield meet on the train to their new assignment in St. Louis, and sparks fly between them. But it's 1897, and they need to be very careful—falling in love can be dangerous for men like them.
It's their first case together, investigating mysterious disappearances—including the two agents who preceded them. Grim evidence leads them to look for a darker purpose. Old ghosts haunt the railroad line, zombie rise, signs point to ritual sacrifice, and they suspect someone is trying to open the gates of hell.
Can Calvin and Owen stop the mayhem, thwart the vampires, and find true love, or will everything go up in smoke?
Peacemaker is a high-stakes steampunk MM romance thrill ride filled with found family, paranormal Pinkertons, intrepid reporters, mysterious disappearances, nefarious land brokers, hellhounds, zombies, vengeful spirits, dark spells, absinthe magic, a ruthless vampire railroad baron and a love that won't be denied.
Before Colt and Winchester, there was Sharps & Springfield!
Free use image from Open Clipart Vectors
Ornery Owl's Review
Rating:
Five very enthusiastic stars
If this audiobook was a person, I'd be making a fool of myself following it around and fangirling over it. This may be the most fun I've ever had listening to an audiobook, and I'm including stories by Stephen King and H. P. Lovecraft in the running. Listening to this story was like listening to a no-holds-barred radio show. It was intense and wild, but it was also cleverly crafted and thoughtful. The narrator was the perfect choice for the material.
The characters, setting, and plot were all constructed with care. The author didn't gloss over the prejudices faced by homosexuals during the time in which the story took place. Homosexuality was not just frowned upon, it was a crime in many places. Although the two agents were attracted to each other from the start, both were concerned that the other might not share the attraction and, in fact, might be disgusted to learn about it.
The slow-burn angst between Sharps and Springfield sizzled throughout the story but didn't overwhelm the other aspects. If you enjoy a steampunk setting with a touch of the supernatural plus odious villains and likable heroes, give this one a listen! Due to explicit descriptions of sexual encounters between consenting adults, this audiobook is suitable for adult audiences only.
As for the sex scene, I was pleased that it didn't contain any undesirable elements such as eroticized choking, which is always a massive "nope" as far as I'm concerned. It was simply sizzling sex with a genuine emotional bond between the characters and it couldn't have been better.
I have no complaints whatsoever about this story. It is not just five-star quality, it's the sort of wonderful story that truly inspires me. At my age and advanced levels of curmudgeonry, that's no small feat.
About the Author
Morgan Brice is the romance pen name of bestselling author Gail Z. Martin. Morgan writes urban fantasy male/male paranormal romance, with plenty of action, adventure and supernatural thrills to go with the happily ever after. Gail writes epic fantasy and urban fantasy, and together with co-author hubby Larry N. Martin, steampunk and comedic horror, all of which have less romance, more explosions. Characters from her Gail books make frequent appearances in secondary roles in her Morgan books, and vice versa.
On the rare occasions Morgan isn’t writing, she’s either reading, cooking, or spoiling two very pampered dogs.
Series include Witchbane, Badlands, Treasure Trail, Kings of the Mountain and Fox Hollow. Watch for more in these series, plus new series coming soon!
Love is the last thing on Justin’s mind. Sure, he’s noticed the big, shy guy who comes in for his coffee every morning, but Justin doesn’t have time to indulge in a crush. After his last disastrous breakup, he needs to get his head out of the clouds and focus on climbing out of debt with his pile of part-time jobs. The singing telegram gig is the most embarrassing by far, but at least no one will ever recognize him in his ridiculous costumes. It’s temporary, just through the Valentine season.
Adam is in love. He just needs to drum up the nerve to do something about it. A daily smile from the cute guy behind the coffee counter is the bright spot in his day, keeping him going through the work week in an office filled with jerks. Especially when one of the jerks starts sending him romantic telegrams as a joke. There’s nothing he hates more than public humiliation. If he ever finds out who’s behind it, heads will roll.
Love songs, lies, and an absurd amount of glitter pave the way to a romance neither of them expected. Adam is everything Justin’s ever dreamed of, but he can never discover Justin’s terrible, fuzzy, off-key secret.
This Valentine’s Day, Cupid doesn’t miss, even if he has terrible timing.
The stares started in the parking garage and only got worse as he entered the lobby.
This latest assignment brought him to one of the four high-rise buildings that defined downtown Belleview, the biggest one, some financial firm. It stood out against the mountain landscape like alien architecture that had dropped from the sky, dark and shining and bleak beside the trees and mountains jagged with life.
Ignoring the gobsmacked expressions on the receptionists’ faces, he approached the front desk. “Hi, how you doing? I’m here to make a special delivery on the sixteenth floor.”
The older of the two receptionists shushed the other’s giggling as she dutifully tapped away at her computer. “Name?”
Out of habit, Justin almost glanced at a name badge he was no longer wearing. Instead, he passed along the crumpled order form in his sweaty gloved fist. “I represent Season’s Greetings, with a telegram delivery for Adam Hubert.”
She perked up immediately, taking in his work uniform with a slowly spreading grin. “Adam Hubert, up in IT? Oh, honey, wish I was coming with you. That’s gonna be a sight to see.”
Nothing in her words or her delivery inspired confidence. Oh well, some gigs were more difficult than others. Not everyone appreciated a personalized singing telegram. Justin had already run the gamut of reactions from delight to disgust, and now, he just wanted to get each assignment done so he could move on to the next. “Can you direct me to his office?”
“Says right there on your paper. Floor 16, room 319. I promise you’ll know him when you see him; he stands out around here. Not as much as you in that getup, but he’s never exactly blended in either. Big hulking guy, always wears a frown, nobody can get a smile out of him. Folks up on his floor call him ‘Lurch.’” She added that final aside in a stage whisper with a conspiratorial air that rubbed Justin the wrong way.
He retrieved his order form and stuffed it in his pocket. “That doesn’t seem like a very nice name to call somebody.”
“He’s not very popular. Alright, here’s your badge.” She slapped a little barcode sticker on his furry chest with uncalled-for glee. “That should let you in the right doors. Tell Charlene up in reception to call me when you get there. I wanna listen in.”
He left with a half-hearted wave, his boss’s ancient boom box weighing heavily in his hand. “Thanks.”
A.C. Thomas left the glamorous world of teaching preschool for the even more glamorous world of staying home with her toddler. Between the diaper changes and tea parties, she escapes into fantastical worlds, reading every romance available and even writing a few herself.
She devours books of every flavor—science fiction, historical, fantasy—but always with a touch of romance because she believes there is nothing more fantastical than the transformative power of love.
Getting involved with a mafia don was a horrible idea. Falling in love with one was worse.
Blurb
Detective Micah Hart wasn’t sure when his fairly safe, predictable life became something more closely resembling a dumpster fire.
But if he had to pinpoint an exact moment, he would say it was the first time he went undercover as a prostitute in an attempt to bait the notorious serial killer that was stalking New York City’s streets – the media-dubbed Hooker Hunter.
It’s when Damon Romano plows into his life, with his fierce protective energy, and those thick thighs, and the bluest pair of eyes Micah has ever seen.
If only he wasn’t also a temperamental mafioso in charge of running one of the city’s largest criminal empires.
Damon fixates on Micah, obsessing over feeding him and making sure he always has a coat. He spoils him rotten with gifts and insists on taking Micah on as his personal escort – a “boyfriend” to get his nagging sisters off his back.
It’s weirdly sweet, and Micah doesn’t know how he’s become a soft spot in the ruthless man’s otherwise hardened exterior, but it would be a lie to say he didn’t want even more: a real relationship with Damon.
There was just one teensy, tiny problem with that.
Despite what Damon thinks, Micah isn’t actually a prostitute. He’s a cop for the NYPD.
Pretty Policeman is an M/M billionaire mafia romance, sprinkled liberally with rom-com elements, served with a side helping of sugar daddy kink and mistaken identity trope.
Excerpt
“I should- I should arrest you,” Micah said, making sure to empathize his point by jabbing a finger into Damon’s sternum.
It didn’t come out sounding nearly as intimidating as Micah meant it to. (Drunkenly tripping over your words would do that.) It was annoying, even as his lone sober brain cell was yelling at him to shut the fuck up. Damon didn’t know he was a cop.
Damon’s scowl deepened, but he didn’t move to remove Micah’s finger. “For taking that asswipe’s drink?” he demanded.
“No,” Micah denied immediately. “For s-stalking, and being unconstitutionally sexy. It’s- it’s a violation to my eyes.”
Damon blinked. “I’m a violation to your eyes?” he repeated incredulously.
“Yes,” Micah agreed, drunk enough not to be completely humiliated by the words coming out of his mouth – thank God. “And your eyes. They’re unnaturally blue – they’re fucking arresting is what they are. I’m arresting you for- for being arresting.”
Micah was sure he could have come up with more ridiculous reasons to bring the man in if he wasn’t so distracted by the feel of Damon’s hard body under his hands. At some point, the rest of his fingers had joined the one he’d poked into Damon’s chest, and they were currently tracing the ridged lines of muscle he could feel through the man’s dress shirt. For once, he wasn’t wearing a fancy suit jacket.
If Micah wouldn’t have been so distracted, he might have noticed the way Damon’s features softened at his bizarre declaration, the man’s angry scowl drifting away.
As it was, Micah was more focused on exploring Damon’s body. He trailed his fingers down his chest and stomach, hands inching to dive into the man’s pants, but, of course, Damon was wearing a belt.
Not that that stopped Micah. While one hand fiddled with the buckle, the other attempted to wedge fingers into the waist band of the man’s pants.
Micah had the vague, faraway thought that he was going to be the one who ended up being arrested – for public indecency. (He was attempting to grope another man in public, after all.)
Luckily – or perhaps, unluckily – Damon was still in control of his mental faculties, and he managed to take hold of Micah’s wrists and tug them away from his crotch before he could feel anything more than a hint of scratchy pubic hair. “You’re smashed, aren’t you?” he demanded.
Micah blinked. “What- what gave you that idea?”
About the Author
Fifer Rose is a happily married mother of four human children and two very spoiled cats.
When she is not wiping snotty noses or being bullied into feeding her cats (again?!), she can be found obsessing over M/M romance. She loves all the tropes, some of her favorite being enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, sugar daddy, and mistaken identity. She also has a penchant for A/B/O dynamics.
While Fifer is a sucker for angst, a happily-ever-after is a MUST in all she reads and writes.
Unrelated hobbies include baking, attempting to golf (for her husband’s sake), and daydreaming about traveling. (No actual traveling because did you see the part about four kids?)
