Full Moon Groupie – Gay Werewolf Romance!

William is hot for werewolves, and luckily there’s a pack run every full moon in his home town. Is he going to get lucky this month? Will hot werewolf Mayot Free choose him? Wil he be mated?

 

NEW RELEASE! Wolf In A Wheelchair – paranormal romance

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I have a new title out, check it out!  $1.29 on Amazon.com!  FREE to read on Kindle Unlimited!

‘Hill Williams is a wolf who’s recently had a life-altering accident, rendering him paraplegic. Court Berkeley is a vampire who’s several hundred years old, old enough to know better than to go chasing after a younger wolf who’s already let him know he isn’t wanted. Hill’s pack disapproves of Court, and that was enough to break them up once. But the moon is full, and they’re both a little crazy, and playing at Romeo and Juliet (again) sure is an attractive idea… Short, approximately 3000 words.’

Image – Brehm, Alfred Edmund, 1829-1884; Pechuel-Loesche, Edward, 1840-1913; Haacke, Wilhelm, 1855-1912; Schmidtlein, Richard, no known copyright restrictions.

A) You’re adorable, B) You’re so beautiful, C) You’re a cutie full of charms

Lately, I’ve been writing five lists when I get up in the morning, first thing I do.  The first list is the gratitude list, just like they tell you you should do.

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I’ve always meant to get started on it, but somehow it’s taken me this long to actually get around to it.  I always felt like, well, I’m grateful, I’m a grateful person, I think about the things I’m grateful for all the time.  Doesn’t that count for the same?  But, when it comes down to sharpening the pencil, finding a blank page in a favourite notebook and actually getting down to making the list, it’s a whole different beast.

The process matters.  Like praying, it’s the actual words of the prayer, the getting down on your knees, the willingness to give up the time and do the work, instead of just thinking about it and thinking that makes it so.  Like the Steve Jobs quote – ‘the disease of thinking that having a great idea is really 90 percent of the work’.

So that works, and it’s been good.  Ten things I’m grateful for, every morning, varying from day to day but often the same things showing up – my partner, my parents, Theresa May getting a kicking in the election, the usual things.  It’s always ten items, for simplicity, and because an arbitrary number makes you really think – stretching for gratitude when the list is difficult to finish, making hard choices when there are too many candidates for too few spots.

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Then I move on to the second list, and another ten items.  The second list is my ‘hello universe’ list.  Signs, signals, little tips and winks and nudges from the universe to put me on another path or confirm the way I’m heading, or just to say ‘hi there, hi.  you’re not alone’.  I don’t generally get ten signs or synchronicities a day, and repetition from day to day is fine.  But almost always, I have something new to add to the list – like, I turn on the radio and there’s a discussion going on about something I’m thinking about right that second.  Or someone’s name comes up in every book I open, every song I hear.

Then there’s the third list, which is the daily To-Do list.  This is self-explanatory, and probably very little different from anyone’s to-do list.  Paperwork, shopping, phone-calls to make, nothing unusual.  The fourth list is Work, and is a more narrowly-defined to-do list with purely professional/work/money based items to be ticked off.

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The fifth list is maybe the most important.  It’s the ‘The Ones I Love’ list, and what could be more important than that?  Listing off ten people you love – changing little from day to day, maybe the slightest variations according to the vicissitudes of life and relationships – is guaranteed to open the heart, lighten the spirits, make the world a more beautiful place.

I find it so, anyhow.  It makes every day a good day. 

Every morning, the ritual, then.  Except that yesterday morning, my brain was on the fritz, glitching away with senior moments.  The first four lists I dashed off fine, pleased with my spiritual and practical processes and progress.  Then when it came to the Love List, I had a dyslexic moment.  Instead of ‘love’, you see, I wrote ‘evol’.

The Evol List – I was writing – apparently – the Evol List.  It sounds a little sinister, doesn’t it?  Packed full of supervillainy and miscreants, you’d think.  Who needs a list of evol-doers in their life?

I went to strike it out, to correct it.  And then I hesitated, and I thought.  Well, if you believe in signs and synchronicities – and I do – don’t these things happen for a reason?  At minimum, maybe my brain was talking to me.  Unconscious to superego, are you reading me, superego?

Evol.  Hmm.  Take a look at it.  It’s not exactly love in reverse.  It’s more of a mish-mash, the ingredients of love taken and misused by a terrible cook.  What would an Evol List consist of?

I didn’t think about it too much, then.  There were ten spots on the list, and I filled them up, quick, not too much pondering.  With names, with people in and out of my life.  Some of them were names of people who often appear on my Love List, too.  Maybe people I have very imperfect relationships with, but who still merit the word love in my mind, in my heart.

Some of them weren’t.

And I took the list, when I’d written it, and thought about the names on it.  Sighed a bit, and got on with my day.

Who would go on your Evol list?  Who would go on your Love List?  Would any of the names be the same, on both?

 

Image – holytimeland on Flickr, public domain.

Image – lizzi idiomas on Flickr, public domain.

Image – Jack Ambler on Flickr, public domain.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Cat May Look – Fluffy Gay Romance!

Tim is a Shifter, a were-person – and he tends to keep quiet about it. Mostly because he isn’t a werewolf, or a were-jaguar, or anything cool. No, he’s a were-domestic cat. Nothing wrong with that, right? But not exactly glamorous, just the same. So when he gets a huge crush on his next-door-neighbour, he doesn’t exactly spread the news around. Which makes it a little difficult when a witch puts a spell on him that has him stuck in his were-form, as Tibbles…

A Perfect Bloom 43 – Alex Ankarr

a perfect bloom IMAGE

Download complete ebook for FREE! at https://www.books2read.com/u/brg91A

A Perfect Bloom 43 – Alex Ankarr

“Oh well, if that’s the issue,” Cory says easily. “I can easily think of something that will more than do.” And his hand is still in Sam’s hand – warm, how warm – as he leans up, leans forward and opens his mouth a little. Perhaps they make an odd, incongruous couple, Cory in made to measure tailoring, Sam in his overall with cap still in hand.

Neither of them are thinking about that much, as they kiss, most likely. And the rose is still held tight in Sam’s hand, as his other arm pulls Cory close. Gifts have been given, and their hearts stolen. And they still have two days of the week to come, a weekend free together, the two of them and a stolen rose.

 

 

 

 

© Copyright Alex Ankarr 2014

No unauthorised reproductions allowed. All rights reserved to the author. No inspirations for characters drawn from real-life individuals, no resemblance to real individuals intended.

Photo credit: Bonita Suraputra (https://www.flickr.com/photos/21185968@N00/3428731883/in/photolist-6dZ9wX-6e1HhW) via a Creative Commons licence (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/legalcode), book cover modifications made.

A Perfect Bloom 42 – Alex Ankarr

a perfect bloom IMAGE

Download complete ebook for FREE! at https://www.books2read.com/u/brg91A

A Perfect Bloom 42 – Alex Ankarr

It wouldn’t be true to say that the warmth immediately floods back into Sam’s face, not right away. But there’s a cautious kind of hopefulness that takes away the tight… well, misery, it looked like, a moment ago. “Really?” he asks. A beautiful, charismatic, talented ex-con shouldn’t be capable of looking so gentle, so soft and innocent suddenly – should be hardened into cynicism by bitter experience. But it seems that’s not the case.

“Really,” Cory says firmly. And – because he simply wants to know – he asks, “If you hadn’t seen me with Adam – and that really was absolutely nothing, by the way, a storm in a teacup there – what were you going to give me? Today?” And he thinks he can safely say that, now. Even without explicit admission, it’s not exactly a secret between them, who gave him this week’s gifts.

There’s a shyness – amazing, with the level of cheek and confidence that Cory knows he has in him – that has Sam’s eyes evading his, casting down, before he can speak. But then he does speak. “I hadn’t worked it out,” he says, mumbling slightly. “I – don’t have anything.” He fidgets, and is clearly feeling the omission as a bit of a faux pas. But Cory can sort that out easy enough.

He could perhaps, have been more stealthy with the rose. But it still counts, he feels. He brought it specially, after all, and after all… He already knows that, out of all the hybrids the company produces, this is Sam’s favourite. And perhaps an unoriginal idea for his own gift only fits the pattern Sam’s established, he thinks. A stolen rose, imperfect baking, a copied poem and slightly inexpert guitar playing. And now, Cory himself, copying Sam’s original idea, and reaching out to take his hand, as he holds out a rose that’s second-hand and still lovely.

“There is a fifth present,” he says softly. “If you’ll take mine, and excuse me just copying your first idea.” Sam’s eyes on the rose are warm, but there’s a slight reluctance in the way he takes it, fingers closing carefully over the thin de-thorned stem.

“But I don’t have anything to give you back. Something for you,” he repeats himself, helplessly.

 

 

 

 

 

© Copyright Alex Ankarr 2014

No unauthorised reproductions allowed. All rights reserved to the author. No inspirations for characters drawn from real-life individuals, no resemblance to real individuals intended.

Photo credit: Bonita Suraputra (https://www.flickr.com/photos/21185968@N00/3428731883/in/photolist-6dZ9wX-6e1HhW) via a Creative Commons licence (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/legalcode), book cover modifications made.

A Perfect Bloom 41 – Alex Ankarr

a perfect bloom IMAGE

Download complete ebook for FREE! at https://www.books2read.com/u/brg91A

A Perfect Bloom 41 – Alex Ankarr

Cory feels dizzy, like he’s missed something, been spun around and can’t re-acclimatize. “But he did,” he says, uncertainly. “He got my attention. He has it.”

But Sam shakes his head definitely, still not looking at him. “Not the right way,” he says with certainty. “Not if he saw you…” Oh, these pauses and hesitations are going to kill Cory, what with the suspense, the open-mouthed eagerness. He could shake Sam to get the full explanation out of him. Except that that is something that would be a lot more than frowned upon, by his own Human Resources department. And also, even if he would actually do something like that, Sam has about six inches and twenty pounds on him, so that it wouldn’t be the greatest idea in the world in any case.

“Saw me?” he repeats. It’s about the only gambit he has left.

“With somebody,” Sam says. And oh, the light and the life and the enthusiasm and shy amusement, it all drains out of his face. “In the rose-gardens, yesterday. A visitor, I saw him arrive. And then, then I saw him…”

Well. It seems as if there’s only one incident that Sam can mean. But it isn’t possible, is it?

“He kissed me,” Cory says slowly. Because that, and Adam, is surely what Sam is meaning, with his face all tight and the pleasure and direct warmth gone out of it. “But there was no-one around,” he says, protestingly. He doesn’t like to think of Sam seeing such a daft and meaningless little contretemps, doesn’t like to think of him disturbed by it. This disturbed, and he clearly is. “No-one could have seen us.”

“No?” Sam asks wryly, and he’s looking direct at Cory now for sure, examining his face carefully, like he doesn’t want to miss a thing, miss a trick, miss the exact facts and the truth. “I was up high, on a ladder against the south wall,” he says, explaining, mouth a line that suggests he’s no happier for doing it. “Trimming the Virginia creeper we have growing there. I didn’t mean to spy,” he says, and boy, that’s stiff, that’s uncomfortable.

At least Cory knows what the trouble is, now. He’s hesitant himself, when he moves a little closer, slow and cautious. “You didn’t see as much as you thought, maybe,” he says, awkward. “That was my old boyfriend. I have to admit it. But he’s also a consultant for us, on overseas trading difficulties. What you saw…” He pauses. “It wasn’t instigated by me. And it didn’t lead to anything more. And there’s nothing between me and him. Not now.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

© Copyright Alex Ankarr 2014

No unauthorised reproductions allowed. All rights reserved to the author. No inspirations for characters drawn from real-life individuals, no resemblance to real individuals intended.

Photo credit: Bonita Suraputra (https://www.flickr.com/photos/21185968@N00/3428731883/in/photolist-6dZ9wX-6e1HhW) via a Creative Commons licence (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/legalcode), book cover modifications made.