The Wolf Cure – Free Today!

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Holly’s The Wolf Cure is free in the JMS Books’ Advent Calendar today and only today!   

I hope you haven’t missed the advent calendar over at JMS Books. Every day there is an LGBT+ book for free from 12:00 AM EST to 11:59 PM EST. When the time has passed it will be published wide, but for one day, you have the chance to grab it for free!  

Galen is a flawed healer. Normal healers heal the injury and dispel the pain. Not Galen. Nope. He heals the injury, and then he carries the pain for the duration of the normal healing time.  

He’s living with his brother Ari, who is an animal communicator. Animal communicators are looked down upon, so it’s important for their welcome in the community that Galen keeps his flaw hidden.  

The problem is Averett. Averett is a werewolf, which is even worse than being an animal communicator, and he’s the clumsiest wolf who’s ever wolfed. So far, Galen has managed to keep him at arm’s length, but when Averett falls off a roof, there isn’t much he can do. He has to heal him, and the injury is too severe to hide the pain from.  

Averett refusing to leave Galen’s side doesn’t make it any easier.  

It’s a short, fated mates, brother’s best friend topped with space brownies kind of story. So if that’s your jam, grab it today! Tomorrow it’ll be full price.  

Grab it here!

The Wolf Cure

thewolfcure

How many doctored brownies are too many doctored brownies when dealing with werewolves?   

Galen Ceowald is a flawed healer and a loner. Normal healers take over the injury from the one they help and get rid of it. Galen takes over the pain of the injury. Period. He’s become an expert at concealing his suffering to keep his defect hidden, but it’s easier to avoid people altogether.   

When Averett Garou, Galen’s brother’s best friend, falls off a roof, it’s nearly impossible not to let his weakness show. Especially since Averett is a stubborn werewolf who refuses to leave Galen’s home. But maybe there are worse things than eating cakes and cuddling with a werewolf. Or has Galen consumed too many brownies to be of sane mind? 

Excerpt:

Galen tried to increase the distance between them, but he didn’t want to move his body, and Averett didn’t let go despite his pulling. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held someone’s hand. At first, he didn’t think too much about it, then the sensation became overwhelming, and he struggled to breathe—or maybe it was the air pocket in his lung making it so. 

“Please don’t touch me.” He yanked at his hand again. This time Averett let go of him, but not without sliding his fingers over his skin in a caress. It made Galen frown. Why did he do that? 

“Talk to me, Galen.” 

“I don’t like to be touched.” 

Averett’s eyebrows climbed his forehead. “You don’t like…” He huffed, then he looked at the wall to his right for a second while a crease formed on his brow. When his eyes found Galen’s again, his gaze was guarded. “Why?” 

“What do you mean why? I don’t like it.” 

“You don’t like it because it’s me?” 

“No, it doesn’t matter who it is.” 

“Oh, baby, I think it does.” 

Galen gaped at him. “Don’t ever call me that.” 

A mischievous grin took hold of Averett’s mouth, and Galen averted his gaze. He was too handsome for his own good. Stupid wolf. 

“Okay, now we have two questions to sort out.” 

“What?” Galen wasn’t proud of his squeak. 

“Why do you smell of pain, and why don’t you like to be touched? Is it because of the pain? Not all touches are painful. You’re a grown man, you know there are different kinds of touching.” 

Galen scowled, but it was ruined by his stomach growling again. It must be the brownies making him this hungry. 

Averett tilted his head. It was a motion he did a lot, and it reminded Galen of a dog, or wolf, he guessed. “Are you going to go get more food?” 

There was no challenge in his words, but Galen was pretty sure it was a test. He reached for the bowl and held it out to Averett, wanting more food but not wanting to move an inch. 

Slowly taking the bowl, Averett waited. 

“Could you please give me some more chili?” 

“I would feed you till the end of days if you’d let me.” 

“What?” 

Averett got to his feet and walked away without responding. He was fucking with him, right? Wolves were weird about feeding people. It meant more to them than it did to humans. Ari had tried to explain it. Feeding someone meant they were pack. Family. Precious. 

But Averett most likely meant it as repaying him for the healing. 

Galen wouldn’t mind having a werewolf bringing him food, though. They were excellent hunters, and Ari had come home with venison given to him by the pack more than once. It had saved them when things had been extra hard. Come to think of it, it must’ve been Averett who’d given him the meat. He was the one closest to Ari, and he believed Averett was some sort of leader, at least over those who worked in construction. 

Once Averett had heated the bowl, he crossed the hut in a couple of strides and held it out to Galen. 

“Thank you.” 

“If I take a brownie, will I be high as a kite?” 

Galen grinned at him, then gave a careful shrug. “I don’t know how werewolves’ metabolism works.” 

“Why do you have doctored brownies, Galen? You’re not a junkie.” 

“I’m not?” 

Averett shook his head. “You’re not, but Ari didn’t bat an eye. Instead, he encouraged you to have one when we arrived.” He narrowed his eyes. “They’re pain relief, right?” 

Fuck. “Yeah.” 

“You smell of pain, you’re hardly moving, you have edibles on your kitchen counter, Ari is worried enough to be silent, and you claim everything is fine.” 

Galen busied himself eating. 

“For fuck’s sake, Galen. Tell me what’s going on.” 

Heaving a sigh, he glowered at Averett. “When I heal someone, I take their pain into myself.” 

Some color left Averett’s face. “And then you dispel it. It’s what healers do, right? Drag the pain out, repair the injury, and then get rid of it all.” 

“Sure.” He nodded a little more forcefully than he’d normally do and took another spoonful of chili. 

“Except you still smell of pain.” Averett pushed his eyebrows together. “You smelled of pain when we arrived.” 

“You’ve established I’m in pain already.” 

Averett hummed. “But now you’re in more pain than when we arrived.” 

“Oh, come on, you were out of your mind with pain yourself. You don’t know what pain level I was at.” 

“I’ll never be too out of it to notice you, and you’re in more pain now.” Averett swept his gaze over Galen’s body, then reached out toward his tibia. Galen gave a strangled cry, and Averett’s hand stilled a few inches away from him. Something thunderous welled up in Averett’s eyes. 

“You took my pain.” 

“It’s what healers do.” 

Shaking his head, he glared at Galen. “You took it into yourself.” 

“It’s what healers do.” Galen’s tone was clipped. 

“No.” Averett pushed away from the bed and paced the tiny space between the bed and the couch. “They take it, and then they get rid of it.” 

Galen nodded and ate some more. It was what well-functioning healers did. 

 

Guest Post | A Yuletide Excursion

The lovely Ellie Thomas is back on the blog! Today, she’s here to talk about her story A Yuletide Excursion that’s out today. Welcome, Ellie!

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Thank you, lovely Ofelia, for having me as a guest on your blog again. I’m Ellie, I write Historical Romance novellas, and I’m here today to chat about my new release, A Yuletide Excursion. This is my Advent Calendar story for JMS Books. 

This fabulous event features a new release every day from December 1st – 24th and each story will be a free download from the JMS website on release day only. A Yuletide Excursion is released today, December 4th, so grab your free copy!  

https://www.jmsbooksllc.com/  

For this spin-off story, I’m back in the 17th century world of Owen and John, the MCs of Lucky John and Lucky in Love. Readers might well remember Cuthbert, the cheeky page with a kind heart who befriends John at the Palace of Whitehall. Now he gets his own romance!  

In finding the right partner for Cuthbert, I remembered his initial attraction to stern no-nonsense Owen before John has a quiet word and sets firm boundaries. So I thought it would be fun to find a similarly serious man for some opposites attract romance. Lemuel Freeman fits the bill perfectly. He’s the brother of Lady Antonia, who recently married Owen’s older brother, Sir Lewis Montgomery. Lemuel and Cuthbert tag along on a Christmas road trip to Monmouthshire with the newlyweds to visit Owen and the rest of the family.  

As you’ll read in the excerpt, Lemuel and Cuthbert get off to the worst possible start, when Lemuel accidentally comes across Cuthbert when he’s changing out of his wet clothes and happens to be naked. Quite the introduction! Lemuel is a reserved and self-disciplined man and is disturbed by his instant attraction to Cuthbert, especially as he assumes Cuthbert is frivolous, superficial and empty-headed. 

Of course, we already know that Cuthbert has a heart of gold beneath the pleasure-seeking veneer. I thoroughly enjoyed developing the initial misunderstanding between these two men until they finally get the measure of each other. There’s no denying their mutual attraction, but to their surprise, they also complement each other in terms of personality. Stern, steady Lemuel gives Cuthbert some much-needed emotional security while Cuthbert brings some light relief and fun to Lemuel’s sober outlook. Taking part in a family Christmas celebration provides the perfect occasion for Cuthbert and Lemuel to fall in lasting love. 

Blurb:

ayuletideexcursionIn early Restoration London, Cuthbert Watson, a comely twenty-year-old page is in service to Sir Lewis Montgomery at the Palace of Whitehall. Cuthbert freely enjoys the dissolute pleasures of the newly established court of King Charles II and the great city of London.

During the winter of 1661, as the royal court empties for Christmas, Cuthbert dreads being left virtually alone. So when his friends Owen and John invite him to Monmouthshire for the festive season, Cuthbert jumps at the opportunity to accompany Sir Lewis and his new bride, Lady Antonia, for the long journey west.

On the first stage of their journey, Cuthbert falls foul of Mr. Lemuel Freeman, Lady Antonia’s stern twin brother, who condemns Cuthbert’s frivolous ways.

But does Lemuel’s disapproval hide an irresistible attraction? While these two very different men are thrown together over Christmas, might their mutual desire lead to a lasting romance?

Excerpt:

The weather hadn’t improved when they reached Hammersmith. Cuthbert had the dubious honour of standing in a muddy puddle while directing reverse operations with Sir Lewis’ baggage.

At least I don’t have to carry the lot by myself, he thought shouldering his bag while following the servants up the long garden to the back of the house.

Having been shown upstairs with any necessities, he unpacked what Sir Lewis required in the closet adjoining the marital bedroom. 

This is a comfortable sort of house, Cuthbert concluded. The furnishings weren’t new but were highly polished and cared for, indicating the owners had little regard for fashion or other people’s opinions. 

Sir Lewis was presumably downstairs, making himself pleasant to his new wife and her family, no doubt provided with warming refreshment.

Cuthbert presumed he was not immediately required. He took advantage of this respite by taking the opportunity to change into a dry set of livery, thankful that his travel bag was oiled and relatively waterproof.

In the privacy of the closet, he stripped briskly. To his dismay, he found that the rain had permeated his shirt to his chilled and goose-pimpled skin. The idea of pulling his dry shirt over his wet body was unappealing. Then he recollected the pile of towels in the bedroom near the wash bowl. Surely one won’t be missed. I can sneak it down to the kitchen to dry with the rest of my clothes. 

Lulled into a sense of security by the prevailing silence of the upper floor, he scuttled into the bedroom on his mission. In the act of picking up a towel, the door opened before he had a chance to shield his nakedness.

Sister, are you there?” 

At this query, delivered in a north-country twang, a tall, blond gentleman appeared in the doorway. He halted immediately, presumably taken aback by finding a naked man in his sister’s bed chamber who was not her husband. 

Cuthbert’s carnal instruction at court meant that he was unembarrassed by his state of undress. He was not particularly tall or muscular, but his slender compactness proved popular. He had been assured on numerous occasions that he shouldn’t be ashamed of what he had been endowed by God’s good grace. 

In this instance, it crossed his mind to ponder if it was the correct form to make his bow while not wearing a stitch of clothing.

Good day to you, sir,” he said chirpily. “I am Cuthbert, page to Sir Lewis. I got a soaking on our way here. I was changing into dry clothes before I reported to my master.”

 Not that it’s any of your concern. 

The gentleman didn’t appear reassured by Cuthbert’s explanation but stared at him with chilly disapproval.

Cuthbert was a few inches shorter, but he lifted his chin and met that gaze unflinchingly. He acknowledged that the gentleman, still youthful in his mid-twenties, was handsome in a rigid sort of way, with straight blond hair and cool grey eyes. 

Well set up, too. Cuthbert admired those broad shoulders under his sober coat.

I’ll leave you to cover yourself,” the man said coldly. “The sooner you’re attired in keeping with a respectable household, the better.” 

He gave a self-satisfied nod and departed. Cuthbert was open-mouthed with indignation.

That stiff-rumped scold! It’s hardly my fault he strolled in when I happened to be bare-arsed. 

As he briskly towelled himself, it occurred to Cuthbert that he might have just been introduced to the owner of the house. He grinned. An inauspicious meeting.

Cuthbert pulled his shirt over his head. Oh well, can’t be helped, he thought.

Just before the man’s mask came down, Cuthbert speculated if he had imagined a touch of colour in those high cheekbones or a glint of interest outweighing the surprise in those pale blue eyes. 

A Yuletide Excursion AC pic

Book Links: Free download December 4th only from JMS Books

https://www.jmsbooksllc.com/ 

Bio:

Ellie Thomas lives by the sea. She comes from a teaching background and goes for long seaside walks where she daydreams about history. She is a voracious reader especially about anything historical. She mainly writes historical gay romance.


Ellie also writes historical erotic romance as L. E. Thomas.

Website: https://elliethomasromance.wordpress.com/

Facebook reader group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/8308047409266947

Twitter/X: @e_thomas_author

Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/elliethomas.bsky.social

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/19835510.Ellie_Thomas

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/ellie-thomas

Release Day | Frostbite

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It’s release day!!! Frostbite is out today 🥳 AND since it’s part of JMS Book’s Advent Calendar, it’s free TODAY. But only today, so don’t snooze! 😆  

It’s been a year since I had a release as Ofelia. I’ve had plenty as Holly, but she has been hogging all my time, so very little has been left. That being said, of all the stories I’ve written these last twelve months, this is one of my favorites 😊  

It’s short, it’s quite silly, and I love it.  

Noel has a cold case podcast together with his best friend, Thea. He goes to interview a woman about the disappearance of her friend, which happened thirty-seven years ago. When he gets there, the woman is shot right in front of his eyes.  

Noel comes from a long line of rugged men working law enforcement, and his initial reaction is to call his brother, but he’s away on an undercover job. So he calls Bo.  

Bo is Noel’s brother’s best friend and former work partner, and Noel has spent the last sixteen years hating him (and secretly fantasizing about him, but no one needs to know that!). Bo, being the ass he is, doesn’t believe Noel and takes his sweet time coming to the rescue.  

When he realizes Noel isn’t making things up, he jumps into action and takes Noel to his cabin where they’ll hide until the police can find the murderer. The cabin is tiny, and it only has one bed…  

So if you’re in the mood for some close proximity, brother’s best friend kind of story, grab it now! 

Frostbite

frostbite

Murder isn’t as much fun as it’s made out to be, neither is being rescued by a grouchy cop.  

All Noel Chance wanted to do was ask a woman a few questions about a kidnapping that took place thirty-seven years ago for his cold case podcast. He didn’t think someone would shoot her right in front of him.  

While hiding from the murderer by the dill pickle in the food cellar, he calls Bo, his brother’s best friend, who is a cop. Bo takes his sweet time to come to the rescue, and once he does, he’s surprised Noel was telling the truth.  

Bo then kidnaps him and takes him to his cabin in the woods while the police investigate the murder. Okay, maybe it isn’t kidnapping, and more a case of keeping him safe, but still. What is he to do with a hot but grumpy man in a cabin with only one bed?   

Grab it here for FREE on December 2nd!

Excerpt:

Chapter 1 

 

Noel Chance curled up in the corner of the dank food cellar and clutched his phone to his chest. His heart beat a mile a minute and there were spiderwebs in his hair. There may or may not be blood and gray matter on his cheek, so actually spiderwebs were the least of his concerns. 

Unless something crawled. Then they’d have a problem. 

There was only one person he wanted to call in a situation like this, but he couldn’t. 

Noel came from a long line of police officers. Tough, hardy, unflinching, masculine men who stood tall and laughed in the face of danger. If they didn’t laugh, they at least grinned. 

Not Noel. He was all fine limbs and doe eyes. Okay, perhaps not doe eyes, and if they were doe eyes, people didn’t notice them behind his glasses. Which didn’t matter. 

What mattered was he was curled up in a basement with mushed brains on his face, and he couldn’t call his brother Matt. He was off doing undercover work, like the macho man he was. 

Noel’s fingers shook as he unlocked the phone and scrolled through his contacts. 

He’d made a promise. Several, if he was to be honest, but this one he’d made without planning on keeping it. Normally, Noel kept his promises, but this one he’d made because Matt had nagged and nagged and nagged, so he’d said he would without ever thinking he would. 

Call Bo Nicholas if he got in trouble. 

It was what he’d promised, but he didn’t want to. Bo was Matt’s former partner and best friend, and Noel wanted to kill him. Or perhaps not kill, since he’d now seen murder and it wasn’t what it was made out to be. 

He’d settle for shipping him off to a different planet. 

One planet away would have to be enough. Yeah, he’d settle for that. 

Once he found Bo’s number, he hit call and waited as one beep after the other sounded. Then there was a crackling. 

Nicholas.” 

Damn, his voice was enough for Noel’s throat to grow parched. Infuriating. Annoying. Maddening. So fucking self-assured, Noel wanted to ruffle all his feathers and maybe hear his voice in the dark of his bedroom—not that he ever would. 

Nothing, nothing, broke through Bo Nicholas icy facade. 

Hello?” 

Fuck. “Eh… Bo?” 

Yes.” He dragged it out. 

See, I’m in a bit of a pickle, right next to the pickles actually, and I promised Matt—” 

A groan cut him off, and Noel could picture him sitting by his desk and pinching the bridge of his nose with his big fingers. He hoped he poked himself in the eye by mistake. 

Yeah, well, now I have, so when you’re called out for a double homicide and find me, tell him I love him, and I did as promised, okay?” 

What?” Bo sounded a little more alert now. 

Could you tell Thea too? She has my consent to turn my death into a podcast episode. I know it’s not our normal thing, to talk about active investigations, I mean. Not dying either. Until now, we’ve both managed to stay alive, but she can turn me into an episode or series of episodes if she wants to. Oh, and Dad too. Tell him I love him, I mean. I don’t think he’ll get into podcasting anytime soon. Though, should he want to—” Noel cut himself off as steps sounded on the stairs. He was unsure if they led into the basement or to the upper floor. The stairs were right atop each other and every creak sounded as if it was right there. 

Shit, I have to go. Someone’s coming. They shot her right in the head. Whatever they say when you interrogate them, there was no struggle or anything. No self-defense. Murder. Executioner style.” 

Noel?” 

For a moment, Noel stilled. He realized it was the first time Bo had said his name. Shit, hadn’t he understood who was calling until now? He must have, right? He’d said Matt and Thea. He had to know. 

Yeah, sorry.” He hadn’t been speaking loudly before, but now he was whispering. “I should’ve introduced myself. I guess you get a lot of frantic calls from strange men.” 

Not regularly, no.” 

Okay, remember what I said. I love Matt, Dad, and Thea. They can do podcasts. And there was no struggle, they murdered Cynthia Harris point-blank.” 

The steps were coming closer, and now Noel was sure they were in the basement and not on the upper floor. 

They’re outside the door now, I have to go. Bye, Bo.” 

Noel, wait—” 

But Noel didn’t wait. He hung up and made sure the volume was off since he suspected Bo would call him back, then he put on the recording app he and Thea used for their cold case podcast episodes. It would save onto the cloud, so she’d be able to hear him, maybe she’d get his murder on tape too. A nice bonus. 

Thea. I’m hiding in the food cellar on Pioneer Passing number four. I came here to interview Cynthia Harris about what she remembered from the night in 1987 when her best friend Pamela Hawk was abducted.” Thea knew already, but he added it in case she wanted to use the recording for the podcast. 

Bo’s name flashed on the screen, but Noel only checked that it didn’t stop the recording, then he continued. “I knocked on the door, but she didn’t answer despite having picked the time for me to come around herself, so I walked around the house. The patio door was open, which was strange since it’s fucking snowing outside, and I walked inside. I called out and said I was Noel Chance from Chance Leads there to see her. I heard some shuffling and muffled whimpers and thought maybe she’d fallen or was unwell and needed help. I rushed toward the sounds right into the living room. She was on a chair with her back toward me.” 

He took a moment to listen. He hoped she could hear his whispers and whoever walked around in the basement wouldn’t. Though, if he’d been a killer who wanted to get rid of an eyewitness, he would have checked every door, so it was only a matter of time. He lowered his voice more. 

I rushed inside, and you know me. I’m not the most observant person in the world. I didn’t look around. I hurried forward. It was so weird, her sitting in the middle of the room on a kitchen chair with no other furniture nearby. I wanted to see her face, but when I was right by her side, there was a thud. Blood splattered. Not splatter-movie splattered, but I think I might have a few specks on me.” He pulled in a shuddering breath. “Anyway. I didn’t see the man’s face. He was wearing a ski mask, and when he trained the gun on me, I ran. I’d say he was a bit over six feet. Six-one, six-two tops. Nah, I’m leaning more toward six to six-one.” 

He paused and listened. The basement was silent, but he didn’t trust it. 

I have spiderwebs in my hair, and I’m hiding right next to the dill pickle in the food cellar. I called Bo, erm… I mean Detective Nicholas, and warned him it was done execution style, no scuffling or accidentally pulling the trigger while wrestling on the floor or anything like that. We’ve all watched The Jinx, right?” He and Thea had at least, and he believed their small audience had too. 

So, yeah… Why would anyone want to kill Cynthia Harris?” 

For all Noel knew, she was an ordinary sixty-three-year-old woman, divorced with two grown kids, who’d lost her best friend after a night out thirty-seven years ago. 

The police deemed it a freak abduction. A random man, maybe a hitchhiker, an in-the-wrong-place-at-the-wrong-time kind of thing, which was why Thea had wanted to look into it for their cold case podcast. Kidnapped women were seldom an in-the-wrong-place-at-the-wrong-time kind of thing, no matter what the white middle-aged men working the cases wanted to believe. 

Noel hadn’t had any arguments about looking into it. It was as good a case as any. It was local, which was their thing. Cold cases in Cokford and surroundings. 

They were amateurs, Thea and him. Doing the podcast for fun. Mostly. The money they got for it was more than welcome, and there was nothing more satisfying than setting up a murder board—or in this case, a kidnapping board. Though, it would turn into a murder board now, wouldn’t it? 

They called their podcast Chance Leads since his last name was Chance and Thea’s was Leads, and sometimes they stumbled upon a lead by chance. 

They’d done it for years and had a small but loyal following. It was growing, their following, and he’d wished their sponsor and Patreon income would skyrocket, since he hated his boring admin job. The office would benefit from a few murders. 

Thea and he might not solve any cases, but they allowed everyone who wanted to share their memories of the crime to do so. And they tried to give the audience a nuanced portrait of the person missing or murdered and show an accurate picture of what had happened, the investigation, the suspects, and so on. 

Never had he believed it would lead to him being the sole witness in an actual murder. Or the victim of a double murder.