Ghosts aren’t real. And historic lighthouses aren’t haunted.

At least, travel writer Eric Winters wants to believe that. But, while he’s here for a story about the Storm Point lighthouse, he’s seeing and feeling things he can’t explain. Even worse, that dark presence is summoning painful memories of the life Eric’s tried to leave behind … and very real danger in the present.

Meredith Murray, sea-witch and lighthouse-keeper, tries to be good at his job. But ghosts aren’t his specialty, and the haunting is growing more powerful. The arrival of a gorgeous travel writer — and obviously untrained psychic sensitive — is a complication Mer doesn’t want. But Eric might be the answer he needs.

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Paranormal Gay Romance: 26,833 words

JMS Book :: Amazon

Excerpt:

The ground of the path felt solid under Eric’s back, when he hit it. Solid and sharp: more pebbles, ordinary and dry. That was real. He was here. If he was here, he was breathing. 
 
He got his lungs to believe that fact. He tried to sit up, and found that he mostly could. When he blinked the world filled with rainbow haloes, and steadied. 
 
Steps approached, at a run. A tall shape dove to Eric’s side, in the dirt. Hand on Eric’s shoulder, a worried voice, saying, “Can you hear me? No, don’t move too much — I can call someone, the paramedics –” The voice was deep and rich and comforting, sunbeams limning ocean depths with gold. 
 
“No, I’m fine.” He wasn’t, exactly, but Eric did not feel up to explaining sensitivity and hallucinations to a stranger, even one with a beautiful voice. He blinked again, and focused that direction instead. 
 
And discovered that more than the voice was attractive. The man at his side, kneeling on the rocky path, had thick black hair and sun-bronzed skin and dark stubble, attractively rugged; the man was wearing sturdy jeans and an emerald knit sweater, and his eyes were emerald too, an astonishing lapidary green. He said, while Eric was distracted by the fact of being rescued by a broad-shouldered water-god, “You’re not fine, if you’re passing out after looking at our rocks and our ocean. Are you feeling dizzy? Ill?” 
 
Eric sighed, “No,” and moved to get up, to gather legs under himself. The sky and sun and coastal mist swam, eddied, decided to behave. “Thank you. I just sometimes … that happens, sometimes. I’m used to it.” 
 
“Oh, and that makes it all right, does it?” The man got up with him, and kept a hand under Eric’s elbow. They were nearly the same height, though the new helpful arrival stood a couple of inches taller and with a distressing sense of responsibility for other people; he added, “I’m not used to it. Should I call someone for you? Or at least get you out of the sun? Some water?” 
 
“Maybe that one.” Eric rubbed a temple, winced, looked sideways at those sea-glass eyes. “You’re not used to it? You just met me. We haven’t even met, technically.” 
 
“I was watching you from the gallery, and my name’s Meredith. Mer, if you want.” Which explained nothing, except that Meredith had a sea-name, a wild island legend to go with the eyes and the hair and the glorious tall-dark-and-handsome good looks. Mer added, “Murray. I mean the last name,” while gently but inarguably walking Eric up the short path, around the curve of the lighthouse’s white tower, to the far end of the equipment room, and then through a small back door labeled Staff Only, which revealed a comfortable break-room space, with a sofa and a tiny refrigerator and a very modern small television. “Sit down. Water.” 
 
Eric sat obediently. The headache lingered, but it wasn’t bad. A bruise, a rug-burn, a scrape on the inside of his skull. The lighthouse itself seemed to be helping: it felt safe to his odd extra sense, a tower that wanted to fulfil its job of guiding and protecting, a place where the family of keepers had taken that responsibility seriously, generation after generation, until the building became imbued with purpose. 
 
Mer ducked into the tiny refrigerator, returned with an unopened bottle. “Here. Drink this. Painkillers? Something for the headache?” 
 
“No, it’s not bad.” The water helped, too: cold and certain. In the wake of the sip, the last name registered. “Murray. Any relation to –” 
 
“Oh yes. I’m one of the family.” Meredith, with the unselfconscious ease of a man belonging to those generations of Storm Point keepers, collected a bag of trail mix from a shelf, came back over, perched on the sofa-arm next to Eric’s spot. “Here, eat something. Sugar, energy, all that. It’ll help.” 
 
“You sound like you’ve done this before.” 
 
Mer laughed, though the sound was wry, and ran a tanned hand through his hair, rumpling shaggy waves. A few silver streaks in the dark, matching lines around his eyes, suggested he was older than Eric’s own twenty-seven, but the tall energy and competence might belong to any age. “I have … let’s say … some experience with people needing assistance. And yes, I do work here, which is why we’re in the break room. If –” 
 
The inner door opened; Eric caught a glimpse of a museum shop, busy displays, a bustle of visitors. A short brisk woman with the even curlier version of Mer’s hair, and lighter green eyes, put her head in to say, “Tom said you’d come in here; everything all right?” 
 
“Fine,” Mer said. “Just taking care of …” He paused, eyebrows up; Eric realized abruptly that he had not introduced himself, and flung in hastily, “Eric. Winters.” 
 
“Taking care of Eric. He needed to sit down for a minute, after looking at the shipwreck rocks.” 
 
The woman made an interested noise, at that. Mer said, “Go watch out for the tourists on those steps, Aunt Jen, we’re okay,” and she nodded at him and vanished to, presumably, deal with wayward tourists. 
 
“Sorry,” Mer said. “Family. They worry.” He was still considering Eric. “Eat that.” 
 
Eric gave in, because why not, at this point. The first sip of water, the first bites of food, did help. He said, “Thanks,” and then, because he was himself and that was a story, “Shipwreck rocks?” 

Check out the National Lighthouse Day Box Set!

Celebrate National Lighthouse Day with this box set!

The National Lighthouse Day box set is a collaboration between Holly Day, K.L. Noone, and Amy Spector containing three gay paranormal romance novellas featuring lighthouses, along with ghosts, vampires, and elemental magic.

Contains the stories:

Surging Reef by Holly Day: One day, Kazimir will live in a lighthouse, but until he can afford one, he’ll simply have to satisfy his need by breaking into abandoned ones. Kazimir saves every penny he can to make his dream a reality, but lighthouses aren’t cheap. One night, when he breaks into one, he finds a vampire chained to the wall. He can’t leave him there, but how do you steal a vampire without getting caught?

Storm Point by K.L. Noone: Eric’s here to write a story about the Storm Point lighthouse. But a dark presence is summoning painful memories of his past and danger in the present. Mer’s a good sea-witch and lighthouse-keeper. But ghosts aren’t his specialty, and they’re growing stronger. The arrival of a gorgeous travel writer and untrained sensitive is a complication Mer doesn’t want. But Eric might be the answer he needs.

Milo Burnbrook and the Long Way Down by Amy Spector: After losing his job in California, Milo returns to Maine as the new event coordinator for the Rocky Cliff Lighthouse. Soon, sparks fly between Milo and Jackson, a man whose rejection sent him running from Maine in the first place. That is, until he discovers Jackson was the prime suspect in the death of his previous boyfriend, Jason Reese, who fell from the top of the Rocky Cliff Lighthouse.

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Paranormal Gay Romance: 60,798 words

JMS Books :: Amazon

Hiya! I’m here as Holly today. A Few days ago, Grave Witch was released. It’s the 6th story in the Within the Walls series, and while there is a new couple in every book, I recommend reading them in order.   

The people living within the walls in Myrfolk are a tight-knit community of shifters, vampires, and a few magic users, and I love spending time there. It’s a second home in my mind, and I still have several characters I want to give stories.  

I was chatting with my editor, saying I’m thinking about making 2026 a year where I focus on wrapping up series I’ve left hanging, but that I don’t see an end to Within the Walls. There has to be one at some point, but can you ever reach a real HEA when the laws are stacked against you? I mean, my characters find love, happiness, and peace, but should they leave the community, the world is still shit, and I don’t really see a way to change it.  

So I’ll just have to keep adding stories, right? LOL  

In this one, we have Gilbert, a loner vampire, and Kage, a magic user in disguise. Kage is a detective and moved to Myrfolk to follow a lead on a missing blood slave. He’s convinced Gilbert knows something and won’t hesitate to do what needs to be done to find out what. Gilbert only wants to be left alone, but when he realizes Kage won’t, he figures his best shot is to help him. If they can figure out what happened to the missing woman, then maybe Gilbert can go back to his calm, predictable life.  

Read the first chapter below!   

Grave Witch

What does a vampire have to do to be left alone?   

Kage Marrone has been looking for a magic user who’s been missing for years. His latest lead takes him to Myrfolk, where he’s pretending to be human while working as a detective. When a witness claims to have seen a vampire steal a motorbike, he sees his chance to get inside the walls of the local supernatural community and ask questions.   

Gilbert Neumann only wants to be left alone. He has a house within the walls, and the more days he can spend sitting on his wrap-around porch looking out over his garden and not talk to anyone, the better.    

Kage is sure Gilbert knows something. He’s a vampire, and you can’t trust vampires. Plus, he lets a detail slip that has Kage convinced he knows more than he lets on. All Gilbert wanted to do was to help, not have a cop harassing him. Maybe the best thing he can do is help Kage find the person he’s looking for. It should give him his calm life back, right?

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Paranormal gay romance: 54,175 words

JMS Books :: Amazon

Chapter 1

Detective Kage Marrone stood with his back straight and his expression neutral while Captain Hamilton harped on. He’d been in Myrfolk for six months now, and it was like any other small town—filled with prejudice and people who took themselves too seriously. What made it stand out was how much time he spent investigating shifters and vampires.

Hamilton, the police captain, had made it clear from the beginning that Kage’s tasks included more than simply doing his job. He was to report on his partner as well. It didn’t make for a good working climate. At first, he hadn’t cared. Snitching on one human to another was immaterial. He would be here for a short time in any case. But he was starting to regret going along with it.

Christopherson and Hamilton were like oil and water, and Kage often wished Christopherson could stop antagonizing him, so they could get through one fucking workday without conflict, but he never did. He called Hamilton on his bullshit every day. Part of Kage admired it. The other fuckers in this department licked Hamilton’s ass every chance they got, and it had gone to his head, but for one day—one fucking day—he wanted to go home at the end of his shift instead of being called into Hamilton’s office.

Christopherson wasn’t stupid. He was well aware of something going on. In the beginning, he’d been, perhaps not warm, but open toward Kage. Nowadays, they never spoke about anything not related to the case they were working.

Christopherson had most likely figured out Kage was reporting everything he said back to Hamilton, so he couldn’t blame him, but damn, it made work boring.

“Do you think it’s true?”

Kage blinked to get back to the here and now. “Do I think what is true, sir?” Fuck, he knew better than to zone out.

“Christopherson selling his blood to the vampires.”

Eh… What? “Selling?” The pay was pretty crappy, but would Christopherson sell his blood? He was friendly toward the supes, something Kage appreciated. Most humans these days weren’t, so he should thank his lucky stars he’d been settled with one who treated supernaturals like people. Too bad he’d fucked it up by becoming the department snitch.

“I want you to follow him.”

Oh, hell no. “It’s not illegal to give blood to vampires.”

Hamilton’s eyes narrowed. “We can’t have a detective who’s under the influence of monsters.”

“I don’t think—”

“I know he’s Gertrude’s pet, but when I asked if he was dating her, he told me he was a fucking cock sucker, and around here it’s almost worse than fucking a corpse, so I don’t think he’s lying.”

Kage blinked. “Eh…” There was so much to unpack there. Christopherson was gay, it was never something he’d hidden, but vampires weren’t dead. They were made, yes, but they were living, breathing beings.

“I don’t have time to follow Christopherson around. It’s not my job to do so. I’ll tell you if he does something suspicious on the clock, but my free time is my own, and I’m not gonna waste it following Christopherson around.” He’d come here to follow up on a lead, and he needed all his free time to do it.

“Do you remember what I told you when I hired you?” Hamilton was flushed red with anger.

“I am doing what you told me to, but I draw the line at following Christopherson around outside of work. I’m keeping an eye on him. I’m reporting to you. Am I not?”

Hamilton’s eyes flashed. “What about his phone?”

Kage took a deep breath. This was ridiculous. Why was he wasting time on these humans? He had a job to do. People were dying, and he needed to stop it. Sometimes he needed the resources being a detective granted him, but it was the only reason he came here every day.

“I will not go through his phone.” Christopherson texted, and sometimes he did it with a soft smile on his lips. Kage was pretty sure there was a special someone or at least a fuck buddy, but he would not check. Reporting his every movement to their boss was invasion enough.

“I know he’s hiding something.”

“He’s doing his job. I know you don’t like him, but he is doing his job. If he’s sexting his boyfriend on his lunch break, I don’t want to read the conversation or look at the dick picks, okay? If he does something he’s not supposed to, I’ll tell you. You know I will.” Or he hoped he believed he would. Christopherson was a good detective. Kage had never caught him doing something he shouldn’t, and he doubted he ever would. It didn’t mean Christopherson was perfect, but he was careful around Kage. Which, given the circumstances, was a good call on his part.

“Fine. How’s the case with the stolen motorcycle coming along?”

How was this his life? “No leads so far.”

“Miles Parrow reported having seen one of the bartenders loitering near the parking lot when he’d been on his break.”

Miles Parrow was the shop manager at Myrfolk’s one and only grocery shop. Kage had had the misfortune of talking to him a few times. He too, for some reason, despised Christopherson. It was interesting. Kage didn’t see why Christopherson had that effect on people. He was fair and straightforward, which made him easy to be around in Kage’s opinion. “Christopherson had a chat with him, and we’re heading to the community first thing tomorrow morning.”

“And give them time to hide the evidence? No, go now.”

It was late. Christopherson had been packing up when Kage came in here, he might have left already. Fuck. “Fine.”

Kage sprinted toward the door, Christopherson had one hand on the door handle, bag slung over his shoulder, and his phone to his ear. He’d removed his tie for the day. Kage sighed.

“Christopherson!”

He turned around, said something into the phone, then held it away from his ear while waiting for Kage to close the distance between them. “We’re heading to the community.” He grimaced to tell him it wasn’t his idea, but Christopherson’s expression didn’t change.

“Tomorrow wasn’t soon enough?”

“He’s afraid evidence will be hidden.”

Christopherson sighed, then he held the phone to his ear. “Sorry, I have to work a little longer.”

Kage could make out a voice on the other end, but not the words.

“Yeah. See you in a bit.” Christopherson hung up and gave Kage an unimpressed look.

“Hot date?”

No change in his expression. Kage guessed he deserved that. He’d never pictured himself as a rat, and he liked to believe he did a good job of not giving Hamilton anything real, but he didn’t blame Christopherson for not wanting to share anything with him.

In other places he’d worked, there had been beers after work, barbecues on the weekends, and so on. Here he was alone. Being alone had never bothered him, but he was fucking lonely, and it was starting to get to him. He never surrounded himself with hoards of people, but no matter where he went, he usually found someone to hang out with when he got lonely. Not here.

* * * *

Gilbert Neumann was up on the wall by the gate, in the section he most often worked when on guard duty. “Car coming.” He looked down at Clara, who was on the ground inside the iron-wrought gate. She’d most likely heard it already. Wolves had better hearing than vampires did, and while she was old, he believed she still picked up on sounds quicker than he did.

She waved a hand and smiled. Her gray hair was tied back in a knot, but there were always a few strands escaping.

They didn’t have many old people within the walls, and maybe he should be concerned about being paired with Clara as often as he was—if something happened, she wasn’t the best backup—but he wasn’t. What she lacked in agility—and in all honesty, she was more agile than most humans and several times stronger despite her age—she made up for in experience. There were few things she hadn’t been through before.

The car came closer, an unmarked cop car. They seldom had visitors out here, and it was a small town. Everyone knew the unmarked cop car was a cop car. “Cops, call Gertrude.”

Clara stepped into the small room underneath him where they normally put deliveries for people to come and pick up. This time of year, there weren’t many grocery orders thanks to Rue and Chaton’s work in the garden and Esme’s ordering dried goods in bulk and selling it at a cheaper price than the grocery store in town.

They’d had a few rough years in the community, but for the first time in a long time, Gilbert was hopeful. Not about the world. It was all going to shit, but life within the walls was getting better. More and more people realized they had to provide for themselves. They couldn’t rely on the outside, and while they were too many on a too small an area of land to ever be self-sufficient, they were making the best out of what they had.

Rue and Chaton grew as many vegetables as they could. Rue was a magic user with an affinity for plants, which helped, and Chaton was into preserving things which came in handy in the winter. Namir was going crazy with chickens, and while they hadn’t seen any eggs yet, Asher, a fellow vampire and Chaton’s partner, had told him the plan was for there to be eggs in the crates as soon as Namir’s chickens started laying.

There were other solutions too. Jasper had built a greenhouse out of old windows, and while it wasn’t big enough to grow things to feed the community, he’d experimented with growing cold-hardy things through the winter and had some success with kale and stuff. Not Gilbert’s favorite, but when hunger clawed in your belly, anything was better than nothing.

The car came to a stop by the gate, and Oscar stepped out—or he guessed he was Detective Christopherson right now. Gilbert jumped down since Clara was still in the room, most likely speaking to Gertrude on the phone.

“Chief.” He nodded at Oscar, then glanced at his work partner and refrained from opening the gate.

“Gilbert.” Oscar nodded. “Calm evening?”

“It was until you showed up.” He didn’t smile. He rarely smiled, and he didn’t see a reason to in this situation.

“Detective Marrone and I need to talk to everyone who tended the bar at The Virgin Drop.” He ended the statement with a wince, and Gilbert slowly raised one eyebrow.

All vampires, apart from Noah and Asher, had worked at The Virgin Drop when it was still up and running. It was a vampire bar, not a blood bar. It had been a blood bar before Gertrude had bought it, but as soon as they’d taken over, they’d made it into an ordinary bar with a vampire theme.

It had been blown to pieces a year ago.

Gilbert kept quiet until Clara exited the room, which was long enough to make both Oscar and Detective Marrone squirm.

“Boss lady will be with us in a minute.” Clara smiled at Oscar. “Having a rough night, dear? You look—” She cut herself off and glanced at Detective Marrone.

“I’m fine, Clara. Believed I’d be done for the day by now, but you know how it is.” Gilbert wondered if there was a conflict between Oscar and the new guy. They stood a little too far apart, were a little too stiff, and while Oscar was pleasant to Clara, he wasn’t smiling the way he normally did.

“Sheriff, to what do we owe the honor?” Gertrude came walking toward the gate, and if there ever had been any doubt about this being an official visit, it had vanished now.

“Sorry to bother you at this time of day, Gertrude. We need to chat to all vampires apart from Asher and Noah.”

Gilbert didn’t change his facial expression, but if Oscar wanted to give his partner the idea he didn’t spend all his free time within the walls, then maybe he should pretend not to know everyone’s name and what they did or had done for a living.

Gertrude’s gaze hardened. “Why?”

“We have a—”

“Ms. Pechtold.” Detective Marrone took a step forward, and Gertrude scrunched her nose. Gilbert pulled in a breath and scented the horrible cologne Oscar always wore when he worked mixed with a strong scent of lemon. Poor shifters. If he could scent it this clearly, they’d be drowning in it.

If Marrone noticed, he pretended not to. “We need to speak to those who worked the bar at The Virgin Drop.”

Gertrude looked at him, then focused on Oscar. “What’s going on?”

To Gilbert’s surprise, Oscar turned a little to conceal his face from Marrone and rolled his eyes, then he spoke in his cop voice. “There is an ongoing investigation, and we have evidence pointing to the community. We need to speak to Gilbert—he gestured at him—Jasper, Gabriel, Lucille, and Alice.”

Gertrude looked at him for a long time. “On community land, and I’m sitting in on the interviews.”

Oscar nodded without so much as looking at Marrone.

“Fine.” Gertrude nodded. “We’ll be in the delivery room.” Then she turned to Clara. “Can you call them here?”

She nodded and gave Oscar a small smile.

“We’ll start with Gilbert.” Gertrude gestured at him. He didn’t want to. Whatever they wanted to pin on him, he hadn’t done it. And while he trusted Oscar not to jump to any conclusions, he didn’t know Marrone.