Release Day | He Melted Us

So… two days ago He Melted Us was re-released. I wrote posts for Holly’s blog and Nell’s blog, and I have checked off having written a post for my blog… turns out I never wrote anything. Yesterday morning, I thought how strange that I haven’t seen any notifications from the blog – not strange at all since I haven’t posted anything here. 

I could’ve written something right away when I noticed I’d messed up, but Nell was coming for a visit, so I figured it was best to let her post have that day. One more day wouldn’t make much of a difference. 

He Melted Us is once again on the shelves, yay! It’s a crazy little tale about Delron and Phillipe and their love lock on Pont des Art.  

The lock goes missing, and Delron has this crazy idea about their relationship being doomed because of it. It’s doomed because of how Delron acts, not the lock, but he doesn’t see it. So instead, he’s on a quest to get the lock back.  

I laughed a lot while writing it, but it is quite insane. 

He Melted Us Paris


Delron leaned against one of the two stone pillars by the gate of École des Beaux-Arts. On each pillar a carve-stone human head was seated, looking out over the city. 

He needed to get into the courtyard. He didn’t think it would be a problem, there were already a few cars parked in there, but his heart was beating fast. Is it theft if I steal back the lock that was stolen from me? 

With a deep breath, he walked in between the two stone pillars. He crossed the cobblestone courtyard and tried to look like he belonged. He should have thought about what art students wear. Jeans and a cotton shirt probably wouldn’t help him blend in. He should’ve put on a turtleneck and a beret or something. Too late now. 

He stopped by the large arched door in the centre of the building. It was the only door that looked like a proper entrance, but he didn’t know if the students used it. He didn’t want to barge right in if it would make him look suspicious. In the end he went in anyway. 

The air was cool inside the building. Delron hardly dared to breathe. His footsteps echoed as he went. A woman hurried down the corridor without paying him any attention, and he let out a sigh of relief. Maybe they wouldn’t question why he was here. Maybe people came in here all the time. 

Before he knew it, he was standing in la Cour Vitrée, the glassed-over courtyard in le Palais des Études. He didn’t know if the students were anywhere near, or where their studios were, but he figured they would be somewhere close by. 

The impressive room, so much larger than he’d envisaged, took his breath away. The glass ceiling and the blue pillars that held it up made him stop to stare. The room—if you could call an indoor courtyard a room—was lined with white marble sculptures. Even on the second floor, he could see sculptures through arches in the walls. The room reminded him of a church—a shrine of art. 

He spent a few minutes there. Even though he knew nothing about art, it was hard to move on, but he was on a mission. The love of his life was more important than glass ceilings and marble sculptures. 

Sneaking around was not easy, especially not when he was trying to look like he knew where he was going. Delron wandered the buildings of marble floors and pillars, not knowing in which direction he was supposed to go or in which building to start. 

Sometimes he got lost in the ceiling paintings or a sculpture that caught his attention. But as he turned a corner in one of the side buildings, he knew he was close. He could feel it in his gut—their lock was here. In one of the rooms lining the corridor, he would find his happiness, his future, his love. He would walk out of here, and he and Phillipe would be able to continue their lives as if nothing had happened. 

Eager, he hurried to the first open door he could see. He heard voices coming from inside. 

He glanced into the room. The smell was one he remembered from art lessons in school, paint and something else—a cleaning agent, perhaps. He breathed in. He’d always liked art class, not that he was any good, but it was nice to get away from the usual reading and writing stuff. 

He took in the room—the large windows made it pleasantly light. There were students standing in a ring. Everyone had an easel in front of them and a paintbrush in hand. This was not a sculpture studio. 

The teacher looked up, her hair bun so tight it must hurt. “May I help you?” She did nothing to hide the annoyance in her tone, and her nasal voice grated on Del’s nerves. He smiled and shook his head before hurrying along. Shit, I’ve been spotted. 


He hurried down the corridor, searching for a door to open or a turn he could take. The sound of her heels masked the soft murmur of the students. 


Delron ran. Shit! I haven’t even found the right studio yet. 

If only he could find where he should go, then he could come back later and fetch the lock. 

He dodged into the classroom. It opened without any problem—thank God! He closed the door and turned around to see what kind of room he’d ended up in. 

About thirty pairs of curious eyes turned his way. The room looked much like an ordinary classroom. A middle-aged man was standing by the whiteboard, marker in hand. 

Sorry to interrupt.” Delron panted as he searched for something to say. “You don’t happen to have a marker pen? I seem to have lost mine.” He straightened his back and tried to look like a professor of some sort. 

Of course.” The man smiled and handed Delron the pen he held in his hand before he reached for a new one on the desk. 

Thank you so much, you’ve saved me.” Who knew, maybe he had. 

Delron left the classroom, still afraid of running into the woman from the studio, but he tried not to let it show. 

He went back the way he’d come. There were so many doors he hadn’t tried. A few of them had signs stating their purpose, while others hadn’t. He stopped outside one that said ‘Studio IV’ and put his ear against the cool surface of the wooden door—not a sound. Excitement grew in his chest. The room was empty, he would be able to go in there, take the lock, and go back home. He smiled as he thought about how he would give Phillipe the lock. He might say he didn’t care, but Delron knew that wasn’t true—it couldn’t be. Maybe he should cook something romantic or take him out to a restaurant. He would put the lock in a box, have it gift-wrapped. Then he would seduce Phil; it had been a long time. 

He tried the door handle—locked. This wasn’t part of the plan. He tried it again with a little more force, rattled the door. Fucking door! 

He took a step back, aimed for a spot right below the lock, and kicked with all his force. He’d seen it loads of times in movies, the door always flew open—a few wooden splinters as a result, but he would be out of there before anyone noticed. All he needed was to get in, grab his lock, and go. 

The impact as his foot hit the wood was much more forceful than he’d anticipated. He lost his balance, tried to regain it by waving his arms, and fell backwards. His head bounced on the marble floor, and the world went black. 


hemeltedusAll Delron Chastain wants is to live his life with Phillipe, but when their love lock is stolen from Pont des Art, their relationship is in jeopardy. Without the lock holding them together, Delron is convinced they’ll crash and burn. The only way he can save their relationship is to find the stolen lock, and that is what he plans to do, no matter what.

Phillipe Lebeau loves Delron, but a padlock is simply a piece of metal, and Delron not seeing that is driving him insane. The lock has nothing to do with them. Their life was great until the night the lock was stolen, and Del’s crazy behaviour makes Phillipe question if he’s ever really known him.

Delron’s search leads him through an art-filled Paris. Will recovering the symbol of their love be enough to soothe the mistrust his quest has planted in Phillipe? Phillipe believed he’d spend the rest of his life with Del. But who can live with anyone willing to break the law simply to find an old rusty padlock?

Buy links:

Gay Romance: 16,930 words

JMS Books :: Amazon ::


Guest Post | All I’ll Ever See by Nell Iris


Hello everyone. It’s me. Nell. Back again to talk about my new-ish book, All I’ll Ever See. And by new-ish, I mean it’s an expanded, rewritten version of my previously published short freebie All I See, with close to 10k new words added. But before I start blabbering about it, I want to say thank you for having me to our lovely hostess Ofelia  

The idea for the original story, All I See, came from a picture in my Instagram feed: two guys dressed in fancy suits stood facing each other, holding hands, half-hidden between two trees. The what-ifs and whys flooded my brain immediately. Why are they hiding? What if they can’t be out? What if their relationship is a secret from everyone important in their lives?  

Once, I kept a pretty big secret from my friends and family. When I decided to try and make the old dream of being an author come true, only my husband and daughter knew, I told no one else. At first, it was because I was afraid of failure. What if I wasn’t good enough? Putting myself out there through my words was hard enough without the questions that would inevitably come about my writing, that however well-meaning, would be hard to answer. Especially if I failed.  

But after a while, when it turned out I didn’t suck and I’d signed my first contract and published my first story, I still didn’t tell people, because I kind of liked that it was something I did for myself. But even so, it was difficult to hide such a huge part of my life. When I spoke on the phone with my mom, she asked How do you spend your days? every time, since I didn’t have a day job in Malaysia, and she thought I was just being lazy all day long. And I couldn’t tell her that I spent hours and hours every day writing or researching or promoting or doing any of the other things authors need to do. And even if I’d chosen to keep the secret, it was difficult to hide such a significant part of who I was, because as time went past, I started identifying as Nell the Author instead of just regular old Nell. So eventually I needed to share that part of me with the people in my life.  

Kieran’s, one of the MCs in All I’ll Ever See, secret is much bigger. He’s gay in a conservative family that doesn’t approve of homosexuality. So he hides that side of himself from everyone…until that night he can’t stop himself from kissing the man he loves. Risking everything, his job, the relationship with his family. How can he choose between being his true self and his family? How can he deny the love of his life? Will the secret eventually become too big for them, and what happens if it does?  

All I'll Ever See - Everything


The night Kieran bangs on Theo’s door and kisses him changes both their lives forever. Theo has never been in the closet, but Kieran isn’t out and risks losing everything—his inheritance, his relationship with his family—should his parents find out. 

But their feelings for each other can’t be denied, and Theo agrees to keeping their budding relationship a secret. But can their love grow and flourish when hidden away in the dark? Or will it wilt and die before they have a chance to live happily ever after? 

M/M Contemporary / 14 434 words  

Buy links:  

JMS Books :: Amazon :: Books2Read 

All I'll Ever See by Nell Iris

About Nell 

Nell Iris is a romantic at heart who believes everyone deserves a happy ending. She’s a bonafide bookworm (learned to read long before she started school), wouldn’t dream of going anywhere without something to read (not even the ladies room), loves music (and singing along at the top of her voice but she’s no Celine Dion), and is a real Star Trek nerd (Make it so). She loves words, bullet journals, poetry, wine, coffee-flavored kisses, and fika (a Swedish cultural thing involving coffee and pastry!) 

Nell believes passionately in equality for all regardless of race, gender or sexuality, and wants to make the world a better, less hateful, place. 

Nell is a bisexual Swedish woman married to the love of her life, a proud mama of a grown daughter, and is approaching 50 faster than she’d like. She lives in the south of Sweden where she spends her days thinking up stories about people falling in love. After dreaming about being a writer for most of her life, she finally was in a place where she could pursue her dream and released her first book in 2017. 

Nell Iris writes gay romance, prefers sweet over angsty, short over long, and quirky characters over alpha males.  

Find Nell on social media: 

Newsletter :: Webpage/blog :: Twitter :: Instagram :: Facebook Page :: Facebook Profile :: Goodreads :: Bookbub 


After six, as I’m on my third mug of coffee and putting the cinnamon rolls into the oven to bake, the thump of feet hitting the floor reaches my ears. It’s quickly followed by padding footsteps and the door to the bathroom opening and closing. 
All the muscles in my body freeze up at once, and I forget how to breathe for a second. The moment of truth is here, and I’ll soon have the answers to my questions whether I want them or not. I shiver, not entirely sure if it’s because I’m too hot or cold, and I almost manage to trap my hand in the oven door when I close it. Then I just stand there, having completely forgotten what I was doing. 
A glimpse of my mug from the corner of my eye brings me back to reality. 
I grab it too quickly and hot liquid sloshes over the rim, splashing on my fingers. “Goddammit,” I mutter between clenched teeth, slam down the mug on the countertop — spilling more coffee, of course — then grab a bunch of paper towels and start cleaning up, huffing at my carelessness. 
I’m probably too busy being hard on myself to notice the padding feet approaching the kitchen because I jump at the deep, raspy “Good morning,” behind me, and my heart rate speeds up until it’s hovering in dangerous, heart-attack-inducing territories. 
“Good morning,” I whisper, not turning around, my body tensing as though I’m waiting for a blow. 
This is it. The moment I’ve been fretting over all night, the moment that’ll change my life forever in one way or another. 
Kieran comes closer until I can feel his warmth along my back, making the hairs on my neck stand up and a shiver racing along my spine. 
“May I touch you?” he asks in a rough morning voice. My mouth isn’t cooperating, so I just nod, and his warm hands land on my waist. “Is this okay?” 
I nod again; my words are trapped in my throat and refuse to come out. 
What does this mean? Is he trying to say he meant what he said yesterday? Is he trying to let me down gently? Not knowing is driving me crazy. 
“Breathe.” He steps closer to me, pressing himself against my back, and I drag a stuttering breath into my lungs. 
“Will you please turn around?” 
“Sure,” I say but stay frozen to the spot. He must realize I’m unable to move because he walks us a couple steps back, then slides between me and the counter until we’re finally face to face. 
God, he’s even more beautiful when sleep-rumpled. He has crease marks from the pillow on his cheek, his stubble glitters on his skin, his hair is wild as though he’s stuck his fingers into a wall socket, and his gaze … His gaze is warm and fond and melted, and he doesn’t take his eyes off me even for a second. 
“Oh, Theo, did you even sleep?” His tone is gentle. 
I shake my head as the timer goes off. “Excuse me,” I mumble and slink out of his grip, then take the cinnamon rolls out of the oven. “Are you hungry?” I ask, back turned to him again. “I baked. And there’s coffee.” 
“Do you want me to leave?” 
His question makes me whirl around. “No. Why would you ask that?” 
“Because you don’t want to look at me and you seem … uncomfortable.” 
I shake my head, still not able to string together a complete sentence. 
“I’m sorry I barged in here like this. For kissing and touching you without consent. It was unforgivable and I regret it.” 
His words are a blow to my hopeful heart, and I stumble. “I understand,” I say, then sucking my lower lip into my mouth to stop it from trembling. And I do understand, it’s not like I wasn’t prepared for this scenario. It’s what I’ve been worrying about all night, after all. 
He reaches out to me, movements slow and careful as though he fears I’ll bolt like a skittish animal. I can’t meet his gaze, but I can’t move away either. 
“I don’t think you do,” he says, voice low and soft as he coaxes my lip out from between my teeth. “I regret the way it happened, but I don’t regret finally kissing you.” 


Fridays at Ofelia’s | Electric Candle by Elizabeth Noble


Today, Elizabeth Noble is here to share a little from her story, Electric Candle. Welcome, Elizabeth!


Hello and thank you Ofelia for hosting me today!

I’m Elizabeth Noble and I write in a variety of genres, but paranormal romance and romantic thrillers are the category most of my books fall into. All my books are MM and always have a HEA!

I cowrote a paranormal romance/urban fantasy series, The Sleepless City, with Anne Barwell. I wrote books two and four of the series, Electric Candle and Shifting Chaos.

When Anne and I were planning our series, we knew that all the books would feature soulmates and fated mates as a major plot element throughout the stories.

My pair of soulmates are both vampires. Jonas Forge has been a vampire for nearly 200 years. Blair Turner for less than a decade. They’re driven by nature to soulbond with each other. Soulbonds and fated mates don’t require dating and trying to meet the right person. That’d be great except these two guys barely know each other and one of these men is already in a relationship!

A basic premise of Electric Candle is what happens if fated mates aren’t perfect for each other?

When I was writing this book, I wanted to do something a little different than ‘they meet, and everything is automatically hearts and flowers and love at first sight’ sort of story. I asked myself the question, what happens if fated mates aren’t thrilled with each other? It’s one thing to have preordained feelings of love for another person. It’s quite another to learn to like the person you’re destined to spend the rest of what could be a very long life with.

Forge’s current role in life is as a homicide detective for the town of Boggslake. He not only hunts human criminals but supernatural ones as well. It’s during an investigation that his soulmate, Blair, arrives unannounced in Boggslake. Forge and Blair aren’t complete strangers. Over the years Blair offered Forge, and others, information on their investigations of supernatural criminals. Except Blair and Forge have never met in person, only via a voice connection over the internet. Neither one knows the other is a vampire. The real surprise is learning they’re soulmates!

Of course, they discover the other’s true nature when they meet in person. Forge and Blair are two completely opposite personalities. Blair’s only understanding of what being a vampire means is comes from pop culture. Forge has lived the majority of his two hundred plus years as a vampire. Things are complicated because Forge has been in love with another vampire, a man named Declan, for almost as long. Being soulbonded to another man creates an interesting conflict for everyone involved.

Forge and Blair travel a bumpy, imperfect path to becoming real partners, taking them a step beyond soulmates to friends, as well as lovers. It doesn’t happen overnight and it’s not a painless process, but one that makes them both stronger as individuals and as a soulbonded pair.


No one was there, yet Forge couldn’t shake the feeling he wasn’t alone. He wandered down the beach a few yards. Water splashing against the shore and spraying made him go closer for a better look. The lake’s edge here wasn’t gently sloping sand but a sharp lip of concrete. Hunkering on the ledge, Forge leaned over for a look.  
The wall ran a good half mile in either direction. He could see large spots that were darker than the surrounding area. Forge had read about the secret rooms constructed all along Lake Erie during Prohibition. Illegal booze and guns were stashed in them. One could only access the rooms by going under water. At high tide, many of the outer parts of the rooms were completely submerged. He’d never been in one.  
More than likely he’d have to get wet to justify the expense of divers. Forge was still contemplated getting a dive team in when he heard shouting.  
“Stop. Wait!”  
The voice sounded familiar, but Forge couldn’t place it. That always made him nuts. Turning, he looked up at the top of the stairs. Then he squinted and shook his head. Who belonged to the voice made him stare in a type of horrified wonder, like one looked at a train wreck.  
The fact his cock picked then to persistently remind him of its presence and give a few twitches and throbs didn’t help.  
It was a man, though the horror Forge was feeling might have been less if it’d been a woman. He wore what appeared to be homemade steampunk goggles with dark lenses, a long sleeved black shirt, and black jeans.  
“Sweet mother of God, is that a cape?” Forge muttered and took a few steps forward. “No, stop, don’t—”  
It was too late. The oddly dressed man began to run down the steps—the slippery, wet steps, waving his arms. He’d gone about three steps when his feet slid out from under him and his rear hit the stone stairs. The man yelped, and Forge’s cock gave another twitch. He had the fleeting thought of how disturbing on several levels that was.  
“What the hell?” Forge ran to the bottom of the stairs.  
Bouncing head over heels down the steps, the guy finally flopped to one side and rolled the remainder of the way down, finishing his descent with a hearty splash in the chilly lake water.  
Floundering and shouting, the man slapped the lake’s surface, went under, bobbed up, and spit water out of his mouth, and garbled, “Can’t… swim.”  
Throwing his arms wide, Forge grumbled, “It’s not as if vampires drown.”  
The guy went under, the water churned, but he didn’t come to the surface. Jerking his jacket off and dropping it to the ground, Forge made sure his phone was with the garment.  
“This has got to be a joke. A really bad joke.” Forge ran to the edge and dove in. The only thing that prevented him from ejaculating the second his fingers touched the man was the cold water. He shuddered when he pulled the guy against his chest and wrapped one arm around him, using the other to help propel them to the surface.  
When he got to the concrete edge, he hefted the guy over and onto the ground. Forge hoisted himself out of the water and hit the guy, who looked to be in his twenties, between the shoulder blades to expel lake water.  
A shiver and spark of electricity ran from Forge’s palm and coursed down his spine to settle in his groin.  
This couldn’t be his soulmate. Yet even as he finished that thought, he knew, and there was no denying what his body was telling him. The fool dressed as some superhero wannabe in a really bad outfit was Jonas Forge’s mate for eternity.  
Forge wondered if other vampires would penalize him for killing his soulmate. 



When a vampire finds his soulmate, the bond is forever. It’s love at first sight.

Or is it?

Homicide Detective Jonas Forge has been a vampire for centuries. He’s fought wars, seen life go from the simple colonial days to the modern high-tech world. He’s evolved with the times, adapted to each new era, blended into each new life. The one constant is his best friend, mentor, and lover, Declan. Even though not fated to bond as soulmates, Forge and Declan are happy and settled in their life together.

Until Forge’s real soulmate falls, literally, into his life.

Forge isn’t thrilled with the guy, despite the pheromones attracting them to each other, and the feeling seems mutual. While trying to adjust to his clumsy soulmate and equally awkward feelings, Forge is also on the hunt for a serial-killer witnesses can’t identify who’s leaving a trail of bodies in its wake.

Will the bond Forge is finally forming with his soulmate be destroyed when the hunter becomes the victim?

If you like fated mates who aren’t perfect for each other, a paranormal killer who might not be caught and found families then you’ll love Elizabeth Noble’s Electric Candle.

Author’s note: This book was originally published in 2014 by another publisher. This edition has been revised and re-edited.

Electric Candle by Elizabeth Noble

A found family of supernaturals protects humanity from the stuff of nightmares.

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About Elizabeth Nobel

Elizabeth NobleMystery, action, chills, and thrills spiced with romance and desire. ELIZABETH NOBLE lives by the adage “I can’t not write.” She doesn’t remember a time when she didn’t make up stories and eventually she learned how to put words on a page. Those words turned into books and fan fiction that turned into a genuine love of M/M fiction. A part of every day is spent living in worlds she created that are filled with intrigue and espionage. She has a real love for a good mystery complete with murder and twisty plots as well as all things sci-fi, futuristic, and supernatural.

When she’s not chronicling the adventures of her many characters, Elizabeth is a veterinary nurse living in her native Cleveland, Ohio. She has three grown children and now happily shares her little, brick house with two spunky Cardigan Welsh Corgis and their feline sidekicks. Elizabeth is a fan of baseball, basketball (go Cavs and Guardians) and gardening. She can often be found working in her ‘outside office’ listening to classic rock and plotter her next novel waiting for it to be dark enough to gaze at the stars.

Elizabeth has received a number of amateur writing awards. Since being published, several of her novels have received Honorable Mentions in the Rainbow Awards. Jewel Cave was a runner-up in the Gay Mystery/Thriller category in the 2015 Rainbow Awards. Ringed Love was a winner in the Gay Fantasy Romance category of the 2016 Rainbow Awards.

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