PROMO: Skythane (Audiobook!)


Skythane (audio)

J. Scott Coatsworth has a new MM sci-fi romance audiobook out, Oberon Cycle book one: Skythane. And there’s a giveaway.

Jameson Havercamp, a psych from a conservative religious colony, has come to Oberon—unique among the Common Worlds—in search of a rare substance called pith. He’s guided through the wilds on his quest by Xander Kinnison, a handsome, cocky wing man with a troubled past.

Neither knows that Oberon is facing imminent destruction. Even as the world starts to fall apart around them, they have no idea what’s coming—or the bond that will develop between them as they race to avert a cataclysm.

Together, they will journey to uncover the secrets of this strange and singular world, even as it takes them beyond the bounds of reality itself to discover what truly binds them together.

Warnings: past abuse, past suicidal ideation.

About the Series:

Oberon is unique among the Common Worlds – a half-world with a strange past and an uncertain future.

Jameson Havercamp and Xander Kinnson are thrust into the middle of a world-ending event and have to scramble to save the world – and themselves.

Along the way, they peel back the layers of the onion to discover secrets wrapped in secrets that will eventually take them to where it all started – and may provide the key to saving Oberon and everyone on it.

Get It On Amazon | Universal Buy Link

Print/eBook Links:

Amazon Kindle | Barnes and Noble Nook | Apple Books | Kobo | Payhip | Scribd | Thalia | Smashwords | Vivlio


Scott is giving away a signed print first edition of the trilogy to one lucky winner:

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Audio Excerpt:



Skythane Meme - Wicked Faerie

Xander’s bike flew over the crowded streets of Oberon City. It was midmorning, as far as Jameson could tell from the slanting rays of sunshine over the city.

The wind whipped through his hair, making a rat’s nest of it. He was going to look a mess when he arrived at the OberCorp Headquarters, but there was nothing to be done for it. He mollified himself with the thought that it was the company representative’s fault.

Jameson clung to Xander’s waist, uncomfortable at being so close to the other man, but terrified all the same to loosen his grip. The man’s wings settled in around him like a feathered blanket.

Xander Kinnson had wings—he was a skythane man.

Sure, the whole wings thing had been in the briefing, but reading it and seeing it in person were two very different things. They were beautiful, running up from his shoulder blades into the sky when he had them extended, and powerful. The dark feathers glimmered with an iridescent sheen in the sunlight.

Jameson didn’t think he would have the courage to fly—hoverbike flight was unnerving enough. And yet… wings.

They whipped past heavy armored transports and automated delivery trucks that rode the streets below them, mixed in with pedestrians and even some wagons and rickshaws, as strange an assortment of traffic as he had ever seen in one place.

“We’re going to Oberon Corp Headquarters, right?” he shouted at Xander over the noise. He hated shouting.

“What?” Xander shouted back.

“OberCorp Headquarters?”

“Sorry. Can’t hear you!”

Jameson gave up. He settled in to observe the city around him.

The huge arcos formed a virtual blue metallic wall ahead that began to block out the sunlight as the hoverbike moved closer. They were impressive in their uniformity, reminding him of the statues of Easter Island he’d visited during his trip to Old Earth.

From this vantage point, the city seemed much bigger than it had looked from the shuttle flying in, but outside of the impressive architecture of the arcos, the rest of Oberon City was made up of much less impressive, shorter buildings, with the tallest of these topping out around fifteen stories. They were in varied states of decay, with broken windows and rusted stanchions, some of them overrun by wild vines. The city looked like it was badly in need of an urban renewal project—a few buildings were in such bad shape that Jameson was amazed they hadn’t already collapsed under their own weight.

After about fifteen minutes, Xander’s bike slowly dipped down to the ground, coming to a landing between a couple of low buildings. They arrived at a nondescript three-story, concrete-slab structure that would have fit into almost any urban cityscape. It was made entirely out of prefab plascreet panels like all the other ugly buildings around it.

Xander palmed a sensor next to the metal roll-up door and it chugged up noisily, revealing a storage space maybe three meters wide by about three times that length deep. He pulled the bike inside and parked it, beckoning for Jameson to dismount.

Jameson did as he was told, though he was starting to get worried. When it came right down to it, he knew nothing about this man, having taken Xander at his word that he really was a representative of OberCorp.

How could he know for sure?

The idea nagged at him.

The man might be a pirate who preyed upon unsuspecting arrivals at the immigration center. He certainly fit the profile—standoffish, antisocial, certain he was always right. Jameson had seen that many times before in his practice. Then again, most sociopaths were more social.

At least he’d made it to the city now. It might be best to get out of here and find his own way to OberCorp.

Jameson started to back slowly out of the storage unit, away from Xander. He could make a run for it.

“Stay right there,” Xander said without turning, his voice sharp. “This is a bad part of town. It’s dangerous, especially for off-worlders who don’t know any better.”

Jameson looked out onto the street nervously. Oberon City was a lot grittier at ground level than it had appeared from the shuttle—the pavement looked petrochemical based, and it was uneven and black, so different from the beautiful marble streets back on Beta Tau. Some dark fluid flowed in fits and starts down the gutters, and it gave off a nasty smell: part urine, part hydrocarbons, part rotting food.

He was overdressed for such squalor. “Are there any good parts?” He stepped back inside with a sniff.

Xander snorted. He’d set aside Jameson’s suitcase, and was now rummaging around through some plas containers at the back of the storage unit. He pulled out something and threw it over the back of the bike.

It looked like the saddlebags that Jameson’s parents used with horses on their estate to carry supplies or foodstuffs for picnics or hunting trips into the Holywood.

Xander pulled out a knife and used it to pry open Jameson’s suitcase, setting off the luggage’s alarm. Xander snarled and kicked it until the sound died down to an irritated chirp.

“Hey… what are you doing?” Jameson reached out to stop him, but Xander pushed him back, knife in hand. “You can’t wear that where we’re going.” He indicated Jameson’s clothing with the same disdain Jameson himself had used for the hoverbike. He rummaged through the clothes in the suitcase. “None of this will do.” Xander turned to size Jameson up, head to toe. “I think I have something that will work.” He returned to going through the bins at the back of the unit.

“What do you mean, this won’t do? I’ve met with upper-level management in the Psych Guild on numerous occasions, dressed just like this—”

“We’re not meeting with management.” Xander returned with an armful of clothes. “Here, put these on.”

“I must insist that you take me to OberCorp Headquarters right now and—”

Xander dropped the new clothes on the dirty floor and ripped Jameson’s button-down shirt right up the middle, exposing his bare chest. His wings flared out behind him, and he gave Jameson an evil grin. “Change. Now.”

Jameson tried to stare him down, but there was an angry gleam in the man’s eyes that he decided he didn’t want to challenge. He lowered his eyes and picked up the new clothing. “Is there a place for me to change, at least?” He was not getting naked in front of this barbarian.

Author Bio

J. Scott Coatsworth

Scott lives with his husband Mark in a yellow bungalow in Sacramento. He was indoctrinated into fantasy and sci fi by his mother at the tender age of nine. He devoured her library, but as he grew up, he wondered where all the people like him were.

He decided that if there weren’t queer characters in his favorite genres, he would remake them to his own ends.

A Rainbow Award winning author, he runs Queer Sci Fi, QueeRomance Ink, and Other Worlds Ink with Mark, sites that celebrate fiction reflecting queer reality, and is the committee chair for the Indie Authors Committee at the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA).

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PROMO: Mystic Guardian (Audiobook)


Mystic Guardian Audiobook - Mary Rundle

Mary Rundle has a new mm paranormal romance out in audiobook format, Blackwood Pack, Book 9: Mystic Guardian.

The Blackwood Pack saga continues…

This is part of an on-going series by Amazon International Bestselling Author, Mary Rundle – catching up on previous titles is advised. Readers of previous books will enjoy meeting old friends once more as the pack does what it does best ̶ caring for one another and helping shifters everywhere.

Carson never dreamed his six bothers would get their fated mates before he did and now, hanging on with the barest of hope he’d be next, he ends up devastated when it doesn’t happen. Unable to cope with seeing so many happy couples around him at the pack house in California, he accepts a job offer in France, intent on building a new life—only to discover the Fates have not forgotten him at all.

After graduating from university, Remy, a low-level warlock leaves the world of magic behind, believing there’s no place in it for him. Encouraged by his parents, to accept a job offer at the Chateau des Flammes winery, he begins working for Arthur MacDùghlas, the dragon shifter owner, finally finding a place for himself in the world.

Happy with his new position, Remy’s life abruptly changes when his parents unexpectedly die and he becomes the guardian of his three younger brothers. Muddling through the unexpected role of fatherhood, he finally finds his footing until…his life is upended once again when Carson, his fated mate arrives on his doorstep.

Shocking surprises, treacherous plots, an action-packed rescue, and many unexpected twists and turns make this passionate love story by Mary Rundle impossible to put down once you’ve read the first page.

Get It On Amazon/Audible


Mary is giving away a $50 Amazon gift card with this tour:

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Direct Link:


Mystic Guardian meme - Mary Rundle

Heading down the stairs, he listened to the ringing, hoping Henri wasn’t under a truck fixing something or other. “C’mon, Henri, pick up!” Someone had it out for him—it was the only explanation he could come up with. He made a mental note to check on who’d left recently—or had been fired.

“Bonjour, Mr. Marchant.”

“Oh, thank the gods!” Remy exclaimed. It seemed luck had not deserted him. “Henri, Fionn MacDùghlas is arriving today and I need you to pick him up at the airport. He’s coming in on a private jet.”

“Oui, Mr. Marchant. When will he be arriving?” asked Henri.

“In less than two hours. Can you do it?”

“Oui, it’ll be tight but I will make it.”

“Good…oh, and you better take the SUV. I’m not sure exactly how many will be with him but I know there’ll be at least one other.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll call when I have picked them up.”

“Thanks, Henri. Drive safe.”

“Always, sir.”

After ending the call, Remy pocketed his phone before stopping in the kitchen to give his brothers a kiss good-bye. “You guys be good for Mrs. B. today,” he warned them, heading for the back door.

“Don’t you worry, Remy, the boys and I will be fine,” Mrs. Beasley said, her voice following him out.

Shutting the door behind him, Remy stopped, sniffing the air. Satisfied, he hurried to his car, climbed in and headed down the service road that would lead him to the winery.

“Sonofabitch!” he muttered, pressing down on the accelerator. Jerking the steering wheel back and forth, Remy tried to avoid the deep ruts left over from the last rainstorm. Making another mental note to have Jules regrade the road, he finally skidded to a stop in front of the building housing the fermenting tanks.

As the dust settled around the car, Remy climbed out, walking over to the locked door. Entering the security code, he waited until he heard the click, then entered, finding Pierre waiting for him just inside. “Did you check the security video, yet?”

“Oui, but there’s nothing.”

“Nothing? You didn’t see who did it?” asked Remy.

“Non,” Pierre answered, “because the video was black. There was nothing on it.”

“How can that be? Did we lose power last night?” asked Remy.

“Not that I can tell. There aren’t any records of alarms last night,” Pierre said. “And the cameras were running but someone blocked the lenses.”

“Fuck! So it must be an inside job if someone knew where the cameras were located.” Heading towards the fermenting room, he said, “Show me what you found.”

“I didn’t see anything out of order until I walked over to this first tank,” Pierre said, gesturing towards a big steel tank just inside the doorway. “When I opened it up to check, I found out it had spoiled—then I saw these,” he said, pointing to a few bugs at the base of the tank. “It’s the same for the next two. That’s when I called you.”

“You didn’t check any others?” asked Remy.

“Non,” Pierre said, “I waited for you.”

“Okay.” Remy walked over to the fourth tank, finding the same bugs on the floor. “Shit! Check this one.” Then he continued down the line finding three more that also had evidence of tampering. By the time they were through checking the rest, Remy counted seven tanks that were contaminated; the wine in them a total loss. “Damn!” he murmured. Standing back, he stared at the crime scene—something wasn’t adding up. Walking up to one tank, he squatted, picking up one of the bugs and rolling it between his fingers. Then laying the palm of his hand on the side of the tank, he closed his eyes, unleashing his other senses to explore. The shock zapping through his hand caused Remy to fall backward, landing on his ass. Holy fucking shit! No wonder the security video was black.

“Hey, what happened? Are you okay?” asked Pierre, offering a hand to help his boss up.

Rising, then brushing off the back of his pants, Remy answered, “Yeah, thanks. Hey, check that tank’s electrical, will you? Make sure there isn’t a short.”

“Sure. What do you want to do with the wine in the seven tanks?”

“Dump it,” Remy ordered, “it’s no use to us. But before you do that, show me the security video from last night.”

Pierre grunted, leading the way back to his office. “The only possibility I came up with was someone put a black cloth over the cameras.”

“Every one?” asked Remy. “What about the ones outside? Did you check those?”

Nodding, Pierre sat down at his desk, pulling up the camera videos on his computer monitor. “See, the cameras are working perfectly,” he said, watching the screen.

“What time did they go black?” asked Remy.

“When the shift changed…2 a.m.”

Remy examined the videos and wasn’t surprised at what he saw, especially after what happened back at the tank. “Okay, I’ve seen enough,” he said, heading towards the door. “I’ll be in my office. I’ll be tied up for most of the day, but I want the guards doubled from now on.”

“I’ll see to it,” Pierre replied, rising from his desk.

Climbing the wooden staircase to his office above the winery tasting room, Remy was deep in thought about what he found. Then sitting down at his desk, he swiveled his chair, his eyes looking out over the vineyards as his mind mulled over a mess of conflicting ideas. Was my instinct right? This was a personal attack meant to cause me harm…especially since it was done on the day the new owner was arriving. It was an easy conclusion to jump to but it didn’t explain the other times. But then, what about what I sensed? That certainly leads to me as the target. And I didn’t find it at the other crime scenes so whoever it is must be targeting me. The question is, why?

Author Bio

Mary Rundle logo

A few years ago, I wrote my first book, Dire Warning. Readers loved it and I was on my way to chronicle the Blackwood Pack, seven brothers who are gay wolf shifters in search of their fated mates—stories about love at first sight with twists and turns, angst and humor, romance and adventure and, of course, happy endings. Since then, the pack has expanded, allowing more stories to be told and different paranormals to be included. The series has become, as one reader described it…an “Epic Saga.”

Now, eleven books later, Blood Prophecy, has just been published. I love the M/M paranormal genre because it gives my imagination a lot of territory in which to roam. My mind can really run wild and come up with some amazing stuff when it doesn’t have to stay inside the box. My story ideas come to me as if they were being channeled by my characters, all of whom I love (except for a few villains). They are eager to recount their lives, loves and adventures, and are not reluctant to let it all out when it comes to revealing steamy details. My writing style is free-wheeling and uninhibited and my readers tell me they love it that way; that it makes them feel like they’re right in on the action and a member of the Blackwood Pack.

I live in the Northeast and love the beautiful change of seasons, my husband, and our quirky calico cat, though not necessarily in that order. I read a lot (good for the mind) and love gardening (good for the soul). And I’m always happy to hear from my readers and can be reached through Facebook, my private Facebook Group, Twitter, Instagram, or my website.

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