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Author Spotlight: JM Paquette

I thought it would be fun for you the reader to learn a little about each of our authors.

So for June I introduce you to JM Paquette.

JM Paquette writes cheesy vampire romance novels filled with action, adventure, intrigue, and sometimes slightly steamy sex scenes. She enjoys alliteration and puns of all kinds.

Jen has her first full length novel in: Klauden’s Ring.

When Hannah van Kreeosk fled from her father’s castle and all of the expectations of being First Daughter, she thought that finding a willing meal would be the worst of her problems. A natural born vampire, she never expected an attack that would leave her wounded and in need of protection. Traveling with the handsome elven warrior Rory Tallerin proves a tempting way to spend her time. Unfortunately, Hannah’s father isn’t quite done with her, and not everyone in Rory’s little band of survivors is what they appear to be. Between running from goblins and her father’s dedicated magician, the last thing Hannah needs is another knife in her back. The conflict in her heart, however, may prove to be the more troubling wound. When forced to choose between the overwhelming demands of her body and the foolishly sentimental desire in her heart, Hannah must discover her true nature.

She has also contributed several stories in the annual Ink Slinger’s Guild Anthologies found here.

You can follow JM at the below links:

Twitter: @authorjmp

Website: http://www.jmpaquette.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/authorjmpaquette

And of course you can always submit a story starter and you might be lucky enough to have JM Paquette be your author!

 

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Hardy’s Pants by JM Paquette

Also for Cliff, but an entirely different genre!

“I have only one question: where did I get these pants?”

The room had fallen silent when the magic went off, people glancing around nervously to see the damage. Sometimes the magic waves did nothing at all; sometimes, there was a lot of blood to clean up. Kitsen looked down at his clothes again, trying to decide if it was only his clothing that has been swapped out, or if the constricting material about his waist and chest was a sign of worse damage. He looked quickly at Nell, with whom he had been reciting the plan a few moments before. She didn’t look horrified, so that was a good sign.

“So, the girl is in the tower?” Fred volunteered helpfully, the young man clearly trying to get the conversation back on track. The rest of the men looked casually away from Kitsen, trying to ignore the magic as much as they could. A man in the back of the room had fallen over and had not gotten back up. No one was willing to touch him and see.

Kitsen nodded distractedly, cautiously pulling at his new outfit, hand reaching up to touch a new earring. “That’s the information I received,” he said, thoughts of glory and rescue and spires and princesses fading as he realized that the clothes he was now wearing were actually starting to affect his breathing. “I can show you…” he paused, trying to catch his breath. “In a moment,” he finished.

“Nell,” he gestured to the woman standing closest to him, “a little help here?” She acquiesced without a word, but her face was slowly turning red, color creeping up from her neck and ears to her cheeks as she took in the amount of bare flesh revealed by the gaps in his new outfit. He stepped towards her, the circle of eager male faces moving aside as he dealt with this newest magical inconvenience.

A quick snap of her blade and the shirt came free. She moved as if to repeat the motion for his pants, but he grabbed her wrist. “I’ve got this part,” he insisted, taking the blade and slicing the material free. As they fell to the floor in a pile of linen, he saw a name carefully written on what remained of the waistband: HARDY.

He thought for a moment, running the name through his memory. He couldn’t recall ever knowing anyone named Hardy, so that was a bit of a relief. Wherever this Hardy was after the magic wave, Kitsen didn’t have to worry about him. Though he spared a thought for the small naked man who must be out there somewhere–maybe he had been covered in Kitsen’s clothes.

“My clothes,” he muttered, annoyance bubbling up at the loss of a perfectly good shirt and pants. The material was new and sturdy and comfortable–and it wasn’t so easy to get good clothes these days, especially for someone as tall as he was. He reached a hand absently for his pocket, trying to touch the reassuring bulge that had occupied his front pocket for the last six days.

He froze as his hand touched bare skin, not registering the shapeless cloak that Nell was holding out in his direction.

The map was gone. How were they supposed to rescue the princess without the freaking map?

Frantic, he knelt and picked up the pants on the floor, shaking them out. A folded piece of faded parchment fell out of a pocket. He lifted it gently, opening it carefully and examined the marks on the inside.

It was still a map.

Hatchmarks were clearly mountains, and Kitsen recognized the Vanya Mountain range to the north. The X marked a cave, and there was a stylized dragon along the side, tail curling around a pile of what appeared to be gold and jewels, smoke rising in long swirls from its huge maw.

“It’s a treasure map,” he whispered, eyes meeting Nell’s, offered cloak and previous embarrassment forgotten.

Nell smiled, a real smile, but then her face grew serious again. “What about the princess?”

“Screw the princess,” Kitsen said, standing up, wrapping the cloak around himself, and tucking the map into a small pocket sewn into the inside. He turned to address the room.

“Hey guys, who wants to go kill a dragon?”

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The Red Glow by JM Paquette

For Lisa Barry

 

“When did you start eating pickles?”

Micah asked, face dim in the reflected glare from the street light on the corner.

Talia closed her mouth, bit her lip, and glared at him. “When did you start being an idiot?” she retorted.

“I must be an idiot,” he moaned, pressing his body against the side of the house. “I’m here with you.”

Talia gave him her sweetest smile. “You know you love it,” she told him, then peeked around the corner. No one waited in the backyard of the house. She could see the shape of the loons perched on the wires leading to the street, but they were silent now. The birds only echoed noises they heard anyway. She and Micah had been quiet, and once they slipped back there, even the light from the street wouldn’t hit them. “Come on,” she waved, and stepped quickly into the shadows behind the house. She felt Micah come up behind her, his hands pressing against her shoulders as he lost the light.

“Hold on to me,” she told him. “The stairs are right over here.”

“This is a bad idea,” Micah complained in her ear.

“Shut up,” she told him. “I know how to get in to my old house. It’s fine.”

“Key word there, sweetheart,” he whispered, fingers tightening as she took a few steps, “Old house. You don’t live here anymore.”

“No, I don’t, but I still know my way around.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he continued. “What I do doubt is that we should be here at all.”

Talia groaned as they reached the concrete pad that marked the bottom of the back stairwell. The window into the basement never locked properly. When she had lived here all those months, this was her way inside if she forgot her keys. She doubted the new owners had noticed it yet. She had only discovered it out of desperation one day, locked out of the house with hours to wait until anyone she knew would be done with school or work to come rescue her.

“Why are we doing this?” Micah asked, staying put while she hunkered down near the window, hands feeling for the right grip.

“I have to know what it is,” she said simply, wishing she could explain better than that.

“It’s a stupid lamp,” Micah insisted. “That’s what you see through the window. A friggin’ red lamp.”

“Who the hell has only a red lamp?” she asked, thinking of the red glow she could see emanating from the kitchen window. She saw it every night as she walked to the new place, the same glow, with the rest of the house shrouded in darkness–not even the porch lights were on, and this was a neighborhood where everyone kept on their lights at night. “It’s the only light that is ever on in this place. And what about the person who lives here now? Have you ever seen him?” She paused, “Or her?”

Micah shook his head, his shadow a dark blur of motion in the darkness. “No, I haven’t. You know why? Because I don’t care. You don’t live here anymore, Talia. Why do you care so much?”

“I have to know,” she said again. “Haven’t you ever wanted to know what your old house looks like after new people move in?”

“Ummm…no,” Micah said decisively.

“Seriously?” she asked. “Strangers living in the rooms you used to live in? You don’t wonder where they put the bed or the couch or the tv?”

“You are crazy,” he scoffed. “Absolutely nuts.”

“Maybe. But I want to see.” She found the bottom of the window and started to slide the glass up. There was no resistance.

“Ok,” he relented, “I get it. You’re curious. But this is called breaking and entering.”

“No one’s even home,” she insisted, settling the window into place. “Are you coming?”

She ducked inside.

Micah groaned, thought of the sex he would never have again if he didn’t follow, and knelt by the window. He could see Talia’s shadow in the basement, her silhouette outlined by a dim red glow that seeped through the gap at the bottom of the basement door.

That was one serious red lamp.

He climbed in carefully, not making any noise, and followed her up the stairs. He managed to get a good look up her short cheerleader’s skirt as she walked, and he was still staring at her backside when she turned around to face him at the top. She rolled her eyes at him, then gestured at the door.

Micah shrugged. In for a penny, he thought, and reached for the door knob.


Outside, a loon screamed.

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