Forbes Mates Rerelease Celebration

Forbes Mates Rerelease Celebration
Grace R. Duncan
find her website here.


Everyone’s got one… But can they keep them?

Join us in celebrating the rerelease of the Forbes Mates books! The celebration tour has a $25 Amazon Gift Card giveaway and lots of fun excerpts from the books. You can follow the tour find her website here. hope you have fun!

Blurb Will Tanner realize he’s wrong and claim his mate before Finley’s devotion is gone?

Finley Cooper is tired of waiting for his destined mate to be ready to claim him. In deference to human laws, he’s already agreed to wait until he’s eighteen. But now his birthday has come and gone—and his mate has a new set of excuses. Finley doesn’t understand it any more than his wolf does, and he’s beginning to wonder if fate made a mistake.

Tanner Pearce wants nothing more than to claim his mate, but he worries that Finley is too young. Tanner will never forget what happened when his best friend mated at Finley’s age, only to have that mate end up feeling trapped and breaking their bond. While rare, it can happen, and the fallout Tanner witnessed as his best friend tried to deal with the break has haunted him for years.
When Finley finally has enough, he threatens to find someone who will claim him if Tanner doesn’t, and Tanner realizes he needs to come to terms with his fears or risk losing his mate forever.


Excerpt from Devotion, Forbes Mates book 1

“Phone’s dead.” Tanner sighed.


“That sums it up pretty well.” He glanced up at the moon, but couldn’t really gauge the time well from it. “Unless we want to walk all the way home in wolf form, we need a phone.” He looked down the hill at the small collection of buildings at its base, then up the road to the larger cluster that made up the town. “I guess we’ll have to go up to one of the buildings.”

Finley made a face. “How do we explain being naked?”

That thought made his wolf want to bite something. Hard. There was no way in hell Tanner was letting his mate walk into someone’s house naked. “I’ll go. I’ll tell them I lost my clothes and raft in the river or something.”

He was nearly knocked off his feet by the blast of jealousy he got from Finley through their bond.

“You’re not going into someone’s house.”

Tanner blinked at him. “Fin?”

“No.” He crossed his arms, face set.

Uh-oh. “Uh… someone’s got to. And you sure as hell aren’t.”

Finley raised his eyebrow. “So, you’re allowed to, but I’m not.”

“Of course.” Something in the back of Tanner’s mind tingled, telling him he shouldn’t pursue this, but he ignored it.

“I’m supposed to be okay with you going into a strangers house, naked, while I sit out here and wait like a good little mate—is that it?”

The tone should have warned him. The mild words should have clued him in. Tanner, however, didn’t pay attention to either. Neither did he pay attention to the distinct lack of emotion coming across their bond. If Tanner had been thinking, that would have scared the shit out of him way more than if he was blasted with fury. “Yes. Well, you’re not little,” he remembered to say.

“No, that’s true, I’m not,” Finley agreed.

It finally dawned on Tanner that he was about to get himself in really hot water. The problem was, he had no idea what to do to stop it. “But—” He cut himself off at the look on Finley’s face. He stared at his mate, trying to figure out what to say. He really was not going to let Finley go in somewhere naked. He licked his lips and glanced around, as if he could divine some wisdom from the surrounding trees.

Instead, he found salvation on the road a short distance away.

“A pay phone!” he blurted.

Finley blinked at him, then looked over his shoulder and down at the road. “You are so lucky,” he muttered, throwing a glare back at Tanner.

Tanner was too busy being relieved. “So, I’ll go—”

“The fuck you will,” Finley said, succinctly.


We’ll go.”

“Oh hell no. You stay—”

“I. Will. Not. Stay. Put. Like. Some. Child.” Finley reiterated each word with a poke to Tanner’s chest. “And you, my dear mate, are going to take your Neanderthal bullshit and shove it up your ass.”

Tanner realized he’d dug himself in deep. He thought the best plan of attack at this point might just be to… shut up. He tried not to wince over the pure fury now pouring through their bond. At least Finley wasn’t silent, but in truth, he was not entirely sure if knowing about the fury was better, after all. He didn’t think he succeeded. “So, uh, how do you think we should proceed?”

When the fury abated somewhat, he patted himself on the back.

“It’s simple. We both go. The phone is in a dark enough part of the parking lot. I’ll call. You watch for anyone to approach.”

“B—” Tanner stopped and gulped at the look Finley sent him. “Uh, sounds good. We’ll, err, shift after the call.”

Finley smiled, but Tanner knew there was no happiness in it. “That will work until they get here.”

Tanner simply nodded, deciding discretion was the better part of valor. And now that he could have Finley in his bed, he needed to figure out how to not jeopardize that. He thought he might have a lot to learn.

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To go along with the Celebration, Devotion (book one) is 99¢ for the duration of the tour! This will be a great way to get started on the series!

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Rainbow Snippets

I’ve now worked 7 days a week for 5 weeks. Technically I have more work to be doing but I’m escaping today. So I’m posting this and running.

Continuing with These Haunted Hills picking up from last week.

Brendan sighed and took a drink. He forced thoughts of Josh out of his mind and turned back to his novel’s beginning. It wasn’t going to write itself but at this point, he wished it would so he could go back to his lusty daydreams, test the boundaries of his guilty feelings.

The phone rang dragging him away from his writing. He hesitated realizing it was Josh. He didn’t think Josh could possibly know how torn up he’d been after the lights went out last night but maybe at breakfast he sensed something weird. If he didn’t respond it might seem even stranger. “Hey, Josh. What’s up?”

If you’d like to play along, Rainbow Snippets is a Facebook community where we post up 6 sentences of one of our LGBT stories every Saturday. It’s been fun and you can find it here. Be sure to check out all the offers! It’s been a great supportive group!

Rainbow Snippets

I’ve been buried in work and owe everyone comments. Sorry.

Here’s more of These Haunted Hills I’ve skipped ahead to the next day after the ghost hunt.

Brendan knew Josh most likely wouldn’t make the first move. Their relationship was too uneven. Josh knew Brendan was still suffering and wouldn’t want to force him into a position he wasn’t ready for. Ignoring that, Josh was too obviously a fan boy and was trying to behave himself so not to be that obnoxious fan.

No, if Brendan wanted to kiss Josh – and god help him, he did – he’d have to make the first move. He peered at the clock in the corner of his laptop. Nearly one in the morning. It was far too late to make Josh drive out to the cabin even though he had no doubts Josh would come.

If you’d like to play along, Rainbow Snippets is a Facebook community where we post up 6 sentences of one of our LGBT stories every Saturday. It’s been fun and you can find it here. Be sure to check out all the offers! It’s been a great supportive group!

Rainbow Snippets

Still running around like a headless chicken but now with blood clots in my arm (they’re resolving and are superficial so they wouldn’t be a huge problem anyhow but they hurt) from where I fell on it.

Not finding much time to write. Sigh.

Here’s more of These Haunted Hills Brendan is learning about his aura. It’s a bit more than 6 sentences but I wanted to get past this part.

“It’s black,” Kasumi replied, startling him. Brendan might not know much about auras but that couldn’t be good. “Fading to grey.”

“With just a hint of gold at the edges, as if that’s what it wants to be but can’t quite get there.”

“Is that bad? I don’t know much about this.” For something he knew little about and wasn’t even sure he believed in suddenly Brendan felt a frisson of nerves blooming.

“It’s not good. It usually means you’re unwell,” Kasumi said.

“We know who you are, what you’ve been through. It’s not unsurprising your aura has gotten into a dark place. The grey suggests it’s beginning to recover,” Hoshi added.

Brendan contemplated that for a moment. A dark place didn’t begin to cover it. Still recovery which had seemed so impossible just a few weeks before this seemed far more likely with Josh and this strange group of people he’d hooked up with. “I like the idea of recovery. It’s been a long process for me.”

If you’d like to play along, Rainbow Snippets is a Facebook community where we post up 6 sentences of one of our LGBT stories every Saturday. It’s been fun and you can find it here. Be sure to check out all the offers! It’s been a great supportive group!

Rainbow Snippets

Writing this up on the fly as I fail miserably at keeping on point with my lectures.

Still in These Haunted Hills They’re out of the attic and Brendan has been left with Hoshi and her twin Kasumi (who is talking first)

“I don’t mean to be strange but has anyone told you have a very odd aura. I wasn’t going to say anything but it’s hard for me to take my eyes off it.”

Brendan stared for a moment, trying to figure out what to say to that.

“I agree,” Hoshi said.

“I can honestly say no one has ever mentioned the word aura to me.” Brendan knew what they were of course even before he had started researching this for the novel. It was one thing more he wasn’t sure he believed in but he was willing to entertain the notion for the sisters. He didn’t want to insult them. “What’s wrong with it?”

If you’d like to play along, Rainbow Snippets is a Facebook community where we post up 6 sentences of one of our LGBT stories every Saturday. It’s been fun and you can find it here. Be sure to check out all the offers! It’s been a great supportive group!

Rainbow Snippets

I survived the first week of classes. Judging by my interactions this week, this is going to be a good semester with good students so huzzah. As for me I’m far more banged up than I first thought so I’m one big bruise. HOW I hurt myself this bad just falling over my own two feet, I have no idea.

Continuing with These Haunted Hills, the team is in the attic where the ghost has manipulated their flashlights.

Brendan heard nothing but hoped there would be something on the digital recording. Nothing else happened for several minutes as they prowled the large attic. A sudden loud knock made Brendan jump so hard, he nearly fell over a box.

Josh, far more calmly than Brendan could have managed, called down to Hunter. “Did you guys knock on something?”

“No,” came Hunter’s response.

“Do that again if you can,” Cassia said and another two knocks sounded.

Brendan had to restrain himself from showing them what the fight or flight response was all about. It couldn’t be more than twenty steps to the staircase. He didn’t run for it. That would be too embarrassing but self-preservation thoughts did echo in his brain.

Finally Hoshi let out a soft sigh. “He’s really tapping my energy.”

“Okay we better go down then. Brendan want to take point?” Josh asked.


If you’d like to play along, Rainbow Snippets is a Facebook community where we post up 6 sentences of one of our LGBT stories every Saturday. It’s been fun and you can find it here. Be sure to check out all the offers! It’s been a great supportive group!

New Release – Unraveling by Rick R. Reed

Author: Rick R. Reed

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: January 13, 2020

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 68300

Genre: Contemporary, LGBT, deep closet, coming out, men with children, virgin, #ownvoices, humorous, EMT

Add to Goodreads


Randy Kay has the perfect life with his beautiful wife and adorable son. But Randy’s living a lie, untrue to himself and everyone who knows him. He’s gay.

Marriage and fatherhood, which he thought could change him, have failed. He doubts if anyone can love him for who he really is—especially himself.

With his wife’s blessing, he sets out to explore the gay world he’s hidden from all his life.

John Walsh, a paramedic with the Chicago Fire Department, is comfortable in his own skin as a gay man, yet he can never find someone who shares his desire to create a real relationship, a true family.

When Randy and John first spy each other in Chicago’s Boystown, all kinds of alarms go off—some of joy, others of deep-seated fear.

Randy and John must surmount multiple hurdles on the journey to a lasting, meaningful love. Will they succeed or will their chance at love go up in flames, destroyed by missed connections and a lack of self-acceptance?


Rick R. Reed © 2020
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One

I have my death all planned out.

Unlike the thirty-two years that have gone before, I want my passing to be peaceful and free of the discord and pain I’ve lived with for as long as I can remember. I want it to be easy. Effortless. Guilt-free.

Whether it’s any of those things remains to be seen.

I’ve rented this hotel room at a small boutique hotel off Michigan Avenue. The Crewe House has been standing on this same ground on Oak Street for at least a hundred years. The rooms are small, fussy, and charming, with flocked wallpaper, four-poster beds, and claw-foot tubs and pedestal sinks in their black-and-white bathrooms. It’s charming, and I deserve something nice to gaze at before I close my eyes for good.

I have some sandalwood-scented candles lit, and the fragrance is warm, enveloping. Their soft flicker is the only illumination. Outside, the winter sky darkens early. Dusk’s cobalt blue makes silhouettes of the water towers, train tracks, and buildings to the west of the hotel. Near the horizon the sky is a shade of lavender that mesmerizes me, makes me think of changing my mind. If a sky like this can exist, with its electric bands of color, maybe the world isn’t such a horrible place.

Maybe I can go on.


What else have I done to ease my passage into whatever comes next? I have a bottle of Veuve Cliquot, my favorite champagne, uncorked and resting in a silver ice bucket, filled with melting ice. A flute stands next to it, waiting.

I’ll wash the sleeping pills down with the bubbly.

Before getting into bed, I’ll turn on the cassette I have in my boombox, Abbey Road. I have it queued up to “Golden Slumbers.”

I’ve been carrying this weight for such a long time.

I long for smiles.

At last, I’ll undress and stretch out on the four-poster. I’ll pull the eiderdown duvet loosely over me and close my eyes.

The plan is I will slowly slip under, my brain becoming a soft velvety fog, and I’ll simply fall into the arms of a comforting—and obliterating—slumber.

I will not dream.

It won’t take long.

And I’ll leave a beautiful corpse.

That’s the plan, anyway. Some of my research into this method of offing myself runs counter to this gentle fantasy, but I don’t want to consider the downside of overdosing on strong barbiturates.

I want to go to sleep.

I want to forget the impossibility of being able to become the man I know I should be.



I blink back tears as I sit on the bed, staring out at the deepening twilight. They don’t deserve this: what you’re going to leave them with. I know the voice inside, the one that’s always made me do the right thing, at the expense of my very being, is right. And even though they don’t deserve it, you know they will hurt, of course they will, but in the end, they’ll be better off.

Who wants a husband and father who can’t seem to make himself straight, despite trying therapy, the Catholic Church, the Buddhist faith, self-help groups, and self-help books. A group of pathetic married men meeting once a month and thinking they can change. Nothing works. If I could change, I would.

And since I can’t change, I’m left with three options:

Accept myself as I am. How can I do that? I’d be a failure as a husband, a father, a son, a brother. I’d go on wearing this suffocating mask. I’d continue to live a life that’s essentially a lie.

Everyone who loves me doesn’t even know me.

They love a façade, a projection, a mirage made of wishes, impossible hopes, and self-hatred.

No, acceptance is not an option. It never was.

Second, I could resist. I could knuckle down and brace myself against the attractions I feel, the dreams that pop up in my sleep despite my desperately not wanting them there. I could hold myself back from falling prey to the temptations I feel on the streets, the subway, the locker rooms—everywhere I encounter a beautiful man.

The reason I find myself here is because I can’t resist. Not anymore.

And the third option is simply the one I have to choose—remove myself from the pain. Remove myself from existing as this broken thing that God nor man can fix.

Yes, Violet and Henry both will find a way to move on, and they’ll be happier, more anchored in life without me.

Who needs a gay dad? Or a husband who, deep down, doesn’t want what his wife has to offer? Or worse, a dad who contracts the death sentence of AIDS?

Enough of the grim thoughts. They were not part of my plan. Tonight, I go out peacefully. I’ll shut my eyes and remember things like my joy six years ago when Henry was born and seeing him take his first breath. I shouted, “We got a boy!” and fell into the deepest, most effortless love I’ve ever felt. I’ll remember proposing to Violet when we were both college sophomores and the thrill when she accepted the cheap diamond-chips ring I gave her. Things will be okay now, I remember thinking. I can change.

I really believed that. And I know I love Violet as best I can.

It’s sad when your best simply isn’t good enough.

I reach over for the bottle of sleeping pills on the nightstand. There are thirty of them, and I intend to take them all, two or three at a time. If it takes the whole bottle of champagne to get them down, well, things could be worse. No?

I tip the bottle and look at the tablets against the dark wood, so innocent, yet so lethal.

I’m just reaching for one when there’s a sudden knock on the door. Loud. Forceful. Urgent.

“Randy? Randy? Open up, please.”

The door knob turns as Violet’s voice penetrates the heavy wood of the door, making her sound muffled.

I close my eyes. I could ignore her, hope she goes away.

How did she find out where I was anyway?

She wasn’t supposed to know until she got the letter, the one neatly folded and an arm’s length away on the nightstand.

Pounding. “Please!” Violet calls.

I gather the pills, shoving them back in the bottle, then hide the container in a nightstand drawer.

How will I explain?

I get up, cross the room, and open the door.


NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble

Meet the Author

Real Men. True Love.

Rick R. Reed draws inspiration from the lives of gay men to craft stories that quicken the heartbeat, engage emotions, and keep the pages turning. Although he dabbles in horror, dark suspense, and comedy, his attention always returns to the power of love. He’s the award-winning and bestselling author of more than fifty works of published fiction and is forever at work on yet another book. Lambda Literary has called him: “A writer that doesn’t disappoint…” Rick lives in Palm Springs, CA with his beloved husband and their fierce Chihuahua/Shiba Inu mix.

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