Release – 19 January, 2023
The Book
Details
The Lake Prophet Mysteries
- Solstice – https://rjscott.co.uk/read-solstice
- Equinox – https://rjscott.co.uk/read-equinox
- Zenith – https://rjscott.co.uk/read-zenith
RJ Scott
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Eli Easton
Having been, at various times and under different names, a minister’s daughter, a computer programmer, a game designer, the author of paranormal mysteries, a fan fiction writer, and organic farmer, Eli has been a m/m romance author since 2013. She has published over 30 gay romances.
Eli has loved romance since her teens and she particular admires writers who can combine literary merit, genuine humor, melting hotness, and eye-dabbing sweetness into one story.
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Excerpt 1
Gabriel
I woke, startled, my heart racing, shivering with cold from where I’d shoved the covers away. Lost in panic, I rolled over to search for Tiber, my fingers grazing his sleep-mussed hair. His steady breathing should’ve been comforting, but I’d woken filled with a sense of dread.
From the familiar shadows in the room, I guessed it wasn’t much past dawn as, yet again, I’d been forced out of sleep by a nightmare, pulled deeper into memories that never made sense. The familiar, insistent nudge of a cold, wet nose at my hand was a reminder of why I wasn’t still asleep. I leaned over to look down at the side of the bed. Duke was there, whining low in his throat, his tail wagging dust bunnies along the floor as he stared up at me. I’d been gripped in a nightmare, and our yellow Lab, Duke, had pulled me out before the pain and memories became too much for me to control.
Before I hurt Tiber.
“Thanks, buddy,” I whispered, scratching behind his velvety ears.
He licked my hand before padding to the bedroom door and curling up in the bed we kept there. I lay back on my pillow, closed my eyes, torn between wanting to remember what I’d been dreaming about, and wanting to find some kind of dreamless sleep. Tiber shifted next to me, rolled my way, and I opened my eyes to get my fill of the gorgeous man who’d invited me into his life. I gently tugged him closer, and he murmured and tucked his face into my neck, the spill of his dark hair across my shoulder. His deep, rhythmic breathing almost lulled me back to sleep. Almost.
I’d never felt the kind of love I had for Tiber with anyone. He was the other half of my heart, whether we talked, we sat in silence, played with the pack, or watched movies, I was at complete peace with him, and I could hold him like this forever.
When sleep evaded me, and my bladder insisted I get up, I lost any hope of more rest, climbed out of bed, careful not to wake Tiber, and went into the bathroom. The splash of cold water on my face worked wonders, but the shower helped chase away some of the final shadows, and I almost felt ready to face the day. Wrapped in a towel, I headed back into the bedroom, but Tiber’s side of the bed was empty. I found him in the kitchen, rubbing his eyes sleepily, staring at the coffee pot.
“Morning,” he mumbled, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on my lips. “You okay?” he asked.
I hesitated before sighing. There was no point in hiding what happened in my sleep when Tiber understood nightmares.
“Either Duke or my nightmares woke me up, but I’m sure it was Duke.”
Tiber ran his fingers through Duke’s fur. “Good boy,” he murmured. “Get dressed; coffee will be waiting.”
I hugged him from behind, inhaling the scent of him, all warm and sleepy. “I could be late if you wanted,” I suggested with a leer and a nibble to his shoulder.
“I have a client call in exactly thirty minutes.” Tiber eased himself away, and I swear I pouted, because he snorted a laugh. “If the town could see you now.” He reached up and straightened my damp hair, then skimmed my cheeks before resting a finger briefly on my lower lip and smiling. “Big bad sheriff, all damp, naked, and pouty.”
I couldn’t help kissing his smile, because jeez, he was my Tiber, and he was everything.
Excerpt 2
Tiber
“You said in your application that Bruno is having anxiety issues?” I peered at the man and dog on my computer screen, a polite, non-judgmental expression on my face. Or my best attempt at one anyway.
I was getting weird vibes from this new client, and I’d only been on the Zoom call for sixty seconds.
“Anxiety. Yeah, that’s it.” The man awkwardly patted the head of the dog seated on the couch next to him. With the other hand, he slipped a treat that was in his palm. It was done sneakily, as if I wasn’t supposed to notice.
Was the guy—Jim Smith, according to his application—thinking I’d judge him for spoiling the dog? Or was he worried the dog wouldn’t stay seated on the couch if he didn’t bribe him?
The dog, Bruno, was a large boxer with the breed’s typical brown coat and white muzzle. He sat upright and stiff, his alert gaze off-camera as if looking at someone or something else. I made a note.
“Tell me about the anxiety,” I said. “What in Bruno’s behavior make you think he’s anxious?” Though he seemed pretty anxious to me right then.
Jim Smith gave me a half-smile. “Before we get into that, tell me about yourself, Tiber. I’d like to know who I’m dealing with.”
I hesitated. “You can find my bio on my website.”
“I know that. But I wanna hear it from you.” He gave me what presumably passed in his mirror as an encouraging smile. It had the legitimacy of a three-dollar bill.
I was puzzled about Jim Smith. He was not my usual caller. My pet consulting clients were often, though not exclusively, women. If they were men, they tended to be older; Jim Smith appeared to be in his late-twenties, close to my age. They included people who were worried about their pets, obsessed with their pets, and people who were at the absolute end of their rope. Some of my clients were desperate—their dog hated their new love interest or was about to be tossed by their landlord. Some simply wanted to communicate with their furry friends. But, whatever their issue, they were always people who loved their pets. If they weren’t, they wouldn’t have sought me out or willing to pay my consulting fees.
Jim Smith didn’t strike me that way. His pale skin was flushed, as if he’d been exerting himself or was angry. His face was plain, his physique too thin, his blue eyes dull, and he was dressed in a black turtleneck, black slacks, and—perhaps a personal quirk—even black gloves. But it wasn’t his sartorial choices that made my skin crawl. I got the vibe he was someone with a hair-trigger temper.
“That’s fine,” I said easily. “I have a Master’s in Animal Behavior from the University of Washington. It’s a field that combines zoology and psychology. I’ve been working with private clients for four years, and I have reviews and references on my website if you’d care to take a look.”
“I know all that,” Jim said. “I can read. I want to know about you as a person. What are your hobbies and interests? Are you married? In a relationship?” He raised his eyebrows and half-smiled again.
“Mr. Smith, you’re paying for my time. I think we should focus on Bruno.” Sweat gathered under my arms, tickling my skin, and I felt lightheaded. I hated it. I hated that it was so easy for me to get thrown off on a call. Or by any human interaction, really.
Unlike animals, humans often had hidden agendas, ulterior motives. I was shit at dealing with those.
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