Naughty Is As Naughty Does

Before the Nine Naughty Novelists (which I still affectionately think of as N cubed--I even got a tattoo) came along I didn't really care for the word naughty. I thought it was a little silly. In fact the only way they got me on board with the name was through the addition of the word Nine. I couldn't resist the alliteration. Also, in my head I kept hearing Sesame Street's Count intoning, "Nine. Nine Naughty Novelists. Heh, heh, heh," and I was a goner. 

Now, even though 9NN is no more, I'm still primed to react positively to the word naughty. In fact, I'm primed to rush the gate without thinking, which is why, for the NEXT THREE CHRISTMASES I'll be writing Naughty Christmas stories. Assuming the world survives that long. Here's a look ahead...

First up, releasing this November is the first Let's Get Naughty anthology--with one of the most gorgeous covers I've ever seen. 

Pre-Order it here: 

https://books2read.com/letsgetnaughty

Seriously, how could I  resist a cover like that? Well, obviously I couldn't. My story for this anthology is Christmasing With You. This is an expanded version of a short Ugly Christmas Sweater story I wrote in conjunction with the Nine Naughty Novelists several years ago. It features Mike and Claire from Let Me Count the Ways (LA Love Lessons, book 3). Here's the blurb:

The sweater was just the beginning…

​Mike's been a very good boy this year and Santa Claire has the perfect present picked out for him—one that's both naughty and nice!

​One more disaster could be the end…​

Mike and Claire were hoping their first Christmas together would be unforgettable. But when their sexy, adult-film-themed weekend abruptly veers into low-budget, chiller-diller territory, they’re left to worry that this Christmas will turn out to be memorable in all the worst ways.

An isolated cabin, a winter storm, a hungry cougar—what could possibly go wrong? In a word: everything.​

It's a cute story. There's role playing, a little BDSM-lite, adult Christmas toys, and lots of obscene Christmas decorations. Who even knew that was a thing?  Plus, of course, the obligatory Ugly Christmas Sweater. 

Then, in October 2023, Let's Get Naughty 2 releases! I signed up for that one when I got wait-listed for LGN 1. Then, as luck would have it, I got into both! That has a gorgeous cover, as well, but apparently, we're not allowed to share that one yet. I have two stories in mind for that one. I guess we'll see which one is speaking louder to me when I get around to writing it next year. But, if you'd like a hint, one is another LA Love Lessons spin-off featuring April and Zach and a whole cast of wacky characters and is set in the woods near Ojai. Working title: Last Room at the Inn. The other is an Oberon Christmas story called, Christmas Every Day and features Lucy and Dan. Lucy gets caught in a holiday time-warp in that one, a la Groundhog Day. 

THEN, on December 8, 2024, I'll be releasing Spicy Nick in conjunction with The Naughty List series. I'm probably not supposed to share that cover yet either, so shhhhhh! Don't tell anyone. 

Cute, right? This time it was the TITLE that got to me. I'm old enough to remember a commercial about "speecy, spicy meatballs." And, well, Nick and meatballs go together, so...

I don't really have a plan for this one yet, but I know it takes place immediately after Scout's trip to LA as detailed in, I'll Be Home For Christmas. I figured that she needed a treat after that upsetting experience. 

The next few years are going to be VERY Christmas-centric. I also have a couple of vampire Christmas stories that I'll be releasing, a steampunk collection, and Christmas Angel which will first debut in May 16, 2023 as part of the Redemption Fallen Angel Anthology. Which also has an awesome cover: 

Also available for pre-order now:

https://books2read.com/b/br1JkE

Here's the current blurb. It's a work in progress and names are subject to change:

You’ve heard this story a hundred times before. Well. A dozen times, anyway. It’s a Christmas classic: Cranky guy dies without learning the true meaning of the season, gets turned into an angel and is given the job of saving someone else from suffering the same unhappy fate. 

 

Usually it’s billed as a romance, or at least as feel-good, family fun. Which is ridiculous. Even Dickens, the man who invented cheesy Christmas stories, knew better than that. His Marley was miserable, as who wouldn’t be in his situation?  Which also happens to be my situation. 

 

Hi. My name is Jacob. I’m an angel. And this is my story...

​

New Release! Funnel of Love

 

FUNNEL OF LOVE IS LIVE!

Buy it HERE

 I had so much fun writing this book! It has jokes and funny stories and funny music--see the playlist below. Numbers 3, 4 and 5 are my favorites.  There are drunken conversations, and drunken sex, and family being...well, family. There are two families, actually. So double the drama! There's a wedding. There's a cat. There's a secret pregnancy. And there's cake. 

So. Much. Cake.

Right now, it's on sale for only .99 cents which is less than you'd pay for even ONE cupcake. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I  enjoyed writing it. 

Funnel of Love

Games We Play, Book Five
by PG Forte
Paranormal/Erotic Romance
55K

Special pre-order price: only .99

Releases this Thursday, July 21, 2022 

Buy Link: https://books2read.com/u/mvoerj

Atlas Beach be big enough for both of them?

 

Baker Rocco DiLuca is not a happy camper. He’s just found out that his baby sister is getting married—to his former best friend—and he's not invited. But that's not even the worst part. They’ve hired someone else to make their wedding cake!

 

He knew he and Kristy hadn't exactly been speaking to each other, but he hadn't realized they Weren’t Speaking to each other! Now he has to figure out how to repair their family feud, or forever keep his distance. Unfortunately, his best hope for success is the woman he considers his competition.

 

Stephanie Sands thinks the Chamber of Commerce’s mentorship program is a great idea! She’s not ashamed to admit that her boutique bakery, Sugar Kink, isn't quite making it. Yet. But the mentor she's been assigned, Rocky D, isn’t just traditional, he’s positively medieval. It’s no wonder his sister wants nothing to do with him!

 

Can they put aside their differences (and the insane attraction they feel) to help each other out? Or will their dreams fall as flat as a failed souffle?

Wedding Bells Redux

 

Today’s my anniversary! So, it’s probably not surprising that I’m in a wedding-y mood. Which means YOU get to hear all about my most wedding-y book ever. There’s even a link to an excerpt, although it’s from an earlier version of the book, before the wedding venue was changed to Oberon. 

You can find the excerpt here:  https://rhymeswithforeplay.blogspot.com/2017/07/going-to-chapel-excerpt.html 

AND if you're interested in learning the reason for the change and how everyone ended up in Oberon, you can read about that here: https://oberoncalifornia.blogspot.com/2019/06/wedding-bells-in-oberon.html

                                  Going To The Chapel

An Oberon/LA Love Lessons Crossover Book 1.0

In Waiting For The Big One, Gabby and Derek went from being friends to being lovers. Now, they're waiting for their "big day". But will it be the wedding of their dreams? Or a bride's worst nightmare? 

A quick trip to Gabby's hometown turns into the wedding from hell when Gabby and Derek are plagued by hailstorms, lost reservations, voracious goats, angry bees and enough family drama to fill a barn. 

Guess it's true what they say, "The course of true love never did run smooth." But can the happy couple hold it all together, or will their Big Day turn into a Big Mess? ​ 

***A slightly different version of this book was previously released as part of the Sapphire Falls Kindle World program.*** 

 Available now, only at Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07SF7MD54

Last Week! .99 cent Romance!

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This promo is going away very soon. So, check it out now, while there's still time!

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Happy Summer Solstice!

 Happy Summer Solstice!  Although goth the first and the final book in the Oberon series takes place at the time of the summer solstice, today I decided to celebrate with an excerpt from OAK my Celtic Fantasy Romance, MMF retelling of the Oak King/Holly King legend. Enjoy!    

OAK*
Celtic Legends
PG Forte
Fantasy Romance
MMF
$2.99

Buy it HERE

BLURB:

When legends spring to life, can they heal these broken hearts?

Twice each year, Aine Murphy ventures into the woods to hold ceremonies to honor the Oak King and the Holly King, never dreaming these Lords of the Forest could be anything more than myth. When the legends spring to life in front of her, how can she help but fall for the sexy demi-gods she's loved all her life? 

 From midwinter to midsummer, Fionn O'Dair rules the Greenworld as the Oak King--a role he feels is beyond his abilities, and one that dooms him to a loveless future, forever craving the one man he can never allow himself to have. How can he resist what Aine offers--the sweet devotion that soothes his aching soul, and the slim chance to live a "normal" life as her husband, if only for half a year? Holly King 

Kieran Mac Cuilenn never desired a human lover--until now. Seeing Fionn and Aine together fills him with longing for the love he threw away and awakens feelings he thought he'd buried with the last Oak King. Is there enough magic in the solstice to correct the mistakes he made years ago? Or is he doomed to be forever left out in the cold?

*Previously published as The Oak King. 

EXCERPT:

June 1894

At the time of the summer solstice

The woods were shadowed, tranquil and green as Aine Murphy made her way into the forest. This early in the day the sun had yet to burn off the morning mist, but although the day promised to be fine, an unidentifiable melancholy seemed to hang in the soft, still air. It was just a trace, but enough of one that Aine took note of it and thought it strange. Why should the forest feel so gloomy today? What grief dared mar so perfect a morning?

When she reached her destination, a secluded grove where a stately young oak and wizened holly stood a short distance from one another, she paused and glanced around, feeling the hair rise on the back of her neck. The sense of sorrow, of loss—of despair, almost—was even stronger here. She did not consider herself a fanciful woman, but there was an unusual sentience in the woods today. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear she was being watched.

She shook her head, waiting for the odd notion to dissolve. It was naught but foolishness. She was well aware that there was no one to see her. Indeed, that was another of the reasons why she’d chosen this particular place for her ceremonies; it was as far from her neighbors’ prying eyes as she could get. She brushed her concerns aside and set about getting ready for the morning’s ritual, taking comfort in the familiar routine—the same one she’d followed for several years now, ever since her husband’s death had freed her to worship as she saw fit.

She began by setting up her altar, reverently laying out the tools she would be using. Then she walked the circle, calling on the directions and raising power as she went, carefully placing eight stones around the perimeter to denote the quarter and cross-quarter days. When she’d returned to the start point, she stopped and removed her cloak. Cool air caressed her bare skin, raising goose bumps on her arms and legs and pebbling her nipples. A hush seemed to fall over the forest. The feeling of being watched grew stronger.

Her heart was beating uncomfortably fast as she entered the circle and knelt upon the soft green moss. She’d come here today to sing songs of praise; to greet the newly crowned Holly King and pay homage to the fallen Oak—a ceremony that had always brought her joy in the past—but the atmosphere this morning had unsettled her. No longer in the mood to tarry, she rushed through her opening prayers and started right in on a hymn in honor of the Oak King. She was midway through the second stanza when her ordinary day caved in upon her. A naked stranger materialized from out of the fog, nearly scaring the life out of her in the process. Aine gasped in surprise. “Gods save me.”

The stranger said nothing. He stared back at her, looking almost as surprised as she. For one shocked instant Aine was convinced she’d somehow conjured the very Spirit of the Forest. Then reason reasserted itself. This was no insubstantial sprite—his heavy muscles and gleaming flesh attested to that. However godlike he appeared, he was likely no more than a no-account rover, a drifter who’d stumbled drunk onto her property the night before and judged this sheltered grove to be a perfect place to catch a night’s sleep.

“Who-who are you?” she demanded shakily, still staring at him. “Whence did you come?”

His chestnut hair was shaggy and overlong, streaked gold as though by the sun and in desperate need of a trim. It hung in his face, very nearly obscuring his beautiful hazel eyes. Even partially veiled, those eyes were remarkable, a warm amber color overall, like honey and cinnamon swirled together, but with bright flecks of summer green shimmering in their liquid depths. His strong brown body was broad and tall. Perhaps not quite a match for the oak tree that spread its branches above their heads, but still he was an impressive sight to behold. He quite captivated her attention. Although, given that they were both skyclad at the time, their mutual surprise was not so astonishing. She, at least, had a cloak with which to cover her nakedness.

“Answer me,” she demanded as she scrabbled for her cloak and hastily wrapped it around her. She was pleased that her voice no longer shook, though her heart was still pounding at far too swift a pace. She should be running away, but she feared her legs wouldn’t carry her.

“There’s no need to fear me, lass,” the stranger said, smiling in a way she suspected was meant to be reassuring. “I mean you no harm.”

Aine’s mouth tightened. “Sure, and wouldn’t you like me to think so?”

The stranger blinked and appeared confused. “I would, indeed. Why else would I have said it?”

Aine choked back a laugh. Her hands were shaking as she began to gather her tools together, spilling everything repeatedly, her motions too jerky and uncoordinated for anything else. “Why indeed.”

“Here, now.” The stranger took a step closer. “Let me help you with that.”

“No!” Aine raised her hand in a futile effort to stop him. “Stay back. Do not come any closer.”

“As you wish.”

His easy acquiescence emboldened her. She stopped what she was doing to level a glare at him. “What I wish is that you’d see fit to answer my questions. Who are you and what are you doing here?”

FIONN DIDN’T ANSWER right away. If truth be told, he was having trouble finding his voice. It wasn’t just that Aine’s beauty stole his breath; he was also dazed and disoriented, momentarily depleted of power. Who knew it took so much effort to work magic? Well, Kieran, probably. But, then again, Fionn suspected there were many things the Holly King knew but had not bothered to share with him.

Bitterness rose inside him at the thought, at the memory of Kieran’s cold disregard. Although most of the hurt Fionn once had felt had long since turned to anger, the old resentment smoldered still. If there was one thing he would not be wasting time on—neither now  nor ever again, if he were lucky—it was Kieran.

Now that he had finally broken free, Fionn intended to live as a human, at least until the winter solstice. Perhaps he wouldn’t go back at all. Maybe, if he were truly lucky, he would discover that the winds could not find him on this side of the veil. Or maybe, in his absence, his Lord and Lady would choose someone else to take his place, someone better suited to the task than he.

LAST CHANCE!! 

This promo is going away soon.

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LGBT History Month at KISS

 

I was so excited to find out that Kiss was featuring Ashes of the Day on their LGBT History Month Seasonal Shelf from today until the 9th. You can check it out HERE

BLURB:  Everybody has secrets...but some have the ability to destroy them all. 

Damian and Conrad's road has been a rocky one, and Damian is struggling to trust in the relationship he and Conrad now share -- what seems like a perfect love. After all, it's fallen apart before, why couldn't it do the same again? 

Secrecy and conflict within the nest continues to grow, and Georgia's hold on the deadly secret she carries begins to erode. What she hides threatens their entire species...

EXCERPT:

December 31, 1999

New Year’s Eve

Damian leaned against the railing of the second-floor balcony and cast a jaded eye over the crowded ballroom below. The decorations were a tad overdone, in his opinion. Gaudy gold-and-silver Mylar festooned every surface—the bar, the tables, even the walls. The glare all but blinded him. Overhead, a billowing mass of champagne- and platinum-colored balloons were tethered to the ceiling, awaiting the stroke of midnight, when they’d be released. The last day of the year had dwindled down to the final hour. Y2K was on the verge, that ticking time bomb that would shortly send the world hurtling back toward the dark ages…or not.

Either way, Damian could not find it in himself to be concerned, or even very interested, in the fate of the world. The new millennium, as most people counted it, was about to begin. For the time being, it was still 1999 and the throng of people gathered on the hotel dance floor was certainly partying like it.

Exhibiting far more enthusiasm than skill, the crowd sang loudly along with Prince’s signature anthem as they bounced and gyrated to the music. The once-familiar song struck a bittersweet chord in Damian’s heart and he closed his eyes as nostalgia overwhelmed him. How many times had he danced to this same record back when it was first popular? He didn’t feel even remotely like dancing tonight. Hadn’t felt like dancing in years.

Memories rose in his mind of a supple young body pressed tight against his own, warming his back, more often than not. He remembered arms holding him possessively close, sweet lips dropping kisses all along his cheek, his neck, his shoulder…

He remembered the feel of strong hands splayed on his hips, guiding him as they moved together, thrusting, grinding, taunting each other with graphic reminders of everything they’d be doing together later in bed.

Oh, how he longed to feel that way again, careless and wanton, desired, loved. Oh, how he longed to hear that sexy voice whispering in his ear.To feel those muscular arms encircling his waist or his neck, or wrapped around his shoulders.To see that smile, hear that laugh, just one more time.

Knowing those wishes would never come true, that those days of joy and innocence were lost to him, gone for good, never to return, did nothing to improve his mood.

Folding his arms across his chest, he surreptitiously touched the small gold rings with which his nipples had been pierced. The rings had been Paul’s originally, a final gift of sorts. Since he was Vampire, the pain had been mild and fleeting. The tiny wounds had healed almost instantly and had done nothing to ease the heavy sense of loss that weighed against his chest. Perhaps if the physical pain had been more intense, more prolonged, more on par with his emotional pain, it might have helped distract him from his inner turmoil. As it was, all he’d had to make do with was Conrad’s anger. While that was certainly painful to endure, it didn’t so much detract from Damian’s distress as add to it.

 

“Slaves were once made to wear such things,” Conrad had complained when he learned what Damian had done. “Is that your wish?To be thought of as a slave now? Is that how you want people to think of you? Is it how you want them to think of me?”

“¡Ay, puñeta!” Damian had snarled, baring his teeth and shocking himself with his own boldness. “Déjate de leches. Tell me, who are these people about whom you’re so concerned? And what has any of it to do with you? Are the rings yours? Did you force me to wear them? No! So why should you have a say in this at all? Why do you even care what I do?” It was not his usual habit to disregard his sire’s wishes so recklessly or to respond so rudely to his complaints. No one spoke to Conrad in that fashion. No one without a pronounced deathwish, that is.

Is that what it’s come to?Damian wondered. Am I so weary of drawing breath I’m looking to end it all?Perhaps he was.

“Silence,” Conrad commanded. “You go too far. Have you forgotten who I am that you dare speak to me in this manner? Are you trying to make me lose my temper?”

Damian looked away. For all that a shudder ran through him when he contemplated the likely result of Conrad’s losing his temper, he still couldn’t honestly say no, that wasn’t exactly what he was trying to do. He needed something, didn’t he? Needed something drastic and extreme, something strong enough to pull him out of the abyss of grief he’d fallen into. Anything was preferable to what he was feeling now.

“Everything you do concerns me,” Conrad said after a moment, his voice lower but no less intense. “Don’t ever think otherwise. You’re a part of me, Damian, a part of my family, blood of my blood. Nothing will ever change that. And I will always have a say. Always.”

And that, Damian thought, was precisely where the problem lay. It was obvious that what Conrad objected to most of all was the idea of someone else’s “mark” being made visible on Damian’s body—a body Conrad still thought of as belonging to him, however little he wanted anything to do with it anymore.

Yes, the small bits of metal would last for centuries—another of Conrad’s complaints, and far more valid than the rest, in that at least it was true. They were as permanent a reminder of Paul as any Damian could think of, something he would carry with him wherever he went, something he could keep symbolically close to his heart for potentially the rest of his life. But what right had Conrad to rage about that either? None at all. Not when he himself had two living, breathing vampire children to remind him of his last lover. As a bequest, they had no equal. As a memorial, nothing else could come close. Of that Damian had no doubts whatsoever. They were his one saving grace, the only things that made his life worth living…

 

“A penny for your thoughts,” Conrad said, appearing at Damian’s elbow with two glasses of champagne in hand.

Damian started. As his mind returned to the present, the first thing that struck him was that the same song was playing—whether again or still he didn’t know. Memories washed over him once more and his heart twisted in grief. How was it the years could flash by, while the minutes lagged? Time was cruel, fickle, wearisome. How much more could he bear before it broke him?

“What’s wrong? Is one penny not enough? Perhaps you’re holding out for more?”

“What are you talking about?” Damian snapped. “More what?”

Conrad frowned. “Why must you scowl at me in that fashion? I did not invent the phrase and I’m quite sure I used it correctly. If you think I meant to imply your thoughts were not worth very much, I assure you you’re mistaken. I merely intended to inquire what was on your mind.”

Damian sighed. “Of course. I beg your pardon. Your use of the vernacular is exemplary. But I have nothing whatsoever on my mind—not even a penny’s worth.” He waved at the dance floor. “I was merely observing the crowd.”

“Ah.” A pleased smile curved Conrad’s lips. “Getting hungry, are we? Good. I’m pleased to hear your appetite’s returning.”

“No, I’m not particularly hungry.” There was only one taste Damian was craving, and as he had virtually no chance of satisfying that craving… “It all seems somewhat pointless, I’m afraid.”

Conrad’s smile disappeared. “Here,” he said, handing Damian one of the glasses. “Take this, at least. You look as though you could use something.”

“Thank you.” Damian took the glass and looked at it with distaste. Here was something else he’d felt no inclination for in well over a decade. “But I’m not, as they say, in the mood for it.”

“Hold onto it just the same,” Conrad said when Damian attempted to give him back the glass. “You’d do well to keep up appearances.” He studied him for a moment then asked, “Damian…you would tell me if there was anything you needed, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course,” Damian replied dutifully, lying again because what was the point of anything else? The truth wouldn’t do either of them a damn bit of good. 

Find more of the series  here: 

https://read.writekiss.com/search?key_word=PG%20Forte

Or on my website: https://www.pgforte.com/children-of-night

Your Next Favorite Indie Romance Book

 

The amazing Allie Ritch has done it again! She's put together a fabulous new collection of indie ebooks--over sixty titles from  26 authors! Check the entire list out here:

https://allieritch.wordpress.com/2022/05/31/find-your-next-ebook-to-read/