QSF is honored to have the cover reveal for Meghan Maslow’s new MM fantasy book “Be Fairy Game,” the sequel to “By Fairy Means or Foul”:
When a simple ‘find & fetch’ case throws private investigator Twig Starfig and newly-minted wizard, Quinn Broomsparkle, into the middle of an EBI murder investigation, it’s just another day in the Elder Realm.
If murder were Twig’s only problem, he’d be the luckiest half-dragon in the land. Murder he can handle. Fulfilling his promise to his scheming, power-hungry father to run for a seat on Lighthelm’s city council? Meh, he’d rather face a demon with a toothache.
On top of their case going sideways, and Twig running for a council seat he really doesn’t want, Twig and Quinn are forced to face some unpleasant realities about their budding romance, while still learning how to handle the wizard-familiar bond they now share. Throw in a red fury with abysmal taste in boyfriends, a ghost pirate-parrot who drinks too much, a murderer who will stop at nothing to get what they want, a host of new friends and enemies, and you’ve got a situation where no one is safe and everyone is Fairy Game.
*This book is part of a series but can be read as a standalone.
Meghan is giving away an eBook copy of the first book in the series – “By Fairy Means or Foul,” with this post. Comment below for a chance to win.
“It’s a traaap.” Quinn snagged my arm in a steely grip and pulled me back as a pillar of rock crashed down where I stepped.
We dragons—or half-dragons, half-fairies at any rate—do not roll our eyes. Too undignified. Even when the occasion called for it.
“Stop rolling your eyes at me, Twig, I’m serious,” Quinn hissed, tightening his grip. “You could have been a pancake.”
Okay, sometimes the eye rolls slipped out. I shook Quinn’s grip off.
“I saw it coming a mile away.” Sort of. Maybe a bit of bravado on my part.
“And yet you still planned to step in it.” Quinn shook his head causing his golden-blond hair to fall over his forehead, giving him a tousled, just-out-of-bed look that made me wild. “I’d like to keep my familiar around a little longer if you don’t mind. It would be such a bother to find another dragon.”
I could see the edges of his lips turn up, even as he tried to give me a stern expression. My Quinn was a softie.
“Stay here,” I said, stepping over the rubble from the tight passageway into the central room.
“It will be fine,” I threw over my shoulder. Right. What could go wrong in a three-thousand-year-old pyramid? Other than the handful of mummies, some nasty vampire slugs, several dozen zombified orcs, twelve . . . er, no, thirteen hidden traps, and the hellafuck of harpies we faced down, I mean.
A typical case in the Elder Realm then.
Since I didn’t relish walking into the fourteenth hidden trap, I paused to look around the room. Waited for Quinn to hand me his torch. I didn’t need it, but I knew my wizard wouldn’t wait in the corridor for long. I wanted to make sure that neither of us stepped into any more traps. In my dragon form, plates of thick midnight blue and black scales prevented almost anything from piercing my hide. In my current humanlike form, I needed to be a little more careful.
I’d heard of the Pyramid of Duume. Really hadn’t believed the stories. Until my client, an imp named Jippaa Icegem, tasked Starfig Investigations with finding the War Hammer of Scrodbun the Derelict.
Don’t even get me started with the stupid names. We’d be here all day.
My eyes watered from the thick layer of dust and my skin itched from the lack of moisture in the stale air. The sooner we finished, the sooner we could get back to fresh air and sunlight. With that goal in mind, I scanned the cavernous room—must be the top of the pyramid—and naturally a large dais held an enormous golden chest. Seriously, people lacked creativity. I stepped with care, crouched down to get a better look at the stone floor, then checked for tripwires and other nasty surprises. I circled the dais, coming back around to where I started.
Except, I could sense the chest wasn’t real gold. Not that most creatures would know that simply by looking. But I did. Perks of dragon heritage and one of the reasons Starfig Investigations was so successful. We always found the precious artifact.
Weird to put a precious item in something this ordinary though. I walked the room again, even feeling the walls. No other place in the room where the hammer could be stored. This had to be it. We’d already battled our way up nine flights of stairs after searching each floor. I was soooo done.
“It seems okay,” I called to Quinn. “Just in case, why don’t you wait there?” My wizard wasn’t the best at taking suggestions, much less orders. I wasn’t surprised when he shuffled up beside me, his face tipped toward the peaked ceiling.
“The ceiling’s going to fall on us.”
Okay, this time I admit I rolled my eyes. I straightened to my full seven feet plus and looked down my nose at him. Quinn didn’t even flinch.
“The ceiling’s notgoing to fall on us.” I scoffed. “The pyramid’s foundation would have to crumble around us, and since Ipried the blocks loose so we could enter, I can attest to their sturdiness.”
Did I sound cranky? Yeah, well, I was tired and hungry, and I wanted to retrieve the damn war hammer and go home. It had been three days since Quinn and I enjoyed any down time together, and my dragon was getting edgy. And horny.
“I’m just telling you that allpyramids collapse on the adventurers who dare to take its treasures. Look at the Cirque Delight, the Pizzanity Pyramid, and, of course, the Spire of Silver Fen. All collapsed.” Quinn crossed his arms over his chest, nodded like he made his point.
“Cliché,” I said. “Not gonna happen here.”
“Oh, so what do you think willhappen?”
“If I had to guess, another trap or perhaps a guardian.”
“A guardian?” Quinn scoffed. “Now who’s being cliché?” The look he gave me could melt glass. It made my dick perk up and take notice. Quinn was obviously as sexually frustrated as I was, and that said something. Our gazes battled and I could swear the room warmed several degrees.
Or that could be the fire that arced from Quinn’s hand to light up a small furry ball like a torch. It snarled once, then turned into ash.
“What in hydra’s hell fire was that?” It looked like a hairy dust bunny.
“I don’t know, but it was rolling toward us fast.”
“You realize it was tiny, right?”
“So is your dad. The last time I checked, you still break out in a cold sweat every time he shows up at our place.”
He had a point.
“Besides, it startled me.”
“Remind me never to surprise you.”
“Ha, ha.” Quinn shoved my shoulder. “I don’t know what it was going to do, but I could tell it wasn’t good. I could feel the malice rolling off it.”
“Maybe that was the only one?”
Now Quinn picked up the eye rolling. “Sure.”
“We have to catch a break sometime, right?”
“Uh huh.” He didn’t seem convinced. We both peered around the chamber one more time before approaching the chest. Quinn circled the chest as graceful as a sylph, his succulent bottom lip pulled between his teeth, his long, lean form filling out his clothes nicely. Too nicely.
I swallowed and looked away. Not now,libido. We had a war hammer to fetch.
“See anything?” My voice sounded breathless to my own ears.
Quinn didn’t answer. I glanced back in his direction. His eyes glowed with heat and want. He was incredibly responsive to my moods, my own desire echoing back through his gaze.
“Quinn?” I squeaked out in a less than dragonly voice.
“Mmmhmm?” His eyes continued his perusal of my body and it felt like being licked by liquid fire.
“Find any . . . traps? Other . . . objects we need to worry about?”
He stared at my crotch. “I’ve found an object, but I’m definitely not worried about it.”
Did I really just say that? Burn me! What was I thinking? A hungry growl rose in my throat and we crashed together, sealing our lips in a scorching kiss. The war hammer could wait.
Would it be tacky to use the huge chest as a makeshift bed?
Once Quinn vaulted into my arms, his thighs gripping my waist and our groins pressed together, the rest was a moot point. My wizard wanted me and I sure as hellafuck wanted him. Now.
Quinn broke our kiss and I growled.
I smashed our hungry mouths together again, my tongue sliding past his lips, reaching for the taste that was uniquely Quinn. His hand tugged at my hair and I practically purred. I loved when he got rough with me. Another hard yank, separated our mouths again.
“Oww,” I grunted.
I dove back in. He was so amazing. Heat. Light. Everything.
A fist to my shoulder caused me to pull back.
“I’ve been trying to tell you. Look!”
Meghan Maslow is truly a rare breed. No, not a unicorn (although that would be sooo cool). She’s a. . . gasp!. . . extroverted writer. It may seem counterintuitive that as someone who is energized by people, she spends most of her time alone. Yet, that’s the case. And she doesn’t mind.
If Meghan gets writers block or starts to go a little stir crazy, she heads to a coffee shop, a restaurant, a friend’s place—anywhere to fill up her need for human contact. It also helps that she spends a lot of time with the voices in her head. Some of them are really quite opinionated.
She loves writing gay romance because she’s a sap for a happy ending, and she believes everyone—regardless of orientation—should be able to find books that have them.
Meghan believes life is for living, kindness is contagious, and a good book makes the world a better place. She loves travel, reading, world music, Moscow Mules, awkward dancing, dreadlocks, her family, and um. . . writing.