QSFer D.G. Carothers has a new MM urban fantasy out: T.A.G. You’re Mine.
Attention all T.A.G. addicts! The wait is finally over! A new file is being released from the archives.
Hello all you hungry fans that have been patiently waiting. It’s your trusty communications agent Mr. No. I know it’s been ages, almost 15 years, since the last release from the archives, but the boys over at T.A.G. HQ had a lot on their hands.
There’s a new Mr. H in town, or not so new if you get my drift. And the world went topsy-turvy five years ago with the revelation that dragons and other creatures had been hiding amongst us for thousands of years. Who saw that coming? No one! Absolutely, no one!
It’s a whole new world out there, folks, and with it comes new challenges for us here at T.A.G. to overcome. But the wait is over, and now I have in my hot hands the declassified file on what happened to Agent Mx. Ru.
Mx. Ru must cool their heels in New Mexico just like Mr. H had to that one time we don’t talk about…much. Assuming the identity of a regular college student, Mx. Ru soon becomes entangled in a robbery that escalates into a murder.
Stalking, murder, Irish mafia, and Mx.Ru’s interest have ensnared a transplant from Boston, Homicide Detective Cormac O’Leary. The plot thickens, the pot is stirred, and they’re both in a race against time to stop a murderer from escaping justice. Justice being Mx. Ru’s trigger finger.
Will Mx. Ru save Cormac? Will Cormac escape from his past? Will they come together to conquer the world or will the truth break them?
I don’t know!! But I’m making the popcorn.
This book contains mature language, violence, and consenting sexual situations between adults. Trigger Warnings • Explicit Language • Gun and Knife Violence • Mild Gore • Multiple MDKs (Murder Death Kill) • Stalking (the bad kind) • Abduction of both Heros and Villains • On Page Psychological and Physical Torture (of villains) • On Page Psychological Torture (of hero) • On Page Discussion of Past Domestic Abuse • On Page Discussion of Past Childhood Sex Trafficking • Grieving of Pet Death (past off page events) • Obsession (not the sexy kind) • Off Page Captivity of non MCs
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Excerpt
Loud thumping against Mini’s bedroom wall drove me out of the house. His room was on the other side of the house but there was nothing that could keep the steady pounding out of my ears. I took my phone out and called the one person who I hoped could empathize with me on my current plight.
“Hai.” The flat, curt tone of my brother’s shadow said more than one would think.
“Bob!” I whisper-yelled into the phone as I walked down the street at a brisk pace. “Why didn’t you warn me that even male SLIPs go into some sort of heat? I’ve never seen you act this way. I swear Mini has been going at it nonstop for three days. Days, Bob! Three of them!” My voice rose with my rant, and the night air was far chillier than I thought. I hadn’t paid attention to the time when I left.
Muffled snickering came across the line with Bob’s calm voice. “Dominic is young. As he gets older, it will calm.”
I shoved my free hand into my hoodie pocket regretting that I didn’t bring my gloves. “I don’t know how old he is, but I’ve seen more ass coming and going through his bedroom door, it should be a turnstile instead. He makes me look puritanical.”
“That’s normal, especially during the first hundred years or so.”
I switched hands and ears with my phone to warm the other side. “Great. I’ll probably be dead before Mini is out of this fuck anything that moves phase. At least I’m safe. He made it clear that he doesn’t have any interest in humans. Which, if he’s fucking the way I hear him, I can see why.”
“Some see humans as too delicate and others see them as a challenge. The self-control it takes to not use our full strength or not get carried away in the heat of the moment is a finely honed skill that only comes with age and practice.” Someone said something that I couldn’t quite hear, probably Connor. “Yes, it’s Shura.”
“Tell Conny I’m fine. I’m only mildly freezing my ass here.”
Faint voices could be heard, followed by the sound of fabric brushing against the microphone.
“Shura?”
“Hello.”
Finally, I turned onto Central Ave, and my destination was in sight. Even though this town was so small compared to Dhaka or many of the other cities I’d lived in the last few years, there were still parts that you didn’t want to venture into late at night unless you were asking to get into some shit. Fortunately, the main drag wasn’t too bad even after two a.m., for someone like me anyway.
“Do I need to request a new partner for you? Is Dominic not watching out for you?” Connor’s protectiveness of me warmed my soul even if the hoodie I was wearing wasn’t doing its job for my body.
“He’s fine, Conny. I promise. If I really needed him, he’d get his dick out of whoever and help me. He’s been a big help so far with getting all my stashes organized throughout the city.” My mouth started to water with anticipation of the treat I was after, which was only a few more steps ahead.
“Okay. That’s good. You tell him if he doesn’t watch your back, I’ll kick his ass.”
I laughed knowing that Connor would definitely try.
“And after I’m done kicking his ass, Bob will take over.”
I imagined Bob nodding in that stoic way he did but with the subtlest hint of a smirk on his lips. “Seriously, Conny. I’m fine. In fact, I’m about to walk into my favorite diner and have a cinnamon roll the size of my fist while I do some reading for class.”
“Oo, that sounds really yummy.” Connor’s tone instantly changed from hard ass big brother to the softer boy that ruled the whole mansion. “Maybe Daddy will make me some for breakfast tomorrow.”
“I have no doubt that he will. I’ll talk to you later, though. Tell everyone I said hi.” I paused at the corner of the building to end the call.
“I will. Sore Ja.”
The line cut and I pocketed my phone. I nodded to the rent-a-cop guarding the door as I opened it. The Frontier was a diner that called my name the first night I cruised around downtown. The smell of fresh coffee and cinnamon goodness filled the air, and overpowered the smell of booze coming from some people who, from the overly loud voices and wild gestures, had too much to drink.
I squeezed between tables and people standing around waiting for a free table. There was a stool with my name on it in the far corner of the counter that overlooked the service area in front of the kitchen. It was perfect despite the arrangement. Putting my back to the room, I was better able to hide and seem inconspicuous while also having the ability to scope the whole diner on the sly with a quick swivel.
I slid onto the stool and didn’t have to wait long before Consuela, one of the servers, whizzed by with a cup and the carafe of coffee.
“You want the usual, kid?” Her tone indicated that she didn’t mean to be insulting, and even though she was slammed, she didn’t rush our interaction. She gave me a genuine smile that made her eyes crinkle on the edges.
“Yes, please.” I gave her the most innocent smile I could with a nod.
I was a bad assassin. One of the many rules drilled into me was to not be memorable. It never failed, I’d find a few places everywhere I went that felt good to me, welcoming, and I got to know the people there. Granted, they only knew the fake persona I wore, but that was more than what I was supposed to do.
Thankfully, I didn’t mind being called kid. Considering I was pushing thirty, I looked damn good and with the right clothes like I had on now, I wouldn’t be clocked for over twenty-one. I had on my favorite worn black jeans, a plain black hoodie, combat boots, and a grey thermal shirt under a black T-shirt. I really should have worn something heavier, considering the near-freezing temps outside, but I was trying to play up the broke student look, not to mention my dash for freedom to escape the noise.
I cradled the hot coffee cup to finish thawing my hands. With life returning to my fingers, I put the cup down and doctored it with cream and sugar before taking a large drink of the almost too-hot coffee. It burned going down, but it warmed me nicely from the inside out.
Even after all these years after I was rescued from the hellhole that was my childhood by my now family, I still had moments where I felt alone in the world. My therapist reminded me regularly that these kinds of feelings are normal. Normal. The word alone made me scoff every time I heard it, especially in relation to my mental health. But being away from my family lately was harder than it had been in the beginning.
Author Bio
Within the shimmering guise of a mortal walks D.G. Carothers, a dragon of cunning intellect. A weaver of LGBTQIA Romance and Urban Fantasy tales, this enigmatic being revels in crafting narratives that dance between realms.
D.G. stands resolute in their commitment to unfurling tales unfettered by constraints. For in their eyes, love transcends all boundaries, a truth woven into the very fabric of their creations.
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