New Release Day: A Tate Pack Serial Anthology
It’s out! It’s out!
The Tate Pack Serial Anthology: four Tate Pack books sold separately or in a bundle is out and available on ARe (
Here are the covers, blurbs and excerpts:
It’s Valentine’s Day and the Tate pack couples should be excited and extremely lovey-dovey as they express their love for each other just like every other couple in the world. But Richard and Vet are fighting. Tommy is sitting around in ratty jeans and a T-shirt, crying and singing Cher. Michael and Maurice have disappeared and Alex has been spending hours outside chopping wood that isn’t needed.
The cowboy shifters are all confused as to why their mates are so miserable, especially after the amazing Christmas they just celebrated.
So how will they prove to their mates just how much they love them? And where the hell are Michael and Maurice?
Return to Witchita Falls, Texas and the Tate pack and see if life on the ranch during Valentine’s, the holiday for lovers, is still as sexy, loving and glorious as it’s always been.
Tommy looked down at the torn and ratty jeans he currently wore and sighed. What was the point in being beautiful when your mate was completely and utterly clueless? He put his hand on his iPod and turned up Cher as she sang about moving on after love is over. He nodded his head mouthing the words along with her. He looked up when he heard the front door open. With another sigh, this one heavier, louder, and far more dramatic for the inconvenience of having to get up to take care of said clueless mate, he walked into the kitchen. Tommy stopped short at what he saw.
Sitting in the middle of the floor was a small white puppy, inside of beautiful Louis Vuitton puppy carrier. Tommy wasn’t sure if he was more excited about the puppy or the bag. With a small squeal of delight he rushed over in his bare feet towards the now yapping dog.
“I am a pure-bred Maltese” the tag on the bag said and Tommy’s eyes filled with tears. He couldn’t believe Ton remembered him saying he’d always wanted a white Maltese dog. Maybe his big, Texan cowboy wasn’t so clueless after all?
“I hope I got the right color,” Ton said behind him. Tommy lifted the puppy into his arms before turning to smile brightly at his mate. Rushing forward, he threw himself, puppy and all into Ton’s arms. He didn’t need anything else in that moment, he had everything he needed and had ever wanted: a man who loved him, a beautiful, pure-bred Maltese puppy, and a fabulous Louis Vuitton bag. Richard was going to be so jealous over the bag. The only thing that would make this moment better would be if he were wearing the hot new pair of green Manolo pumps, with the gorgeous green wraparound skirt and fabulous white peasant blouse he’d just bought online. With thoughts of changing his clothes and putting on his makeup, not to mention taking the hideous ponytail out of his hair and letting his black waves hang free racing through his mind, it took Tommy a while to realize that Ton was talking.
“…figured that this would get you out of those jeans. Especially since you were being ridiculous anyway,” Ton said with a grin before leaning forward to kiss Tommy on the side of his neck.
At Ton’s heartless words, Tommy felt his anger and hurt resurface. He pushed out of his mate’s arms glaring at the other man before stomping out of the room. Tommy ignored the big idiot’s shocked face as he flounced back towards the bedroom.
And if he walked back out only moments later, still holding the puppy, whom he’d wisely named Lady Madonna Streisand after identifying her as biologically female, because really, who knew if the dog might identify with being male, and picked up his Louis Vuitton bag where he’d left it, before stomping back to the room—
—well… who could blame him? No matter how angry he was with Ton, a Louis Vuitton bag was still a Louis Vuitton bag.
Leprechauns don’t exist, wolf shifters don’t get drunk easily and there’s no old Irish Saint Patrick to come and save the day for the Tate pack. There’s only the Tate cowboys who are anxiously trying to find the mates who were kidnapped shortly after Valentine’s Day.
Between Richard and Tommy trying to get Howell and Katharina drunk, Calvin rushing off to save his captured mate and the unexpected people who keep showing up, all with connections to the Tate pack, this St. Patrick’s Day is sure to be one that Tate Ranch will never forget.
Calvin huffed a blast of air from his nostrils before pressing his muzzle down to the cold, wet earth. He’d been running for hours on pure adrenaline alone and now he was tired. His body wanted to stop and rest, demanded it actually, but he couldn’t stop. He had to keep going. His mate was out there, alone, kidnapped, scared, and he had to find him. He’d promised Maurice he’d never let him get taken again. He’d promised him that he would always protect him. He’d failed him. He’d failed his mate. The thought that he wouldn’t be able to hold the tiny man, who looked almost like an ethereal, porcelain doll, in his arms again made his chest tighten. The muscles in his heart clenching, he raised his head from the ground, tilted it up towards the sky and opened his mouth on a long, powerful ululation of heartbreak and despair. The rage he felt at his mate’s kidnapping made the sound ring out more harshly. His eyes slid closed as he shuddered in pain, his entire body jerking each time he howled. The noise penetrated the Earth and rose into the atmosphere, vibrating the ground beneath him and stirring the winds into a frenzy. The disturbance caused the animals in the surrounding forest to cover their heads in shame at the sound of his anguish.
How had he so failed his mate? They had not been mated long, but already he loved Maurice more than life itself. Realizing his misery had caused him to shift back, Calvin sank his fingers into the dirt beneath him, ripping up the rocks and roots buried there. He couldn’t feel Maurice. The tattoo on his shoulder, always a steady hum of connection to his mate had begun throbbing sporadically in painful, breath-stealing bursts around the time of Maurice’s disappearance and continued to throb at different moments, but it had suddenly just stopped. Did that mean Maurice was gone? Had Calvin just lost his beautiful mate?
Hot tears streamed down his face, soaking the already damp dirt beneath him with the evidence of his pain. His stomach roiled as he dry-heaved, his knees pressing deeper into the ground each time. He let out another yell, this one bordering on a scream, of utter misery as he felt a suddenly renewed throbbing of his tattoo that intensified as if it were being burned off his shoulder with a laser.
What did that mean? Was Maurice still alive? Was he even now being beaten and tortured? How he wished that he’d asked Maurice more about his secret, more about his true identity, but he’d been so happy that he’d found his mate, that he’d rescued him, that he hadn’t thought to find out everything that he could. And now…now it might be too late.
“Stop crying and get up, so you can help me find my brother, jackass.” A low, growling voice said from above. The vibrations in the stranger’s voice echoed through Calvin’s body.
Calvin looked up in shock. He gasped in surprise at the look of the man above him. He was an almost spitting image of Maurice, though this man was slightly taller and just a smidge broader than his mate. Wait, had he said brother?
The time for games is over. The VWA (Vampire Warriors of America) has arrived and their leader, Asher Lazaro, has come to Texas to join with the Tate Pack cowboys to find and reclaim his mate, Rowan Teilo, Ross’s younger brother. Rowan is locked up in a cell with Michael, Michael’s kids and Maurice, who is hiding a secret of his own. The Tate Pack are on the hunt to find the missing mates and bring those who would dare to bring them harm to justice. They are not prepared for what… or rather who, they find.
The Tate Pack has seen some miracles after all the messes they’ve gotten themselves into, but this one is a whole lot more… holy than even they could have expected.
Rowan looked around nervously as he followed the line of other travelers from the plane to boarding call. He had no idea what or who he was actually looking for, he knew that if his mother and father had still been alive that they would be very upset to know that their son had escaped from his foster parents in order to go to Miami. He had every intention of actually going to one of the museums in the country, but first he wanted to find his brother, Ross. It always came down to Ross. Ever since Rowan had found out that he had an older brother…that his mother had been mated before and had given birth to another child, he’d been practically obsessed with the idea of finding his older brother and living with him. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his foster parents, they were cool people, for humans, but Rowan was half wolf shifter, half elf, and he’d grown up surrounded by his elven family. His father’s family was wood elves and had always been around, no matter where he went or what he did. He would never be able to get to know his brother if they were around. They tended to look down on wolf shifters, which meant that they looked down on Rowan and his mother.
Rowan grabbed the strap of his backpack and pulled the bag up on his shoulder more securely as he walked with his head down, trying not to draw any attention to himself. While he knew that there wouldn’t be a missing person’s bulletin out for him just yet, when night fell and his foster parents realized that he wasn’t in New York City, staying at the hotel in Manhattan, they would be frantic and the least amount of people who saw him, the better.
He lifted his nose as the distant smell of jasmine, rainwater and musk drifted up to his nose. It was the most heavenly scent that he’d ever smelled in his life. Closing his eyes, Rowan’s nostrils flared as he pulled in more of the delicious fragrance. His mother had told him that his nose would lead him to his mate and his father had told him that he would hear the song of his mate’s heart. Listening closely, Rowan could hear the faint thrumming of guitar strings and the subtle beat of a drum drawing closer to him.
Oh gods, his mate was here. He’d only turned eighteen the day before and now he was meeting his mate?
Clearing his throat, Rowan stood to his full 5’2” height and smoothed down his long black hair that hung to the middle of his back. His cousins had teased him about his delicate features and his long hair, telling him that he looked more female than male, but Rowan had paid them no mind, he knew that he was beautiful; his parents had always told him so and more than that, he could smell the arousal wafting off of his mate even from this distance.
Looking around, Rowan found his gaze trapped and held by the mouthwatering sight of the most muscled man he’d ever seen in his life. The man’s muscles had to have their own zip code. His black hair shone brightly in the fluorescent lighting of the airport and his grey eyes gleamed with an intensity that made Rowan feel possessed, desired and a need so powerful that Rowan shivered. Offering his mate a tremulous smile as the man began heading his way, Rowan slowly walked towards his large mate. He’d only taken a few steps with the burning stench of evil wafted up towards his nose, seconds before he felt his body jerking backward slightly as someone grabbed onto the back of his bag.
Growling, Rowan started to turn his head only to hear a hissing noise followed by words that froze him in his tracks.
“Don’t move pretty boy. You’re going to help me get out of here without your big, scary ass boyfriend trying to kill me first,” the menacing stranger growled at him and Rowan’s stomach rolled.
Vampire. Rogue vampire. Shit.
Sometimes finding your mate comes with a price.
And sometimes that prices may be just a little too high.
Zander Laskaris has spent most of his life looking for his mate. Joining his brothers Zathan and Zavier, he joins the Tate Pack still hoping to one day find his mate. The man who will be all he’s ever hoped for and all he’ll ever need.
Former soldier Devontae Robinson doesn’t want his mate. He doesn’t think he deserves him. After enlisting in the Army with his friends Derik and Lewis, Devontae returns home to the Tate Ranch under a medical discharge… and with the body of one of his friends in a coffin. He’s haunted by war, by rumors, by the information that he’s received about someone kidnapping paranormals and selling them on the slave market. He wants to curl up and die, not find the one man not only able to heal his heart and help him heal but to get him to fly again, but giving him the anchor he so desperately needs.
These two men will discover that Fate always knows best and that sometimes, in order to truly experience the freedom of flying, one must first give up control.
Zander walked closer to the group and noticed the mates all coming down the steps toward the stranger. As Ton took Tommy into his arms, Zander caught a glimpse of the most beautiful young man he’d ever seen in his life. His skin was the color of smooth milk chocolate, his lips full, his nose slim, and he was so short and thin that Zander knew that his own 6’8” frame would scare the younger man away. Pushing away the lust the suddenly overwhelmed him at the sight of the other man, Zander found himself still walking closer to the stranger.
When the wind blew the most delicious scent of apple pie, musk, and rainstorm his way, Zander felt his cock harden immediately and his hands shift.
Blinking his shifted eyes, Zander stared at the beautiful black man. Devontae was his mate. His mate. He’d finally found his mate. His heart pounding in his chest and unable to hold back his exultation, he let loose a loud “MINE” and ran across the yard toward the man created just for him. He saw the looks of surprise and excitement on the faces of many of the pack members, but it was the look of pity on the faces of those closest to Devontae that almost gave him pause. Why would they pity him?
Coming to a stop in front of the young man, Zander looked into the smaller man’s eyes and felt himself falling for him instantly. Gods, Devontae was so heart-breakingly beautiful. Zander wanted to weep that Fate had given him someone as gorgeous as the man in front of him. It was only after he’d taken in Devontae’s gorgeous face that he took in the uniform that his mate wore. His mate was in the Army? Feeling his heart pound at his future lover’s sacrifice, Zander lowered his head down to the younger man’s neck and inhaled deeply. The intoxicating scent of the smaller man zapped its way through his system and wrapped around his cock.
Every part of him wanted to be inside of Devontae right then.
“Mine,” he growled softly into his mate’s ear, hearing the other man’s soft moan and feeling the sound suffuse his body.
He was so glad to know that the feeling wasn’t one-sided. His mate was just as affected by him as he was by the younger man. Gods, why did they have to be outside right now? Outside and in front of everyone. Zander wanted to do nothing more than to peel off every scrap of clothing on Devontae’s thin frame and make love to every inch of his gorgeous body.
“Gods, I want you,” he rasped out as he pulled Devontae closer to him.
“I want you too,” Devontae responded, his voice sounding small and hesitant. “But we can’t, mate. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”
Or you can get all four books together:
What begins as a typical day at the Tate Ranch turns into the the Tate cowboys’s worst nightmare.
From mates disappearing and being kidnapped, the appearance of vampires and the loss of one of their own, will the Tate Pack be able to survive when faced with Love, Liquor, Chocolates and Loyalty?
Tommy had been livid. He couldn’t remember ever being that upset with Ton…ever. He’d seen red, blue, green, yellow, purple…he was so upset with his mate in that moment that he’d seen every color of the damn gay rainbow flag and he’d known that one of two things had to happen in that moment in order for him to not wind up in prison, wearing a horrible orange jumpsuit. Either Ton needed to apologize or Tommy needed to leave. So when Ton hadn’t apologized to him, had merely folded his arms and smirked, Tommy had turned on his very expensive heel and left. He’d gone to the bedroom, slamming the door in a way that even the goddess, Barbra, herself would have been proud of. Then, after making sure that said door was locked, he’d put on his heartbreak outfit and turned on his Cher cd, because while Lady Gaga sang about self-empowerment and Barbra sang about love, no one could sing about idiot men and heartbreak like Cher.
He’d foolishly believed that after a few hours Ton would realize the error of his ways and return to him to apologize.
He was wrong…again.
Dammit, he should really start getting paid for every time he was wrong about his mate. He’d be a fucking millionaire by now.
So since his dumb mate couldn’t pull his head out of his ass long enough to realize his mistake and apologize, Tommy refused to cook for him, refused to clean for him and absolutely refused to put out for him. Nope, no ass for Mr. Anton Forrester. No mouth and no dick either. Tommy had been firm with himself; he’d shaken his finger at his reflection in the mirror with determination.
Okay, so he’d caved the first time Ton knocked on the door. Sue him. It wasn’t his fault that Ton’s cock had him completely hypnotized.
Gods, he was so weak when it came to his mate and Ton’s delicious muscles. However, his resolve did stick in certain areas. While he was still cooking for the big idiot, he wasn’t making his best meals. He’d been making things like meatloaf, casserole and his favorite Fuck-you-idiot meal, Hamburger Helper. He’d done a happy Irish jig inside when Ton had looked at him in horror and asked if he was sick. He merely shook his head no and picked up his fork to eat. After Ton had eaten and gone into the bathroom to shower, Tommy pulled out the beef stroganoff he’d made for himself. He wasn’t a completely heartless harpy like some people though. He’d gone out on the porch to eat it.
A part of him felt bad that he wasn’t giving his mate his best. He felt bad that he was, in fact, being the spoiled brat Ton had accused him of being. Then his mind would return to their argument and he would replay Ton’s horrible words. That was all it took to renew his resolve and help him continue with Project-Chop-Down-An-Idiot-Tree. At least that’s what he called it in his head; he’d merely told the other mates that he was going to make his man regret ever saying a bad thing about New Yorkers for the rest of his overgrown, stupid Texan life. Okay, he knew that Texans weren’t stupid, Tommy liked Texans, it was just that his Texan seemed to get underneath his craw on a repetitive basis.
Horrified that he’d just thought the word “craw” and still upset over his mate’s idiocy, Tommy sniffled and looked around the room for the box of tissues that he kept in the room to help remove his fingernail polish. When he heard his phone buzz and then start ringing Adele’s “Set Fire to the Rain,” Tommy hummed along and picked up the phone with a smile. It was Maurice calling. He and the other mate had grown extremely close since Christmas. Maybe it was the fact that they’d both been abused. Maybe it was the fact that they both were extremely short and slim. Maybe it was that neither of them wanted or had children. Maybe it was even the fact that out of the five mates, they were the only two who didn’t work outside of taking care of their mates… and in his case, looking fabulous for said mate. Whatever the reason, the two of them were thick as thieves and he knew Maurice would be thrilled Tommy had a puppy now. He picked up the phone with a smile in his voice all ready to hear gossip and to share his own.
“What up Reesay?” Tommy said with a chuckle. He heard Maurice’s soft and breathless laughter and felt his heart squeeze. His friend had endured so much and every time he made the younger man laugh, Tommy felt as if a little piece of the Earth healed itself and you know, angels sighed and babies were born…all of the good shit romance writers wrote in cheesy books about people falling in love and starting a family. Yuck, he was all about two men falling in love but sometimes those romance writers took things a little too far. Tommy nudged the bottom drawer of the nightstand closed. That particular drawer might or might not hold all of his gay romances. He cleared his throat as his eyes flicked over the names William Neale, Cherie Noel, MJ O’Shea and Damon Suede.
“Nothing Tom-Tom, ‘cept…I got a little situation,” Maurice stated hesitantly.