My young friend had a problem. I’d been mentoring him some since his father died a few months earlier. His problem wasn’t his father’s death. It wasn’t the fact that his father was very wealthy and, now, so was my young friend. He was prepared for that. We sat at the coffee shop, and he worked up the courage to tell me what he needed my help with. Finally, he took a deep breath, looked me in the eye, and leaned across the table toward me. “Dude, it’s my dad’s widow. You gotta take her off my hands. You’re the only one I can trust and the only one who can help me.”

Tim is an ordinary thoroughly modern, Atomic Age man of the 1980s or 90s. He has a nice apartment in a typical high-rise and a luxury Skycar to toodle about in when he wants to leave the city. This morning, Tim is headed to the department store–not to shop, but to look again at his favorite mannequin. We won’t judge him because we don’t know the story yet. We are about to.

Sitting here on the beach, I could see my now useless glider plane, various bits of driftwood and debris, and a girl with long black hair, about a hundred and fifty feet away. The girl was new. She hadn’t been there for the past three days, the way that everything else had. I was sitting under a tree looking out at the ocean. It was probably the Pacific Ocean. I didn’t know for sure. When she got closer, she called out, but not loudly. It sounded something like, “Aquilala soma towatsina.” Or something like that. I didn’t understand a word of it. It was a nice language, though. I ...

There was something out there. I could hear it. There, beyond the beach, behind the tree-line. Off to my left, out of sight. I was still on the beach, just beyond the waterline. I crawled here a few minutes ago. I heard the rustling almost immediately; as soon as I had become conscious again. I didn’t know how long I had been there, apparently washed up by a higher tide sometime earlier. My clothes were still wet, so I must not have been here more than a few hours. I didn’t wake up coughing, so it didn’t seem that I had drowned. The life-jacket seemed to have kept me above water. I ...

I was kneeling on one knee, Terminator-style, like in that scene where he first arrives in 1984. Very much like that, actually. There were no flashes of lightning or anything like that. But there had been a lot of wind the moment before. Unlike a moment before, I wasn’t alone, and I wasn’t in my hotel room overlooking the ocean. Scattered around me were the bodies of twenty men. At the front of the large stone room were four more men, very much alive, and a woman screaming. Rushing at them, I reached them just as one of the men was about to strike the woman in the face. In that instant,...

Inherit money. Inherit power. Inherit everything from the father he never knew. Sean Costello’s life just went from zero to a hundred million in the blink of an eye. But in Las Vegas, every fortune has a price. A stunning casino, a penthouse overflowing with secrets, and a harem of women who are as dangerous as they are desirable. Between the matriarch of the house, a loyal but suspicious childhood friend, and a dangerously tempting maid, Sean quickly discovers how easily pleasure and danger can intertwine. Note: This book contains mature themes.

It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t even see her. There was a bump, and the next thing I knew, she was sitting in my passenger seat. Hitting her with my car didn’t kill her. She was already dead when I smashed into her. But sitting beside me, smiling, wearing a tie-dye outfit from the Hippie era of the 1960s, she didn’t look like a ghost. She looked great for a dead girl. I kept driving. She had things to say. She was saying that she’d be happy to be my “old lady” now. I'm just trying to stay in control of the car and not freak out at the girl suddenly beside me. When the car stops ...

Last thing I remembered, I was in my backyard, thoughtfully pruning a bonsai tree. The next thing I remembered was alarms and bells and flashing lights and a voice yelling that death was imminent. And now, I was staring down at a beautiful female clone, gray and featureless, about to wake her up from transport hibernation. On a space ship. In space. Thank goodness I still had my bonsai scissors. Otherwise I’d never have been able to cut open her containment bag and that imminent death thing would have killed her. The voice said that there was more of them and that I’d better hurry if I ...

My name is Ronin. This is the second book of my life as an Adventurer Monk. I left my clan’s village a few weeks ago. I took nothing but the clothes that I wore, the wooden sword that I had carved myself, and a sharpened piece of flint. I didn’t have a cloak to sleep in until later, when I had worked enough to have a few coins buy one. In fact, I didn’t even have a name. I was an Adventurer Monk, a novice, trained by my father and grandfather, but now on my own. Now I have a village, a place that I call home, and two women. And the girl called Harmony. I also have a war to start. ...

Gregory is eager to sell off the farm he inherited from his estranged mother—until he encounters the captivating women who also have a stake in the inheritance. Paula Lovejoy is a passionate, diligent, and resilient single mother of two. Her adult daughter Belle not only mirrors her mother's appearance but also shares her affection for the farm. The farm is their cherished home, and both women are determined to hold onto it despite its lack of profitability. When Greg discovers the extent to which these women will go to defend their home, he decides to assist them. However, Greg is not ...

My buddy, the self-described image consultant, wanted me to meet one of his clients. All he would tell me was that she was 'odd' and he thought I should meet her. We got along great. She was easy to talk to. I liked her a lot. There was an honest attraction. But after coffee, when she tried to pay me for the hour and a half we spent together, I realized that where I thought this was a date, she thought it was an appointment. She thought she had been referred to me as a relationship coach. So we started over. As friends. But my buddy was right. She was a little odd. Six-feet tall. A ...

Paul’s son and daughter-in-law have a plan for the holidays. A gift exchange. But only between Paul and his son’s mother-in-law. The kids expect it to be life-changing because that’s the kind of guy Paul is. They don’t know what kind of gift he’ll give, but as always, it will have no monetary value. Not because he isn’t generous. Because he is. But first, he has to teach this woman how to hug.Paul’s son and daughter-in-law have a plan for the holidays. A gift exchange. But only between Paul and his son’s mother-in-law. The kids expect it to be life-changing because that’s ...

My name is Ronin. This is the third book of my life as an Adventurer Monk. So far, I’ve made a name for myself locally and established a house with wonderful mates. Today, the 311-year-old Elf-Woman, The White Falcon, appeared and says that she will join us. She was a surprise. 311 looks good on a strong-blooded Elf. This should be an adventure in itself. The Kobold Cave is empty…of Kobolds. I expect even more dangerous creatures are waiting for us deeper in. I intend to take my beautiful, highly sexual spouses, and explore it. At least four of us, and possibly five now, are Adventurers...

The tavern was about half full and there was no reason for this one table to have ten chairs and only one occupant. Except that she was sitting there. At her table. I say her table because she seemed to be the captain of her own little island nation, exiled and alone in an otherwise busy tavern. She didn’t look up until she heard my chair scrape the floor when I moved it so that I could sit down. I think it startled her. I know it did. It wasn’t that she wasn’t observant and didn’t see me coming, it was that I was unusually hard to see. And so was she. She wasn’t waiting for a ...

At least I was out in the air again. The past few days had been underground in a prison cell. I had hardly eaten since my capture. If I won my fight, I would win my freedom. Those were the rules. I was naked and bare-handed. So was my opponent. That didn’t make it an especially fair fight. I was strong and just short of six feet tall. My opponent was at least six-nine, maybe seven feet. An Ogress. Her size and slightly mottled skin gave her away. She was naked and bare-handed, too. The story is related to The Guardian Maidens or Sturgil’s Mark. It isn’t a sequel, and it’s not ...