Ardy Kelly has a new MM paranormal mpreg book out:
What would you do if your adopted son shifted into a wolf cub before your eyes?
For single dad Steven the choice was simple - find the boy's family and hope they had the answers.
As the alpha of Lone Wolves Ranch, Mack trusted in humans as much as he trusted in love. Not at all. But he has a soft spot for the brave man searching for his son's relatives. When he discovers Steven is his fated mate, he's stuck between a soft spot and a hard place.
The Cub Club is a gay wolf shifter romance containing Mpreg and knotting. A complete 65,000-word novel - no cliffhanger!
Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CAN
Giveaway
Ardy is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour – for a chance to win, enter via Rafflecopter:
Excerpt
“We got company. There’s a biker at the gate.”
Mack looked up from the paperwork, staring at the walkie-talkie. It was unusual to have visitors. It was even more unusual for Sarge not to handle it on his own. The man was an excellent head of security, but he favored shifting and playing a rabid dog every time someone approached the ranch. It was effective. There wasn’t a repairman within fifty miles who would take their calls.
Mack picked up the radio. “I didn’t hear a motorcycle.”
“He’s on a friggin’ bicycle. Dressed in khakis and a button-down shirt. Who the hell dresses business casual in the Sierra backwoods?”
“Real estate agent?” Mack switched to the security camera feed on his computer. The mystery man stood outside the gate, holding a bicycle. “What’s he want?”
“Won’t say. Says he needs to talk to whoever runs the school here. Says it’s personal.”
Mack took another long look at the screen. If someone wanted to appear non-threatening, this man had it down pat.
“But here’s the weird thing,” Sarge continued. “I can’t smell him. I mean, he had to bicycle three miles down that dirt road, and in this heat I should be able to smell something.”
Sarge was of the old guard. Paranoid about discovery. Distrusting of humans. There was always a perfectly reasonable explanation for any visit, rare as they were. “I’m coming.”
Mack walked out of his office, into the hot afternoon sun. Everybody has a scent, he reasoned. Is Sarge getting a head cold?The gate was less than fifty feet away, and he saw the man waiting patiently.
He locked eyes with the stranger. The gaze he received in return wasn’t threatening or defiant. It held an intense curiosity. Too curious. This wasn’t ranch business.
Mack didn’t need to be any closer to take in the details. His suspicion heightened his senses, and he was on the alert for any potential danger. The man was attractive. Maybe in his mid-thirties, though prematurely gray. He was dressed exactly as Sarge had described, holding a mountain bike.
The only thing odd was what Sarge had already noticed: the man didn’t have a scent. There was something, but no stronger than salty sea air. Considering there wasn’t an ocean for more than a hundred miles, it was the only unique thing about him. Maybe he’s a merman.
Mack amped up his alpha attitude, swaggering the last few steps to the gate, before slapping his hand on the metal bars. “Can I help you?”
The stranger looked exhausted and tense. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his knuckles were white where he gripped the bike. He was covered in dust, much more than was usual. By late summer, the dirt road kicked up thick clouds of the stuff, but this was still June. Where had he bicycled from?
“I need to speak to whoever is in charge,” he said. The voice attempted to sound authoritative but cracked in the middle of the sentence, displaying an undercurrent of fear. Mack thought it strange he couldn’t smell it on him. “It’s about one of your students,” the stranger said.
Great. The man was a local, dressed in his Sunday best. The policy of the ranch was to be respectful but distant from their neighbors. Sometimes it was hard to accomplish that when you had teenagers. “Have they been causing trouble?”
The man shook his head. “No. An old student. Carol Rydell.”
Carol?Mack hadn’t thought of his cousin in years. She had been a rebellious teenager, with an overbearing alpha father. Uncle Jon was the alpha, and the old man didn’t like to be questioned. Carol had been too much like her father and didn’t like to be ordered around. She ran away at sixteen, and no one spoke of her since.
As much as Mack wanted to lie and say, “Never heard of her,” he found himself asking, “What do you want to know?”
The man’s poker face slipped, and worry was written all over it. “Did she have any family?”
“Why?”
He took a breath, and then blurted out, “Because she died thirteen years ago. In childbirth. And I adopted her son.”
If this was a ploy to get Mack to admit the ranch catered to the supernatural, it was a good one. Carol’s son could have come into puberty just in time for the full moon three days ago. And Mack recognized the look in the man’s eyes. Shift-faced.The human had seen the boy change. Or had he? He looked tense. But why can’t I smell his anxiety?
Mack realized he needed to be noncommittal. Get the man to tell him everything, while revealing nothing to him. “What’s your name?”
“Steven.”
Mack didn’t bother introducing himself. He was going to give the stranger the absolute minimum until he knew who he was talking to. “So, you’re raising Carol’s thirteen-year-old boy.” He opened the gate. “I bet you have questions.”
“You have no idea. I mean, I’m hoping you do.”
He wheeled the bike inside, while Sarge closed the gate behind them.
“You can leave that here,” Mack instructed, pointing at the bike.
Sarge stood beside him but Steven hesitated, as if this were his last chance to escape. No one said a word while Mack held his gaze, signaling my turf, my rules. Steven relinquished the handlebars, and Mack’s wolf purred. It’s fun bossing around humans.
The two walked the short distance to Sarge’s shack. It was half-jokingly called the guard house because all business with outsiders was handled here. No strangers got farther than this point without Mack’s approval, and few even made it that far. However, thisconversation needed four walls around it.
Once inside, Mack sat behind the desk. He needed to be intimidating and distant. “So, Carol’s son…” Mack waited to see whether Steven would supply the name of the boy. The long pause let him know he wouldn’t. “Has he recently come into puberty?”
When Steven nodded, Mack gave him a guarded smile. “I assume you’re not here because you caught him masturbating during the full moon.”
The Cub Club - What was your first published work? Tell me about it.
Best
Laid Plans was my first published work in November of 2015. It started as
a lark. I had read 50 Shades of Grey, torn between “I can’t believe
I’m reading this” and “I can’t put it down!” I always credit that book with
giving me “permission” to write, because I realized you could tell a compelling
story without being Ernest Hemingway.
I
came up with the idea of gently spoofing E.L. James by having my main character
be an event planner who throws PG-rated 50 Shade themed bachelorette &
birthday parties. At a particularly disastrous one she offends a real-life
Christian Grey.
I
wanted to write for decades, but could never get past the first chapter. A few
ideas would come, and then I’d lose interest. Maybe I didn’t have anything to
say when I was younger. However, these characters wouldn’t leave me alone. They
kept popping into my head.
When
my little rescue dog died, it left me with a lot of free time, so I sat at my
computer and started getting their story down. All those months my characters
pestered me had paid off. It almost wrote itself. In fact, it turned into a
series.
Whenever
I was stuck on a scene, I would go back to the E.L. James books and scrounge
for something I could tweak to make it comical. An art show with large pictures
of Anna? Check. A masked ball? Check. Removing your panties in public? Double
check.
I
was pretty naïve about romance when I started writing. I didn’t know what HEA,
BBW, or Mpreg stood for. I still don’t
understand why the hero gets a capital H, while the heroine gets a lower case
h. I would give Christian Grey a big O (and hope he would give me one in
return!)
By
the time I had written all the books in my M/F story, I had read enough M/M
paranormal books to want to dive into that genre. I like playing in a world
that is as loosely tied to reality as I want.
The Cub Club is my first M/M book. In
my universe shifters are still hidden. I’m not a fan of dystopic worlds. It’s
hard enough for me to get through the work day already. I prefer the conflicts
in my book to be interpersonal rather than global.
I
hadn’t anticipated the hardest part of writing that book… the word “he”.
Writing M/F you can say “He lifted her arms” and everybody knows who is doing
what. But if you have two men and write
“He lifted his arms,” nobody knows
whose arms are in the air.
The
biggest surprise was how quickly people found The Cub Club on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited. My contemporary
romances needed a lot of publicity to
find an audience, but readers were posting ratings on Goodreads a few days
after I released it.
Author Bio
Ardy Kelly is my paranormal pen name. I work for one of the top boutique event planning companies in San Francisco, and I can't risk having our clientele (or my boss) discover my passion for aggressive, sexual, alpha men.
I started writing steamy contemporary romance in 2015 under the name Robyn Kelly. At that time, only virgins seemed to be nabbing troubled billionaires, and I thought it was time to write a book where experience counted for something. When I discovered the Omegaverse last year, I noticed a lot of stories where Omegas were weak little victims, and decided to tackle that issue as well.
Much as I love writing all types of romance I don’t mind poking fun at the genre, too. My books always have a lot of humor, and usually one character is reading or writing a particularly silly romance book.
Author Website: www.robynkellyauthor.comm/ardykellyauthor
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