Ardy Kelly has a new MM paranormal mpreg book out: The Cub Club. Please join me in welcoming Ardy to my blog. Ardy is here today sharing a guest post with us about their writing process for this wonderful new book!
The Cub Club by Ardy Kelly
Publisher: Self published
Release Date: Tuesday, October 9 2018
Length: Novel / 65,000 words
Genres: Mpreg, wolf-shifter, m/m, romance
Pairings: Steven (single gay day) and Mack (alpha of Lone Wolves Ranch)
Tropes: wolf-shifter, widower finding love again
Keywords/Categories: Gay, transgender minor character
Warnings: mpreg, knotting
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!
“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?”
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?”
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.”
☆ Guest Post ☆
How long does it take you to write a book?
The first book took several decades. I kept trying to write something, but would lose interest before I got very far. I believe it was because I tried to write a book someone else would want to read. It wasn’t until I started writing something I wanted to read that I actually got through a first draft.
The biggest hurdle is having something to say. I don’t mean that to sound like my books have some great moral message. My first book, Best Laid Plans (writing as Robyn Kelly) was because I was sick of reading about alpha billionaires being obsessed with virgins. I have nothing against virgins. Some of my best friends in high school were virgins. But I prefer to give the virgins to the bad boys. Billionaires deserve a partner with experience.
My non-paranormal books probably need three months to write, but they each took a year. The process looked like this.
1. I got an idea.
2. I start writing and get a solid 20,000 words.
3. I was so excited that the book was writing itself, I booked the earliest date with my editor, which was often six months out.
4. Because six months felt like forever, I stopped writing.
5. A month before my book was due to my editor I panicked and started writing again.
6. When I got it back from my editor I had a lot of changes to make.
7. About this time I remembered I need a cover, and that’s a whole other wormhole.
8. I published the book, and promised I’ll never do it that way again.
9. See #1
The Cub Club was a different experience. I had started a book during Cocky-gate. I got a solid 20,000 words and booked my editor. The problem was that book was all about using the word cocky as many times as I could. That got old quickly. About that time I noticed all the paranormal books I read were Omega SVU. I had the idea to write a book about a non-victim Omega. But I had to write it fast to keep my date with my editor.
Deadlines are a great motivator for me, but only if I have a clear idea of what I’m writing. The year I tried Nanowrimo was a failure. My muse likes deadlines, not word-counts for some reason.
When anyone asked Mom what time Dad would be home she would always say, “I expect him when I see him.” That’s the same response I have when people ask me, “When’s the next book coming out?”
Meet the Author
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
Ardy is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour – for a chance to win, enter via Rafflecopter!
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