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The next book in the Wingspan Series is coming April 26, 2023!

A grumpy dragon with a backache and a hoarding problem. A chubby vampire with a sunny disposition and a secret. Housekeeping has never been more sensual.

Cormac MacIver used to be a bad boy. One mistake gives him a lifetime of pain. After trying every remedy known to dragon shifters and countless doctors’ visits, he doesn’t expect to feel relief ever again. He doesn’t expect his sexy new housekeeper to be his fated mate, either.

Jarrell Piernos has a secret. Each day spent in Wingspan brings him closer to discovery. When his new client turns out to be his much older mate, he knows he’ll have to face the truth and possibly rejection.

Can Cormac work through the pain and be what his young mate needs? How trustworthy is a grumpy older dragon shifter, anyway?

Cleaning Up MacIver is the sensual seventh book in the Wingspan Paranormal MM Romance series. If you like older grumpy dragon shifters who need a tender touch to work out all the kinks, a vampire with a secret and a self-esteem problem, and fated mates with more differences than similarities, then you’ll enjoy this adventurous tale.

Exclusive Excerpt

I can be brave. Nothing scary inside. Not a giant shifter of a man. Nothing to fear.

Jarrell’s heart lodged in his throat when he turned the knob.

The place was dark inside. Like a tomb. The difference in lighting from outside to in made it difficult for his vision to adjust, but his enhancement helped somewhat.

He stilled on the other side of the threshold.

“Hello,” he called out, wanting to alert the occupant of his presence.

The drapes looked heavy and pulled shut. Jarrell could see how the left one hung at an odd angle. Part of the curtain wasn’t attached to the rod. Trash lay everywhere. On the coffee table and the kitchen counter. There were even wrappers and empty soda bottles on the floor.

He expected it to smell bad, but it didn’t. It smelled a little like The Cookie Cutter Bakery. Jarrell had a sudden craving for cinnamon rolls.

The door opened into the living room. An old couch that had seen better days but appeared comfortable sat against the left wall. A wide-screen television that someone had turned on and then abandoned sat on a wide table. A basketball game played at a low volume. Besides a coffee table barely visible past all the clutter, only a recliner and end table made up the living area. Miscellaneous stuff lined the walls. Blankets and clothing lay in a pile. A cat lay on top of them. Stacks of magazines piled next to boxes. Most of the boxes were brown unmarked cardboard, but some had pictures of what came inside. Small appliances and car parts.

Aside from the candy bar wraps and half empty dishes, the rest of the place needed a good scrub. But it wasn’t a dire situation. With a little effort, he could get the place in shape.

Jarrell set his bucket on the floor and kneeled to put the cat. She was friendly, purring almost as soon as Jarrell ran his hand down her fat belly. She was a pretty calico with gray and orange fur. “Hello, kitty.”

He would love nothing more than to spend the rest of the day with her but he had a client to check on and a house to clean.

A peninsula separated the kitchen from the living room. Dirty dishes mixed with clean ones. Or Jarrell assumed some were clean. It was difficult to tell the difference. Another stack of magazines sat next to a coffee maker that didn’t appear as if it someone had ever cleaned it. The stools lining the peninsula had a coat and a jacket hanging off it, a stack of books sat atop another, and a box for a pan set was on the third.

Jarrell bit his lip. He hoped the client had vinegar to clean the coffeemaker because Jarrell hadn’t brought any with him. He’d chalk it up to a lesson learned and start carrying a container in his bucket.

Beyond that was a hall. No lights were on, so Jarrell left whatever was back there for later. He feared the darkness. His anxiety peaked just from looking into the black abyss of the hallway.

“Hello. I’m inside your house, Mr. MacIver.”

Instead, he went to an ajar door just on the other side of the couch. He pushed it open to find a half clothed male laying catty wampus across it on his stomach.

Jarrell sucked in a breath and told himself he had to go to the man, make sure he was okay. But he couldn’t make his feet move. It was the broad, muscular shoulders and all that tan skin. Tattoos covered his arms from wrist to shoulder and across his back. From Jarrell’s vantage point in the doorway, he couldn’t make out much, but he pictured himself exploring all that artwork.

He had a scar on his lower back that ran across and under the waistband of his jeans. It made him seem more dangerous, which added to his appeal.

Jarrell shuddered and took a step inside. Some instinct kicked in, but he wasn’t sure what it meant. He ignored it as best as he could.

Jarrell poked the guy in the shoulder. “Hey. Are you okay?”

The guy mumbled and turned his head, so he faced Jarrell.

He had longer dark hair with a few gray strands mixed in and a beard. Blanket lines etched his cheek, and his skin had a rosiness from sleep.

“Mister.” Jarrell shook him a little.

The skin on his shoulder felt cold to the touch. He grabbed a blanket from a chair in the corner and covered him with it before backing out of the room.

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