Date Published: October 30, 2026
Publisher: Changeling Press
all unique and beautiful in their own way.
Adan, the fiery Spaniard, is a master of disguise. Barika, the dangerous
African Flower, can make any computer obey with a mere touch of a keyboard.
Shen, my delicate Chinese Warrior, speaks several languages fluently and knows
how to use his pretty face to get what he wants. Blain is my temperamental
Irish poet, with the soul of an artist, and the right cross of a heavyweight
champ. Nalu, a large chunk of Samoan perfection, knows anything and everything
about plants and poisons. Delsin has a way with numbers that is damn near
erotic to watch and an understanding of the world that makes me believe his
tales of being the offshoot of a rampaging Indian war-god. And then there’s
Raidon, my sexy Japanese Shogun. Skilled in several forms of martial arts,
Raidon is the smallest — and the most dangerous one of all.
Along with my lover Will, a hand model, we form the best detective agency
ever! We take on the most obscene and dangerous cases ever to develop in the
Red Light District of Baltimore. From cross-dressing vampires to dangerous
warrior cults, we’ve seen and done it all.
of the time, are my Angels. And here are our stories.
novels When Irish Eyes Are Dying, Sometimes I’m Not, and Savage.
Copyright ©2026 by Stephanie Burke
“This is the third such death in five months. Police are baffled as to who
could be doing this… and why. The Irish Eyes Conglomerate, producers of the
ever-popular line of skin care, hair care, and waxing products directed toward
men, is scrambling for answers, and its investors are scrambling to keep their
heads above water.
“This is Denise Robberston reporting live at the site of the Fifth Annual
Microbrewery Convention. Dick, back to you.”
Shelby used the remote to shut down the television and its disturbing imagery.
There was silence for a full minute after the screen went black — total
silence.
She turned to face the group of men sitting around the downstairs boardroom —
okay, living room — of Club Angels. All seven of her boys, plus her man, sat
with faces twisted in an array of emotions from shock to disgust.
“Well?” she asked, feeling that maybe something had gotten through to them,
that they were no longer wrapped up in their own petty concerns, realizing
there were things out there that mattered, and the world didn’t revolve around
them.
She stood back and waited to hear about the injustice of it all.
“Oh my God!” Delsin started, with a toss of his yards-long hair.
“I know!” Adan exclaimed, his voice breathy in horror as he stared wide-eyed
at the blank screen. One hand was balled in a fist pressing against his chest
while the other reached for Nalu, who was just shocked into silence. Like some
of the others, he stared out at nothing.
“Did you see?” Delsin whispered again, turning wide eyes to his compatriots.
“She was wearing red lipstick and blue eye shadow! Those color combinations
are so not in this year!” Adan said. “And they do nothing for her complexion,
like that burgundy shirt. You’d think that someone would have told her it
would make her look more ruddy than she already does!”
“And who styled her hair?” Raidon chimed in. “That just makes her look
bloated! If you’re heavy like that, you pick a haircut that doesn’t make you
look like a reject from parochial Samurai school in Neo Tokyo.”
The others — even William, usually uber-intelligent — for a model — nodded
in agreement. Of course, then he flushed in embarrassment as he took in the
red that had begun to stain Shelby’s cheeks.
“And that’s all that you got out of it?” Shelby nearly shouted, arms akimbo,
indignant that this group couldn’t pull it together and see the big picture.
“That and the co-announcer should be named dick-less,” Shen almost timidly
announced. All the others turned to stare at him as silence filled the room.
“What? I dated him before his male pattern baldness caught up to him — but
for the grace of the Lord we go.” All the men sucked in a fearful, shocked
breath that he would even mention that out loud. “And he got the bad toupee
and the cheesy voice. He’s every size queen’s nightmare.”
“And you still went out with him?” Adan leaned forward to get the good gossip.
He ignored the auburn-highlighted black curls that fell endearingly into his
face as his accent purred around the room, sending an erotic shiver down more
than one back.
“I don’t put out on the first or second dates,” Shen responded. “Besides, I
thought he was a grower, not a shower. Boy, was I wrong.”
They all ah-ed in understanding as Shelby finally reached her boiling point.
“Hello? Narcissi on speed? A man was killed! Now’s not the time to discuss
dick size! There’s murder afoot!”
“And his feet are big so there goes that foot-as-a-ruler thing.” Shen nodded
his head with authority before smiling up innocently at his benefactress.
“I need a drink!” Shelby sighed, looking toward the heavens for help as she
shook her head at the insanity that she willingly surrounded herself with.
“It’s not noon yet, Shelby,” William told her with a frown, taking her at her
word. “But I can make you an Irish coffee.” His smile was both innocent and
charming. “Coffee’s a morning kind of drink.”
“And it’s much later than that in Ireland!” Blain chimed in, all smiles and
helpfulness. “And there’s always a good reason for a shot of good Irish
hooch!” His accent made the words seem cute even though they were the most
idiotic thing she had ever heard.
“Don’t you people understand?” Shelby growled. “People have died!”
“I know!” Barika sighed, looking sad. “I don’t think anyone can recover from
such a bad public appearance. You’d think they would have dressers or someone
to help them out.”
“Too much alcohol.” Will’s mind was still on Irish coffee in the mornings, but
the others agreed.
“Turning into a lush can do that to you, make you forget your appearance and
things,” Shen agreed with Will, silently wondering how such an intelligent man
didn’t get wrinkles from thinking such deep thoughts. “It’s an angle we can
look into.” He smiled at Will. “An alcohol breakdown’s something you can
really never overcome. Even with the help of Betty Ford, your image would
be… irredeemable.”
Solemnly, the other seven nodded, then dropped their heads, giving the
fallen-from-grace reporters a moment of silence.
Giving up on trying to make them see her point of view, Shelby walked over to
the low coffee table and snatched up a file folder.
“Okay, Angels, listen up.” When you can’t beat them, move on, was her motto.
“There’s a mystery to solve, and we have been hired to crack this case.”
“Somebody hired us? After that Jacuzzi incident?” Will asked, shock in every
line of his body, as a fire suddenly lit in his eyes. Then his eyes narrowed
in suspicion. “Model or PI?”
“PI,” she assured, then sighed as several masculine exclamations of delight
floated around her, accompanied by hand slaps and high fives.
“And if we’re all finished celebrating, I think I should inform you of the
particulars.”
Suddenly, they were all business, attentive as a pack of puppies fresh from
obedience school.
Excellent.
“Okay, Angels, here are the facts. Irish Eyes stock’s going to start to
plummet, despite the fact that several important celebrities endorse them. The
scandal’s good for sales with the gory set, but we’re all sure that won’t
last. They need answers and they need them fast. That’s where we come in.”
“We get to sleuth?” Adan asked, almost wriggling in delight in his seat.
“We get to sleuth and model and crack this case. I’m sure you are all
qualified and we’ll wrap this up quickly.”
She smiled at the pride that beamed from her seven boys and one man. This was
a good thing she was doing. It was the right thing, giving them something
rewarding to do with their lives. And it was better than shaking their asses
and having drunken rowdy women shove dollars down their G-strings.
“Who does what?” Barika asked, placing a calming hand on Adan’s shoulder.
“Well, I have broken this down as I see fit. If there are any objections,
please let me know and we’ll discuss it. I’ll give you my reasoning as well.”
There were nods of agreement, and Shelby looked down at her file folder and
began to read.
“Adan, Blain, and Raidon, you will play model this trip. No fighting, Blain,
but feel free to defend any of the guys, not that they’ll need it. You fit the
traditional look they’re going for, and you have the accent.”
“I have the lilt in my voice and the face to pull it off.” He smiled. “Plus, I
really am Irish, Shelby! I’m authentic! Don’t be forgetting that!”
She nodded, then carried on. “Adan, you can be anything so be more European.
Foreign buyers relate to that and Americans find it sexy. Not only that, but
while Blain distracts them, you can ferret out inside info from the people
behind the scenes.”
“Right, Boss,” he agreed, already planning his persona for this job.
“Raidon, you’re going because you can kick ass and take names.” They all
laughed at that and a rare blush, a flush of delight, spread out over the
Japanese man’s face. “That, and I need you to back up the guys, to keep anyone
from getting too close, and see if you can use that brain of yours to find any
underworld connections.”
“Mafia, Yakuza, or Tong?” he asked. No one questioned how he would know. Hell,
Shelby wasn’t sure she wanted to know. But he was on their side, and that was
good enough for her.
“Any and all, and if there are organized, non-familial groups too. You’re good
at that sort of thing.”
“I’m great at that sort of thing,” he corrected, and it wasn’t bragging, it
was just the pure and honest truth.
“Barika, I want you on computers. I want you to dig up anything you can about
Irish Eyes and its parent company, Green Isles Industries. Make it thorough.”
“Give me time and I can tell you what color underwear the president wears and
his sperm count.”
“Um, do it fast and you can keep the sperm.”
“Good for the skin, ain’t that right, Shen?” he chuckled, and Shen blushed red
as a beet.
The rest groaned.
“Nalu, if I get you the autopsy reports, can you tell me what’s going on?”
Shelby continued.
“Yes.” Then he was off in his own little world again, probably dancing with
dolphins or something.
“Delsin and Shen, you guys are backup. I want you to be communications for the
inside guys — be boyfriends, best friends, makeup people, entourage, or
something. But you’ll be the only connection between them and me and any help
they may need. I’m counting on you two.”
“Do we get that neat spy stuff that William’s always buying and refusing to
let us touch?” Rika asked, his eyes bright and hopeful.
“Um, yeah!” Shelby laughed as William paled.
“But those are my babies,” Will nearly whimpered, thinking of his precious
electronic devices in the hands of those two.
“And they’re designed to do a specific job, babes.” Shelby chuckled. “I’m sure
these guys will take good care of them.”
“They’d better,” Will whined, resigned. “Because if they don’t, I’ll add
alcohol to their skin creams and piss in their hair tonics.”
They all blanched at that declaration.
“We’ll be good,” Delsin promised, eyes wide in horror. “Scout’s honor.”
“You were never a scout,” Rika snorted as he rose to his feet, smoothing his
dreads neatly back into his ponytail.
“Only because they wanted me to cut my hair.” He sniffed. “I don’t know why I
wanted to join. Those uniforms are so tacky.”
Then the conversation turned toward uniforms, men in uniforms, and how
terribly gay the new Marines’ uniforms were — in short, another beautiful day
in the basement.
“What have I gotten myself into?” Shelby sighed, then grinned as Will
presented her with a steaming hot mug of… Irish coffee.
She hadn’t even noticed him leave the room to fetch it. But she smiled as she
took a sip.
He was good, in more ways than one, she decided. She licked a bit of whipped
cream from her upper lip and smiled as he shot her an evil smirk. He was damn
good.
And he had trained the boys, so all would be well. What could possibly go
wrong?
Stephanie is a USA Today Best Selling, multi published, multi award-winning
author, Master Costumer, handicapped, wife and mother of two.
From sex-shifting, shape-shifting dragons to undersea worlds, sexually
confused elemental Fey and homo-erotic mysteries, all the way to
pastel-challenged urban sprites, Stephanie has done it all, and hopes to do
more.
Stephanie is an orator on her favorite subjects of writing and world-building,
a sometime teacher when you feed her enough tea and donuts, an anime nut, a
costumer, and a frequent guest of various sci-fi and writing cons where she
can be found leading panel discussions or researching varied legends and
theories to improve her writing skills.
Stephanie is known for her love of the outrageous, strong female characters,
believable worlds, male characters filled with depth, and multi-cultural
stories that make the reader sit up and take notice.
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