Sunday Snog ~ Blue Moon by @MeganSlayer #SundaySnog


Find the other Sunday Snogs right here:

It’s Sunday Snog time again and I wanted to pull out one of my older and favorite titles, Blue Moon. Now before you ask, yes I did get an ear worm while writing this book. The song played so much. But it was also another stab (bad pun) at a ghost story. What if the ghost could come back? What if a deal with the devil was possible? Blue Moon is my way of finding out. Read on and enjoy the kiss!

Blue Moon by Megan Slayer BLUE

Part of the Scare This collection

MLR Press

M/M, Anal Sex, Masturbation

Contemporary, Paranormal, Ghosts

Short Story


The ghost at my door claims to be my ex-boyfriend, back from the dead. Yeah, right.

Ghosts don’t exist. I know they don’t. Why? I’ve never seen one. I’ve seen everything else—from Sasquatch to hell hounds and more…even vampires, but I’ve never laid eyes on a ghost.

Go figure. It’s Halloween. All sorts of stuff happens on the spookiest night of the year. There will be plenty of people out having a good time, scaring each other and begging for candy. They’ll try to get me involved, but I know better.

Have I mentioned I hate Halloween? Two years ago on October 31st, my world fell apart and I know it’ll never be fixed. No ghost can ease my broken heart and bring my boyfriend back to me. None.

Available here:

MLR Press:


AllRomance Ebooks:

Now for that snog…

©Megan Slayer, 2014, all rights reserved

“Let me show you just what you can handle.” Tristan bridged
the gap between them until their knees touched. He sat across
from Paul and curled his fingers under Paul’s chin. God, it felt
good to touch his lover again. He didn’t consider them former
lovers because he’d never fallen out of love with Paul and he
knew full well Paul hadn’t found another lover. He eased Paul’s
hands down and gazed into his eyes. The amber and brown flecks
glimmered in the light.
“A ghost can’t do this.” Tristan leaned forward until his
lips were a whisper away from Paul’s. “A ghost can’t kiss.” The
moment their mouths met, he rejoiced. He missed kissing Paul,
so much.
As quickly as he’d made the connection, Paul backed away
from him. He scrambled across the bed from Tristan and swatted
his forehead twice. “This is a dream. I’m imagining you. Please
wake up. I don’t want to hurt anymore. I’m tired and I miss you,
but I can’t keep imagining you. I can’t handle the pain. It’s too

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