Aug 01

Release Day Blitz: Trust with a Chaser by Annabeth Albert (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Trust with a Chaser

Series: Rainbow Cove, Book 1

Author: Annabeth Albert

Publisher:  Annabeth Albert

Release Date: 08-01-2017

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 75,000

Genre: Romance, Contemporary, Law Enforcement, Small Town, May/December

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Synopsis

One hot cop. One bar owner out for redemption. One smoking-hot summer fling destined to leave scorch marks…

Mason Hanks has returned to Rainbow Cove, Oregon with one goal in mind: turn the struggling coastal community into a thriving LGBTQ tourism destination. Step one is transforming an old bar and grill into a gay-friendly eatery. Step two? Don’t piss off Nash Flint, the very hot, very stern chief of police who’s not so sure he’s on board with Mason’s big plans.

Nash Flint just wants to keep his community safe and enjoy the occasional burger in peace. He’s not big on change nor is he a fan of Mason’s troublemaking family, especially his rowdy older brothers. But Mason slowly wins him over with fantastic cooking and the sort of friendship Nash has been starving for.

When their unlikely friendship takes a turn for the sexy, both men try to steer clear of trouble. Nash believes he’s too set in his ways for Mason, and Mason worries that his family’s reputation will ruin any future with Nash. Burning up the sheets in secret is a surefire way to crash and burn, and discovery forces a heart-wrenching decision—is love worth the risk of losing everything?

Trust with a Chaser is a 75,000 word stand-alone gay romance with a May/December theme, a hot law-enforcement hero, opposites attract, plenty of sexy times, and one hard-fought, guaranteed happy ending with no cliffhangers.

Excerpt

Chapter One

Mason

When Adam stepped inside the glorified closet I was using as an office, eyes all twitchy and hands wringing a bar towel, I knew I wasn’t going to like what came out of his mouth.

“Sheriff Sexy just walked in. He’s your problem.”

Fuck. I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath. “Please don’t call Police Chief Flint that. He might hear, and I’m pretty sure he’d find a citation for you. And I am not bailing your ass out.”

“You’re just worried that one of these days you’re going to slip up and call him that.” Adam grinned at me. This was an old argument—he’d been calling Flint that stupid nickname since we were in high school. The hard-nosed cop wasn’t one to cut teen drivers any slack—especially if they were in any way associated with the name “Hanks.” “Anyway, you know he freaks me out. I’ve got no idea what he wants—all our permits are in order, right?”

“Of course.” Standing, I grabbed the folder with the permitting paperwork. I prided myself in the organization I was bringing to the bar and grill that I co-owned with Adam and our friend, Logan. Flint wouldn’t find anything to complain about, not with me in charge. “I’ll go deal with him. You go back to the bar in case we get a rush.”

Adam snorted. Despite it being opening weekend, traffic had been embarrassingly light. We’d worked for weeks transforming the old tavern—a Rainbow Cove institution for decades—into the newly renamed Rainbow Tavern. The gay-friendly bar and grill was our vision for pulling our sleepy little coastal town into the twenty-first century. Logan had crafted a new menu of upscale bar food ready to go, and Adam had innovative drinks specials at the ready. All we needed were customers. And to not run afoul of Nash Flint on our first day of operation.

Flint was a Rainbow Cove institution himself—born and raised here, same as Adam and me, but unlike me, he’d never left, sliding into his father’s shoes as police chief and apparently fitting the role as easily as a pair of broken-in jeans. He’d been Officer Flint last time I’d seen him, almost ten years prior.

Guess I could have seen him had I come down for Freddy’s trial, something I still felt niggles of guilt over, and I told myself that was why my stomach fluttered on my way out to the tavern’s dining room. Unlike Adam, I’d never found Flint particularly…

Sexy. All my thoughts fled as I took in the man sitting in front of the plate-glass window. He dwarfed the small wooden chair, one of dozens that Adam and I had painted bright colors. Broad shoulders stretched the confines of his uniform shirt, biceps bulging under the short sleeves. His cut-glass jaw was firm as ever, as were those hard hazel eyes. But what had been frankly terrifying to my teenaged self made my twenty-seven-year-old libido sit up and take serious notice.

Flint blinked as I approached, head tilting to one side. I’d been getting a lot of that since I’d been back in town. “Mason…Hanks?”

“The one and only.” I stuck out my hand. “What can I do for you, Chief Flint?”

He returned my handshake with a sure grip, only a moment’s hesitation. I guessed he wasn’t all that used to shaking hands with a Hanks. Oh well. I was out to prove to the whole damn town that I wasn’t like my father and brothers, and if I had to start with Flint, so be it.

“Nice place you’ve got here.” His eyes swept around the renovated room—restored antique bar on the far wall where Adam wasn’t bothering to conceal his nosiness, dance floor beyond that, colorful tables and chairs in the front of the bar, only a handful occupied despite the dinner hour.

“Thanks. Our permits are all in order.” I held out my folder. “Liquor license is on top.”

He waved the folder off. “Not worried about that.”

No? Then why the heck was Flint in my establishment? “Good. We’re on the up-and-up. You won’t have trouble from us—”

“Glad to hear it,” he said levelly, eyes skeptical, reminding me that I was, after all, nothing more than a Hanks. “Cheeseburger?”

“Pardon?”

“That Ringer kid didn’t see fit to give me a menu, but I’m trusting you all offer something approximating a burger? Salad, no fries, and an iced tea.”

“You want to order?” I was still struggling to keep up with him.

“This is a food establishment, right?” He shook his head as if he hadn’t expected more from me, and that rankled.

“Of course.” I crossed the room in long strides, grabbed an order pad from the bar, ignoring Adam’s gaping. As soon as I returned to Flint’s table, I added, “Anything you want. On the house.”

“None of that.” He sighed like my very existence was tiring. “Got my meals from the old tavern for years. They kept a tab open for me.”

“We can do the same—”

“Let’s see if you can cook first,” he said, voice drier than yesterday’s toast. “I thought I’d come by, check the place out.”

“Appreciated,” I said and meant it. Business, any business, was good, but people in Rainbow Cove trusted Flint. If he gave us the seal of approval, more locals might give us a try, make us less dependent on the tourist trade that we were going after. Tourism took a while to build, and our grand plans of making Rainbow Cove an LGBTQ travel destination weren’t going to happen overnight. We needed every customer we could get, Flint included, even if he was the unlikeliest of allies.

“You still haven’t brought me a menu.” He shook his head. “But whatever you’ve got passing for a burger is fine. Nothing vegan though.”

“We’ve got local grass-fed beef, third-pound patty on a brioche bun with a pesto mayo and local gouda. Or—”

“I reckon that will do fine.” Flint always had a bit more country than coastal in his voice. Not Southern, but you could tell he was rural Oregon through and through, and I liked the slow, deep rumble of his words. What I didn’t like, however, was the implication in his tone that he wasn’t expecting much from us.

“Sure you don’t want fries? We have hand-cut sweet potato as an option with a chipotle dipping sauce. As far as salads, I’ve got side, Caesar, spring berry and pecan—”

“I’m on duty here. Kind of pressed for time. The burger and a side salad are fine. I don’t need anything fancy.”

Yeah, well, maybe I want to give it to you. I quashed that thought, same as I had the one about how hot he looked in his uniform. Wanting to impress Nash Flint wasn’t going to get me anywhere.

“I’ll put a rush on it.” I made a note on the order pad, not that it was really needed since Logan hardly had a packed house to worry about.

As I walked over to the window to put in Flint’s order, I noticed more than one table giving him curious glances. Hell, maybe I was wrong about any business being good business. Last thing I needed was Flint scaring away what few customers we had. Not that he was known as a gossip or anything like that, but he was awfully…old school. Traditional. The last kind of guy you’d expect to find at a gay bar, that was for sure, and even though we were attempting to attract a mixed clientele, he stood out.

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Meet the Author

Annabeth Albert grew up sneaking romance novels under the bed covers. Now, she devours all subgenres of romance out in the open—no flashlights required! When she’s not adding to her keeper shelf, she’s a multi-published Pacific Northwest romance writer.

Emotionally complex, sexy, and funny stories are her favorites both to read and to write. Annabeth loves finding happy endings for a variety of pairings and is a passionate gay rights supporter. In between searching out dark heroes to redeem, she works a rewarding day job and wrangles two children.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Instagram

Annabeth’s Angels Facebook Group | Annabeth’s Mailing List

 

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Jul 31

Blog Tour: Into the Mystic by Brooklyn Ray. J.C. Long, Kara Race-Moore, Samantha Kate, Nicole Field, J.P. Jackson, Caitlin Ricci, L.J. Hamlin, Kayla Bashe, Charli Coty, Tay LaRoi (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Into the Mystic

Series: Volume One

Author: Brooklyn Ray. J.C. Long, Kara Race-Moore, Samantha Kate, Nicole Field, J.P. Jackson, Caitlin Ricci, L.J. Hamlin, Kayla Bashe, Charli Coty, Tay LaRoi

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 7/31/17

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 101100

Genre: Paranormal, paranormal, witches, werewolves, lesbian, bisexual, mermaids, fae, zombies, shifters

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Synopsis

Eleven lesbian/bisexual paranormal short stories…

Reborn by Brooklyn Ray – Dark magic, mystical bloodlines, a living forest, and two women fighting to reclaim a love they lost.

Zero Hour by J.C. Long – She can’t outrun the full moon.

Dove in the Window by Kara Race-Moore – As if the Great Depression wasn’t bad enough, Cissy’s first love is back from the dead.

Bottom of the River by Samantha Kate – The demon isn’t always the monster.

If You Want to Walk by Nicole Field – Follow Chess into the Underneath and meet the strange creatures she finds there.

A Tended Garden by J.P. Jackson – Immortality or humanity—which one will win out in the end?

Romancing the Healer by Caitlin Ricci – In a deadly snowstorm a werewolf needs all the help she can get, and the werebear coming to her aid is more than she appears to be.

Midnight Kisses by L.J. Hamlin – A local witch, a new-to-town werewolf, and a mystery to be solved.

Like a Bell through the Night by Kayla Bashe – Guarding a faerie princess? All in a day’s work for a werewolf bodyguard. Avoiding falling in love with said princess? The hardest mission of Jaffa’s life.

The Imp in the Rock by Charli Coty – The cure for a bad breakup might be magic.

Smile Like You Mean It by Tay LaRoi – Ingrid meets a terrifying Japanese legend, but the stories are all wrong.

Excerpt

Reborn by Brooklyn Ray

Thalia Darbonne left Port Lewis three years ago with no intention of returning. Despite being a powerful witch, she’s now known as a deserter – an outcast in the magical society. But after her mother’s untimely death, Thalia is called back to her hometown in order to fulfill her duty as matriarch, and take the place as head witch of the Darbonne Clan.

Being back home isn’t easy, especially when Thalia is confronted by a ghost from her past, the beautiful, dangerous necromancer, Jordan Wolfe.

As Thalia tries to cope with the loss of her mother, she’s also faced with her feelings for Jordan, the responsibility of becoming matriarch, and the strange, dark magic lingering between her and her first love. Thalia and Jordan fight through three years of confusion in the forest they grew up in, where trees whisper, the night sky bleeds, and sigils are carved into flesh.

Zero Hour by J.C. Long

After being bitten by her long-time girlfriend Robbin in werewolf form, Simone does the only thing she can think to do—she gets in her car and drives as far away as she can. As the first full moon since she was bitten approaches, Simone is faced with a difficult choice: does she trust Robbin, who wishes to guide her through her first transformation, after being hurt by her? And more importantly, with the full moon drawing near, does she really have a choice?

Dove in the Window by Kara Race-Moore

In 1930’s Appalachia, Cissy McGurk is still mourning the death of Pearl, her first love. However, Pearl shows up one night and crawls into bed with her, bemoaning that she can’t sleep. More and more people from the local cemetery are crawling from their graves because something won’t let them rest. Cissy has to find out how to fix it, even if that means asking Death himself for advice.

Bottom of the River by Samantha Kate

Anja Bauer is the daughter of rich but cruel parents who care little about her happiness. Despite her revulsion toward men, they plan to marry her off to a faraway suitor. But Anja’s discovers a contract they signed with the demon they’d warned her about, and she learns the true extent of their wickedness and the reality of the demon.

If You Want to Walk by Nicole Field

Chess runs into the world of the Fae to try to escape her depression, only to find it comes there with her. When she finds her way back, she knows she will have to leave many things behind. Is leaving worth that price?

A Tended Garden by J.P Jackson

Alyssa is a natural witch whose thoughts have a way of coming true. Her coven is the only one around—well, the only one she’ll practice her beliefs with – but her high priestess, Rachel, is particularly difficult to please.

Rachel has a secret she hasn’t told anyone in her coven—one that her ancestral witches before her kept from their covens too. If Rachel’s to hold on to her traditions and the immortality she’s been promised, she’ll have to keep the women in her coven returning to the sacred grove, and that includes Alyssa.

But secrets have a way of being revealed, and when Alyssa stumbles across Rachel’s violent and horrifying history with the trees of the grove, the pact between the sacred grove and Rachel’s family may have a price too steep to pay.

Romancing the Healer by Caitlin Ricci

When she takes too long to come back to her pack, Aria is caught up in a snowstorm. To make matters worse, she’s twisted her ankle while running. Hurt, freezing, and alone, her best chance for survival is to stay under an evergreen until the storm clears then try to limp back to her pack. Zoe has a better idea. She’s a healer without a pack to call her own, although she’s desperate for the kind of family Aria has with hers. Being trans, Zoe has never felt all that welcome with other shifters, but Aria promises to show her that there is at least one pack who would gladly have her. All they have to do is wait out the storm together.

Midnight Kisses by L.J. Hamlin

A night out in a bar before a big council meeting to relax seems like a good idea, talking to the cute werewolf at the bar seems like a better idea. But when they meet again will sparks get in the way.

Like a Bell through the Night by Kayla Bashe

Rhiannon, faerie princess in exile, has been on the run for her entire life. Hunted by her most dangerous enemy yet, she turns to her childhood crush for help: immortal, smolderingly sexy werewolf Jaffa Volkovitch.

Jaffa’s scars and secrets haunt her, and she doesn’t let anyone get close. She remembers Rhiannon as an optimistic child… not an alluring, resilient young woman whose every touch awakens forgotten feelings. Keeping up her emotional barriers could mean breaking Rhiannon’s heart. What will Jaffa decide?

The Imp in the Rock by Charli Coty

Wendi Tamura turns to her favorite beach to calm her jangled nerves after she’s dumped by her cheating boyfriend. The water near her home on the Oregon Coast is never warm, and no place for a nude woman, so when one appears before her seemingly by magic, Wendi offers her help. It’s been years since she’s been with a woman, but when the beautiful Hanako reveals her true nature, Wendi doesn’t let either detail keep her from the most magical and steamy night she’s ever had.

Smile Like You Mean It by Tay LaRoi

Ingrid Smith, a young American living in Sendai, meets the cursed Slit-Mouthed Woman of Japanese folklore and does her best to rid herself of the woman. When a conflict reveals that Ayame isn’t as terrible as her legend says, she’s embarrassed by the truth and vows to haunt Ingrid until they can figure out how to lift the curse. For weeks Ingrid tries to lift Ayame’s curse, but with each passing day, she’s not sure she wants to.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Tour Schedule

7/31    Boy Meets Boy Reviews        

7/31    Books,Dreams,Life     

8/1      MM Good Book Reviews       

8/1      MillsyLovesBooks      

8/2      Wicked Faerie’s Tales and Reviews  

8/2      Love Bytes      

8/3      A. O. Chika Book Blog

8/3      Divine Magazine        

8/3      Happily Ever Chapter

8/4      Nicole’s Book Musings          

8/4      A Book Lover’s Dream Book Blog      

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Jul 31

Release Blitz: One Plus One by P.A. Friday (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  One Plus One

Series: Maths, Book Two

Author: P.A. Friday

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 7/31/17

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 40400

Genre: Contemporary, gay, bi, age gap, friends to lovers, grief, slow burn

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Synopsis

James Cape has been in love with his mother’s best friend Laurie since James was sixteen and Laurie an inaccessible twenty-six. When he’s turned down flat by the older man just after his nineteenth birthday, James’s best friend Al encourages him to forget Laurie and find someone else. And James tries, he really does. But can he cope with his feelings for Laurie, his best friend’s home-life problems, and the deteriorating health of his father, all at the same time? And will Laurie ever notice the young man who’s right in front of him?

Excerpt

One Plus One
P.A. Friday © 2017
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One

James Cape was fourteen years old when he realised he was gay, fifteen when he came out to his best friend, and sixteen when he realised how he’d recognised he was gay in the first place. He’d thought he’d ‘just known’ until his mother’s friend Laurie came over one day with his new boyfriend, Kieran—the first boyfriend he’d ever bothered bringing round—and James had felt his heart explode with jealousy and rage. Kieran couldn’t have Laurie. Laurie belonged with him.

The longed-for relationship wasn’t—quite—as inappropriate as it might have sounded. Laurie was his mother’s friend, yes, but he wasn’t his mother’s age. Gillie, James’s mum, was thirty-nine; Laurie, twenty-six. They’d met online when James was about nine and had made friends over the next year, despite the age gap. When Gillie had discovered that Laurie was a student at the university she herself taught at, she’d invited him over, and he’d become a regular visitor. To start with, James hadn’t been much interested—the gap between ten years old and twenty was a big one, and James had been more interested in playing with Al, his best friend both then and now. Between them, the pair had teased and hassled and joked around with Laurie, treating him as something between a friend and an older brother; but as the years had passed, James’s feelings towards Laurie had changed. He just hadn’t realised quite how much they had changed until Laurie turned up with Kieran by his side.

It wasn’t as if Laurie had never had boyfriends in the past. He had. But he’d never brought them over to James’s house before, and that made all the difference. When Laurie had been at James’s house, he hadn’t belonged to anyone else. He’d been theirs. With Kieran there, the dynamic was different—spoilt. Al, also over for the weekend—as usual—cocked a knowing eyebrow at James’s moodiness and dragged him out for a long walk.

“You don’t like the boyfriend,” Al said when they were in the woods and miles from anywhere. Trust Al to get straight to the point.

James shrugged. “Bit of a wanker, that’s all. Laurie could do better.”

“Mm.” Al didn’t sound convinced. “D’you remember telling me that you weren’t interested in Laura Fielding because Mary MacDonald had bigger tits?”

“What?” James looked at his best mate in bewilderment. “That was nearly two years ago. Why are you bringing that up again?”

“You weren’t interested in Laura Fielding because she was a girl, and you weren’t interested in girls,” Al said bluntly. “By the way, I’m still pissed off it took you nearly a year to tell me you were gay. You can’t have thought I’d give a toss.”

“You’re still the only person who knows,” James pointed out.

James and Al’s school was not the sort of place where it was safe to be ‘out’. James had no intention of telling anyone else about his sexuality until he’d left. Telling Al was different—Al was Al. And he was quite right; James knew he could tell Al anything and Al wouldn’t care. You could say what you liked about Al—and most people did—but he was intensely loyal. To James, at any rate. When it came to relationships, it was a different matter. Unlike James, Al liked girls and had a steady stream of girlfriends, but none of them lasted longer than a month before he got itchy. Usually it was considerably shorter.

“They get so clingy,” Al had complained. “They want stuff.”

“That’s called dating,” James had told him unsympathetically.

He was amazed anyone still agreed to go out with Al, but there was something about his best friend. He had a strange sort of manic charm, and his very unpredictability seemed to draw people in. However, that was a different matter. Why Al had gone back to harping about old news, James couldn’t imagine.

“Thing is,” Al said, scuffing the last of the autumn leaves with his shoe—the woods didn’t seem to have cottoned on to the fact that it was March, “it didn’t have anything to do with Mary MacDonald.”

“Al, you’ve lost me.”

Al—so very like James to look at in some ways: dark-haired, regular features, similar body shape, albeit several inches shorter—looked seriously at his friend.

“It’s not Kieran you don’t like,” he said. “It’s Laurie having a boyfriend.”

“He’s had boyfriends before,” James said defensively.

“Ah. Hasn’t brought them home, though, has he? Different thing altogether.”

James shrugged petulantly. “I just think Kieran’s an idiot, that’s all.”

Al knew when to stop—usually. “Whatever you say, mate. Just…don’t piss Laurie off by being too rude to his guy, you know? Probably a bad plan.”

Which, as James admitted and worked by, was a sensible idea. But when Laurie turned up a fortnight later alone, James couldn’t help his heart lifting.

“No Kieran?” he asked, hoping Laurie would say that they’d broken up.

Laurie gave him a lazy smile. “No, not this time. I wanted you lot to myself. Any objections?”

“Nope.”

The weather was nice, and they were all sitting out in the garden, drinking beer. James and Al—who spent considerably more weekends at James’s house than at his own, to the point that Gillie and Terry, James’s dad, had assigned the spare bedroom as belonging to him—had been told that one was their limit, to Al’s laughing protest. James had his guitar out and was strumming it from time to time. He had a passion for music and already knew that he wanted to study it at university; it was just a case of getting through GCSEs (now only a few months away) and A levels first. Al was more interested in drama and films, which gave him something in common with Laurie, who was currently working on a PhD in Film Studies, focusing on bringing books to life as films, with particular emphasis on the Lord of the Rings trilogy. The trilogy was special in another way—Gillie and Laurie had met via an online discussion board about the films and had found they got on well, moving from there to talking about everything under the sun. “And some things not under it,” Gillie usually added at this point, as science fiction and astrophysics had also been discussed. James joked that his mum was a science geek on the quiet.

“Just surprised you could bear to be parted from him,” Al added cheekily.

Laurie took a gulp of beer and shook his head sadly at Al. “We’re twenty-six, not sixteen, Al. We can manage to be parted for an entire afternoon without dying of angst. You might be like that, but we’re not.”

James snorted. “Al? Seriously? God knows why he has girlfriends because he seems to spend all his time hiding from them once he’s dating them.”

“An interesting approach.”

“I like snogging them and suchlike,” Al said cheerfully. “It’s just the rest of it which is a bother. Is it like that with you, Laurie, then? You’ve only got your bloke for the snogging? And the suchlike,” he added thoughtfully.

James tried not to blush at the thought of Laurie doing ‘the suchlike’ with Kieran. It seemed Laurie was having a similar problem as he choked back a laugh.

“I can’t say I object to that side of things, but no, there’s a little more to it than that, thanks.”

“Al, are you teasing Laurie again?” Gillie called from where she was chatting animatedly with James’s dad. Terry was having a good day today; the wheelchair was at the side of the garden, and he was managing to potter round to check on his vegetables with just the aid of a stick. James was pleased—his dad had had too few good days recently. Multiple Sclerosis was a bugger. “I’ll have to get you a muzzle.”

“Just showing a friendly interest,” Al said, blinking would-be innocent green eyes at his friend’s mother, who unfortunately for him knew quite how much to trust that particular look.

“That’s what they’re calling it nowadays, is it?” Laurie riposted, and James and Gillie both laughed. Laurie smiled at James. “So, what are you up to, James? Apart from studying for GCSEs, that is.”

James rolled his eyes dramatically, though he was secretly pleased that Laurie cared enough to ask. “Nothing, really. Study, study, study.”

“Liar,” Al said mildly. “You spend all your time with that guitar. I reckon I’m losing my place as your best mate to that thing.” He looked across at Laurie. “I think he goes to bed with it, you know. A love affair like no other.”

“Oh, shut it, you,” James said, taking one hand off the precious guitar to give his friend a shove. “Anyway, I’m working on my composition, so it’s not like it’s not work.”

“The best sort of work is work you actually enjoy,” Laurie commented. “Al’s clearly just jealous. But you’re still loving the guitar as much as ever then.”

“God, yeah,” James said fervently. “It’s like… I dunno. It feels right, somehow—do you know what I mean? When I’m playing, it’s like my fingers know what they should be doing. Bit like Dad and the garden, I guess. He just seems to know what to plant where and what to do to make things grow, and I’m hopeless. But my teacher shows me things on the guitar, and it makes sense.” He flushed, embarrassed. Trying to explain how he felt about his instrument made him self-conscious. Al hadn’t laughed at him, as he’d feared, when he’d said a bit about it to him—but then Al was his best mate. Laurie was…well, something different. And if Laurie laughed or teased, James didn’t think he’d cope.

“That’s brilliant,” Laurie said, though, his expression genuinely delighted. “It sounds like you’ve found what’s right for you, and there’s nothing like that feeling. Trust me, I know.”

Al ruffled James’s hair. “See, it turns out you’re not a weirdo. You’re talented. Bastard,” he added, laughing.

James was grateful for Al’s interjection. It stopped the conversation getting too heavy. Talking with Laurie like this, after realising just how he felt about him…it was almost too much, in some ways.

“I wish,” he said instead. “Just obsessed.”

“Obsession got me a long way,” Laurie assured him, looking around the garden with an expression of affection on his face. “My obsession with Lord of the Rings, for example, found me my best friend—and her family,” he added, smiling at James, “and now my PhD. Don’t knock obsession.”

“I’ll bear it in mind,” James said, smiling back. “Speaking of which, how’s the thesis going?”

Laurie sighed. “Well, it’s going. I just had my last chapter ripped to shreds by my supervisor, but that’s pretty much always the way. Apparently, this time, I’ve put in too many examples. Last chapter, it wasn’t enough.”

“Still searching for the pleased psychic?” James teased.

It was a long-time joke between them: at twelve, hearing the phrase “happy medium” for the first time, James had been merely bewildered, his mind quite seriously running on the idea of the paranormal. Laurie had patiently explained and had the courtesy not even to crack a smile as he did so, though they’d all laughed about it since—and the alternative term had become a standing gag.

Laurie laughed. “Apparently so. The annoying thing is my supervisor is always right. I went away and looked back through what I’d written, and every third line was an example. But still. On the plus side, I’ve had an article accepted by a journal this week.”

“Really?” Gillie, who had wandered back to the table whilst James and Laurie chatted, settled herself comfortably in a chair and leaned across. “Which one? That’s fabulous!”

Gillie was an academic herself, lecturing in English Literature, with a special interest in fantasy and science fiction, hence the shared love of the Lord of the Rings in both book and film version. The conversation got a bit technical for a while; James tuned out as phrases such as ‘peer reviewed’ and ‘on the e-library catalogue’ got thrown about. He concentrated instead on his guitar. He was writing a piece for his GCSE composition, and there were a few bars he wasn’t happy about.

Once he settled down to music, he was lost to the world and barely noticed as Al wandered off, only registering when Al shouted, “Oh, hey, there’s a bird stuck in the netting here.”

“What?” demanded Terry, fired to interest as James put down his guitar to look over towards where Al was standing. “Are they after my brassicas again? I knew I was right to put those nets up.”

“Its wing’s all caught up, poor thing,” Al said, trying to get closer to it and making the bird flap more wildly.

“Serve it right,” said Terry firmly. Easy-going about most things, James’s dad was undeniably overprotective when it came to his vegetables.

Laurie got to his feet and cast a laughing glance at Terry. “Probably so, but we can’t just leave it there. Here, Al, move back a bit. I’ll have a go.”

“You?” Al looked at him doubtfully. “Aren’t you a bit…big?”

Laurie stood a couple of inches over six feet and was broad-shouldered with it. Compared to Al, who was a skinny five foot six and impatiently hoping for a growth spurt which showed no sign of coming, he was definitely sizeable. And, James thought wistfully, bloody gorgeous, with his muscular physique and lazy, lopsided smile.

“Oh ye of little faith,” Laurie said genially.

James watched as Laurie went carefully and quietly over to the bird, murmuring to it in an undertone. It still flapped and tried to escape, but not as manically as it had done for Al. Laurie caught it up in big gentle hands, stilling its movements with ease with one hand as he untangled the netting with the other one. It was less than a minute until he had freed the bird, which looked dazed and scurried into the undergrowth, leaving a couple of fawn-coloured feathers behind it.

“Collared dove,” Terry said. “They’re the worst. Still, I suppose you’re right. Couldn’t have left the little bugger there. Thanks, Laurie.”

Gillie went over and gave Laurie a kiss. “My hero,” she said. “Well done.”

Laurie turned to Al. “Too big?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Al threw his arms up in a dramatic display of defeat. “I admit it. I was wrong. Apparently not too big at all. Having enormous hands is a great thing for rescuing small fragile creatures. Who’d have thought?”

Only James said nothing. He hated the way it had made him feel, watching Laurie concentrate so carefully on the bird. All fluttery inside, like a girl or something. Wondering what it might feel like if Laurie put those hands against him. He blinked and looked away, back at his guitar, back at anything else, and the moment passed. It didn’t help him get over his crush on Laurie, though—anything but.

Still, in retrospect, that had been the best afternoon of the entire year when it came to Laurie. Most of the other occasions on which he visited, he did indeed bring Kieran. James reluctantly had to admit to himself that there was nothing intrinsically wrong with the other man except the sin that he was Laurie’s boyfriend, and James was insanely jealous.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author

P.A. Friday fails dismally to write one sort of thing and, when not writing erotica and erotic romance of all sexualities, may be found writing articles on the Regency period, pagan poetry, or science fiction. She loves wine and red peppers, and loathes coffee and mushrooms.

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Jul 31

Blog Tour: Teresias Bound By Rebecca James (Guest Posts & Giveaway)

Title:  Teresias Bound

Author: Rebecca James

Publisher:  Rebecca James

Release Date: July 29

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: approximately 81k

Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Science Fiction, mpreg

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Synopsis

Aiden is a man in a woman’s body. His dream is to fly to Aquarix where the elusive Fluens–the only species capable of changing his life record and physically making him a man–reside, and for years he’s been working at a seedy brothel in Solarias to save enough money to make that dream a reality.


Lydo, the prince of Teresias, has spent his youth leading his father’s army and avoiding his responsibilities on his home planet. On brief leave during a dangerous mission, he stops at a brothel and acquires the services of a feisty young prostitute who insists Lydo refer to her as a boy. Amused by the girl, the prince pays her way to Aquarix.


Aiden is euphoric at his transformation, but Lydo is more than a little disconcerted by the fact he is attracted to Aiden as a man.
When it’s time to part ways, Aiden fulfills his second dream by taking a job on a spaceship. Resigned to step into his expected role on Teresias, the prince returns to his homophobic planet. But as the king parades princesses before his son in hopes of a betrothal, Lydo finds his heart remains with a certain adventurous boy somewhere out in space.

Excerpt

“Good to know now you’re not a man of your word, before I start to trust you in any way,” Lydo said, face tight.

Aiden feigned ignorance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We had a deal.”

Aiden crossed his arms over his chest, still a little surprised at the feel of the taut, muscular pectorals rather than the soft breasts he’d lived with for so long. “You never believed me in the first place.”

Lydo bent close to Aiden’s face, and Aiden straightened his spine, refusing to be cowed. Tilting his head back, he looked at the big man face-to-face, heart rocketing into overdrive on multiple levels. Lydo was threatening, sexy, and unreadable, and if Aiden wasn’t careful, he was going to do something incredibly stupid like allow his crush to deepen into something much more dangerous.

“Are you able to get me out of here?” Lydo’s warm breath brushed Aiden’s face. “Or was it all a lie to get into my pants?”

“Answer me.”

Aiden sighed. “I could do it. The question is, is leaving what you really should do?” He put his hand on Lydo’s arm and touched the corded muscle of bulging bicep before snatching his fingers away again.

“There’s so much you could do here if you ruled as king. You saw those people, Lydo. The Konnics. They live a miserable existence on a barren wasteland because they have no other choice. If you were king, you could fix all that.”

Lydo’s eyes burned into Aiden’s for a long moment before the prince stepped away, putting some space between them. Inwardly, Aiden sagged with relief.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lydo grumbled.

Aiden considered that perhaps Lydo didn’t have it in him to be a good ruler. Remembering the sharp disappointment not an hour earlier when he’d realized it wasn’t Lydo giving him pleasure, followed by the twist of the knife when the Pusari female reported Lydo had been the one to send her, Aiden reminded himself only an acute sense of self-preservation had gotten him this far in life, and right then that sense was flashing a red light of warning.

Aiden’s desire for Lydo was blooming into something that threatened to throw him off course. The demanding, arrogant man who had come into the brothel had turned out to be more complicated than Aiden had at first thought. After managing to crawl beneath Aiden’s defenses, Lydo continually ran hot and cold. He seemed perfectly willing to give his body in payment for the favor he desired, yet he obviously had a problem with the concept of sleeping with a man.

Available at Amazon

Meet the Author

Best-selling author of contemporary and paranormal gay romance, Rebecca James is an English major with a life-long love of reading and writing who found her niche in M/M romance.Rebecca will be a supporting author at GayRomList 2017 this October in Denver.  Let her know if you’ll be there and if you’re one of her newsletter subscribers, she’ll have a special gift set aside for you!

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | eMail | Amazon | Newsletter

Check out Rebecca’s River Wolf Pack Series!

Tour Schedule

7/31    Erotica For All

8/1      Love Bytes

8/2      Bayou Book Junkie

8/3      A Book Lover’s Dream Book Blog

8/3      Stories That Make You Smile

8/4      Bonkers about books

8/4      The Novel Approach

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Jul 28

Blog Tour: Teresias Bound by Rebecca James (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Teresias Bound

Author: Rebecca James

Publisher:  Rebecca James

Release Date: July 29

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: approximately 81k

Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Science Fiction, mpreg

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

Aiden is a man in a woman’s body. His dream is to fly to Aquarix where the elusive Fluens–the only species capable of changing his life record and physically making him a man–reside, and for years he’s been working at a seedy brothel in Solarias to save enough money to make that dream a reality.


Lydo, the prince of Teresias, has spent his youth leading his father’s army and avoiding his responsibilities on his home planet. On brief leave during a dangerous mission, he stops at a brothel and acquires the services of a feisty young prostitute who insists Lydo refer to her as a boy. Amused by the girl, the prince pays her way to Aquarix.


Aiden is euphoric at his transformation, but Lydo is more than a little disconcerted by the fact he is attracted to Aiden as a man.
When it’s time to part ways, Aiden fulfills his second dream by taking a job on a spaceship. Resigned to step into his expected role on Teresias, the prince returns to his homophobic planet. But as the king parades princesses before his son in hopes of a betrothal, Lydo finds his heart remains with a certain adventurous boy somewhere out in space.

 

Excerpt

“Good to know now you’re not a man of your word, before I start to trust you in any way,” Lydo said, face tight.

Aiden feigned ignorance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We had a deal.”

Aiden crossed his arms over his chest, still a little surprised at the feel of the taut, muscular pectorals rather than the soft breasts he’d lived with for so long. “You never believed me in the first place.”

Lydo bent close to Aiden’s face, and Aiden straightened his spine, refusing to be cowed. Tilting his head back, he looked at the big man face-to-face, heart rocketing into overdrive on multiple levels. Lydo was threatening, sexy, and unreadable, and if Aiden wasn’t careful, he was going to do something incredibly stupid like allow his crush to deepen into something much more dangerous.

“Are you able to get me out of here?” Lydo’s warm breath brushed Aiden’s face. “Or was it all a lie to get into my pants?”

“Answer me.”

Aiden sighed. “I could do it. The question is, is leaving what you really should do?” He put his hand on Lydo’s arm and touched the corded muscle of bulging bicep before snatching his fingers away again.

“There’s so much you could do here if you ruled as king. You saw those people, Lydo. The Konnics. They live a miserable existence on a barren wasteland because they have no other choice. If you were king, you could fix all that.”

Lydo’s eyes burned into Aiden’s for a long moment before the prince stepped away, putting some space between them. Inwardly, Aiden sagged with relief.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lydo grumbled.

Aiden considered that perhaps Lydo didn’t have it in him to be a good ruler. Remembering the sharp disappointment not an hour earlier when he’d realized it wasn’t Lydo giving him pleasure, followed by the twist of the knife when the Pusari female reported Lydo had been the one to send her, Aiden reminded himself only an acute sense of self-preservation had gotten him this far in life, and right then that sense was flashing a red light of warning.

Aiden’s desire for Lydo was blooming into something that threatened to throw him off course. The demanding, arrogant man who had come into the brothel had turned out to be more complicated than Aiden had at first thought. After managing to crawl beneath Aiden’s defenses, Lydo continually ran hot and cold. He seemed perfectly willing to give his body in payment for the favor he desired, yet he obviously had a problem with the concept of sleeping with a man.

 

Pre-Order at Amazon

Meet the Author

Best-selling author of contemporary and paranormal gay romance, Rebecca James is an English major with a life-long love of reading and writing who found her niche in M/M romance.Rebecca will be a supporting author at GayRomList 2017 this October in Denver.  Let her know if you’ll be there and if you’re one of her newsletter subscribers, she’ll have a special gift set aside for you!

 

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | eMail | Amazon | Newsletter

Check out Rebecca’s River Wolf Pack Series!

 

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Jul 24

Release Blitz: Stormy Nights by Jules Jones, Storm Duffy (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Stormy Nights

Author: Jules Jones, Storm Duffy

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 7/24/17

Heat Level: 5 – Erotica

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 45000

Genre: Contemporary, Paranormal, contemporary, paranormal, fantasy, mermen, fae, D/s, leather underwear fetish, older men, public sex, cottaging, menage

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Synopsis

Sex and love, lies and truth, shades in between. Happy endings and might-have-beens. Nine tales of these things between men.

Blurbs

Gone Fishing

Mike’s doctor prescribed a few weeks on a lonely beach as a rest cure for a weary mind. But even if the beach is empty, the sea holds more than fish.

Naked

Just how far will a man go to understand his partner’s desires? Will he bare all – including all of his skin to the razor blade?

One Size Fits All

Hugh’s everything that Gavin could ask for in a lover. Everything, apart from his taste in underwear. It’s boring. So Gavin decides to rummage through Hugh’s underwear drawer—and what he finds is so interesting that he tries it out for size.

The Fraudster

A forensic accountant’s job offer to a computer fraudster fresh from prison is a second chance for both.

A Sparrow Flies Through

High tech cottaging provides a few moments of light and warmth on a dark cold night.

If I Offered Thee a Bargain

Just one night of your life in exchange for seven years of love. Would you pay the price?
Jack never dreamed that a reluctant trip back to his home town would thrust him into the world of the sidhe. He finds that the legends are true, but the sidhe have changed.

Any Port in a Storm

A spilt coffee at the tram station on a snowy night leads to a table set for three.

Car Wash

Colin had always loved washing the neighbour’s car for pocket money. Rod’s classic car collection was a boy’s dream. And so is Rod, now Colin’s home from university and not a boy any more. Colin’s had a little fantasy about Rod’s vintage Jaguar and her gleaming curves for a while now…

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author

Storm Duffy has a number of erotica shorts published under that and other names in a variety of venues, including “The Mammoth Book of Quick and Dirty Erotica”. As Jules Jones, she has written several erotic romance novellas and novels, including the first M/M romance published by Loose Id.

Amongst the 2500 or so books on shelves in her house, there is room for rather a lot of cross-stitch thread and entirely too many balls of wool. There are also more bits of computer kit than is quite reasonable for someone who doesn’t do that for a living. The two microscopes, on the other hand, are entirely in keeping with a career in science.

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Jul 24

Book Blitz: Horatio Slice: Guitar Slayer of the Universe by Oleander Plume

Title:  Horatio Slice: Guitar Slayer of the Universe

Author: Oleander Plume

Publisher: Go Deeper Press

Release Date: 7/24/2017

Heat Level: 5 – Erotica

Pairing: Male/Male, Male/Male Menage

Length: 400

Genre: Erotica, Fantasy, Science Fiction, Humor

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Synopsis

Horatio Slice is NOT dead.

Gunner Wilkes knows a secret. Heartthrob rock star Horatio Slice is not dead. Sure, Gunner may turn heads with his big brain, good looks, and gym-built body, but his mind is on one thing only: returning his all-time favorite rocker and secret fanboy crush to Earth.

Yes, there are VAMPIRE PIRATES

Fame and stardom were starting to wear thin for Horatio Slice, but when he was sucked through a magical portal while on stage at Madison Square Garden into a jail cell in a strange dimension called Merona, his confusion quickly cleared upon meeting his sexy, dark-haired cellmate, a vampire pirate named Snake Vinter, who filled Horatio in about life in the universe, jumping from dimension to dimension, and craftily avoiding the wrath of gnarly-mask-wearing leather queen King Meridian—a guy nobody wants to cross.

The metal ship is named Frances.

And on Snake’s metal ship live eight identical blond Humerians, who proudly display their cocks and assholes in carefully crafted trousers, as well as a wild assortment of untamable, cock-hungry travelers and stowaways. But someone has hacked into Frances’ mainframe, demanding that Snake and crew deliver Horatio Slice to King Meridian, or feel his wrath.

All the zany magical comedy of Mel Brooks, an adventure not dissimilar to Indiana Jones meets Barbarella, and men, men, horny men, of all shapes and sizes, Horatio Slice, Guitar Slayer of the Universe is wild, fun, pornographic fiction for anyone who loves the masculine, the feminine, and all identities in between. Even more so, it’s for cravers—for aficionados—of big, hard, pounding cock, and anyone who can handle laughs that won’t stop coming.

Excerpt

Gunner raced to the machine and squatted in front of the laptop, hands trembling as he typed in an
eight-digit password. A red box popped up this time with the words, Open the portal? Y or N. In four
more minutes, he would tap the Y key again and hope to hell his invention worked. He willed the clock to
move faster while his fingers twitched in eagerness.

At 10:24, Gunner pressed Y, and the room exploded with light and sound.

“Holy fucking shit!”

He dove behind the ramshackle fortress head first, as if sliding into home base, wincing when his
elbow scraped the rug. He scrambled to his knees and poked his head over the top of the couch, barely
comprehending the chaos taking place around him. First, the air sizzled and turned blue. Loud vibrations
caused every object in the room to quake. The clamor grew louder and louder until it evolved into a
thunderous crack that reverberated through his spinal column. Gunner bit down on a knuckle to stifle his
screams of terror when a shimmering circle of light appeared in the ceiling. Right before his eyes, a figure
emerged from the portal. Two bare feet, followed by two bare legs, a pair of balls, and a cock—a gigantic,
hard cock.

“It’s actually working,” Gunner mumbled around the knuckle still wedged between his teeth, “but
where the hell are his clothes?”

Choosing to stay behind the bunker, Gunner rose higher on his knees to get a better view as the rest of
Horatio Slice appeared—intact and alive. Once the top of his head cleared the portal, the circle winked
out, leaving a ring of what appeared to be soot behind.

“Ow!” Horatio said as he hit the mattress. He sat up and rubbed his neck. “That hurt like a
motherfucker.”

And just like that, Horatio Slice was back—stark naked and kind of pissed off.

Gunner almost lost control of his bladder as he watched the hunk rise to full height. The man was a
glorious six-and-a-half-feet of chiseled muscle and masculine bravado. A seductive snake tattoo wound
over one calf, while another circled his right bicep. Horatio brushed his long, brunette hair out of his eyes
and looked around. “Where the hell am I?” he asked.

“Earth,” Gunner said. “New York State, to be exact.” He couldn’t take his eyes off Horatio’s cock. The rumors were true. Horatio Slice sported a behemoth between his legs, a fully erect behemoth dripping
copious amounts of pre-come. Gunner wondered what Horatio was up to before he fell through the portal.

“No shit? I’m back home,” Horatio said. “Sweet!”

“You’re welcome.”

“Who said that?” Horatio turned toward Gunner.

“Me. I’m a big fan. Really big. I can’t believe you’re here.” Gunner took a breath. “I can’t believe
you’re alive.”

“Of course, I’m alive.” Horatio stepped over a bundle of wires, crossing the six feet that separated
him from Gunner in two, long strides. Smiling, he leaned over the bunker and peered down at Gunner,
who shrunk back in shock. Was the guy checking him out? “Hello, hottie,” Horatio said, his smile
deepening into more of a leer.

While he’d imagined his idol’s homecoming many times, none of those fantasies included Horatio
being naked or staring at him with a throbbing erection and a predatory glint in his eyes. He practically
melted under Horatio’s piercing blue gaze. “Um, hi,” Gunner said as he crawled out on his hands and
knees from behind the sofa. “You made one hell of an entrance.”

“The impact almost shattered my spine,” Horatio said, “but I think I’m okay.”

Gunner took the hand Horatio offered and let the man hoist him to his feet. Instead of flip-floppy,
Horatio’s touch turned Gunner’s stomach into an over-inflated basketball that thumped against his ribs.
The ball bounced faster when he noticed Horatio eyeballing his crotch. Still holding Gunner’s hand,
Horatio pulled him closer and stared into his eyes. “You don’t work for Meridian, do you?”

Purchase

Go Deeper Press | Kindle | Amazon Print | B&N | Kobo | Inktera

 

Meet the Author

Oleander Plume lives in Chicago, Illinois, with her husband, two daughters and a pair of obnoxious cats. While she writes in many genres, her favorite is m/m. Or m/m/m. Or m/m/m/m, or … who’s counting, anyway?

Horatio Slice: Guitar Slayer of the Universe (published by Go Deeper Press) is Oleander’s first, full-length novel, but her short stories have appeared in anthologies by Violet Blue, Rachel Kramer Bussel, Shane Allison, Alison Tyler, Neil Plakcy, and F. Leonora Solomon.

Oleander also edited a self-published erotic anthology, titled Chemical [se]X, featuring stories centered around the theme of aphrodisiac chocolates.

For more information, please visit her at poisonpendirtymind.com.

 

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Jul 23

Blog Tour: Queen Called Bitch: Tales of a Teenage Bitter Ass Homosexual by Waldell Goode (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Queen Called Bitch: Tales of a Teenage Bitter Ass Homosexual

Author: Waldell Goode

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 7/24/17

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: No Romance

Length: 69300

Genre: Memoir, Memoir, Lit, gay, coming of age, African-American, family drama, high school, college, humorous

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Synopsis

A loud-mouth, black, gay teenager struggles to find himself in rural America. After having realized his inability to attend his top-choice school, Waldell Goode embarks on a journey to reevaluate why the grand departure appealed to him in the first place. He learns that as much as he can control his nonexistent love life, there are other factors that aren’t as easily mutable. He comes to terms with his peculiar relationship with his mother, the inevitable heartbreak in store for him no matter how hard he’s tried avoiding it, and the voice of God, in all her beguiling glory.

Excerpt

Queen Called Bitch
Waldell Abraham Goode © 2017
All Rights Reserved

ONE: Ryan Murphy’s a Fucking Liar

I officially begin with this because it is one of the more poignant issues I’ve been dealing with. It’s not that I have anything against Glee. I applaud the nature and success of the series, but I dislike how certain plot points, characters, storylines, and adolescent relationships deviate from realities concurrent with that of the authentic experience of my life. Glee is an excellent series, bringing awareness all across America of certain groups that have been neglected or outcast in a universal school setting. There isn’t any show that has mastered such a feat at the level Glee has, which is why the series remains a phenomenon, reaching and inspiring children all over the world to be themselves and embrace each other’s differences. Unless they’re Asian, in which case they’re promptly reminded to remain silent and take their proper places in the background where they belong; it’s amazing they’re allowed to consider themselves series regulars and not simply extras. I hate what they did with the token Asian character, Tina. They tried making her a more prominent character later in the series, failing miserably.

Reflecting on Glee, I would say their portrayal of high school is fairly accurate minus the students who appear to be better suited for an AARP commercial. I would even say my high school career was somewhat similar to Kurt’s, the token gay character. I was unsure of myself freshman year. I spent my time mostly in solitude, trying to avoid much of the ridicule I received in my eighth grade year. I was involved with the drama team where I met fellow weirdos like myself, I was hiding the fact that I’m gay, and I unwittingly thought no one knew it—despite how blatantly obvious it was, and everyone else must have been previously enlightened.

Sophomore year was even better. People began to know me and who I was, that I wasn’t a predator and spiritually intertwined with Satan. I came out as completely gay that year. Even I wasn’t buying the bisexual nonsense I fed myself and others in years past. I began to dress as I so desired and fully embraced the inner, gayer me. Being involved with the local university’s theater department, I had become acquainted with more degenerates who celebrated abnormality.

Junior year was when I finally came into my own. I led the drama department to a couple of victories as I was cast in the main role, and attended the Governor’s School of Southside Virginia Community College. I enjoyed myself the most that year, even though Governor’s School was stressful as hell and I failed chemistry. Senior year, the focus was on finding money to attend a university or college, and that didn’t happen so I suppose one could consider that a failure, but I considered it an opportunity to fuck around for another semester.

My high school career, one could say, was excellent and probably everything it was supposed to be. A necessary step in my life, but I can’t seem to shake the part about loneliness. For my senior trip at Governor’s School, we went on a boat ride for an hour and a half. In a tiny vessel meant for maybe eight to seat comfortably were crammed fifteen people shoulder to shoulder, stuffing packed lunches into their mouths as the tour guide blabbed on and on about the three foot deep lake that takes twenty minutes to travel from shore to shore. Rounding the trip for the fourth or fifth time, my English teacher, sitting beside me, established conversation as a means to keep me either from sleeping, or hauling my ass overboard. Our discussion grew from her love of animals to my high school experience, to her decades—long marriage with her husband of infinite years, and on to the scandal of her marrying her old high school principal. She asked me the one question everyone in my high school career managed to avoid, ignore, or already know the answer to. It was remarkable. Before that moment, I had never considered it. I wanted to contemplate the depth of my relations, possibly due to a lack of allowing myself to ponder the grim truth of deeply rooted negative dispositions I choose to utilize as defense mechanisms.

She looked me in the eye and leaned in close. “Waldell, are you lonely?” She spoke as if she was asking about the weather.

Although we were gently gliding atop a lake and I had consumed two bottles of water with my complimentary lunch, my mouth ran completely dry.

I took a second, regained the wind that had instantaneously been trounced out of my chest, and replied with a smooth and concrete, “No. I have amazing friends.”

Somehow she knew. I could see it in her eyes. That wasn’t what she was asking. She would clarify, and there would be no way I could playfully avoid its severity or laugh it off as I had become accustomed to doing.

She looked at me with deeper expression now, and asked, “No, but Waldell, are you really lonely?”

I began to look away and pretend to notice an area of the lake I previously hadn’t seen; we circled back for the thousandth time and nothing could’ve been missed. I couldn’t avoid it. I couldn’t make it funny, laugh it off, reference my mother or her alcoholism. I could only be honest with my professor, and in doing so, stop lying to myself. This is the one instance I can recall when lighthearted commentary failed to enter my mind when I needed some sort of comical relief… or relief in general. I looked her in the eye again, and with all the gusto I could find out there on the lake with sixty other people strolling along the pier, going about their day, eating their triangularly shaped cold cuts, I told myself the truth for the first time in four years with a single word.

“Yes.”

And here lies my problem with Glee. Kurt is an amazing character. He’s beautiful, funny, witty, he has flaws, and the greatest attribute a creator may accomplish with any character is the fact he’s human. I appreciated that representation of a homosexual teen in mainstream media. Before him, there weren’t many who closely resembled me. Friends and family who were familiar with the show deemed me “black Kurt,” or “Blurt.” I admired him, the character, his weakness and ultimate triumph over an oppressive society. As Oprah taught the world, one of the singular greatest gifts a person in the media can give is lending voice to the voiceless. That was Kurt Hummel, analogous with millions of gay teens all throughout the world, struggling to find themselves against social pressure and bullying. Kurt, portrayed by Golden Globe Award winner Chris Colfer, was a hero in a generation needing one.

I relate to this character. I understand this character; he lives in a small town, I live in small town. He knew he was gay from a very young age, and I remember when I was five and my father told my sisters they were turning me into a faggot. Kurt might as well have been real as far as character development goes. Many people felt or feel as if they know him. My biggest hindrance isn’t Kurt. It’s Kurt and Blaine, the boyfriend he found by transferring to a private magical school for gays only. Where was my Prince Charming, willing to stop the world and sing me thirty-two bars of a romantic cliché written nearly one hundred years ago, warning me of the freezing air outside as a means to keep me inside and eventually sleep with me? Where was my holiday crush, dying to sing a song with me made famous by a legendary songbird and famed homosexual porn star husband? Google Jack Wrangler, your life will be better because of it. I’m happy for the characters. I’m glad that it was as simple as taking a trip to Gay Land, picking out the sweetest model, and driving him back home to live out your days in happy gay bliss while each of you takes turns being more perfect. Kurt and Blaine are so wonderful, they even have sex in a special teenage special gay way, fully clothed, when Kurt loses his virginity.

Truth is, there was no guy willing to sing me anything. There isn’t a school of gays you can attend while testing the waters, trying to sniff out the next Neil Patrick Harris. Chances are if you’re a gay male and you’re from a small town, you won’t get many Prince Charmings knocking down your door, willing to make you feel special. Hell, chances are if you’re a gay kid attending high school in a small town, you’re probably the only gay in the vicinity—the only openly gay one, of course. Where was my romance? The best I’ve gotten was a thirty-eight-year-old on Grindr lusting after a minor’s dirty pictures he never received. I didn’t go to the prom with my boyfriend, I was never sung to or caressed in that way, I don’t know what “I love you” means beyond friendship, my first and last kiss occurred in tenth grade and the next day the boy denied it ever happened. The only time I’ve ever been called attractive was by a straight bi-curious friend who considered me his “experiment” that led absolutely nowhere, and the only date I’ve ever been on was a non-date with a gay guy who just wasn’t interested in me that way. Glee is astonishing, but honestly sometimes even after you’ve had the proper revelations and accepted yourself and others around you, life still hurts.

It’s not Glee’s fault that I don’t have anyone. I take sole responsibility. But I blame them for hope. I, along with the rest of America, cheered for Kurt and Blaine’s first kiss. However, their kiss didn’t make me any less alone. It’s me who still cries in the middle of the night for reasons I “thought” I didn’t know, but in actuality was avoiding. It’s me who lives with the moment my teacher decided to get personal and made me truthful. It’s me who has no one and continually decides to largely suffer in silence. How do you tell a friend, “Hey, I need you” without sounding weak? How do you admit it to yourself without remembering how painful it is? And how do you still believe in love when it has never happened to you?

I falsely call Ryan Murphy a liar, because it has never happened to me. He’s deceitful because he made me forget that characters, while closely resembling real people, are fiction and their stories can have endings that include tremendous declarations of love and overwhelming displays of affection because they’re written in. As a real gay teenager living in a real small town, I have been living the truth of what Glee has to avoid if only for their namesake; there is quite possibly no love story waiting for me.

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Meet the Author

Waldell Goode was born in Halifax, VA and is currently following dreams in Boston, MA.

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Jul 23

Blog Tour: Wehr Wolff Castle by B. Bentley Summers (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Wehr Wolff Castle

Series: The Wehr Wolff Chronicles, Book One

Author: B. Bentley Summers

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 7/24/17

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 120200

Genre: Paranormal/Horror, WW2, Alternate history, Lit/genre, fantasy/paranormal, horror, war, action, thriller, cisgender, abuse, military, experimentation, shifters, werewolves, spies, scientists

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Synopsis

During the rise of Nazi Germany, Hagen Messer joins the Royal Air Force as an American soldier who specializes in tracking. He’s attached to British commandos and given a seemingly simple mission—to find a captive and destroy a dam—but everything goes awry. Hagen’s plane crashes into Germany’s Wehr Forest and he has to use his extrasensory abilities to track the captive to nearby Wehr Wolff Castle, a secret Nazi base where vile experiments are being conducted.

Hagen and his surviving team members must sneak into the castle and devise a way to destroy the experimental labs creating diabolical creatures. Hagen is horrified to find Nazis and scientists with no scruples, and at the most inconvenient time, he learns that he may be in love with one of his teammates, an Irishman named Liam. In order to protect his love and his friends, Hagen must feign nonchalance amidst pure degeneracy and suspicion. Hagen soon discovers, though, that he is in over his head.

What may not only redeem him, but also save his lover and friends, is a childhood past and a darkness lurking deep inside him, just waiting to be engaged.

Excerpt

Wehr Wolff Castle
B. Bentley Summers © 2017
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One

Hagen

May 10, 1940

Somewhere over the border of Switzerland & Southern Nazi Germany

The wind whistled through the shattered window and into the airplane’s cabin. The draft had a cold bite, the air a metallic smell. A tremble spasmed through Hagen, and he crossed his arms over his chest and shivered.

On the row of seats facing him, blood spatter spread over the chairs and over the remaining wall. The engine nearest him sputtered.

This time, it’ll surely stop.

He rose from his seat and looked out through a nearby window to the wing. Black smoke poured from the spinning propeller but then cleared, and the engine roared back to life, setting into a steady thrum. He stared past the wing to the mountain range below. The plane passed through a heavy white cloud, and he sat back down in his seat.

One recurrent thought plagued him. If we crash, will it hurt? Breathe. Just breathe.

Raising his hands, he stared once again at the blood that had partially dried on them. Not his, thankfully. He wiped them on his shirt-front, which was soaked with blood, then reached for his forehead and winced as his fingertips dusted his wound.

Shouting from the cockpit drew his attention.

Lt. David sat in the one-man cockpit and turned so he could shout up to the white-haired pilot assistant, Alan Hodges. Hodges stood close to the pilot’s chair, holding onto a map and yelling down.

Someone grabbed Hagen’s knee and shouted at him gruffly. He met Sgt. Collins’s gaze. The man’s short salt-and-pepper stubbled face had specks of blood in it. The large man sat back on his haunches, his belly protruding over his belt. He peered at Hagen’s forehead and nodded with approval.

“Cheers, Kraut, received your first war wound.” Sgt. Collins leaned in and touched Hagen’s paratrooper jacket. “That blood yours?”

Hagen shook his head, licked his lips, and then asked, “We on the right course, Sarge?”

Sgt. Collins cupped his hand to his ear and furrowed his brow.

“Are we on the right course?” Hagen shouted.

Sgt. Collins glanced up at the front of the plane, where Lt. David and Officer Hodges argued, then brought his eyes back to Hagen.

“Have no bloody idea, Kraut. All I know is that I hope we don’t land in Hitler’s front lawn.”

Hagen nodded and clenched his fists. The sergeant shouted something else at him, but Hagen stared over his shoulder at the woman on the other side of the airplane. Roesia. He barely knew her, but it was comforting to see a survivor from the onslaught. So many had died. Her face was pasty white, and she had a vacant stare.

Sgt. Collins snapped his fingers in front of Hagen’s face, gaining his attention once again.

“Bloody hell, you’re completely out of it!” Sgt. Collins said, patting Hagen’s chest and sides, looking for any wounds. “Nothing. You’re lucky, Kraut.”

Sgt. Collins stood, went toward the tail, and yelled down to the lower gun turret. “O’Malley, say something, you Irishman!”

“Me arse is killing me, Sarge!”

A smile formed on Hagen’s face at hearing his friend’s voice.

The sergeant moved toward the tail and yelled up to the upper gun turret. “Kirby, keep your wits about you! If those bandits come at us, you take as many of them as you can.”

Corporal Kirby yelled something unintelligible. Hagen shifted in his seat and stared down as a viscous red fluid ran across the floor. A photograph lay near his foot. Reaching down, he plucked it off the ground—the one of him and his father from a year or so ago. Except half of it was now bloodstained and he could only see himself. He studied the broad-shouldered striking nineteen-year-old with a full-face grin that made him radiant. The picture could easily have been of one of those Hollywood actors, but it was of himself.

He leaned his head against the chair as his teeth chattered and his eyes became impossibly heavy.

Seems like so much has happened since then. But I arrived in England just two days ago? That’s it? Just two days?

A slap of metal caused his gaze to shift to the other side of the plane. A commando by the name of Commander Ford picked up the assault rifles and opened each ammo clip to check the bullets inside. Once satisfied, he laid them on top of a tarp that had turned a dark maroon from the blood-drenched floor. A second commando sat in a seat next to him, twirling a serrated knife in one hand.

The spinning knife mesmerized Hagen and helped him ignore the macabre scene around him.

Yes, it was. Two days ago, I rode into Shoreham Royal Air Force Base.

A freshly trained paratrooper from America with no war experience. While my brother’s mortally wounded body lay in front of me years ago, it was nothing like this.

Memories of the last couple of days reeled through his mind.

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Meet the Author

Bryce is a psychologist, gay author, and the founder of Queer Sense Theory.

Not sure what he wanted to do in life, Bryce spent his 20s exploring different jobs and landed one job in Bangkok, Thailand, which has yet to be topped. Deciding it was time to get a career, Bryce completed his doctorate degree in psychology at the University of Houston. Upon graduation he worked for the Department of Veteran Affairs for six years before becoming a contract psychologist who provides examinations to veterans, helping them get their disability and pension entitlements.

Bryce writes popular fiction genres that fall in the areas of Sci-Fi, Horror, Fantasy, Thriller, Supernatural, Suspense or a blend all of them, and he has a passion for gay fiction. He has self-published several gay fiction short stories and a novel that follow the character, Daemon the Demon Boy. He also published YA Post-Apocalyptic novels, Amen to Rot series as well as The Zombie Squad. The Zombie Squad was a finalist for the 2016 Readers Favorite in YA Horror. Rotville is a self-published Sci-Fi Thriller/ Horror that has been self-published was a finalist for the 2016 US Book News Contest.

He is also the founder of Queer Sense theory which provides a theoretical model on how people form attitudes towards LGBTQ+ individuals and shape one’s gender and sexual orientation identity. The theory looks closely at the interaction between social models, language, and attachment, or human connections, affect one’s feelings and thereby influence attitudes. Queer Sense is currently under review by a literary agency and will hopefully be published soon.

A new middle-grade werewolf book as well as a gay erotic urban fantasy book are in the pre-publishing phase.

Wehr Wolff Castle is the first installment of The Wehr Wolff Chronicles.

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7/23    MillsyLovesBooks     

7/23    Bayou Book Junkie   

7/24    Books,Dreams,Life     

7/24    Love Bytes      

7/25    Divine Magazine       

7/25    A. O. Chika Book Blog

7/26    Bonkers about books

7/26    Happily Ever Chapter

7/27    Queer Sci Fi    

7/27    MM Good Book Reviews       

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Jul 17

Blog Tour: Elias by Erin E. Keller (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Elias

Author: Erin E. Keller

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 7/17/17

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 36800

Genre: Contemporary, romance, contemporary, gay, cisgender, explicit, domestic abuse, panic attacks, law enforcement

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Synopsis

After his partner’s death, Thomas Doyle lives a life made of work and late-night sexual encounters with unnamed bodies. It’s a life of solitude that leaves him too much time to think and regret.

Yet, despite everything, he jealously treasures it.

That’s why when Elias Byrne—who comes out of the shadows of Thomas’ nights—suddenly bursts into his everyday life with arrogance, Thomas finds himself fighting against ambivalent feelings—the need to reject the tormented Elias and the strange, inconceivable, and difficult to accept desire to join their solitudes.

Excerpt

Elias
Erin E. Keller © 2017
All Rights Reserved

Chapter 1

THOMAS

The regular sound of the windshield wipers and the constant beat of rain on the car roof were the only sounds in the cabin.

Thomas’s hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white. He stared down the street while remaining pulled over on a secondary road near his house, one that led toward the police department of Landmeadow. His breath came fast and his heartbeat quickened.

He’d stopped when the first symptoms made him think he was having a heart attack, but he was used to these occurrences by now. He knew it was simply a panic attack. It wasn’t the first time he’d experienced it, but that didn’t mean that when the panic arrived there was anything to do besides trying to limit it. Once the terrible chain reaction started, he just had to find a way to stop it, one way or another.

He hated the condition; he hated his body for not being able to answer to rationality, to being influenced by this nervous short-circuit. There was nothing he could do to stop the flood of bad sensations, the oppressive feeling of death.

He wasn’t dying. In fact, he was quite healthy and young. He took care of himself and didn’t have heart disease. He really wasn’t dying. It was just panic. Bad, suffocating, terrible panic. He wasn’t dying. He only had to breathe. And maybe count. Distract himself.

He tried to take slow breaths, deeply, thinking about taking the pill, but maybe—since he was going to the police station—if he concentrated on the things he had to do, that would be enough. Maybe today, in this corner of South Ireland, there would be a case for him and his colleague. He didn’t hold out too much hope, but no doubt hoping was better than worrying about not having anything to help him emerge from this momentary crisis.

Keeping busy was the only thing he had been able to do since Aiden’s death. Aiden, his partner for ten years. He wasn’t supposed to leave so soon; he wasn’t supposed to leave Thomas alone. It wasn’t how things were supposed to go. They had bought the big house where Thomas was now living to start a B&B. Aiden would have managed it, and they had planned to live there for the rest of their lives. But accidents happen, and a fatal crash had torn from his hands the man with whom he had spent so many years and whose days had ended far too soon.

Two years had passed since that night, but he still felt the desire to close his eyes and give in to his melancholy. And sometimes cry. He often pretended his reality was something different. Daily he searched for the desire to find a new meaning to his life, to break free from the anxiety that had accompanied him since the night he received the news of Aiden’s accident.

In the end, he was lonely in that big house. In spite of the wishes of everyone, including his colleague Anne, he couldn’t follow his former dream of opening a B&B. Who would manage it? He wasn’t at home enough to take care of guests and, actually, the idea of having strangers at home didn’t exactly thrill him. He didn’t feel like being in close contact with people he didn’t know.

But that wasn’t true during those nights made colder by solitude…

Regardless, the house was still beautiful, big and almost empty. White and gray it stood, lonely and silent, in one of the best areas of the village. He loved living there, despite the echo of Aiden’s presence, but sometimes living alone didn’t seem like the best idea. Ghosts whispered and anxieties took over. Maybe it also wasn’t good to stay sitting at his desk at the police station, but work always helped him.

Right then, he just had to reach the office. He had to hope he wouldn’t faint while driving. What if he lost control of the car and wasn’t able to pull over in time?

Those thoughts made him lose his breath again. Thomas got out of the car, letting the rain soak his clothes and wet his face. He lifted his face to the sky and opened his mouth, inhaling and exhaling, reaching his arms out to the sides and stretching his muscles, trying to think about anything but death. He turned around a few times where he stood, continuing to take large mouthfuls of air and water.

Rain dampened his light brown hair and his pale face, sliding past the collar of his shirt and down his chest, leaving cold traces that gave him shivers and distracted him from the oppression he was feeling.

“Perfect. Go away. Come on…” he murmured, loosening his dark tie. He congratulated himself on being able to knot a tie without help from anybody. Which was lucky, because now nobody was the life companion he had chosen for himself here in Landmeadow, where somehow he was playing out a life that no longer felt like his, alone. Thirty-eight years old, county police detective, wealthy family, charming. But lonely.

Lonely in so many ways he didn’t even want to think about. Lonely, more out of choice than need. Which didn’t mean that six-letter word made him feel less empty inside. He’d promised himself not to get close to anybody else, not to let anybody get close enough to be able to hurt him again. Everything was meant to end—everything. Sometimes too early, too violently.

So, he lived his life as if it was made of airtight compartments. There was his job: his current partner and other colleagues. His female colleagues were always smiling at him and hoping to end up with him in some dark corner, as if being suddenly “widowed” could have changed his sexual orientation. There were also his parents, who he rarely spoke with, and the people he was working for. That was the fake stable reality that was his life. And then there were those nights when solitude was so heavy it pushed him to go out and look for a body to share it with for a few hours. A body that, the morning after, would leave the house before it was daylight, because Thomas didn’t want them to stay long enough to warm up the surrounding air.

His career and his job were what he concentrated on the most. He and his self-imposed solitude had found a good rhythm, a kind of pathological balance. And usually everything worked perfectly.

But he was lonely. And he was alone right in this moment too. He was afraid of dying and not having anyone to call.

“What are you doing? Dancing in the rain?”

Thomas jumped and turned in the direction of the voice. A guy, wrapped in a jacket that was too large for him, was staring at him from under the dripping gutter of a house close to where Thomas’s car was parked. He had his arms crossed and his hands under his underarms. His black hair was so long it fell over his eyes. He seemed thin and very young, but from the little Thomas was able to see of his expression, he was anything but innocent or young.

Thomas didn’t know how to answer such a question, nor did he even understand why the guy felt like talking to him.

“No,” he simply answered, then opened the door and quickly got back inside his car. What a fucking question. “Shit,” he swore when he realized he was getting everything wet. He turned back to the sidewalk and noticed the stranger was still looking at him. What did he want? Well, at least the short distraction had helped him to recover better than twirling under the rain.

He passed his hands through his hair, over his face and his short, well-trimmed beard, trying to wipe off as much water as he could. His eyelashes were full of raindrops, and he blinked rapidly.

He heard somebody knocking at the window and turned to the passenger seat, finding the guy from the street staring at him from outside the car. Thomas could see his face better now. He had sharp features, and he seemed to have dark eyes as well as dark hair, even if Thomas couldn’t be sure of what was hidden behind his long wet locks.

Thomas started the car and lowered the window a little, turning off the heating to get rid of the condensation on the windshield.

“What do you want?”

“A ride. Can you give me one?”

Instinctively, Thomas would have said no, but at that moment, he was grateful to the boy who had distracted him from his panic attack. Also, it was pouring rain and he felt bad for him. Thomas nodded and waited for the guy to get in and close the door before speaking again.

“Where do you need to go?”

“Far from here.”

Thomas looked at him, puzzled. “Okay, listen, I’m sorry to let you down, but I only have a ten-minute trip to make, so you won’t get very far with me.”

The guy turned to look at him but didn’t say anything. He moved his hair a little off his face and blinked. Thomas noticed that his hair was as long and wet as his own was.

“Okay, so let’s go for the ten minutes. I’m going where you’re going.”

Thomas wrinkled his nose but didn’t speak and pulled away from the sidewalk, back onto the road. None of their conversation had made any sense, but he was still confused by his anxiety and he didn’t feel like thinking too much about what was happening. He only hoped that, if the guy was a delinquent, he wouldn’t pull out a knife to rob him because even though he was a police officer and armed, Thomas felt like he was on the edge of an abyss. Not that Landmeadow was full of criminals, but you could find bad eggs everywhere, even in a lovely Irish village. His heart contracted in an unpleasant way, and Thomas started tapping nervously on the wheel to push away the bad sensation.

Panic, just go away. Thanks a lot, shit brain.

The trip continued silently. The stranger kept his face stubbornly turned toward the window, and Thomas couldn’t stop himself from wondering who he was, now that he had decided —or almost—that he wasn’t a danger, or looking to assault him, rob, or slice him open. For no particular reason, he felt curious. It also felt strange that this guy was sitting in his car after he’d dealt with his panic attack, asking him for a ride. Now, thinking about it, Thomas could have been dangerous too, for all the guy knew.

Yeah, sure.

“Shouldn’t you be at school?” he asked, trying to lighten the atmosphere, since his last thought had given him another worrying sensation. It was ridiculous that a grown man could be afraid of a teenager, but that strange feeling was really weird. And he wasn’t feeling that good at the moment.

“Why would I be?” the boy answered, turning slightly to look at him.

“I don’t know, you seem…young. Don’t they go at school at your age?”

“At my age? How old do you think I am?”

Thomas shut up and studied him out of the corner of his eye. “Eighteen? Seventeen?”

A sound similar to a woof came from the boy, and Thomas jumped a little, realizing only afterward that it had been a curt laugh.

“I’m twenty-three.”

Thomas turned and observed him better. “Well, it’s impossible to see your face with all that hair and you’re…thin. You look younger.”

A couple seconds passed before the man answered. “Do you usually prefer them bigger? Guess I’m not your type.”

Thomas almost slammed on the brakes in the middle of the street. He swerved a little and felt his blood pumping in his temples.

Who was this man? What did he want from Thomas? Did he know him? How could he? Had he crawled from the hidden night life to mix with Thomas’s life on the surface? What a fucking start to the day!

“Who are you and what do you want from me?” he asked, hoping his voice wouldn’t crack as he looked at the man from the corner of his eye.

The young man shrugged his shoulders. “My name’s Elias. I’ve seen you a few times at the Black Sheep. I followed you. I’ve seen where you live.”

Pulsations at his temples started up violently, in a worrying way.

Oh my god, what if I have a stroke right now?

Elias is a strange name around here.

What has he seen? With who? When?

My temple is pulsing so much.

Count! You are not going to have a stroke.

Shit!

“What are you? A stalker?” Thomas asked in a harsh voice, keeping a strong grip on the wheel, pushing away the last terrible thought.

Elias smirked. “I don’t know. Is that what you’d call it? I wanted you to notice me.”

What the fuck?

Thomas didn’t know how to respond. He turned back to the guy again, keeping an eye on the road. The humidity in the car made it difficult to breathe, and the rain on his clothes was drying, leaving a bad, sticky sensation. He was used to the weather, and despite everything, he loved it. Still, he deeply hated the feeling of his clothes stuck to his skin.

“I could be your father. Don’t talk bullshit.” It was useless to deny it. The guy knew exactly what he was talking about.

“I don’t care. Don’t you like me?”

Oh God.

“I can’t even see your face. How the fuck can I know if I like you? What do you want me to say? No, you’re twenty-three, Elias. I don’t know who you are and I don’t want to know. Listen, get out please.”

Thomas pulled over on the sidewalk and looked at Elias, but the young man didn’t move.

“Don’t make me get you out of the car by force.”

Elias didn’t move and didn’t speak; he stayed looking at Thomas with eyes as dark as deep abysses. Magnetic abysses like black holes that could suck you in and never let you come back up to the surface.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Thomas got out of the car and spun around. Keeping a hand on his head, he opened the side door and took Elias’s arm to pull him out of the car. “I told you not to push me,” Thomas said, a moment before he found two arms around his neck and a soft wet-from-the-rain mouth pushing against his, a soft tongue searching for his tongue, a thin body pushing against his.

It only lasted for a few seconds, but to Thomas, it seemed like an eternity. If before the violent beating of his heart had been caused by anxiety and neurosis, now it resounded in his chest for a totally different reason.

He pushed Elias away, held him back by the arms, and stared into his eyes, puzzled, shocked, and shaken. For a moment, he was breathless and speechless.

“Are you crazy?” he was able to say after a moment.

Elias licked his lips and remained silent for a while. “I want to see you again.”

Thomas opened his eyes widely. “Do you speak my language or not? No. No. N. O. I don’t know who you are, and I don’t want to know. I don’t want to see you again, okay? Shit, this feels like the Twilight Zone.”

Thomas stopped for another few seconds, maybe waiting for a reaction, maybe to realize it wasn’t a dream or his imagination. Then he turned, got back into the car, and slammed the door before taking off with a screech of the tires, leaving Elias on the sidewalk, looking after him. The fact that Thomas knew Elias was looking at him because he’d checked him out in the rearview mirror didn’t mean anything.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author

Erin is Irish in her heart and soul, and she hopes she’ll move to the Emerald Island one day. She lives with her husband and their cats in a house near a wheat field.

She has been writing for years but admits she is a very undisciplined writer. The problem is that handling a couple of jobs makes it almost impossible to write every day. She loves letting her mind wander through the real world and likes to write contemporary M/M romance, because she loves love. And men.

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Tour Schedule

7/17    A Book Lover’s Dream Book Blog      

7/17    MillsyLovesBooks      

7/18    Because Two Men Are Better Than One           

7/18    Book Lovers 4Ever    

7/19    Bayou Book Junkie    

7/19    Happily Ever Chapter

7/20    Divine Magazine        

7/20    Kimmers’ Erotic Book Banter           

7/21    Erotica For All

7/21    Wicked Faerie’s Tales and Reviews   

7/21    MM Book Escape       

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