New Release Blitz ~ Uncovered by Noja Lina (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Uncovered by Noja Lina

Word Count:  32,008
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 123

Genres:

BISEXUAL
CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
GAY
GLBTQI

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Book Description


People keep themselves covered in many ways. But, sometimes, it’s not possible—and someone’s looking.

Jake postpones buying curtains for his new apartment. At one point, he notices that a man from the building across keeps watching him every morning. Jake then confronts the guy, whom he considers a stalker.

Thomas is not actually a stalker and is put off by Jake’s aggressive tendencies. Even so, they continue interacting and a bond starts forming. Jake develops romantic interest in Thomas but refuses to admit it and struggles with getting them to be closer. Along the way, he discovers that Thomas hates aggression because he had dealt with domestic violence in his past.

They both need to overcome their respective fears and change. Will they succeed—or fail and fall apart?

Reader advisory: This book contains discussion of stalking, mention of suicide, descriptions of physical, emotional and metal abuse, and discussion of a main character’s history of abuse.

Excerpt

Jake liked the new place he had rented at the start of his first year in the master’s program. It was a small, one-room apartment with a kitchen and a bathroom on the fourth floor of an old building on the eastern side of Thornburg. The neighborhood was packed with tall buildings, narrow streets and large supermarkets, but Jake was among the lucky residents whose view included a yard with a couple of trees among all the other concrete structures.

His new place was only five bus stops away from Thornburg’s center, where Jake would get off and walk an extra ten minutes to get to his college. Buses ran frequently in his new neighborhood and, even when Thornburg experienced the levels of traffic it was renowned for, it still wouldn’t take more than twenty minutes for Jake to get to the city center.

Thornburg was also famous for its high rent and housing prices, but Jake had managed to score a living space with a lower-than-average rent for the type of place it was. So, with his current budget and needs, the newly rented lodging was ideal for him.

Since he had lived in the student dorms up until that point, he didn’t have many things. Cleaning supplies and utensils, dishes, some appliances and other such things had been shared with his previous roommates in the dorm. As such, they were currently missing from his apartment. He really needed to go shopping.

Jake also didn’t have curtains, so he needed to add those to his shopping list, too. But, since buying all the stuff at once would leave him starving until his next paycheck and there wasn’t really any certainty when that would be, he prioritized buying only the things he really needed and only when he really needed them.

And so, one month after his university year had started, Jake still did not have curtains.

The building opposite from his was fifty meters away, separated by the yard where people walked their dogs and kids played hide and go seek. That building was positioned in such a way that Jake could easily see inside the homes on the third, fourth and fifth floors. Of course, the reverse was also true, and someone from the opposite building could see inside Jake’s apartment, especially with him not having any drapes or curtains.

This didn’t bother Jake, and he changed clothes in his room with complete disregard to the fact that someone might see him during this daily activity. Whenever the thought entered his mind, he immediately dismissed it, thinking that most people had better things to do than watch a random guy changing and doing stuff inside his own place.

That was, until one morning when he was proven wrong. Jake had just taken off the T-shirt he had slept in and gone over to the windowsill to get the camera he had left there. Looking out through the window, he saw a guy around his age, sitting on the threshold of his balcony on the fourth floor of the opposite building, smoking a cigarette and looking directly at Jake as he was doing so.

Jake challenged the other guy with his gaze, but the latter seemed completely unaffected as he continued to look at Jake, barely even blinking. If the other guy had shown some kind of aggravating reaction—or even any reaction at all—Jake was ready to shout, show the middle finger or do something else that would aggravate the other guy in return. But, as there was no reaction, Jake had nothing concrete to go on. For all he knew, the man could just be staring into space and it only seemed like he was looking at Jake. So, Jake stepped away from the window to finish his business, forgetting the incident had ever happened by the time he reached the bus stop.

The next morning, he remembered it and, out of curiosity, looked toward the opposite building to see if the guy who had been potentially staring at him was still doing it. He was.

Again, he was sitting on the threshold, smoking a cigarette and looking straight at Jake. Again, Jake itched to do something to make him back off, but he was running late, so he postponed doing anything about the matter.

On the third morning, the guy wasn’t there, and Jake thought he may have jumped to conclusions too soon. So, he made a mental note to better control his aggressive reactions until he was sure he had good reasons for having them.

The fourth morning came, and Jake saw the other guy again, staring at him with a blank expression. Jake forgot about the mental note he had made, went out on his balcony shirtless, crossed his arms and glared at the guy. He was confident in his ability to be intimidating and to keep it up until either the other person lost their nerve or until Jake lost his cool. However, the guy proved to be a considerable opponent, as he never once turned his gaze away or changed his expression. Three minutes passed like that, and the annoyance building up within Jake was going to soon make him drop the glaring for something more impactful. But, then, the other guy showed a faint smile, looked at his wristwatch, put out his finished cigarette, stood up and waved to Jake before entering his apartment.

That motherfucker!

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About the Authors

Noja Lina

New writer on the romance block, Noja Lina likes writing uplifting contemporary romance stories. These stories are centered around engaging male characters, usually dealing with personal struggles alongside love struggles.

Noja lives in Romania, specifically Transylvania. When she’s not working at her full-time job or working on one of her stories, she enjoys her one-sided love relationship with various forms of Asian media, enjoys adding another cooking fail to the collection and hanging out with friends over a cold beer.

Find Noja on her website, on Facebook and on Twitter.

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New Release Blitz ~ Six Weeks by Nan Comargue (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Six Weeks by Nan Comargue

Word Count: 37,154
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 158

Genres:

CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
FAKE RELATIONSHIPS
FRIENDS TO LOVERS
MULTICULTURAL

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Book Description


Jaya’s relationships never last more than six weeks. Austen wants to be her forever.

Six weeks is the outer limit for one of Jaya’s relationships. When men find out there is no future with her, they tend not to stick around for long.

She’s gotten into the habit of leaning on her cousin Austen to get over each breakup. Who better? Austen is six feet three of solid sympathy. Both adopted into the same extended family at young ages, they’ve been friends their whole lives, with a mutual taste for good food and expensive whisky. But when Jaya takes her latest failed romance to him, Austen makes it clear his interest in her is far from cousinly.

“Think about me,” Austen tells her, and Jaya starts to do just that. No doubt, Austen is incredibly attractive, and she can’t say she’s not curious to find out what he’s like in bed, but can their bond survive this new test?

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of light bondage.

Excerpt

Austen answered his phone on the first ring.

“What do you need, kiddo?”

Jaya paused, taken aback by the curt greeting. After a moment, she realised that he always answered his calls from her in the same way. “What do you need?” As if she could never just be calling for no reason at all.

“Is that any way to greet your favourite cousin?” she replied, forcing a bright note into her voice. “You’re my favourite, you know.”

“As far as you know, you might have any number of cousins,” Austen said coolly. “How could you possibly claim to know I would be the favourite?”

Because you’re the only one I’ve actually met, she wanted to tell him, although she understood the crude point he was trying to make. By blood, she was no cousin of his.

Jaya wished she owned one of those old-fashioned phones with the long curly cord so she could twine it between her fingers. Instead, she shifted her mobile from one sweaty hand to the other.

She wasn’t about to tell him that she couldn’t bear her own company tonight. She’d left work early, needing to get away from the high-energy actors she was constantly surrounded by, only to find that the so-called peace of her apartment was too oppressively quiet.

“I thought we might grab a drink tonight,” Jaya said, still striving to maintain her cheerful tone. “It’s been a while.”

“Six weeks,” Austen said. “Right on schedule.”

She remembered what he’d said the last time they’d met up. That she only called him when she broke up with someone. That, to her, he was no more than a shoulder attached to a man. A shoulder for her to cry on, presumably, although she never did cry. She merely got drunk.

“Ha ha. Do you want the drink or not?” Jaya demanded.

“I have to get up early tomorrow,” Austen told her, sounding uncharacteristically reluctant.

What is wrong with him? Jaya wondered, pulled out of her own problems for a brief moment. It had to be bad if he was turning down liquor. They both fancied themselves connoisseurs of the hard stuff. Neither of them drank wine or, shudder, beer.

“I’ll get you home early, granddad,” Jaya told him. “So how about it? Nine o’clock at The Cat’s Whiskey?”

“All right, kiddo.”

Shaking her head, Jaya hung up. He didn’t have to sound so bloody glum about the prospect.

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About the Author

Nan Comargue

Nan Comargue is a romance and erotic romance writer who has been reading romance novels all her life. She prefers sexy confident heroes who win over slightly introverted heroines (read: nerdish types) but she writes about everything from angel-warriors to cowboy ménage.

Nan blogs about her writing journey and other interesting topics (zombies!) here but lately she tweets more than she blogs (and sometimes more than she writes).

Nan is Canadian, eh?

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New Release Blitz: The Magic Between by Stephanie Hoyt (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  The Magic Between

Author: Stephanie Hoyt

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 02/15/2022

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 105400

Genre: Paranormal, LGBTQIA+, celebrities, athlete, pop star, magic, magic users, musicians, sports, college, MM romance, sexual discovery, in the closet, coming out, bonded, slow burn, gender non-conforming, mental illness (OCD), #ownvoices

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Description

In a world where everyone has magic coursing through them, legend says magic itself craves a mate. Legend says those with opposite magics have the greatest chance of forming the unbreakable Bond it desires.

A.B. Cerise is an obsessive-compulsive pop star with the ability to turn invisible. He’s an out bisexual with absolutely no belief in Bonds. He has a love-bruised heart, thinks dating in the spotlight is a hassle at best and a nightmare at worst, and has no intention of going through it all over again.

Matthew Hellman-Levoie is the NHL’s number one goalie prospect, the youngest in a hockey dynasty, and one of the rare few who can see the unseeable. He’s a straight man who wears his heart on his sleeve, has grown up searching for a Bond, and dreams of finding the love of his life.

Their magic is magnetic. Their touch is electric. They’re the textbook case for Bonding. But legend never said anything about what to do when sparks fly between people opposite in more ways than magic.

Excerpt

The Magic Between
Stephanie Hoyt © 2021
All Rights Reserved

AB Cerise is a disaster. He’s an obsessive-compulsive ball of barely checked anxiety surrounding his Invisibility being discovered and used against him. He has no rational reason for it. None at all. The fear is annoying, unreasonable, absolutely nonsensical, considering the whole world is full of magic. Like, AB knows no one would care about him being a Concealer beyond him cracking after years of dodging the particularly bold interviewers’ questions of where he falls on the list of categories.

But the real kicker, what makes this obsession of AB’s so much worse, is the absolute lack of proof to support the possibility of someone being able to manipulate him and his Invisibility just by Knowing he is. In fact, his Invisibility has always been tied to his emotions, so the obsessive way he fixates on being controlled and the compulsive way he avoids ever turning Invisible only further destabilizes his magic. Again, AB knows this. He does.

When it comes to magic, AB is his own worst enemy, but he can’t stop. He’s spent nearly five years in therapy, and he’s still plagued by the same insidious hell his mind has created for optimal torture. His intrusive thoughts are a terrible inconvenience that AB has spent an inordinate amount of time wallowing over, but despite her best efforts, AB can’t accept what Dr. Barnes says. Her end goal, since the beginning, has always been for AB to publicly Divulge and rob his intrusive thoughts of their power. Unfortunately, AB can’t even think about Divulging without breaking out in a cold sweat.

But therapy hasn’t been a useless waste of time. He is trying and he is making progress. Sort of. He hasn’t made as much progress as he should, but he’s made enough. He can now stay present when he’s anxious, no longer getting lost in his emotions to the point he has to run off and hide before he Conceals in front of people he’s never Divulged to. Hell, AB even survived a strange, and frankly traumatic, case of the Frits from two years ago that resulted in him Concealing the moment he stepped on stage at a sold-out Madison Square Garden.

Sure, the whole ordeal led to a spike in anxiety, a tightening of the grip the fear of being Known and controlled had over him, but the very thought never got the best of him. He never turned Invisible because of it. Which, in AB’s opinion, is a significant achievement, considering how Displaying in front of tens of thousands of strangers would’ve been a catastrophic, debilitating event at the start of his therapy journey.

AB thinks about going Invisible often. Thinks about the only indication he even had the Frits was the split second of spontaneous Concealment. About the two full weeks he spent monitoring for other symptoms that never appeared. About his Invisibility always coming with a spark and how the sensation at the Garden was wild and electrifying. How much more exhilarated he was on stage—as if the dial had been turned all the way up, maxed out. But mostly, AB thinks about the random times the same sensation has prickled beneath his skin while he wanders New York City—fast and intense but never as substantial as the one at the concert, never enough to bring on the Frits, not even a tiny blip of Invisibility.

He’s at brunch, smiling awkwardly as people recognize him on his mimosa-soaked trek to the bathroom, when the same electricity makes another appearance. This time, the sensation is accompanied by a sharp tug at his heart, and AB knows, deep in his bones, Invisibility will be inevitable no matter how hard he tries. He speeds to the bathroom; thankful the sensation doesn’t reach its peak until after the door shuts; annoyed as he checks to find his hand the same transparent purple he always is while Concealed.

Personally, AB thinks a lap full of mimosas is enough inconvenience for the day, but the universe doesn’t seem to agree. Not only can he not push the Invisibility down, but when he leans against the door to stop anyone else from coming in, and lets out a soft, frustrated groan, something clatters to the ground in front of him.

Because of course someone was already in here. Of course, AB couldn’t be spontaneously Invisible in peace. Of course, he already ruined his chance of getting out of the way without making a noise. Of course, this guy is staring at AB with wide bewildered eyes.

Wait.

Back up.

No.

That’s not possible.

“What the fuck?”

Is AB shrieking? He’s definitely shrieking. But… “You can see me! You can see me? Can you see me?”

Not only can this absolutely beautiful man—no, this bro—see him, but he’s staring at AB with absolute wonder in his eyes. He opens his mouth but then shuts it with a click of his teeth; instead, he looks AB up and down with such a methodical intensity AB begins to fidget. AB wouldn’t consider himself a blusher, but every sweep of this guy’s eyes leaves AB burning. His gaze settles back on AB’s face before speaking, and when he does, AB thinks he must be hearing things—there’s no way.

No.

Possible.

Way.

“Uh, what?”

Mr. Omnivision over there—because what else could he be?—purses his lips, then repeats, “I know this sounds ridiculous, but I think you’re my future Bondmate.”

AB might be short-circuiting. What the actual fuck! This guy, this gorgeous guy with his ridiculous sweatpants and his ridiculous backwards snapback and his ridiculous smile, can’t possibly be standing in front of him claiming they’re Bondmates. At brunch. While AB is covered in mimosa. This has to be fake.

Did he make an enemy of an Illusionist who’s messing with him? Is he seeing things? He must be seeing things. This guy has to be an Illusion.

“I can assure you I’m real,” Mr. Omnivision says, looking at his pants with bemusement before stepping forward with his hand outstretched. “Hi, I’m Matthew.”

Oh, great. He’s been thinking out loud.

AB knows he’s being rude—can faintly hear his mother’s voice chastising him in the back of his mind—but he can’t stop staring. Despite his awful outfit, which AB has apparently insulted to his face, Matthew is stunning. He has dirty-blond hair and a ridiculously strong jaw and a dusting of freckles. Which really isn’t fair—freckles are his kryptonite. How could he not stare?

“This isn’t going the way I’ve always imagined.”

Matthew drops his hand and awkwardly rocks back on his heels. The downward slope of his mouth knocks AB’s brain back online.

He thrusts his hand out. “Shit. Sorry for staring. And insulting you. I’m AB.”

“You also called me gorgeous, so I’ve decided to think of it as balancing out,” Matthew says, his mouth quirking as he takes AB’s hand.

AB is making a fool of himself, and he’d absolutely die of embarrassment if shit didn’t get downright weird when he takes Matthew’s hand in his. Simultaneously, bright golden light bursts from where their palms meet, and AB pops back into view.

“What the fuck?” AB squawks, snatching his hand away.

Even after breaking contact, the heat of Matthew’s hand burns against AB’s skin, and while he’s no longer Concealed, none of the electricity produced by their touch has dissipated. Instead, they’re encased in an invisible crackling bubble of it, as if the light of their handshake shocked the air surrounding them.

“So, that was weird,” Matthew says, after AB fails to add anything constructive to their conversation. He bites his lip, an indecipherable emotion flickering across his face, and then adds, “Uh. I kind of have to go? But I’m serious about what I said. And considering all of this—” He motions between them, pointedly staring at AB’s hand. “—I’m hoping you’ll give me a chance to explain?”

“Wait, what?”

“Uh, like, can I…maybe get your number or…shit.”

Matthew fidgets with his hat, the tips of his ears burning. “Look, I don’t live under a rock. I know who you are and how this could…I don’t know, come off as some sort of ploy to get your attention? You mentioned this could be an Illusion, which I’m not, obviously, but I absolutely understand if you’re not comfortable giving me your number, but I’d really like to explain myself when we’re not in a bathroom and my impatient friends aren’t ten seconds away from storming in here to drag me out. Or maybe your email? Or—you have Twitter, right? Who doesn’t have Twitter? Well, I don’t have Twitter, but uh…Instagram? Or if you’re into face-to-face chats we could agree on a time and public place to meet up again? I’m running out of ideas here. What else is there?”

Matthew blushes, turning his sun-tanned skin an adorable shade of ruddy pink, and all AB can focus on are the freckles, darker on his nose than anywhere else. He’s staring again. Or maybe he never stopped staring, and really, AB should be mortified, but this has been such a strange encounter he doesn’t think Matthew can judge him. He’s running through all the ways entertaining Matthew’s declaration is a terrible idea, how he clearly caused the one thing AB is so obsessed with happening, how he should be running far, far away, when everything clicks into place.

“Were you, by any chance, at my concert when I played Madison Square Garden a couple years ago?”

Matthew furrows his brow. “Yes, but what does—wait. It wasn’t actually the Frits? You think I caused your Concealment? Or, well, our magics Reacting made you Invisible?”

“Wait, sorry… How can you possibly tell what type of Concealer I am?”

“A guy’s got to keep some secrets,” Matthew says with a slow, crooked smile. “Maybe I’ll tell you one day.”

The smile tips him over, and AB makes a decision Carson might actually murder him for.

“I’m not sure about Bondmates, but you’re certainly affecting my magic. Which intrigues me almost as much as it pisses me off. So yeah, give me your number.”

AB unlocks his phone and brings up a new contact page, then hands it to Matthew. “I’ll text you once I’ve decided whether or not meeting up with you is a dangerous idea or just recklessly irresponsible.”

Matthew snorts when he reads the name AB put him in as.

AB shrugs. “Well, aren’t you?”

Matthew’s face is dazzling when he smiles. “Yeah, you got me there.”

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Meet the Author

Thematically, Stephanie likes magic and spies and magical spies. Aesthetically, she likes glitter and gold and pineapples. She wants to put more soft, sweet bi representation into the world so that people like her teen-self can see themselves in their favorite genres and know that who they are is nothing to be ashamed of.

She currently lives in the Great White North (Wisconsin) with her husband, daughter, and three dogs. The only thing getting her through these Midwest winters is the soothing sound of Tim Riggins saying “Texas forever” and the prospect of one day moving back there.

She loves a good astrology twitter but ultimately only believes in it when her husband calls her stubborn and then her response is: “Well, I am a Taurus.”

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New Release Blitz ~ A Valentine to Die For by Aver Rigsly (Excerpt & Giveaway)

A Valentine to Die For by Aver Rigsly

Book 1 in the Noir Nights series

Word Count: 41,450
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 171

Genres:

CRIME
CRIME AND MYSTERY
EROTIC ROMANCE
GAY
GLBTQI
HISTORICAL
VALENTINES

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Book Description

Having a secret admirer can be deadly.

Ricky Morris, private investigator on New York’s elite Upper East Side, has forged a shady yet profitable life as a gumshoe for wealthy Manhattanites after burning the bridge to his law enforcement past. When women in the city are targeted by a sweet-toothed murderer in the week leading up to Valentine’s Day, the last thing Ricky expects is to be hired by the younger brother of the man who ruined his life.

Timothy Ward, young, fresh patrolman for the N.Y.P.D. who never thought he’d have to step outside the law, finds himself in desperate need of Ricky’s help when he fears his brother, James Ward, the Deputy Chief, could be behind the killing spree.

With Valentine’s Day fast approaching, both men will have to work in the shadows, putting their careers and lives on the line to get to the bottom of the murderer’s sickly sweet and cruel plans. That is, if the burning heat of undeniable—and very forbidden—lust between them doesn’t consume them in the flames of reckless desire first…

Reader advisory: This book contains period-typical attitudes including slurs. There are mentions of on-page gunplay, and a slow-burn between the main characters over the course of the series.

Excerpt

February 1954. New York City.

“Mrs. Banks…this is going to be hard to hear.”

“What exactly are you telling me, Mr. Morris?”

Ricky’s head was pounding, right behind his eyes and down the back of his neck. A full-blown shit-show of a hangover. He took a last puff of his cigarette and smooshed the butt of it out in the ashtray.

“I’m sorry to say, but it’s what you were afraid of.”

“I knew it,” she snapped, her ruby-painted lips pursed tight. “I just knew it.”

“Unfortunately, I have photo evidence here of your husband, on multiple occasions, visiting, let’s say…some of the less savory parts of the city, ma’am.”

He reached into the top drawer of his desk, plucked out a glossy photograph and slid it across for Mrs. Banks to inspect.

“And who is she? Who is the whore?”

“Actually, there are three different broads here.” He pulled out a couple more photos, a short stack of four-by-five gelatin silver prints that he had developed himself in his makeshift darkroom. He laid the photos out, candid shots of Mr. Banks in his snazzy Buick Roadmaster, ladies hanging in through the passenger-side window, sitting beside him in the car, kissing the side of Mr. Banks’ thick neck—and those were just the photos that were considered decent compared to the others processing down the hall.

“I should have goddamn known. Theo is a fucking pig and always has been.”

Ricky raised his eyebrows but kept his cool, nodding to make her feel better. That was just Mrs. Banks—that sharp tongue of hers was very unladylike, no matter how expensive her silk pantyhose and real mink coat were, or how many strands of pearls she looped over her hand-tailored housedress.

Regardless, she wasn’t wrong about Mr. Banks. Ricky had spent the last week tailing Theodore Banks around the Financial District. Theo was a man who knew how to make dough. A pencil-pushing broker, Banks was the perfect example of a man whose money didn’t buy happiness. His wife was half his age—a stunning doll in her own right—and Ricky had noticed the moment they’d met how well she presented herself. She was a real looker of a dame, but Theo had a wandering eye and a penchant for not keeping his prick in his pants.

It was sort of pathetic how easy it had been to track him down and snap the photos of him getting a messy blow job in the front seat of his Buick. The fella had hardly lasted more than five minutes. Ricky did not envy Mrs. Banks, the poor woman, considering what she must deal with in the marital bed.

“What the hell am I supposed to do now?” she asked, digging into her handbag and rummaging around before pulling out a sleek chrome cigarette case. She popped the clasp and pulled out a menthol from the red velvet-lined inside. Her hands were shaking.

“Here, let me.” Ricky stood and leaned over the desk, offering her a light from his silver Zippo. Her red lips wrapped around the end of the cigarette and smoke curled up as she took the first few puffs.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Of course, and, Mrs. Banks? As for the…delicate predicament you find yourself in…”

“Yes?”

“As I see it, your best course of action would be to pursue a legal divorce.”

“Divorce? Like hire a lawyer?”

“That would be what I would do in your position, ma’am. You’ve suffered long and hard from a husband who is not only an adulterer, but who has also been recklessly spending your household income on lewd, and may I add, illegal activities.”

“Well, yes. Who knows how much money he’s thrown away on those filthy prostitutes?”

“Exactly, ma’am. May I ask, Mrs. Banks, is your name also on all your husband’s accounts?”

“Yes…”

“Well, I’m certain that if you ask a bank teller to show you all withdrawal statements for the past few months, you will see quite a bit of cash being removed. I could even give you the dates that all these photographs were taken, which I suspect would match the same dates of the withdrawals. On top of that,” Ricky said, hardly feeling the pounding headache as he played his role of charming confidant, “while these photos here might be argued against and possibly dismissed by the right defender in a court of law, I have in my possession downright illicit photographs that would be impossible to sweep under the rug. The more proof of the wrongdoing built against the accused, the better chance the court will grant you a larger portion of your husband’s estate.”

“Is that so?” Her cigarette smoldered forgotten between her fingers, her hands no longer shaking.

“Yes, indeed. Between the photos I have and any bank statements showing the frivolous spending, you could make out with quite a pretty penny, Mrs. Banks. More than enough, I’d say, to keep a lady such as yourself very comfortable.”

“At least until I find a second husband,” she quipped. “I can’t help but notice that you aren’t wearing a wedding band, Mr. Morris. Are you single? Or maybe that quiet blonde girl at the door is your girlfriend?”

“You mean Liz? No, she’s just my secretary and close friend. And I have never been interested in marriage. I’m a simple bachelor and I enjoy it that way.”

“Such a shame,” she said. “So, what do I owe you? For your services, and for those other photographs you mentioned. I would very much like to purchase those as well.”

“In my line of work as a private investigator, I am often the bearer of bad news, and I feel terrible for your hardship, ma’am, so I’ll give you a courtesy discount. It would be my honor. How about we call it…eight hundred and fifty for everything, and I’ll be happy to have done business with you, Mrs. Banks.”

“Do you accept traveler’s checks?”

“Of course, ma’am.”

“Splendid.” She dug around in her handbag again, and Ricky leaned back in his chair. He lit a new cigarette, pleased with himself. Tonight, he was going to order a juicy steak dinner with all the fixings and a hefty glass of whiskey to go along with it. Jobs like these were perfect for milking desperate housewives. Show them a few pictures of their sleazy asshole husbands, and they turned to putty in his hands. Gold-diggers like Mrs. Banks were the best kind of all—all too eager to spend their husband’s money.

She handed over the checks, almost nine-hundred-bucks’ worth, and Ricky tucked them safely into his desk drawer.

“Much thanks indeed, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Mr. Morris. I will be sure to mention your name if any of my friends need similar help.”

“That’s all I can ask for, ma’am. You know where to send them. My door is always open to those in need.”

If they had the green for it. Simple as that.

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About the Authors

Aver Rigsly

Aver Rigsly was born and raised in the Boston, Massachusetts area and spends her days working at a travel agency in Quincy. Some of her favourite places to visit are Washington D.C., Bangor, Maine, and most of all New York City. When she isn’t working a trip or writing LGBTQA+ romance obsessively, she spends her free time relaxing with knitting, needlepoint, video games, or marathoning horror movies with the family.

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New Release Blitz ~ Honor by January Bain (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Honor by January Bain

Book 3 in the Sin City Wolf series

Word Count: 66,315
Book Length: NOVEL
Pages: 255

Genres:

BILLIONAIRE
EROTIC ROMANCE
PARANORMAL
THRILLERS AND SUSPENSE
WERESHIFTERS

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Book Description

Never run from a wolf!

Isadora Champagne is a witch on a dangerous mission—to take down Lucius Luceres. That bad boy alpha billionaire doesn’t deserve to have it all his way. Thinks he can dump her baby sister and get away with it! But now that she’s met the shifter, keeping her heart safe from him is going to take more than the curse she laid on him…it just might cost her a pact with the devil himself.

Lucius of the House of Luceres is an alpha werewolf, secure in his bad-to-the-bone reputation. But when confronted by the beautiful Isadora one fateful night, even he can’t ignore the extreme attraction that instantly ignites between them. But what he hadn’t counted on was how useful her magic gifts can be to the House of Luceres when one of their own goes missing.

Will he be able to set aside the centuries of mistrust between witches and shifters and allow her special brand of courage and caring to heal even the most jaded heart?

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of mild violence, fated mates and references to inadequate parenting.

Excerpt

Lucius

“Look! There’s a halo around the moon tonight, Lucius. You know what that means?” Veronica purred. Her mouth was coated in far too much red lipstick for my liking, though I more than appreciated her luscious body and adventurous spirit.

“What do you think it means?” I asked, not particularly interested in her take on it. I couldn’t imagine the notorious party girl having done much digging into mythology or history.

If I wanted facts, my twin brothers, Maximus and Alexandro, would be the ones I’d call on. One of the things I did like about Veronica’s type though—easy to forget. I didn’t need any complications as enforcer for the House of Luceres beyond those necessary to protect my pack.

“It means something momentous is on its way. Could be good. Or evil. It depends on the intentions of the spirit.” Veronica shivered for effect in a dress that barely covered essentials. She looked up at me, her eyes huge, reflecting not only the light of the roaring bonfire kept alight for the entirety of the Lupercalia festival, but I swear I caught a glimpse of myself.

Easy to look at, I’ve been told. Like all my pack brothers, I kept my GQ looks highlighted with exercise and good grooming. And all the Luceres were blessed with good genetics and lots of money.

The howling of a lone wolf in the distance cut short the woman’s unexpected announcement and I went on high alert. In the desert, on a clear night such as this, sound was deceptive. The interloper could be miles away…or nearby.

I glanced around the firepit, checking out the pack members milling about. Emily, one of the cousins, was dancing with wild abandon. I frowned. Wasn’t she a bit young for this? The festival was notorious for events that would curl a human’s hair. Rumors abounded and things that probably should not happen…happened.

Case in point, headed right toward me was a former one-night stand, her finger pointed at me like she had something to say. Something I was certain I would prefer not to hear. What was her name again? Serena, Simona, Sawyer…

Before it came to me, she was right up in my face. “Lucius Luceres, I got some…thing to say to you you’re not go…ing to like.” She poked at me with a sharp red fingernail, her words slurring and her body language suggesting something vastly different.

“Step back, if you know what’s good for you, cur!” Veronica yelled at her.

“What you go…ing to do about it?”

Right, Simone, one of the more jealous ones. Why was one night never enough for them? Not like I ever promised anything more. I stepped back. Let them have at it. A gorgeous female standing farther from the fire winked at me, her eyes taking in the foolish provocation with obvious interest. I gave her my patented cool-billionaire smile.

She replied with an air kiss, pulling me forward with all the magnetic pull of true north. Just the way I liked it. And man, those curves, highlighted in a tight dress that leaves nothing to the imagination.

“Hey, where are you going?” Veronica quickly noticed my mental desertion…soon to be followed by a physical one.

I turned back and sighed. The two women had each other by the hair. Soon they’d shift, by the look of things. I didn’t want the hassle, but after all, I had caused it, even though they’d both been warned that I never dated.

“Come on, ladies, the festival is almost over. Wouldn’t you rather be having fun than fighting?”

“This is fun! I’m going to beat her ass!” And with that Veronica shed her clothes and shifted, one second vanishing through the otherworldly portal in a shimmer of light, and in the next back again as a blue-eyed gray wolf. It had been explained to me by my scholarly brothers that the dimension was only one of the eleven that create the multiverse. Whatever. I was just satisfied it worked.

I mean, who doesn’t want to be wolf?

One second later, Simone followed Veronica, her leaner and meaner wolf appearing in a flash of light. Of course, she was the more perturbed of the two, giving her the edge. The pair squared off. Simone growled as she lowered her head to bully her opponent, the thick ruff on her spine fully erect.

Instantly, others picked up on the change of energy. Bodies began streaming in from everywhere, surrounding the two females in mere seconds. This was what the pack wanted. Craved. The music shifted, became a louder drumbeat that stirred the blood.

I gave a nonchalant shrug to the gorgeous female on the sidelines watching the antics as if to say, What can I do? Females will be females. She rolled her eyes.

Turning back to the action, I decided not to intervene in the fight, not unless they began to inflict real damage. These kinds of fights could be more about posturing than anything else, useful for ratcheting down minor disagreements and aggressions. Which was why this festival was held in the first place. It allowed pack members time to listen to their wolf, step away from the imposing limits of civilization. Freedom, baby.

But I had apparently misjudged the level of anger and animosity between the pair. Claws and fur flying, they lunged at each other, rolling in the desert sand and sending a blanket of dust into the air.

The crowd roared their approval. Someone had appointed themselves the holder of the bets and numbers were being tossed around the ring like confetti. Eager faces, alight with the excitement I’d imagine rather common to the Colosseum of ancient days, began to holler loudly for their favorite. Seemed that Simone was holding sway, her anger the most apparent to the catcalling crew. Hell, half of them were half undressed now, probably looking to take a turn.

Great, a bloom of blood had appeared on Veronica’s fur. Now I had to shift. Not really a bad thing, as I loved to be wolf. The power, the freedom, the pure sense of being removed from this world—it didn’t get any better.

I shucked my clothing, knowing I was being checked out by the new female. Have at it. I’m choice. I jumped into the fray and in seconds, had Veronica by the scruff of the neck, subjecting her to dominance, forcing her to give over to her alpha. She whined, then lay down. Simone stood on four stiffened paws, her tongue lolling, still defying me.

I flew at her, catching her by the throat, taking her down to the ground. Not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to inflict some pain. She needed to learn her place.

When she gave me proper respect, I let her slink away, then dusted myself off and redressed. The interested female was still watching, and I nodded at her. She sauntered over, her spectacular hips swaying to the rhythmic beat of the snare drum one of the pack members was pounding on, her smile coy.

The crowd clapped and stamped their feet loudly, naked breasts bouncing to the delight of the males who watched with approval, obviously having enjoyed the show. Money was paid out to the victors and backs were slapped. Just another night at the Lupercalia. And mild compared to some events I won’t get into.

“Nice moves,” she said, getting closer enough to pick an imaginary piece of lint from my jacket.

“I aim to please.”

“I take it you’re not worried that a rare witch moon is causing chaos this night?” The new female pointed at the night sky. A dark cloud was now creeping across the luminous surface, lending an even more eerie appearance to proceedings.

Witch moon? Where did you hear that?” A cold finger traced my spine. I shook the odd sensation off. An old wives’ tale.

“Big strong wolf like you—you have nothing to fear.”

Never trust a witch.

The warning from an elderly Italian relative came to mind. Well, not like I had any in my pack or knew of any in my round of acquaintances. And I certainly wouldn’t bed one. Now, the wolf throwing herself at me at the moment, sure.

I’m partial to blondes and easy tail…

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About the Author

January Bain

January Bain has wished on every falling star, every blown-out birthday candle and every coin thrown in a fountain to be a storyteller. To share the tales of high adventure, mysteries, and full-blown thrillers she has dreamed of all her life. The story you now have in your hands is the compilation of a lot of things manifesting itself for this special series. Hundreds of hours spent researching the unusual and the mundane have come together to create a series that features strong women who don’t take life too seriously, wild adventures full of twists and unforeseen turns, and hot complicated men who aren’t afraid to take risks. She can only hope the stories of her beloved Brass Ringers will capture your imagination as much as they did hers when she wrote them.

If you are looking for January Bain, you can find her hard at work every morning without fail in her office with two furry babies trying to prove who does a better job of guarding the doorway. And, of course, she’s married to the most romantic man! Who once famously replied to her inquiry about buying fresh flowers for their home every week, “Give me one good reason why not?” Leaving her speechless and knocking her head against the proverbial wall for being so darn foolish. She loves flowers.

If you wish to connect in the virtual world, she is easily found on Facebook, Twitter and writes a weekly blog about her journey on Blogger. Oh, and she loves to talk books…

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New Release Blitz: Getting Off by J.R. Hart (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Getting Off

Author: J.R. Hart

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 02/08/2022

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 69300

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, romance, contemporary, new adult, family-drama, gay, bisexual, demisexual, questioning, college, sports team

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Description

JJ is certain he’s got everything figured out. He’s straight, right? He’s just not into the hookup culture prevalent on his college soccer team. But he’s trying to hide that to avoid getting on his team captain’s bad side.

Kade is anything but straight. Out and proud, he’s curious about how the “other half” lives… even as his best friends remind him there’s more to the LGBTQ+ community than just the “G.” Curious, Kade texts JJ a simple question: do straight guys ever get off together?

When JJ’s reply leads to a head-spinning sexual spark, he starts questioning everything he knows about his sexuality, both in terms of who he’s attracted to, and also why hookups have never been his thing. But when JJ endures trauma that confuses him more, he starts pushing Kade away. Kade has to learn how to be a supportive friend, and more than that, a supportive partner, or risk losing JJ altogether. And JJ? He has to fight for his team to be team players, even when they suspect he’s “playing for the other team.”

Excerpt

Getting Off
J.R. Hart © 2022
All Rights Reserved

Kade
I want to believe JJ when he tells me straight guys get off together. And I have no reason not to believe him. But still, the whole situation feels strange to me. Straight guys? Getting off together? Blame it on boredom, blame it on my complete willingness to run into a situation headfirst without knowing what I’m getting myself into, but I plan on going.

Because I want so badly to believe. I don’t know why, other than I’m just so damn curious about the whole situation. Call it anthropological. Or call it my intense need to believe some form of porn is actually true. Hell, blame it on an ill-fated crush on a straight jock I’d never have a chance with.

I’ve still got a seed of doubt.

I mean, the whole question came from a questionable situation in the first place: a hookup with someone who says he’s straight. That isn’t uncommon on hookup apps, the kind of guys who say, “It’s not gay to top,” while actively trying to get in a gay guy’s pants, but I don’t have time to unpack all their internalized homophobia or whatever. I’m not going to sit someone down and tell him, “Hey, bro, maybe you’re not straight if the person you’re topping is also a guy.” But my point stands. I had a hookup, he said he was straight, and he mentioned some offhand comment about how straight guys watch porn together.

Which, whatever. I brushed that off at the time. But now it’s been eating at me and worming its way through the back of my mind, and I’ve got two major questions about what he said.

One, how many of his friends are actually straight versus straight in the way he’s straight, and therefore what they’re doing would be an objectively non-straight activity?

And two, is there a chance there are straight guys in the world who watch porn together? Because I believe there are guys who share porn recommendations. I believe guys tell each other that such-and-such girl in such-and-such video is hot and they should check it out. Recommendations, I find entirely plausible. Watch parties? Not so much.

I’d ask my friends, but let’s be real. None of my friends are straight. A lone gay best friend in a pack of straights is the kind of Hollywood wildness that doesn’t seem to happen in real life. You watch movies, or read books, and you’ll see this one gay best friend in a group of a bunch of straight people and I sit there and think, Where’s the actual representation here? Gays clump together. We can’t help it. So, my friend group? Not a good starting point for finding out what The Straights do in their free time.

I have exactly one straight friend I can ask, outside of my roommate, and I’ve never seen my roommate invite anyone over for any reason, let alone to watch porn with them. Which narrows it down to the one straight friend: JJ. And I feel like I can trust JJ, trust what he’s saying is true, but there’s this part of me doubting the whole thing. I can’t picture the scene: a group of guys, watching porn, hands on their dicks…the whole concept is wild to me. From a sociological perspective, I’m absolutely fascinated.

And maybe I’m just being jerked around by my hookup. If I am, this is good information to have. If he’s lying, okay, maybe it won’t necessarily change my behavior, but it’ll make me feel the tiniest bit more satisfied if I know he was lying all along. And now that I’ve reached out to JJ I’m obsessed with the idea.

The thought of men actually doing this? Come on, that’s just the sort of bad porno aesthetic I’m into. It ranks right up there with, “let’s play strip pool before my mom gets home,” or, “I was out jogging in the woods and this hot guy just happened to catch up with me and offer me a bottle of water, and also his dick.” It makes me wonder, what will happen next? The muscular jock sucks the twink off? I’ve seen it a million times, just not in real life, and never with straight guys who would probably never even touch each other. Still, I want to witness it firsthand, or something. I’m craving confirmation.

Which is why I asked JJ. Because I can trust him, because he’s straight, and because he’s disposable. Which sounds really shitty but hear me out. JJ and I aren’t close. I mean, we’re close in that he hosts a good study group, and it’s nice to have a friend in class, but I don’t know him know him. We aren’t BFFs or anything. If this situation were to go horribly wrong, get super awkward, and he felt bad or weird about it after—not that I think anything is going to happen, but I’m not ruling out the possibility—then we don’t have to talk to each other anymore.

Plus, he lives in my building, and I am a slut for convenience. He’s right here, two floors down, and anyway, he’s hot. I mean, abs for days, long limbs, soccer body… I’m not into sports, but they’d almost be worth watching for the way the players strip their jerseys off after a game, mop the sweat off their brow…fuck. If I’m going to watch this kind of scene—from a purely sociological standpoint, mind you—it helps if the guys involved are, you know, aesthetically appealing.

And I can’t ask a stranger. How would I know if a stranger was bullshitting me? And JJ’s not bullshitting me. I don’t think so, anyway. JJ just gives off one of those vibes. Like, trustworthy. Honest. The kind of guy who tells the truth about everything. He doesn’t seem like someone who would fuck with me, you know? And he’s a throwaway. If he got offended by me asking, well, then I haven’t lost a whole lot. He’s a no-lose option. And besides, he didn’t say no. That gives me the confirmation I need: two straight guys—or rather, one straight guy and one guy who claims he’s straight but is on an app designed for gay hookups—have confirmed this for me now. Apparently, straight guys do jerk off together. And apparently, I’m going to get to witness it firsthand. I can’t say I’m not excited.

But confirmation, the words alone, aren’t enough. Not when he’s already offered to let me witness this ridiculous, beautiful event for myself. And I want to. I want to see it so bad. I’m not expecting personal gratification because these are straight guys and straight guys probably watch straight porn, and I also know to keep my hands to myself. But I’m there for sociological reasons. Or, anthropological ones, maybe. But I know JJ from sociology class, and from a sociological perspective…you know. So, I’m going. Art History be damned, because—this once—I can miss that class.

Which is why on Tuesday at two in the afternoon, I’m standing outside JJ’s dorm, knocking. I’ve been here before a couple of times, mostly for study groups, but this is different. There aren’t any textbooks this time, no crowding around his coffee table made out of splintering pallets and an unfinished sheet of plywood. So, I’m standing here, still knocking, wondering what this is going to be like. I’m not sure what to picture, how many guys might be here, or if I’ll even know what to do with myself. After all, I’m only here to observe, but if they’re all sitting there with their dicks out, I’m going to look like an asshole if I’m not doing the same thing. I’m starting to get cold feet about the whole situation, ready to turn around and leave, because am I really about to sit in on a group of straight guys watching porn? The whole situation screams an opportunity for me to basically get hate crimed, and I’m realizing the potential for this to go wrong…except it’s a little late to back out now the door’s opening, and JJ’s standing there in nothing but his boxers.

Also, he’s alone.

I’m not sure how to take that.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

J R Hart is a queer 30-something novelist passionate about telling romantic and erotic stories about LGBT+ characters. When J R isn’t writing, you can find her at the science museum with her son, cheering for her favorite soccer team, or at The Bean Coffee Co plotting her next work. You can find her on Twitter and Instagram as @jrhartauthor, or on her website at jrhartauthor.com.

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Book Blitz: The Devil’s Boyfriend by Alexa Piper (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  The Devil’s Boyfriend

Series: Hellbound 2

Author: Alexa Piper

Publisher: Changeling Press

Release Date: February 4

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 153 pages

Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Mystery, Thriller/Suspense, Action Adventure, Dark Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, Gay, Shapeshifters, Magical Creatures

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Synopsis

Lionel, necromancer and police consultant, finds himself closer to the Devil than he ever wanted to be. But even for a necromancer, life goes on, and murder happens. The next crime scene is just around the corner, and Lionel will do his job… ideally without Lucifer looking over his shoulder.

After a traumatic experience, Lucifer knows he has to protect his necromancer, mostly from the other man’s own stubbornness and ignorance. Lionel is not quite as human as he likes to think, and to Lucifer’s great annoyance, Lionel hasn’t given up on his bad habit of running into situations without thinking.

Lionel doesn’t know how he feels about the Devil, and he doesn’t know what he wants in his life. Lucifer knows what Lionel needs, but getting the necromancer to accept that is the difficult part. And of course, there is murder happening in town, and it is not the boring human-on-human kind of violence. This time around, it looks like immortals are involved. Solving the case will require Lionel to accept who he really is while Lucifer wants his boyfriend to embrace who he truly can be. Lives may depend on it.

Excerpt

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2022 Alexa Piper

The Devil’s body on top of mine, his mouth stealing my breath, his woodfire smoke-and-spices scent all around me — that was not something I ever thought I’d get used to. Yet here I was, Lionel Hawkes, consultant for Brunswick PD and accomplished necromancer, my cock rubbing against Lucifer’s belly and his own erection as he was doing his damnedest to kiss me senseless. My lips were already tender, but the soft lighting dipped his bedroom in an amber glow, and that made me care less about the state of my lips somehow… as long as he kept coming back for more kisses. I wanted to bury my fingers in his baby-cat hair, but Lucifer had my wrists crossed over my head, his hand holding me there. I could struggle, but he wouldn’t let me go. I’d tried that before, and he’d kindly informed me that I got to move my hands when he wanted me to. He fucking owned me.

I bucked up to get more friction and heard his deep voice break into a chuckle that made my entire body tremble.

“Sweet Nelly, is there something that you want from me?” he said with laughter smoothing around his words like warmth around a fire.

That fucking asshole. He knew exactly what I wanted. I wanted to come. He’d put me on my back in his too-large and weirdly round bed with the super-soft cotton sheets about an hour ago, and then he’d started with kisses, with touch, with friction that was just never enough.

“I have work in the morning. I just want to come and go to sleep,” I said. I’d been off for three weeks after that thing with the crazed serial killer, a.k.a. No Longer Quite So Sexy Mitch, who’d drugged and abducted me. But tomorrow was my first day back. “And you seem to have one hand free, so if you would, Lucy?” I looked down to my leaking cock. Damn, my belly was slick from our combined precum.

I wiggled under him, feeling the soft sheets I was lying on. I tried looking away as if this whole lovemaking thing bored me. Lucifer had drawn the curtains, but I didn’t really think they were thick enough to hide what he was doing to me. Obscure it, yes, but if anyone with a daring heart got to his wilderness of a home on this cold-ass November night and peeked up, they’d know exactly what was going on in the Devil’s bed. I’d complained about it two weeks ago. Lucifer had smirked and said, <em>If anyone does dare to come here, they should be rewarded by getting a glimpse of your face, writhing in ecstasy because you have my cock deep inside you. It will serve them well to think of it while I punish them for the transgression</em>. So typical — boisterous Devil-speak.

And that was just so Lucifer, but since the room was partially lit, I saw him pull back and look down at me as if he were a cat and I a canary, caught between his claws with my wings splayed. He wanted to fucking torture me, I could see that in his sapphire eyes. Not actual torture, but he wanted me in a writhing puddle of need, so desperate I begged for his cock.

Heavens knew he’d fucking gotten me into that state before.

Before Lucifer could make another noise, before I could try to get a wrist free to jack myself after all, my phone rang. Lucifer’s eyes darkened. “I told you to turn that off,” he said. He didn’t raise his voice. Lucifer didn’t have to. He was the fucking Devil. His voice carried.

“And I told you I need to be reachable,” I said as the <em>Jaws</em> theme music grew louder. “Let me up, I need to go answer that.”

Of course, the Devil his own damn self didn’t move a fraction of an inch. “You do not need to be reachable when you are in my bed, when I have you and am in the middle of figuring out how exactly I will make you feel me — what exactly I will make you feel once my cock is buried deep in you.”

Oh, damn his stupid sex talk. It got me in entirely the wrong mindset to achieve my current objective — answering the phone. And I would bet a spell he’d stolen that line from one of the countless romance novels he read. There was currently a pile of them near his reading armchair by the window wall. He got up to two or three a day sometimes. That one weekend, when I’d told him I just needed quiet and hot cocoa after escaping the fucking basement a psycho killer had dragged me in to kill me, Lucifer had actually complied. He’d made me sit on the couch in his rich-people house where he let me stream just whatever sappy thing I wanted to watch without comment from him. In fact, Lucifer had refilled my mug with hot cocoa whenever it was empty, and sat there as close as I would allow it like some classical statue, reading through a stack of those damn novels. He had taken a reading break every couple of hours, and his breaks had only consisted of getting me off. If I allowed it.

I had allowed it. “You just read about that in your damn book?” I had asked after he was done with one of his breaks, my naked back pressed against his chest, my spent cock still in his sticky hand.

He bit my earlobe before he answered. “The things I want to do to you, Nelly… They aren’t in any of those books.”

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Meet the Author

Alexa Piper writes steamy romance that ranges from light to dark, from straight to queer. She’s also a coffee addict. Alexa loves writing stories that make her readers laugh and fall in love with the characters in them. Connect with Alexa on Facebook or Instagram, follow her on Twitter or TikTok, and subscribe to her newsletter!

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New Release Blitz ~ The Real Thing by Elizabeth Hollows (Excerpt & Giveaway)

The Real Thing by Elizabeth Hollows

Word Count:  45,813
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 186

Genres:

CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
FAKE RELATIONSHIPS
FRIENDS TO LOVERS
GAY
GLBTQI
MEN IN UNIFORM
VALENTINES

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Book Description

One soldier home from training. Two best friends secretly in love. A plan to fake a romantic Valentine’s weekend. Will it be happiness or heartbreak?

Chad Anderson is a proud soldier with a promising career. He has almost got the perfect life, but for one small snag. Chad has been holding a candle for his best friend since he was seventeen.

Gareth Jenkins lives with him, along with his rescue dog. It’s the perfect arrangement and almost as good as the real thing—but it isn’t the real thing.

To make matters worse, it’s Valentine’s Day, and Chad will be returning from training for the holiday. It would be the ideal time to confess—but it has been nearly ten years. It’s long past the time to say something.

But he isn’t the only one with a candle.

Gareth might be a confident hairdresser with a flirtatious manner and easy-to-love personality, but it doesn’t help him where it counts. Because Gareth’s first love is his sexy soldier best friend, and one of these days, Gareth is sure he’s going to ruin everything with an unwanted kiss.

And if things aren’t bad enough for both of them, Chad comes up with an idea that might spell the end for their secrets. Because, instead of spending Valentine’s alone, he suggests they spend it having the weekend they’ve always wanted.

To do it, they’ll fake being a romantic couple.

When what they want is playing out right in front of them, can both men keep their feelings contained?

Excerpt

On paper, Chad Anderson had the perfect life. He had a promising career in the military. He got along well with his fellow soldiers and the officers at his base. He had good financial stability, which had allowed him to buy a nice home in the suburbs and he had a loving and supportive family and a best friend whom he’d known since high school. His friend even lived with him, looking after the house while he was training or traveling with the army.

Everything seemed ideal. The people who didn’t know him might joke that the only thing missing was a loving wife for him to come home to.

But that was the heart of his problem. He did have someone to come home to, only unlike Chad wished, his best friend was not his spouse.

Gareth Jenkins had been his friend for many years, and despite all Chad’s attempts to stop it, he had fallen thoroughly and completely for the man. He couldn’t even say he’d turned around one day and realized Gareth was everything he’d ever wanted. No, it had started on day one.

They’d never really shared the same social circles in high school. In fact, they could have gone without ever speaking two words to each other if Chad hadn’t been leaving late one afternoon and found the shorter, scrawny teenager being cornered by bullies.

Chad had immediately leaped into the fray to protect the smaller teen. He’d already been training to prepare for the army, and despite being outnumbered, the other boys had stood no chance. Once they’d fled, he’d turned to Gareth and offered a hand. Gareth had flashed a bright, grateful smile, and Chad’s stomach had twisted and developed butterflies.

He hadn’t known it at the time, but that had been it for him.

At seventeen, Chad had blamed his pounding heart on the fight. He’d mumbled about Gareth staying safe before leaving the scene. The next day, Gareth had been waiting out front of the school. He’d thanked Chad again and hung around talking to him.

Almost overnight, they’d become close.

Chad had started spending all his spare moments with Gareth, his crush growing until it was a constant warm feeling under his skin. But Chad had wanted to bury his head in the sand. He hadn’t wanted a crush, especially not on another guy. He’d struggled to accept it for a long time, but the tipping point had been Gareth confessing a crush on someone in his class.

Gareth had admitted it on the way home from school. He’d been nervous but trying not to show it as he came out about his sexuality and infatuation. Chad had felt his stomach drop and his heart crack. It had left him with the knowledge that Gareth liked guys, but didn’t like him.

Chad had gone home and taken to his punching bag with vigor, trying to work out his pain and anger. His mother had found him, and with a few careful words, had prompted him to spill his truth.

To this day, Chad still appreciated that. She had pulled him into a hug, uncaring of the sweat coating his body. She’d accepted him without a moment’s pause.

Six months later, he’d scrabbled together enough confidence to tell the rest of his family and Gareth. But by that point, Gareth was already dating his crush, and Chad had taken to burying his feelings. He’d focused all his attention on the military and sworn that to walk into his new career with all his focus, he’d have to do it without a boyfriend by his side.

Nine years later and recently turned twenty-six, Chad was still repeating the same thing. He used it like a mantra to try to forget what he felt and explain why he didn’t date anyone.

The handsome gay lawyer in the corner? He wasn’t interested because he didn’t have the time.

Gareth’s last boyfriend? Chad didn’t like him because he’d looked down his nose at Gareth’s hairdressing career.

Advertise for a roommate? Why would he do that when Gareth was struggling to find a place to stay, and they could just share?

But denial only went so far. After long years in and out of training, surrounded by men and women who had all accepted the grim truth about the uncertainty of war, he realized the only person being fooled was him.

He’d spent close to ten years falling in love with his best friend. It now left a continuous but familiar ache over his heart. Most of the time, he could cope with it. Even coming home to Gareth’s bright smile after long months away didn’t strain his control.

But for the first time since they’d started living together, Chad worried. Normally, returning home from training was the highlight. He was eager to see his best friend and return to the ease and relaxation of civilian living.

But he was going to be home for Valentine’s Day.

If that weren’t problematic enough, for the first time in years they were both single and would be spending the weekend together.

It could have been the perfect set-up. He’d only need to admit what he felt, and the life he wanted could be at his fingertips.

But you’ve had nine years plus of hesitation. Do you really think the risk is any better now?

Chad didn’t.

He’d run his fair share of scenarios about him and Gareth. He’d lie awake in bed at the base, thinking about his best friend’s smile and trying to imagine how the man would take his open-hearted confession. Chad had rarely finished the scenarios to the end. It always took a turn for the worst. He wasn’t interested in spending his downtime crafting new ways to break his heart.

But he didn’t want Gareth dragging him to a club on the most romantic day of the year, either. Gareth often messaged him while he was away, regaling him on the nightlife and dating disasters he’d gone through in Chad’s absence.

Gareth wasn’t a party animal, but he easily attracted people into his orbit. People wanted him at their gatherings. He would always have a funny story to tell and never minded being the butt of the joke. Chad believed Gareth could make the sun shine on a rainy day just by smiling at the clouds.

It was something Chad could appreciate after the strict, intense environment he’d come from. Gareth made the first twenty-four hours easier, and his friend always tried to have the day off to spend it with him.

This time, he was arriving in the afternoon. Chad had taken a taxi from the airport, having persuaded Gareth that he didn’t need a lift. He felt certain that if he became swept up in the emotion of an airport greeting, he’d do something foolish like kiss Gareth. A taxi ride was safer. It gave him time to calm his thoughts.

When he arrived outside the house, he paid the driver and grabbed his bag. He stood on the pavement admiring his two-story home. The lawn had been recently mowed and there wasn’t a fleck of scratched paint or a curtain out of place. Gareth often joked he was the perfect househusband. Chad had never remarked on the subject. Just because he agreed, it didn’t mean he wanted to imagine Gareth maintaining a home for anyone else.

Walking up the path to the front door, he smiled at the sight of the open garage door. He could see their cars as if they were waiting for him to return. Gareth’s was a simple red Subaru while his was a silver Toyota pickup.

He reached the front door and could already hear the excited barking from Gareth’s rescue dog. Gareth had been volunteering at a local animal shelter when he’d fallen in love with her. He’d sent Chad a picture of them both looking up at the camera with puppy-dog eyes. He’d agreed within moments of reading the text about her needing a good home.

Grinning at the familiar, joyful sounds, he dropped his bag, braced his legs and opened the unlocked door. Helga was on him in a moment. He laughed as the two-year-old German Shepherd’s weight hit him full force. She was up on her hind legs, her front ones on his chest as she tried to lick his face.

“Hey, girl,” he greeted fondly. “I’ve missed you, too.”

He heard footsteps over her excited yipping.

“I’ve heard it’s nice to come home to a good woman,” Gareth teased.

Chad didn’t stop running his hands over her head, but he flicked his gaze up to find Gareth leaning against the doorframe. He was in low-slung blue jeans, barefoot, wearing a faded green shirt. His brunet hair was artfully blow-dried and brushed back from his face. He had in his familiar nose ring rather than the diamond stud he sometimes wore.

He looked gorgeous. The perfect sight to come home to.

“I’d rather it be a good man,” Chad replied, “especially one who makes dinner.”

Gareth laughed. “Luckily, I have been well taught by my fabulous grandmother. Lasagna is already in the oven.”

Chad smiled. He gave Helga one more firm pat before gently pushing her off him. She complied but looked unhappy about it. Chad walked around her to greet his friend. Gareth pushed off the doorframe, and Chad wrapped an arm around him, pulling him into a hug. Chad closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment that truly meant home to him. He breathed in Gareth’s floral hair products and felt Gareth hug him back tightly.

His fellow soldiers pulled him into hearty backslaps and friendly embraces, but Gareth hugged with his entire being. He leaned completely against Chad and seemed unwilling to let him go. It often felt as if Gareth missed him just as much.

But since he was the only one hopelessly in love, he knew it was only wishful thinking.

All too soon, the hug broke, due to Helga’s persistent whining and the snout she tried to shove between their bodies. She also scratched his leg with her paw. Chad pulled away but kept one arm around his friend. He looked down at the enthusiastic German Shepherd. She was jet black all along her spine, the top of her head and her ears. Her chest and legs were a light brown, like sand. She was a beautiful dog, and he still couldn’t believe someone had so callously abandoned her. After he held out his hand, she bumped it with her nose, and he ruffled the top of her head.

Gareth sighed, and Chad glanced over. He was sending Helga a mock glower.

“You know, when I adopted her, I didn’t realize I’d become second place to my best friend.”

Chad chuckled. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

Gareth snorted. “Bullshit. I could leave for a week, and she’d barely notice I’d returned unless I had dog bones.”

Shaking his head, Chad removed his arm from Gareth. He snatched up his rucksack, and when he straightened, Gareth had stepped inside, giving him a clear path into the house. Helga followed so close that she almost pressed against his leg. The living room was immaculate, just as Chad had expected. They were both fussy with presentation. Chad had developed the discipline almost instinctively as a part of his training and Gareth was just naturally tidy.

“Here… Pass me that,” Gareth said, holding out his arm. “I can start a load of washing.”

“Thanks,” Chad said, handing his pack over.

It was almost routine at this point. Gareth would head to the laundry, leaving him to spend a few minutes reacquainting himself with the quiet and familiarity of home. Chad wandered through the living room, noticing a few new books that Gareth had bought. He picked one up, unsurprised to find it was a romance novel. There were a few new chew toys for Helga. Otherwise, apart from a few small rearrangements of items, nothing had changed.

The kitchen was off the living room with the laundry farther down the way, along with a bathroom. Upstairs had another bathroom and three bedrooms. Gareth’s room was to the left of the stairs, his was to the right while the middle rooms were the bathroom and one filled with gym equipment for him to keep up with his training.

Breathing in the scent of cooking lasagna, Chad closed his eyes and enjoyed all the sounds that spoke of home—the birdsong, the occasional sound of a passing car and the low hum of the TV from whatever Gareth had been watching before he’d arrived.

Yet, despite feeling grateful for the reprieve, Chad didn’t feel like spending time without Gareth. He opened his eyes and followed the path Gareth had taken to the laundry. Helga was at his heels the entire time. When he reached the door, he found Gareth muttering under his breath as he pulled out clothing and sorted it into two piles.

One was for his civilian clothes and his simpler pieces, like his tan shirts. The rest needed a separate wash and a more thorough checking of pockets and removal of Velcro. The latter always took a lot longer, and he’d tried to insist he could do it, but Gareth had always taken on the job since moving in.

It was one more way Gareth acted like that joked-about ‘househusband’. The sight always had Chad’s heart flaring with warmth. It was above and beyond what Gareth needed to do as a friend, but Chad wouldn’t stop him when it felt so nice.

When Gareth gave one of the shirts a cautious sniff, it was the perfect opportunity to announce his presence.

“I do wash my clothing while I’m gone,” Chad remarked.

Gareth looked over his shoulder, seeming surprised by his presence, before smiling.

“You mean it’s not just a bunch of sweat-slicked army men wrestling on the ground half naked?”

“Sorry to spoil your fantasies,” Chad drawled.

Gareth sighed loudly. “And the romance novels made it seem so realistic.”

Chad shook his head. He also crouched down to help Gareth with the sorting. There was an immediate problem when Helga tried to shove her nose in the way. Gareth laughed and ended up batting away Chad’s hands.

“I can handle a bit of sorting. You make sure Helga doesn’t rip something in her enthusiasm.”

Lowering to the floor, he put his back to the wall and spread out his legs. Helga immediately dropped between them. Her paw went over his thigh, along with her head. He patted her soothingly while keeping his gaze on Gareth.

The man was always a sight to behold, even while doing something so mundane as filling the washing machine. Chad itched to touch his friend. He wanted to slide a hand over his back, cup his neck and gently duck in to steal his lips for a kiss.

He wanted the soft sweetness of greeting his lover with a tender embrace.

Many of his fellow soldiers had joked or bragged about their plans to return home to their wives or girlfriends and make up for lost time. They had been without sex for too long and wanted to get their spouses on the first available surface.

Chad wanted Gareth. He couldn’t deny it. He’d spent lonely nights guiltily fantasizing about his friend. Chad had also woken up from too many dreams where he’d taken his aching cock in hand. He’d closed his eyes and muffled his groans with his pillow, desperate to keep from moaning his friend’s name.

But for all that he wanted to strip Gareth bare and take his time learning Gareth’s body and making him moan, it was the softer moments he craved when he came home from training. A bright smile, a tender kiss…

It was what would make Valentine’s Day all the harder to get through. It was the day of lovers, secret admirers and showing exactly how much you loved someone. Gareth might read ridiculous romance novels, but Chad was the one who wanted to buy his partner flowers and hold the door for him when they went out to dinner.

“Are you zoning out on me?” Gareth questioned.

Chad jerked from his thoughts to find Gareth watching him with amusement.

“Do you need a nap before we eat?”

“I’m fine,” Chad denied. “Thinking.”

“Uh-huh,” Gareth said, throwing the last of Chad’s civilian clothes in the wash. “Well, since we’re looking at things to wash.”

He sent Chad a pointed look. Chad glanced down at his clothes. They weren’t that dirty, but Chad knew it for the routine it was. Normally, he had a shower and changed out of anything relating to the army. It allowed him to relax entirely, as if he were washing away his training.

He hoped it would help him get his head back into the game. Weeks away from Gareth always made him maudlin and prone to wishing for things he didn’t have. He couldn’t afford to stay in the same headspace. There couldn’t be anymore fantasies about Gareth naked—or about cuddling and kissing him the way a partner would.

He had to return to best-friend mode. The shower was the best way to start.

“Good idea,” he said.

He had to shake his leg and push Helga gently away. Chad ignored her betrayed look and stood. He stretched, feeling his muscles pull pleasantly. When he lowered his arms, he looked down at his friend. Gareth was still kneeling on the floor. Chad couldn’t ignore the connotations of their positions, and he swallowed. He wanted to cup Gareth’s cheek and thumb at his perfect lips. Maybe draw him close so Gareth’s hands could rest on his thighs before unbuttoning his pants.

Chad turned away forcibly.

“Back in ten,” he said, keeping his voice level.

He left the laundry with measured steps. He still felt rattled. It wasn’t what normally happened on returning home. It was always hard, and he never stopped wanting Gareth, but he felt more on edge than usual.

It’s Valentine’s Day soon. It’s never a good time. You always spend it thinking about Gareth.

Climbing the stairs with heavy limbs. Chad knew better than to deny the truth. He’d spent too much of his youth burying what he felt for Gareth. But he’d admitted it long ago. He was in love, and the most romantic day of the year was going to hit him hard.

You’ve survived nine years. Don’t blow your cover, soldier.

Stiffening his shoulders, Chad reached the landing and turned down the hall to his room. He opened the door to find nothing was out of place. The window was open but there wasn’t any dust. He knew Gareth routinely gave his room a cleaning while he was gone. It was why he never left out anything incriminating about his feelings.

Opening his chest of drawers, he pulled out some of his most comfortable house clothes. As he did, heavy paws hit the stairs. Whatever Gareth had done to keep Helga at bay had failed. She pushed into his room, her tail wagging. He grinned and gave her another pat.

She trailed after him easily as he went toward the bathroom. He paused by the door, blocking the path.

“Sorry, girl,” he apologized.

You’re not the one I’d be inviting in here…if I could.

Shutting the door quickly, but carefully, he locked her out. She immediately scratched at the wood. When it didn’t illicit the right response, she gave a mournful whine. Chad put his clothes on the basin, chuckling at the assortment of haircare products taking up most of the space. He knew Gareth’s many accessories and devices would fill the drawers.

By comparison, he had a toothbrush, shaving cream, a razor and deodorant. Despite the avalanche of objects, Chad wouldn’t have it any other way. He opened one cream and took a small sniff. It was like pressing against Gareth’s hair.

Once, at his first posting, Chad had almost stolen one of Gareth’s jars of haircare products, wanting something to remind him of home. It had been a ridiculous flight of fancy, and he was glad he’d never done it, but he couldn’t help checking the products every now and again. They always brought a smile to his lips and sent a wave of fondness through him.

Putting the tub back where he’d found it, Chad turned on the shower’s hot water and stripped from his clothes. Helga continued to huff and whine at the bathroom door. Chad knew she’d either leave or Gareth would drag her downstairs.

The familiarity and sense of family was everything he’d tried not to miss while away on training, but now that he was back, he could let it seep into his bones. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t perfect and that Gareth would never be his life partner. If this was as close as he ever got, Chad would be happy.

Because despite the imperfections, this was still home, and he was glad to be back.

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About the Author

Elizabeth Hollows

Elizabeth Hollows is an Australian writer of LGBT love stories specializing in homosexual or lesbian romance.

Her preferred genres are fantasy, science fiction and contemporary/modern.

She has been writing since she was twelve, but has spent the last few years writing romance stories and discovering a passion for LGBT romance.

When Elizabeth is not writing she embroiders, reads and plots her next novel. She is a fan of the winter months and always has a book in her handbag and a cup of tea nearby.

You can find Elizabeth at her website here

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New Release Blitz: Luck Lines by Quinn Tollens (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Luck Lines

Author: Quinn Tollens

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 02/01/2022

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 19900

Genre: Fantasy, LGBTQIA+, Romance, fantasy, family-drama, magical realism, lesbian, luck, visual/performing arts, painter, musician

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Description

Every person is born with a line of luck on their arm that they can spend to bribe fate in their favor. Spend it wisely and the doors to success will open. Spend it foolishly and you’ll be shunned as a reckless blank-arm.

At age twenty-three, Helena has never spent a single inch of luck, for fear of ending up like her gambling brother. She’s never needed luck though. So far, her life has unfolded perfectly as planned, with her plush apartment, prestigious job, and parental approval. But then Helena develops inconvenient feelings for the mysterious, blank-armed Nadia who works in the office next door.

Nadia is brilliant and confident and absolutely hiding something. Helena wants to love her, but she has a hard time trusting someone whose priorities are so different from her own. Can Helena make this relationship work, or will she rue the day she took a risk on romance?

Excerpt

Luck Lines
Quinn Tollens © 2022
All Rights Reserved

When Helena was eleven years old, she watched her older brother burn his entire luck line.

She’d recently come home from boarding school for the summer. Her parents were busy on a work trip, much to her disappointment, so Michael was the only person around to babysit her. One day, while Helena was lounging around the house in a puddle of self-pity, Michael asked if she wanted to go see some ponies.

Of course, she’d said yes—she was an eleven-year-old with a dozen cowgirl posters in her dorm room. And, of course, there had been a catch—her brother was a recently graduated eighteen-year-old with his own car. He wouldn’t take Helena anywhere unless he absolutely had to.

“This isn’t a farm, Mikey,” Helena said accusingly. A proper stable would be a cute wooden shed beside a grassy valley where the horses could frolic and graze. This place was an ugly yellow box squatting in an endless parking lot.

“I said we were going to watch horses. I didn’t say from what distance. Don’t complain.”

As they approached the building, the thick scent of manure grew stronger, and a racket of clapping and shouting bled out of the walls. Her brother dragged her through a crowd of sweaty adults to the ticket counter inside.

A bored teller glanced at the pair: first Helena, with her tight braid and glitter jeans, then Michael, with his long bangs and baggy T-shirt. The man drawled, “Sorry, kids. We can’t take bets from minors.”

“I’m eighteen. And she’s not betting.” Michael opened his wallet to reveal a wad of twenty-dollar bills. How many allowances had he saved to get that much? “Race number twenty-three, two hundred dollars to win on Gravy.”

“Bold choice.” The teller slid Michael a form. “You understand the rules, yeah? You’re allowed to spend as much of your luck line as you want, but—”

“You’re not liable for anything. I know, I know.” Her brother signed the paper, grabbed his ticket, and led Helena to the bleachers.

Since it was a weekday, there were barely a hundred people in the stands, so the siblings had most of the row to themselves. Helena and Michael looked through the list of horses on his ticket. Gravy was scheduled for the next race.

Gravy did not look like a winner. He had a brindle coat with sickly gray spots. Helena pitied the poor horse as he was trotted to the starting line.

She was so busy worrying about the horses that she almost didn’t see her brother roll up his left sleeve. His luck line’s crimson hue contrasted sharply with his skin. It started at his wrist bone, then curled round and round the arm until it reached his elbow.

Like Helena, Michael still had all twenty inches of line he’d received at birth. But her line coiled tightly to squeeze itself within her forearm, while his line had stretched out with him during puberty. Michael slowly traced the length of his luck line with a forefinger, never letting his skin break contact.

Unease shivered up her neck. “Mikey, what are you doing?”

“A dumpy horse like that needs some help if he’s going to win.”

A gun went off. The horses galloped forward. Michael nudged his forefinger an inch up his arm. The bright-red mark faded into his skin. Gravy pushed his way to the front until he was head-to-head with a black horse named Lotus.

“But Mom and Dad say we’re only supposed to spend our luck line for important things, like college or job interviews or—”

“I need the money,” Michael snapped. He burned another inch of luck line to push Gravy into the lead.

“Why?” When her brother didn’t answer, she took her cell phone out of her purse. “Tell me why or I’m calling Mom and Dad.”

Michael winced. Helena would follow through on her threat, and they both knew it. “I…Iris is having a baby.”

Helena gasped. Michael’s girlfriend was the one who had bought Helena her first grown-up paint set. She was quiet and bookish and had a scholarship to Dunestown University. Why would she ruin her future by getting pregnant now? Helena could understand Michael screwing up, but Iris was supposed to be the responsible one.

A wave of cheers rolled through the stadium as a horse called Duke took the lead. The cream stallion cut in front of the competition. His tail flicked Gravy in the face.

Michael grimaced. “How? Two inches should be more than enough to win at this trash heap of a track.”

“Duke! Duke! Duke!” Six men stood up from their seats a couple of rows down. They held their left arms above their heads, showing off to the crowd as they burned through their luck lines in unison. Individually, their luck lines were embarrassingly short, barely three inches each. But if all six of them were pulling fate in Duke’s favor…

“Damn it, they must be planning to split the winnings.” Michael dug his finger into his skin and pushed down the line.

“Mikey, it’s not worth it!” Helena tried to pull his finger off the line. He elbowed her away. She watched in horror as he burned through four inches, eight inches, sixteen inches. Soon an entire lifetime of luck was gone.

Down on the track, Duke stumbled over a rock. The poor horse tumbled onto his side, spilling the jockey off his saddle. As Duke picked himself up, Gravy raced into the lead. He curved around the track, sprinting toward the finish line.

Michael leaned forward. “Come on, come on, come on!”

Gravy only had twenty feet to go when Lotus barreled past him to victory.

“No!” Michael fell to the filthy stadium floor. He took his finger off his skin to see the damage. His expression made it clear he’d burned more than he’d planned. He took his palm and rubbed his arm, as if he could somehow undo his mistake. “No, no, no…”

An elderly couple strutted up the stairs. The husband and wife each held the corner of a ticket. They carried the paper like it was a fragile gemstone. It wasn’t unusual for elderly people to be blank-armed, but Helena suspected the couple had burned their luck lines rather recently. Someone must have bet on Lotus, after all.

Michael sobbed by her feet. Helena felt bad for her brother, but at the same time, she had warned him. Now he’d lost two hundred dollars and his luck line with nothing to show for it.

Helena looked down at her own arm. Her luck line was still red and untouched—she wouldn’t be able to activate it until puberty—but it felt warm, as if all the luck burning around her would catch her arm on fire. She rolled down her jacket sleeves and put as much space between herself and her brother as she could.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Quinn Tollens lives in the land of corn, cows, and tornados. They started writing romance as a distraction from the doom and gloom of quarantine and forgot to stop. Quinn’s day job revolves around science, and so when they write, their imagination refuses to obey the laws of physics, biology, or common sense.

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New Release Blitz ~ His True Heart by Samantha Cayto (Excerpt & Giveaway)

His True Heart by Samantha Cayto

Word Count: 33,436
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 125

Genres:

 EROTIC ROMANCE
GAY
GLBTQI
MEN IN UNIFORM
VALENTINES

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Book Description

The heart always knows the way.

Chris Novak is adjusting to his lieutenant being the first openly gay SEAL. Seeing the man’s obvious love for his husband gives Chris ideas—ones he has ruthlessly suppressed his whole life. Becoming a SEAL was his dream. Having the love and approval of his father remains critical to him. Acknowledging his sexual orientation would have jeopardized both. While the military has evolved, Chris fears that his father’s views have not.

Tanner Pac has been openly out and proud since high school, with his family embracing him as he is. He knows being gay is not a problem, but his dream of becoming a software engineer is. His parents expect him to carry on the family business of running a pizza parlor. He dares not disappoint them, fearing a loss that would crush him.

While visiting his father on leave, Chris goes out for pizza, not expecting to run into his old girlfriend’s annoying little brother. They could never ditch Tanner and now that he is all grown up, Chris finds he no longer wants to. Facing the strong temptation that Tanner presents is causing Chris to also face the truth about himself.

As Chris and Tanner struggle to meet their parents’ expectations, their attraction for each other cannot be denied. Their strength and courage grow in each other’s arms, but it may not be enough to break free of the weight of family expectations.

Excerpt

“Man, the way the lieutenant’s reunion is going, I’m not sure they’ll make it home. Know what I mean?”

Petty Officer First Class Christopher Novak did indeed know what his teammate meant. Scott Carpenter’s husband had jumped into his arms the second he’d seen Scott coming through the gates. At the moment, the guy’s legs were wrapped around Scott’s waist, and the two of them were going to pass out from lack of oxygen if that kiss didn’t end soon.

“Yeah, but we shouldn’t be staring. It’s not like they’re animals in a zoo.”

His teammate, Diego, had no filter. “I hear you, only it’s like…when have you ever seen a SEAL kiss another man? It’s a first for me.”

Chris slung his duffel bag over his shoulder. “It’s a first for everyone, and Scott’s already on the receiving end of some nasty reactions. We don’t need to add to them.” He walked away, breaking his gaze from the sight. He hadn’t been able to make the wedding the previous summer, so this was the first time he’d seen Scott in such an obviously sexual way with his husband. He couldn’t bear to watch, not because it disgusted him but because it was compelling in a way that disturbed him.

Diego stepped up to his side. “Wanna grab a drink? I’d like to find some female company myself, and I hear The Anchor has added a new heat level to their wings.”

Chris shook his head. “Sorry… I’ve got laundry to do, then hitting the rack. I have an early flight to Detroit in the morning.”

Diego groaned. “Seriously? Why are you so keen on freezing your balls off after what we just went through? I need a few days in the sun to thaw out.”

“I’m overdue visiting my father. If you think you can convince him to move away from his hometown, his extended family and the proximity of my mother’s grave and come to San Diego, have at it.” There was more bite to his words than he’d intended. Visiting his father always triggered conflicting feelings in him. Obviously, he loved the man, but the strain of meeting his expectations was beginning to wear on him.

“Dude, I’m sorry. I was only joking.”

Chris flashed him a smile. “It’s fine. I know you were. I’m tired, that’s all. Have fun tonight, and I expect a full report on how it goes with both the wings and the women.”

He peeled off when they reached his truck. As he tossed in his duffel and slid behind the wheel, he reminded himself that spending his leave with his father was a good thing. They would talk shop, as much as legally permitted, watch sports and pretend that everything was great—because it was, damn it all. There was no reason to believe otherwise. And yet, the vision of Scott devouring his husband’s mouth in front of God and everyone stuck in his mind, no matter how hard he tried to shake it away.

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About the Author

Samantha Cayto

Samantha Cayto is a Boston-area native who practices as a business lawyer by day while writing erotic romance at night—the steamier the better. She likes to push the envelope when it comes to writing about passion and is delighted other women agree that guy-on-guy sex is the hottest ever.

She lives a typical suburban life with her husband, three kids and four dogs. Her children don’t understand why they can’t read what she writes, but her husband is always willing to lend her a hand—and anything else—when she needs to choreograph a scene.

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