Dec 21

New Release Blitz: Grounded by K.R. Collins (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Grounded

Series: Sophie Fournier, Book 6

Author: K.R. Collins

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 12/21/2021

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 76000

Genre: Contemporary Sports, “LGBTQIA+, contemporary, sports, family-drama, demisexual, bisexual, ice hockey, teammates, coach, injury”

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Description

Sophie’s coach was fired over the summer but not before he took several parting shots at Sophie’s character and dedication to her sport and her team. Her coach’s firing, her own injury, and her team’s whimpering exit from the playoffs weren’t the ideal way to end a season, but Sophie’s looking forward to a fresh start.

If Sophie is on the ice, everything makes sense. She can navigate a new coach, she can handle a strained relationship with Elsa, and she can breathe hope back into her franchise.

An unprecedented hot start to the season sees Sophie breaking NAHL records. She has her sights set on Bobby Brindle’s point streak record, the one she fell short of breaking in her rookie season. With personal success comes team success, and Concord has a resurgence on the back of Sophie’s accomplishments.

And then she’s injured. She has to spend the rest of the season on the sidelines, and it forces her to confront a question she has never considered before. Who is Sophie Fournier when she isn’t playing hockey?

Excerpt

Grounded
K.R. Collins © 2021
All Rights Reserved

End of an era?

Sophie Fournier is no stranger to the heralding of the end of her hockey career. People have tried to tear her down since she first put on skates, but none of them have succeeded. Even though it was Coach Butler who was fired and tossed out of Concord, it’s her career everyone claims is over.

Oh, the articles mention the Maple Cup she won, but they refer to it as if it happened two decades ago. As if it wasn’t just a few seasons ago and a historic moment for the sport. It was the first Maple Cup in Concord’s history, and she captained her team to victory and became the first woman to lift hockey’s greatest trophy.

None of the articles mention the International Hockey Tournament win from last February. There, she captained Team Canada to a win on the international stage. Does everyone believe her talent evaporated between then and now?

She was injured in the tournament, and she never fully healed, because her team needed her and her coach demanded her presence. With the season over, she will heal, and she’ll return next season better than she’s ever been.

End of an era.

Fuck. That.

When there are competing voices in the locker room, no one wins.

I’m looking forward to the opportunity to coach a team with the toughness and endurance to succeed at the end of a long season.

Sophie reads every article Butler is quoted in, and she watches every clip from his exit interviews. She swears at her computer and shakes her fist at the TV and excises the worst of her temper before she sits for the interviews Mary Beth, Concord’s PR manager, arranges for her to do in response.

It’s important for the coach and the captain to be on the same page.

No, shit. Sophie was on Butler’s page. For much longer than she should have been. She knows a divided team doesn’t make it far, and she knows how stubborn Butler is. There was no middle to meet in because he wouldn’t budge. By being on his page, she lost Elsa.

Elsa Nyberg is Sophie’s teammate. She was Sophie’s winger, when Butler didn’t split their line, she was Sophie’s alternate until Butler stripped the A from her jersey. She was Sophie’s roommate until, furious Sophie sided with Butler over her, she moved in with her boyfriend.

She’s still Sophie’s best friend, and Sophie will repair their relationship this season. With a fresh season ahead of them, Elsa will move back. With a new coach behind the bench, they’ll be reunited on the top line. The only reason Sophie couldn’t hold the team together at the end of last season was because her injury in the IHT kept her off the ice.

It was Butler’s fault she was hurt. He was behind Team USA’s bench at the IHT, and he gave his heavy hitters the green light to take runs at her. It was Anthony Sinclair who took her out, but it was done with Butler’s blessing. She still beat Team USA, and Butler didn’t forgive her for it, even once they were back in Concord with the same condor stitched onto all their gear.

With Sophie on injured reserve, he set about breaking the team next. He killed their confidence, insulted their hockey IQ, and took a group of highly motivated athletes and made them dread coming to the rink every day. She knows the start of this upcoming season will be spent undoing the damage he caused. She doesn’t know how long it will take or if there will be any long-standing consequences.

She wishes time would speed up and it was August already. She doesn’t want a summer to linger over everything that went wrong. She wants to dig in and fix it.

Instead, she sits for interviews, and smiles, bland and boring, as she answers stupid questions with even stupider, scripted answers. This isn’t what she’s meant for. She’s meant to be on the ice, with skates on her feet and a stick in her hands.

She wishes she could ditch her media responsibilities. She wishes she could answer truthfully, with all the fury she uses when she’s alone in her room.

She can’t do either of those things, so she does the next best one.

She goes to Wisconsin.

“I didn’t think you’d show.” Lexie picks Sophie up from the airport. Even with the obnoxiously large sunglasses which cover half her face, Lexie manages to project derision.

Alexis Engelking is the American forward who went fourth overall at her draft. It’s easy to remember; fourth woman drafted fourth overall. She even made it her number, but she did it out of spite, not pride. She’s a woman who runs on spite, always dialed up to eleven, the perfect foil to Sophie’s bland Canadian personality.

Sophie doesn’t hate her the way the media wishes she would, but she doesn’t particularly like her either. Lexie’s made it her mission to not be Sophie, which means constant attacks from someone Sophie hoped to be an ally.

Still, Lexie extended an offer to train together this summer. Sophie knows there will be plenty of competition. And she could use a little spite in her summer.

“I told you I would,” Sophie answers. She has a pair of sunglasses of her own and a Boston Red Sox cap she wears with the brim tipped low. Lexie promised her discreet summer training, a break from the media vultures who want to pick at the mess Butler left in his wake.

Sophie trusts they won’t be bothered here, if only because Lexie has her own reasons for being left alone this summer. Indianapolis, Lexie’s NAHL team, made it all the way to the Maple Cup Finals. It all came down to Game Seven. It took triple overtime, but the Boston Barons were victorious over the Indianapolis Renegades.

Chad Kensington, one of Lexie’s teammates, picked up the nickname Mr. OT, because he scored three OT series-winners throughout the playoffs. He closed out each round right up until the finals. He couldn’t get it done when it mattered, and Indianapolis ended their season without the Maple Cup, the same as every other team in the North American Hockey League, except for Boston.

Lexie isn’t the captain, but she and Kensington share the responsibility for being the face of the franchise. The media, happy to build up the duo during the season and the playoffs, is even happier to tear into them with the loss.

So yeah, Lexie’s equally motivated for a quiet, intense summer training session.

Sophie isn’t sure she has another hill left in her. Her quads are tight, her calves burn, and her shirt is soaked through with sweat. Now is as good a time to stop as any.

Lexie’s hair sticks up in every direction, the short strands wet from sweat and the water Lexie splashed on her face three hills ago. Her face is red with exertion. She wipes her face on her equally sweaty arm and casts a challenging look in Sophie’s direction. “I bet I beat you on this next one.”

Sophie takes inventory of her body again. She matches Lexie’s grin. “Loser buys lunch.”

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Meet the Author

K.R. Collins went to college in Pennsylvania where she learned to write and fell in love with hockey. When she isn’t working or writing, she watches hockey games and claims it’s for research. Find K.R. on Twitter.

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Dec 21

New Release Blitz: Plague and Ash by Sita Bethel (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Plague and Ash

Author: Sita Bethel

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 12/21/2021

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 69300

Genre: Paranormal, LGBTQIA+, Magic, magic users, interspecies, mythical creatures, zombies, undead, plague, farming, hurt/comfort, illness, disease

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Description

Sarah only went to Oreburn University of Incantations so her parents would stop asking her when she’d settle down. However, after a strange plague decimates her hometown, Sarah finds herself fleeing with the undead chasing her.

As she escapes, she meets Brighid, a half orc noble, and together, they must reach Oreburn before the undead can overrun the city. Sarah discovers a decay sorcerer created the original curse, and only a wizard powerful enough to destroy him can end the plague.

But now they have to find that wizard.

Excerpt

Plague and Ash
Sita Bethel © 2021
All Rights Reserved

Something woke me. I blinked at the morning light peeking through the curtains and cutting rectangles onto the ceiling. Only a corner of the quilt draped over my legs while the rest twisted beside me. I must’ve been thrashing in my sleep again. I hadn’t slept well since I’d come home for harvest break, too worried. After slinging my feet over the edge of the bed, I tucked them into my house shoes to avoid the chilly wooden floor. I heard Mama coughing in the kitchen. The acrid smoke smacked me in the face as soon as I left my room. I waved my hand around my nose.

“Mama?”

“Burned the damn sausage. Did the smoke wake you?” Mama scraped four burnt discs out of her cast iron skillet and into the scrap bowl, but I was sure Buttermilk wouldn’t touch them.

“The coughing,” I admitted.

“Don’t worry, Sarah. It’s the smoke, nothing else. Pops and I have been drinking elderberry juice, and once we’ve harvested all the crops, we’ll hole up through the winter and wait for this to blow over.”

“Biscuits.” I rushed to the oven, using a dish rag to pull out the tin pan before they burned with the sausage.

“Sorry, my mind’s elsewhere.”

“I can help you and Pops harvest if you’re worried.”

“No. We done told you to stay inside with your brothers.”

“The only reason I came home from the School was to help with the harvest, so let me help.”

“Oh, you came home to work? And here I thought you’d want to see your family.”

“Of course I do.” I shoved my fists against my hips. “And help. Why won’t you let me be useful? The sooner you’re done, the sooner we can all spend more time together.”

“Sarah.” Mama plopped her rump onto a nearby stool and rested her elbows on her knees. “We didn’t want you to worry, but…”

“Who’s sick?” Frowning, I crossed my arms over my chest. The towel dangled in my hand.

“Aunt Flora.” Mama turned away. The gas lights made her gray streak flash and made the wrinkles around her mouth deep as weathered cracks splitting wood. “The baby’s got the Fever too.”

“Mama.” I dropped the towel. Crouching low, I roped my arms around her.

“You stay inside, all right?”

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’ll…be all right. I’m sure. Will you re-cook the sausage for me? I need to help your father.”

“Go on.” I pulled a pack of butcher paper out of the ice box and set it on the counter.

“We’ll be home late.” Mama pulled me close to kiss my temple and then walked out the door.

I warshed my hands in the deep, enamel sink. It was only October, but the morning water rushing over my hands was frigid. Hissing, I grabbed another towel and dried them before shaping the ground meat into patties and getting them in a hot skillet. The view from the kitchen window was burnished, sun all orange and fiery as it struck the mist clinging to the yard. Buttermilk crept along the fence line, stalking a field mouse. I hoped she caught it because otherwise it’d be burnt sausage for her.

A shadow slipped through the cluster of pecan trees near the road. At least I thought one did, but when I squinted, I only saw a fat old squirrel cursing at something hiding in the branches above him. I snorted, shook my head, and flipped the sausages. As they browned, I fetched a jar of sorghum molasses and set it on the table with the butter dish. We grew sorghum grain, but Mama always kept enough sweet sorghum in the garden to make syrup for us.

Abel was the first to stumble out of his room. His hair sprayed around his head in dark brown wisps. They took after Mama, but I had Pops’s copper highlights. Last semester, the other girls at the School convinced me to lighten my hair with peroxide, but instead of summer-kissed and sunny, it turned a brassy off-orange, and once my roots grew out, I had Billy take his clippers to it. Now it was a shaggy mess, and I couldn’t wait until it was long enough to pull away from my face.

“Where’s Mama?” Abel asked.

“She went to help Pops. There’s sausage in the skillet.”

“Why does it smell of smoke?”

“Mama burnt the sausage, but I cooked more.” I fixed my own plate and sat on the stool next to the stove, balancing the plate on my lap.

“Did she swear?”

“Yup.”

“Only time I ever hear Mama swear is in the kitchen.”

Abel was right, so I offered a distracted laugh, but I was focused on dipping my biscuit into my sorghum syrup and not his chatter. Abel pulled last night’s sweet tea from the ice box, sat at the table, and shoved his breakfast into his mouth. He chugged half a mason jar’s worth of tea before sighing and setting the glass onto the table.

“I’m gonna go to the pond and get some catfish for dinner.”

“No, you ain’t.” I snorted. We’ve had this conversation damn near every day for three heckin’ weeks.

“I swear I won’t talk to nobody, so let me go.”

“No, you ain’t going. I promised Mama we’d stay inside.”

“Sarah, I’m fourteen. I can handle myself.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Was I this stubborn when I argued with Mama? With three of us giving her sass, no wonder she had a gray streak cutting through her hair like a skunk stripe.

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Meet the Author

Hey there, readers. It’s me, ya boi, Sita Bethel. And this is a biography where I tell you all the boring facts about my life- like how I have a degree in writing, and how my two cats, Odin and Anpu, will one day rule this land as your feline overlords. Enough of that same old, same old. Here’s the real dirt. Sita Bethel likes to wrap up like a burrito with a weighted blanket. They host coloring parties as a personal eff-you to anxiety, and read everything from trash British sensationalist novels like The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins to literary masterpieces like The Color Purple by Alice Walker. Had enough of Sita Bethel yet? If not, check out @sita_bethel on Twitter, or sitabethelfiction on Facebook, or even www.sitabethel.com.

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Dec 18

Book Blitz: The Holiday List by Lane Hayes (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title: The Holiday List

Series: The Script Club #4

Author: Lane Hayes

Narrator: Alexander Cendese

Publisher: Lane Hayes

Release Date: December 3

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 3 hrs and 44 mins

Genre: Romance, Nerd/Jock, MM Romance, Bisexual, Single Dad, Grumpy/Happy, Holiday Romance

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Synopsis

The Mars maestro, the single dad, and a wish list…

Chet-

Boy, am I lucky! Finding a living situation with a houseful of passionate scientists just before the holidays is ideal in every possible way. As the newest member of the Script Club, I feel it’s important to step up and tackle the to-do list my friends would prefer to avoid. Item one, address the tutoring request from the neighborhood-hottie-slash-single-dad on the next block. I’ve got this!

Or do I?

Handsome, older, sporty gentlemen intimidate me. And Mr. McSwoony doesn’t like the holidays. This may be a daunting task.

Sam-

What do you do when a new neighbor shows up on your doorstep with cookies and a wacky plan to spread holiday cheer? I don’t need cheer, but I could use help with some of the experiments my son wants to try. I know football, not science. Hopefully, I can talk Chet into a mutually beneficial trade. The only snag is that I’m seriously attracted to my local Mars expert. He’s unintentionally charming…in the very best way.

Don’t quote me, but this holiday elf with thick glasses and a mile-long list might be exactly what I need.

The Holiday List is an MM bisexual, geek/jock romance with a holiday twist featuring a lovable scientist and a single dad who’s probably on the naughty list!

Excerpt

“Who said I was lonely? I’m not lonely. I’m just tired of being with myself. That’s not the same thing,” I argued.

“Close enough. One thing that helps me fight the blues is an immediate change of scenery,” Chet pronounced with a wide grin.

“Thanks, Doc, but Linc is coming home this week. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t have to physically go anywhere. You can just switch up your routine and add—”

“Let me guess…holiday cheer?”

Chet beamed. “Yes.”

I had to give the guy credit…he was tenacious.

I couldn’t let him think he’d won too easily, though. I furrowed my brow, giving him my best cranky scowl, and huffed. “You really want to decorate my house?”

He frowned. “No. I want to reset your karma. And mine. You’ve done a good deed here tonight, and I owe you one in turn. I also owe my roommates for their kindness.”

“Putting up a tree is going to help your karma?” I snorted.

“And yours.”

Somehow, I doubted that, but I liked the idea of having an excuse to see him again. “Fine. You can decorate my house.”

Chet whooped as he jumped to his feet. “A nice noble fir would look perfect in that corner of your great room near the fireplace. But of course, closer to the window. We don’t want to worry about fire hazards. What’s your ornament situation? I’m happy to purchase some if needed. Simple red and silver balls are always nice and—”

“I’ve got plenty of balls.” I stood, testing my shoulder to be sure I didn’t do any real damage, as I met him at the door. “It’s getting late. We can talk about this later. You seem like the kind of Christmas elf who needs parameters.”

He snickered, pushing his glasses to the bridge of his nose. “There might be some truth to that statement.”

“Just so we’re clear, I’m not gonna want to wake up in a winter fuckin’ wonderland.”

“Right. Got it.”

I braced my hand on the doorknob, scanning the dimly lit foyer briefly. “Come over Saturday. We can talk about it then. And…you can meet Linc.”

Chet narrowed his eyes. Not gonna lie, his immediate transformation from skinny geek to bad-ass science guy was kinda hot.

“Is this trickery?”

“No, but it might be a good trade. We’ll see.” I shot a lopsided grin his way as I opened the door, pointing at the chair that knocked me on my ass. “This is not an adequate security system. I’ll give you my number. If anything seems suspicious or if you need anything, call me.”

Chet typed my contact info into his cell obediently, then pressed Call so I had his number too. Courtesy complete, he fixed me with a no-nonsense look. “Thank you. For the record, while I appreciate your help tonight, I didn’t agree to—”

“I know, I know.” I stared at him for a long moment.

This had to be one of the oddest yet most interesting nights I’d had in a while. This was probably a good time to remind myself that Chet was my neighbor. My much younger neighbor.

But damn it, he was tempting.

I leaned in and pressed my lips to his. It was featherlight touch, hardly a real kiss at all. It was just enough to make him blush. Chet’s cheeks pinkened, and a flush rose low on his neck.

“Mr. Rooney…”

“Sam,” I gently reminded him. “Good night.”

Don’t ask me how I did it, but I somehow managed not to turn around as I headed down the pathway and up the street to my house. My lips twitched in amusement, giving way to a smile that grew with every step. When I finally got home, I let it fly, grinning like a madman as I chomped on a rosemary shortbread cookie made by my own personal elf.

Was I vaguely alarmed at the concept of letting him put a bunch of holiday crap up in my house? Fuck, yes, I was. Hot kiss or not, nothing was going to happen between us. And I was okay with that. Mostly.

Maybe he was just the diversion I’d needed, ’cause hanging out at home for the next couple of weeks suddenly didn’t seem so bad.

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Meet the Author

Lane Hayes loves a good romance! An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to well-told love story with beautifully written characters. Her debut novel was a 2013 Rainbow Award finalist and subsequent books have received Honorable Mentions, and were winners in the 2016, 2017, and 2018-2019 Rainbow Awards. She loves red wine, chocolate and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband in a not quite empty nest.

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Dec 17

Book Blitz: How Not to Date a Dragon by Stephanie Burke (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  How Not to Date a Dragon

Series: How Not To #12

Author: Stephanie Burke

Publisher: Changeling Press

Release Date: December 17, 2021

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 134

Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Bisexual, Multisexual & Pansexual, Elves Dragons & Magical Creatures, Paranormal Romance, Action Adventure, Dark Fantasy, Magic

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Synopsis

Ulvissar, the solitary black omega dragon, is tired of virgin sacrifices. Who even likes humans that way?

However this sacrifice, Alita, is different. She’s brave, bold, and brash. So he decides he’ll keep her. After a few hundred years and countless women in his horde, he’s ready to finally accept the attentions of the Flame dragon, the long-suffering Nithe.

But when the addition of the latest sacrifice brings an army to his doorstep, how is he to keep his hard-won peace, deal with his heat and his hungry mate, and help asexual Alita romance the troublesome princess running from her joke of a prince, all while defending them all from the armies coming to get his woman back?

And you thought dating was hard.

Excerpt

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Stephanie Burke

“Oh Noble Dragon,” the rather beautiful and totally virginal maiden whimpered, her hands bound above her body, her head hanging low. “Dost thou consent to sup upon mine supple and untouched flesh as a sacrifice to save mine humble village?” Her fear was obvious in the trembling of her body, exposed to the elements and the cold spring night. There were tears, he could hear them in her voice, in the way it trembled and the ritual words wavered. The air of hopelessness and despair that surrounded her was a palatable thing.

And the mighty dragon hovered above her, his fierce red eyes and black shadowy scales that made him appear to have parted from the night sky itself… before he let out an annoyed snort and rolled his eyes at his victim.

“Really, when are they going to stop this shit?” he asked, startling a gasp from the bound sacrifice as her head jerked up, her amazed eyes widening as she stared at the monster who was supposed to consume her flesh, grind her bones into meal, and ignore her humble village for another year.

“Oh, Noble One? Uh… excuse me?”

“When are your people,” the great one spat out, “going to catch a clue and leave me the fuck out of their medieval fantasies? How much torture porn can one village aspire to? I mean, do they draw lots for this shit? Do you all volunteer? Were you an orphan that no one wanted to take care of? What gives?”

“Uh… Dragon?”

But the great and noble dragon was pissed, really wanted to vent, and nothing was going to stop him from having his say.

“Are all humans so stupid?” he demanded as he began to pace, all twenty-five-foot-tall scaly body and bad attitude. “I send a girl back and they kill her for not” — he actually made air quotes with two of his four large taloned fingers –”being a good sacrifice. I go and try to talk to them about this shit and they scream and run like I was burning the place down and they send me even more virginal girls. I don’t take the first sacrifice and they murder the poor child and leave another sitting in her blood and brains. Do you know how long it takes to get the smell of blood out of your nose? No? I bet you don’t because they would never kill a woman on your behalf. That is a sacrificial action saved just for me.”

His large spaded tail whipped back and forth as he grumbled, staring down at the village from the so-called Dragon Stones that the villagers set up centuries before when they moved into his territory and decided to stay. Of course, when moving into dragon lands you had to have a proper sacrifice. That was the way of it, but it was what they chose to send as a sacrifice that was really pissing him off.

“All I wanted was some seeds to plant new crops and that somehow translated into virgin. How much of an idiot do you have to be to make that incredibly wrong leap of logic? I wanted crops and I got virgins. I would have accepted some livestock instead — cows only last for so long and I really like cheese. But no, the village assholes in all their great glory send me virgin females. I don’t want virgin females. I want the peace of mind knowing that not another girl will be murdered on my behalf.”

“Uh… Dragon?”

“I want some fucking peace!” he roared, the sound echoing through the valley below where the town sat protected from the dangers of the outside world. He could see the lights flicker as terrified townsfolk hid themselves, probably pissing themselves because they thought the sacrifice was unworthy.

“Hey, Dragon?” the sacrifice called, gaining his attention as he stopped pacing a rut into the ground and stared down at her.

“What?”

“If you aren’t going to eat me, perhaps you could let me go? My arms have gone to sleep and I really have to pee.”

He glared down at her and she stared back, the fear that had earlier surrounded her dissipating, almost as if it didn’t exist in the first place. That was… new. He arched an eyebrow and she arched one back.

“I really have to go,” she spoke again, staring right into his red eyes. “And if you think the smell of blood is bad, I have to tell you the smell of urine trumps that every time. I know. I’m a farmer’s daughter. So if you would…” she jerked her head toward the bindings that held her arms aloft. “I can just slip behind those rocks over there and do my business and be right back for the rest of your tirade. I don’t think I can hold it for much longer. I made sure to drink lots before they dragged me up here. If you were going to eat me, I was going to give you a memorable meal surprise. But since you don’t seem intent on consuming my supple virgin flesh…”

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Meet the Author

Stephanie is a USA Today Best Selling, multi published, multi award-winning author, Master Costumer, handicapped, wife and mother of two.

From sex-shifting, shape-shifting dragons to undersea worlds, sexually confused elemental Fey and homo-erotic mysteries, all the way to pastel-challenged urban sprites, Stephanie has done it all, and hopes to do more.

Stephanie is an orator on her favorite subjects of writing and world-building, a sometime teacher when you feed her enough tea and donuts, an anime nut, a costumer, and a frequent guest of various sci-fi and writing cons where she can be found leading panel discussions or researching varied legends and theories to improve her writing skills.

Stephanie is known for her love of the outrageous, strong female characters, believable worlds, male characters filled with depth, and multi-cultural stories that make the reader sit up and take notice.

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Dec 14

New Release Blitz: Stealing the Dragon by Mell Eight (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Stealing the Dragon

Series: Dragon’s Hoard, Book Three

Author: Mell Eight

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 12/14/2021

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 26800

Genre: Paranormal, LGBTQIA+, bonded mates, royalty, prison, interspecies, mythical creatures, dragon shifters

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Description

Stealing from a dragon’s hoard is never a bright idea, but stealing from a baby dragon’s hoard can lead to tears, sniffles, and smoke in the middle of a busy marketplace.

Jerney, a witch who does work for a well-known thieves’ guild, knows exactly who’s to blame for the brazen theft. With no other choice in the matter, he quickly becomes entangled in trying to help the baby dragon. What he doesn’t expect is his own heart might get stolen in the process.

Excerpt

Stealing the Dragon
Mell Eight © 2021
All Rights Reserved

“Tori, you’re the only one I can send. I’m sorry.”

Tori looked up from where he was carefully shining his favorite ruby necklace and glared at his human uncle Bast.

“This time you really are the only one. Rex and Jag are both out of the city, and we needed this solved five years ago.”

Uncle Bast’s expression showed real remorse at having to pull Tori from his hoard room, but that didn’t make Tori feel any better. He wasn’t human, regardless of the fact that his shape was. Both of his parents were dragons, and he was the result of an experiment on what would happen if dragons tried to procreate in human form. Instead of being born in dragon shape from an egg, as all dragons were, Tori had been born from a womb in human form as humans were.

The fact that his mother had managed to stay in human form for the requisite nine months surprised Tori every time he went to visit her. Gail was the flightiest of dragons, and sometimes she barely remembered she had two sons and that one of them, Tori, was stuck in human form until he matured enough to shift.

At eighteen, Tori was still a baby dragon. He hadn’t even reached his second decade yet! His older brother Nyle was still considered to be a child, and he had lived for centuries. But humans didn’t understand that Tori should still be cave-bound, barely starting to learn about pretties and his magic. Eighteen years old for a human was considered to be the age of adulthood when young men and women were expected to take on adult responsibilities. Raised among humans, Tori was able to act at least close to that age, but it was hard to pretend maturity sometimes.

Eight months ago, his uncle Bast had forced Tori to take command of a rank of troops. Tori had tried to treat it as an experiment, to see if a dragon could handle warring humans. Needless to say, it had failed, and the humans had blamed Tori as if Tori should have been old enough to understand what had gone wrong.

Three months ago, Bast had given Tori some basic investigation work in the castle. A servant had been stealing the silver. Tori had just shrugged off the investigation entirely. If the humans didn’t consider the silver their hoard, then they had no right to keep someone from taking it. Luckily, even the human servant stealing from the castle had known better than to touch Tori’s small hoard.

There was no way Uncle Bast was sending Tori out on another investigation. Tori would prefer to move in with his big brother Nyle, even if Nyle and Leon were a bit sickening with their snuggling all the time. Tori turned his back on Uncle Bast and went back to polishing his ruby necklace set in gold.

He held it up to his hair, admiring the fact that the red parts of his hair so closely matched the ruby and the gold parts of his hair matched the gold setting. That was another strange thing about him. Tori was stuck in human form until his magic matured enough to allow him a second shape, and instead of solely being gold like his father, Tori had both his parents’ coloring. Being bicolored, red and gold, was odd for a dragon, but it pleased Tori to be so pretty.

“There’s a witch spell casting for the thieves’ guild!” Uncle Bast tried to explain. “They’ve been getting away with crimes for almost ten years. I just need you to locate the witch; that’s all.”

Tori finished polishing his favorite necklace and clasped it around his neck. His glance around the small storeroom filled with his pretties showed that nothing was out of place or in need of polish. Tori stood with a groan and walked over to his small pile of rubies. He felt the urge to curl up on the rubies. There was one advantage to being in human shape: as a dragon, the pile would only serve as a pillow, but as a human, his entire shape would fit on it.

Tori gave into the urge without much thought. He spread a soft blanket to keep the sharp points from digging into his skin and curled up with one hand buried in red and purple brilliance.

“Tori!” Uncle Bast snapped from the doorway. Tori ignored him, and soon enough his uncle sighed as if disappointed and left. Tori snuggled deeper into his blanket and took a nap.

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Meet the Author

When Mell Eight was in high school, she discovered dragons. Beautiful, wondrous creatures that took her on epic adventures both to faraway lands and on journeys of the heart. Mell wanted to create dragons of her own, so she put pen to paper. Mell Eight is now known for her own soaring dragons, as well as for other wonderful characters dancing across the pages of her books. While she mostly writes paranormal or fantasy stories, she has been seen exploring the real world once or twice.

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Dec 14

New Release Blitz: To Melt a Frozen Heart by Fearne Hill (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  To Melt a Frozen Heart

Series: Rossingly, 3.5

Author: Fearne Hill

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 12/14/2021

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 31700

Genre: Contemporary Holiday, LGBTQIA+, contemporary, gay, holiday, British, aristocracy, fashion model/celebrity, politician, gardeners, humorous, family drama, over 40, opposites attract, rich man/poor man, second chance, engagement, British euphemisms

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Description

Freddie Duchamps-Avery has only one desire this Christmas: to ask his beloved Reuben to marry him. However, with his needy father moping around, finding the perfect, romantic moment to propose is proving tricky.

The Rt Hon. Charles Duchamps-Avery is a successful politician, a hopeless father, and a miserable divorcé. Facing the prospect of Christmas alone in London, he accepts his son Freddie’s generous invitation to join the gang at Rossingley. Yet, being surrounded by happy couples only serves to remind of his past mistakes and a looming, lonely old age.

If only a handsome, enigmatic stranger would appear and distract him…

Excerpt

To Melt a Frozen Heart
Fearne Hill © 2021
All Rights Reserved

FREDDIE

“He won’t accept anything too fancy. You know what he’s like. He might even say no!”

I pushed the double buggy on a second lap around Rossingley Lake. Lucien sauntered alongside, puffing on a crafty fag out of view of the twins and indeed anyone else. Limiting himself to only one cigarette per week, he had started smoking Virginia Slims, which were apparently the longest.

“He won’t say no,” Lucien reassured, not hiding the frustration in his voice. In his defence, I was beginning to sound like a stuck record. “The bangle isn’t too fancy, darling. It’s perfect. A brilliant choice, even if I do say so myself.”

“Maybe we should have stuck to the plain one without the diamonds.”

Lucien groaned, not unreasonably. “Trust me, Freddie. Reuben will agree to marry you if you present him with a bag of organic compost. Perhaps that’s what we should have bought? A quick trip down to the garden centre would have been a hell of a lot kinder on my poor feet.”

“I forgot you had bunions.”

“Shh! Don’t use that filthy language in front of the children! The sixteenth Earl of Rossingley does not have bunions! I think you’ll find that in our household, my husband and I have agreed to refer to them as my ‘shapely love bumps’.”

I never foresaw Lucien declaring he’d fallen out of love with shopping, but last week, I’d been the prime instigator of it. He’d agreed with pleasure to accompany me on an expedition up to London to choose an engagement gift for Reuben, but by the time I’d trawled pretty much every single jeweller on a packed pre-Christmas Bond Street, he’d declared himself a convert to the internet and had spent the evening moaning, with his knobbly, bruised feet plunged in an ice bath.

Marriage: love, laughter, and happily ever after.

I was achingly desperate to pop the question. To tie the knot. To plight my troth, whatever the fuck that meant. The pretty bangle burned a hole in my jacket pocket, and the words were almost bursting out of me. Ever since Lucien had done the deed, he scattered the phrase ‘my husband’ around like confetti practically whenever he opened his mouth. Every time he casually threw the words out, I experienced a sharp kick in the guts of pure envy. Not of him being married to Jay, although I thought I’d be secretly drooling over his pecs forever.

Having previously viewed the whole marriage thing as a heteronormative black hole to avoid like the plague, since Lucien’s bloody wedding, a primal urge to be married to Reuben had lodged in my brain. I craved the awesome sense of possessiveness about it. To put a ring on it. To get down on one knee. Like Lucien, I wanted to add the words ‘my husband’ to my vocabulary and say them with pride. On a practical level, I wanted to give Reuben a legal right to all my dosh. Even if he wasn’t fussed about having it.

Knowing Reuben wouldn’t hold truck with a showy engagement ring, I’d decided to buy him a bangle instead, which he could discreetly hide under his long sleeves every day at work. What had begun in my mind as a simple silver wristband had morphed into an impressively solid chunk of white gold, inlaid with delicate yellow diamonds shaped like flowerheads. Engraved on the inside I’d chosen ‘all my love forever, Freddie’. Not challenging Byron in the romantic poetry stakes but pretty much summing up all my feelings for him in a nutshell. Lucien and I agreed the bangle was stunning; yellow was my man’s favourite colour, and I’d fallen in love the moment I’d clapped eyes on it.

“Maybe I should get him a simple silver one too,” I hedged. “Then he can choose. Or have both.”

“Yes, darling, why don’t you do that,” Lucien replied testily. “Actually, buy two simple silver bracelets, and a sweet little chain too. Bring them to me, we’ll secure them around both your wrists, and then I’ll handcuff you somewhere suitably far enough away that I don’t have to hear you drivelling on about the bloody bangle. Reuben adores you! He’ll adore the bangle. He’s going to say yes!”

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Meet the Author

Fearne Hill lives deep in the southern British countryside with three untamed sons, varying numbers of hens, a few tortoises, and a beautiful cocker spaniel.

When she is not overseeing her small menagerie, she enjoys writing contemporary romantic fiction. And when she is not doing either of those things, she works as an anaesthesiologist.

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Dec 14

New Release Blitz ~ Joy To Jane by Katherine E. Hunt (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Joy To Jane by Katherine E. Hunt

Book 4 in the Mended Hearts series

General Release Date: 14th December 2021

Word Count: 13,236
Book Length: SHORT STORY
Pages: 67

Genres:

BONDAGE AND BDSM
COMEDY AND HUMOUR
CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
MÉNAGE AND MULTIPLE PARTNERS

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Book Description

It’s not all stockings and stuffing when Jane’s three lovers turn up at her door on Christmas Eve.

Christmas is a stressful time for anybody, but this year it’s turning out to be especially difficult for Jane Carter.

Her son, Greg, has brought home a girlfriend for the very first time, one of her boyfriends, Rupert, has decided to go full PDA on her and her other two boyfriends are feeling completely left out. Add a terrible snowstorm, a power cut and a few secrets and lies into the mix and she’s got a recipe for disaster.

Can Jane survive Christmas without her son finding out about her polyamorous love life? Can she cope with three boyfriends all under one roof, especially when it seems that those relationships are hanging on by a single thread? Maybe all she really needs is the ghost from Christmas past to remind her that communication is the key to happiness.

Excerpt

Christmas Eve eve morning

A can of condensed chicken soup careened off the shelf and landed on Joe’s foot. “Fucking holy hell!”

“Shhhh… Jeez, Joe, suck it up.” The whole idea of doing it in the pantry was to be discreet.

“You’re lucky I love you,” he whispered as he hiked my skirt above my waist and sank his hand between my legs. “Now show me some of that love.”

He traced a line with his lips from behind my ear down to the top of my spine. There was something so deliciously naughty about hiding away, secretly making love in a room no bigger than four-foot square.

I clutched onto the herbs and spices shelf as he entered me from behind, crouching down and almost lifting me off my feet as he thrust into me.

“Fuck.”

He slid his hand gently over my mouth, reminding me to be silent. I sank my teeth into it, enough to make him gasp.

We’d promised to be good. He’d come over, be ‘the gardener’, sneak a quick kiss here or there when we wanted but there would be no sex for two weeks. Greg, my son, was home for Christmas and had brought a girl with him for the very first time. This was not the moment to suddenly announce my polyamorous lifestyle to the family. I mean ‘pass the potatoes, and oh, by the way, I’m dating three men’ wasn’t exactly what you’d call polite Christmas dinner conversation.

Unfortunately, Joe was horny, and I was weak. A touch on the arm had turned into a cuddle on a chair and before we knew it, he was pounding me among the pasta and other dry goods.

Sex with Joe was rampant, wild. He had one hand clamped firmly over my mouth and the other rubbing furiously at my clit, and I was begging him to make me come. He sped up the rhythm, knocking over a packet of rice and sending it cascading over us as we both came explosively and yet silently, rocking that little room like a miniature earthquake.

I sank down from my tiptoes—Joe was a tall man—and caught my breath. I might have to do a little last-minute shopping. The contents of the cupboard were splayed out at my feet, but it had been worth it.

“Shit, Jane, I needed that.”

“Right? I thought we could wait, but it’s like when you go on a diet. The minute you can’t eat sugar, all you can think about is frosted donuts.”

He pulled out his dick and swirled his finger around my core one last time. “Next time, I get to eat the frosted donut, right?”

“Not if we do it in here again, you don’t. I’m too old to try to balance four shelves up among the canned beans and peanut butter.” I opened the door and peeked outside. It was nine a.m. and Greg would be up any minute. We were cutting it fine.

“Is it all clear?”

“Yes.” I stepped out, pulling my skirt down to a presentable level. I’d have to start wearing yoga pants and old T-shirts around Joe. The man was a sucker for a bit of thigh, and I couldn’t risk getting carried away again.

“Here.” I grabbed a broom as I picked rice out of my hair. “Make yourself useful while I make coffee.” He held up the knotted, used condom, waved it at me, and I took it out of his hand.

Right on cue, Greg stepped into the kitchen. “Hey, Mom.”

“Morning, sweetie.” I shoved the condom down my bra as Greg wiped the sleep out of his eyes. “This is Joe, our gardener.”

“Why is he sweeping the pantry?”

Fuck. “Umm…”

“Raccoons,” said Joe. “They got in last night and went rampant.”

“Yes, raccoons,” I repeated. “Out of control.” Personal note, thank Joe later.

He finished sweeping and tidying then headed outside without even a kiss goodbye. My heart sank a little. It didn’t seem right to treat him like that, but he understood. Greg was still young, he wasn’t over his father’s death yet and he was in his final year of college. It wouldn’t be fair to spring this on him, too.

“So what have you and Laura got planned for today? There’s a Christmas market on in town. We could all go drink some mulled wine and pick up some treats for Christmas Eve.”

“If you like. I was planning to take her out for lunch then go for a walk along the beach this afternoon. Would you like to come too? Maybe you could bring Rupert.”

Rupert was my official boyfriend in my son’s eyes. Greg had fixed us up and was proud to have found the new man in my life. “No thank you, sweetie. Rupert’s coming over tomorrow for dinner. He’s been busy marking papers and wanted to get it all finished before we celebrated Christmas together.”

It would have been oh-so-lovely to have all my lovers at the Christmas table with us. It felt rude to only invite the one. They’d all been great about it, but it had broken my heart a little. At least I could invite Paul over this afternoon if he were free. I didn’t normally fit in two boyfriends in one day, but needs must, and right now I needed the sweet taste of Paul’s lips on mine.

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About the Author

Katherine E Hunt

Katherine E Hunt ran off with a Frenchman twenty years ago. She now lives on a French mountain with three children and two dogs. When she isn’t writing contemporary romance she can be found huddled up in front of a roaring fire, with a glass of Chardonnay in one hand and a book in the other.

You can find out more about Katherine on her website.

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Dec 14

New Release Blitz ~ Howling for More by Bailey Bradford (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Howling for More by Bailey Bradford

Book 1 in the Triple Threat series

General Release Date: 14th December 2021

Word Count: 37,200
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 168

Genres:

CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
GAY
GLBTQI
MÉNAGE AND MULTIPLE PARTNERS
PARANORMAL
WERESHIFTERS

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Book Description

 

What happens when the wolf is unleashed?

Bowen’s used to life as a lone wolf. He has the occasional hook-up, but rarely with the same man twice. Chiz is an exception to his rule, and one night’s adventure that neither of them expected forces Bowen to see Chiz as more than just a pretty sub he can scratch his itch for rough sex with.

Chiz has his own rules for getting off with guys. His secret crush on Bowen was supposed to remain just that—a secret—until the one night that changes everything, and hiding things is impossible.

Then there’s Dare, the big tough bar owner who has questions for Bowen and Chiz and whose attraction to them is too strong to resist…and is just as powerful as the feelings Bowen and Chiz have for him.

But giving in to the overpowering sexual pull makes Bowen lose control of his wolf—an act that changes not only his fate but Chiz’s and Dare’s too.

Can their relationship survive what they unleash?

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of violence and death, references to non-nurturing parenting and a scene of turning into a shifter without prior discussion.

Publisher’s note: This book was originally published as Bowen’s Battle. It has been revised to become the first in a new shifter series for Pride Publishing.

Excerpt

Sex. The scent of it hung heavy in the air of the club’s restroom—which was probably a good thing. Bowen sighed as he leaned against one wall, nearly bumping elbows with the guy on the left of him.

Kneeling at Bowen’s feet was Chiz, one of his occasional hook-ups when neither man had someone else to fuck around with.

Bowen had been in a dry spell for a few months. Work on the ranch had taken up all his time, the birthing of the foals and caring for the horses more important than his own libido.

But tonight, he needed to get off with someone else rather than all alone, and Chiz obviously felt the same way.

Chiz opened his mouth and sucked the tip of Bowen’s cockhead in while looking up at Bowen through thick blond-tipped lashes. Chiz flicked his tongue, and Bowen bit back a moan. He wasn’t going to last long tonight, not after how long it had been for him, and now with Chiz’s very talented mouth working his dick.

Bowen braced one hand on Chiz’s shoulder, the other on the wall and began to thrust, knowing it was okay to do so. Chiz’s lashes fluttered, then he closed his eyes and sucked Bowen off with an enthusiasm that likely made every other man getting sucked off in the bathroom jealous.

Bowen clenched both hands, wishing he could just grab Chiz’s blond hair and use it to hold his head still. Bowen liked wielding control while having sex, but it wasn’t something he did often. Certainly not with one-night stands.

Though, he had messed around with Chiz a handful of times, at least.

Still, they weren’t friends, just two guys getting off together.

But would it hurt to—

Bowen shut off that stream of thought. Now was neither the time nor place for him to decide to get all…whatever. He hissed as pleasure raced throughout his body. His balls drew tight, and his groin burned with the beginnings of his climax.

Chiz deep-throated him again, and that was it. Bowen let go, let his orgasm burst free and shoot in hot jets down Chiz’s throat.

“I think we’re gonna have us a turn at that mouth and ass.”

Bowen’s eyes had almost closed when he heard that comment. He slipped his hand from Chiz’s shoulder to his nape, the automatic need to protect rising quickly and stomping out any lingering sexual bliss.

The bathroom had grown less crowded—except for the three men standing in a half-circle, blocking off the exit.

Bowen growled and didn’t give two shits about his own cock flopping free as he tightened his clasp on Chiz. “Whatever you dumb fucks are thinking, unthink it. You ain’t touching him.”

The biggest man, a grizzled, ugly guy who looked like he needed a shower or three, smirked at Bowen. “And who says we was talking about him?”

Well, Bowen would rather avoid a fight altogether, but if those three shitheels were going to be coming after either him or Chiz, Bowen would rather be the target.

“Aw, Earl! That guy can suck dick!”

“Shut up, Killer.” Earl didn’t look away from Bowen.

“Killer?” Chiz muttered against Bowen’s shaft. “Seriously?” He tried to turn his head.

Bowen’s fight instincts were engaging. He had a feeling there’d be no easy-outs tonight.

And his daddy had always told him to get in the first punch.

The scent of danger was in the air, and Bowen couldn’t ignore it, not that he would have tried. Instincts existed for a reason, or at least his did.

In a second, he had Chiz behind him and was lunging at Earl, the leader of the pack of idiots. Bowen managed to get his dick tucked into his underwear while swinging hard with his left hand.

He was fast, too fast for a burly, out-of-shape man like Earl to escape. His fist connecting with Earl’s jaw felt pretty damned good.

Sex and violence…the two were linked sometimes. Bowen wouldn’t examine that very closely, not if he could help it.

Earl’s head jerked to the side. Blood and spit flew from his mouth as all hell broke loose in the restroom.

And maybe Bowen should have thought out his attack a little better, because Earl didn’t go down, and his two buddies shot past Bowen.

He had to protect Chiz—Chiz was small-boned, almost delicately built, and all three men were…none of those things.

Bowen kicked Earl in the balls, and the big fool went down with a high-pitched screech. Bowen spun around and grabbed both men by the backs of their shirts. He pulled and ripped the material, then had to grab at them again.

One of them—Killer, he thought—went flying backward. The other, Bowen clutched at, spun around then punched in the gut.

Bowen caught a flash of Chiz shooting up and lunging away. At first, Bowen thought Chiz was running for the door.

But no. Killer was flung against the wall beside the man Bowen was trying to take down.

Chiz was there, moving so fast with punches and martial arts moves that Bowen couldn’t keep up with what he was doing.

Especially not when Bowen nearly got kneed in the balls.

He focused on the fight he was in, avoiding damage to his family jewels, taking a hard slug to the ribs, then elbowing his opponent in the gut before using an uppercut to finally take the fucker out.

By then, Chiz was standing, hands on his slender hips, tapping one foot.

Bowen looked at him head-on.

Chiz nodded. “Wasn’t sure if you’d need help.”

Bowen almost laughed at that. He’d held back a lot of his strength since he didn’t want to end up in prison for murder.

Chiz scowled at him. “I can take care of myself. I’m not some delicate flower, here.”

“Yeah, I get that, but maybe we should leave before these fuckwits regain consciousness?” Bowen suggested. His knuckles burned, the skin raw and abraded, but it’d be healed up in no time at all.

“Probably.” Chiz wrinkled his nose as he glanced at the men. “Ugh. I hope they aren’t thinking they’ll be regulars here.” Then he canted his head and grinned at Bowen. “And I didn’t get to come. I’m pretty sure you’re not a psycho-serial killer, so, um, if you want to go back to my place, we could do that.”

Bowen’s first impulse was to say no, but he checked it. First things first—he and Chiz needed to get out of there.

“Come on.” Bowen took Chiz by the elbow.

“Not a delicate flower,” Chiz muttered, but he didn’t pull away.

“Nah, you kicked ass. What were you doing?” Bowen asked as he led Chiz out of the restroom.

“Fighting,” Chiz replied. “Duh.”

Bowen cut him a narrow look. “Anyone ever spanked you?”

“I refuse to answer that,” Chiz drawled, “on account of I’d have to explain where the bodies were. Hypothetically, of course.”

That startled a laugh out of Bowen. “Is that so? ’Cause I think you’d like it.”

“Right. The younger, delicate little twink—”

“You got a hang-up over that delicate part,” Bowen observed, interrupting Chiz while opening the restroom door. “Don’t ya?”

Chiz sniffed and pulled his arm free. “Do not.”

Bowen laughed again. How was it he hadn’t known Chiz was so feisty?

’Cause all I’ve ever seen him as is a way to get off. Wow. I’m an asshole. Though, to be fair, I don’t think Chiz’s seen me any differently.

The club was still packed, but several people looked their way when Bowen and Chiz left the restroom. Bowen’s anger sparked. “Those fuckin’ assholes watching us knew we were gonna be jumped.”

“Probably,” Chiz agreed. “A pox on all of them. May their urethras be inflamed and burn with the stings of a thousand wasps.”

“Fuck.” That made Bowen’s dick ache.

Chiz grinned. “I could flip them off, if you want to fight some more?”

“Rather not.” Bowen’s pulse escalated, not at the idea of fighting, but at the mischievous way Chiz was acting. He was interesting, not just attractive.

Chiz shrugged. “Okay, your call. You wanna come back to mine? I’d like to get off a few times tonight.”

Oh damn! A few times? How stupid had Bowen been, not chatting with Chiz more until now?

“Yeah, let’s do that.” Bowen licked his suddenly dry lips. He’d just come not five minutes ago, and he was already close to getting hard again.

Chiz winked at him. “Cool. Maybe I’ll let you slap my ass a time or two.”

That was a gauntlet thrown down. Bowen ghosted a hand over Chiz’s ass. “Maybe I’ll let you beg me to.”

Chiz narrowed his eyes at Bowen. “Beg you to?”

But Chiz’s pulse sped up. Bowen could see it fluttering at the base of his neck and he noted the flare of Chiz’s nostrils and the beginning of an erection pressing against the fly of his pants.

“What the hell’s going on?” roared someone from the back of the club. Literally, Bowen thought, from the back, where there might be offices or something. He didn’t know. He just came there to get laid and wasn’t buddies with anyone.

“Seems like a good time to split,” Chiz said. He grasped Bowen’s hand. “Because that sounds like one pissed-off man, and I’ve heard stories about the guy who owns this place.”

“Oh?” Bowen was curious, but Chiz tugged, and Bowen followed.

“Yup, and you don’t want to fight any more tonight, right?”

“Right.” Bowen would much rather fuck, and Chiz was…interesting.

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About the Author

Bailey Bradford

A native Texan, Bailey spends her days spinning stories around in her head, which has contributed to more than one incident of tripping over her own feet. Evenings are reserved for pounding away at the keyboard, as are early morning hours. Sleep? Doesn’t happen much. Writing is too much fun, and there are too many characters bouncing about, tapping on Bailey’s brain demanding to be let out.

Caffeine and chocolate are permanent fixtures in Bailey’s office and are never far from hand at any given time. Removing either of those necessities from Bailey’s presence can result in what is known as A Very, Very Scary Bailey and is not advised under any circumstances.

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Dec 07

New Release Blitz: The Spell by Nancy J. Hedin (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  The Spell

Author: Nancy J. Hedin

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 12/07/2021

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 46600

Genre: Fantasy, LGBTQIA+, Lit, paranormal, lesbian, bisexual, magical realism, humor, painter, magic user, spell, real estate broker, police officer

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Description

What if you could enter and roam around in any painting and then return to your own reality—or not? Would you do it? Would you sit in on the Lord’s Supper, snuggle the Mona Lisa, or have a painting made of something—or someone—in your past or future you long to visit?

Waverly Ames is given that ability through a spell book she finds while on vacation. What’s more, her brash, beautiful neighbor, friend, and dog-walker Jewel is a painter who can fulfil any commission. And then there’s Camille, the married woman who captured Waverly’s heart—the woman Waverly can’t get over.

What happens when lust meets magic? What happens when being somewhere, anywhere is as simple as a painting and the artist’s intention behind it? Can you truly have your heart’s desire?

Excerpt

The Spell
Nancy J. Hedin © 2021
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
Broken Heart
Waverly Ames had regrets, but none bigger than losing her first love, Camille. She wept and petted the thin leather cover of the spell book that was her only remnant of their week-long love affair the year prior. That was, the only remnant if Waverly ignored her ruminations, incessant second-guessing, and full-body ache to be with Camille again. The affair had ended without goodbyes, promises, or any way to contact Camille. They each returned to their own lives: Camille returned to her suburban home with her husband and two daughters, and Waverly returned to…what? Her apartment in a co-op building, her former job in real estate, and her unrealized dream of being a poet. She felt robbed.

She heard a key snick in her front door lock, the door creak open and click closed again. Waverly’s dog, Stella, barked and bounded to the kitchen. Baby talk and padded footfalls in the galley kitchen followed by the rattle of condiments and juice bottles inside the door of her refrigerator as it was opened, robbed, and slammed shut again. She wiped her eyes, dabbed her nose, and hid the spell book under her couch pillow. She didn’t want Jewel to see her being a baby. How could she have any tears left? She’d cried every day since Camille had left her. Waverly had made a resolution to be a grown-up.

She supposed it was time. Hadn’t most people set aside their childish dreams and taken on the mantle of adulthood by age thirty-five? She took back her old job in real estate, which she hated, and she had bought a condo she couldn’t really afford. That was what grown-ups did, she told herself. Grown-ups did not plan to be poets, fall in love with married women, and live in month-to-month apartments based on whether there was a good vibe for writing poetry there. She hadn’t written a single poem since she moved into the place.

The cupboard doors clicked, dishes clinked, and silverware jangled against glassware. The noises used to frighten Waverly, make her hold her breath, look for her phone and a weapon, but over time, she only found the intruder annoying. It was just Jewel.

Jewel Cartwright, beautiful, brash, sinewy, younger than Waverly, on the early rungs of her third decade. Jewel lived in an unusually large studio apartment on the same floor as Waverly. Jewel’s space had no furniture other than a futon on the floor, but the windows were the size of garage doors and looked out on both downtown St. Paul and the bluffs and winding Mississippi River. Jewel was a painter. She sporadically worked a job restoring fine paintings, but mostly, Jewel painted her own work and filled her apartment with her paintings and the copies of other great paintings she replicated. She never grocery shopped and was always hungry. Shortly after Waverly bought her place and only days after she’d met her, Jewel insisted she was the best person to fill the dog-walking job Waverly posted on the co-op message board.

Jewel became Waverly’s official walker for Stella, Waverly’s seventy-pound shepherd-lab mix. From that point on, Jewel had a key to Waverly’s place, but came in at non-dog-walking times—no knock, no advanced warning.

Jewel stepped out from the kitchen and scanned Waverly’s face. “What? What’s that look? You don’t want me, change the locks.” It was complicated. Waverly did want her to walk Stella, so she put up with Jewel coming in at her leisure and often making herself a sandwich or eating Waverly’s leftovers. Stella, too, was eating a giant sandwich but not before she had peed a trickle on the floor in her excitement to see Jewel.

Waverly didn’t want Jewel to see her crying again.

“What’s wrong?” Jewel asked.

“Allergies.” Waverly blew her nose. “Why does my dog like you better than me?”

“Duh, I take her on walks, let her eat whatever she wants, and I tell her adventure stories where she is the femme fatale, the secret agent, the top dog.” Jewel kissed Stella on the head and stared at Waverly. “Don’t tell me you have been crying about Camille again.”

Jewel sat. Stella jumped up on the loveseat beside her as Jewel unloaded her stash. Once her hands were free to rub Stella’s ear, Jewel again talked baby talk to Stella. “Your mom is a silly goose obsessing about that naughty Camille when she could have lovely Jewel.”

Stella’s hair wafted into the air and onto the rug, furniture, and Waverly’s black jeans.

“Stella, tell Jewel to mind her own business.” Waverly sat up straight on the couch, reached back to snag her russet-brown hair, twisted it in a coil on her head, and secured it with a pencil. She took deep breaths. She noticed that Jewel stared at her breasts as she chewed. Waverly took the book out from beneath the pillow and held it in front of her chest. “Are you staring at my tits?”

“Cows have tits. I’m staring at your perfectly lovely breasts. They’re like warm kittens or hamsters under your shirt. Can I touch them?”

“No.” Waverly threw the spell book at Jewel and immediately regretted it. She didn’t want to damage the book, and she didn’t want anyone else touching it.

Jewel ducked. The book hit the wall, ricocheted back, and lay at her feet. She picked it up with her free hand. “Oh, Christ, haven’t you burned this thing yet?” Jewel crammed part of a pastrami and cheddar on sourdough sandwich in her mouth and gave the remainder to the dog. Stella planted herself on the rug like Jewel might change her mind and ask for the sandwich back.

Jewel stood and unloaded some of her plunder onto the coffee table, smearing the latest issue of Architectural Digest. She flopped down again on the love seat and flung her leg over the armrest without any embarrassment that the skirt she wore was entirely too short and she wore no underwear. “I’ll burn it for you. I have a lighter in my pocket. I could torch the thing right on this table.”

“No, you can’t.” Waverly tossed a throw blanket to Jewel. “Cover your junk! I can’t think with genitals in my face.”

“Excuse me, but I have no junk only jewels! Besides, you could use some genitals in your face so you’d stop obsessing about Camille.”

Stella burped. Jewel burped.

“You don’t understand.”

“What’s to understand?”

That was the thing, really. No one seemed to understand how important Waverly’s first real love affair had been. Maybe no one understood because they hadn’t had Waverly’s beginning. They hadn’t been orphaned at age six, shuttled between foster homes until finally, Waverly’s mother’s sister relented and said she would “take the girl.”

Who else knew of the shock of losing parents being compounded by being placed with loud, disinterested foster parents with homes that smelled of urine and Hamburger Helper? After three of these nightmares, Waverly finally landed where her parents had informally and unofficially wanted her to be if, God forbid, anything happened to them. God should have forbidden all of it, starting with the car accident that had killed her birth parents and continuing into Waverly’s school years in the care of cold, withholding, puritanical custodial parents who rationed their affections.

Add to that Waverly wasn’t her aunt and uncle’s birth child, and she didn’t want to be a nurse or schoolteacher. She wanted to be a cowboy briefly, and then she wanted to be a poet. She didn’t want to marry a man. She was attracted to women.

She was an orphaned misfit like an extra piece of hardware in the IKEA box. She didn’t fit anywhere. College was a dream in most respects. She was expected to be independent. In college being queer wasn’t a big deal. It made her almost interesting. She’d had girlfriends before—brief flirtations, one-night stands, and brief stints of cohabitation in college and graduate school that faded like fad diets and new year’s resolutions. Of course, Waverly clung to Camille. Camille was the first woman who had loved her with tender passion. Camille had swaddled Waverly in attention and adoration as Waverly nuzzled in Camille’s arms, drinking her in with her eyes.

Jewel dug a squished package of Little Debbie Swiss Rolls from her tank top. “How many people do you know who can hide chocolate-covered, crème-filled snack cakes in their rack?”

“I don’t know many.” Waverly shook her head. “Don’t give any of that to Stella.”

“I know dogs can’t do chocolate. Anyway—” Jewel licked her fingers. “What’s to understand? You met a woman, a married woman, a straight married woman, I might add…”

“Camille was not straight, I can assure you that.” Waverly’s head bobbled a bit, and she gave an impish grin.

“I know, I know, you made love every day, many times a day. You’ve told me a million times.” Jewel drank milk directly from the carton—Waverly’s carton. “I’m telling you, Waverly, plenty of straight women won’t say no to a week of orgasms independent of some guy slamming against them. But Waves, she went back to her husband and left you with what? A hole in your heart and that dumb book. You need to burn that book and cauterize the hole in your heart so that you can heal. Give the book to Stella as a chew toy. I gave her a Bible and two self-help books. She’ll be shitting psalms, proverbs, and platitudes for days.”

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Nancy Hedin, a Minnesota writer, has been a pastor and bartender (at the same time). She has been a stand-up comic and a mental health crisis worker (at the same time). She wants readers to know that every story she writes begins with her hearing voices.

In 2018 Nancy’s debut novel, Bend was named one of twenty-five books to read for Pride Month Barnes and Noble, and was named Debut Novel of the Year by Golden Crown Literary Society and Foreword Indies Honorable Mention for GLBT Adult Novel of the Year.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Linkedin

Giveaway

One lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code!

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This competition ends on January 4th 2022 at 12am EST. Competition hosted by NineStar Press.

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Dec 07

New Release Blitz ~ A Spoonful of Sugar by AE Lister & Mistletoe Menage by Lily Harlem (Giveaway)

A Spoonful of Sugar by AE Lister
Mistletoe Menage by Lily Harlem

General Release Date: 7th December2021

Genres:

BONDAGE AND BDSM (A Spoonful of Sugar)
CHRISTMAS
CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
GAY
GLBTQI
MÉNAGE AND MULTIPLE PARTNERS

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A Spoonful of Sugar
Mistletoe Menage

Book Description

A Spoonful of Sugar


A kinky interlude over the holidays brings three men closer as their unconventional relationship evolves from casual to serious.

Scott Vernier met Jericho Griffin and Pascal Olejatz at a Halloween party in October and soon became casually involved with the kinky, committed pair.

Over the course of the holidays, the men struggle to find time together outside their busy schedules and finally make space for each other over Christmas week. Scott finds himself craving more of a committed relationship with these wonderful men and tiptoes around the issue to find out if Jericho and Pascal feel the same.

Scott’s dreams of expertly delivered medical play already a vivid reality, the men introduce him to more deliciously subversive scenes including teacher-student role play and invite him to dabble with imaginary non-consent.

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of enema play and imaginary non-consent.

Mistletoe Menage

The winter days might be frosty, but a new guy in town is sure to heat up Father Nicholas and Dr. Zach!

Reverend Nicholas Simmons has traveled a bumpy road before landing in the small town of Mindle with his doctor husband. So, when a new, very sexy, very enticing young man shows interest in them both, he’s reluctant to rock the boat.

Zach, however, can’t keep the flashes of desire from his eyes. He’d never cheat, of course not, but visions of hot threesomes dance in his mind. Will Nicholas ever agree? If so, what would it be like? How hard would they all come?

Brandon isn’t looking forward to his first Christmas in Mindle. He’s alone. Exhausted. Friendless. That is, until he meets the Reverend and Zach. From that first moment he’s equal parts fascinated and turned on by them. Sure, they’re older than he is, but that just heightens his lust and increases his need to get hot, sweaty and naked with them.

Will their romance have a backdrop of tinsel and holly? Can three strong, passionate men truly connect with absolute honesty? And on Christmas night, will they each get the ultimate present—one another—under the tree?

Purchase one or both at First For Romance

About the Authors

AE Lister

AE Lister/Elizabeth Lister is a Canadian non-binary author with a vivid imagination and a head full of unique and interesting characters. They have published 10 books, one of which received an Honorable Mention from the National Leather Association – International for excellence in SM/Leather/Fetish writing.

“Sensual and visceral BDSM.” – Amazon.ca

Find out more about AE Lister at their website, and follow them on Instagram and Facebook. You can join their Facebook group and find out more at their BDSM blog.

Lily Harlem

Award-winning, bestselling author Lily Harlem lives in the UK and is a complete floozy when it comes to genres and pairings, writing from male/female contemporary to gay paranormal and everything in between.

One thing you can be sure of when you pick up a Lily book is heat will rise from the pages and you’ll be reading late into the night! Enjoy!

Giveaway

Enter for the chance to win a $50.00 First for Romance Gift Card!

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Notice: This competition ends on 4th January 2021 at 12am EST. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.

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