Nov 25

New Release Blitz: Hearts of Magic by Kay Doherty (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Hearts of Magic

Series: Chevalier, Book Three

Author: Kay Doherty

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: November 25, 2019

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 40100

Genre: Paranormal, LGBT, gay, asexual, sorcerer, multi-species shifters, pack dynamics, feud, wolf shifters, dragon shifters, bonded mates, Elementals, businessmen, vampires

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Synopsis

A moment of quiet was all Theran was looking for. He was not looking to be nearly decimated when he stumbled across a sorcerer near the pack’s hunting grounds. He’s certainly not looking for his mate when the pack congregates at Elysium for a meeting, but that’s exactly what Theran finds when he runs into the sorcerer a second time.

Colby has been the bartender at Elysium for a year, and he’s been relatively happy. He hides his paranormal identity well, flirting for tips while using sarcasm to keep others away. When he first saw the wolf in the forest, he was stunned. Learning the wolf he’s been dreaming about is real is only compounded by learning the wolf is his mate.

With the Sorcerer’s Enclave now interested in the Chevalier Pack, Colby attempts to protect Theran by kidnapping him, which only results in a deeper involvement with the pack. Despite managing the Enclave, dealing with increasing threats from the McBane Pack, and forging new alliances, Theran and Colby are determined to find their happy ever after.

Excerpt

Hearts of Magic
Kay Doherty © 2019
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
THERAN

Theran watched as the sorcerer flexed his fingers and twisted his wrists. His fingertips turned black, tendrils of darkness snaking up his arm in a sinister web as he focused all his magic into his hands. When he opened his eyes to focus on Theran, the orbs were solid black. The color bled through the man’s long brown hair in streaks. Theran had never met a sorcerer, let alone seen one in action. He had hoped to never witness a sorcerer’s power firsthand, but here he was, facing off with one. For the sorcerer, the timing was impeccable. For Theran, it couldn’t have been worse.

He’d been caught away from the pack. Theran had decided on a walk along the riverbank, enjoying the temperate weather, lost in thought and unaware of how far he’d wandered. When he turned to head back to the rest of the pack, he saw a man standing behind him. The man was young and handsome. Dark hair hung down his back in soft waves, and intelligent caramel-colored eyes had taken in every inch of Theran in a warm caress before going cold. A tiny bell of alarm had rung in the back of Theran’s mind, but he’d ignored the warning. It wasn’t unusual to run into humans in the forest, albeit a joyfully rare occurrence. He’d thought this man was human at first glance.

Now, as Theran watched the sorcerer gather his power for an attack, that small bell of alarm became a blaring howl of fear inside his head. He struggled to wrap his mind around the fact someone so small and gorgeous could become something so terrifying in a matter of seconds. A gray mist formed in the sorcerer’s palms, and Theran took a step back. The mist coalesced to become dark swirling clouds of magic, holding Theran’s attention as he crouched lower to the ground. The sorcerer widened his stance, and Theran’s eyes shot to the man’s face.

“Don’t—” Theran yelled and then shifted.

The transformation destroyed the clothing he’d been wearing and pulled on still-aching bones, but he couldn’t be concerned with that right now. He lunged at the sorcerer in hopes of catching him off guard before he could make those clouds do whatever horribly painful thing they were meant to do. Theran’s bulk collided with the sorcerer’s shoulder, knocking him off-balance and sending those clouds of magic into a nearby tree rather than Theran’s body. The spell nearly cut the tree in half, trunk splintering in all directions.

Theran had intended the hit to knock the smaller man to the ground, but in one fluid motion, the sorcerer spun into a crouch and stopped his momentum with both hands on the ground. He flipped his hair over his shoulder with a toss of his head and once again leveled his coal-black gaze onto Theran. If anyone asked him what he witnessed in that split second, he’d be hard-pressed to explain, the change was so swift. The sorcerer looked at Theran in confusion, and between one blink and the next, his eyes returned to their original caramel color before becoming oily black again. The slight interruption in magic rippled over the sorcerer’s body like the aura from a heat wave. In that brief moment, Theran made a run for it.

The rest of the pack was downriver about a half mile, but in wolf form, he’d be able to close the distance swiftly, though not without some pain. Theran still felt the effects of being slammed into a tree by a vampire a couple of weeks ago—generally when exerting himself excessively. Despite the discomfort, he didn’t slow his pace or look back to see if the sorcerer followed. He didn’t know if magic would allow the man to catch up to him, but Theran truly hoped he could outrun anything the sorcerer might throw his way. He was intelligent enough to know he didn’t stand a chance against a sorcerer alone, but there was strength in numbers. And when Tanner felt the need, the pack became a force to be reckoned with in its own right.

Laughter and conversation could faintly be heard over the thundering of his heart, and he skidded to a halt in the dirt and gravel lining the riverbank. This particular stand of rocks had become the pack’s unofficial gathering point for hunts or simply enjoying the outdoors while meeting. Theran’s sudden and frenzied entrance drew everyone’s attention. Once his momentum ceased, he shifted. When seeking solitude, all the pack members would block the bond so no one else could intrude on his alone time. It hadn’t occurred to Theran in those few short moments, while confronting the sorcerer, to drop the block. None of his pack members knew yet what he’d encountered; what could be coming for them if the sorcerer followed him. Theran rolled his neck and shoulders in an attempt to release some of the tension as he faced Tanner.

“Just got attacked by a sorcerer,” he said between gulping breaths. His heart beat hard and fast, and not solely because of his run for safety. Something else tickled at his subconscious, making him uncomfortable. The sorcerer had looked vaguely familiar, but Theran couldn’t place where he might have seen him before.

“Only one?” Luca asked from his perch on top of the rocks. “That’s unusual.”

“Is it?” Theran asked.

Deacon’s nod drew his attention. Theran took one slow, deep breath in an attempt to bring his heart and lungs back to a normal rhythm.

“Sorcerers don’t typically attack alone. They move in droves,” Deacon said. Ross rubbed up against his mate’s thigh in wolf form. Deacon lovingly smoothed his palm over Ross’s dirty white head and ears. He must have been rolling in the dirt.

Theran shrugged. “Maybe because I was alone? He thought he had the upper hand?”

“No,” Luca said. He rose to his feet and sniffed the air. “More likely he was a scout you stumbled upon, which is concerning. The Enclave hasn’t had a known presence here in over fifty years.”

“Scout or not, just one? Doesn’t make sense,” Deacon said. “One sorcerer might be a match for an ordinary pack of wolves, but this pack? Hell, the wolves aside, you or I alone could annihilate him.”

“Yet, one sorcerer is lethal to a vampire.”

Sakima appeared beside Luca on the rocks. The entire pack twitched in surprise, except for Vance who chuckled. Sakima and Vance had mated, but Sakima had yet to bond with the rest of the pack, so Vance was the only one who always knew where the vampire was. The pair certainly seemed to enjoy the vampire sneaking up on everyone. They all turned annoyed glares on Sakima, who offered only a fanged smile in response. As Sakima’s words sank in, Vance’s smile disappeared.

“You said lethal?” Vance asked, his amusement changing to distress.

Sakima gazed down at his wolf mate with affection. “Yes, lethal. Their magic, when inhaled by a vampire, attaches to the mutated DNA that makes us what we are and destroys it. The result is death.” Vance’s face lost all color. Within the blink of an eye, Sakima appeared at his side. Vance held on to his mate with a fierce grip while Sakima kissed his temple. “Shh, my pet. I will take precautions.”

The wolves instinctively drew closer together in support and protection of their Omega.

“How does one inhale magic?” Tanner asked Sakima.

“They make clouds of it,” Theran, remembering the misty stuff the sorcerer had conjured, answered before Sakima.

“Clouds?” Tanner, Ean, and Vance asked at once.

“Yes. He did this—” Theran mimicked the hand motions he’d seen the sorcerer make. “—and made clouds in his palms. He threw them at me but hit a tree instead. Blew it apart.”

“Great,” Ean said. “Exploding clouds of poisonous magic. Just what we need.”

Ean picked up a rock near his feet and launched it across the river. His moods had grown increasingly dark over the past months, and he was quick to anger. By all appearances, Ean’s decline had started when Matthias showed up at the pack house and only grew worse the longer the centuries-old dragon stuck around. The two were at each other’s throats when they chose to speak to one another at all.

“Everyone back to the house. We need to be someplace defensible while we regroup, and the human neighbors will keep all paranormals on a level field. Luca, Sakima, Deacon, and I will meet with Matthias to figure out the best plan of action with this new development,” Tanner said.

A blur of motion drew Theran’s attention to where Sakima and Vance had been standing, but he only saw empty space. The vampire had a habit of whisking Vance away without notice. The rest of the pack began the hike up the trailhead to where the vehicles were parked. Luca held Tanner’s hand as they walked side by side up the hill. Deacon fisted the white scruff of Ross’s neck as he led him up the trail behind Tanner, leaving Theran and Ean to bring up the rear.

Ean took his time approaching Theran, heralding his reluctance to return to the house. He’d confessed to Theran once that he was uncomfortable in the pack house, which was the exact opposite of how it should be. Theran felt his friend’s discomfort as if it were his own, but he had no idea what to do about it, especially when he didn’t know exactly what caused it. He took comfort in the fact Ean at least hadn’t talked about leaving the pack. He’d become Tanner’s Beta recently and was flourishing in his role. Ean was a natural leader and, in any other pack, may have one day become Alpha.

“You should shift,” Ean said as he finally joined Theran, and they started up the trail together. “Don’t want to shock the little old lady across the street with your lily-white ass.”

“You mean old lady McKinzey?” Theran scoffed. “She’s more likely to snap a picture or cop a feel than be shocked.”

Ean gave a slight smile at Theran’s exaggerated shudder. He continued up the hill as Theran stopped to shift and then ran to catch up to his pack mate.

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Meet the Author

Kay Doherty is an omnisexual/polysexual who lives in Colorado with her poly-family, Mike, Keri, and Tigz. Her house is overrun with cats and dogs. Family is important to her so there are daily texts, frequent visits to her parents, and constant banter with her brothers. She happily suffers a severe addiction to coffee and Mexican food. She loves to read and write and can easily become consumed by it for hours, much to the dismay of Mike and Keri (Tigz is an enabler). On occasion she can be convinced to venture out into the world of the living despite being annoyed by the sun shining in her face.

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Nov 25

New Release Blitz: A Broken Winter by Kale Night (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  A Broken Winter

Author: Kale Night

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: November 25, 2019

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 81000

Genre: Science Fiction/Fantasy, LGBT, Fantasy, futuristic, hurt/comfort, soul mates, re-incarnation, political terrorism, prison, religious extremism, scientist

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Synopsis

General Auryn Tyrus is tired of serving an emperor who turns political dissidents into expensive steak and claims to have swallowed Ankari’s sun. He is fed up with pretending not to know Emperor Haken is buying biological weapons and collecting taxes for a war that doesn’t exist. Auryn’s role in the entire mirage leads him to drastic choices, but unexpected news halts his plans. Seven-year-old Keita Kaneko, the son of a former lover, is captured by the emperor’s special forces. Auryn secretly intervenes and spares Keita from execution.

Keita changes everything. Instead of feeling helpless and oppressed by a self-proclaimed living god, Auryn works to expose the emperor as a fraud. But he knows exactly will happen if he’s discovered, and the extent of Emperor Haken’s lies is worse than anticipated. If Auryn expects anyone to believe the truth, he’s going to need proof. And a lot of help.

Excerpt

A Broken Winter
Kale Night © 2019
All Rights Reserved

Freezing to death took longer than expected. Auryn hadn’t moved in over an hour, lying in the snow, staring up at the stars. His toes burned and his bare fingers prickled painfully, flushed red from the cold. He’d considered a variety of other options, including shooting himself in the head, but feared screwing up and adding a traumatic brain injury to his list of grievances. He thought about hanging himself from a peach tree in Building A, but the fruit was being harvested and there were too many people around, even at night.

Forced to decide quickly, he hopped in a snowcrawler and sped off. He could’ve kept going, travelling beyond the oxygenated zone, opting for death by hypoxia, but he pulled over and picked a final resting place.

The radio in his earpiece crackled. The Special Activities Division were getting closer. It wouldn’t be long before they reached their target, terrorist Reisen Kaneko. Auryn hadn’t seen Reisen in over a decade, but his fondness for the man remained intact, uneroded by the passage of time. He’d hoped they’d be reunited one day, despite how impossible it was. No chance of that now. Abandoning his delusions meant being left with nothing, crippled under the weight of reality and longing for oblivion.

Countless stars illuminated the sky, radiant mothers to other worlds, a painful reminder of their own orphaned condition. His Holiness Emperor Haken swallowed planet Ankari’s sun centuries ago—punishment for widespread civil disobedience, or so the story went. While Emperor Haken’s fire-swallowing abilities were never questioned, it was whispered he may have simply taken credit for a dying sun’s disappearance. This explanation made sense to Auryn, but Reisen loved tearing it apart.

“A sun like ours doesn’t die the way most people expect it to. It burns bigger and brighter, swelling like an infected gash, incinerating planets nurtured from their inception. The final act of a deranged mother. Ankari is close enough to the sun that we’d all be burned alive instead of freezing our asses off.

“If the sun did disappear, it wasn’t due to natural causes.”

The radio blared with activity. Target location reached.

This was it. If he had any sense, he’d turn the radio off, but he needed to be sure someone hadn’t made a mistake.

Entrance is clear. Living room clear. Kitchen clear.

His heart pounded, chest constricting painfully.

Door’s locked. We’re going to break it down.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

There’s someone in the bed.

Auryn closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. The cold air choked him, scratching his throat and lungs like tiny, frozen thorns.

It’s a fucking kid. We do not have Kaneko. Repeat. We do not have Kaneko.

He struggled into a seated position, limbs stiff and heavy.

Kid says he’s Kaneko’s son. We’re bringing him in for questioning.

He pulled his hat and gloves back on, skin on fire. Reisen’s son would be sent to the capital and interrogated, treated not like a human being, but as an opportunity for promotion.

Auryn extracted himself from the snowbank he’d intended to be his tomb. He knew where they’d send the boy when they were done with him. Exhibiting the motor skills of a two-year-old, he climbed into his snowcrawler and turned the machine around, heading back to the Farm.

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Meet the Author

Kale currently resides outside a small town in northern Alberta, where she works in a library. She’s an avid reader with an English degree from the University of Calgary. In her spare time Kale loves playing video games, making chain maille, watching anime, and cultivating a steadily expanding bonsai collection.

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Nov 18

Audio Blitz: Starting from Scratch by Lane Hayes

Title: Starting From Scratch

Series: Starting From, #2

Author: Lane Hayes

Narrator: Michael Pauley

Publisher: Lane Hayes

Original Release Date: October 17, 2019

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 8 hrs and 22 mins

Genre: Romance, Bisexual, Enemies to lovers, Rock and roll, Hurt-comfort, Opposites attract

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Synopsis

Charlie Rourke is an ultra fabulous human whirlwind on a mission to launch the next biggest band in the world. However, he might have taken on more than he could handle when he signed on to manage Zero. Promoting a rock band and finding gigs shouldn’t be hard. They’re a talented group with a ton of star power. If Charlie can find the right record label, he’s sure he can help them get to the next level. The only problem is the skater boy slash bassist with a quirky sense of humor. He’s annoying and silly, and he’s exactly Charlie’s type. Except he’s straight.

Ky Baldwin isn’t afraid to switch things up. He loves a challenge as much as anyone, but Charlie doesn’t make things easy. Zero’s manager is a force of nature with a razor sharp tongue, a quick wit, and a no-nonsense attitude. Ky can’t stop thinking about him. Winning over Charlie becomes Ky’s pet project. But when the ice between them thaws, neither is prepared for the intensity of going from enemies to lovers. They’ll have to decide if they’re willing to start from scratch and take a chance on the unexpected.

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Meet the Author

Lane Hayes is grateful to finally be doing what she loves best. Writing full-time! It’s no secret Lane loves a good romance novel. An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to well-told love story with beautifully written characters. These days she prefers the leading roles to both be men. Lane discovered the M/M genre a few years ago and was instantly hooked. Her debut novel was a 2013 Rainbow Award finalist and subsequent books have received Honorable Mentions, and won First Prize in the 2016 and 2017 Rainbow Awards. She loves red wine, chocolate and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband in a newly empty nest.

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Meet the Narrator

Michael has well over 50 audio book titles currently available for purchase on Audible.com. He is versed in multiple styles and genres including fiction (novels and short stories) ranging from romance to science fiction to crime dramas to thrillers; business strategy books; health and wellness books; and even an occasional children’s book.

Fans of Michael’s narration are welcome to follow him on social media including Facebook,  Twitter,  Instagram,  YouTube,  and SoundCloud.

If you are interested in working with Michael to produce your next audio book, you can contact him directly at acx@michaelpauley.info

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Nov 18

New Release Blitz: Peter Cratchit’s Christmas Carol by Drew Marvin Frayne (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Peter Cratchit’s Christmas Carol

Author: Drew Marvin Frayne

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: November 18, 2019

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 36100

Genre: Historical Holiday, LGBT, Christmas, romance, fairy tale, businessmen, ghost, prostitution, poverty, 19th century England, pirates, tear-jerker, time travel

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Synopsis

Peter Cratchit, a young lad preparing to make his way in the world, is the eldest son of Scrooge’s lowly clerk Bob Cratchit. Peter flourishes under the tutelage of his “Uncle” Scrooge and seeks to make his mark as a man of business, like his uncle before him.

One Christmas Eve, as Scrooge lays dying, Peter embarks on a risky ocean voyage that he believes will secure the future for his family. Onboard, Peter finds love, happiness, and success, only to lose it all by the voyage’s end.

Returning to London, Peter shuns his family and instead finds himself living on the streets, haunted by his failures and his dead lover, selling his body just to survive while he waits for the winter cold to claim him once and for all. But winter snows also mean Christmas is coming, and for the Cratchit family, Christmas is a time of miracles. Can a visit from three familiar spirits change Peter’s life again? Is there one more miracle in store for the lost son of one of Dickens’ most enduring families?

Excerpt

Peter Cratchit’s Christmas Carol
Drew Marvin Frayne © 2019
All Rights Reserved

Scrooge was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. He died some two years past on this very day, Christmas Eve. I would it were not so; yet I suspect the old man would not agree. He became rather infirm at the end, frail and forgetful, and though he did his best to remain cheerful, I know he hated to show weakness of any kind. It wasn’t a matter of pride, nor vanity; no, it wasn’t for his sake that he cared so. It was that, as he himself often said, he had become a sort of safeguard, a protector, to his family and to his community, and he hated the thought of us carrying on without him there, watching over us all. And we, of course, would clasp his hand and tell him that he would be looking over us in the next life, and that such thoughts brought us great comfort, and they should bring him great comfort too. And he would sigh, and agree with us, and settle in, at least for a while, until another great spasm wracked his breast, and his chest would heave with immense, raggedy gasps for air, and his worries arose all over again.

He died a good death, if it could be said that any death should be regarded as good. Though I have not spent nearly as many years as Scrooge did on this planet, I have knocked about a bit, and circumstance has shown me both great fortune and great tragedy. And as such, I have come to believe there is no good death to be had in this world. I have seen many poor wretches, past all hope of recovery from whatever it was that ailed them—whether it be an infliction of the body or the soul—beg for death, pray for it, and have watched it come in many guises, be it the cold, or the cough, or the cutthroat. I have seen their prayers answered, even if those answers came in some form of pain they had never envisioned. And yet I say, when the end did finally come, each and every one begged to stay, begged for their final breath to be forestalled, begged to live for even one moment more. Yea, though I have been on this world for less than a quarter of a century, I have come to know its horrors and have learned the greatest horror of all is that there is no world, no life, beyond this one.

Scrooge would not have agreed with this; oft he told us the tale of his visitation by his old friend, Jacob Marley, dead seven years in the grave before his return, and the further visitations by the three spirits who haunted him, also on a Christmas Eve. To Scrooge, there was no greater evidence of providence than this, and he lived such feelings in his heart for the rest of his life. I was glad of it; we all were, all of London town, though those of us who were closest to him felt his change of heart and his largesse most keenly. And many was the time, as a young man, on a Christmas Eve like this one, I sat cross-legged on the floor at Scrooge’s feet and listened to his tales of Christmas ghosts and astonishing spirits, of visitations to the past, and of the wondrous things that are yet to come.

Yet even then, I was a skeptic. After his tale was complete, Old Scrooge, as wise at reading faces as he was at managing his business, would frequently tousle my hair and tell me, “Young Master Peter, you must have the conviction of your faith. It is not enough to simply believe; you must know Christmas, and keep it in your heart all the year long.” Such words were enough for Tim and for the others; but I, I would only smile, and say, “Yes, Uncle Scrooge,” in a manner and tone that were always respectful, but that the cunning old man also knew to be mollifying. And Scrooge would then bend quite low—for he was a tall, wizened old fellow, and I have always been inclined to be undersized—and he would say to me, “You must not fear the world so much, Peter Cratchit.” And I would nod, and he would pat my cheek, or sometimes playfully pinch my nose. But what he meant by those words, I cannot say. In my experience, there is much to fear in this world, and much calamity the world will set upon the unwary soul who is not ever vigilant.

A growl in my stomach disturbed my thoughts. Time to dispense with these ruminations on the past; I was hungry. I willed my body out of its bed, a small recess in the side of a crumbling brick building used for the storage of livestock, a cramped pen to house the beasts before they were led to slaughter. The recess provided some shelter from the elements; there had been rain last night, so it was useful to keep dry, though the rain had been only a drizzle, and the weather was unseasonably temperate for so late in December. That was no small mercy.

The recess had once been a side door, now sealed up, when the building had been used for some other purpose, long forgotten to time. The smell of animal excrement that clung to the building—and to those who worked or, like me, dwelt within her—was formidable, but it also meant the alley I called my home remained deserted during the nightly hours. Safety in this life often comes at great cost. Those who have suffered at the world’s hands know this lesson all too well. The men who tended the animals had assembled a small cleaning station, clean water and a strong lye soap, behind the building, and they charitably did not begrudge my use of it from time to time, provided I did not tarry, and they did not see me. I hastened in my morning ablutions and made my way out to the street.

There was a bakery on Saint Martin’s Close; it was there I would seek to break my fast. Every morning, my repast was the same: two hot buttered rolls and a small tankard of ale. The only difference was whether the baker would tally the cost of his labors on my tongue or on my tail.

I made my way down Carol Street to the main Camden Road. I used to live on this very road, as a youth, but far down the other end from those places where I now worked and resided. Camden Town was named for Camden Road; the road was the heart of the ward, bisecting it in the north and making up the entirety of its western edge. It was impossible to be in Camden Town and avoid the Camden Road. And yet, in all of my wanderings through this neighborhood, I always avoided the familiar façade of my former house, with its chipped paint and ill-fitted front door. I was more interested in the thick, oaken door that led to the alley behind the bakery, where the business received deliveries of flour and other such supplies. I knocked. Some days, the baker answered promptly, as if expecting me; other days, like today, I had to wait. He was a busy man, having woke well before the dawn to assemble his breads and rolls and pastries and cakes. His bakery was a small one, but he did a good measure of custom, enough to keep him in flour and dough and sugar and coal for the ovens. Still, he had only one boy to help him prepare the daily wares—in this neighborhood, even relative prosperity resulted in genuine poverty.

Whether the boy was his son, or some urchin off the street, I do not know. The baker and I did not converse on such matters. It was, in part, because the man’s well of English was so deficient that any conversation would prove inconsequential at best. I could not identify his native tongue, and he spoke only the English of a tradesman and knew the terms for barter and exchange, and little more. My own English improved greatly under the tutelage of Ebenezer Scrooge, who gave me books to read and provided college-trained tutors to sharpen my intellect. I was beyond basic schooling by the time our families came together; but my mind was quick and hungered for knowledge, and Uncle Scrooge filled it with book after book on all manner of subjects—history, literature, economics, philosophy, mythology, the principles of business. I eagerly took it all in, save perhaps the poets, who I found too disordered, too insubstantial, to truly relish. Still, for an occasion such as this, the silver portion of my tongue was not really necessary. It was my tongue’s other talents that the baker was interested in. I suppose, in the end, this, like so much in life, was simply a matter of business. I needed what the baker had to offer; he felt the same. Talk would only prolong the necessities of exchange.

The man finally answered and hurried me inside. In nicer weather, he sometimes took his payment in the alley, but he did not like the cold and the damp, so he ushered me into a cramped cookery room stuffed with coal- and wood-burning ovens. I had no objection to being enveloped in warmth; it made for a pleasant change of atmosphere from my usual status at this time of year.

I could see by the sights and sounds of his distresses that my morning patron was more harried than usual. His eyes were darting around the room. His gestures were quick, and rough, and impatient. He was a large, hirsute man, with a rotund belly and a gray, prickly beard, which, at the moment, was dusted in a rather generous supply of flour.

I was no longer fond of beards; I generally preferred smooth-faced youths, like myself, and not the wooly chins of older men, though, in my line of work, older men were my main custom. And this was business, not pleasure, and the baker felt the same as I, especially today. Even as he penned me into his back kitchen, he continued to bellow orders to the boy out front. I often wondered what the boy thought of our exchanges. Perhaps it was of no consequence to him. Perhaps he was grateful he did not have to provide a similar service. Or perhaps he did. Who can say.

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Meet the Author

Drew Marvin Frayne is the pen name of a long-time author (Lambda Literary Award finalist) who is finally taking the opportunity to indulge his more sentimental and romantic side. When not writing the author lives with his husband of 20+ years and their dog of 10+ years in a brick home in the Northeast.  Find out more on Drew’s Website.

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Nov 18

New Release Blitz: Snowdrop in a Storm by Ava Kelly (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Snowdrop in a Storm

Series: Snow Globes, Book Three

Author: Ava Kelly

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: November 18, 2019

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 18300

Genre: Contemporary Holiday, LGBT, contemporary, gay, pansexual, trans, interracial/intercultural, holiday, Christmas, established couple, children, panic attack, grief, family drama, teachers

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Synopsis

Daniel Wu’s life is wonderful. He has an amazing family in his partner, Jeff, and their adopted daughter. The only thorn in his happiness is Abby’s biological father, Nick, who can’t seem to let go of the past.

Ridden by guilt for trying to tear apart Jeff’s family a year prior, Nick Mariani struggles to find a place for himself in a future that seems bleak. With the backdrop of a holiday vacation, he embarks on a journey of redemption. An unexpected surprise is Leon, who flirts shamelessly from the moment they meet. Leon brings Nick hope, but the shadows of the past threaten to swallow all that newfound brightness.

Excerpt

Snowdrop in a Storm
Ava Kelly © 2019
All Rights Reserved

“We are so going to regret this,” Daniel said with a sigh.

He smiled as he blew over his teacup, and from across the breakfast counter, Jeff grinned at him. He’d already packed their lunches for Daniel’s last day of work and Abby’s last day of school. Their suitcases were waiting upstairs, almost ready. In the morning they’d be on a plane.

For the first time in his many years working as a teacher, Daniel Wu’s winter vacation would begin a week early. As a supervisor, he would accompany a handful of lucky eight-year-old chess club enthusiasts for a training tournament in the picturesque snow-covered Austrian Alps. Daniel looked forward to showing Jeff and Abby one of the places he’d enjoyed the most during his travels.

A pancake flipped through the air and returned with a sizzle to the pan. Jeff shook his head, his excitement contagious.

“We’ll be fine. Between you and me and Amber and Nick, I think we can wrangle a bunch of kids.”

Jeff had a point. It shouldn’t be much harder than keeping an entire class in line during museum trips, especially with so many adults supervising. He just couldn’t help but worry a little, planning for disasters and busted knees and special dietary requirements.

“Besides,” Jeff continued, “other teachers will be there, won’t they? With the other teams.”

“Yep,” Daniel agreed.

The pension hotel they’d be staying at had been reserved to host a mini-tournament of the International Chess Club that Amber had convinced Daniel to join. As a novice teacher, Amber had needed someone else to co-supervise the school’s club. Honestly, it had been a good thing. Some of the kids—Abby especially—had taken to it incredibly quickly during the first months of the semester, and now, they were set to start participating in competitions. One of the perks of the ICC was the winter gatherings that served as practice before the summer tournaments. And some of next year’s teams in Abby’s age group would be present at the resort. It opened up opportunities to meet new kids, learn new things.

Nothing came without a price, however, and Daniel suspected he’d pay for this trip with his patience and a few white hairs. He was excited, for several reasons, and yet—

Some of his ambivalence must have been visible because Jeff said, “Don’t pout,” his smile just as bright as he pushed over a full plate.

“I’m not pouting.” Daniel pulled the flattest expression he could. “My face is poutless, see?”

“Sure.” Jeff looked at the ceiling. “Abby! Breakfast!”

She came thundering down the stairs, hair tied crookedly in two braids falling over her shoulders. She’d been getting better at doing them herself, with a determination Daniel figured she extracted from her passion of all things Wednesday Addams, but she still had a ways to go. It was a matter of practice. Abby waved the tip of a braid at him, a question mumbled around her mouthful of pancake.

“They’re better today,” he said.

“The best,” Jeff added with a pat to her head.

Abby’s teeth were smeared with jam as she grinned.

“Mouth closed,” Daniel chastised, gently, and heard Jeff’s lips smack against each other.

He laughed—couldn’t not with his precious persons. The happiness of it stung behind his eyes for a moment, and he took a deep breath.

“What am I going to do with you two, huh?”

“I guess you’ll have to love us,” Jeff singsonged in a bad rendition of The Addams Family tune, and Abby snapped her fingers at the end.

Daniel shoved a forkful in his mouth just so he wouldn’t blurt, “Marry me,” to Jeff right then and there.

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Meet the Author

Ava Kelly is an engineer with a deep passion for stories. Whether reading, watching, or writing them, Ava has always been surrounded by tales of all genres. Their goal is to bring more stories to life, especially those of friendship and compassion, those dedicated to trope subversion, those that give the void a voice, and those that spawn worlds of their own.

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Nov 18

New Release Blitz: Double Six by Brenda Murphy (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Double Six

Series: Rowan House, Book Five

Author: Brenda Murphy

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: November 18, 2019

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female, Female/Female Menage

Length: 63500

Genre: Contemporary, LGBT, Contemporary, romance, BDSM, interracial, ménage, switch, edge play, knife play, pain play, extortion, kidnapping, Oslo, Norway, Isle of Skye

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Synopsis

Elaine MacLeod, the most feared and revered Mistress of Rowan House, is frustrated. Overworked, still hurt and angry over the departure of her long-term lover, she refuses to admit Rowan House needs another Mistress to accommodate their guests. Unconvinced anyone will be able to meet her high standards, Elaine grudgingly agrees to audition the sole applicant, Petra Grendhal.

Robin Broadacre would do anything for the woman who rescued her from certain death at the hands of her previous employers. When she volunteers to assist Petra with her audition, Elaine is forced to reckon with her desire for Robin. Drawn to Petra’s fiery strength and icy demeanor as well Robin’s devotion, Elaine finds herself torn between her passion for both women. When Petra disappears on a trip to Oslo, Elaine and Robin’s search leads them to menaces from Robin’s past and a fight for their lives.

Excerpt

Double Six
Brenda Murphy © 2019
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
“Are you sure this is what we need?” Elaine lowered the hairbrush and shifted her gaze to Martha’s face, reflected in the dressing table mirror.

Martha quirked her mouth. “We’ve been over this. Just give her a chance. You can’t keep up with our client requests.”

Elaine tossed the brush on the top of the dressing table. “Because you and Lucia don’t help.” She swept her titian hair back and up into a high ponytail.

Martha handed her an elastic. “We’re not having this argument again. Lucia and I are finished with that side of the business. We can’t keep putting people off or they’ll find other houses to visit.

Elaine knotted a hunter-green ribbon in her hair. “Oh please. Like they could find anyone like me. Or what we offer here.” She shoved away from the vanity and turned to face her sister. “Fine. We’ll see how she handles herself. But the timing sucks.”

Martha placed her hands on her sister’s shoulders. “We had to work with the dates she gave us. Lucia thinks she’d be a good fit. We’ve had our trip planned for a long time. We trust you to make a good decision.

Alone. Again. “I’m not worried about making a wrong decision. Who’ll sub for her? Benita and Fallon are on holiday. No one else likes heavy pain play.”

Martha grinned wickedly at Elaine. “Maybe you could give it a go?”

Elaine rolled her eyes at her sister. “The switch gene is not in me. Go on, go on your holiday. I’ll figure it out.” Somehow. Damn, I miss Roxy.

Lucia and Myfanwy stood next to the car, their breath visible as they chatted in the frosty gray morning. Millie loaded the last of their luggage into the trunk and closed the lid gently. Martha placed her hand on Elaine’s forearm. “You have our itinerary. We can return if it’s an emergency”—she straightened to her full height and squared her shoulders—“but we are not to be disturbed unless it is.”

Elaine rolled her eyes at her sister. “Yes, sister dear, goddess forbid I interrupt your honeymoon. Like you haven’t already had one. I won’t bother you.” She let the devil show in her eyes. “I expect you’ll be tied up.”

Martha settled her fedora on her head. “I’m not going to waste my time replying to that, and please for the love of all that’s good, try to get along with Petra. We don’t have any other candidates.”

“So we should settle?” Elaine placed her hand on her hip.

“No one is saying settle. What I am saying is do not make a snap judgment. Or piss her off so much she leaves.”

Elaine shrugged. “If she can’t stand the heat…”

“Martha, we need to leave now.” Lucia spoke over Elaine, her voice a soft command. “I’m sure Elaine and Petra will sort things.”

“See, even your Miss agrees.” Elaine smirked at Martha.

Martha smiled at Elaine, not giving her the argument she craved. “Try it some time. You might find you like it.”

“Ha. A cold day in hell. Go now or you’ll miss the ferry.”

Martha gave Elaine a quick hard hug before she hurried down the steps to the car.

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Meet the Author

Brenda Murphy writes short fiction and novels. She loves tattoos and sideshows, and yes, those are her monkeys. When she is not swilling gallons of hot tea and writing, she wrangles two kids, two dogs, and one unrepentant parrot. She writes about life, books, and writing on her blog Writing While Distracted.

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Nov 18

New Release Blitz: Before the Fall by SA Collins (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Before the Fall

Series: Angels of Mercy, Book Two

Author: SA Collins

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: November 18, 2019

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 102200

Genre: Contemporary, LGBT, Contemporary, family-drama, gay, new adult, high school, sports, athlete, in the closet

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Synopsis

Elliot Donahey is an out young queer boy—artistic, empathic, and full of secret passions. He is a boy seeking protective shadows where he can hide from those who don’t understand him…and to provide him with the means of surviving one more hellish day of high school.

When Elliot finds himself in the arms of Marco Sforza, a boy who is made to bask in the light of fame and success, shadows and light take on a whole new meaning. Marco’s rising star as the quarterback of the Mercy High Avenging Angels may come crashing down around him if his relationship with Elliot is discovered. And Marco’s past of playing a ladies man convincing his teammates he’s one of them will pose problems that Marco’s teammates have to deal with.

Can Marco and Elliot find their romance in the sun, or will those who profess to be close to them tear them apart?

Excerpt

Before the Fall
SA Collins © 2019
All Rights Reserved

I’ll fight for you…

The phone buzzed, and the screen was replaced by Marco’s glorious face. I nearly dropped the damned thing because it surprised me when it went off, as if he could sense I was reaching out across the ether to him. I was reaching and as usual he was there.

His smile glowed from my phone, and tears fell, blurring and obscuring his glorious and transcendent beauty. It kept buzzing, waiting for me to answer it—each throbbing, rattling motion pleading for me to answer his call.

One more ring and it’ll slip to voice mail. I declined the call—hating myself to hell and gone for doing so, knowing he wouldn’t let it go. A beat.

No voice mail.

Another call.

I let it ring through, sagging against my pillow and weeping like the fucking social retard I was. And I am not the type of person to use the word retard with ease. If I used it, I fucking meant it. And in reference to me, I meant it. Deeply. I was an inept and undeserving boyfriend. He was mythic; he was a god. A god who stumbled, but didn’t they all in those mythic legends? Why should my guy be any different? I was the little fag boy who belonged in the shadows. I deserved to be cast back there—where I belonged.

No voice mail.

I should’ve answered. A reminder that there were a great many things I should’ve…but didn’t. I rolled over in my bed, clutching the pillow closer to me.

Silence, oppressive and weighted, pressed in around me.

The phone buzzed.

I picked it up and looked at the text from Marco.

Marco Sforza: I get it. I’ll leave you alone. Good night, my dearest love…miss you—M

I broke.

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Meet the Author

SA “Baz” Collins hails from the San Francisco Bay Area where he lives with his husband, and a Somali cat named Zorro. A classically trained singer/actor (under a different name), Baz knows a good yarn when he sees it.

Based on years of his work as an actor, Baz specializes in character study pieces. It is more important for him that the reader comes away with a greater understanding of the characters and the reasons they make the decisions they do, rather than the situations they are in. It is this deep dive into their manners, their experiences and how they process the world around them that make up the body of Mr. Collins’ work.

You can find his works at sacollins.com and as a co-host/producer of the wrotepodcast.com series.

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Nov 11

New Release Blitz: Holiday Gridlock by Gretchen Evans (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Holiday Gridlock

Series: Cruised, Book Two

Author: Gretchen Evans

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: November 11, 2019

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 18600

Genre: Contemporary Holiday, LGBT, contemporary, holiday, Christmas, age-gap, interracial

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Synopsis

Gabe is way too happy. Mark is as close to a perfect boyfriend as you can get. He’s smart, good-looking, successful, and he cares about Gabe. He’s also way more serious about their relationship than Gabe’s ready for. He wants them to move in together.

The closest Gabe’s ever gotten to living with a boyfriend is accidentally leaving his boxers behind. But he and Mark are way past that. It’s terrifying.

Mark invites Gabe home for the holidays where Gabe gets an intimate look at Mark’s family, his childhood, and how different their Christmas traditions are. It’s loud, overwhelming, messy, and…really nice. Homey in a way Gabe’s never experienced.

But Mark wants more than for Gabe to just have a peek at this part of his life. He wants Gabe to become part of the family, to go to bed with him every night, and wake up with him every morning. He wants all their Christmases to be together. Moving in may be just the start.

It might take a Christmas miracle for Gabe to figure himself out and overcome his fears. Or maybe a little familial intervention.

Will Gabe and Mark take the next step, or will they get stuck in holiday gridlock?

Excerpt

Holiday Gridlock
Gretchen Evans © 2019
All Rights Reserved

DECEMBER 17TH
Pressure squeezed Gabe’s sinuses like a vice. A vice might be too extreme. More like he’d walked into a wall repeatedly, and now his entire face ached.

He blew his nose for the hundredth time. It wasn’t much relief. The best he could do was snuggle deeper into the nest of blankets he’d assembled on his couch and pray for the sweet release of death.

The scratch of a key turning the old, cheap lock on his front door roused him. The light coming through the blinds had dimmed a lot, and the Netflix “Are you still watching?” glared at him from the TV. He must have dozed off watching Planet Earth. Thank God for Nyquil.

No point in getting up. Only one person had a key to his apartment: Mark. If it wasn’t Mark, that meant someone was picking his lock and planned to rob him. Good. They could take whatever they wanted as long as they took this damn cold too.

“Hello!” Mark called from the hall.

Gabe managed to sit up, sort of. “In here,” he called out, voice cracking.

Mark appeared in the living room doorway wearing a devastatingly handsome three-piece gray suit. Gabe was sick, not dead. He could appreciate his sexy his boyfriend in almost any state. Mark gripped a brown paper Whole Foods bag in his hand.

His boyfriend. It was a thrill to think about. How often did a gorgeous, successful man you met on a hookup app turn out to actually be gorgeous and successful? And then be as interested in you as you were in him? Their early days of hooking up in public bathrooms—and one memorable time, a parking lot—were behind them. But those were some nice memories.

They had gone from an awkward “hey, let’s try this” to practically living in each other’s back pockets in only a few months. Gabe hadn’t had many relationships and sometimes felt a little lost at sea. But when Mark was with him, that didn’t seem to matter.

Mark’s legs were long, and Gabe’s apartment was small, so it only took a couple steps for Mark to reach him. He dropped the groceries on the battered coffee table and bent to kiss the top of Gabe’s curls.

“How are you feeling?”

Gabe pulled himself up to sit a little higher. “Like shit.”

Smiling, Mark smoothed back Gabe’s hair. Gabe stretched into it like a cat begging to be petted. It didn’t make his nightmare of a cold go away any faster, but it certainly made him feel better. He didn’t want Mark to stop but… “You’re going to get sick.”

“Maybe, but I take my vitamins.” Mark pulled away, picking up the grocery bag as he walked toward the kitchen. “I brought you dinner.”

Food sounded unappealing. He couldn’t taste anything. Couldn’t smell anything. It was like putting cardboard in his mouth.

Mark slung his jacket over the top of the lonely stool Gabe had at his breakfast bar, leaving him in white shirtsleeves and a vest that hugged his waist perfectly. He propped himself against the counter, rolling up his sleeves. Gabe could see the bulge of the veins in Mark’s forearms from the couch.

“I’m cheating a little.” He pulled a plastic tub with something gross-looking sloshing against its sides and a shrink-wrapped pack of chicken cut into bite-size pieces from the bag. “Premade stock and precooked chicken. Good chicken soup takes time, so we’ll make do with this. Add some fresh vegetables and noodles and it’s almost like the real thing.”

There was nothing like seeing a man who made your heart pound, dressed like that, proposing to make nearly homemade chicken soup just because you were sick. How could Gabe say no to dinner now?

He watched through the tiny opening between the breakfast bar and the kitchen as Mark quietly went about his business. Mark knew where the pots and pans were, where the cutting board and sharpest knife were kept. He knew to use the front left burner because the others were bent and the pot would wobble. Gabe hadn’t realized Mark paid so much attention to his dingy little kitchen.

They cooked dinner together often, but usually at Mark’s much nicer condo. His kitchen had granite countertops and an oven that didn’t burn things. Watching Mark move so effortlessly around Gabe’s space settled something warm and heavy in Gabe’s chest. Something that wasn’t congestion.

He must have dozed off again because suddenly Mark nudged his elbow with one hand and held out a steaming bowl of soup with the other.

“Here. Eat some soup and drink some water; then you can go back to sleep.”

Gabe sat up, his back against the armrest and legs stretched out in front of him, and took the bowl. The steam felt good against his face as he tried to smell it. “You gonna tuck me in?”

Mark balanced his own bowl of soup as he lifted Gabe’s legs to sit on the couch. He lowered Gabe’s legs back to his lap and made sure Gabe’s feet were covered before picking up his spoon. “You are far too sick to be lascivious.”

“Nice SAT word. And anyway, I read an article about how regular sex can help fight off colds.”

Taking a long moment to bring the spoon to his lips, Mark delayed answering. He shot a wicked grin at Gabe after he swallowed. “I thought you were worried about getting me sick.”

Touché.

“How do you feel about sex with hospital masks?”

“Decidedly unsexy.”

“Spoil sport.”

Gabe turned back to his soup. He couldn’t taste it, but it was warm and made his throat feel better. He managed most of it but left a lot of the noodles behind before Mark took the bowl from him.

Sounds of running water and clinking dishes came from the kitchen as Gabe snuggled down in his blankets. He found the remote wedged between the back of the couch and the cushion and clicked on the Antarctica episode of Planet Earth. That was a good one.

He hummed as Mark settled on the couch, putting Gabe’s legs in his lap again.

“This the one with the whales?”

Gabe hummed again, his eyelids sliding closed.

“Do you want me to wake you up before I go so you can go to bed? Or do you want to sleep on the couch?” Mark’s voice was quiet, and his palm rubbed circles on Gabe’s calf, which was not going to help him stay awake.

“How long are you staying?”

“At least until I see some whales. That’s the only reason I came over.”

Gabe tried for a playful kick, but even that took too much energy. It looked more like an uncoordinated leg spasm. Mark laughed at him anyway. Gabe refused to rise to the bait. Instead, he purposefully shut his eyes and went to sleep.

The next time he came to, it was dark outside, but a soft glow filled his apartment. Mark must have turned on a lamp. Gabe stretched his legs. Mark wasn’t on the couch with him anymore. He must have gone home.

There was a little dip of sadness in Gabe’s chest at the thought.

The dip didn’t last long. Mark’s legs came into view next to the couch. Gabe had to crane his neck to see the rest of him.

“Here.” Mark held out a glass of water and two green pills.

Gabe didn’t bother to sit up. He could swallow lying down. It was one of his hidden talents. He popped the pills and tilted the glass back. He spilled some on his shirt but couldn’t bring himself to care.

“How did you know I needed more medicine?”

Mark perched on the coffee table, resting his elbows on his knees and searching Gabe’s face. “Because I love you, and I pay attention. I’ve been here more than four hours and you haven’t had any. I figured it was time. Are you sure you don’t need to go to a doctor?”

Mark had been the first to say I love you, but Gabe had said it right back. Since then, Mark dropped casual I love yous every day. Gabe was more reserved, but Mark didn’t seem to mind. Gabe thought Mark knew even though he didn’t say it all the time, he still felt it.

He took another swig of water, managing not to spill that time. “Nah, it’s only a cold. Give it a couple of days, and I’ll be fine.”

A deep V creased the skin between Mark’s dark eyebrows, and the small lines around his eyes deepened. Gabe wanted to kiss him. Badly. He started to pull himself up, unsure if he’d actually kiss Mark or not, but at least wanting to be on eye level with him.

Mark cupped Gabe’s elbow and helped him sit. He didn’t look relieved by Gabe’s change of position. “I’ll take you to the doctor if you need to go. Whenever you need to go.”

Gabe smiled, but that didn’t seem to convince Mark either. “I’ll be fine. Promise. I already feel better than I did yesterday.”

He rose slowly as Mark pulled on the blankets wrapped around Gabe, keeping them away from Gabe’s feet so he wouldn’t trip. Mark was good at small things like that. Mark was good at everything.

He waited, shoulder propped against the bathroom doorway, while Gabe brushed his teeth. Gabe didn’t have the energy to shower or change from one set of sweats to another to sleep in. He wanted to collapse, face first, on the bed. Instead, Gabe let Mark pull back the covers and usher him in. Like he was a child.

It didn’t feel patronizing or condescending. It was comforting.

“You know, I could do this every night if you’d move in with me,” Mark teased.

Bringing up an ongoing argument with one party sick was unfair.

“You’re taking advantage of my weakened state.” Gabe rolled on his side and hugged a pillow to his chest. “Besides, you could do this every night if you moved in here too.”

Mark sat on the bed, tucked up against the bend in Gabe’s knees. “My place is closer to work.”

Gabe snorted. “You don’t seem to mind the drive anymore.”

“Yeah, but I’d rather have you at home, in a nice big bed on clean sheets, than in a bathroom.” He rubbed his broad palm from Gabe’s knee to his hip. The heat of it soaked through straight to Gabe’s skin.

“You didn’t complain before.” Gabe’s head pounded. He wanted to go to sleep, and to get out of this conversation.

Mark’s hand smoothed back down to his knee. “No complaints from me, just promise me you’re considering it.”

Of course Gabe was considering it. Mark first mentioned it weeks ago, around Thanksgiving, and Gabe had shut him down quickly. But the thought kept popping back into Gabe’s mind. He thought of it when his shower ran out of hot water and when his windows rattled in the winter wind. And when he’d started feeling sick without Mark there to take care of him.

He couldn’t spend all his time with Mark. He couldn’t move in with him.

And he definitely couldn’t afford the rent in Mark’s neighborhood. But that didn’t stop him from thinking about it.

Mark pressed a kiss to the crown of Gabe’s head. “I’ll come back tomorrow after work. Sleep and text me if there’s anything you need. Christmas is only eight days away.”

The bottom dropped out of Gabe’s stomach. Christmas. Meeting Mark’s family for the first time.

Maybe he’d stay sick all the way to next year. He could get out of it that way.

Mark kissed him again, stroking his lips across the curve of Gabe’s ear. “Sleep, love.”

He wasn’t getting out of this.

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Meet the Author

Gretchen Evans is a bisexual, cis woman living with her partner in North Carolina. Her day job involves figuring out the best way to ask people questions they don’t want to answer. In the evenings, she does hot yoga and watches any TV show that can be read as queer-coded. She only drinks beer disguised as root beer and her perfect Sunday involves half listening to an NFL game as she reads a book. She plans to continue writing queer romance with engaging characters, sexy times, and feelings. You can find Gretchen on Twitter.

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Nov 11

New Release Blitz: The Sun Still Rises by Laura Bailo (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  The Sun Still Rises

Author: Laura Bailo

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: November 11, 2019

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 32000

Genre: Contemporary, LGBT, Spain, bull running, writer, foreign traditions, anxiety attacks, grieving, long distance

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Synopsis

Whenever his father asked Erik to accompany him to Pamplona for the San Fermín festival, he said no. Now his father is gone, and in a spur of the moment decision, Erik finds himself in another country to run with the bulls in his memory. Erik hasn’t booked a hotel, and he’s completely unprepared for a city bustling with people. No accommodations to be had, he’s resigned to sleeping in a park. Until help comes from an unlikely place.

David works in the tourism office, and Erik is surprised but grateful when he offers him his spare room, despite being a complete stranger. Faced with the choice of sleeping on the ground or the friendly offer of an extra bed, the decision is an easy one. The two of them get to know each other as David shows Erik what’s to love about Pamplona. For the first time in a long while, Erik feels something for another person, but that doesn’t change the fact that this is only temporary and he needs to go back home, does it?

Excerpt

The Sun Still Rises
Laura Bailo © 2019
All Rights Reserved

Prologue
“Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

Erik had lost count of how many times his dad had asked. “Dad, I’m sure. You go and enjoy yourself.”

“You could enjoy it, too, if you just forgot about everything else for a while.”

He had always been worried about him. Erik was pretty sure his dad thought he didn’t know how to have fun. Not having a lot of friends didn’t mean he didn’t get to enjoy himself. His idea of fun was simply different from his father’s.

“Come on, Dad, you know I would only drag you down. I don’t like crowded places, and you can’t even walk in Pamplona during the festival.”

“How could you know that?” His father sounded surprised Erik actually knew something about his destination.

“You’ve been going there every year for the last—what? Twenty years? And you think I’ve never watched the running of the bulls, trying to see you? I’m not that heartless, Dad.”

“I didn’t say you were. You’ve never seemed interested in any of it, so I didn’t imagine you’d have done that. But I’m glad to know you love your old man enough to care and watch just in case he gets trampled by a bull.”

That would have offended Erik had his dad not been smiling while he said it.

“Yes, yes, I do love you, which is why I want you to go alone and have fun without me tagging along. You deserve that.” And he was serious, as this was the only time of year his dad let himself forget the problems that troubled him at work during the rest of it.

“Thank you, son. There’s no convincing you, I guess. I’m going to go pack. Remember you promised to drive me to the airport.”

Erik couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Yes, like I do every year. Don’t worry; I’ll be ready. You know I will.”

“I know, I know.” And with two pats to Erik’s shoulder, his dad left to pack his white and red clothes.

Erik decided he should head to bed. The flight left at a ridiculously early hour, which meant he should go to sleep early if he wanted to be awake enough to drive. After his dad left, he’d have a week all to himself, and he was planning on taking advantage of it, writing nonstop. Not what his dad would consider fun, but putting words on paper was what made Erik happy, and he had a deadline coming up for his next book.

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Meet the Author

Laura Bailo is an asexual Spanish author of queer romance. She’s an anxiety-ridden writer who, when not writing or reading, loves exploring the narrow streets of Pamplona and thinking about all the stories she wants to write in the future. She has a penchant for writing sweet stories with a Spanish flavor, be it fantasy or contemporary, and she’s still dreaming about writing her first historical.

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Nov 11

New Release Blitz: Pulse of My Heart by Jessi Noelle (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Pulse of My Heart

Series: The Inferno, Book Two

Author: Jessi Noelle

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: November 11, 2019

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 18900

Genre: Contemporary, LGBT, PTSD, firefighters, photojournalist, Irishman, gay, coming out, tear-jerker, hurt-comfort

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Synopsis

Vincent Franklin’s last mistake had a body count. Now, he’s back on the fireline with something to prove to his fellow firefighters and most of all to himself. But when a sexy Irishman with talent and a camera captures him in a weak moment, he puts Vince’s heart at risk.

Still, there’s something about Aidan that attracts Vince and stirs up feelings he would have preferred to leave locked up and untouched in a dark corner of his heart. Then, after he, and the world, believe Aidan is killed in a tragic accident, Vince struggles to find the courage to love again. His chief worry: Does a screw-up like him even deserve to love again?

Excerpt

Pulse of My Heart
Jessi Noelle © 2019
All Rights Reserved

Christmas Eve, 2019
Vince was breathing hard. Sweat beaded on his forehead and rolled downward, catching in his eyebrow as he groaned in pleasure and release.

“Holy shit, Mac,” he said as the twitching slowed, and he melted into the body under him. He nuzzled the ear of his partner and tenderly kissed the spot just below, where the neck melded into that beautiful head.

“Mmm,” his partner purred, hips moving languidly around his trapped member and drawing another gasp of pleasure before releasing him. “Merry Christmas, my darling.”

“Are you my night-before-Christmas present?” he asked. “Because I’m afraid that if I stir any creatures—even a mouse—I’ll find this sugarplum is a vision dancing in my head.” After the loss a year ago, and everything he’d been through since, this felt surreal.

Mac gave him a coy look—the one that tugged sexy-feel threads in his chest—then flipped over beneath him and wrapped arms around his neck, lacing fingers through Vince’s short, butterscotch hair. “Sugarplum, huh? Ah, you do know how to flatter the guy below you who is still slightly incoherent from recent…activities.” He pulled Vince down for a kiss, tongue snaking out to lick the sweat off his lips and making Vince groan a little at the image. He cocked his head, raised his eyebrows, and Vince could feel himself stirring again, hardening against the leg resting on him.

Vince looked down at him with wonder. “What did I do to deserve you? You’re so beautiful, and smart, and everything I’m not.”

“Don’t get it twisted, darling,” he drawled as he framed Vince’s face between his hands, “I’m the lucky guy who snagged the hot firefighter who defines straight-up sexy, pardon the hetero pun.” Mac softly placed his lips on Vince’s, starting at his forehead and working his way slowly, so agonizingly slowly, down.

In a flash of searing heat, Vince’s tenderness was replaced with hunger and need. Mac grinned wickedly at Vince’s growl of lust and flipped him over. He hovered above Vince, teasing, letting his breath fall on the sensitive places he’d found and wringing moans of frustration from the beautiful boy beneath him. When his tongue trailed over the bumps of Vince’s abs, the ticklish spot Mac found there caused him to squirm away. And when Mac’s lips engulfed his manhood, Vince lost the ability to form coherent thought.

Everything dissolved into a blur of touch and taste and pressure and pleasure and friction and feeling.

Merry Christmas, indeed.

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Meet the Author

Jessi Noelle was born in South Mississippi, where she worked as a zookeeper and later as a firefighter. She is transgender with two sons, and currently lives in Nashville, TN.

Through the Inferno is her first novel. She is an alum of the inaugural #DVPit, a twitter event where marginalized authors pitch their books to agents. She is currently working on another book set in the The Inferno universe.

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