Aug 20

Release Blitz: Life at the Death House by Sean E. D. Kerr (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Life at the Death House

Author: Sean E. D. Kerr

Publisher: NineStar Press, LLC

Release Date: August 20, 2018

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 113700

Genre: Contemporary, contemporary, HIV, AIDS, grief, addiction, illness/disease, children, tear-jerker, drug/alcohol use, gay

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

The locals call it the Death House, but Carol and Marco designed the New Life House as a home for kids to live, safely removed from the stigmas and judgments of the outside world.

Seventeen-year-old Tyler arrives on the doorstep, hoping that he’s finally found a safe place to die. His arrival causes the other kids to question the futures they’ve been promised, and Carol and Marco must convince them there is life after diagnosis.

Even through struggles with addictions and questions of sexuality, the residents could come to believe in the possibility of living.

Excerpt

Life at the Death House
Sean E.D. Kerr © 2018
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
October 1997

The air bit at his cheeks as he walked toward the house where he hoped he would die. After all this time, he’d made it. Tyler took a deep, satisfied breath as he slowly worked his way up the gravel driveway.

He found out about the New Life House on his birthday back in September, and had been trying to get there ever since. When he first saw the pamphlet, he nearly laughed. Strange name for a death house, he’d thought. The name just didn’t make sense to him. There was no new life for people like him. There was only death and loneliness. And pain. That’s all there was.

Despite his commitment to dying, his heart still raced at the thought. A death house. He’d already lost everything that ever mattered and then some. The only thing he had left to lose was his life, and he wasn’t convinced that would be much of a loss. There was no one left to mourn him anyway. I just don’t want to die on the streets. I don’t want to die like… He couldn’t even finish the thought.

Tyler held his breath to steel himself to the pit of guilt growing deep inside him. Why had he been the one who found the New Life House? Why couldn’t they have found it together? He’d never expected how quickly things could change in a couple of years or even a few months. How many things and how many people he could lose in such a short time. He never knew just how real life could be until the day it happened. The day he didn’t like to think about. The day he’d found he really was alone.

He stopped as he reached the edge of the paved section of the driveway, not far from the house but just far enough away so he could take it all in. It was huge. He cleared his throat and blinked as if to make sure it was really there.

The New Life House stood in the center of a two-hundred-acre piece of well-kept land. It was a large Victorian-style home with faded blue paneling, yellowing white trim, and a wraparound veranda with white paint, peeling and flaking away, revealing the graying wood beneath it. The last of the grass was fighting to be seen through spots of early snow and fallen leaves as winter edged its way in. The driveway was nearly half a kilometer of dirt and gravel, leading to the large circular patch of pavement around the front of the house, the same pavement he now hesitated to step onto.

Tyler looked over his shoulder to see how far he’d walked, but his view was blocked by a line of silver maple trees, sparsely decorated with what remained of their brightly colored leaves, that cut across the front of the property about halfway down the driveway. From where he stood, they resembled a really tall fence.

His attention drifted back toward the house. The sweet smell of rotting leaves mixed with the scent of a roast dinner filled the air, warming Tyler as he imagined what it would taste like. His mouth watered, and his stomach grumbled. He hadn’t had a proper meal in days.

What am I doing? They’re not gonna take me. This is stupid. He looked down at his worn runners, torn and caked with dirt, and wondered if his journey had all been for nothing. What if they could see right through his lies and could see what he truly was? What if they refused to let him stay? He couldn’t take another rejection. He wouldn’t let anyone have that power over him again.

Don’t be ridiculous. You’re going in. He did his best to give himself a pep talk. He was never very good at those either. The only thing he knew how to do was disappoint, but he would do anything to be allowed to stay…almost.

They agreed on the phone to let you come. Stop freaking out. They can’t change their minds that fast. He took a deep breath, stepped onto the pavement, and began his walk to the front door.

He rang the bell and waited for what felt like hours for someone to answer. “Hi,” Tyler said shyly, avoiding eye contact with the tall and athletic, bordering on beefy, man who greeted him.

“Hi there, you must be Tyler. I was expecting you about an hour ago,” the man said, smiling and offering his hand to shake.

Tyler stared at it but shied away.

The man pulled his hand back but kept smiling, seemingly unbothered by Tyler’s reaction. “Come on in. I’m Marco.” His voice was loud, energetic, and slightly more high-pitched than Tyler expected.

“Thank you,” Tyler said quietly. He looked around the foyer, in awe of its grandness. The room was large and dark with wood floors and features. On a small table next to the office, a single lamp gave off a dim glow, lighting the first few feet of the darkened hallway that led toward the common areas of the house. Across from the entrance was a wide wooden staircase, lined with red carpet that led up to the second and third floors. The sounds of children giggling and chattering in the TV room drifted softly down the hall.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” Marco said. “Just put your shoes on the rack.” He nodded toward a shoe rack already holding several other pairs of runners and boots.

Tyler did as he was told even though he was embarrassed that his socks were dirty, and both of his big toes stuck out of matching holes.

“Sorry I’m late.” He chanced a quick glance at Marco. He doesn’t look like a doctor.

Marco was wearing blue jeans and a Nirvana T-shirt. He looked like an old guy who hadn’t accepted his age yet.

“Can I take that for you?”

Tyler flinched and jerked away defensively as Marco reached for his bag.

Startled by his reaction, Marco retracted his hand, immediately stepped back, and shrunk his stature. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t scare me,” Tyler said, straightening up. “I’m not a pussy.”

Marco laughed. “I probably should have known that.”

“How could you have known? You don’t know me.”

“Most young guys who have tattoos on their necks and piercings in their eyebrows tend to have a bit of a wild side,” Marco said. “There’s an element of tough guy that comes with that look.”

“Hm.” Tyler instinctively brought his hand up to touch the black tattoo in Chinese characters on the left side of his neck and forced the burgeoning tears to dry as he thought back to the day he’d gotten it. He smirked, pleased that he came off as tough. His blue jeans were baggy and tattered; he had a black hoody on, undone over his black T-shirt that read: Do I Look Like a F*!#ing People Person?! He had put great effort into crafting an appearance that would keep people at bay. He controlled what he could. Despite his great efforts to appear tough, he was cursed with blond hair and a baby face that, in his opinion, only served to make him seem vulnerable. That’s why people always took advantage of him, but he wouldn’t let anyone do that again.

“How old are you?”

Tyler stood a little taller. “Seventeen.”

“I was pretty sure that’s what you’d said on the phone, but you look a lot younger.”

Tyler frowned and slouched again. “I know.” He rolled his eyes. He’d heard these lines before. This conversation was going nowhere.

Marco ran his hand over his bald head almost instinctively, as though it would help him come up with something else to say.

Tyler despised small talk. It was only adding to his anxiety over whether they would let him stay or not. He took a deep breath and admitted what he hadn’t on the phone a month before.

“I don’t have any money.” He said it quickly to get it over with. If it meant he had to leave, he wanted to know now.

“It’s okay. We’ll figure something out,” Marco said, reaching his hand out for Tyler’s bag again.

“I told you I don’t have any money.” Tyler pulled away and, for the first time, made full eye contact with Marco.

“And I told you we’ll figure something out.” Marco kept his hand outstretched.

Tyler cringed. He knew where this was going. It was just like all the others who said they wanted to help. It was never that simple. How could he have been so stupid?

“I’m not going to sleep with you so I can stay here,” Tyler snapped.

Marco stepped back again. “That’s not what I meant.”

Tyler gave him a confused, distrusting look.

“Oh.” He startled and clutched his bag tighter as a middle-aged woman with short, gray-blonde hair came in from the hallway. Now, she looks more like a doctor. She was wearing a beige sweater and tight, dark-green jeans. She had glasses on top of her head rather than over her eyes, something that had always amused Tyler. What good do they do up there?

“I thought I heard the doorbell ring,” she said, smiling as she walked toward Tyler and extended her hand. “Welcome.”

“Hi,” he said, shrinking away from her.

The woman looked at Marco knowingly, smiled, and said, “You know the polite thing to do when someone tries to shake your hand is to reach out and shake.”

She kept her hand extended, waiting for him to respond. “My name is Carol. What’s yours?”

Purchase

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

Meet the Author

Sean holds a diploma in Professional Writing from Algonquin College (Ottawa, Canada, 2009). He found his love of writing at the age of ten when he released his first miniseries via Duo-Tang folder to his family and friends. He has another four novels outlined and is working on draft one of a fifth.

In December 2016, he launched the Pontiac & Ottawa Valley Writers’ Circle under the umbrella of the Pontiac Artists Association (PAA). He continues to coordinate the efforts of the POVWC and is enjoying the blossoming of a strong creative writing community.

Sean writes a wide range of genres with a particular focus and interest in literary and upmarket fiction. He specifically enjoys writing stories that deal with how people react to hardships, exploring how they come through them for better or for worse. It’s the experiences and choices that change people that intrigue him the most. Common themes include addiction, mental health, sexuality, grief and hope.

Sean lives on a farm in Bristol, Quebec, with his husband, Glen; their dogs, Suzie, Maxwell and Walker; their goats, Tyrion and Arya; and their llamas, Shadow and Angie.

Website | Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Addiction, AIDS, children, Contemporary, drug/alcohol use, Gay, grief, HIV, illness/disease, tear-jerker
Leave comment

Aug 20

Release Blitz: Trouble’s on the Way by CL Mustafic (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Trouble’s on the Way

Series: Outcasts, Book Two

Author: CL Mustafic

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: August 20, 2018

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 52500

Genre: Paranormal, shifter, bonded mate, menage, lycanthrope, werewolf, bigender, gender fluid

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

After leaving the Outcast pack, Clay Anderson and Damian Macoon head to Alabama where they’ve both secured a job with the construction company that employs Damian. Their new relationship is off to a good but not too harmonious start in no small part due to Clay still holding a grudge against Damian for turning him into a werewolf. So when they walk into the office trailer parked on the job site and Clay realizes that their boss is none other than Damian’s fated mate, things get even more tense between the two.

Billy Ray Hicks was raised believing he was going to find his mate and be a cherished member of whatever pack he ended up in, but those dreams came crashing down when his bonded mate ran away and disappeared from his life before the mate bond was completed. Billy Ray always figured he’d run into Damian again but never suspected his mate would have a boyfriend when he did.

With tensions mounting between Clay and Damian, Billy Ray becomes the focal point of their ire. Damian ends up in the middle of two men—one he wants and one he needs—who both want him. Now he needs to convince them that they all belong together before he loses both.

Excerpt

Trouble’s on the Way
CL Mustafic © 2018
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
Clay

Almost nine hours of sitting in the pickup with Damian gave me plenty of time to think. Part of me thought going with him to Alabama was an okay idea. Sure the money would probably be decent, and since I was no longer gainfully employed, what did I have to lose? Another part of me thought I was crazy for not only shacking up with the guy who’d turned me into a werewolf, but now I was letting him drag me halfway across the country. Maybe contracting lycanthropy had messed up my ability to make a good decision.

I glanced over at Damian, who was concentrating on the road signs because he was looking for the exit just outside Iowa City that would lead us to one of the campgrounds. I couldn’t lie to myself enough to pretend I wasn’t attracted to him. Hell, who didn’t have a fantasy about the tattooed bad boy? Reminding myself Damian wasn’t the stereotypical bad boy, I tore my eyes off him before he could feel me staring. I spotted the exit we were looking for, but before I could point it out, Damian switched lanes and pulled off the interstate.

“You sure you don’t want to drive? We could make it to Tuscaloosa by morning and sleep the day away,” Damian asked for the millionth time.

“I told you I don’t want to drive this rig and I’m tired anyways.” I’d dozed some but not enough to stay awake and drive all night. Plus, I wasn’t confident about my ability to drive the pickup with a thirty-five-foot trailer attached to it.

“You’d only have to drive for about four hours, and then I’d be fresh enough to take over, but if you’re too scared to drive, I’m fine with that.” A grin tugged at the corner of his lip at his dig, but all I had to do was let a growl rumble up out of my chest to kill his urge to smile.

Pulling up to the campground’s reception building, Damian got out of the truck and stretched before turning back to me. “I’ll go pay for the night. You want to run into the store and maybe get us some snacks and beer?”

“Sure. You want anything special?” I opened my own door but waited for his response instead of getting out.

“Maybe some ice cream, chocolate, oh, and some nachos and gummy worms.”

“Are you pregnant?” I snorted and shook my head at his request as I dropped down to the ground from the pickup.

“You know those are just stories, right?” Damian called over the hood of the pickup at me.

“Hey, I have no idea what to believe anymore. I used to think werewolves were just stories.” I made air quotes around “just stories” to get my point across, making him roll his eyes at me.

“Go get me my junk food.” Turning, Damian went to pay for our stay while I went into the little convenience store.

The woman behind the counter watched my every move as I loaded down the little red basket with Damian’s requested junk food and then grabbed a case of beer to go with it. She rang up the sale but before she was done, Damian came in the door. Her eyes widened and I could smell the change in the atmosphere around her. Apparently, she also liked bad boys, and her interest in what my beast thought of as his brought out its jealousy.

“Hey, are you buying the whole store or what?” Damian’s sexy grin was at full wattage as he sauntered up to the counter. Turning it on the woman, he nodded a greeting, making her blush like a school girl.

“Not my fault your cravings are so weird.” I managed to swallow the possessive warning my beast wanted to growl out at the woman. Instead, I put my arm around Damian’s waist and pulled him to my side, making his smile falter. Taking it a step further when the woman’s scent didn’t change once she saw Damian wasn’t on the market, I pointed to the row of condoms behind her. “Give me three boxes of the magnums too. I have a feeling we’re going to need them tonight.” I winked as Damian stiffened at my side.

“Clay–”

“Make it four.” I reached down and squeezed Damian’s ass. His arousal wafted up to join that of the woman’s, who’d turned to get the requested condoms. She didn’t make eye contact with either of us as she finished tallying the items and took my card. “Have a good night.” I practically sang the words as we walked out the door.

Damian pushed away from me when we hit the parking lot. “What the fuck was that all about?” His glare would have been much more menacing if I hadn’t found his mismatched eyes to be so damn alluring; plus his anger only made my beast want to make him submit to it.

“What was what all about?” I shrugged and held out the bags I was carrying in one hand. “Just getting stuff for the night.”

“And what do you expect to do with twelve condoms?” His eyes narrowed as he tried to cross his arms over his chest, forgetting he was holding the case of beer, so he had to drop them back down to his sides.

He had me there. We didn’t use condoms, since neither of us could catch anything, so did he think I’d intended to go out and find someone else for the night? Shit. That was not my intention, but just to see how pissed off I could make him, I decided to throw the possibility out there. “Well, maybe there will be a hot guy in the spot next to us. We should be prepared, right?”

“You’re an asshole.” Damian stomped off to the truck and before I could get in, he pulled away, leaving me to walk behind.

He was right. I was an asshole, but he knew that, so it was his fault for sticking around. Our spot was a bit down the road from the lodge and when I got there, Damian had already hooked up the power and was standing by the door pressing the button that pushed out the pop outs on the camper. I’d only glanced inside before we’d left so when I stepped past him, I had to stop and stare.

“Holy shit, this thing is huge.” I looked over my shoulder at Damian, who was squatting to pet Stumple and Grumpkin, his cats.

“I wanted there to be enough room for both of us so we wouldn’t have to be tripping over each other.” Damian stood and walked across the kitchen to the living room at the end of the trailer where I was inspecting the entertainment system. “There’s only one bedroom but if you want to bring someone back here, I can always sleep on one of the convertibles.”

I turned to look at him because I could tell he was hurt, and though I’d wanted to keep the space between us, I didn’t much like him feeling he didn’t matter to me. He did mean something to me; I just wasn’t sure what. I crowded him up against the wall, pressing my body to his, making his breath catch. “You’ll sleep where I tell you to sleep. And if I want you in the bed with me while I’m fucking someone else, you’ll lay there and watch,” I growled. Where the fuck did that come from?

Damian whimpered. He knew when my beast was talking and his beast deferred to mine, always. It still boggled my mind how his huge wolf was afraid of my tiny puppy one. “I hate you sometimes, you know that?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“I know, and the feeling’s mutual.” I stepped back and let him go about taking care of the cats and then hooking up the water. I would have helped, but I had no idea how to do any of the things that made the camper run. I went to the bedroom on the other end of the trailer and grabbed a fresh pair of underwear before going into the bathroom and taking a shower.

When I came out of the steamy little room, Damian had changed into a pair of low-hanging sleep pants. He was curled into one of the arm chairs in the corner, watching a movie with Stumple purring on his lap and his array of snacks on a folding tray next to him. I grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat on the couch. Grumpkin jumped up and sat next to me, and after sending a look at his owner, he lay his head on my lap and started purring.

“Fuck you too,” Damian mumbled to the cat before shoving a handful of gummy bears in his mouth.

“How can you eat all that shit?” I shook my head in disgust as he chased the gummies with a spoonful of ice cream.

“Fast metabolism. If I don’t eat like this, I’ll start looking like you.” He let his eyes run over my upper body, which I’d noticed lately was getting a little scrawnier than it normally was. “I told you, the beast needs food; either you feed it or it eats away at you.” He shrugged and filled his mouth with chips so his next words were interspersed with crunching noises. “Take advantage of it while you can, eat the good shit before the beast gets old and tired and then you get a pot belly.”

Purchase

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

Meet the Author

CL Mustafic is a born and bred American mid-westerner who mysteriously ended up living in one of those countries nobody can ever find on the map of Europe. Left with too much time on her hands—let’s be honest here: it was the lack of television channels in her native language–and too many voices in her head trying to fill the silence, she decided to give her life-long dream of writing a novel a shot. So now, between shuttling kids back and forth from various activities and risking her life on the insanely narrow, busy streets of her new hometown, she loses herself in her own made-up world where love always wins.

Website | Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

bigender, bonded mate, gender fluid, lycanthrope, menage, Shifter, werewolf
Leave comment

Aug 20

Release Blitz: Tale of a Dragon Princess by Lizzie Colt (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Tale of a Dragon Princess

Author: Lizzie Colt

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: August 20, 2018

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 21600

Genre: Fantasy, dragon, witch, princess, warrior, curse, lesbian, PTSD, disability, prosthetic

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

The day Princess Mellie turns sixteen, her parents reveal she was cursed as a baby and will spend the rest of her nights as a dragon. Two years later, she discovers a chance to break the curse, but it will take a quest with only her chosen bodyguard, a brave female warrior who has lost her lust for fighting but has developed an attraction for the princess.

Excerpt

Tale of a Dragon Princess
Lizzie Colt © 2018
All Rights Reserved

Waking up on the day of her daughter’s sixteenth birthday should have been a joyous event, but Queen Jasmine awoke to a feeling of dread in the pit in her stomach. Almost sixteen years had passed since the ice witch, as they had dubbed her, had visited their castle that mid-winter’s night and laid a curse on their sweet Mellie.

Now it was spring, and they had learned little about the witch and her magic, and they hadn’t been able to break the curse. Jasmine had been praying that when this night fell nothing would happen, that the curse would simply be a terrible lie or a nasty trick. She had even prayed nightfall wouldn’t come.

“Come, my love. It’s time to get dressed and greet our princess.” Magnus’s voice called from the other side of the room.

“Are we doing the right thing, acting like it’s a normal day and telling her just before dark?” Jasmine asked, slipping out of bed.

“We’ve talked about this. We agreed to give her a normal life for as long as we could. For sixteen years, she’s been like other princesses she’s met, lived a similar if sheltered life. We’ve protected her but let her grow. Let’s watch her have one more perfect birthday,” Magnus said, and Jasmine nodded in agreement. She wanted to see her daughter smiling, to watch her opening gifts and being spoiled.

“Go wake her. I’ll get dressed.” Jasmine smiled faintly, hoping her worry didn’t bleed through and show itself to Mellie. Her sweet young lady was very perceptive of other’s emotions, she always spoke softly when people needed to be calmed, but knew how to raise her voice when it was needed. She’d make a good queen one day because she read people well. She was also fair and kind.

“Would you like my help with that?” Magnus glanced in her direction raising an eyebrow.

“Your Majesty, you flatter me, but we do not have time for such distractions. Go to Mellie. I’m sure she’s nervous about the presentation.” Jasmine loved that her husband still desired her after all these years. They had finally come to terms with the fact that Mellie would be their only child, the damage from her birth too much to allow her to have a sibling. But Magnus had only to look at her, and Jasmine felt like a young princess again, and a beautiful one at that.

“She is her mother’s daughter, so shy in the face of grand ceremonies. Who would know what a handful you both are?” Magnus laughed and headed for the door.

“Are you complaining?” Jasmine asked, pulling the cord to ring the bell for her dresser. Some days, she dressed herself, taking time to comb her long dark hair and line her blue eyes with kohl, but today, she’d be presenting herself in a fine corseted gown to face those coming to visit the castle. The birthday celebration and acknowledgement of Mellie as the future queen of Silver Kingdom had drawn lords and ladies, dukes and duchesses from near and far. It would be a long, busy day.

“Never. I wouldn’t trade my girls for anything, not the silver in the hills, not the diamond mines in the west or the gold in the east,” Magnus said, his brown eyes gleaming with pride. Jasmine laughed in delight, waving him away. He could make her laugh even on days like this, when darkness lurked closer with each passing hour. Jasmine only hoped Mellie found someone who would do the same for her.

Purchase

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

Meet the Author

Lizzie Colt is a writer in her late twenties who has always loved writing and has been doing it her whole life. Lizzie is bi and disabled and she wanted to see more of characters like her in YA books. She loves fantasy but will turn her hand to any genre and hopes to share many stories. Lizzie loves animals and hates being cold.

Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

curse, disability, dragon, Lesbian, princess, prosthetic, PTSD, warrior, witch
Leave comment

Aug 20

Release Blitz: Adventures in Dating…in Heels by Liam Livings (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Adventures in Dating…in Heels

Series: Kev, Book One

Author: Liam Livings

Publisher: NineStar Press, LLC

Release Date: August 20, 2018

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 66200

Genre: Contemporary, cross-dressing, family drama, gay, coming out, coming of age, drag queens

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

Kev Harrison is a teenager looking for a boyfriend and friends who will accept his cross-dressing. Only thing is, he lives in a small village near Salisbury, England, and it’s the nineties.

Tony Collins is Kev’s best friend, a Goth with a passion for fashion and anything to do with the Human League. He stands as the voice of reason while Kev muddles his way through coming out, career choices, and dating…in heels.

Excerpt

Adventures in Dating…in Heels
Liam Livings © 2018
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
1987

I first realised I wasn’t quite like other boys when I was seven. By then, I was old enough to know what I liked and what I didn’t like and, more importantly, confident and talkative enough to do something about it.

One afternoon, when Dad was at work and Mum was making cakes in the kitchen, I found a pile of Mum’s large dresses in the living room, waiting to be ironed. I knew they were hers as I’d seen her bustling about the house in them, just before Dad came home from work. At four o’clock every day, after I’d been home from school a while, Mum would disappear upstairs dressed as Mrs. Mop and reappear at quarter to five in one of her long flowing dresses, full makeup, and heels, her hair brushed out from spending a day under a head scarf.

Mum was really into the Mamas and the Papas, and during the summer holidays while Dad was at work, and once the house was straight and she’d “done through” as she called it, we’d dance to her twelve-inch records in the living room. She would come in from hanging out the washing in the back garden and say, “A good day for drying. If they’re done in time and I’m all done through, we can have a little dance with my records.”

One afternoon while Mum was upstairs making herself look nice for Dad, I grabbed one of her dresses and climbed into it, ready for our dance.

Mum walked into the living room as I held the Mamas and the Papas album, wearing her size-twenty dress covered in bright-pink daisies, a wide grin filling my face.

She took the record off me. “What you doing in my dress, love?”

“I like the flowers and I want to see what it feels like when I dance around in it, like you do.” Perfectly reasonable as far as I was concerned.

“They’re for me, not for you, love.” She put the record on and turned to me, her hands on her hips. “Take it off and we can have a dance together.”

But I didn’t want to take it off. I wanted to keep it on with my whole being. As I swayed from side to side, brushing the dress between my hands as I swung my arms around, I felt so right I couldn’t understand why I had to take it off.

“I’ll be careful. I won’t make it dirty.” Dirty was the worst thing in that house as far as Mum was concerned, and I knew I wouldn’t do that to the dress.

As the music filled the room, Mum knelt in front of me. “One dance. But it’s our little secret. Don’t tell Daddy, all right?” She made a zipping motion with her hand across her lips.

I nodded emphatically and started to dance with her to the music. It was the one that made me dance the most on the whole album, it was “One Way Ticket.” It all felt perfect: the swishing sound of the dress as it moved around me, the feeling of the gap between my bare legs, and how different it was from wearing trousers.

As I danced, I caught a glimpse of myself, stood in my mum’s frock, smiling as I jumped about.

The song finished, and Mum lifted the needle on the record player and told me to take off the dress.

There was a bit of a disagreement as I begged for one more song, held up my He-Man figure and said, “I want to dance for him.”

“You like He-Man, do you, love?”

I nodded and Mum kept looking at her watch. In the end, she unzipped the dress behind my back and lifted me out of it. As the dress lay on the ground, pooled around my feet, the back door clicked, signalling Dad’s return from work. Mum scooped up the dress and folded it quickly into the ironing pile in the living room, then greeted Dad, in his grey suit carrying a black briefcase, with a hug and a kiss.

“What’s for dinner?” Dad asked over Mum’s shoulder, staring at me.

I was still moving a bit to the song continuing to play in my head.

“What’s he dancing about for? Why’s he not got any clothes on? Hasn’t he got something useful to do, like lay the table?”

Mum pulled back from the hug and told me to throw on some clothes, and then asked me to lay the table as dinner would be five minutes. Raising her eyebrows towards me, she said, “Fish fingers, peas, and chips. Your favourite.”

I ran upstairs to dress, nipping in ahead of Dad. Once we had both changed, we made our way downstairs again. Mum beamed at my dad, who was now wearing a shapeless grey tracksuit he’d bought from a catalogue when Mum had complained his old tracksuit had too many holes to be darned anymore.

We continued with our little secret most evenings. Sometimes, I would watch Mum putting on her makeup from their bed and I’d ask what each item was for as she applied them.

“Can I have a go?” I asked once got the courage.

She turned, half her lips bright red, the lipstick in her hand. “Not on you. You can do it on me if you want.” She handed it to me. As I applied it to her lips, I had to force my whole body not to put a bit on my own.

“How does it come off?” I asked innocently.

She showed me the makeup remover in the jar on her dressing table and the cotton wool in the drawer.

Now I knew everything I needed to know.

When Mum was hanging out the washing or deeply involved in dinner preparation, I would take some of Mum’s makeup into the bathroom and make up my whole face and then stare at myself in the mirror, amazed at how I no longer looked like me. Afterwards, I’d dutifully remove it all with the bottle and cotton wool just as Mum had done.

That Christmas, Mum opened her present from Dad: a pair of shiny black high-heeled shoes. The toes went to a sharp point and the heel was longer than my index finger. She tried them on, parading around the room and twirling her feet at every turn.

I looked at the Meccano tractor set I’d just opened and my heart sank. Why didn’t I have a little sister so I could play Barbie dolls with her as I was growing up? I’d seen these dolls in their bright-pink boxes and blonde hair next to the muddy-grey Action Man in the toy shop. When I’d asked for one of those, Dad had said not to be so silly. I wanted an Action Man, didn’t I?

Now, Dad said, “Shall we build the tractor?”

Desperate for something to have in common with Dad, I nodded, opened the box, and cleared a space on the living room carpet. Soon the tractor was built, with its red shiny three-inch wheels, bent tube of a body, and frame around the seat where my old Action Man could sit—if I could have found him. I’d just handed Dad bits and pieces, watching him build it. It was the most we’d talked to each other in years.

After everyone went to bed that night, I sneaked into the living room, pushed my tractor aside, put on Mum’s shiny black high heels, and walked around the kitchen, enjoying every quiet tap they made on the floor. After I’d had my fill, I put them back where they’d been left and went to bed.

Purchase

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

Meet the Author

Liam Livings lives where east London ends and becomes Essex. He shares his house with his boyfriend and cat. He enjoys baking, cooking, classic cars and socialising with friends. He has a sweet tooth for food and entertainment: loving to escape from real life with a romantic book; enjoying a good cry at a sad, funny and camp film; and listening to musical cheesy pop from the eighties to now. He tirelessly watches an awful lot of Gilmore Girls in the name of writing ‘research’.

Published since 2013 by a variety of British and American presses, his gay romance and gay fiction focuses on friendships, British humour, romance with plenty of sparkle. He’s a member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association, and the Chartered Institute of Marketing. With a masters in creative writing from Kingston University, he teaches writing workshops with his partner in sarcasm and humour, Virginia Heath as www.realpeoplewritebooks.com and has also ghost written a client’s 5 Star reviewed autobiography.

Website | Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Aug 20

Release Blitz: Eidolon by E.S. Yu (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Eidolon

Author: E.S. Yu

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: August 20, 2018

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 83000

Genre: Science Fiction, PTSD, Assassin, amnesia, dystopian, asexual, mental illness

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

When Cyrex Corp, one of the foremost bioaugmentation companies in the world, sends Vax to assassinate Zai Lumero, Vax thinks it’ll be a simple, straightforward job. Zai is only a journalist, after all, and with his bioaugments, Vax has never botched a job before. But then the hit unexpectedly goes south, and before Vax can correct his mistake and finish Zai off for good, he discovers that Cyrex has turned on him, putting him in their crosshairs as well.

With no one else to turn to, he strikes a grudging partnership with Zai to help him expose Cyrex’s connection to a missing persons case and take the company down. Getting along with a justice crusader who hates Vax’s profession with a burning passion isn’t easy—though Vax finds himself drawn to Zai in a way he never expected.

As they race against time to unearth Cyrex’s secrets, Vax can’t shake the feeling that Zai is hiding something from him. And the closer he gets to uncovering the answers—of how he’s related to Zai’s investigation, and how Zai is connected to a past that Vax can’t remember—the more he suspects that finding out the truth might destroy him.

Excerpt

Eidolon
E.S. Yu © 2018
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
The call came, as it always did, out of the blue, making Vax choke and nearly spill his latte down his jacket. He reluctantly set his cup on the café table with a stifled sigh and, after another minute of buzzing, finally tapped the node in his ear. There was only one person who ever called him, and the call always meant bad news.

“You’ve reached Corporate Murder Services. How can I help you?” he answered.

“Very funny,” a smooth voice said. “I have a new assignment for you. Get to my office.”

“Now?” Vax massaged the bridge of his nose. For once, he’d managed to snag an unoccupied window table, and now he wouldn’t get to enjoy the sunshine or the view. “I’ll need thirty minutes to get there, give or take traffic.”

“Fine. See you soon.”

The call ended. Vax swallowed, his appetite suddenly gone. He downed the rest of his latte, got up from his seat, and texted for an AutoRide. Not for the first time, he thought about suggesting a text message next time, or even a video call, as being much more convenient than an in-person meeting; also not for the first time, he reminded himself glumly that that was never going to happen.

The world had to have been determined to hate him today; he got in the driverless car as it drove up, and just after it pulled away from the curb, the screen inside began broadcasting a news story about Cyrex’s CEO.

“Over the weekend, Cyrex Corp CEO, Atali Norman, pledged five million dollars to support STEM programs in schools across the country…”

Vax immediately changed the channel to one that aired several bioaugment commercials—including the one for Cyrex’s latest weight loss bioaug model that seemed to be everywhere lately—before reporting grim updates on the war overseas. He sighed, gazing morosely out the window at the passing traffic and the colorful screens on the street. Just the way he wanted to start his morning.

Cyrex’s headquarters formed the tallest building in Orphis City, visible from miles away. All glass, as though inviting the world to come and look inside; it had no secrets to hide. It made Vax think of an obnoxiously shiny diamond in the center of Orphis’s gleaming crown of wealthy, high-tech development, which was very photogenic and good for luring tourists to America’s fastest-growing biotech hub, if not exactly an accurate representation of the city as a whole. Vax got out of the car as it pulled up and walked through the glass doors at the entrance.

The sleek, modern lobby bustled with people. Vax waved the microchip in his finger through security and stepped into the elevator. He kept his gaze averted as people in suits and lab coats got on and off with each stop, fixing his eyes on the glimpses of his own reflection in the glass, flickering in and out of existence, like a ghost.

At the top floor, he exited the elevator. He tapped the touch screen panel by the glass door that read Atali Norman, CEO, and the panel flashed green as the door unlocked with a click. Bracing himself, he pulled the door open and walked into the spacious office. Atali himself was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows that provided a view of the entire city, talking to someone through his node as Vax entered.

“Honey, I know you’re nervous about starting at a new school, but I guarantee that your classmates will be nice kids who want to become friends with you. Trust me, you have nothing to worry about. Getting into Exelor Academy was the hard part; everything else should be a piece of cake. And if anyone’s mean to you? Just tell me, and I’ll take it up with the school. I’m serious!” He turned around and caught sight of Vax. “Sorry, Cathy, I have to go. Call me back later if you’re still anxious, okay? All right. Love you. See you later.”

He ended the call with a press to his ear and turned to face Vax fully. Holographic text flashed in front of his eyes, projected from the transparent augment by his temple. The morning sunlight turned his blond hair into pallid silver, matching his pale skin, as he smiled.

“Hello, Vax. You’re looking well.”

Vax wasn’t in the mood for small talk. “Who’s the target?”

Atali sighed in mock disappointment. “Always business with you.” He produced a microdrive from his pocket, which he inserted into the desk before tapping the touch screen desk surface. The windows behind him darkened and displayed a picture of a young, East Asian man with black hair and light-copper skin.

“Do you know who this is?” Atali asked.

Vax studied the picture more closely. The guy was quite good-looking—as much as Vax wished he could block that thought from his mind—but he didn’t recognize him. “No, sir.”

“That’s Zai Lumero, age twenty-five. He’s a journalist who writes for the Daily Voice, one of those independent news sites that aims to report on ‘true issues’ affecting people’s lives.” Atali spoke with the bored disdain of someone talking about an infestation of rats in a neighboring building. “He lives right in the city.”

So Vax wouldn’t be traveling this time. That was a bit disappointing, but he’d live. Journalist…what, had Lumero written something online that offended Atali? It seemed like overkill to Vax. Not that his opinion counted for anything, though.

“He’s also the son of Lin Zhao Lumero, the current head of Meridian, Inc. Though he’s been estranged from his family for a few years, due to his decision to become a justice crusader.”

“Wait, the son of Meridian’s CEO?” Vax echoed. Meridian might have been Cyrex’s biggest competitor, but he didn’t think Atali was reckless enough to order a hit against its CEO’s son.

“Yes.” Atali’s lips thinned into a displeased line. “Unfortunate that he has such a prominent connection, but it can’t be helped.”

Oh. So this wasn’t directly related to inter-corporation politics. Still… “How estranged are we talking about? This sounds like it could bring down a lot of heat.”

“Do your job correctly, and that won’t be an issue,” Atali said, his voice turning icy.

Vax flinched at his tone and dropped his gaze. “Yes, sir.”

“Ambush him in his apartment. Make it look like a home invasion gone wrong.”

That was a first…and this assignment was sounding worse by the minute. “That doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

“Did I ask for your input?”

“No, sir,” Vax muttered, “but you got it anyway.”

Atali gave him a cool look. That was as much as Vax dared to push him.

“After you take care of him, take his computer, pod, anything he might’ve stored his information on, and destroy them somewhere far from his apartment, so no one can retrieve the information.”

Because Atali was genuinely afraid of what Lumero had found, or because he thought it would divert attention from the murder? In any case, Vax wasn’t being paid to care. He picked up the microdrive with Lumero’s information from the desk and slipped it into his pocket.

“How soon do you need it done?”

“By the end of the week.”

Vax tried not to look too disappointed. For a journalist with presumably minimal security, it was doable, though he would’ve liked more time. “Okay,” he said.

“So,” Atali said, in a pleasant tone now, “how have you been? Do anything fun lately?”

“No, sir.” Vax stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. He’d hoped the conversation would be strictly business; now he was stuck trying to figure out the least offensive thing to say that would allow him to exit.

“It’s been a while. We should catch up once you’ve taken care of Lumero.”

A wave of dread swept through Vax. He kept his eyes fixed on his shoes, trying to breathe through his nose, clenching his trembling hands in his pockets. No, I’m fine not catching up. Really.

He was aware of Atali slowly circling toward him, all of his senses instantly snapping alert as soon as Atali crossed an invisible threshold from close to too close. Without warning, Atali grabbed his chin and jerked it up and to the side, forcing him to meet his gaze. Vax winced at the sharp movement and the way Atali’s thumb dug into his jaw, hard enough to bruise, his skin crawling at the unwanted contact.

“You’re supposed to look at someone’s eyes when they’re talking to you.”

“Yes, sir,” he answered in a flat tone, struggling not to let his gaze slide away. He didn’t want to make things worse, even though Atali’s eyes were cold scalpels, flaying and dissecting him into pieces of pulpy flesh.

Atali held his jaw for a moment longer before releasing it. “Don’t screw this up,” he said, his voice cool and clipped with dismissal.

Vax exhaled, rubbing at where Atali had grabbed him. He could still feel the lingering pressure, like phantom fingerprints left behind on his jawbone.

“Yes, sir.” He left as quickly as he could.

Purchase

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

Meet the Author

E.S. Yu is a writer of speculative fiction and a geek who lives for video games, superhero comics, and all things sci-fi/fantasy. E.S. is a recovering law school graduate who lives off green tea and dreams of writing full-time; for now, she follows wherever her muse takes her to places sometimes dark, sometimes quirky, but always hopeful.

Website | Twitter

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

amnesia, asexual, assassin, dystopian, mental illness, PTSD
Leave comment

Aug 18

Release Blitz: Escaping Exile by Sara Dobie Bauer (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Escaping Exile

Series: The Escape Trilogy, Book One

Author: Sara Dobie Bauer

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: August 13, 2018

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 21400

Genre: Paranormal, paranormal, historical, vampires, cannibals, gay, bisexual

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

Andrew is a vampire from New Orleans, exiled to a tropical island in the 1800s as punishment for his human bloodlust. During a storm, a ship crashes off shore. After rescuing a sailor from the cannibals native to the land, Andrew becomes fascinated with his brilliant, beautiful new companion, Edmund.

Edmund is a British naturalist who has sailed the world seeking new species. Intrigued by creatures that might kill him, immortal Andrew is this scientist’s dream-but so is making his way back home. Edmund will fight to survive, even while wrapped in the arms of a monster.

As light touches and laughter turn to something much more passionate, the cannibals creep ever closer to Edmund. Can the ancient vampire keep his human alive long enough to escape exile and explore their newfound love, or will Andrew’s bloodlust seal his own doom?

Excerpt

Escaping Exile
Sara Dobie Bauer © 2018
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
The crack as the hull breaks echoes across the beach, into the woods, and inside my head as I try to sleep. I was just beginning to dream of New Orleans. I almost smelled whiskey and muddy streets—almost. Instead, I jolt awake, still surrounded by the fresh flowery scent of this blasted tropical island in the middle of… Well, I don’t know really. That’s the point of exile.

I pull on a worn linen shirt. For the first few months here, I slept with my clothes on in case the cannibals came knocking. They never did. I think they knew this strange white man would make a disgusting meal. As if they could smell death on me. I wonder if eating my flesh could actually kill them. Wouldn’t mind offering a bite if only for some entertainment. I haven’t watched a human die in ages, but now, here we go: a shipwreck. There’s bound to be death in abundance tonight.

It’s not raining when I step outside my house. Yes, I have a small house on a tropical island in the middle of the ocean, overrun with cannibals and all manner of man-eating beasts. Michelle wasn’t that cruel when she sent me here. She did provide me with a home. Congratulations, you heartless bitch, you gave me a house in which to spend eternity alone.

I didn’t even mean to kill that last human back home in Louisiana.

Or maybe I did.

A leathery leaf to the face brings me back to the present as I stomp in tall boots through thick foliage. Despite the lack of rain now falling on my island, a flash of lightning illuminates the beach ahead long enough for me to see them—the natives who’ve managed to steal so many meals from me.

The irony would make me crack a smile if not for my ever-growing bitterness. I once considered capturing a cannibal, but then, they might come hunting me and I’m not half as strong as I once was. And I don’t think Michelle means to leave me here forever. I must wait out her overblown sense of justice.

From where I stand, sheltered behind a fence of palms, I see remnants of a great ship washing to shore. Thunder cracks as a man screams. My focus darts toward the dancing orange light of the native’s torches, and I see but outlines of their naked bodies as they tug and pull on a creature wrapped in white fabric. I squint and identify a man in his sleeping clothes. Dinner is served.

My gaze skims the beach, but it’s mostly detritus and dead men. Dead men are no good to me as their blood is most certainly not part of my unique diet. Oh, but then, there’s a scent on the wind. There is something alive nearby, and it’s bleeding. The smell of blood mixes with the salt of the sea and bitter stress-sweat.

I hone my senses to find the source of blood, but it’s been so long. Once a master, my hunting skills are now out of practice. I take a step back into the jungle and move to my right, away from the dancing torches and the man’s screams, and almost trip over a body. Out of practice is apparently a gross understatement as he was near me this whole time.

Unlike his soon to be devoured compatriot, this man is fully clothed in a coat and trousers. His hair is dark, and he wears black gloves. He’s but a shadow on the sand as I lift him and carry him farther into the woods.

Finally, a meal they won’t steal from me.

Safely inside my little house, I lay the man on the floor and poke at the fire until it roars like the thunder outside. Now, it rains. The ocean storm falls heavy, rocks on the roof, and an animal howls nearby, woken wet from its slumber.

I peel off his soaked clothes as the wound on his head continues to bleed. Unconscious, it’s a wonder he wasn’t pulled away by the current to die in the arms of some mythical mermaid. As I look at him in the firelight, I realize he is indeed a wonder. Perhaps it’s been too long since I’ve felt another man’s skin, but perhaps not. This injured sailor might be beautiful.

Looking at his hairless face, I would have guessed him barely a man. The thick muscles of his chest, arms, and legs dictate otherwise, as do the calluses on his hands. Not only is he a full-grown man, but he’s also a man who works hard. He is lean with hair the color of the ocean on a moonless night—and if I don’t stop his head bleeding, my curse of nothing but dead flesh could continue.

“Don’t die,” I say to him. It’s the first I’ve spoken to a human in ages.

I move him, naked and dry, to my bed and cover him in blankets before wetting a cloth and wiping his wound. It’s a sizeable gash high on his forehead. The dark creature inside me wrestles at the sight of his blood, but I woo it with promises of later, later.

I hold the rag to his head and realize I have no bandages. It’s not as though I need them. I’ll just have to sit here then. I perch on the side of my bed, and my thumb touches his bottom lip. Like a sunrise, this man is becoming more beautiful by the minute. I want to ravage him. I push the blankets away enough to run my hand over his chest. An angry scrape mars the pale skin, and I bet my guest will be covered in bruises by morning. The sea is not a gentle mistress. I know. I’ve tried to escape my exile by swimming out into white waves to no avail. The crushing currents always bring me back.

A log pops in the fire as the rain continues. My house now smells of smoke, mud, and him. I climb farther into the bed and recline at his side. I still hold the cloth to his head as I wrap him in my arms and run my nose up the side of his neck.

I think Michelle would be angry to see how happy I am.

Purchase

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

Meet the Author

Sara Dobie Bauer is a bestselling author, model, and mental health / LGBTQ advocate with a creative writing degree from Ohio University. Twice nominated for the Pushcart Prize, she lives with her hottie husband and two precious pups in Northeast Ohio, although she’d really like to live in a Tim Burton film. She is author of the paranormal rom-com Bite Somebody series, among others sexy things.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Tumblr | Pinterest

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

bisexual, cannibals, Gay, Historical, Paranormal, Vampires
Leave comment

Aug 13

Release Blitz: In Vino Veritas by Sydney Blackburn (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: In Vino Veritas

Author: Sydney Blackburn

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: August 13, 2018

Heat Level: 2 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 33200

Genre: Contemporary, contemporary, family drama, gay

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

Anthony Beretta inherited the family winery at the tender age of twenty-four. It’s a struggle to keep it up, but he loves it and is determined to make it work even if it kills him. That is, if a motorcyclist doesn’t kill him first. He initially judges the man, attractive as he may be, on the basis of his appearance and apparently limited vocabulary. He soon discovers he’s wrong, but by then Oscar Kennett has already judged Anthony on his appearance.

Oscar thinks Tony Beretta is uptight and snobbish, and Tony’s speech for the charity they’re working on together reinforces that, even when he finds out Tony did it just to push his buttons. His adorable curls and sexy glasses might not be enough to change his mind, but maybe there’s more to Tony than meets the eye.

Excerpt

In Vino Veritas
Sydney Blackburn © 2018
All Rights Reserved

One: Beretta Estate Winery
Anthony Beretta hovered in his office, listening to his cousin Katie extol the virtues of their Concord wine.

“It’s a heritage grape,” she was saying, “the kind they make grape juice from.”

Because wine that tasted like commercial grape juice was so popular. Still, there were customers to extol its dubious virtues to, and that was something. Didn’t mean he wanted to meet them, not over the Concord.

“It makes a great spritzer and is the perfect base for a sangria,” she continued. “Not too sweet, but with a full fruity flavour.”

He had to hand it to her. She knew how to sell it. Then again, Katie loved the winery almost as much as he did.

He moved away from his office door and sat behind his desk, looking once more at the open agenda. The winery hosted events, mostly weddings, and provincial regulations had recently changed. He had an appointment with his insurance broker in Bayham in little more than an hour. Which was why he was wearing his suit, instead of the jeans, T-shirt, and heavy cotton button-down he normally wore when he worked at the tasting room. He tugged at the lavender tie that felt like it was strangling him.

After checking the time on his phone once more, Anthony cleared his desk and locked the files away. No one else needed to know how shaky the winery’s finances were. He got to his feet and patted his jacket pocket for his car keys.

There was a mirror beside the door, so one could double-check one’s appearance before going to talk to customers. Anthony gave himself a critical look, pushing his glasses up his nose automatically. The mirror showed him what he was—a rail-thin man just shy of six feet tall, with hair that would never look anything other than dishevelled and dark-framed glasses. At least the glasses went some way towards disguising the shadows under his eyes. He looked like an upended mop, albeit a well-dressed mop.

He scowled. He’d much rather be in his jeans and work boots, out with his stubborn Foch vines. Three years ago, he’d put those bastards in, after his father had the gall to die of a heart attack.

His mouth tightened. He couldn’t think of his father without a sour mix of anger, grief, and guilt.

A discordant jangling let him know the customers had left, and he pushed his door open wider just as Katie rounded the corner. “Ant,” she said, “so glad I caught you. Could you pick up some of that jalapeño sauce from the Mexican store? It really shows off the Viognier. It’s a hard sell on its own.”

He refrained from scowling. Ant was a childhood nickname he’d long outgrown. His name was Anthony. She was right about the Viognier, though.

“Jalapeño sauce. Yes.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve thought about giving me Friday off,” she said, her tone rising at the end of the sentence, but not quite enough to make it a question.

He stifled a sigh. “And you’re not asking Leigh to switch with you because…?”

“Because it’s her wedding shower. Jesus, Ant, pull your head out of your ass once in a while.”

He ground his teeth as he bit back a sharp reply. “Fine. You have Friday off.” It wasn’t like he had anything better to do on a Friday. The tasting room closed at seven. He could catch up on the paperwork while he ate, and on Saturday, he could spend the day in the vineyard, trying to discover why the Foch vines were underproducing.

“You’re a prince,” Katie replied, but her snark had hardly any bite.

Happy employees were long-term employees, his father had always said. Katie really did care about the winery. She just had a social life. He shouldn’t be so hard on her.

And what about my happiness?

As the owner of the winery, there was no one around to see to his happiness. He didn’t even know what would make him happy anymore.

“Sorry, Katie.” He forced a smile. “Do you mind picking out a gift the estate can give her?”

“Yeah, give me a hundred dollars. It can be from the winery, you, Aunt Rosie, and me.”

“Take it from petty cash.”

“There’s no petty cash left, remember?”

He turned to hide his wince. “I’ll take some money from the account while I’m out.”

She hesitated. “The Wine and Song event will go on this year, right?”

“That’s why I’m going to town.”

“I know. It’s just… Is there anything I can do?”

His answering smile was forced. “Be careful what you volunteer for, cuz. Keep your fingers crossed the insurance hasn’t gone up too much.”

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble

Meet the Author

Sydney Blackburn is a binary star system. Always a voracious reader, she began to write when she couldn’t find the stories she wanted to read. She likes candlelit dinners and long walks on the beach… Oh wait, wrong profile. She’s a snarky introvert and admits to having a past full of casual sex and dubious hookups, which she uses for her stories.

She likes word play and puns and science-y things. And green curry.

Her dislikes include talking on the phone, people trying to talk to her before she’s had coffee, and filling out the “about me” fields in social media.

Besides writing, she also designs book covers for poor people.

Website | Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Aug 13

Release Blitz: Irresistible by Andrew J. Peters (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Irresistible

Author: Andrew J. Peters

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: August 13, 2018

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 79100

Genre: Contemporary, contemporary, humorous, romantic comedy, rich man/poor man, action/adventure, abduction/kidnapping, criminals, Greece

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

Brendan Thackeray-Prentiss is an Ivy League-educated trust-funder who Gotham Magazine named the most eligible gay bachelor in New York City. He lives for finding his soulmate, but after walking in on his boyfriend of three transcendent months soaping up in the shower with an older female publicist, he’s on a steady diet of scotch, benzodiazepines, and compulsive yoga. Men are completely off the menu.

Callisthenes Panagopoulos has a problem most guys dream of. With the body and face of a European soccer heartthrob, the vigorous blond hair of a Mormon missionary, and a smile that makes traffic cops stuff their ticket books back in their utility belts, he’s irresistible to everyone. But being a constant guy-magnet comes with its discontents, like an ex-boyfriend who tried to drive his Smart car through Cal’s front door. It makes him wonder if he’s been cursed when it comes to love.

When Brendan and Cal meet, the attraction is meteoric, and they go from date to mates at the speed of time-lapse photography. But to stay together, they’ll have to overcome Cal’s jealous BFF, Romanian mobsters, hermit widowers, and a dictatorship on the brink of revolution during a dream wedding in the Greek isles that becomes a madcap odyssey.

A gay romantic comedy of errors based on Chariton’s Callirhoe, the world’s oldest extant romance novel.

Excerpt

Irresistible
Andrew J. Peters © 2018
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
Brendan Thackeray-Prentiss was not interested in finding a boyfriend.

He reminded himself of this whenever he passed by an attractive young man on the Upper East Side streets, or when this or that friend took to social media to proclaim a change in their relationship status, or when he clicked through an especially earnest e-mail driving for donations to help gay couples maintain their legal status in the Deep South Bible Belt, and most of all when people asked him, “How is it possible the most eligible gay bachelor in New York City is still single?”

Brendan had made a vow, and it had received the endorsement of his therapist, Dr. Clotilde Trapp. He was taking time off from sex and dating in order to clear his head, and to renew, and to rise up from the ashes like a phoenix, if he wanted to be dramatic about it, which he truly had earned the right to be.

Thiago, a model and an erstwhile compulsory homosexual, had thoroughly shattered Brendan’s belief he knew anything about love. After three full months of practically living together—including traveling together to St. Barts for the most we-belong-together weekend ever experienced by two sexually attracted, socially, intellectually, politically and morally compatible people in the universe—the fantasy had dissolved to black and been unveiled as a waking terror when Brendan returned to his apartment one afternoon and walked in on Thiago and a fortysomething, obscenely nippled fashion publicist in the shower. Thiago’s only words— “You can join us if you want.”

Brendan was on a detox from the gays (and those who styled themselves as “gay-adjacent”) for at least thirty days. His hookup and dating media had been deactivated. His libido had been psychically stowed up in bubble wrap and locked away in storage. No flirting with the coffee shop barista when he purchased his daily macchiato. Eyes on his own business in the locker room at the tennis and racquet club. No “what-if” conversations with himself about a new guy in the neighborhood who kept the same schedule for picking up his groceries. Brendan was entirely committed to an asexual lifestyle, drawing on the same well of discipline that had seen him through his presummer purge of sugar, bread, and alcohol.

That was until he opened the tinkling bell door of The Golden Fleece Antiques and Curio Shop on Lexington Avenue, and a young man at the cashier’s desk looked up at him with the buoyancy of a hand-raised golden retriever.

“Hi!” the clerk said.

He had a preternaturally handsome face of Mediterranean origins and the vigorous, cherubic hair of a Mormon missionary. He wore a teal, graphic T-shirt, which augmented the stunning aquamarine color of his eyes. The T-shirt rode up his upper arms, which were well defined like an Olympic diver or a god of Mount Olympus for that matter. The shirt was emblazoned with a triple-scoop ice cream cone and a question: “Want a lick?”

Brendan’s mouth hung open. He couldn’t produce a word or even budge. Helpfully, the shop clerk didn’t act like he was a mentally impaired patient run free of his caretakers.

“Sorry to startle you. I guess I overdid it with the welcome. I haven’t had a customer all morning. Take a look around and don’t mind me. Or go ahead and mind me if you need any help.”

Brendan smiled, nodded, and took a stumbling step toward the nearest display of bric-a-brac.

The shop felt like a cage in which he’d been ensnared. Brendan tried to fix his attention on the chintz teacup sets and art deco tumblers, but his awareness of the clerk was too much. Was he supposed to pretend he wasn’t sharing the same space with the most deathly adorable creature he had ever seen in his entire life? Brendan’s heartbeat accelerated to the range of near cardiac arrest, and he was reasonably sure he was sweating through the armpits of his burgundy gingham shirt.

He drifted discreetly behind a shelf of African fetishes to consider his options. He could make a sprint for the door and fast-track down the street, never to step within ten blocks of the shop, praying to never run into the clerk again. The alternative was to have to face that otherworldly, beautiful man as a garbling, awestruck lunatic.

Brendan clamped down on his panic. He was twenty-eight years old, far removed from his scarring teenage years at boarding school, charting out routes through campus to avoid running into his torturous crush—Jacob Chandler, captain of the lacrosse team, who used to punch his shoulder and call him “Brendawg,” which sent him into a withering, red-faced fits of aphasia. Brendan now held his own with men. He had no reason to feel inferior. He kept his body in shape. He wasn’t too modest to acknowledge his WASPy good looks claimed attention at times. Gotham Magazine had named him the most eligible gay bachelor of 2018.

For all he knew, the clerk was one of those oblivious heterosexual types who didn’t notice when other men took an interest in them. It made no difference anyway. Brendan had sworn off sex and dating. Even if the clerk was amused or offended by his shrinking, girlish behavior, they were nothing but passing strangers.

A reasonable plan came together. Brendan would grab the first thing in reach, pay for it at the counter, and exit the store with the dignity of having conducted himself like a normal customer.

“Looking for anything in particular?”

Brendan seized up like a jailbird caught in searchlights. That friendly, innocent voice. A hint of a lazy, Upstate accent? A cool wash of awareness passed over Brendan. Was he really plotting schemes to rush out on a stranger whose shop he’d entered quite willfully? Brendan came around the shelf, holding it together for the moment.

“My grandmother’s birthday,” he said. “She collects cameos. I’ve been buying them for her since I was a kid.” Brendan tried something breezy. “I saw the name of your store and thought I might be in luck.”

The clerk set down a leather-bound book he’d been reading. “We’re Greek, but we don’t have any cameos that old. I mean, the store’s Greek. My uncle owns it. My great-uncle actually. I’m only half Greek. The other side’s Polish and German. But we do have some Victorian cameos in the cabinet.” He stood up from his chair and waved Brendan over to a glass-enclosed jewelry case.

Ornamental pins and pendants swam in Brendan’s vision. His gaze bobbed stubbornly up to the clerk on the other side of the cabinet. He was as adorable as a puppy. Barely out of college, Brendan guessed. Was he a cuddly puppy in bed? Christ. Brendan’s imagination had burst free from its hinges, and he couldn’t stop himself from stealing glances at the clerk. His pectorals filling out his T-shirt. The golden hairs on his anatomically perfect forearms. The flecks of sun on his long, broad nose. His supple, berry-brown lips. “Want a lick?” Yes, please. At the crook of the clerk’s neck, and his armpit, and his nipples, and every blessed place between his legs. A smoldering image blew up in Brendan’s mind’s eye. The clerk’s mouth opening wide to swathe his tongue around a triple-scoop ice cream cone.

“I’ll show you what we’ve got.”

Brendan buried his gaze in the floor while the clerk unlocked the cabinet. A blush seared his face. He felt like a pervert and never more happily so.

The clerk brought out a double cameo silver hair comb and two cameo brooches and set them neatly on the glass counter. Brendan awakened to the world of the antique shop. Grandmum’s birthday. Focus Brendan. He looked over the jewelry. A gold-framed brooch with a cherub carved on its oval plaque caught his eye. His grandmother had an extensive collection of ladies’ silhouettes. The cherub was special.

“I like that one too,” the clerk said, looking from the brooch to Brendan with a grin.

“It’s gorgeous,” Brendan said.

“Is your grandmother romantic?”

Brendan smirked. “I suppose. She’s been married three times.”

“It’s Eros. The god of love. That’s why I asked.”

Was there a defensive tone in the clerk’s voice? Had Brendan been too brusque? The thought of hurting his feelings shamed him. “It’s really exceptional,” he said.

“She’s lucky to have a grandson like you.”

Brendan shifted this way and that like a bashful boy.

“I mean, a lot of people, when their grandparents get old, they hardly pay any attention to them at all.” The clerk said it like he was sharing shocking news from an investigative report. So sweet and unpretentious. Brendan’s insides turned to goo.

He came back together. “Oh. My grandmother and I are very close. She practically raised me. I’m closer to her than my mother and father.”

Their glances met for a breath and then darted away.

“You know, you’re a really sweet guy,” the clerk said.

Brendan ventured a glance at him. “You barely know me.”

“I think you are. I mean, how many guys take off from work in the middle of the day to buy birthday presents for their grandmother?” The clerk tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans and rocked back on his heels. His face darkened, and he looked askance with a self-reproachful snigger. “I shouldn’t have said that. Probably made you uncomfortable. Never mind me. I’m always going on too much, talking to the customers.”

Brendan shook his head. “I don’t mind at all.”

“So what’ll it be? Is that the one?” he asked, giving Brendan a playful shrug of his blond eyebrows.

“Definitely.”

The clerk grinned. “I’ll get it wrapped up for you.”

Brendan followed him to the cashier counter, where he brought out tissue paper and cellophane tape. With the impending termination of their transaction, a sorrowful ache worked through Brendan. His glance pivoted around. It was only lust. In which he was not permitted to indulge. But what if the clerk was “the one” he was meant to be with? What if fate had conspired to introduce him to his soul mate while he’d marked off a blackout period in his dating life? He had to take these things into consideration.

He noticed the leather-bound journal on the counter. Lettres de Jean-Arthur Rimbaud. The clerk was reading love poems by the most notorious, iconic homosexual who had ever lived? This was encouraging.

“You like Rimbaud?” Brendan asked.

The clerk looked up from his wrapping. “Yeah. I thought I’d try to read his work in the original French this summer.”

“I minored in French literature,” Brendan blurted out.

This earned him a smile of gleaming, white teeth. “I was a classical studies major.”

“I minored in that too.” Brendan tried to explain without sounding pretentious or mentally unbalanced. “I was an English major, but I couldn’t really decide what I wanted to do. I ended up triple minoring in French lit, classical studies, and art history. With a certificate in dramaturgy.”

“That’s amazing. What do you do now?”

“Um, my family has a business. It’s not anything related to my degree.”

Purchase

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

Meet the Author

Andrew J. Peters has been writing fiction since his elementary school principal let him read excerpts from his mystery novel over the PA system during lunch period, an early brush with notoriety, which quite possibly may have been the height of his literary celebrity. Since then, he has studied to be a veterinarian, worked as a social worker for LGBTQ youth, and settled into university administration, while keeping late hours at his home computer writing stories. He is the author of eight books, including the award-winning The City of Seven Gods (2017 Best Horror/Fantasy Novel at the Silver Falchion awards) and the popular Werecat series (2016 Romance Reviews Readers’ Choice awards finalist). Andrew lives in New York City with his husband Genaro and their cat Chloë. When he’s not writing, he enjoys travelling, Broadway shows, movies, and thinking up ways to subvert heteronormative narratives.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Aug 13

Release Blitz: ECHO Campaign by Taylor Brooke (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: ECHO Campaign

Series: Isolation, Book Two

Author: Taylor Brooke

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: August 13, 2018

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: No Romance

Length: 62700

Genre: Science Fiction, New adult, dystopia, thriller, action, captivity, clones, bi, trans, poly relationships, PTSD, pseudo-military

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

Brooklyn Harper’s worst nightmare has become her reality. She has been captured by Isolation.

Trapped in a white-walled labyrinth by Juneau Malloy, Brooklyn is faced with the horrors of Isolation’s finest training yet. The skills she learned in Camp Eleven are put to the test during brutal assessments of her physical strength, mental sharpness, combat expertise, and emotional fortitude.

Juneau offers the renegade Omens a deal—sign a contract and hand over their freedom or endure torturous trials day after day. A test of wills surfaces, and if Brooklyn isn’t careful, her recklessness could come at a price she isn’t willing to pay.

While Brooklyn confronts her worst fears, Julian Matsumoto comes face-to-face with Isolation’s biggest secret. The unknown is at his fingertips, a plan is forming behind closed doors, and Julian must choose between a life outside the facility, or a chance to destroy the corporation who stole him and his friends from their lives once and for all.

ECHO Campaign is the second in the Isolation series.

Excerpt

Chapter One
Brooklyn opened her eyes. Darkness pressed down on her. It weighed heavy on her chest and arms and legs, folding around her like silk. She felt sheets beneath her, fingertips twitching restlessly, stiff from hours or days or weeks of being stationary. She curled her toes and shifted back and forth on the stiff mattress. The fog began to lift. Where am I? Where are they? It came back to her little by little. The camp, the woods, the river, the warehouse, the club, then Juneau. Flashes, stills, moving pictures she struggled to remember, memories she couldn’t fit the right voices to.

She flared her nostrils and sat up, bracing for an onslaught of pain that didn’t come. Her pupils dilated. She took a breath and another, steadying her heartbeat. She lifted the edge of the plain, gray T-shirt and checked for wounds. There was nothing but smooth skin.

Porter’s thumb on her rib—her splintered bone. His hand smashed over her mouth. Helicopter wings. Engines—Rayce in a bed next to her—I’m bleeding—searing pain in her chest—a tube shoved between her ribs—Serisky. She threaded her fingers through her hair and gripped the top of her head, pulling herself into a ball.

They’d been taken. Juneau had found them.

Brooklyn’s cheeks heated and her throat clenched. She didn’t know what they’d done to her. She didn’t know where she was. She didn’t know where to go. She was suddenly at odds with her instincts, battling the urge to break down, to scream for help, and welcoming stillness instead.

The room smelled sterile. Like plastic, maybe. Clean. Brooklyn counted her fingers and then her toes, ran her tongue across her teeth to make sure none were missing, and kept the anxiety pooling in her gut from climbing into her throat. Now was not the time to break down. Her vision blurred. She swallowed hard and whispered, “My name is Brooklyn Harper.” One breath. “I am nineteen.” Two breaths. “I’m from San Diego.” Three breaths. “My name is Brooklyn Harper.”

Silence cradled her voice. She had never been alone like this—the kind of alone that swallowed her.

Brooklyn buried her face in the sliver of space between her knees and chest. She inhaled through her nose, deep and long, and let it out in a swift breath through her mouth.

You’re trapped. They’re gone. It’s over.

Fear played behind the rest of her thoughts. Fight or flight. Focus or panic.

“Okay,” she breathed out. “Okay.”

There was a nightstand next to the bed with perfectly round edges. She reached out and pushed it, not surprised to find it bolted to the ground. There was nothing else. She moved her legs too quickly and blood rushed into her feet. Pins and needles made her knees buckle and her shoulders ache. Her head spun when she stood, but she planted her feet, and stayed steady. You’re alive. There was nothing else. Stay alive. Just the nightstand, the bed, and a door on the other side of the small room.

Click. Click. Air through gears. Something turning. Brooklyn’s attention flicked to the white sphere humming in the far corner. She walked back and forth. It moved with her, following every step she took. A camera.

They’re watching me.

Brooklyn didn’t know what was worse; this stillness or knowing that she was being studied. It made her afraid first, angry second. She dragged her palm across the wall, feeling for any dip or seam, but there was none. No handle, no lock, and no hinges. A tiny window, shielded by a locked metal panel, allowed the outside to look in.

She shoved her index finger in her mouth and nibbled on her nail. Pacing turned to sitting, then back to pacing. Seconds turned to minutes. Or maybe they didn’t. She had no sense of time, no sense of direction. It could’ve been days. Trapped. The word kept coming back, sinking into her bones. You’re trapped. She searched for a vent. An outlet. Anything. But the camera kept humming and the darkness kept pressing on her and Brooklyn was achingly alone.

She debated screaming. Hurting herself. Clawing at the window until the glass shattered—if it could shatter at all. But before she could do anything, the sound of footsteps shuffled on the other side of the door.

Her heart lurched. She scrambled onto the bed and crouched in the corner, poised like a viper. Whatever came through that door was going to let her out or she was going through them. The room illuminated. Brooklyn squinted, fists heavy on her wrists, and held her breath.

“It’s just me.” Gabriel spoke with a warm smile. “I wanted to check on you.”

The tension in Brooklyn’s chest unraveled. Memories ran at her, climbed over her, were shoved down her throat and choked on.

Blood on Gabriel’s white teeth. Black streaks through her blonde hair. The way she tasted.

Brooklyn’s eyes stung. “You’re alive?”

“Of course I am,” Gabriel said. She took easy steps and reached for Brooklyn’s hand. “The Surrogates brought me back here and the doctors gave me a couple transplants. I’m good as new.”

“I…” Brooklyn wanted to lace their fingers, but she didn’t. “I watched you die…I watched them take you and then you came back and…”

She remembered Dawson’s voice from the motel. Look at its mouth.

Gabriel hushed her. “None of that matters, does it?”

Brooklyn’s heart pounded. Her fingertips danced across Gabriel’s face, landing sure and firm on her lips. Perfect. Unmarked. Unfamiliar. Brooklyn’s nail caught the edge of the clone’s smile and dug in. “They did a good job,” Brooklyn whispered. She traced its cheekbones, the slope of its neck. “You’re just like her.”

The smile stretched across the clone’s face evaporated. It lunged, grappling for Brooklyn’s throat. She acted on instinct and heaved both legs back, aiming the soles of her feet at the clone’s chest. Brooklyn needed to get to the door. Quickly. Now. Right now. She bolted, but the clone snatched her ankle and she went crashing to the linoleum. Brooklyn hit the floor and huffed. She cocked her knee back and smashed her heel into the clone’s nose.

The fight didn’t last long. Even if the clone was as strong or capable as an Omen, there was something missing. Brutality, maybe. Recklessness. Desperation. Brooklyn didn’t know. She didn’t care. Her throat was dry and her lashes were wet, and the clone had the greenest eyes. Blood spurted over its lips. It sank against the wall and touched its mouth, glancing at the red, red blood on its fingertips.

Curiosity was strange on things that looked like people.

She jolted forward, grabbed the clone by its jaw, and twisted until she heard the vertebrae on the base of its neck snap. The clone fell to the side; its body a long-limbed heap against the wall. Brooklyn took quick steps out of the open door and into the hallway.

On the right, a line of black-armored guards stood with their guns drawn, pointed at her chest. On the left, there was a narrow white hall lined with doors. Her gaze swept sideways, fixed on the guards. She heaved in even breaths, watching them watch her, and wondered if they were afraid.

They should be.

A nurse slid around a bulky guard. Her face was obscured by a mask, but she held a clipboard to her chest and her platinum hair was fastened into a bun. She blinked, unbothered. “Hello Miss Harper. You’re awake.”

“Where are my friends?” Brooklyn buckled her fingers into fists. The clone’s blood soured the sterile air.

“Juneau thought stress tests would be a good start to their training. Same as you. Now—” She paused to retrieve a long, thin syringe from her pocket. “—I’d rather not have to sedate you.”

A guard stepped forward. Brooklyn stood her ground. He reached for her. She grabbed his wrist and twisted, bending until bone broke. Another guard rushed toward her. She slammed her bare foot into his kneecap. Her legs seized. Brooklyn yelped and toppled to the ground. A thin black wire coiled around her ankles. The armored soldier who had thrown it walked toward her, and Brooklyn growled, snapping her teeth like a dog. The other guard held his wounded arm and stumbled to his feet.

“Do not resist,” one of them said, voice distorted behind a black shield.

The nurse cleared her throat. “Careful, gentlemen. I’d tie her wrists if I were you.” She tilted her head, sighing as she flicked her bored gaze from Brooklyn’s legs to her face, assessing her. “This would be much easier if you’d comply, Miss Harper. There’s nowhere to go. This facility was designed specifically for the Omen Operation. The quicker you come with us, the quicker you’ll see the other assets you arrived with.”

Brooklyn stared at the guard. His gun was mean and sleek, barrel pointed at her chest. He gestured to the wire around her ankles.

“He’ll remove that, and you’ll be free to walk,” the nurse added. “But if you decide to break any more bones, I’m afraid we’ll have to tranquilize you. Either way, you’ll be taken to the holding room.”

She snarled when the guard reached for her. “And that’s where my friends are?”

“I’ll give you ten seconds,” the nurse said.

Fine, she thought. I might as well walk. She nodded to the guard and he cautiously removed the wire from around her ankles. She could strangle him with it. She could take it, sweep his legs out from under him, and snatch his gun. But all it would get her was a needle in the neck.

She needed to find everyone first. Whoever was left, at least.

The nurse nodded and swept her arm out, gesturing for Brooklyn to walk down the hall. “This way.”

They led her through a set of steel doors, down another white hallway. Doors lined each wall. The ceiling was paneled with lights. Her reflection muddied the glossy floor. When they came to the second to last door on the right, the nurse stopped. A gun prodded Brooklyn’s ribs. Another brushed her shoulder. She straightened her back and waited, trying to calm her jittery hands and too-tight lungs. Breathe. The nurse flipped open a security panel, punched in a code, and Brooklyn watched a red light wave from left to right across the nurse’s eye. Retina scans. The lock clicked. Breathe.

“We’ll be back shortly,” the nurse said.

One of the guards prodded her hard with his gun and shoved her through the door.

Soft arms cushioned her. She’d fallen right into someone’s chest and she gasped, squirming against them. They held on tighter. She knew Dawson’s skin. His breath. His broad shoulders. But she squirmed anyway, thrashing in his grip.

You might not be you.

She pulled back and clawed at his neck. “Prove it,” she snapped. “Prove you’re you.”

“Fuck you, seriously?” Dawson snapped, and ripped away from her fingernails. “It’s me, Brooklyn. It’s me, same guy you punched in the warehouse—what do you want me to say?”

“Good enough,” she blurted, and wrapped her arms around him.

“I get it, they sent one into my room too, but c’mon,” he growled. “We’re here. I’m okay. You’re okay.” His mouth was warm on her throat, face buried in the crook of her shoulder. “It’s you, right? You’re okay?”

Brooklyn let him hold her. She touched his arms and his shoulder blades and cradled the back of his neck in her palm. “Yeah, it’s me, and…” Nothing was okay. “I’m fine. Are you?”

“I’m alive,” he said. He pulled back and his nose touched her temple. “Porter?” She shook her head. His blue eyes were an angry sea, crashing into her. He bit down on a wince to keep it at bay. “Julian?” She shook her head again. Dawson looked different now, harsher in this light. His hair was gone, buzzed close to his skin, paler, body more compact.

“I was alone,” she said. “I don’t… I don’t know where they are.”

He let her go and she wished he hadn’t. “I’m sure they’re fine,” he said.

Brooklyn knew a lie when she heard one.

Purchase

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

Meet the Author

Taylor Brooke (she/they) worked as a special effects makeup artist for many years before she wrote her first book. When she’s not writing, she’s exploring the Pacific Northwest, backpacking, or reading. She is the author of The Camellia Clock Cycle and writes #ownvoices Queer books about love, secrets and magic.

Website |Twitter

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Action, bi, captivity, clones, dystopia, New Adult, poly relationships, pseudo-military, PTSD, thriller, Trans
Leave comment

Aug 06

Release Blitz: 2230: The Perfect Year by CM Corett (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: 2230: The Perfect Year

Author: CM Corett

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: August 6, 2018

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 30600

Genre: Science Fiction, time travel, research lab, scientist, aliens, fated mates

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

Alex Coulson spends his days as a lowly laboratory assistant. At night, he watches movies in his lonely apartment and dreams of exciting adventures and handsome leading men.

When an electrical fire breaks out in the lab, an experimental machine malfunctions and Alex is caught in the explosion. He awakens, injured and confused, to learn he has traveled two hundred years into the future—to the year 2230. Under the care of the gorgeous Doctor Baylin Davies (a definite contender for a leading man) Alex recovers quickly, and his feelings for Baylin deepen each day. Baylin is handsome, sexy, caring, and a verified genius—everything Alex could ever dream of. Add in the whole concept of living in the future, and Alex soon decides the year 2230 is the perfect year to begin his new life.

But then there’s the major…

Whenever the intimidating military man, Major Marcais, is near, a strange power overcomes Alex’s senses, clouding his mind and weakening his desire to be with Baylin.

When the major reveals he is an alien and declares Alex to be his life mate, Alex must find the strength to resist him. And while fighting for the man he truly desires, Alex just might discover he’s the leading man in his own adventure.

Excerpt

Chapter One
Alex Coulson’s sports shoes made a loud squawk on the polished floor. His step faltered. Had anyone heard? He scanned the cavernous office foyer. With gray marble floors and clusters of expensive couches, it looked nothing like a scientific research center and more like an exclusive hotel. An empty hotel. Of course it was empty; only the truly dedicated work on Sunday. Actually, the dedicated and people like him—sad, pathetic losers without a life. He shook his head.

Okay, Alex, quit the self-pity party. No one likes a whiner.

After another quick glance around the foyer, he strode forward and headed down the long corridor lined with identical doors. The small panes of glass in each one allowed him a glimpse inside the research labs—all empty. He appeared to be the sole, sad, pathetic person here today. At the end of the corridor, he stopped in front of the door labeled “Authorized Personnel Only.”

One wave of his security pass over the sensor and the lab door slid open. The sharp smell of smoke and plastic invaded his senses. His nose twitched. Crap! Electrical fire! No doubt about it. As the wire’s plastic coating melted, it gave off a distinct smell. He scanned the room, searching for the source, but everything appeared normal. He dashed through the main room and into the smaller lab.

Like an early morning fog, a veil of smoke hovered near the far wall, centered over the control panel. In seconds, his heart rate hit full throttle. “Crap! Crap! Crap!” The Accelerator control panel! His focus flicked to the partition wall protecting the experimental machine from prying eyes. Good. No sign of smoke there. That would be bad. Very bad. He dashed into the thickening cloud of smoke and headed toward its source.

With short, gasping breaths, he swallowed and choked on the thick acrid air. What about the fire alarm? Why hadn’t it triggered yet? He slammed his hand onto the control-panel power button and then stepped back. No shutdown. Nothing. Like ocean buoy lights viewed through the fog, the faint glow of backlit buttons and switches remained. He blinked rapidly as his tear ducts reacted to the invasive smoke, creating a torrent of tears. From beneath the watery veil, he focused on the computer screen embedded in the wall. What the hell? Why was the program running? Had he forgotten to close it the previous night? His boss would have his—

A flame erupted behind the control panel.

“Oh, God!” Coughing, he stumbled backward. What should he do? Brave the flames and try to turn off the program? Call the fire department? Fire extinguisher?

Yes! Fire extinguisher.

He spun around and grabbed the red cylinder hanging on the wall. Maybe he could put the fire out before it caused too much damage. Maybe it wouldn’t even come to the attention of management. He ripped off the safety guard thingy, pointed, and pulled the trigger. The white substance spewed out toward the flames, dousing them in a cozy blanket of white powder. “Ahhh, yes. Against all expectations, Alex Coulson saves the day!”

His boss would be pleased with him. Okay, not pleased exactly because he had most likely left the Accelerator program running, but pleased because a major fire would have brought their unauthorized work to the attention of management. “And that would be bad.”

With a few short blasts of the fire extinguisher, he completed the blanket of white over the control board. He frowned and contemplated the scene. A little more wouldn’t hurt. Better to be safe than sorry. Crouching down, he directed the nozzle under the desk and pulled the trigger. Just in case.

He stood up and surveyed the room. Okay, it could have been worse. The whole lab could have gone up in flames, destroying countless hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of equipment. Not to mention the oh-so-secret data his boss guarded as if it held the answers to the universe. Yes, it could have been much worse.

He drew in a deep breath…and doubled over with the force of a violent coughing fit.

Crap. Smoke. Not a good idea to take deep breaths.

Fire extinguisher still in hand, he stumbled back to the main lab. His breath rasped in his throat, forcing its way past raw, inflamed flesh. At least the air in the main lab remained relatively smoke-free. In a few minutes, he would re-enter the inner lab and clean up the mess. With a bit of luck, the damage would be minimal. Maybe he could fix it himself. Clean up the fire retardant, replace a few wires, and—hey presto! Good as new with no evidence of the program he left running—no cause to fire him.

The shrieking of an alarm pierced the air, assaulting his eardrums with shrill vibrations. He closed his eyes and mouth, scrunching and squeezing his face as if trying to block the sound from entering any other orifice. A millisecond later, a deluge of water erupted from the ceiling sprinklers like an unexpected shower of summer rain. The muscles in his jaw slackened, and his mouth fell open.

Oh, crap!

Water drummed on his head and shoulders, seeping under the collar of his jacket. Mini rivers flowed across computers and desks before cascading to the shallow lake forming on the floor. The fire extinguisher hit the ground beside his foot with a waterlogged clunk.

I’m a dead man. Not to mention fired!

His shoulders slumped. Could his life get any worse?

The floor shook, sending vibrations up his legs and into his queasy stomach. Oh shit. Rule number one: never ask if it could get any worse. What the hell? An earthquake? Light exploded from the inner lab, propelling bright sparks through the doorway like tiny shooting stars. Water sloshed around his feet as he stumbled backward. The Accelerator! “Oh, shit, shit, shit!”

So. Not. Good.

A loud humming joined the vibrations. It pulsed through his body, loud enough to be heard over the sprinklers and fire alarm, shaking him to the core. Paralyzed, he stood transfixed. The inner lab glowed with a pulsating green light, matching its beat in harmony with the tremors running through the building and his body.

The vibrations were so intense he couldn’t move his legs. His head hurt and numbness crept over his face. He clutched his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Vibrating, pulsating, and humming. Could his brain explode? Would they find his gray matter splattered all over the lab and floating in the newly formed lake?

As he opened his eyes, a fresh shower of sparks shot toward him. Burning! His arm burned, stinging like the devil at a precise spot on his forearm. He slapped the sleeve of his jacket like a maniac until the pain receded to a dull ache.

Okay, time to run.

In his mind, he stumbled toward the door, but his body refused to cooperate. He looked down. His legs were—

What the hell? His body appeared pixelated and a few sections were…missing? Whoa! There was some weird, scary shit happening.

The humming intensified, sending a wave of nausea through his stomach. He couldn’t feel his legs. Were they still attached to his body? The world tipped and then faded around the edges. No, no, no! He’d seen the experiments, and he had no way to stop the Accelerator from frying him—like those rats.

So. Not. Pretty.

At least no one would miss him.

Oh, God, that’s a sad and pathetic fact.

Searing hot pain exploded in his head like a—

“Ahhhhh!”

Purchase

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

Meet the Author

CM Corett is an Australian author of M/M romance who has given up on trying to limit herself to one sub-genre. She writes contemporary, historical, sci-fi, and time travel… and she may have a few paranormal drafts hidden under the bed! An avid writer and reader of love between men, she has lived in the USA and traveled the world gathering inspiration for her stories. She loves movies, superheroes, and video games with awesome graphics. She hates housework and anyone who expects her to notice (or care about) the dust on top of the fridge.

Website | Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Synopsis

Excerpt

Purchase

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

Meet the Author

Website | Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway

Synopsis

Excerpt

Purchase

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

Meet the Author

Website | Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway

Synopsis

Excerpt

Purchase

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

Meet the Author

Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway

Synopsis

Excerpt

Purchase

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

Meet the Author

Website | Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway

Synopsis

Excerpt

Purchase

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

Meet the Author

Website | Twitter

Giveaway

Synopsis

Excerpt

Purchase

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

Meet the Author

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Tumblr | Pinterest

Giveaway

Synopsis

Excerpt

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble

Meet the Author

Website | Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway

Synopsis

Excerpt

Purchase

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

Meet the Author

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest

Giveaway

Synopsis

Excerpt

Purchase

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

Meet the Author

Website |Twitter

Giveaway

Synopsis

Excerpt

Purchase

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

Meet the Author

Website | Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway

Please follow & like us :)

Email Us!

Search Our Site

Follow Us On Twitter!

Subscribe to Blog via Email

Tags

Categories

Grab A Tour Button!

Join Team IndiGo!

Grab A Logo!