Dec 25

Release Blitz: The Tale of a Faerie Knight by Tay LaRoi (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: The Tale of a Faerie Knight

Series: The Faerie Court Chronicles, Book Two

Author: Tay LaRoi

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: December 25, 2017

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 74600

Genre: Fantasy, LGBT, fantasy, contemporary, action, family drama, bisexual, bodyguard, fae/faeries, mythical creatures

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Synopsis

After the fall of Queen Mab, DJ Suzuki resolves herself to an aimless life of entertaining, drinking, and hooking up within the Faerie Realm. After twenty ageless years, she knows she can’t go back to her family, despite the fact that her brother still searches for her and the small voice telling her that her parents might have had a change of heart about her orientation.

When a young woman named Talia shows up at DJ’s workplace desperate for help, DJ sees a way to rid herself of the guilt of staying away: she’ll take Talia where she needs to go if Talia rids DJ’s family of all memory of her. Talia will be safe and DJ will be free to live in the Faerie Realm with a clear conscience. Everyone wins.

Except there’s more to Talia and her situation than she’s letting on. Her pursuers want more than just her. They want the Faerie Court, and Talia is the key to getting it. If DJ can’t get Talia to safety before they catch up, a guilty conscience will be the least of her worries. She just might have a faerie civil war on her hands.

Excerpt

The Tale of a Faerie Knight
Tay LaRoi © 2017
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One

The soft glare from the street lamp outside wakes me up. The soft drone of my box fan tempts me back to sleep, but the knocking at my door makes that impossible. I swear under my breath, but I should be grateful. I need to get up and get ready to go to work.

It turns into pounding as I roll out of bed and hunt for pants.

“Keep your wings attached,” I bark, wiggling into a pair. “I’m coming.”

The tiny little man at the door looks me over and scowls at my stained T-shirt, dirty jeans, and bedhead. Given that he’s wearing leaves, vines, and moss shoes, I don’t think he has room to judge. Thankfully, there’s no one coming in or out of the apartments to see him.

“Delivery for Ms. DJ Suzuki,” he grunts, holding out a large wooden crate. At least he’s calling me DJ instead of Daisy Jane now.

I take it and perch it on my hip. With my free hand, I take a handful of pinecones and acorns from the bucket by the door and dump them into the man’s hands. As he counts out his payment, I survey the contents of the crate. It’s filled with fruits, vegetables, breads, a gallon of milk—hey, wait a minute.

With a tip of his dusty cap, the little man says, “A pleasure as always.”

“Hey, whoa, hold on,” I snap. “There should be a bottle of wine in here.”

The man blinks up at me, then twiddles his thumbs. “Pardon me, miss, but I only make your deliveries. I don’t pack them.”

I study the large satchel hanging from his shoulder. It looks pretty weighed down, if you ask me. “What’s in the bag?”

He shoves it behind his back. “Is Miss accusing me of lying?” With his squeaky voice, it’s more like a small shriek. “Faeries can’t lie. You ought to know that.”

“Yeah, but you bastards steal anything and everything. Hand it over.”

“Miss can’t have my delivery bag. You didn’t pay for it.”

I glance at the clock on the stove and it nearly gives me a heart attack. It’s 8:45 and I need to be at work at nine. I forgot to set an alarm. Curse my love of sleep.

“All right, here.” I dig in the bucket by the door again and pull out a small plastic baggie. “You give me my wine and I’ll give you this dirt from a witch’s grave. Deal?”

His eyes get as big as harvest moons, and I know I’ve got him hooked like a goblin on gold. He digs around in his bag and, lo and behold, pulls out my bottle of Pixie Dust Sparkling Wine. “You drive a hard bargain, Miss.”

We make the exchange, and he studies the dirt in the bag like an elated mad scientist, then tips his hat again. “Have a lovely evening, Miss.” With a series of pops and a wisp of smoke, he disappears, leaving behind the smell of burnt herbs. His evening probably won’t be so lovely once he realizes I got that dirt from a playground.

Oh, well.

I kick the door shut behind me and sort my groceries like a mad woman, tossing the things that need it in the fridge and leaving the rest of the counter. Glass jars filled with herbs for tea line the bottom of the crate, even though I assured my boss I still had plenty. If the faerie food didn’t give me longevity, then surely the amount of herbal tea they make me drink would.

Being cursed to only eat faerie food from here to eternity isn’t so bad, given how much healthier they eat than humans. The only things I ever miss are my mom’s homemade lasagna and my dad’s barbecue. Faeries don’t cook much of either, unfortunately.

Thankfully, they like chocolate almost as much as I do. There’s three bars sitting between the teas. Heedless of the time, I squeal for joy and rip the paper off of one, chomping off a huge bite and letting the beautiful blend of bitter and sweet cocoa melt on my tongue as slowly as possible, because, in addition to tasting like heaven, it tastes like home.

It tastes like chocolate chip cookies, fresh out the oven after making snowmen in the moonlight with my brother. It tastes like Halloween candy and staying up late to watch scary movies. It tastes like cake at countless birthday parties.

Just like the chocolate, the aftertaste of the memories is more bitter than sweet. I wrap it up and reach for an apple instead.

I throw on a black tank top and take a few bites. The shirt reveals the rivers of Japanese wood-block style images interwoven with Gaelic knots tattooed down my muscular arms. As I one-handedly rake a brush through my hair, a tuff of dark brown on top of my head and pixie-short sides, I finish the apple with the other. There’s nothing but the core as I put on some basic makeup: foundation, mascara, and some smoky eye shadow to frame my round monolid eyes like my dad’s. A bit of tinted lip balm is enough for my full lips, which match my mother’s.

The clock on the stove reads 8:55 by the time I grab my equipment bag and head out the door for the night. A few of the building tenants smile as they pass me on the stairs, and I return the gesture, even though I’ve never learned a single name. It’s too risky. People would notice too many strange things after a while, like strange little men delivering my groceries for example. Besides, my nightly work schedule doesn’t leave a lot of room for a normal social life, even if I did still know how to socialize with humans. I’m not sure I do.

On hot June nights like this, I drive with my windows down. The wind off Lake Michigan feels fresh and alive. It fuels the hustle and bustle of downtown Grand Harbor and helps wake me up for the long night ahead.

While the city hums with activity—tourist families shopping, local artists selling their works, independent musicians trying to make it on the bar scene—the area where I work is as dead as the old factory buildings that surround it. At least, it is for now. In a few hours, it’ll come alive.

Not that the humans will ever know.

When I first left the Faerie Court all those months ago, I thought it would be hard to walk the fine line of existing in the two worlds, but it’s actually quite simple. When I work, I’m a part of the Faerie Realm: magic and strange creatures intermingling in a world just out of humanity’s line of sight. At home, I’m as human as I was before I stumbled into my mistress’s lair those twenty years ago. It’s all TV, eating out, and paying my bills. The two don’t mix. Faeries want nothing to do with the Human Realm and most humans don’t believe in faeries enough to go looking for them.

Not that they should.

I park and slip in the nightclub’s back door. The vacant dance floor and dark empty chairs look eerier while unoccupied than when they’re overflowing with mystical creatures. I hate being alone in this place. Luckily, I hardly ever am. I find my boss, Iver, in his natural habitat behind the bar whistling as he takes inventory. He doesn’t notice me come in, so I take the opportunity to mess with him.

As he kneels below the counter, I silently plop down on a barstool and wait. He sets a nearly empty bottle of vodka on the bar, which I hide behind my back the second his hand disappears again. He reaches back up for it, gropes around, then stands back up with a cross look on his face.

“Evening, Iver,” I greet with a wide, unassuming grin. “How’s it going?”

He shakes his head, but smirks, and holds out his hand for the bottle. “It was going great before my imp of an employee showed up. You’re late, by the way.”

“In my defense, the delivery faerie tried to cheat me out of my alcohol. I couldn’t just let that slide.” I hand him the bottle and hop off the stool. “Which reminds me…”

As he puts the bottle in its original spot, I flip the door latch and let myself behind the counter. He’s tall, even for an elf, so I have to stand on my toes and pull on his shoulder to plant a kiss on his cheek. It’s completely innocent. He made it clear on day one he didn’t date employees. It’s kind of a bummer. He’s a looker and that’s been my only standard for a while now.

“Thank you for the chocolate.”

“I figured you deserved it.” He wipes my kiss off with the back of his hand. “You’ve been working particularly hard lately, despite your tardiness.”

“That’s because I don’t have any more online classes to worry about, thank God.” Since I wound up trapped in Faerie at sixteen, I never finished high school. There’s a lot I don’t understand about the twenty-first century, but being able to get a GED online has been an absolute blessing, especially since dial-up is a thing of the past. Having friends in Faerie that were willing to help me write up some fake transcripts certainly helped too.

I can’t tell you why I got the dumb thing. The Faerie Realm isn’t exactly renowned for its stellar universities, so it’s not like I’m going to be continuing my education any time soon, seeing as I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got all the time, booze, fun, and entertainment in the world, so why would I? A little voice in the back of my head, which sounded a lot like my brother, just told me it was a good idea. My brother tended to have a lot of those. I get pissed at myself for getting it if I think about it too long. It’s almost like I still want my family to be proud of me or some shit, which is nonsense.

I kneel behind the bar and hunt for something to drink. It’s all here for faerie consumption, so I have plenty to pick from. I think I’ll go with a rum and Coke.

“If you’re so grateful to me, maybe you’ll ease my nerves and drink a little less?” Iver raises an eyebrow as he watches me drop ice into a glass.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply, precariously measuring out the rum. “I don’t drink that much. And I always make sure to sober up before I leave. Can’t enjoy eternity if I’m dead.”

Iver sighs. “What if a human were to come in here and see you?”

“Humans don’t come in here,” I remind him, swirling my drink before taking a sip. Needs more rum. Maybe a little vodka to dilute the sweetness. “The one time they did, Calista got rid of them.”

She accidentally got rid of me too. Some dweeb asked her to bewitch a group of human girls, who had wandered in here, to make them leave. Since I didn’t come here that often back then, she thought I was one of them. It was quite startling to be dancing one minute only to wake up on James-Child College’s campus the next. We’ve become pretty good…well, I’m not sure what you’d call us.

“I just don’t like taking risks. That’s all,” Iver says.

I roll my eyes and lean on the counter. “Right. Mr. Let’s-Stage-A-Coup doesn’t like taking risks.”

Iver gives me a dirty look. He doesn’t like it when I bring up the coup last October in which he and a bunch of his buddies took back the Faerie Court. He’s too humble. Given that he helped take out Queen Mab, whom I served for the better half of twenty years, I’m eternally grateful to him and everyone else for it.

“That was a completely different situation,” he huffs. “You’re comparing pixies to trolls.”

“If you say so. How’s the court doing, anyway? Other than sending us more enjoyable customers, that is.”

Iver wipes the whole counter down before he answers. “It’s fine.”

“Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise?”

My boss glances around the club to make sure we’re still alone. Leaning close, he mutters, “You know the string of human disappearances lately?”

“Yeah. It’s all over the news around here.” I down the rest of my drink and reach for the bottle again.

“The queen is starting to suspect it has something to do with Faerie. More specifically, the Mab supporters who broke out last November.”

I give an impressed whistle. “Queen Titania inherited quite a mess, huh?”

I really feel for the woman. First, her sister, Mab, took the throne and trashed the place for about a hundred years, then as soon as she gets it back, several of her sister’s supporters manage to escape. Now she’s got human disappearances on her plate? Who would want to be Queen of Faerie?

“I thought faeries only snatched children,” I muse, mixing my second drink. “Every missing person I’ve seen so far is either in their late teens or early twenties.”

“We’re not supposed to anymore. She dismissed the connection at first, but apparently, she’s picking up a pattern. They’re all loners. They disappear at night with their doors locked and live in secluded, wooded areas.”

“What does Queen Shaylee think?”

These days, the Faerie Court is split in two. Queen Titania rules the Seelie Court, the area around here. Her daughter, Shaylee, rules the Unseelie Court farther to the south. I’ve never met Queen Shaylee, but if the stories I’ve heard about her are true, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was behind it. After pretending to be Queen Mab’s long-lost daughter and tricking a human girl into sacrificing herself so that the coup could happen, she doesn’t seem like the most trustworthy individual.

“Her Majesty Shaylee is currently away, dealing with some rowdy solitary fae,” Iver says. “Though her champion, Dominic, assures Queen Titania that there hasn’t been any suspicious activity in the Unseelie Court.”

“Of course, he said there isn’t,” I scoff. I scowl down at my glass. I jacked up the rum-cola ratio again.

“Dominic’s loyalty still lies more with Titania. If he thought Shaylee was doing something wrong, he’d be sure to say so.” Iver snatches the rum bottle out of my reach and sets it on the counter behind him. “And you have a job to do, missy. Don’t get out of control.”

“I’m not,” I huff, swirling my drink. “I’ve worked in far more inebriated states than this.”

Iver sighs. “Don’t you have equipment to set up?”

I throw back the rest of my drink and wipe my mouth. “All right, all right. I’m going. Thanks for the gossip update.”

Iver takes my glass. “You’re an honorary faerie. You ought to be in the know.”

Honorary faerie. That has a nice ring to it.

A few regulars trickle into the club as I set up my music equipment. Luckily, all the speakers, mics, and most of the wires were here when I took the job back in November. I just had to provide my own laptop and controller. Neither of them are very fancy, and I had to learn on the fly. Truth be told, I’m okay at best. I can do basic effects, put together a decent playlist, and weave it together seamlessly, but that’s about it. I’m more of an acoustic guitar girl, honestly.

At least, I was before I got trapped in Faerie. I haven’t touched a guitar in forever.

Lucky for me, faeries aren’t very picky when it comes to human music. As long as they can dance, they’re happy, so by eleven, the dance floor is filling up with people and creatures who look like they walked straight out of storybooks and nightmares. Bright glistening wings shimmer in the flashing lights while hollow eyes beckon into the shadows those too naive to know any better. Wispy ghostlike women twirl around men made of sticks and stones, promising them all the stars in the sky in exchange for a drink at the bar. They might give them the stars with or without the drinks since they’re all so high on this place. I feel it too. The rhythm, the magic-infused atmosphere, the secrets and mysteries growing in the shadows. It’s all more intoxicating than the alcohol I’ve already consumed.

So are some of the people who dance in the crowd.

The woman who slips behind my workstation is the perfect example. She runs a finger up my spine as the overwhelming smell of cloves hits me, then she wraps her arms around my waist, swaying in time to the music with me.

“Evening, Calista,” I greet, craning my neck to meet her sparkling green eyes.

She removes one of my headphones to whisper, “Have you missed me?” That smooth, sultry voice sends a chill through me. Her cool body sends another one.

“Of course,” I reply. “Where’ve you been? I haven’t seen you around lately.”

“Out and about,” she giggles. “You know how it is.”

I sure do. I have no idea how or where Calista spends most of her time, and I guess it’s not really any of my business. What I do know is that whenever we happen to bump into each other here at the club, we have a good time together, no strings attached. Some of the other patrons are pretty good substitutes, male and female alike, but I’d be lying if I said Calista wasn’t something special.

“Looks like you’re working hard,” she mutters, lowering her lips to my jaw. “You deserve a break.”

I swallow hard and try to think straight, which is nearly impossible since her hands have started to roam. “Enticing as always, but I’ve got another two hours before my break. Iver’d have my hide if I slipped off now.”

Calista huffs and lays her head on my shoulder. “Who am I supposed to play with until then?”

“Go dance,” I suggest, lowering the volume on one song as another starts. “I’m sure you’ll find somebody.”

“I wanna dance with you, though,” Calista insists, slipping one hand down to the lining of my jeans. “You’re my favorite.”

I try to ignore the way my heart jumps and how my skin heats up and attempt to focus on fading to the next song instead. Paying attention to those reactions could mean I might be developing feelings for her, and that’s a no-go. She just meant that she has a better time fooling around with me than with other people here. That’s it.

“How about this,” I say. “My buzz is wearing off. Go get me a drink, and then we’ll try to work something out, okay?”

“Sounds good.” Calista kisses my neck and disappears. She shimmies through the dancing crowd, her loose translucent sleeves and bare midriff flowing with the beat while her low-hanging skirt sways.

I try to focus on the music and forget her words. I’m her favorite in the way we all have our favorite drinks to get wasted with. That’s it. Even if she meant something more, it’s not like I’d pry and risk ruining the fun we have. Trying to get close to people, opening up to them, that’s the quickest way to let things go to shit, especially in the Faerie Realm. And I don’t mean just bad breakups. She could get seriously hurt. Not everyone here likes that I’m human or that I used to work for Queen Mab. They could use either of those facts to get…creative. Things are fine the way they are. Besides, nymphs aren’t exactly famous for their ability to hold down a steady relationship.

Time passes, and then some more creeps by. I’m beginning to think Calista found someone else after all, but I survey the crowd just in case. I really did want that drink.

The Employees Only door flies open and catches my eye. It only leads to the back parking lot, but Iver usually keeps it cursed so no one can sneak in without paying. Since I’m human, I’m the only one who can go in and out without getting hurt.

A young woman sprawls in anyway, disheveled, bruised, and barefoot. She tries to straighten her ripped gown and breathes heavily as she looks around, in what appears to be an attempt to get patrons’ attention, with shaking hands and wide eyes

Someone help me.

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Meet the Author

Tay grew up reading too many fairy tales and watching too many movies, which is probably why she writes fantasy now. When she’s not at her day job or writing, she can be found taking spontaneous drives to new places, and drinking way too much coffee. Her first book, “Portraits of a Faerie Queen,” is set to be released in 2017.

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Action, bisexual, bodyguard, Contemporary, fae/faeries, family drama, Fantasy, LGBT, mythical creatures
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Dec 25

Release Blitz: Get Up by Reece Pine (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Get Up

Author: Reece Pine

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: December 25, 2017

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 69500

Genre: Contemporary, LGBT, MM, contemporary, wilderness, child abuse, mental illness, PTSD

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Synopsis

Recently dumped (again) for being cold, Guy gladly accepts his publisher friend’s request to go to a remote hut in wintry Nunavut to find out whether aspiring novelist Cam Campbell is a plagiarist. By agreeing also to help the eccentric ecologist survey wildlife for a month, Guy buys time to assess Cam’s innocence and hear stories about Cam’s late father–Guy’s favorite fantasy writer and the man whose book Cam is accused of stealing.

Guy’s investigation is soon biased by his attraction to Cam and the growing concern about Cam’s odd behavior. At times, Cam dissociates and is icier than Guy could ever be, yet he’s the only one who’s ever recognized, at a glance, the emotions burning beneath Guy’s surface. Guy knows he’s the best person to help Cam abandon the dangerous wilds outside and address those in Cam’s head, but he also knows that he’ll lose the chance if he comes clean about his ulterior motives for getting close to Cam. How can he convince Cam to come in from the cold… and why are they both really out there anyway?

Excerpt

Get Up
Reece Pine © 2017
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One

At least he wasn’t nervous about meeting the kid anymore. He’d stopped feeling anything at all besides dread and the wheels of the suitcase he’d slung over his shoulder bruising his numb ass with every stumble. Finally, Guy glimpsed smoke wisping from a rustic pipe chimney a hundred yards farther than the thousand miles he’d already come. His brogues, so iced over they looked like glass slippers, skidded on the porch’s wooden boards. The leather-gloved hand he threw forward to balance himself rattled the doorframe with a thudding knock, sending ice shards showering behind him from the rafters overhead.

“Hell-lo?” he croaked. “Cam-meron C—”

The alluring burst of firelight that greeted him as the door opened was immediately extinguished by someone squeezing the swollen wood shut behind themselves as they stepped forth. Guy was suddenly too surprised to be awestruck over meeting Alessandro De Carli’s son at last. He was glad his frozen eyelids couldn’t blink, because the guy—the specter, presumably Cameron Campbell—might disappear if he did. For a second, he wondered if he’d knocked on the wrong gingerbread house door, only there was no other shelter for fifty miles.

Cameron Campbell was known to be even more reclusive than his late father, but he wasn’t actually supposed to be mythic. The tiny guy blocking the door with sturdy, unlaced boots looked like a wood nymph. Eyes as blue as distant stars stared at him unabashedly. Maybe the reason no journalists had ever snapped pictures of the kid, and why he had no online presence, was because he couldn’t be caught on film.

“Incredible.” Cameron must have read Guy’s mind, and he pressed rosebud lips together in exasperation. “Are you alone? Did you hitch here? There’s no corpse in a cab parked on the highway I need to go rescue? Insane.”

Guy respectively nodded and shook his head, hoping the well-earned insult was aimed at the driver on his way west who’d dropped him at the side of a barely used road, far from the highway. Guy had considered himself lucky to thumb a ride at all out of the tiny settlement of Ipasila, built around a gas station, which was the closest town to Campbell and two hours’ drive from the Hudson Bay hamlet of Arviat in southern Nunavut. In hindsight, the man had been almost as reckless as Guy himself had been for not driving him straight to the police. Instead, Guy had been let out of the relative safety of a truck armed with nothing more than the GPS tracker Guy had brought with him and prayed was accurate.

“C-Cameron…” Not Cameron, Guy revised. A Cameron was a strapping guy—like a Brad or a David—or a blonde woman. This pixie prince was either a Cam or a question mark. His eyes looked magnified behind the lenses of large glasses, the arms of which must have burned cold against his temples because Cam removed them—only for his naked eyes to be comically large. It was still possible he wasn’t even De Carli’s son, since he looked nothing like him. Wrote nothing like him either, which was why Guy was here. “You’re C-Campbell, right? De Carli’s s-son?”

It was Campbell’s turn to draw back in surprise. “Are you from a newspaper?”

“Am I s-selling subscriptions?” Traipsing from cabin to cabin after dark? “D-does it matter? Let me in.” Heat from indoors infused the porch floorboards and bled into Guy’s damp soles, announcing itself as pain in his brittle toes.

“I don’t do interviews about my father.” Cam reached inside the hood of his puffy coat, just a shade lighter than his luminous, creamy skin, to pull a long coil of black hair forward. It hung like gossamer over the gray scarf around his shoulders.

He’d let down his hair, so now Guy could enter, right? “Do I l-look like a journalist?”

“Nah, you look too honest.”

Guy’s brows were too frozen to frown at the sarcasm. He knew damn well he had a poker face. That was the problem; now that he was literally incapable of moving his face he probably looked normal, not dangerously hypothermic.

“I’m with your p-publisher.”

“You’re from Ames? In that case, first, tell Claire she should be fired and charged with attempted murder for sending you. Secondly, and for the hundredth time, I canceled the submission for Close to Home. I didn’t mean to send it to you guys in the first place. Third, stop hounding me about it.”

“Fourth, f-fuck off,” Guy anticipated his next order. “I c-can’t. And I’m from F-Fairbanks Press.”

“Ha! Are you guys even still publishing me?” Cam swept his bangs behind an ear, which was slightly pointed at its tip.

Of course, it is. “You’re the one who n-never answers emails.”

“Internet’s intermittent out here. And there’s nothing wrong with that manuscript that isn’t Fairbanks’ fault.” Cam pursed his lips, which were tinging blue before Guy’s eyes, and nuzzled his chin into his scarf. Guy was torn between thinking it served him right to be cold and wanting to offer his firstborn as passage to the gatekeeper who halted Guy’s shuffle forward by holding up a gloved palm. “Uh-uh, no way. You ought to know the drill, New Yorker. You are, aren’t you?”

Guy was as native a New Yorker as anyone who’d moved there in adulthood and would never live elsewhere. A load of the population was in the same burned boat as him, so yes, he could claim to be from New York, but that was irrelevant while the heat fleeing his eyes stung.

“S-so?”

“So the same rules apply here as there,” Cam continued, as though this were a holiday home in Connecticut. “You know, I met a hiker from Texas here who’d never even seen snow before, but he knew enough about it to come in September, not March. Why do you think I can’t get any volunteers to assist me at the moment?”

Because not only did this waif conduct questionable wildlife research in the middle of nowhere while purportedly editing a novel, but he also lived at the end of a spur trail a mile west of an icy road to nowhere.

Cam stamped his feet, blowing into hands he cupped over his mouth. “Come on.”

What did the little sylph want? For Guy to roll a seven? Produce a magic key?

“For God’s sake, guy, you need to strip!” Cam finally twisted the door handle behind him, spilling back into an amber glow. Guy tumbled in after, out of the deadly night air.

Instantly, his coat became the warmest bath Guy had ever had the pleasure of sinking into. Flames in the hearth curled into come-hither licks Guy’s jellied legs couldn’t obey. There was enough ecstasy to be had where he wilted against the closed door. The sensation wrenched him from numb to overwhelmed in a blink, and thrust him the closest to an imminent powerful orgasm he’d been since…he didn’t want to know.

Cam busied himself over at a kitchen counter, ignoring Guy, who stood, shaking in the doorway, suddenly struggling with a boner that had sprung from pure physical shock, surprising and mortifying him. He had to admit he could see how post-hypothermia blood rushing around could cause such a phenomenon, but man, did it have to? Thankfully, melting into a hunch helped hide it when Cam reappeared in front of him wearing only a few layers of sweaters and brandishing two steaming mugs of coffee.

Its intoxicating aroma further confused his senses by going straight to Guy’s cock. Now, there’s a new kink. He failed to convince himself his hand quivering was an aftereffect of the cold, not the sight of the now gloveless, pale hand offering a chipped mug with the handle out for Guy to grab. Cam raised an eyebrow at Guy’s taking it with his left hand.

“Oh, you’re a lefty?”

“I guess,” Guy said, distracted by just how fine Cam’s fingers were…and how Cam’s palm was apparently immune to the hot ceramic he held courtesy of calluses, frostbite, or immortality. “Looks nice….”

“Not too strong?” Cam asked, a smile curling the corners of his mouth.

“N-no such thing.” Guy slurped half the treacly concoction before gasping, “Thanks.”

“Sit.” Cam nodded to a couch piled high with blankets resembling a laundry pile. There was nowhere to sit except on top of them. “And I wasn’t kidding before. You need to strip, like, five minutes ago. Show me some skin.”

“What?” Skin?

“And a business card.”

Shit. Guy had no such thing—he should have made Huw make him a mock-up one before coming. If Cam was astute enough to ask questions like that, it might be hard to deceive him as planned. Plausible excuses whirled in his mind, but were as hard to grasp as the snowflakes he ruffled loose from his hair, stalling for time. He was surprised they hadn’t melted, since his scalp was beginning to burn….

“Of course, I’d prefer skin first. And so would you,” Cam said.

“I’m here to work,” Guy retorted, reinforcing the lie to himself.

“How do you know De Carli was my father?”

Guy blinked. “Isn’t he?”

“My pen name’s Cameron Stewart. I know my real name’s on the contract I signed with you guys, but that’s Cameron Campbell.”

“That’s De Carli’s son’s name.”

“It’s also as common as mud. How do you know I’m him?”

“Because…” Heat surged through Guy’s veins, and flashes from the fireplace in his periphery blinded him. Flames shot up his spine, turning his thoughts to smoke. His erection stirred as he willed it to subside. Instead, his heartbeat faded, which was a lot more alarming. “Because…”

Struggling to balance his tilting mug on the surging, damp footwell he slumped down upon, Guy bit at his glove to peel it from his roasting hand. It dangled from his lip, and he batted it away to better claw at his collar, trying to escape its stranglehold. Sweat made it slippery in his shaking hands, and he panted more feverishly than he had while staggering outside, where everything was white—as white as everything was turning now.

“Hey, stay with me, guy.” Cam rose from his slouch against the back of the sofa, surrounded by a blizzard of stars that swarmed Guy’s vision. He was warmth personified, the most enchanting thing in the dreamscape Guy had navigated to get here, and he was still miraculous, even now that everything had become a nightmare. His own sharp intake of breath echoed from afar as Cam lunged toward him through the static.

“I hoped you were him,” spilled in a murmur from Guy without his control. Strangely, Cam seemed to slip farther away the closer he got, as Guy sensed himself falling. It looked like he wouldn’t manage to save De Carli’s son after all. Well, he thought as all light vanished, at least he’d managed to meet him. And he got to die in the arms of a beyond-beautiful man.

No, forget that, his consciousness broke through. De Carli’s son was stunning, strange, and fascinatingly all the way out here. Never mind the fact Guy couldn’t write, he was going to live and find out what made Cam tick if it was the last thing he did.

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Meet the Author

Reece is allegedly a descendant of Ann Boleyn. If you have any ancestors who were in England circa 1500, then there’s a 50% chance you too are distantly related to Anne Boleyn. In fact, if you’re of European descent, then you and everyone else of European descent share a single ancestor, who lived around 1400. And in 3,000 years’ time, all of humanity will be able to trace their lineage back to someone who is alive today. Reece thinks it would be cool if that person was G-Dragon.

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Dec 18

Release Blitz: Holiday Collection, Week Five by Multiple (Excerpt & Giveaway)

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Title: Holiday Collection, Week Five

Author: Multiple

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: December 18, 2017

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male, Female/Female

Length: Multiple

Genre: Multiple, LGBT, ghost, hauntings, Christmas, gay, new love, matchmaker, holidays, musicans, bands, DJ, angst, friends to lovers, second-hand sweaters, sibling betrayal, reunited, age gap, stranded, grief, lawyer, writer, Christmas, dragons, fantasy, hurt/comfort, lesbian, illness, young adult

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Synopsis

CARRIAGE HOUSE:
Ash isn’t exactly filled with the Christmas spirit. He left Texas after being outed by an ex, and isn’t in the mood for family holidays. When one of his neighbors shows up out of the blue insisting that Christmas decorations are mandatory per their lease, he rolls and goes along with it as long as he doesn’t personally have to do anything.

The fact that the guy filled with “cheer” is the most attractive man he’s seen in his new hometown has nothing to do with it. He does agree to dinner, though.

Will the determined ghost get her way and make this an unforgettable Christmas for Ash and Tristan?

THE CHARITY SHOP REJECTS – LIVE IN CONCERT
Mikaal Sarhadi has been in trouble since the moment he met guitarist Declan Hyde. Declan treats music like religion, setting high standards for himself and his bandmates. Mikaal struggles to even step on stage. He will do anything to justify Declan’s belief in him—even if that means ignoring the powerful attraction between them.

After a chance meeting with Brandon, Declan’s estranged brother, reveals just how much Declan will sacrifice for his music, Mikaal wonders if he can even call himself a musician. Worse, drummer Hiro’s visa application has been denied. With time running out for The Charity Shop Rejects, Mikaal must conquer his stage fright or lose music—and Declan—entirely.

CHRISTOPHER’S KIND
Spending an unexpected holiday break alone following his parents’ sudden death, thirty-something lawyer Zane Anders attends to unfinished business: getting his parents’ dilapidated Cape Cod cottage ready to sell and retrieving a mysterious Christmas present Zane’s mother left behind. But an acquaintance from the past interrupts his solitude at the beach. Christopher DeVries has morphed awfully fast from the awkward, infatuated teenager Zane remembers to a handsome college senior living next door. He’s still too young for Zane. Although he’s remarkably mature…and beguiling.

Deterred by their age difference, Zane hesitates to make the first move. But when a fierce Nor’easter closes highways and paralyzes the Cape, both Zane’s and Christopher’s Christmas plans are rewritten.

So what if winter isn’t beach weather?

A DRAGON FOR CHRISTMAS
Carmen is eleven years old and wants to get her dragon. Since she was seven years old, she understood two things. One, she was going to be the strongest Dragon Keeper there ever was. The second was that she was going to marry her best friend, Mattie.

As Christmas approaches the magical charms Carmen has to use to fight off her curse are taking a toll on her health. But that can’t stop her from taking her final test to become a Dragon Keeper. If she passes her test she gets her dragon, if not, she has to start all over, relying on different magical charms to fight the curse for her. That is something Carmen doesn’t want to have to go through. The testing is difficult and charms make her sick. Carmen has decided that if she doesn’t get her dragon this Christmas she’s not going to go for a third attempt, even if that means she can’t marry Mattie when she grows up.

Purchase at NineStar Press

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age gap, angst, bands, Christmas, DJ, Dragons, Fantasy, friends-to-lovers, Gay, ghost, grief, hauntings, holidays, hurt-comfort, illness, lawyer, Lesbian, LGBT, matchmaker, musicans, new love, reunited, second-hand sweaters, sibling betrayal, stranded, writer, young adult
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Dec 18

Release Blitz: Only You by Kay Doherty (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Only You

Author: Kay Doherty

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: December 18, 2017

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 51800

Genre: Contemporary, LGBT, PTSD, law enforcement, age gap, grief, men over 40, coming out

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Synopsis

Case Holden hates his life. Made rich at a young age, he slipped into a lifestyle of partying with multiple boyfriends who only wanted to be with him for what he could give them. After confiding to his aunt that he’s miserable, she extends an invitation for a visit. Case plans to spend the time in small town Clover City to reprioritize and plant his feet on the road to happiness. He does not expect the Clover City sheriff to step into his world and wreak havoc on his emotions.

Two years ago, after the death of his partner, Rawley Kane moved to Clover City, trading the painful memories and big city madness for a less stressful existence. Even as sheriff, his life is uncomplicated and quiet. That is until Case Holden rolls into town and reminds Rawley just how lonely he is, and of everything he’s been missing.

Case is everything Rawley shouldn’t want. The man has six boyfriends and a life back in Denver, not to mention he’s quite a bit younger than Rawley. No matter what he tells himself, he can’t get enough of the young man. And Case has made it clear Rawley is the only one he wants. Now if they could just get past Rawley’s guilt and Case’s insistent boyfriends, they just might stand a chance.

Excerpt

Only You
Kay Doherty © 2017
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One

Smoke billowed from beneath the hood of Case Holden’s Mustang as he slowed, easing to the side of the road, where the engine gave a final rattle before dying. Case did his best to maneuver the car completely off the pavement to avoid getting hit by other vehicles. Rain was coming down in sheets, and he cursed when he felt one of his tires come to a sudden halt in the mud along the shoulder of the road. He was on a remote country byway and hadn’t passed another car in quite a while, but he still didn’t want to risk anyone knocking into his baby with the limited visibility caused by the downpour. This Mustang was his pride and joy. He had spared no expense when he bought the car, adding every luxury available. Though he was careful to keep it in pristine working order, this trip had pushed the vehicle to its limit.

Case didn’t know a damn thing about cars. He had entrusted the Mustang’s mechanical issues to one of his many boyfriends—a boyfriend who was just one of many reasons he was making this drive. Case had become a partying drunken slut in the past several years, hemorrhaging money. Now, because of choices made and paths taken, he was stranded in the middle of nowhere in the pouring rain. He lifted his cell phone out of the middle console and let out another string of expletives. There was no service and the battery was about two seconds from dying.

When he finally managed to arrive at his aunt’s house, he was going to have a discussion with her about her choice of address. The last time he visited his Aunt Sylvia, he had fallen in love with her cozy house and the massive amount of land he’d been allowed to explore for hours on end. He didn’t remember the drive being so long and desolate, though. Sylvia and her late husband, Ed, had bought the acreage with the hopes of starting a ranch, but that idea had died a quick death shortly after they had moved into the two-bedroom cabin. The house was situated at the edge of a forested area, with an awesome lake for fishing within walking distance, but the cabin itself had been in need of serious attention.

Two years and hundreds of thousands of dollars later, Sylvia and Ed had basically rebuilt the place. When Case last visited at age fifteen, it had been state of the art with all the modern amenities and taken every dollar his aunt and uncle had put away for the ranch. It had been ten years since Case was out this way. He’d slept in the back seat for the majority of the drive during that family trip, which he now knew he preferred after being alert, painfully aware of every boring mile traveled. It was mind-numbing. Case allowed the engine to cool for several long minutes before he turned the key in the ignition. The engine made an awful grinding noise but never caught. He gave a few more futile attempts before slamming his palms against the wheel in frustration.

“Damn, damn, damn. What the hell am I supposed to do now?” he yelled to the empty seats. He was out in bumfuck nowhere, alone, with a dead phone and a dead car. He was a city boy surrounded by the most up-to-date electronics, none of which were any use to him. He twisted in his seat and looked down the road behind him and then slowly turned to look out all the windows to assess his options and found zero. There were no houses, no traffic—nothing but rain and flat terrain as far as the eye could see. Admittedly, that wasn’t all that far at the moment. He stuffed his phone into his bag, jerking his jacket on with angry motions. The chances of another car coming upon him and actually stopping were slim to none. Walking seemed to be his only option since he couldn’t call anyone for help.

Case grabbed the strap of his bag and dragged it across the seat as he got out of the car. Once he was free from its confines, he slung the strap over his shoulder and locked the doors. Rain instantly soaked through his jacket, droplets sliding down his neck onto his chest and back, making him shiver. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, ducked his head against the occasional gust of wind, and started walking, hoping like hell there was a house or gas station or something with a phone in the near distance. After almost losing a shoe to the sucking mud that lined each side of the two-lane highway, Case decided to risk walking on the pavement. Since there hadn’t been a car in recent memory, he figured he was safe.

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Meet the Author

Kay lives in Colorado with her husband and their animal children. Family is important to her so there are weekly visits to her parents and frequent text messages with her brothers. She has a severe addiction to coffee and Mexican food. She loves to read and write and can easily become consumed by it for hours, much to the dismay of the husband and dogs. On occasion, she can be convinced to venture out into world of the living.

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Dec 18

Release Blitz: The Raven Prince and Other Stories by Jean-Paul Whitehall (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: The Raven Prince and Other Stories

Author: Jean-Paul Whitehall

Publisher: NineStar Press (SunFire Imprint)

Release Date: December 18, 2017

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Male/Male, Female/Female

Length: 54700

Genre: historical, paranormal, contemporary, LGBT, YA, fantasy, coming out, kidnapping, sports, family, shifter, gay, lesbian, romance

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Synopsis

Our Lady of the Axe: In a Regency England where magic used to be real, Eleanor, her dear friend Diana, and three young girls are kidnapped. It will take all of Eleanor’s strength and courage, plus a magical axe and cleavage (not that kind) to set them free, and foil the man behind the kidnapping.

Edging: Will a mistake about meaning make a mess for Tommy and Vince? Or maybe lead to something more?

The Plan That Didn’t Gang Aft Agley: Jack’s plans have a tendency to go way agley. He hopes his special plan for Billy at football practice is the one that won’t.

Family Be Damned: Look for the two Br’er Rabbit moments. One: She wasn’t unhappy Tommy got paid to take her to the eighth grade dance. She even slipped him $25 to agree. Two: Her mom made her older brother take her to the dance. The $50 she paid him was just a sisterly bonus.

The Raven Prince: Sixteen-year-old Mike hopes he can blend in at his new school. Except he’s short, slender, goth-looking with the shiny black hair, black eyes and thick lashes, wears an elegant suit and tie, and drives a Mercedes convertible. He’s also gay, a raven shifter in a human school and eventually he has to be the Raven Prince.

Standing up to the bullies who rule the school—Preacher’s Son, Banker’s Son, Sheriff’s Son, Principal’s Daughter—isn’t blending in. When the Four can’t get to Mike, they go after him through his best friend, Johnny, the devoutly straight wrestling star who doesn’t care about the gay thing.

If Johnny is hurt, will it take the Raven Prince to get justice? Raven justice?

100% of the author’s royalties will be donated to a local LGBT youth organization.

Excerpt

The Raven Prince and Other Stories
Jean-Paul Whitehall © 2017
All Rights Reserved

Our Lady of the Axe

Saturday, 19 May 1804

Cavendish House
London

I looked up at the painting in pride of place. It is not a large painting, no more than two feet wide and not quite three tall. The frame is plain wood, as if the artist did not want to draw undue attention to what it surrounded. The colors are muted, age-dimmed, the oils dried with fine cracks marring the clarity of the woman who is the reason for the artist’s work. The lady. She wears ragged furs, but you know they’re not poverty-forced—they’re what a warrior wears. She stares off to the viewer’s left, her eyes intent on whatever it is we cannot see. A single thin braid frames each side of her face, and smears of dark paint make a half moon around each eye, a slashing line along her cheeks, a vertical one on her chin. If anyone ever knew what the paint symbolizes, if anything at all, the knowledge is long gone.

In her hands she clasps a two-headed axe. Something about the handle makes it appear it was designed for her and no other. The blades are long arcs, and you can tell when the painting was new they would have been shining with the bright silver glow of magicked steel.

I didn’t understand why it was hung above the large fireplace in the parlor where, even at such a young age, I knew our guests were always welcomed, and it was an important part of the wonderful parties Papa and Mama gave. It looked quite small in a space large enough to hold a full-length painting of Grandpapa, even one with a wide, ornate, gilded frame.

Paintings like the ones I saw in the homes of my friends when I went to visit. No one else had a painting like that.

So, since Papa was in his chair and his neatly folded and carefully ironed copy of the Times was still on his lap, I asked him.

He lifted the newspaper, unfolded it, snapped it open to its full width and height, and raised it before his face. This was his signal he was not to be bothered further. But still, his “Earl of Cavendish, do not disturb your father, child” voice drifted over and down, instructing me to speak to my mama.

When I inquired, in my best, eight-year-old “I don’t wish to be a bother, Mama, but I would truly like to know” voice, Mama’s reply was odd. “It always is, my dear. And one day, when you are married, it will be yours, and it will hang in the same place in your new home.”

I kept my lips clamped tight around several opinions. One being the painting was dumb and old and faded and not at all impressive. The other being, when I married ten-year-old William, heir to Viscount Delacourt, in our home we’d have a grand and glorious and gold-framed painting of his wonderful father above the mantel. Or maybe even one of Papa.

If asked immediately after those thoughts, or any time later, I would swear a solemn oath I felt a sharp, twisty, hurting pinch on my bum and heard the words “Don’t be impertinent, little girl.” But Mama’s lips were closed and smiling, her face remembering something pleasant, and there was no one else in the room.

I kept my imaginings to myself, and carefully rubbed my bottom so Mama did not notice. The right part. Where the imaginary pinch didn’t happen.

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Meet the Author

Jean-Paul is, as they say, older than dirt. The stories in The Raven Prince collection are the first YA he’s written, although he’s been reading YA since before it was well-known genre. He’s been a Tamora Pierce addict pretty much as long as she’s been writing. He has some YA stories in progress, like “Prospero’s Zipper” and “The Day After” but has no idea when another collection might be ready. He lives in the Midwest with two elderly rescue dogs—the Peke (Max), and Australian Shepherd mix (Lucky Dog)—and the recent addition of a younger Rottweiler mix (Rocky).

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Dec 18

Release Blitz: Space Mac by Emma Jane (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Space Mac

Author: Emma Jane

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: December 18, 2017

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 49400

Genre: Science Fiction, LGBT, abduction, aliens, interspecies, captivity, priest

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Synopsis

Cocky escort Mackenzie “Mac” Jones has just the right type of blood so that when he steals an odd silver brooch from a client, it transports him to a strange planet. Frightened and confused—and confronted by aliens—he flees and ends up bumping into a handsome humanoid male named Teevar.

But Teevar and his companions are also on the run, and Mac finds himself embroiled in the affairs of his new friends with no idea how to get back to Earth. Can Mac and Teevar survive long enough to work out their feelings for each other? And will Mac ever see home again?

Excerpt

Space Mac
Emma Jane © 2017
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One

Mackenzie was naked because he was too lazy to put any clothes on, and besides, his client was rich enough to keep the massive house heated. His feet were toasty warm thanks to the underfloor heating in the kitchen, and he flexed his toes against the tiles as he reached into the fridge for a carton of orange juice.

“Ethan? Ethan, darling, fetch me a drink too, won’t you?”

Mac rolled his eyes. Fat bastard should get out of bed and get his own drink, although Mac conceded he was being paid enough to grab a drink when he was asked. Heaving a sigh, he found a second glass and then poured another juice.

He scratched his arse, sipped his own drink, and had a nose around the kitchen. Everything was modern and expensive—shiny stainless steel and granite worktops. He wondered if his client ever did any cooking or if he hired a chef. Probably gets takeout, he thought, smirking. Something on the island in the middle of the kitchen caught his eye, and he wandered over to see scraps of paper covered in scribbles he couldn’t work out, a wooden box, and a big fat book about astrophysics that looked extremely dull. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t being watched, Mac picked up the wooden box and opened it up. Inside sat an intricate silver brooch, the metalwork all twisted and peculiar. He abandoned his orange juice and picked up the brooch to get a better look, vaguely wondering if it was worth a lot of money and if anybody would notice if it went missing.

He turned it over to see if there was a hallmark on it—not that he’d know if it meant anything—and cursed when the pin pierced his finger.

“Bollocks,” he muttered as blood beaded at his fingertip. He glared at the brooch and then blinked as it glowed softly. The metal turned red in his hand, heating up, and he was about to drop it when a flash of light made him screw his eyes shut.

He became aware of a cool breeze brushing against his skin and then warmth once more. When he opened his eyes, his heart fluttered. The room he found himself in was no longer the kitchen. He sat up straight—he was sitting on a chair, he realised—and stared at the scene around him, his brain not quite able to make sense of what his eyes were seeing.

The room was empty. White. But there was a door there, opposite where he sat, and as his eyes adjusted, he could distinguish the outline. He stared at it, not knowing what the hell was going on. The brooch fell from his hand and thudded to the floor.

“Shit,” he whispered. God, he was still naked. Was this some sort of weird kinky thing his client had set up? Was the man about to enter the room, tie him down, and probe him? Mac wasn’t into bondage. He tried to remember whether he’d specified he wasn’t into bondage or not.

Screw this. He got to his feet, ready to leave, when something crackled in the air and a voice sounded in the room. It spoke in a language he didn’t understand, and it made the hairs on his arms stand up.

“I don’t understand you,” he called. “Look, I didn’t sign up for this, okay? Blow jobs, anal… I’ll even stick my tongue up your arse if you bung me an extra fifty, but—”

The door opened and two men entered. They wore white robes and one carried a briefcase. Mac retreated behind the chair, though it didn’t offer him a lot of protection.

“Ménage is great and everything, but I usually ask for payment upfront. Nobody told me I’d be doing this tonight!”

One of the men took his arm and guided him back to the chair. Confused and with his heart thumping, Mac sat.

Before he could do anything else, the man grabbed him by the shoulders and held him in the chair, looking into his eyes and muttering softly in that strange language. Mac struggled, but the man was strong—he twisted his head to catch a glimpse of what the other guy was doing behind him and caught sight of a large needle exiting the briefcase.

“You stay the hell away from me with that thing! I don’t do drugs!”

The man took hold of his face and held him tight. Mac clutched his wrists, vainly trying to free himself. He didn’t know what the guy was doing behind him until he felt a sting in the back of his neck, just beneath his skull. His eyes widened as the pain sharpened, and he kicked out.

His vision doubled, blurred. The men both spoke to him and to each other, but he couldn’t understand them, couldn’t…wait…

“You understand us now? Yes?”

“I don’t think he does. You made the chip too strong. Look at his eyes! I don’t think they’re meant to be that red.”

“The chip is fine. His eyes are probably meant to do that.” Then to Mac, “Can you understand us?”

Mac stared. He had an odd metallic taste in his mouth, but it disappeared when he swallowed. He frowned at the men as they peered at him.

“What the hell did you do to me?”

“Translator chip; you didn’t have one.”

“Very primitive,” said the other man. “Backwards even. Are you sure he has the right make-up?”

“He wouldn’t have activated the pin if his blood was incorrect. I’d say his species is a cousin of some sort. Look at him. He looks almost kovan.”

Now that the men had released him and stood back, discussing him, Mac raised a hand and touched the back of his head. He couldn’t feel a hole, and when he looked at his fingers, there was no blood.

“Take a sample quickly. Then we’d better put him back.”

Mac blinked at the men. “What the bloody hell is going on?” he asked. “Who the fuck are you guys?”

One of the men crouched in front of him and gave him a smile as if he was a simpleton. “What species are you?” he said, slowly.

“What…what?”

“Species.” The men exchanged a look and one rolled his eyes.

Mac glowered at them. “This is all very funny,” he said. “I’m a human. You guys are dickheads. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to get the fuck out of this…whatever the hell this situation is, and leave. Martin will be paying me double for this. Bloody weirdo. I’m going to have to add more clauses to my profile now, you know that?”

“Human.” The men looked at each other again.

“Never heard of it,” one said.

“Does it matter? Just make a record of it. Human male. DNA match. Get the cell sample.”

“This is, like, role play, right?” Mac asked. “Just drop the act now. One of you can get my bloody clothes for me, and then I’m off. Tell Martin to shove it up his arse.”

As he stood to leave, one of the men moved suddenly and pushed something hard against Mac’s thigh and clicked the end of it, sending a searing hot pain into his flesh.

“Jesus Christ.” Mac doubled over and clasped a hand against the wound as the man removed the device. He could only lower himself back into the chair, his skin burning with indignation. He blinked and tentatively removed his hand. Again, there was no blood, but an angry red welt blemished his perfect skin.

“What was that thing? You people can’t keep sticking things in me. I feel violated.” He looked for the…whatever it was, but the men had secreted it away. “Right. I’m leaving, right now! I’m going to have you people blacklisted! Tell Martin nobody’s going to fuck him now.”

He got up, but one of the men reached for him saying, “We will send you back.”

Mac twisted out of the guy’s grasp, shoved the other man out of the way, and ran for the door. They shouted after him, but it only spurred him on. He reached the door, pulled it open, and emerged into another room that still didn’t look like his client’s house. White walls again, but this was a laboratory of some sort, and Mac was buggered if he was going to hang around and let the weirdos perform sex experiments on him. They came after him, so he ran on, out of that room and into a corridor of yet more white. Cursing, he chose a direction and sprinted onwards, his bare feet slapping the floor.

The air crackled and voices sounded out. “Attention. Subject loose. One human male. Not dangerous. Not intelligent. Needs apprehending. Will respond to Ethan Smith. Michael Harris. James Johnson. Mackenzie Jones. Aidan Peters…”

Mac almost stopped. How the hell did they know all his aliases? And they knew his real name. Not intelligent? Bastards! They were probably some big-city escort agency looking to put him out of work or recruit him. They’d probably been watching him. Well, he wasn’t standing for any of that bullshit!

Footsteps echoed down the corridor behind him, and he bolted to the nearest door and pulled it open.

Light dazzled him. Noise hit him, and when he could see again, he gaped at the sight before him. The ground beneath his feet was dusty sand, the buildings all around him were a mishmash of styles and from different eras—tall, glass-fronted office buildings, wooden shacks straight from a Western, oddly shaped bricked cottages, glass domes… Vehicles buzzed in the sky like something out of a science fiction novel.

Someone yelled, “Out the way!” and Mac pressed himself back against the door as a man rode past on a creature that looked like a short-eared giant rabbit.

“What the actual fuck?” Mac didn’t have time to take in anything else. Voices from behind the door alerted him they were still coming after him, so he ran across the street and disappeared into an alley between two of the giant office blocks. He kept running, changing direction, twisting and turning, and doubling back until he was certain nobody would find him.

Then he stopped, sank down to his backside, and wondered if Martin had drugged the juice.

The sand, while not unpleasant beneath his feet, was working its way up his arse-crack and reminding him he was still naked. If he was tripping, or…whatever the hell was happening…then he could at least not be naked about it. He stumbled down the alleyway, distractedly wiping sand from his skin, and kept an eye out for anything he could use to cover himself with. The buildings seemed to come straight out of the ground on either side of him, no doors or windows, the walls made from glass he couldn’t see through. Mac stopped and eyed his reflection, running a hand through his hair to tidy it and peering at his bloodshot eyes.

A dream, he thought. I’m in a dream. He couldn’t remember whether he was ever aware he was dreaming when he dreamt, but he was aware of it now. He pinched the skin on his arm, but the sensation didn’t wake him.

Sighing, he turned to look back the way he had come. Nobody came after him. No Kevins or whatever the hell they called themselves.

“Martin?”

He waited but nobody replied to him. He didn’t know if talking in a dream meant he would be talking in his sleep. Nobody had ever told him he talked in his sleep—none of his clients, none of his partners. A girlfriend once told him he snored, but he’d been a smoker at the time, and since he’d given up, he’d had no comments on the matter.

The alleyway ended at a street, or a sort of street. It was an open, dusty area, opposite which there were more buildings, and along which people walked and chattered and rode weird rabbit-beasts.

Mac laughed a little. “No more cheese before bed,” he muttered. Nakedness in dreams was supposed to mean something, but Mac was buggered if he could remember what. Something about shame and embarrassment, probably. He felt neither and never had done about nudity. He looked great naked. He stood, hands on hips, watching the scene before him with a strange sense of detachment.

“Hey! Hey, you!”

Mac turned towards the voice. A man, dressed in red to match his red face, ran at him. Mac raised his hands to warn the guy off, but the man tackled him to the ground, turned him onto his front, and dragged his arms behind his back.

“Ow, bloody hell!” Mac protested. “Careful!” Something cold clasped his wrists, and he realised he’d been cuffed.

“You are under arrest for indecency in a public place,” the man said. “You will be taken immediately—”

“I’m dreaming,” Mac explained, as he was hauled to his feet. “Everything’s okay.”

“—to the holding cells at Baska Hall and kept until judgement is brought upon you. You do not have to say anything—”

Mac frowned as the man took off his red coat and covered him. “Hey, do I get a lawyer in this dream, or…?”

“You will be assigned a lawyer. And maybe a doctor to assess your mental health.”

“Great, yeah, I need one of those.”

Mac allowed the man to pull him along the street. He was aware of people watching him. He was also aware, when he looked closer, that some of the people didn’t look quite human. There was a face with more eyes than he could count at a glance, blinking out at him from a slender frame draped in black. A creature resembling a giant insect or a walking twig strode past him, its arms and legs long and gangly. Women—two of them—gazed at him from across the street, but when he looked again, a film passed across their eyes and they licked their lips with forked tongues.

The man stopped pulling him along as they reached a large silver sphere; he waved a hand and a door opened up before him.

“In you get,” he told Mac.

“What…?” He didn’t really know how to finish his sentence, so he didn’t bother. Dazedly, he staggered into the sphere, and the man followed. There was nothing inside but two chairs, and Mac sat because he didn’t know what else to do and his head was beginning to spin.

The man sat beside Mac and performed a few more hand movements. A brief vibration passed through the sphere before both chairs rose into the air and floated in the centre. Mac cursed. Two belts snaked from the seat, one across his lap and the other across his chest, and held him secure. He swallowed hard and chanced a look at the man to see if he looked like he knew what he was doing.

Then, the sphere disappeared, or seemed to. The inside became transparent. With the outside world visible once more, they moved forwards—the man controlling their direction with subtle flicks of his hand.

Mac laughed at the madness of it all and then, as buildings whizzed by faster and faster, he threw up and passed out.

Purchase

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

Meet the Author

Emma Jane has been writing stories since primary school, some of which still survive in notebooks in her dad’s attic, and wanted to be an author as soon as she realised it was a possible career choice and ‘Pony’ or ‘Ninja’ weren’t viable options.

Her first short story, Club Freak, about an anonymous woman’s determination to find her husband’s killer, was published by Park Publication’s Debut magazine in May 2009. Since then, she has gone on to write many short stories and poems for various small presses and has achieved an Honourable Mention in the 2011 Writers of the Future competition.

In 2014, writing as Emma Jane, she signed her first publishing contract for not one, but two novels. Otherworld formerly published by Torquere Press, and Shuttered by Dreamspinner Press.

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Dec 14

Blog Tour: Being With Him by Mickie B. Ashling (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Blog Tour, Giveaways

Title: Being With Him

Series: A Horizons Series Novella

Author: Mickie B. Ashling

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press

Release Date: 12/27/17

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 145 (42K)

Genre: Romance, Holiday, Contemporary, Transgender

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Synopsis

Zeb Araneda leaves his privileged but closely supervised life in the Philippines to study architecture at Cornell University in Ithaca, New York, where his new roommate is openly gay Luca Dilorio.

Alex Boulet is a successful print model who appears to have it all, but on closer inspection, the ready smile never reaches his mesmerizing green eyes. Tired of living alone, Alex moves in with fellow model Chyna Davidson, Luca’s boyfriend.

Away from his father’s watchful eye, and with Luca’s help, Zeb learns to navigate his new environment, and experiences freedom of choice for the first time. This fresh perspective allows him to step out of his comfort zone and act on his attraction to Alex.

The holiday season has always been difficult for Alex. Sappy commercials tug at his heart, and storefront windows depict idealized scenes that remind him of what he’ll never have: a loving partner willing to accept his truth. Will this Christmas be another disappointment, or will Santa finally make his wish come true?

Excerpt

December

Zeb Araneda tried to concentrate on his roommate’s queer tutorial. With gay dads who led by example—and his own out and proud status—Luca Dilorio knew a lot about being in a same-sex relationship, and felt duty bound to teach him the basics.
Because Zeb was clueless.
And a recently hatched queer.
In love with Alex Boulet, the stunning trans guy who graced this month’s cover of GQ magazine.
“Dude, are you listening?” Luca asked when Zeb didn’t respond.
“Sorry—what?”
“Repeat after me so I’ll know you understand.”
“Quit it,” Zeb grumbled. “I might be new at this relationship, but I’m a smart guy.”
“In case you need a refresher,” Luca persisted. “Rule number one, no PDAs, rule number….”

Zeb sighed and allowed Luca’s words of wisdom to trail off to another section of his brain. Great at compartmentalizing, Zeb tucked away today’s lessons, having every intention of revisiting at a later date.
He realized knowledge was crucial to the success of his romance, but right then, he couldn’t focus for shit. All he wanted to do was pack his bag and catch the bus to Manhattan to start Christmas Break with his lover.
Luca and his boyfriend, Chyna, Alex’s roommate, were flying off to Grand Turk Island to meet up with assorted family members. Which meant he and Alex would have the entire apartment to themselves—for seven days!

Zeb’s friendship with Luca had gotten off to a rocky start back in late August when they’d first laid eyes on each other. He could still remember the outrage in Luca’s voice.
“Dude! You’ll have to downsize. There’s no room for all your crap.”
“Right,” Zeb agreed. “Poor planning on my part.”
“I’m Luca,” he offered, sinking down on a bed. “We’re stuck with each other for a year, so let’s try and make the most of it. Why not start with some ground rules?”
“My name is Zeb, and rules work for me.”
“Good,” Luca said absently, glancing at his phone. He tossed it to the side. “Da fuck.”
“What’s wrong?” Zeb asked. “Girlfriend troubles already?”
“Boyfriend,” Luca clarified. “He’s not picking up his phone or answering my texts.”
Zeb blinked and did his best not to react to the revelation that Luca was gay. It was the last thing he’d expected but a huge relief. Maybe he’d finally get some answers to the questions that had been plaguing him for a while.
“Where is he?” Zeb asked.
“Manhattan.”
“What’s he doing there?”
“Modeling.”
“Wow.” Zeb approved. “Sure beats college.”
Luca studied Zeb. “What are you doing here if you’d rather be somewhere else?”
“My parents decided I was going to be an architect the minute I was born. No one bothered to ask if that’s what I wanted.”
“That blows,” Luca said sympathetically.
“Back home it’s like that,” Zeb explained.
“Where’s home?”
“The Philippines.”
“My mom’s Filipino,” Luca mentioned. “She can be a bit Napoleonic at times. Drives my dad nuts.”
Zeb hooted. “Are they still married?”
“They never were.”
“Ouch. How come?”
“My dad’s gay,” Luca said evenly. “I was an accident, but he says it was the best thing that ever happened to him.”

“He can’t be that gay if he got it up for a chick.”
“No, he’s definitely gay. What happened with my mom was a one-off.”
“I can’t believe you’re so accepting,” Zeb commented.
Luca squinted. “Do you have a problem with gays? Tell me now and I’ll request a new roommate.”
“No, not at all,” Zeb said quickly. “I’m totally cool with your orientation, but my family’s strictly Catholic and they frown on same-sex love. I admire your self-confidence.”
“I’ve had my own run-ins with the Catholic Church, and I can tell you they’re full of shit. Love is love. Period. You’ll never hear me complain about my childhood. I’ve got the two best dads in the world, and my mom and her husband—who also happens to be my dad’s brother—have given me a great life.”
Zeb’s eyes widened in shock. “Did you just say your dad’s brother is married to your mother?”
Luca smiled. “Yup.”
Zeb leaned forward. “So he’s your uncle/stepfather?”
“Which part of this aren’t you getting?” Luca asked.
“No blood was spilled?”
“Nah,” Luca said. “It’s ancient history. We’re one big, happy blended family now. I have a half sister who’s also my first cousin.”
“Dude, that’s convoluted as hell.”
Luca snorted. “How about I unravel the mysteries of my family tree over pizza? It’ll take my mind off Chyna for a bit.”

Zeb still had a hard time figuring out Luca’s intricate family dynamic. As days turned into weeks, and more info was shared, a solid friendship was born. Perhaps it was because Luca was half Filipino himself and understood parts of Zeb’s culture most strangers found perplexing and somewhat annoying. Like Zeb’s complete lack of basic survival skills. When he first arrived at Cornell, he had no idea how to use a washing machine or dryer.

“Dude, you’re clueless,” Luca remarked the first time he watched Zeb frowning at his pile of formerly white undershirts and briefs. They’d turned an ugly shade of gray after he’d washed them with several pairs of black jeans. The jeans themselves were dotted with white lint.
“Am I going to have to buy new underwear?” Zeb asked plaintively. “Most of this stuff is brand-new. And those are Diesel pants!”

“Next time, separate the whites from the darks,” Luca advised. “We can probably salvage your underwear with bleach, or you can go commando.”
“Hell no! I don’t want my dick caught in the zipper.”
“Yeah, you’d end up in the ER for sure,” Luca predicted, shaking his head. “Grab the bleach.”
“What about the jeans?”
“We’ll wash them again,” Luca said. “Fucking high maintenance….”

Luca warned him to get with the program or end up spending all his money at the cleaners. So he did. Life lessons with his anal-retentive roommate had been painstakingly awkward at times, but more often than not, they reduced them both to hysterical laughter.

Zeb made up for his domestic malfunctions by killing it in the classroom. Always a great student, he excelled in math and drafting, very often helping Luca. It was his way of repaying the embarrassing hand-holding.
Since September, he’d perfected his laundry smarts, kept his space tidy, stopped his whining about having to take a bus rather than be chauffeured, and begrudgingly did his own manis and pedis, a luxury he missed above all others. He knew there were nail salons outside campus, but nothing beat having the technician come to your house every other week.

Luca’s lessons on American living had slowly dropped off as Zeb became acclimated to his new world. Caught up in his own relationship, Luca didn’t pay much attention to Zeb’s new romance until after Thanksgiving. By then, he and Alex had spent the holiday together and were definitely a couple. When Zeb admitted he’d fallen hard, Luca embarked on another mission. Teaching Zeb how to keep a low profile to avoid getting his or his boyfriend’s head bashed in.

Not that Zeb was flamboyant or anything, but he was a touchy-feely type of guy and had a tendency to forget that PDAs weren’t always welcome, especially between two men. Since the latest presidential election, the tide of public opinion with regards to same-sex love was shifting back to the Dark Ages, and it was imperative Zeb realize he couldn’t act like he was in a heterosexual relationship. No matter how much he wanted to climb Alex’s bones, he had to wait until they were in a safe place.

Alex himself was more than aware of the pitfalls. Transgender men or women were like blinking lights, drawing haters for no good reason. Throw in Alex’s biracial card, and he might as well draw a bull’s-eye on his forehead. Mindless aggression against people of color, or the men and women brave enough to live their authentic lives, was all too common.

It certainly explained why Alex kept a low profile in public. It was difficult to blend in with a crowd when you were over six feet tall and drop-dead gorgeous, but Alex managed it by muting his colors, wearing a beanie or ball cap, and generally keeping his head down. A pity, in Zeb’s opinion, because underneath the drab black and gray beat the heart and soul of a beautiful peacock. Alex was a photographer’s dream, after all, and loved preening in front of the camera. Fashion was his thing, and dressing down instead of up went against his very nature, but there had been an incident in his past. Something he’d alluded to but hadn’t shared, and his fear of attracting unwanted attention when he wasn’t in front of a camera was palpable.

Zeb could understand Alex’s reticence, considering how quickly they’d gone from friends to lovers. Perhaps Alex felt it was more prudent to take a wait-and-see attitude rather than possibly sabotage their budding relationship with an injection of harsh truth. For the next week, they would bask in the glow of new beginnings, and if Alex felt comfortable enough to talk about his past, then Zeb would lend a sympathetic ear.

Pre-Order at Dreamspinner Press

Meet the Author

Mickie B. Ashling is the pseudonym of a multifaceted woman who is a product of her upbringing in multiple cultures, having lived in Japan, the Philippines, Spain, and the Middle East. Fluent in three languages, she’s a citizen of the world and an interesting mixture of East and West. A little bit of this and a lot of that have brought a unique touch to her literary voice she could never learn from textbooks.

By the time Mickie discovered her talent for writing, real life got in the way, and the business of raising four sons took priority. With the advent of e-publishing—and the inevitable emptying nest—dreams of becoming a published writer were resurrected and she’s never looked back.

She stumbled into the world of men who love men in 2002 and continues to draw inspiration from their ongoing struggle to find equality and happiness in this oftentimes skewed and intolerant world. Her award-winning novels have been called “gut-wrenching, daring, and thought provoking.” She admits to being an angst queen and making her men work damn hard for their happy endings.
Mickie currently resides in a suburb outside Chicago.

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Tour Schedule

12/14 My Fiction Nook

12/15 Divine Magazine

12/16 BFD Book Blog

12/17 Stories That Make You Smile

12/18 Love Bytes

12/19 Dawn’s Reading Nook

12/20 MM Good Book Reviews

12/21 The Blogger Girls

12/22 Wicked Faerie’s Tales and Reviews

12/23 Bayou Book Junkie

12/24 Bending the Bookshelf

12/25 The Novel Approach

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Dec 12

Book Blitz: Protecting his Omega by Giovanna Reaves (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Protecting his Omega

Author: Giovanna Reaves

Publisher: Self-Pub

Release Date: December 12, 2017

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 226

Genre: Romance, Mpreg, Alpha, Omega, Non-Shifter

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Synopsis

Phoenix Harcourt is a single father who was kicked out of his home when his parents found out that he was an omega. After losing his alpha mate, Phoenix turned his focus to his daughter and the successful company that was left in his care. With a threat to his life, Phoenix hires a bodyguard who wants to protect more than his body. He also want’s Phoenix’s heart.

Hired to protect an omega, Lucius Payne had one goal: do his job and nothing else. He was never one to mix business with pleasure. Moreover, finding an omega mate was not in his plans, especially when it is the man he is supposed to protect. When his job becomes more complicated than he was expecting.

Can Lucius convince Phoenix to trust him with his heart as well as his body?

Excerpt from Chapter One

“Welcome back, Mister Harcourt,” Joyce Bailey greeted Phoenix Harcourt, CEO of Phoenix English, Inc.

“Good morning, Joyce,” he greeted his executive administrative assistant, as he stopped by her desk before heading to his office. “Alissa,” he greeted to Joyce’s assistant who nodded at him before he looked back at Joyce. “Come and see me in twenty minutes, I need to look over a few business reports.”

“Yes, sir,” she said writing down his instructions.

Phoenix walked into his office, and set his briefcase down on the chair in front of his large mahogany desk. He loosened his tie just a bit before taking off his suit jacket, resting it on the back of his chair as he sat down. He glanced at the stack of mail that had accumulated in the week he’d been out of the office.

Returning to work after taking care of his daughter, Jasmine, who’d caught a nasty bug from school, was both a relief and a guilt trip. He loved being a dad, but being a single father had its ups and downs and having a sick child was certainly one of the down moments. “I thought Joyce would’ve gone through all this already,” he muttered to himself.

Logging in to his computer, he pulled up the latest business reports from his management team and checked on his company’s stock. Everything seemed to be in good standing, the holidays were always profitable for Phoenix English, Inc. While Phoenix tried to get as much paperwork done while he was at home, Jasmine needed him more. He followed the motto that Maxwell English had ingrained in him and their employees: family always came first.

Phoenix turned around in his chair and stared out the window. He never thought his life would turn out the way it had. There were three hierarchical statuses in society: alpha, beta, or omega. Phoenix was a male omega, a status in society that some considered to be rare with their androgynous beauty and his unique ability to bear children. However, no matter how rare omegas are, they have a low standing in society and, in most cases, not seen as leaders and are supposed to be submissive to their mates.

Alphas, on the other hand, were respected and recognized as leaders, with their abnormally handsome features, strength, and intelligence, they were perfectly compatible with their omega mates or that was what the fates and gods wanted society to believe.

Betas made up the vast majority of society and were more humanistic in appearance and physique, they were also a step down from alphas. Betas could mate with an omega, but they were unable to have children together.

As Phoenix considered his status, he shook his head to remind himself that as an omega, he was running a multibillion-dollar cosmetic company with his name on it. And that made him smiled. Hearing the sound of ice rain hit his window, it reminded him that the holidays were a few weeks away. The holidays always made him think of Max, the man who became more like a father to him than his own father. He missed Max. He was there for Phoenix when he needed him, right after his parents kicked him out.

He hated thinking about his parents, especially the way they shunned him after they found out he was an omega. At sixteen, there were a few things that happened in his life. Puberty. Some experience it a couple of months before or after their sixteenth birthday. But around sixteen was the age when teenagers found out if they were an alpha, omega, or beta. When Phoenix turned sixteen, he found out two things that he had accepted about himself: he was gay and an omega.

However, it seemed his parents were having a difficult time coming to terms with the fact that he was an omega. He remembered that day, as if it was yesterday. It was six months after he and his twin brother, Anthony, or Tony to his family and friends, turned sixteen and he noticed that his parents were acting cold towards him. Tony was an alpha and he was also acting strangely towards him.

Phoenix and Tony had always been close, they shared everything from clothes to secrets. There were a few things that Phoenix noticed when it came to his brother, that he was forgetting conversations they had or places they’d been to. Although they were twins, Phoenix had always thought that their parents loved them, equally acknowledging and accepting that they had different personalities. His parents had portrayed themselves as open-minded and willing to listen to everyone’s problems. They were always preaching to Phoenix and Tony that they should be more tolerant of all mankind and their differences.

Phoenix had heard stories of banishment happening to other kids and never fathomed that he would end up being one of them. No matter how many times he begged, his parents refused to reveal the reason why they were rejecting him. He could never forget the words spewing from his father’s mouth.

“You’re worthless to us,” James Harcourt yelled at him.

“Dad, why are you saying that,” Phoenix cried.

“Don’t call me that,” James snapped. “Don’t refer to me as your father. You are not mine.” Phoenix had never seen the look of anger and hate on his father’s face before. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he looked at his mother and brother, his eyes begging for them to say something in his defense. To talk some sense into his father.

“Mom, please,” he begged. Lilith went to move, but Tony clamped a hand down on her shoulder. “Go, Phoenix, just leave us alone and whatever you do, do not come back,” she told him then turned her back to him. Tony wrapped his arms around her and whispered in her ear.

“I’m giving you fifteen minutes to get your shit and get the hell out of my house,” James told him.

“Da— ” The sound of a loud crack reaching his ear stopped him when he realized what he heard was his father’s hand meeting his cheek. The sting made him understand that his father was not the man he thought he was.

“Do as I say, boy.”

Phoenix nodded and ran to his room, grabbing everything he could fit in one bag, including his three-month supply of suppressant pills, and ran out of his parents’ house without looking back.

Purchase at Amazon

Meet the Author

Giovanna (Gia) Reaves is my alter ego, who is a dreamer. I spend my days and nights dreaming and thinking of the worlds I want to create with words. I started writing about three years ago, when I was introduced to the world of fan fiction. I loved the idea of creating a new world around characters that people already knew about. And ones that are original of my own making. I have written two novels and a few free stories. I am a mother, wife, and a military veteran. I enjoy trying new things such as traveling, cooking, and reading. I try to incorporate some of the things I have experienced into my books.

Currently living in Newport, RI with my two favorite men. If I am not hidden in my cave writing, I love to read and spend time with my hubby and son. I love listening to R and B along with neo-soul when I am writing. When I’m not writing, I am trying to perfect my baking and decorating skills or try to pick up something new. I love spending time with my husband and son playing video games and traveling.

I love hearing from you, email me. GiovannaReaves@gmail.com. Visit my website www.GiovannaReaves.com check out my blogs and free stories. Join my Facebook group: Gia’s Secret Temptations https://www.facebook.com/groups/GiasSecretTemptations/ or just follow me Gia Reaves on facebook. https://www.facebook.com/Giovanna.PM.Reaves
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Dec 11

Book Blitz: Wild Trail by A.M. Arthur (Excerpt & Giveaway)

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Title: Wild Trail

Series: Clean Slate Ranch #1

Author: A.M. Arthur

Publisher: Carina Press

Release Date: Dec 11, 2017

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 90,000 words

Genre: Romance, cowboy romance, actor, law enforcement,

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Synopsis

Welcome to Clean Slate Ranch: home of tight jeans, cowboy boots, and rough trails. For some men, it’s a fantasy come true.

Mack Garrett loves the rolling hills surrounding his Northern California dude ranch. Leading vacationers on horse trails with his two best friends is enough—romance is definitely not in the cards. When a sexy tourist shows up at Clean Slate, he’s as far from Mack’s type as can be. So why is the handsome city slicker so far under his skin in less than a day?

Roughing it in the middle of nowhere isn’t anywhere near Wes Bentley’s idea of fun. Then he lays eyes on the gruffest, hottest papa bear he’s ever seen. But Mack is as hard to pin down as he looks—distant, sharp-tongued, and in desperate need of a shave. Until a campout gone wrong strands both men in the mountains with nothing to do but get to know each other.

Mack intends to keep his closely guarded heart out of Wes’s very talented hands. But for a seven-day cowboy, Wes is packing some long-term possibility. The cold country air can do wonders for bringing bodies together—but it will take more than that to bridge the distance between two men whose lives are worlds apart.

This book is approximately 90,000 words

One-click with confidence. This title is part of the Carina Press Romance Promise: all the romance you’re looking for with an HEA/HFN. It’s a promise!

Carina Press acknowledges the editorial services of Alissa Davis

Excerpt

Footsteps scuffled in the dirt. Wes turned, expecting to see Sophie or Miles. Instead, Mack’s broad body filled his vision. He smiled at Wes from beneath the tilted brim of his hat—a smile less friendly, and slightly more predatory. Wes’s skin prickled with awareness.

“Doesn’t seem like you to not be sociable,” Mack said.

“Stretching my legs,” Wes lied. Okay, so that was partly true. He glanced around, startled to see he’d wandered a good ten yards from the creek and the other campers.

“Don’t stretch too far. You might get eaten by a mountain lion.”

“Please tell me you’re kidding.”

Mack shrugged one muscled shoulder. “Can’t say as I’ve seen one myself, but I’ve seen their tracks.” Wes must have had some kind of terror on his face, because Mack added, “They tend to stay to the north, though, higher up in the mountains. Shouldn’t be much of a bother to us.”

“Good.” He took a breath to calm his suddenly racing heart, which could have been from the mountain lion scare as much as the way Mack had taken a protective step closer. Close enough that he could smell sweat and horse, and something deeper that was all Mack. Not cologne. He doubted Mack wore that shit around the horses. But whatever the smell was, it was damned intoxicating.

“You not enjoying the trip?” Mack asked out of the blue.

“Sure. Not used to riding on a horse.”

Mack tilted his head, that smile dimming. “You sure that’s it? A few times on the trail, you looked…I don’t know. Sad?”

Mack had been checking him out while they were riding? “I’m not sad, exactly. Sometimes I get inside my own head and it isn’t a pretty place to be. All the regrets and bad choices. It’s why I usually am the center of attention in a crowd. Talking and entertaining people lets me not think about my problems.”

“I hear ya.” Mack shoved his hands into his jeans pockets, pulling the material tight across his crotch. Wes couldn’t help taking a peek at the package, nicely outlined even under denim.

Dropping to his knees and blowing the tour guide for being kind was probably frowned upon by management, so Wes forced his gaze back up. Mack watched him with open amusement in his eyes, even if his lips were still flat. Curious, Wes poked out his tongue and clacked the ball of his tongue stud against his teeth. Mack’s nostrils flared.

“Ever felt one of these against your—” Wes glanced at Mack’s crotch “—skin?”

Mack growled. “You’re trouble.”

“In the flesh.”

“Troublemakers like you deserve spankings,” Mack retorted, his voice low and growly.

Wes’s dick perked up. “Please, daddy.”

“Fuck.” Mack took a deliberate step backward, big arms crossing over his chest.

“Was that an invitation?” Wes purred, cocking his hip just so.

His only response was another growl—the kind that made Wes’s belly tighten in anticipation of action. Instead, Mack threw his shoulders back and said flatly, “I don’t fuck the guests.”

“Then how about after checkout on Saturday? I won’t be a guest anymore.”

Mack’s silence said loads to the fact that he was actually considering Wes’s offer, and hell yes, Wes would love to bend over for Mack—a big, stallion of a man who probably fucked like a champion.

Purchase

Carina Press | Amazon

Meet the Author

A.M. Arthur was born and raised in the same kind of small town that she likes to write about, a stone’s throw from both beach resorts and generational farmland. She’s been creating stories in her head since she was a child and scribbling them down nearly as long, in a losing battle to make the fictional voices stop. She credits an early fascination with male friendships (bromance hadn’t been coined yet back then) with her later discovery of and subsequent love affair with m/m romance stories. A.M. Arthur’s work is available from Carina Press, Dreamspinner Press, SMP Swerve and Briggs-King Books.

When not exorcising the voices in her head, she toils away in a retail job that tests her patience and gives her lots of story fodder. She can also be found in her kitchen, pretending she’s an amateur chef and trying to not poison herself or others with her cuisine experiments.

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Dec 11

Release Blitz: Holiday Collection, Week Four by Multiple (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Holiday Collection, Week Four

Author: Multiple

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: December 11, 2017

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: Multiple

Genre: Multiple, New Year’s Eve, reunited, geeks/nerds, ballet dancer, hockey player, men with childlren, friends to lovers, reunited, holiday, slow burn, hurt-comfort, depression, family, age gap, college, professor/teacher, contemporary, vacation/travel, secret agents/spies, action thriller, enemies-to-lovers

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Synopsis

OLD ACQUAINTANCE:
Damon is getting over a bad breakup. Ioan is painfully shy. Neither expects to enjoy the New Year’s Eve party to which their mutual friend, Katie, has dragged them. However, their unexpected reunion may make them change their minds by the time midnight strikes.

BALLERINA DAD:
Attending his daughter’s holiday dance recital should be easy for pro hockey player Patrick Barnes. Showing up in a tutu, however, wasn’t exactly part of the plan. And yet the holidays get even more interesting when he bumps into Lee, the man he let get away years ago.

Ballet instructor Lee can’t believe who just walked into his studio. He also can’t believe how quickly the flare of attraction between he and Patrick resurfaces, despite the years that have gone by since they last spoke.

Once upon a time, they let opportunities get away. Is it possible they’ll now have the chance to pursue the spark that has come back to life after just one conversation?

Holidays are a time for giving, and neither Patrick nor Lee are about to take this particular gift for granted.

AS THE SNOW FALLS:
Christmas is fast approaching and Kade’s parents have abandoned him for the holiday. Thankfully his best friend, Byron, invites him to spend the holidays with him and his family. That night, in the dim glow of the Christmas tree’s lights, Byron and Kade share a kiss, but Byron backs off before it can go further.

Can Kade stand up for what he wants and convince Byron he’s not so easily broken, or will he need a Christmas miracle to bring them together?

CONNECTION TO CHRISTMAS
Ty Hallahan was on a mission: make it home in time for Christmas—or suffer his Irish Catholic mother’s wrath. But thanks to a series of misadventures, his simple four-hour flight has turned into a two-day ordeal. And just as he has almost reached his destination, Ty is stuck once again—and on Christmas Eve, no less.

But maybe Santa has something up his sleeve for Ty? Wandering through the airport terminal, Ty runs into the man he has secretly loved for years. Once Ty’s professor, Dr. Ernesto Goncalves—Dr. G for short—is also stuck for the holidays, and Ty determines to make the most of their time together.

RESET TO ZERO
Agent Azzerare and the black market criminal known as Vulpe meet once a year every holiday season to collaborate on certain secret missions. Azzerare is less than enthusiastic when Management first suggests it; Vulpe is amoral, self-serving, and criminally inclined—everything Azzerare stands against. But as the years pass and the missions continue, Azzerare sees a new side of Vulpe: someone loyal, clever, and willing to risk his life to save Azzerare’s. Azzerare must decide how he feels about his partner—and if it’s love, he has to ask himself whether he’s willing to risk his career to pursue it, because an emotionally compromised agent is a dead one in Management’s eyes.

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Our Lady of the Axe

Saturday, 19 May 1804

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