Nov 06

Blog Tour: One by Brenda Murphy (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Giveaways

Title: One

Author: Brenda Murphy

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: November 6, 2017

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 61600

Genre: Contemporary, romance, contemporary, BDSM, PTSD, ex-military, sports, vacation, Italy

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Synopsis

Fast cars, motorcycles, and one-night stands have been Mac’s life since she left the military. Bitter over a lost love and never one to gamble, she ends potential relationships with surgical precision to avoid another heartache. After her flight to Italy is delayed by a wicked storm, she intervenes when a drunk passenger threatens the desk agent.

Impressed with her courage, fellow passenger Lana Baroni offers to buy her a drink. One coffee and an upgrade later, they spend the fight to Italy talking cars and racing. When a sightseeing date with Lana turns into an afternoon tryst, Mac has to choose: hit the brakes or roll the throttle and risk everything to win Lana’s love.

Excerpt

One
Brenda Murphy © 2017
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One

“Come on, Mac. The pool is going to be shut down. When would be a better time to go?”

Mac sat back in her chair and peeled the label off her beer bottle. “It’d be crazy expensive. Easy for you to talk but I’m on my own.”

Nicole sipped her wine. Mr. Nips meowed loudly and jumped into Nicole’s lap. He rubbed his head on Nicole’s chin, making her spill her wine.

Mac laughed and handed Nicole a napkin. “So, how’s it going with Virginia? You guys good?”

“Thanks.” Nicole wiped her chin and pushed the cat to the floor. “Better than good. She’s everything. It’s incredible.” Nicole’s cheeks were bright red. “I’m picking her up from the airport tonight.” She took a sip of her wine. “I wish you’d find someone, Mac. You deserve to be happy.”

Mac snorted. Happy. What does that even mean? “I’m happy. Enough.” She shifted in her seat, causing her ring of keys to jingle. Liar. A disgruntled Mr. Nips batted at her keys, making them jingle again.

“You have to do this.” Nicole reached out and touched Mac’s hand. “I wouldn’t be picking up Virginia if you hadn’t pushed me to talk to her. This time it’s me to you. Fuck you if you don’t take this trip.”

Mac set her beer down. “I’ll think about it.” She stood up and finished her beer in two long swallows before she tossed the bottle into the recycle bin. She bent down and rubbed Mr. Nips between his ears. “See you tomorrow. Don’t let your girlfriend make you late again.”

Nicole blushed and rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mac.”

Mac let herself out. She took the stairs down two at a time. She stepped over her bike, turned the key, and kicked the engine over. The low rumble between her legs was satisfying and comforting. She checked the time on her phone. Home? The bar? She took the long way home, tearing through the dark night trying to go fast enough to outrun the relentless sadness chasing her.

Chapter Two

The airport was hot and sticky. Mac wiped at the back of her neck with her kerchief before stuffing it back in her pocket. She checked the information board. “DELAYED” flashed by her flight number and she stifled a groan. After loitering in the airport bookshop, she settled on a copy of Motor Sport magazine and a pack of mints. She walked back to her gate. A group of disgruntled travelers in suits was packed around the desk haranguing the gate agent. Mac pressed her lips together. Her tolerance for self-important businessmen was low on a good day. And with the possibility of a long weather delay, she looked for a seat as far from the desk as she could find. She found an empty row of seats and sat down. Mac tucked her daypack between her feet before she pulled out her phone to check the weather. The line of thunderstorms delaying her flight shone bright red with bands of yellow and dark green on the weather app radar.

“Excuse me. Would you watch my bag? I need to visit the ladies’. I don’t want to drag it with me.”

Mac looked up from her phone. A tall woman in a black cotton knit dress stood in front of her. Her eyebrows were delicately arched and she spoke with the barest hint of an accent. Pale blue eyes and a quiet smile graced her face.

“Um sure.”

The woman placed her monogrammed black leather bag next to Mac’s boot and held Mac’s gaze.

Exquisite. The bag and the woman. “I’d be happy to.” Mac stuffed her phone in her pocket. Her beat-up day bag looked even worse resting on the floor next to the woman’s bespoke luggage. She watched the woman as she wove through the crowd. Her sandy brown hair brushed her shoulders as she strode to the bathroom, graceful in a pair of black pumps. Who wears pumps on a plane? Mac looked at the rows of travelers seated behind and in front of her and the empty seats around her. She peeked at the luggage tag attached to the woman’s carry-on bag and read it. Lana Baroni. Name’s as fancy as her bag. Why me?

Her black T-shirt, biker boots, and jeans were unique among the crowd. Most of the other travelers were dressed in baggy shorts and running shoes, track suits or yoga pants and T-shirts, except for the cool kids in skinny jeans and Chucks. Don’t make a big deal out of it. The woman walked back through the crowd, full-figured and elegant. Mac was mesmerized watching her as she approached. Her long black dress flowed around her legs, the knee-length slit in the skirt showing off an occasional glimpse of her long legs. Damn. As good coming as going. Mac sat up straighter in her seat.

“Thank you.” The woman sat down, choosing the seat next to Mac over the numerous empty seats on either side of her. Mac inhaled her perfume, appreciating the subtle spicy scent of ginger and cedarwood the woman wore.

“You’re welcome. Are you on this flight?” Mac turned to look into her eyes. Cornflower. That’s the color of her eyes. Cornflower blue.

“Yes. Trying to get home.” She shifted to face Mac, her knee brushing against Mac’s thigh before she straightened out her legs and sat back in her seat.

“Where’s home?”

“Moltrasio, but I have some business in Milan beforehand. And you?”

“I live here but I’m trying to get to Monza.”

“For the Grand Prix, yes?”

“Yes. How’d ya know? You psychic?”

“This.” She tapped the magazine in Mac’s lap.

Mac smiled and searched for something else to say. I could listen to her talk all day. “You follow Formula One?”

“You could say that.” Her mouth quirked up on one side. “Did they say how long before we board?”

“Nah, our plane had to land in Norfolk. The storms have grounded everyone.”

The woman frowned and pulled an e-reader from her bag. Mac took the clue and slid back in her seat and opened her magazine. The images of the drivers and cars sent a thrill through her. She flipped through it, trying to envision how it would be watching the race in person. She remembered the first time her dad took her to a race. They were standing on the concrete apron of the grandstands at the half-mile track in Richmond when the drivers started their engines. Mac’s dad had boosted her up on his shoulders to see over the crowd. The scent of his drugstore aftershave and cigarette smoke blended with the smell of fuel and sweat and adrenaline that was NASCAR. She shivered remembering the way her body vibrated with the roar of the engines. She traced her fingers over the images of the cars on the page. This is for you, Dad. And me.

The storm raged outside. Rain and small hailstones hit and splattered against the glass wall behind them as dark clouds shadowed the waiting area. Mac tried to focus on her magazine but the hint of cedarwood and ginger perfume from the woman next to her wove its way into her thoughts. She shifted in her seat, careful to not bump the woman sitting next to her. Once she’d pushed her earbuds in she swiped to her favorite playlist and turned it up to drown out the sounds of the rain and hail.

She kept her head down and watched the woman from under her lashes. Late thirties early forties. Money. Class. The woman was solidly built and broad shouldered. Her dress was short-sleeved and displayed her well-muscled arms. Swimmer? Tennis player? Mac was a woman of few words but in this moment with this woman she had so many she wanted to say.

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Meet the Author

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

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BDSM, Contemporary, ex-military, Italy, PTSD, Romance, Sports, vacation
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Nov 06

Blog Tour: Through My Own Lens by Mickie B. Ashling (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Giveaways

Title: Through My Own Lens

Series: Horizons, Book Five

Author: Mickie B. Ashling

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: November 6, 2017

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 54700

Genre: Contemporary, intersex, gay, family drama, romance, contemporary, addiction, coming of age, mental illness

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Synopsis

Luca Dilorio begins his freshman year at Cornell, while his boyfriend, Chyna Davidson, embarks on a modeling career based out of Manhattan, New York. Although Luca is only a five-hour drive away, he may as well be on another planet. Having watched Chyna’s back for years, Luca struggles with the separation. His new roommate, Zeb Araneda, lends an ear, and a solid friendship is born, but it doesn’t keep Luca from worrying.

Chyna learns to navigate the ups and downs of the modeling industry on his own. However, this proves difficult with Luca micromanaging everything, from Chyna’s diet to his choice in a roommate. After rejecting several candidates, Chyna and Luca decide on fellow model, Alex Boulet, who turns out to be perfect in more ways than one.

An unexpected appearance raises a multitude of concerns, and the entire family—Lil, Grier, Clark, Jody, and Chip—descend upon the young couple to offer their help. Will Luca and Chyna weather the storm or succumb to pressure from multiple fronts?

Excerpt

Through My Own Lens
Mickie B. Ashling © 2017
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One

Lowering his camera, Ian Carmichael squinted across the divide of harsh lights and eviscerated me with one question. “Do you always look like this, or did someone come in your mouth without your permission?”

Stunned by the unexpected attack, I struggled to catch my breath while deliberating my next move. I could throat punch the asshole—and get on the blacklist—or choose the high road and keep my dignity intact.

“Don’t just stand there, Red. Answer me when I ask you something.”

My pulse sped up, and I was tempted to walk out the door, but that would only prove I was an incompetent newbie. I decided to tough it out, but not until I had my say.

“First off, my name is Chyna Davidson, not Red, and you might consider rephrasing your question.”

Instead of backing down, Ian challenged. “What the hell kind of name is Chyna anyway?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but my mother was a fan of Wilson Phillips.”

“Who?”

“Forget it.” Clueless motherfucker.

“Listen up, kiddo. Once you’ve attained supermodel status, you can patent that insouciance, but at the moment, you’re nothing but a wannabe. Start making love to my camera or find another career.”

“Sorry?”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Ian roared. “Pretend I’m your boyfriend and you’re craving some attention.”

Ooh, that did it. Yelling had never worked with me, and unfiltered words projected out of my mouth like vomit. “Dude, I have a boyfriend, and he gives me plenty of attention. And just so we’re clear, I’m not your bitch, so get over yourself. Fame doesn’t give you the right to be a first-class prick. You. Chose. Me. Stop acting like a bully and tell me what to do without insulting me.”

“Give me a goddamn break.” Ian turned his back and reached for one of several bottles of water he kept on the table piled high with camera lenses and filters. He drained the liquid in a few gulps while I stared at his backside, which, I had to admit, filled his faded jeans rather nicely. The world-renowned photographer, who’d begged for a fresh face to represent Armani’s next spring collection, knew damn well what he was getting when he requested my presence. I never said I was experienced, and instead of treating me with compassion, he was being an utter jerk.

Ian hollered for Melinda, my agent, who appeared at his side within seconds. She and her husband, Dan, owned Elite Plus, the Chicago-based agency who’d first discovered me.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, rubbing Ian’s back gently.

“Do something with your boy or get me a replacement.”

Hell no. I gnawed at my lower lip, terrified by the prospect of being fired on my first day of work. Ian was the most famous photog in Manhattan, the best of the best, or so I’d been told, and he wasn’t too hard on the eyes if one was into silver foxes, which I wasn’t, but that was beside the point. Making a good impression was the right move if I hoped to conquer the fashion world, but so far, this meeting had been a disaster. Ian tossed the empty bottle into a recycling bin and continued to glare at Melinda.

“I’m aware you have a deadline,” she conceded softly, “but honestly, Ian, a little sugar would go a long way to make this easier on our collective nerves. You wouldn’t have asked for Chyna if you didn’t believe he had potential.”

“I don’t have time to babysit,” he snapped.

“No one’s asking you to feed and burp the guy,” Melinda argued. “Chyna’s a natural, but he doesn’t know you or what you’re hoping to achieve. You’d get a lot more cooperation if you encouraged rather than criticized.”

“My God, woman! Do you have any idea how long it’s been since anyone asked me to adjust my attitude? I’m not the one with a problem. It’s your brat who needs a swift kick in the ass.”

I could feel my anger—and humiliation—rising again. My hands curled into fists as I got ready to punch Ian’s lights out.

“You’re the one acting like a diva,” Melinda shot back. “Chyna’s a hard worker with a lot of potential star power. It’s up to you to unleash the magic, not snuff it out with your craptastic posturing.”

Ian’s mouth gaped. I wondered how long it would take security to escort us out of the studio, and I was surprised—honestly flabbergasted—when it didn’t happen.

“Okay,” Ian agreed, backing down. “I’m willing to give this another chance, but I want to see more sass and less pouting.”

Nodding, Melinda acknowledged his request with a curt “Got it.”

She covered the short distance between us in a few determined strides, and I braced for whatever was coming next. Mel was fired up, willing to go the extra mile to ensure my success, but the responsibility now rested squarely on my shoulders. If I didn’t live up to her hype, I might as well pack it up.

My family would probably be relieved if I walked away, but Mel’s reputation was on the line, and I owed her big-time. When I walked into Elite Plus four years ago, I’d been passing for female, due in part to being born intersex, but mainly because of my mother’s irrational desire to have a daughter. Against all medical advice, and despite my fully formed male genitalia, she’d been raising me as a girl. Mel had seen through the charade and gently coaxed me into becoming my authentic self. She was more than my agent—she was my mentor and best friend. I couldn’t let her down after she’d put her reputation on the line for me.

“What an asshole,” I muttered. “He’s obviously too full of himself to mentor anyone.”

“I won’t deny it,” Mel whispered, “but Ian’s very much in demand. You’re lucky to be here.”

“Seriously?”

“Hon, you’ll have to trust me on this.”

“Any suggestions?”

“Put some enthusiasm into your smiles,” she began, “and own your beauty.”

“Sorry, but it’s difficult when he acts like I’m a waste of time.”

Mel gave me the look she usually reserved for gossipy tidbits. “He’ll never admit it, but I know Ian finds you attractive, and that’s a big plus right there.”

“How can you tell?”

“His nostrils flared when we walked in.”

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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.

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Oct 30

Blog Tour: The Valet by S.J. Foxx (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Blog Tour, Giveaways

Title: The Valet

Author: S.J. Foxx

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: October 30, 2017

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 50300

Genre: Historical, 1920s, historical, jazz age, class difference, high society, england, aristocracy

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Synopsis

After scandalising his family name, wealthy brat Hugo is kicked out of his parent’s home in NYC, and tossed into the English countryside. There, he must live with his extended family and learn what it means to be a “gentleman,” or be cut off and left without his inheritance.

Brattish, reckless, and out of control, it seems that Hugo may never learn his manners. That is, until he meets his match: a stoic, no-nonsense valet, Sebastian.

Hugo and Sebastian are swept up in a forbidden fling, and they play a game of power.

Can Sebastian get a handle on his master? Or will Hugo’s foolishness leave him penniless?

Excerpt

The Valet
S.J. Foxx © 2017
All Rights Reserved

One: Mahogany & Silk

The day was like smudged charcoal, and the sky poured with rain that hammered against a bottle green car roaring over the hills. In the back of the automobile, Hugo Bentley slumped lower in his seat, vastly unimpressed by his welcome to England. He pulled his fedora down over his face and closed his eyes against the waterlogged scenery.

Everything in this country, so he had heard, was miserable. From the stiff upper lip and cold shoulder the British were renowned for, right down to their lifeless taste in fashion.

The young man had left behind the buzz of New York City, where jazz filled the streets and pretty girls in cocktail bars wore feathers in their hair. He’d spent his nights in smoky halls with a cigar between his lips and a deck of cards in his hands. There he’d thrived amongst glitzy lights of Times Square, with wind in his hair as he hummed down the streets in the back of a Revere.

Life had been late nights and side-splitting laughter, with the occasional bottle of moonshine to pass around his circle of young educated men.

Unfortunately, Hugo’s hedonistic existence had been discovered by his enraged parents but only after it had been discovered by the press. The twenty-year-old heir to a steel business had been found in bed with the wife of his father’s business partner. A simple tip off to the papers had led to the devastation of the Bentley family’s hard-earned good name.

Sickened by the very sight of him, his parents had sent Hugo packing. They’d shooed him to the English countryside, where he could redeem himself under the watchful gaze of his aunt and uncle, Ethel and Henry Harrington. With their help, Hugo could learn a thing or two about being a gentleman.

With the bleak green backdrop of the moors replacing the distractions of a big city, his parents had decided it was the perfect location to stop Hugo from getting himself into trouble. This was his opportunity to fix things. He either straightened up his act, or he’d be cut off. He just prayed the Harringtons weren’t too awful.

Exhausted from his week-long trip, the lull of the motor and the drifting of his thoughts sent Hugo to sleep.

When he next woke, the sky had darkened into an indigo blue and the rain had subsided into a haze that made the air thick with a sticky moisture. He pushed his fedora back onto his head and turned his heavy-lidded gaze outside. The stark silhouette of Finchley Hall loomed in the distance, behind wrought-iron gates.

It was surrounded by endless green lands and a patch of woods that stretched out as far as the next village. It was a foreboding home with ivy garlands creeping up the pristine white walls. A great marble balcony overlooked the driveway with cascading steps that led to the front door, polished and black with a silver knocker in the shape of a lion’s head.

Potted trees, groomed to precision, were lined up like guardsmen alongside the gravel path. Hugo groaned and turned away. These were the types of homes that the prissiest, insanely wealthy people owned. Aunt Ethel had married well. He was certain her husband was going to be insufferable.

The car weaved around the stunning marble fountain, the soft sigh of the falling water a sweet song that resonated in the surrounding silence. They followed the gravel path and the car began to slow, tyres crunched over the stones until they stopped outside what was to be Hugo’s home for the next year.

On the flagstone threshold, a welcoming party waited to greet him.

“Welcome to Finchley Hall, sir,” a plump silver-haired man with a jolly face said as he opened the car door. Behind him stood servants. There were valets, footmen, and maids alike, lined up shoulder to shoulder like an army platoon, straight-faced and pristine. Hugo could only assume this man was their butler. Their commander in chief.

“Thanks,” Hugo replied flatly. Removing his hat, he ruffled up his sandy-blond curls and clambered out of the car with the help of a gloved hand, then turned his chin to observe the band of servants with interest.

Their uniforms were extravagant. The men wore white bow ties and beautifully tailored black tailcoats, with gleaming brass buttons. The valets wore forest green waistcoats, and the taller footmen wore grey. The maids were attired in simple black dresses and white aprons with ruffled edges, their hair pinned back into neat, simple buns.

The Harrington family appeared at the door then. First was Aunt Ethel, a mirror image of his mother, with copper curls all swept up into an elegant bun. She was a little thing with ivory skin and soft green eyes like his own. Her thin mouth pulled taut when she looked at her nephew.

“Hugo,” she said stiffly, as if the word tasted sour. She folded her arms across her chest and wrinkled her nose.

Hugo turned to look at her and glowered. Turning the rim of his hat around in his hands, he gingerly approached the grand prison. “Ethel,” he grumbled, equally unimpressed.

“Show some courtesy, boy.” Ah, and there was Uncle Henry, barrelling through the door shortly after his wife—a robust man who enjoyed one too many sweets. He had a hardened, weather-beaten face like tanned leather. The trenches had been hard on him.

“You’ve disgraced your family and gotten yourself into a damn mess, Hugo. We’ve been kind enough to take you into our home and this is how you greet my wife?” he scoffed.

“Henry, not out here on the balcony,” Ethel snapped. “The servants are listening. What is the matter with you?”

Hugo’s fingers tightened around the rim of the hat, and he straightened his back, drawing his shoulders in against his neck. This was the man who was supposed to help him become a gentleman? Goodness.

“Apologies, Uncle, Aunt Ethel. It’s been a long trip. Tiredness has gotten the better of me,” he said and pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt rather like a chastised infant.

“I won’t hear any excuses, Hugo. If we are to do this for you, you will show us the respect we deserve, or we’ll send you straight back home and you can forget about your damn future.” Uncle Henry’s big hands were turning white as they tightened around the balcony frame.

“Henry,” Ethel hissed.

“I understand. I meant no offence, honestly,” Hugo said. It was hard to try to keep his tone even, to keep the venom out of it. What a ridiculous overreaction.

His uncle looked back at him blankly, his gaze roaming across his clothes until his face wrinkled into a frown. “Funny choice of attire, no?” he grumbled, raising a brow, trying to change the subject, no doubt. Perhaps he could feel the beady eyes of his wife burning into his temple.

Hugo tugged at the sleeve of his mustard tweed travelling coat, grateful for the new direction of conversation. “Fashion is very different in New York, Uncle.”

“I’ll say!” Henry said, looking down at the hat he clutched to his chest too.

From the corner of his eye, Hugo caught the flickering expression of a servant, whose forehead creased and brows knit together, puckering up his face as though he’d bitten into a lemon. He was eyeing up his mustard tweed too.

Hugo met his gaze and the slightest hint of a smile lifted the footman’s mouth before he looked away.

“Hugo!”

His curly-haired cousin came bounding out of the door and hurried down the steps to greet him in the courtyard. She opened up her arms and wrapped them tightly around his shoulders, squeezing. Scrambling to try to reach, she pushed herself onto her tiptoes and planted a quick kiss on both of his cheeks.

“Dear Arabella.” Hugo gave her his best smile, rather cheered by the contrast in greeting. He took her by the shoulders and leaned back to get a good look at her. The only Harrington he’d previously met, she’d visited America with her maid a couple of times in the past. “Goodness, you shot up! You were the size of a bunny when we last met.”

“I’m a woman now.” She preened, giving a little twirl. Her coral dress fanned out, circling around her.

“You are not a woman until you find a suitable man willing to marry you,” huffed Aunt Ethel, shaking her head.

“I’m only sixteen, Mama! I don’t need to find a husband yet.”

Ethel only sighed. “Now, let us not dilly-dally outside, talking nonsense. Hugo has had a long trip. Edward will carry up your things, Hugo, and once you feel rested, we will introduce you formally to everybody else. For now, you only need to know Edward. He’ll be your valet for the duration of your stay, and Thompson, he’s in charge of the household staff.” Ethel gestured to the jolly-faced man who had greeted him.

Hugo’s gaze flickered back to that tall man with the mischievous smile, but it was the shorter man beside him who nodded his greeting.

Inside Finchley Hall, it smelled of polished wood and the greasy duck that was cooking away in the oven downstairs.

Chandeliers drenched in crystals hung from the wooden buttresses, and beneath them, a beautiful Persian rug filled the hallway floor space.

The grand staircase was carpeted in plush red, complemented by the wrought-iron banister, fashioned into curling roses that spiralled alongside the stairs.

Edward scurried up the stairs. He had a shock of blond hair, a button nose, and the mannerisms of a mouse. Edward showed him to his room without speaking a single word other than goodbye.

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Meet the Author

SJ hails from a quaint, modest town in the north of England. However, for the past three years, she has been swept up in the whirlwind of London life, where people don’t make eye contact. Admittedly, she only moved here for the theatre.

A self-confessed geek; lover of the history, travelling and musicals. SJ loves to spend her weekends in museums, wandering around antique bookshops, or finding new, quirky places to explore. She feels blessed to be from a multi-cultural background, with an Irish mother and an African father.

Soppy as she is, you can be sure to find light-hearted, fluffy books from this author, with just a light sprinkle of feels.

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Oct 30

Release Blitz: Sweet William by Dianne Hartsock (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Sweet William

Author: Dianne Hartsock

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: October 30, 2017

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 15800

Genre: Historical, student, dub con/non con, historical, abduction, romance, gay

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Synopsis

William Wilkerson leads the life of the privileged rich. Head of his father’s shipping business, he indulges to his heart’s content in the pleasures of the flesh with Boston’s finest young men.

That is, until he reunites with Fredrick: his former tutor and the one man who captured his heart. But William’s father has declared Fredrick off limits. And Fredrick, himself, believes he’s beneath the attention of the Wilkerson heir.

After having lost his current pupil to graduation, and with no prospects of a replacement, Frederick is homeless, hungry, and easy pickings for the men on the docks. When Frederick is shanghaied into service on William’s own merchant ship, will William discover his plight in time to rescue him?

Excerpt

Sweet William
Dianne Hartsock © 2017
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One

Fredrick held up his glass and stared at the candle’s flame through the amber liquid. He took a sip and savored the rich, biting taste on his tongue, welcoming the burn down his throat. This was the very last drink he could afford, and he had to enjoy it.

A giggle erupted from someone out of sight on the back staircase, and a smile tugged his lips, despite the dire state of his wallet. The laugh had been carefree, joyous, naughty. Fredrick shifted on the cushioned bench. The lunch hour had passed, and he was the only customer in the dining room. He wondered if the innkeeper up front would notice if he adjusted his cramped cock as it throbbed in sympathy with the bright laughter that reminded him of his own ardent affair.

Rather than risk it, he watched the fruit vender outside the window beguile a customer. Another giggle and stifled moan floated down to him and he grinned, even though the laughter emphasized his own loneliness. It had been far too long since he’d had someone in his bed.

Fredrick looked up at the clatter of footsteps, distracted from his memory of lush lips, white skin, and wide hazel eyes. He caught a glimpse of red hair and an embarrassed cheek before the gentleman crammed a hat on his head.

“Damned Wilkerson,” the man muttered as he passed him, face averted.

With conscious effort, Fredrick loosened his hold on his glass, but he had no way to stop the wild hammering of his heart. Wilkerson? Could it really be…? Perhaps not, but the Wilkerson family he knew had strong ties to Boston. At least, the father often traveled there. But did William come now? He had to know. Before he lost his courage, he stood and swallowed the last of the brandy and then crossed the room to the staircase.

He shook his head at his eagerness. It had been three years, after all, and they’d parted in anger. Would William acknowledge him? A man stepped onto the landing and Fredrick allowed his gaze to travel up the white spats and checkered trousers. Blood heated his face when he found the silk vest and shirt open at the throat to expose soft white skin.

A sigh brought his gaze up to the attractive face that stirred his dreams. Rich brown curls surrounded lovely hazel eyes and full, pouting lips. Panic swept the pretty face, and then a delighted smile revealed the even white teeth that had nipped his collarbone on more than one glorious occasion.

“Freddie, is it you?”

He hasn’t forgotten! Fredrick stored away the joy to visit later. God knew his pleasures were few and far between these days. “How are you, William? I had no idea you came to Boston.”

“On occasion.” William stepped off the landing, only a slight sway in his lean body betraying his inebriation. Fredrick’s heart skipped. The top of William’s head barely reached his shoulders—perfect for Fredrick to rest his chin on if he gathered him close. To his surprise, William didn’t hesitate, clasping Fredrick in his arms and stretching for a light kiss. Fredrick’s hold tightened instinctively, but William didn’t seem to mind, winding his arms around Fredrick’s neck. He licked Fredrick’s lips, his sweet tongue seeking entrance.

Fredrick laughed, breathless with the need that swept him, but moved his head back, denying the kisses sure to topple the defenses he’d built against this man.

He chuckled wryly at William’s delicious pout. “You promised not to tease me.”

“That was years ago. I made no promises today.” William nibbled at Fredrick’s lips, but eased away when he resisted.

Fredrick glanced over his shoulder at the innkeeper watching them. “William, what are you about? Anyone could have seen you. This is dangerous—”

“It was only a few kisses, but perhaps you’re right.” A scowl darkened William’s face. “The proprietor is paid handsomely for his discretion, but it’s possible I’m growing careless.”

Distracted by William’s open shirt, Fredrick closed his hands into fists to resist the urge to embrace him again. Memories stirred of the slide of fabric under his fingers: images of cool sheets and creamy skin. He longed to run his tongue down the exposed flesh of William’s neck and revisit the delights he’d enjoyed, once upon a time.

“How is Lord Wilkerson these days?” he asked instead, throwing that barrier between them. A shutter seemed to close on William’s eyes, his gaze becoming less warm. In sudden panic, Fredrick touched his arm, afraid William would walk away. “Forgive me. This is hard for me.”

He trembled when William put a hand over his. “For me, as well, darling. I had no idea you lived in Boston.”

“Or you would have stayed away?” Fredrick regretted the jealous words the instant they left his lips and looked aside to hide the blush he knew reddened his face. He always played the fool with William.

“My father’s been ill for some time. I’ve taken control of the shipping portion of the estate and come to Boston from time to time to check the wares from the Orient. We managed without incident these past ten years, since eighteen seventy-four, but recently we’ve had an increase in damaged goods. My presence at the docks seems to deter clumsiness.”

“Of course.” Fredrick chewed his lips as he searched for something to say, his heart heavy.

“And what is my former teacher doing in this wild town?” William asked, his voice kind.

Fredrick shrugged, not about to tell him he’d run as far from William as he could when Lord Wilkerson had humiliated and dismissed him. “I’ve been tutoring Lord Anadaile’s daughter.”

“For truth? That must be hell on earth. A more spoiled child I’ve yet to meet.”

“She has a good heart, but this position is soon over, anyway. Miss Cynthia comes of age next month, with her debutant party in June. No need for me after that.”

A cough from the innkeeper at the far end of the room caught their attention. As if recalling his state of undress, William buttoned his shirt and did up his vest. Fredrick groaned inwardly as he remembered doing similar service for William after an afternoon spent undressing him.

William gave a brilliant smile as if sharing the memory and took Fredrick’s hand. “Will you have a drink with me at the club?”

Longing almost overcame discretion, but the barrier of their positions couldn’t be ignored, by either side. “Forgive me. I’m not dressed appropriately for your friends.”

William’s beautiful eyes widened as if seeing the frayed brown suit for the first time. Fredrick’s heart warmed. William had the fine trait of seeing a man behind his outward trappings. Rank held little interest for him. For an instant, the ugly thought that William could well afford the fine principle pricked him, but he knew it was his own poverty that prompted the emotion. William had a true heart.

He watched in fascination as a blush tinted William’s porcelain cheeks. William kept his gaze on their clasped hands, and his words started an ache in Fredrick’s chest. “Damn convention and society can go to hell. I’ve missed you, Freddie. I want to see you. Not at the club, and not here.” A flirtatious glance. “I wouldn’t want to bring scandal to my favorite tutor.”

“It’s better we don’t—”

“Probably.”

William leaned up and kissed Fredrick full on the mouth. A sweet tongue slid passed his lips to tangle with his, tasting and teasing. Caught unawares, Fredrick opened to him, drowned in memories of sultry afternoons, bodies entwined. William’s scent surrounded him, spiced with tobacco and whiskey and expensive cologne. Underneath, there was the heady fragrance of heated skin.

Fredrick groaned as lust swamped his defenses. His cock swelled to life for its lover, ached for the touch it had missed for far too many lonely nights. He returned William’s kiss with fervor, forgetting where they were, his position, everything but the need to taste again this man he loved with all his being.

William broke off their kiss and leaned against the wall, his chest heaving. They stared at one another and Fredrick bit hard on his lip. Dearest Lord! William stood before him, everything he desired in life, intelligent and beautiful. Mine! Fredrick’s heart broke, while agony twisted in his gut. He had nothing to offer the eldest son of one of New England’s finest families. He’d known that three years ago. Nothing had changed his circumstances.

William had always been able to read him, and he set his pretty lips in a firm line. “I’m in Boston through the week. I want to see you, Freddie. Please don’t be cruel. Meet me at the pier in two hours.”

“But—”

His protest went unheard. With a flash of anger in his eyes, William strode past him without another word.

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Meet the Author

Dianne is the author of paranormal/suspense, fantasy adventure, m/m romance, the occasional thriller, and anything else that comes to mind. She lives in the beautiful Willamette Valley of Oregon with her incredibly patient husband, who puts up with the endless hours she spends hunched over the keyboard letting her characters play. She says Oregon’s raindrops are the perfect setting in which to write. There’s something about being cooped up in the house with a fire crackling on the hearth and a cup of hot coffee warming her hands, which kindles her imagination.

Currently, Dianne works as a floral designer in a locally-owned gift shop. Which is the perfect job for her. When not writing, she can express herself through the rich colors and textures of flowers and foliage.

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Oct 27

Book Blitz: Psycho Romeo by Jocelynn Drake & Rinda Elliott (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Psycho Romeo

Series: Ward Security Series #1

Author: Jocelynn Drake & Rinda Elliott

Publisher: Drake and Elliott Publishing, LLC

Release Date: October 27, 2017

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 81K

Genre: Romance, Thriller/Suspense, Romantic Suspense, Gay Literature, Gay fiction, bodyguards

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Synopsis

Geoffrey Ralse is known for being the life of the party. He loves the club scene, hanging with his friends, and flirting with whomever catches his eye. He certainly isn’t going to stop living his life just because some would-be stalker starts sending him threats.

But it all changes when Geoffrey is drugged and wakes up half naked in his own home with a new message from his stalker.

He needs help and there’s only one person he trusts…

Protective Agent Sven Larsen has been fighting Geoffrey’s flirtatious advances for months, even though he’s impossibly drawn to the man. There’s no way he can be around him twenty-four/seven and not finally crack. But one look at Geoffrey’s haunted eyes, and he knows there’s no way he’s letting Geoffrey walk out of Ward Security without him.

Even if it means breaking his own rules, he will keep Geoffrey

Excerpt

Once again, Geoffrey had surprised him. That jump to his defense had been swift and hard. Sven watched anyone who came near them, but he also watched Geoffrey fume as he walked the wrong direction on Freedom Way. People strolled the sidewalks all around them. In the back of his mind, he stayed aware of the fact that they didn’t know for sure his stalker was a part of his group. It could be anyone.

Over a million followers on one site alone.

He shook his head and stayed close as he took in everything about their surroundings. Skyscrapers of downtown Cincinnati rose up behind them while the Great American Ballpark was on their left. There was the rush of traffic on nearly all sides, but Geoffrey appeared to be heading away from the biggest crowds of people and toward Ohio River rippling in the distance, winding between Ohio and Kentucky.

Sweat gathered on his back, under his arms, and at the back of his neck. Maybe it was time to cut the hair. He’d grown it in a challenge with his brothers—who could stand it the longest. His oldest brother still held out. But Sven could out-stubborn them all.

Mostly because he actually liked it. Low-maintenance hair—just needed a brush or something to keep it off his neck. Digging into his pocket, he found one of the thick hair ties he used and looped his hair into a messy knot at the back of his head. He glanced down to find Geoffrey watching his movements with fascination.

“I don’t know how you stand it. Mine drives me crazy when it gets past my ears.”

He eyed the light blond gelled hair brushed back off Geoffrey’s forehead. “It suits you.”

“Thanks.” Anger returned to his expression, tightening his lips and he stomped off again. He had his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans—probably to keep from throwing them about as he did when his emotions were high. And they were. It was obvious in his quick, hard steps, his tight expression, and the energy radiating from his body. Sven had never met someone with so much liveliness. So much fire. He’d often marveled over it during the classes at Ward, fascinated and drawn to all that brightness and vitality like Geoffrey had hooked him on a short fishing line.

He could hardly ever take his eyes off him.

And now that he’d seen the sexy, trim body under all those clothes, he was having trouble not watching for the flex of muscle underneath the slouchy blue T-shirt Geoffrey wore today. When he shrugged, it slipped off his shoulder and Sven wanted to lift him high, press his back into the nearest wall, and put his mouth on that tantalizing collarbone. Learn the taste and scent of his skin. And he wanted the laughter back. Amusement transformed him, making him all golden sunlight and joy. He’d throw his head back, revealing white teeth and when he let himself go like that, the trace of sadness he seemed to carry at all times disappeared.

Sven had the feeling Geoffrey’s loneliness ran deeper than his own, and he’d felt the ache of it for some time now. He didn’t enjoy bars or nightclubs and although he’d downloaded a hookup app onto his phone, he’d never seen anyone on it worth contacting. But he wasn’t one for anonymous sex, so he mostly went without. Hoping he’d eventually meet someone worth the effort it would take to build a real relationship.

His fierce attraction to Geoffrey made little sense. They couldn’t have been more opposite in personality, size, income bracket…pretty much everything.

Except for the loneliness.

Geoffrey had tons of people around him, yet none of them were true friends. Not any that he’d met today anyway. And every time his gaze had locked with Geoffrey’s, he’d seen something that had ripped the world right from under his feet.

Geoffrey knew. He was completely aware that they used him. For money, for notoriety, for another selfie on their social media accounts.

The absolute…fakeness of it all tightened his chest to the point of pain. Because he could see, in those blue eyes, that Geoffrey Ralse needed so much more.

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Drake and Elliott Publishing, LLC | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iTunes | Smashwords

Meet the Authors

Rinda Elliott
Rinda loves unusual stories and credits growing up in a family of curious life-lovers who moved all over the country. Books and movies full of fantasy, science fiction and romance kept them amused, especially in some of the stranger places.
For years, she tried to separate her darker side with her humorous and romantic one. She published short fiction, but things really started happening when she gave in and mixed it up. When not lost in fiction, she loves making wine, collecting music, gaming and spending time with her husband and two children.
She is the author of the Beri O’Dell urban fantasy series, the YA Sister of Fate Trilogy with Harlequin Teen, and the paranormal romance Brothers Bernaux Trilogy. She also writes erotic fiction as Dani Worth.
She can be found at RindaElliott.com and her Dani Worth blog . She’s represented by Miriam Kriss at the Irene Goodman Agency.

Jocelynn Drake
Love comes in many varied forms. There is the love of family, love of country, and love of chocolate. But for Jocelynn Drake, one truly treasured love is the love of a good story. This former Kentucky girl spends the majority of her time lost in the strong embrace of a good book.
When she’s not hammering away at her keyboard, frowning at her monitor, or curled up with a book, she can usually be found cuddling with her cat Demona, walking her dog Max, or flinging curses at the TV while playing a video game. Outside of books, cats, and video games, she is completely enamored of Bruce Wayne, Ezio Auditore, travel, tattoos, explosions, fast cars, and Anthony Bourdain (but only when he’s feeling really cranky).
She is the author of the urban fantasy series: The Dark Days series and the Asylum Tales. She also occasionally writes as Joy Douglass when she’s in the mood for a little historical romance. She can be found at JocelynnDrake.com.

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Oct 26

Book Blitz: How to Domesticate a Russian Bear by CB Conwy (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: How to Domesticate a Russian Bear

Series: A Russian Bear III

Author: CB Conwy

Publisher: Self-Published

Release Date: October 26, 2017

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 91,000

Genre: Romance, Erotica, ; MM, BDSM

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Synopsis

How to Domesticate a Russian bear
(A Russian Bear III)
CB Conwy

So, all Mischa really wanted was sex. Hot, kinky sex, and preferably lots of it.

But then he got a sub, and then the sub turned into a fiancé, and now apparently Mischa is supposed to settle down and be all domesticated. However, Mischa does not do tame.

Well, at least he didn’t use to. Now he’s beginning to think that yes, he does indeed do tame. Unfortunately, his sub doesn’t seem to get that.

Tom knew that Mischa was a handful. Hell, that’s basically what made Tom fall head over heals for him. But figuring out how to handle his postgraduate studies combined with a long-distance relationship is driving him nuts. And not in the great, Mischa-is-torturing-me-with-kinky-sex-toys way (even though that happens, too. A lot). More like in the this-is-killing-me-slowly-and-I-don’t-know-what-to-do-about-it way. Unfortunately, Mischa finds out and puts his foot down, and then suddenly Tom has some very hard choices to make.

Then there’s Mischa’s busybody bridezilla friend, karate practice with people who actually hit back, and the arrival of the inlaws. Because just what do you do with the finest privately owned dungeon in North America when your family turn up?

That’s when Tom realizes that domesticating a Russian bear may take more work than even he realized.

Warning: An unrepentantly grumpy Dom with an unrepentantly pain-loving sub, kink so hot that the reader will be in imminent danger of blushing, and two characters who do their very best to turn a perfectly nice romance into a porn movie every chance they get.

Excerpt

Tom was using all his willpower to keep his steps calm and measured as the cab drove off behind him; desperation was never a pretty sight, even though he most of all wanted to sprint up the driveway stretching in front of him.

Finally he stood in front of the door. He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, and reached up to knock at the door.

Before his hand made contact with the dark wood, the door was flung open and he was pulled into an embrace so tight that he couldn’t breathe. For a moment, he was shocked; then his brain registered the scent of Mischa, and Mischa’s arms around him, and he gave up on any pretense of being stoic and mature and simply clung, breathing in deeply and finally, finally indulging in the feeling of being back in Mischa’s arms.

He’d envisioned this meeting pretty much every single day since they’d parted. He’d pictured Mischa kissing him, Mischa having kinky plans that started right on the doorstep, Mischa bossing him around.

He hadn’t imagined this desperate clinging. Mischa held on so tightly that it felt like Mischa’s arms and Mischa’s body were his entire world.

He hadn’t imagined, either, the way Mischa was hiding his head against Tom’s shoulder, and he certainly hadn’t imagined the labored breaths that sounded suspiciously moist. Tom gently let one hand slide through Mischa’s dark hair, rubbing softly, comforting.

“Hey, hey,” he whispered. “It’s okay. We’re okay now.”

Then he realized why he was whispering and pulled a little harder on Mischa’s hair. “But you could consider letting me breathe sometime soon. It would probably be good for my health.”

Mischa mumbled something, and his arms loosened slightly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that?” Tom said, gently massaging Mischa’s neck.

Mischa finally lifted his head. His eyes were somewhat shiny, and Tom would bet that his shirt would be slightly damp where Mischa’s face had been. “I said, ‘you sarcastic little shit’.”

Tom barked out a laughter. “Jesus, Mischa, you’re such an asshole. I had completely forgotten…” But then Mischa’s lips were on his, and any coherent thought promptly left his head.

He had imagined this meeting over and over. How kinky it would be. How forceful Mischa would be. However, Tom couldn’t, not in any way, have imagined this kiss.

Mischa’s lips were soft, almost searching at the beginning, the tip of his tongue gliding gently over Tom’s lower lip. Then, when Tom eagerly opened up – it was Mischa! – he embraced Tom tightly and took his mouth so thoroughly that Tom could do nothing but surrender to the feeling of finally, finally being this close to Mischa again.

He might have made a needy sound. He did know that he wasn’t just clinging anymore, he was crawling up Mischa until his legs were around Mischa’s body and Mischa was holding him tightly. They were moving, he thought, but he was tasting Mischa, surrendering to his tongue, opening his mouth to let Mischa plunder it however Mischa wanted to take him.

Then they were sitting somewhere, on a couch, Tom thought, and Mischa pulled back slightly, gently holding Tom’s head in his hands. “I’ve missed you,” he said, his voice sounding slightly gruff.

“I’ve missed you, too. God, Mischa, what were we thinking with the whole ‘Tom’s got to settle in so Mischa can’t visit’ thing? That was really, really stupid!”

Mischa nodded sagely. “It was stupid. Very.” Then he bent forward and kissed Tom again. Their lips met, and their tongues slowly explored what they hadn’t had for so long: The intimacy of two bodies being close, two breaths mingling and getting heavier, then slowing down when one of them pulled back. Mischa gently kissed Tom’s forehead at one point, and Tom closed his eyes, suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling of being cherished like this. Then Mischa’s lips were on his again, gently teasing the tender flesh, and Tom shuddered as his body responded to the slight soreness of his bitten and overused lips. He briefly registered Mischa’s grin; then he was being lowered onto the couch, and finally they were lying next to each other, stretched out and able to let their hands rove as much as they wanted.

In the beginning it was light, almost like exploring someone you didn’t know for the first time. Then their bodies seemed to recognize the feeling of each other, and impatience took over. Mischa none too gently opened Tom’s pants, and then his hands were finally on Tom.

Tom gasped into their kiss, and he could sense Mischa’s breathing quickening as well as the grip on Tom’s dick tightening. Whimpering, Tom fumbled with the opening of Mischa’s slacks, determined to have Mischa right there with him. It seemed to take forever, maybe because Mischa’s lips never left his, but then he finally held Mischa’s cock in his hand.

Mischa rewarded him with a groan and a firm stroke all the way from the root of his dick to the tip, the precome making everything slick.

It was so easy after that. Their lips met where they breathed each other in, Tom whimpering every time Mischa rubbed the sensitive head of his dick, Mischa growling when Tom sped up, demanding that Mischa be right next to him in his pleasure.

It was impossible to say how long it lasted, but the wave came inexorably, pulling them with it and crashing over them, making Tom shout in pleasure and joy and Mischa groaning, sounding almost pained, his teeth deep in Tom’s shoulder as they came together.

***

“Did you actually bite me?” Tom’s voice was surprisingly mellow for someone asking that question. Mischa only grumbled and pulled him closer. He had managed to locate a blanket on the back of the couch, and now they were snug and warm and, most importantly, as close to each other as they could possibly get. He had no intention of moving for the foreseeable future.

Maybe forever, really. He stretched languidly, keeping a firm hold of Tom while doing so.

He felt more than heard the drowsy chuckle against his chest. “You’re not going to let me go any time soon, are you?” Tom didn’t sound terribly upset about that fact.

“I will if you keep up that racket,” Mischa muttered. God, he felt good. He had completely forgotten how it felt being like this, all fucked out with a sweet boy in his arms. He stubbornly ignored the fact that it had been a very long time since he had had any boy but Tom, and that he’d never really bothered to hold those boys, sweet or not. If being a badass Dom took a bit of self-delusion, he was all for it. Reputations had to be upheld, if only in your mind. He smirked.

“Are you making plans to take over the world again?” Tom raised his head and looked down at Mischa, expression half suspicious, half blissfully satisfied. He had a tuft of hair sticking up in front, and the general impression was one of a mussed and very happy man. Thoroughly mauled, in other words.

Okay, not as thoroughly mauled as he would be later, but still, Mischa considered it a job very well done.

“You are, aren’t you? You’re not listening at all.”

“I most certainly am making plans,” Mischa answered haughtily. Or, well, he aimed for haughty. His yawn might have ruined the impression somewhat.

At least it must have to Tom. He got this soft expression on his face, reaching down and gently moving a lock of Mischa’s hair away from his forehead.

“What do you say we postpone the ‘hanging Tom from the ceiling and torturing him’ scene and spend the evening on the couch? We could get some take-out.”

“I don’t hang you from the ceiling,” Mischa said, letting his hand slide lightly over Tom’s side.

“No, because you think that ropes are boring. Hey, should I worry about the fact that neither of us are protesting the torture part?”

“No, because I’m very good at torturing you,” Mischa said. In his opinion, a pretty good comeback. Unfortunately, his stomach chose that moment to make known that he had only had two bites of a decidedly sad airplane sandwich since this morning, and rumbled loudly.

“That settles it. There’s no way I’m having you starve to death before you torture me. After, sure, but I’ve been looking forward to this weekend for ages. Besides, bodies would be really hard to hide in this neighborhood.”

Mischa did try to smack his butt, but Tom was surprisingly quick for somebody being all mellowed out from sex. Or maybe Mischa didn’t try too hard.

Which was fully rewarded for the rest of the evening. They put on a film that they watched pretty much nothing of, stuffed themselves with Chinese food, and did something that was questionably close to snuggling for Mischa’s taste. Just to make up for it, he did make Tom scream before they went to bed. That boy really liked a blowjob.

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Meet the Author

Doing relatively sane and responsible things during the day, I’m always looking forward to coming home to see what my characters have been up to. It’s only very rarely what I want them to do, but there you go. I have no problems whatsoever reading both Flaubert and smut (although not at the same time), and the only thing I like more than chocolate is a good comfort read.

To me, the best thing about writing is the rush; it’s almost a physical high when you’re writing and it’s going well. As for the worst part: Nobody ever told me that fictional characters do exactly as they please! All that talk about ‘the author’s intention’? This author is running around, desperately trying to figure out what my heroes want to do and then coaxing everybody into something vaguely resembling a consistent plot. Sigh.

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Oct 23

Release Blitz: Testing the Limits by Tamryn Eradani (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Testing the Limits

Series: Daniel and Ryan, Book 9

Author: Tamryn Eradani

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: October 23, 2017

Heat Level: 5 – Erotica

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 11100

Genre: Contemporary, BDSM, contemporary, established relationship, businessmen

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Synopsis

Daniel and Ryan take their relationship to the next level, trying new things in scene and clarifying what they mean to each other.

Excerpt

Mark: Haven’t seen you at the club in a while. Is work keeping you busy?

It’s a check-in and an inquiry rolled into one. Mark’s looking for personal answers while knowing he and Daniel aren’t…personal. Daniel’s been absent from the club for a long time, even for him, and knowing Mark, this is both a genuine question and a subtle feeling-out to see if Daniel’s still open to scening.

Mark’s always been good at giving Daniel space without it seeming like coddling. Mark knows who Daniel is and what he’s like, and he tries to meet him where Daniel’s most comfortable. Gavin never did. Gavin was Gavin, and it meant Daniel always knew what he was in for when he scened with him, but it also meant Daniel had to be in the right headspace. Gavin didn’t adapt.

Mark’s more flexible—too flexible sometimes. Daniel likes having someone to push against. He likes when they push back.

Ryan pushes back in the best of the ways. He pushes Daniel right up to his limits and, if Daniel wants, he pushes past them. There are some hard limits Daniel has but there are others which are only limits because he’s afraid to test them on his own or with a partner he doesn’t completely trust. With Ryan, Daniel’s learned how his body is capable of more things than he thought.

The message is still waiting for Daniel when he opens his phone.

It would be easy to send back a simple yes or maybe a more in-depth big project—performance reviews coming up. Mark would accept either of those. And he’d read into what Daniel didn’t say—I’ll be back when work’s quieted down.

Easy but disingenuous. Daniel doesn’t expect to be at the club any time soon. He hopes not to be. It’s not like Mark can’t find other partners to scene with; he’s easygoing and perceptive, and Daniel knows he was seeing at least two others while also seeing him. Different people for different things. Different people for different schedules.

Maybe he should send back exclusive arrangement at the moment. It has the benefit of being true, and it leaves the door open for the future.

Again, there’s a touch of not-right in this answer. Because he doesn’t want this relationship with Ryan to end? Because it’s strange to plan for the end of a relationship while in one? Because he doesn’t know where he and Ryan stand?

Daniel’s been with partners before who preferred monogamy, but it’s been for a variety of reasons. Some liked the feeling that they were the only one—possession sometimes, emotional attachment others. Some liked that it meant sex was safer—only one partner, regular testing, everything clean, no surprises. Some liked the implication that they were the only person their partner needed. Daniel’s never identified with the last one.

Different people for different schedules.

Different people for different needs.

Ryan’s the first person Daniel’s been with whom he could be happily, long-term monogamous with.

He’s just not sure if Ryan feels the same way.

Daniel leaves the message unanswered, because he doesn’t know how to answer it.

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Meet the Author

Tamryn studied English and Creative Writing in school but has been writing since she could first hold a pencil. Recently, she’s turned her focus towards writing erotica. She enjoys writing stories where sex comes first, then feelings, because doing things out of order can be fun.

Tamryn has spent the past few months writing the Daniel and Ryan series with a lovely view of mountains out her window, and she’s now searching for a new mountain range to serve as her backdrop as she begins her next project.

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Oct 23

Release Blitz: NineStar Press Halloween Series (Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Get in the holiday spirit with the Halloween collection of stories from NineStar Press

Releasing between October 9th and October 23rd, don’t miss a single one!

Available October 23rd

Synopsis

It’s been twenty years since the quiet Midwestern town of Lakeview was struck by tragedy. But every year on the anniversary of the event Teddy returns home for ‘The Reunion’. Lakeview, like Teddy, has secrets and not all mysteries should come to light.

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Synopsis

The path to true love is never easy, especially when you are on opposite sides of the world’s greatest theological debate.

It’s Halloween, and the Demon of Masturbation—Dom, for short—has come to Earth to collect sins and souls for his boss. But a representative from the Interfering Angel Network—Ian—has been sent to put a crimp in his plans. Frankly, though, the two seem less interested in sins and souls than in the three bottles of tequila they down during the night. Alcohol can lower the inhibitions, but it also impacts judgment, and Dom and Ian soon find themselves in the world’s most awkward threesome with a young mortal virgin.

Forget battling for his soul—their real passion seems to be for each other. But Halloween night is waning fast, and the veil between the worlds is only lifted for one night. How can two beings from opposite sides come together when they know they are destined to forever be apart?

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Synopsis

It’s Halloween time in Hawai’i and of course Gabe Maxfield is in business. Gabe owes lu’au owner Hiapo a favor (read Tiki Torches and Treasure to find out why!) so when weird things start happening at his lu’au, strange enough to frighten off his hula dancers, he comes to Gabe for help. Skeptical as always, Gabe steps into a creepy mystery where things are going missing or getting moved around and people are disappearing left and right. Can he solve the mystery before everyone he knows falls prey to the woods?

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Synopsis

Kicked out of private school, Allen has to brave a public high school where most of the kids don’t know supernatural creatures exist. He expects to be miserable, but he finds himself romantically pursued by two people: a shy, but fascinating boy named Jeremy and a spunky girl named Chloe. The demon in Allen wants to feed off Chloe, but the human part of him is falling for Jeremy. Which will win?

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Oct 16

Blog Tour: Into the Mystic, Volume 2 by Elna Holst, Valentine Wheeler, A. Fae, Sita Bethel, CC Bridges, Laura Bailo, Jacqueline Rohrbach, MK Hardy, Lina Langley, TS Porter (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Blog Tour, Giveaways

Title: Into the Mystic, Volume 2

Author: Elna Holst, Valentine Wheeler, A. Fae, Sita Bethel, CC Bridges, Laura Bailo, Jacqueline Rohrbach, MK Hardy, Lina Langley, TS Porter

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: October 16, 2017

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 94100

Genre: Paranormal, lesbian, bisexual, romance, short stories, selkies, werewolves, wicthes,

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Synopsis

Ten lesbian/bisexual paranormal short stories…

Green Love – Have you heard about the aspen clone in the heart of Blackwood forest? Some say it’s enchanted, while others…

Dead Letter – Signed, sealed, delivered…or was it?

Seaside Escape – Just because it’s been done for generations doesn’t mean it should be.

Dressed in Wolf Skin – She was never particularly fond of werewolves, but she hated skinwalkers.

Unraveled – Summer can hack their magic, but she can’t hack her own heart.

The Holy Company – On an ancient holy path, they will come face to face with one of the local legends.

Vampire Hours – One’s a vampire. The other is human. One wants forever. The other wants everything to end.

To the Sea – Sometimes you just have to hold your breath and dive in.

Holy Water – She might be the most dangerous being in the world, but Clara is still in love with her.

Lighthouse Five – Is it possible for a mermaid and a human to build a relationship?

Blurbs

Green Love

Elise, a serious-minded environmentalist, hikes into the forbidding forest of Blackwood to find the clonal colony of aspen said to exist at its centre. Her journey is as much a struggle to break free of the overprotectiveness of her older sister and make peace with the loss of their parents as it is a mission to save the woods from the threat of deforestation. Once arrived at the aspen grove, she seems to have stumbled across more than she bargained for. Is someone, or something, out to get her? Will she make it out of Blackwood alive?

Dead Letter

Rosie’s new job as a letter carrier is much harder than she expected. The discovery of a haunted letter box certainly doesn’t make it any easier. For years, Olive has been waiting for the right person to talk to, and it seems Rosie might just be the one.

Seaside Escape

Helping men acquire wives from an ocean of beautiful selkie is a generational thing with Fiona. It’s part of being a witch. Until the day Kinley swims into her world and turns everything she ever knew on its fin. Through Kinley and her selkie sisters, Fiona finds love, a new outlook on her life, and a chance to rectify her past.

Dressed in Wolf Skin

A werewolf with no pack is in danger of becoming the most powerful addition to a skinwalker’s wardrobe. She’s rescued by a witch who lives alone in the desert. Although both are stubborn and independent, they develop feeling for each other while the witch nurses the werewolf back to health. However, the skinwalker still wants his trophy and will do anything to claim it.

Unraveled

Unlike other witches, Summer doesn’t make her own spells. A former foster kid, she learned not to waste anything. She hacks old enchanted items and sells them as good luck charms to poor college students. Her one mistake is in giving a powerful charm to her crush, Imogen, a brilliant biology grad student. That gets Summer noticed by another witch on campus, Imogen’s science professor. Now she must either give in to the professor’s blackmail or risk her wrath. Either way, Imogen’s life hangs in the balance.

The Holy Company

Sophie curses the day she said yes to Anna’s idea of walking Saint James’s Way in Spain. She’s exhausted, and she doesn’t think she can keep her feelings for her a secret for much longer. But a day of rest soon turns into a nightmare when they come face-to-face with one of the local legends, and Sophie’s secret is no longer safe.

Vampire Hours

Janna and Stacy disagree on a lot of things but not on how much they love each other. Realizing that bond isn’t enough, Janna turns Stacy into a vampire, hoping she can be convinced that life is a quirky trip best taken together.

To the Sea

While working with a beach clean-up crew in the aftermath of an oil slick, Kay meets Rose. A reserved and melancholy soul, Kay is utterly enchanted by Rose’s energy and optimism. But everybody has their secrets, even Rose. As the two grow closer, will Kay accept and understand Rose for who she is?

Holy Water

On her eighteen birthday, Clara comes face to face with the spirit that has been calling to her, the one that everyone in her pueblo is afraid of. Despite warnings to stay away from her, the spirit is all that Clara can think about. Soon, she finds herself in an impossible position: stay away from the woman she loves for her own well-being or help her despite the immeasurable risk to her own life.

Lighthouse Five

Chris is happy living a solitary life on her tiny lighthouse island. When she discovers a stranded mermaid named Jewels, and carries her get back to the water, it marks the beginning of a strange new friendship. As they bond over sharing bits of their cultures and finding out their similarities and differences, Chris begins ask herself—how close can a human and a merperson get?

Green Love by Elna Holst

Excerpt

The moss underfoot was soft enough for sleeping on, but also too squishy for the pegs to be securely fastened. Elise’s tent keeled considerably, the roof dipping as the back of a worn-out horse. And, of course, there was the damp. She unfolded the second flooring sheet, the one the sales clerk at the outdoors supply store had sworn by all that was holy would keep her as dry as tinder. The man was obviously a blasphemer. But then, in all fairness, the tinder in the outside pocket of her knapsack was anything but dry.

It would work. It would have to work. It couldn’t keep raining forever.

Undoing the slippery-wet knots on her boots with some difficulty, Elise left them to fend for themselves under the flysheet and pulled her knapsack after her into the inner tent. It was cottony and a yellowish orange, like the one favoured by Buddhist monks. She had thought this would bring her peace. Heat. Resilience.

And it would, Elise decided. Just not tonight. She rolled out her mat and unfurled her sleeping bag from its compressible sack. This ritual had always left her flabbergasted as a child—she couldn’t figure out how all that abundant fluffy goodness, which held the promise of a toasty night to come, could be contained in such a diminutive carrier. Her father, the magician, had flaunted his tricks to the appreciative audience of his two giggling daughters. Or she had been giggling. Betsy, it occurred to her, in hindsight, had mostly looked grim. She hated camping. She hated the discomfort of it, the challenge. She abhorred the midges, the prickliness and sliminess—all the threatening aspects of the natural world. And the damp, certainly.

In her current state of wretchedness, Elise couldn’t fault her sister there. The damp was enough to make anyone miserable. Even so, as she peeled off her jacket and windbreakers, and pulled down the zip of her alluring bag, Elise felt a childish rush of unbridled joy at the prospect before her. “Creature comforts,” their father’s voice echoed back from the past. “You need to be out here to appreciate them fully.”

Didn’t you just. She slipped her aching body between the folds, zipping her sleeping bag all the way up again. Rain pattered against the flysheet. The wind soughed through the trees outside.

“Listen,” her father teased. “They’re whispering their secrets to you.”

“What’s that?” little Elise asked breathlessly. Little Betsy groaned and turned on her mat.

“Now, if I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret, would it?”

Elise frowned. Two years older, Betsy had, of course, heard it all before.

Fifteen odd years later, in her one-woman tent in the woods, shielded from the civilized world by sheets upon sheets of rain, a tear escaped down Elise’s mud-streaked cheek. She could do with a wash. Tomorrow.

“This one’s for you, Dad,” she murmured into the dark and flipped the switch of her torch. “Wherever you are.”

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bisexual, Lesbian, Romance, selkies, short stories, Werewolves, wicthes
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Oct 16

Release Blitz: NineStar Press Halloween Series (Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Get in the holiday spirit with the Halloween collection of stories from NineStar Press

Releasing between October 9th and October 23rd, don’t miss a single one!

Available October 16th

Synopsis

Danton is a 1200-year old vampire, blinded by the Medieval Church, who makes his life as a paranormal romance novelist. He writes about a vampire detective and “pretends” to his fans to be a vampire himself. But book sales are down because he has been without love for over 30 years and just doesn’t have that spark of romance left in him. Until he meets Kevin, a disbelieving young man, desperate for a job, who is brought in by Danton’s agent to try to lighten up his life and heat up his prose.

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Available October 16th

Synopsis

Drew hates labels, but loves Halloween and he wants a trick-or-treat of his own. At his mother’s to deliver emergency candy, she has him get the door in his gender-bending costume. The handsome man with the little trick-or-treater would be Drew’s perfect treat.

David’s attraction to Drew is no trick. He wants the whole Drew, in all his unlabeled glory, making Drew think this could be a treat that lasts long past the holiday.