New Release Blitz ~ Honor by January Bain (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Honor by January Bain

Book 3 in the Sin City Wolf series

Word Count: 66,315
Book Length: NOVEL
Pages: 255

Genres:

BILLIONAIRE
EROTIC ROMANCE
PARANORMAL
THRILLERS AND SUSPENSE
WERESHIFTERS

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Book Description

Never run from a wolf!

Isadora Champagne is a witch on a dangerous mission—to take down Lucius Luceres. That bad boy alpha billionaire doesn’t deserve to have it all his way. Thinks he can dump her baby sister and get away with it! But now that she’s met the shifter, keeping her heart safe from him is going to take more than the curse she laid on him…it just might cost her a pact with the devil himself.

Lucius of the House of Luceres is an alpha werewolf, secure in his bad-to-the-bone reputation. But when confronted by the beautiful Isadora one fateful night, even he can’t ignore the extreme attraction that instantly ignites between them. But what he hadn’t counted on was how useful her magic gifts can be to the House of Luceres when one of their own goes missing.

Will he be able to set aside the centuries of mistrust between witches and shifters and allow her special brand of courage and caring to heal even the most jaded heart?

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of mild violence, fated mates and references to inadequate parenting.

Excerpt

Lucius

“Look! There’s a halo around the moon tonight, Lucius. You know what that means?” Veronica purred. Her mouth was coated in far too much red lipstick for my liking, though I more than appreciated her luscious body and adventurous spirit.

“What do you think it means?” I asked, not particularly interested in her take on it. I couldn’t imagine the notorious party girl having done much digging into mythology or history.

If I wanted facts, my twin brothers, Maximus and Alexandro, would be the ones I’d call on. One of the things I did like about Veronica’s type though—easy to forget. I didn’t need any complications as enforcer for the House of Luceres beyond those necessary to protect my pack.

“It means something momentous is on its way. Could be good. Or evil. It depends on the intentions of the spirit.” Veronica shivered for effect in a dress that barely covered essentials. She looked up at me, her eyes huge, reflecting not only the light of the roaring bonfire kept alight for the entirety of the Lupercalia festival, but I swear I caught a glimpse of myself.

Easy to look at, I’ve been told. Like all my pack brothers, I kept my GQ looks highlighted with exercise and good grooming. And all the Luceres were blessed with good genetics and lots of money.

The howling of a lone wolf in the distance cut short the woman’s unexpected announcement and I went on high alert. In the desert, on a clear night such as this, sound was deceptive. The interloper could be miles away…or nearby.

I glanced around the firepit, checking out the pack members milling about. Emily, one of the cousins, was dancing with wild abandon. I frowned. Wasn’t she a bit young for this? The festival was notorious for events that would curl a human’s hair. Rumors abounded and things that probably should not happen…happened.

Case in point, headed right toward me was a former one-night stand, her finger pointed at me like she had something to say. Something I was certain I would prefer not to hear. What was her name again? Serena, Simona, Sawyer…

Before it came to me, she was right up in my face. “Lucius Luceres, I got some…thing to say to you you’re not go…ing to like.” She poked at me with a sharp red fingernail, her words slurring and her body language suggesting something vastly different.

“Step back, if you know what’s good for you, cur!” Veronica yelled at her.

“What you go…ing to do about it?”

Right, Simone, one of the more jealous ones. Why was one night never enough for them? Not like I ever promised anything more. I stepped back. Let them have at it. A gorgeous female standing farther from the fire winked at me, her eyes taking in the foolish provocation with obvious interest. I gave her my patented cool-billionaire smile.

She replied with an air kiss, pulling me forward with all the magnetic pull of true north. Just the way I liked it. And man, those curves, highlighted in a tight dress that leaves nothing to the imagination.

“Hey, where are you going?” Veronica quickly noticed my mental desertion…soon to be followed by a physical one.

I turned back and sighed. The two women had each other by the hair. Soon they’d shift, by the look of things. I didn’t want the hassle, but after all, I had caused it, even though they’d both been warned that I never dated.

“Come on, ladies, the festival is almost over. Wouldn’t you rather be having fun than fighting?”

“This is fun! I’m going to beat her ass!” And with that Veronica shed her clothes and shifted, one second vanishing through the otherworldly portal in a shimmer of light, and in the next back again as a blue-eyed gray wolf. It had been explained to me by my scholarly brothers that the dimension was only one of the eleven that create the multiverse. Whatever. I was just satisfied it worked.

I mean, who doesn’t want to be wolf?

One second later, Simone followed Veronica, her leaner and meaner wolf appearing in a flash of light. Of course, she was the more perturbed of the two, giving her the edge. The pair squared off. Simone growled as she lowered her head to bully her opponent, the thick ruff on her spine fully erect.

Instantly, others picked up on the change of energy. Bodies began streaming in from everywhere, surrounding the two females in mere seconds. This was what the pack wanted. Craved. The music shifted, became a louder drumbeat that stirred the blood.

I gave a nonchalant shrug to the gorgeous female on the sidelines watching the antics as if to say, What can I do? Females will be females. She rolled her eyes.

Turning back to the action, I decided not to intervene in the fight, not unless they began to inflict real damage. These kinds of fights could be more about posturing than anything else, useful for ratcheting down minor disagreements and aggressions. Which was why this festival was held in the first place. It allowed pack members time to listen to their wolf, step away from the imposing limits of civilization. Freedom, baby.

But I had apparently misjudged the level of anger and animosity between the pair. Claws and fur flying, they lunged at each other, rolling in the desert sand and sending a blanket of dust into the air.

The crowd roared their approval. Someone had appointed themselves the holder of the bets and numbers were being tossed around the ring like confetti. Eager faces, alight with the excitement I’d imagine rather common to the Colosseum of ancient days, began to holler loudly for their favorite. Seemed that Simone was holding sway, her anger the most apparent to the catcalling crew. Hell, half of them were half undressed now, probably looking to take a turn.

Great, a bloom of blood had appeared on Veronica’s fur. Now I had to shift. Not really a bad thing, as I loved to be wolf. The power, the freedom, the pure sense of being removed from this world—it didn’t get any better.

I shucked my clothing, knowing I was being checked out by the new female. Have at it. I’m choice. I jumped into the fray and in seconds, had Veronica by the scruff of the neck, subjecting her to dominance, forcing her to give over to her alpha. She whined, then lay down. Simone stood on four stiffened paws, her tongue lolling, still defying me.

I flew at her, catching her by the throat, taking her down to the ground. Not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to inflict some pain. She needed to learn her place.

When she gave me proper respect, I let her slink away, then dusted myself off and redressed. The interested female was still watching, and I nodded at her. She sauntered over, her spectacular hips swaying to the rhythmic beat of the snare drum one of the pack members was pounding on, her smile coy.

The crowd clapped and stamped their feet loudly, naked breasts bouncing to the delight of the males who watched with approval, obviously having enjoyed the show. Money was paid out to the victors and backs were slapped. Just another night at the Lupercalia. And mild compared to some events I won’t get into.

“Nice moves,” she said, getting closer enough to pick an imaginary piece of lint from my jacket.

“I aim to please.”

“I take it you’re not worried that a rare witch moon is causing chaos this night?” The new female pointed at the night sky. A dark cloud was now creeping across the luminous surface, lending an even more eerie appearance to proceedings.

Witch moon? Where did you hear that?” A cold finger traced my spine. I shook the odd sensation off. An old wives’ tale.

“Big strong wolf like you—you have nothing to fear.”

Never trust a witch.

The warning from an elderly Italian relative came to mind. Well, not like I had any in my pack or knew of any in my round of acquaintances. And I certainly wouldn’t bed one. Now, the wolf throwing herself at me at the moment, sure.

I’m partial to blondes and easy tail…

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About the Author

January Bain

January Bain has wished on every falling star, every blown-out birthday candle and every coin thrown in a fountain to be a storyteller. To share the tales of high adventure, mysteries, and full-blown thrillers she has dreamed of all her life. The story you now have in your hands is the compilation of a lot of things manifesting itself for this special series. Hundreds of hours spent researching the unusual and the mundane have come together to create a series that features strong women who don’t take life too seriously, wild adventures full of twists and unforeseen turns, and hot complicated men who aren’t afraid to take risks. She can only hope the stories of her beloved Brass Ringers will capture your imagination as much as they did hers when she wrote them.

If you are looking for January Bain, you can find her hard at work every morning without fail in her office with two furry babies trying to prove who does a better job of guarding the doorway. And, of course, she’s married to the most romantic man! Who once famously replied to her inquiry about buying fresh flowers for their home every week, “Give me one good reason why not?” Leaving her speechless and knocking her head against the proverbial wall for being so darn foolish. She loves flowers.

If you wish to connect in the virtual world, she is easily found on Facebook, Twitter and writes a weekly blog about her journey on Blogger. Oh, and she loves to talk books…

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New Release Blitz: Getting Off by J.R. Hart (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Getting Off

Author: J.R. Hart

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 02/08/2022

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 69300

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, romance, contemporary, new adult, family-drama, gay, bisexual, demisexual, questioning, college, sports team

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Description

JJ is certain he’s got everything figured out. He’s straight, right? He’s just not into the hookup culture prevalent on his college soccer team. But he’s trying to hide that to avoid getting on his team captain’s bad side.

Kade is anything but straight. Out and proud, he’s curious about how the “other half” lives… even as his best friends remind him there’s more to the LGBTQ+ community than just the “G.” Curious, Kade texts JJ a simple question: do straight guys ever get off together?

When JJ’s reply leads to a head-spinning sexual spark, he starts questioning everything he knows about his sexuality, both in terms of who he’s attracted to, and also why hookups have never been his thing. But when JJ endures trauma that confuses him more, he starts pushing Kade away. Kade has to learn how to be a supportive friend, and more than that, a supportive partner, or risk losing JJ altogether. And JJ? He has to fight for his team to be team players, even when they suspect he’s “playing for the other team.”

Excerpt

Getting Off
J.R. Hart © 2022
All Rights Reserved

Kade
I want to believe JJ when he tells me straight guys get off together. And I have no reason not to believe him. But still, the whole situation feels strange to me. Straight guys? Getting off together? Blame it on boredom, blame it on my complete willingness to run into a situation headfirst without knowing what I’m getting myself into, but I plan on going.

Because I want so badly to believe. I don’t know why, other than I’m just so damn curious about the whole situation. Call it anthropological. Or call it my intense need to believe some form of porn is actually true. Hell, blame it on an ill-fated crush on a straight jock I’d never have a chance with.

I’ve still got a seed of doubt.

I mean, the whole question came from a questionable situation in the first place: a hookup with someone who says he’s straight. That isn’t uncommon on hookup apps, the kind of guys who say, “It’s not gay to top,” while actively trying to get in a gay guy’s pants, but I don’t have time to unpack all their internalized homophobia or whatever. I’m not going to sit someone down and tell him, “Hey, bro, maybe you’re not straight if the person you’re topping is also a guy.” But my point stands. I had a hookup, he said he was straight, and he mentioned some offhand comment about how straight guys watch porn together.

Which, whatever. I brushed that off at the time. But now it’s been eating at me and worming its way through the back of my mind, and I’ve got two major questions about what he said.

One, how many of his friends are actually straight versus straight in the way he’s straight, and therefore what they’re doing would be an objectively non-straight activity?

And two, is there a chance there are straight guys in the world who watch porn together? Because I believe there are guys who share porn recommendations. I believe guys tell each other that such-and-such girl in such-and-such video is hot and they should check it out. Recommendations, I find entirely plausible. Watch parties? Not so much.

I’d ask my friends, but let’s be real. None of my friends are straight. A lone gay best friend in a pack of straights is the kind of Hollywood wildness that doesn’t seem to happen in real life. You watch movies, or read books, and you’ll see this one gay best friend in a group of a bunch of straight people and I sit there and think, Where’s the actual representation here? Gays clump together. We can’t help it. So, my friend group? Not a good starting point for finding out what The Straights do in their free time.

I have exactly one straight friend I can ask, outside of my roommate, and I’ve never seen my roommate invite anyone over for any reason, let alone to watch porn with them. Which narrows it down to the one straight friend: JJ. And I feel like I can trust JJ, trust what he’s saying is true, but there’s this part of me doubting the whole thing. I can’t picture the scene: a group of guys, watching porn, hands on their dicks…the whole concept is wild to me. From a sociological perspective, I’m absolutely fascinated.

And maybe I’m just being jerked around by my hookup. If I am, this is good information to have. If he’s lying, okay, maybe it won’t necessarily change my behavior, but it’ll make me feel the tiniest bit more satisfied if I know he was lying all along. And now that I’ve reached out to JJ I’m obsessed with the idea.

The thought of men actually doing this? Come on, that’s just the sort of bad porno aesthetic I’m into. It ranks right up there with, “let’s play strip pool before my mom gets home,” or, “I was out jogging in the woods and this hot guy just happened to catch up with me and offer me a bottle of water, and also his dick.” It makes me wonder, what will happen next? The muscular jock sucks the twink off? I’ve seen it a million times, just not in real life, and never with straight guys who would probably never even touch each other. Still, I want to witness it firsthand, or something. I’m craving confirmation.

Which is why I asked JJ. Because I can trust him, because he’s straight, and because he’s disposable. Which sounds really shitty but hear me out. JJ and I aren’t close. I mean, we’re close in that he hosts a good study group, and it’s nice to have a friend in class, but I don’t know him know him. We aren’t BFFs or anything. If this situation were to go horribly wrong, get super awkward, and he felt bad or weird about it after—not that I think anything is going to happen, but I’m not ruling out the possibility—then we don’t have to talk to each other anymore.

Plus, he lives in my building, and I am a slut for convenience. He’s right here, two floors down, and anyway, he’s hot. I mean, abs for days, long limbs, soccer body… I’m not into sports, but they’d almost be worth watching for the way the players strip their jerseys off after a game, mop the sweat off their brow…fuck. If I’m going to watch this kind of scene—from a purely sociological standpoint, mind you—it helps if the guys involved are, you know, aesthetically appealing.

And I can’t ask a stranger. How would I know if a stranger was bullshitting me? And JJ’s not bullshitting me. I don’t think so, anyway. JJ just gives off one of those vibes. Like, trustworthy. Honest. The kind of guy who tells the truth about everything. He doesn’t seem like someone who would fuck with me, you know? And he’s a throwaway. If he got offended by me asking, well, then I haven’t lost a whole lot. He’s a no-lose option. And besides, he didn’t say no. That gives me the confirmation I need: two straight guys—or rather, one straight guy and one guy who claims he’s straight but is on an app designed for gay hookups—have confirmed this for me now. Apparently, straight guys do jerk off together. And apparently, I’m going to get to witness it firsthand. I can’t say I’m not excited.

But confirmation, the words alone, aren’t enough. Not when he’s already offered to let me witness this ridiculous, beautiful event for myself. And I want to. I want to see it so bad. I’m not expecting personal gratification because these are straight guys and straight guys probably watch straight porn, and I also know to keep my hands to myself. But I’m there for sociological reasons. Or, anthropological ones, maybe. But I know JJ from sociology class, and from a sociological perspective…you know. So, I’m going. Art History be damned, because—this once—I can miss that class.

Which is why on Tuesday at two in the afternoon, I’m standing outside JJ’s dorm, knocking. I’ve been here before a couple of times, mostly for study groups, but this is different. There aren’t any textbooks this time, no crowding around his coffee table made out of splintering pallets and an unfinished sheet of plywood. So, I’m standing here, still knocking, wondering what this is going to be like. I’m not sure what to picture, how many guys might be here, or if I’ll even know what to do with myself. After all, I’m only here to observe, but if they’re all sitting there with their dicks out, I’m going to look like an asshole if I’m not doing the same thing. I’m starting to get cold feet about the whole situation, ready to turn around and leave, because am I really about to sit in on a group of straight guys watching porn? The whole situation screams an opportunity for me to basically get hate crimed, and I’m realizing the potential for this to go wrong…except it’s a little late to back out now the door’s opening, and JJ’s standing there in nothing but his boxers.

Also, he’s alone.

I’m not sure how to take that.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

J R Hart is a queer 30-something novelist passionate about telling romantic and erotic stories about LGBT+ characters. When J R isn’t writing, you can find her at the science museum with her son, cheering for her favorite soccer team, or at The Bean Coffee Co plotting her next work. You can find her on Twitter and Instagram as @jrhartauthor, or on her website at jrhartauthor.com.

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Book Blitz: The Devil’s Boyfriend by Alexa Piper (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  The Devil’s Boyfriend

Series: Hellbound 2

Author: Alexa Piper

Publisher: Changeling Press

Release Date: February 4

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 153 pages

Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Mystery, Thriller/Suspense, Action Adventure, Dark Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, Gay, Shapeshifters, Magical Creatures

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Synopsis

Lionel, necromancer and police consultant, finds himself closer to the Devil than he ever wanted to be. But even for a necromancer, life goes on, and murder happens. The next crime scene is just around the corner, and Lionel will do his job… ideally without Lucifer looking over his shoulder.

After a traumatic experience, Lucifer knows he has to protect his necromancer, mostly from the other man’s own stubbornness and ignorance. Lionel is not quite as human as he likes to think, and to Lucifer’s great annoyance, Lionel hasn’t given up on his bad habit of running into situations without thinking.

Lionel doesn’t know how he feels about the Devil, and he doesn’t know what he wants in his life. Lucifer knows what Lionel needs, but getting the necromancer to accept that is the difficult part. And of course, there is murder happening in town, and it is not the boring human-on-human kind of violence. This time around, it looks like immortals are involved. Solving the case will require Lionel to accept who he really is while Lucifer wants his boyfriend to embrace who he truly can be. Lives may depend on it.

Excerpt

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2022 Alexa Piper

The Devil’s body on top of mine, his mouth stealing my breath, his woodfire smoke-and-spices scent all around me — that was not something I ever thought I’d get used to. Yet here I was, Lionel Hawkes, consultant for Brunswick PD and accomplished necromancer, my cock rubbing against Lucifer’s belly and his own erection as he was doing his damnedest to kiss me senseless. My lips were already tender, but the soft lighting dipped his bedroom in an amber glow, and that made me care less about the state of my lips somehow… as long as he kept coming back for more kisses. I wanted to bury my fingers in his baby-cat hair, but Lucifer had my wrists crossed over my head, his hand holding me there. I could struggle, but he wouldn’t let me go. I’d tried that before, and he’d kindly informed me that I got to move my hands when he wanted me to. He fucking owned me.

I bucked up to get more friction and heard his deep voice break into a chuckle that made my entire body tremble.

“Sweet Nelly, is there something that you want from me?” he said with laughter smoothing around his words like warmth around a fire.

That fucking asshole. He knew exactly what I wanted. I wanted to come. He’d put me on my back in his too-large and weirdly round bed with the super-soft cotton sheets about an hour ago, and then he’d started with kisses, with touch, with friction that was just never enough.

“I have work in the morning. I just want to come and go to sleep,” I said. I’d been off for three weeks after that thing with the crazed serial killer, a.k.a. No Longer Quite So Sexy Mitch, who’d drugged and abducted me. But tomorrow was my first day back. “And you seem to have one hand free, so if you would, Lucy?” I looked down to my leaking cock. Damn, my belly was slick from our combined precum.

I wiggled under him, feeling the soft sheets I was lying on. I tried looking away as if this whole lovemaking thing bored me. Lucifer had drawn the curtains, but I didn’t really think they were thick enough to hide what he was doing to me. Obscure it, yes, but if anyone with a daring heart got to his wilderness of a home on this cold-ass November night and peeked up, they’d know exactly what was going on in the Devil’s bed. I’d complained about it two weeks ago. Lucifer had smirked and said, <em>If anyone does dare to come here, they should be rewarded by getting a glimpse of your face, writhing in ecstasy because you have my cock deep inside you. It will serve them well to think of it while I punish them for the transgression</em>. So typical — boisterous Devil-speak.

And that was just so Lucifer, but since the room was partially lit, I saw him pull back and look down at me as if he were a cat and I a canary, caught between his claws with my wings splayed. He wanted to fucking torture me, I could see that in his sapphire eyes. Not actual torture, but he wanted me in a writhing puddle of need, so desperate I begged for his cock.

Heavens knew he’d fucking gotten me into that state before.

Before Lucifer could make another noise, before I could try to get a wrist free to jack myself after all, my phone rang. Lucifer’s eyes darkened. “I told you to turn that off,” he said. He didn’t raise his voice. Lucifer didn’t have to. He was the fucking Devil. His voice carried.

“And I told you I need to be reachable,” I said as the <em>Jaws</em> theme music grew louder. “Let me up, I need to go answer that.”

Of course, the Devil his own damn self didn’t move a fraction of an inch. “You do not need to be reachable when you are in my bed, when I have you and am in the middle of figuring out how exactly I will make you feel me — what exactly I will make you feel once my cock is buried deep in you.”

Oh, damn his stupid sex talk. It got me in entirely the wrong mindset to achieve my current objective — answering the phone. And I would bet a spell he’d stolen that line from one of the countless romance novels he read. There was currently a pile of them near his reading armchair by the window wall. He got up to two or three a day sometimes. That one weekend, when I’d told him I just needed quiet and hot cocoa after escaping the fucking basement a psycho killer had dragged me in to kill me, Lucifer had actually complied. He’d made me sit on the couch in his rich-people house where he let me stream just whatever sappy thing I wanted to watch without comment from him. In fact, Lucifer had refilled my mug with hot cocoa whenever it was empty, and sat there as close as I would allow it like some classical statue, reading through a stack of those damn novels. He had taken a reading break every couple of hours, and his breaks had only consisted of getting me off. If I allowed it.

I had allowed it. “You just read about that in your damn book?” I had asked after he was done with one of his breaks, my naked back pressed against his chest, my spent cock still in his sticky hand.

He bit my earlobe before he answered. “The things I want to do to you, Nelly… They aren’t in any of those books.”

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Meet the Author

Alexa Piper writes steamy romance that ranges from light to dark, from straight to queer. She’s also a coffee addict. Alexa loves writing stories that make her readers laugh and fall in love with the characters in them. Connect with Alexa on Facebook or Instagram, follow her on Twitter or TikTok, and subscribe to her newsletter!

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New Release Blitz ~ The Real Thing by Elizabeth Hollows (Excerpt & Giveaway)

The Real Thing by Elizabeth Hollows

Word Count:  45,813
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 186

Genres:

CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
FAKE RELATIONSHIPS
FRIENDS TO LOVERS
GAY
GLBTQI
MEN IN UNIFORM
VALENTINES

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Book Description

One soldier home from training. Two best friends secretly in love. A plan to fake a romantic Valentine’s weekend. Will it be happiness or heartbreak?

Chad Anderson is a proud soldier with a promising career. He has almost got the perfect life, but for one small snag. Chad has been holding a candle for his best friend since he was seventeen.

Gareth Jenkins lives with him, along with his rescue dog. It’s the perfect arrangement and almost as good as the real thing—but it isn’t the real thing.

To make matters worse, it’s Valentine’s Day, and Chad will be returning from training for the holiday. It would be the ideal time to confess—but it has been nearly ten years. It’s long past the time to say something.

But he isn’t the only one with a candle.

Gareth might be a confident hairdresser with a flirtatious manner and easy-to-love personality, but it doesn’t help him where it counts. Because Gareth’s first love is his sexy soldier best friend, and one of these days, Gareth is sure he’s going to ruin everything with an unwanted kiss.

And if things aren’t bad enough for both of them, Chad comes up with an idea that might spell the end for their secrets. Because, instead of spending Valentine’s alone, he suggests they spend it having the weekend they’ve always wanted.

To do it, they’ll fake being a romantic couple.

When what they want is playing out right in front of them, can both men keep their feelings contained?

Excerpt

On paper, Chad Anderson had the perfect life. He had a promising career in the military. He got along well with his fellow soldiers and the officers at his base. He had good financial stability, which had allowed him to buy a nice home in the suburbs and he had a loving and supportive family and a best friend whom he’d known since high school. His friend even lived with him, looking after the house while he was training or traveling with the army.

Everything seemed ideal. The people who didn’t know him might joke that the only thing missing was a loving wife for him to come home to.

But that was the heart of his problem. He did have someone to come home to, only unlike Chad wished, his best friend was not his spouse.

Gareth Jenkins had been his friend for many years, and despite all Chad’s attempts to stop it, he had fallen thoroughly and completely for the man. He couldn’t even say he’d turned around one day and realized Gareth was everything he’d ever wanted. No, it had started on day one.

They’d never really shared the same social circles in high school. In fact, they could have gone without ever speaking two words to each other if Chad hadn’t been leaving late one afternoon and found the shorter, scrawny teenager being cornered by bullies.

Chad had immediately leaped into the fray to protect the smaller teen. He’d already been training to prepare for the army, and despite being outnumbered, the other boys had stood no chance. Once they’d fled, he’d turned to Gareth and offered a hand. Gareth had flashed a bright, grateful smile, and Chad’s stomach had twisted and developed butterflies.

He hadn’t known it at the time, but that had been it for him.

At seventeen, Chad had blamed his pounding heart on the fight. He’d mumbled about Gareth staying safe before leaving the scene. The next day, Gareth had been waiting out front of the school. He’d thanked Chad again and hung around talking to him.

Almost overnight, they’d become close.

Chad had started spending all his spare moments with Gareth, his crush growing until it was a constant warm feeling under his skin. But Chad had wanted to bury his head in the sand. He hadn’t wanted a crush, especially not on another guy. He’d struggled to accept it for a long time, but the tipping point had been Gareth confessing a crush on someone in his class.

Gareth had admitted it on the way home from school. He’d been nervous but trying not to show it as he came out about his sexuality and infatuation. Chad had felt his stomach drop and his heart crack. It had left him with the knowledge that Gareth liked guys, but didn’t like him.

Chad had gone home and taken to his punching bag with vigor, trying to work out his pain and anger. His mother had found him, and with a few careful words, had prompted him to spill his truth.

To this day, Chad still appreciated that. She had pulled him into a hug, uncaring of the sweat coating his body. She’d accepted him without a moment’s pause.

Six months later, he’d scrabbled together enough confidence to tell the rest of his family and Gareth. But by that point, Gareth was already dating his crush, and Chad had taken to burying his feelings. He’d focused all his attention on the military and sworn that to walk into his new career with all his focus, he’d have to do it without a boyfriend by his side.

Nine years later and recently turned twenty-six, Chad was still repeating the same thing. He used it like a mantra to try to forget what he felt and explain why he didn’t date anyone.

The handsome gay lawyer in the corner? He wasn’t interested because he didn’t have the time.

Gareth’s last boyfriend? Chad didn’t like him because he’d looked down his nose at Gareth’s hairdressing career.

Advertise for a roommate? Why would he do that when Gareth was struggling to find a place to stay, and they could just share?

But denial only went so far. After long years in and out of training, surrounded by men and women who had all accepted the grim truth about the uncertainty of war, he realized the only person being fooled was him.

He’d spent close to ten years falling in love with his best friend. It now left a continuous but familiar ache over his heart. Most of the time, he could cope with it. Even coming home to Gareth’s bright smile after long months away didn’t strain his control.

But for the first time since they’d started living together, Chad worried. Normally, returning home from training was the highlight. He was eager to see his best friend and return to the ease and relaxation of civilian living.

But he was going to be home for Valentine’s Day.

If that weren’t problematic enough, for the first time in years they were both single and would be spending the weekend together.

It could have been the perfect set-up. He’d only need to admit what he felt, and the life he wanted could be at his fingertips.

But you’ve had nine years plus of hesitation. Do you really think the risk is any better now?

Chad didn’t.

He’d run his fair share of scenarios about him and Gareth. He’d lie awake in bed at the base, thinking about his best friend’s smile and trying to imagine how the man would take his open-hearted confession. Chad had rarely finished the scenarios to the end. It always took a turn for the worst. He wasn’t interested in spending his downtime crafting new ways to break his heart.

But he didn’t want Gareth dragging him to a club on the most romantic day of the year, either. Gareth often messaged him while he was away, regaling him on the nightlife and dating disasters he’d gone through in Chad’s absence.

Gareth wasn’t a party animal, but he easily attracted people into his orbit. People wanted him at their gatherings. He would always have a funny story to tell and never minded being the butt of the joke. Chad believed Gareth could make the sun shine on a rainy day just by smiling at the clouds.

It was something Chad could appreciate after the strict, intense environment he’d come from. Gareth made the first twenty-four hours easier, and his friend always tried to have the day off to spend it with him.

This time, he was arriving in the afternoon. Chad had taken a taxi from the airport, having persuaded Gareth that he didn’t need a lift. He felt certain that if he became swept up in the emotion of an airport greeting, he’d do something foolish like kiss Gareth. A taxi ride was safer. It gave him time to calm his thoughts.

When he arrived outside the house, he paid the driver and grabbed his bag. He stood on the pavement admiring his two-story home. The lawn had been recently mowed and there wasn’t a fleck of scratched paint or a curtain out of place. Gareth often joked he was the perfect househusband. Chad had never remarked on the subject. Just because he agreed, it didn’t mean he wanted to imagine Gareth maintaining a home for anyone else.

Walking up the path to the front door, he smiled at the sight of the open garage door. He could see their cars as if they were waiting for him to return. Gareth’s was a simple red Subaru while his was a silver Toyota pickup.

He reached the front door and could already hear the excited barking from Gareth’s rescue dog. Gareth had been volunteering at a local animal shelter when he’d fallen in love with her. He’d sent Chad a picture of them both looking up at the camera with puppy-dog eyes. He’d agreed within moments of reading the text about her needing a good home.

Grinning at the familiar, joyful sounds, he dropped his bag, braced his legs and opened the unlocked door. Helga was on him in a moment. He laughed as the two-year-old German Shepherd’s weight hit him full force. She was up on her hind legs, her front ones on his chest as she tried to lick his face.

“Hey, girl,” he greeted fondly. “I’ve missed you, too.”

He heard footsteps over her excited yipping.

“I’ve heard it’s nice to come home to a good woman,” Gareth teased.

Chad didn’t stop running his hands over her head, but he flicked his gaze up to find Gareth leaning against the doorframe. He was in low-slung blue jeans, barefoot, wearing a faded green shirt. His brunet hair was artfully blow-dried and brushed back from his face. He had in his familiar nose ring rather than the diamond stud he sometimes wore.

He looked gorgeous. The perfect sight to come home to.

“I’d rather it be a good man,” Chad replied, “especially one who makes dinner.”

Gareth laughed. “Luckily, I have been well taught by my fabulous grandmother. Lasagna is already in the oven.”

Chad smiled. He gave Helga one more firm pat before gently pushing her off him. She complied but looked unhappy about it. Chad walked around her to greet his friend. Gareth pushed off the doorframe, and Chad wrapped an arm around him, pulling him into a hug. Chad closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment that truly meant home to him. He breathed in Gareth’s floral hair products and felt Gareth hug him back tightly.

His fellow soldiers pulled him into hearty backslaps and friendly embraces, but Gareth hugged with his entire being. He leaned completely against Chad and seemed unwilling to let him go. It often felt as if Gareth missed him just as much.

But since he was the only one hopelessly in love, he knew it was only wishful thinking.

All too soon, the hug broke, due to Helga’s persistent whining and the snout she tried to shove between their bodies. She also scratched his leg with her paw. Chad pulled away but kept one arm around his friend. He looked down at the enthusiastic German Shepherd. She was jet black all along her spine, the top of her head and her ears. Her chest and legs were a light brown, like sand. She was a beautiful dog, and he still couldn’t believe someone had so callously abandoned her. After he held out his hand, she bumped it with her nose, and he ruffled the top of her head.

Gareth sighed, and Chad glanced over. He was sending Helga a mock glower.

“You know, when I adopted her, I didn’t realize I’d become second place to my best friend.”

Chad chuckled. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

Gareth snorted. “Bullshit. I could leave for a week, and she’d barely notice I’d returned unless I had dog bones.”

Shaking his head, Chad removed his arm from Gareth. He snatched up his rucksack, and when he straightened, Gareth had stepped inside, giving him a clear path into the house. Helga followed so close that she almost pressed against his leg. The living room was immaculate, just as Chad had expected. They were both fussy with presentation. Chad had developed the discipline almost instinctively as a part of his training and Gareth was just naturally tidy.

“Here… Pass me that,” Gareth said, holding out his arm. “I can start a load of washing.”

“Thanks,” Chad said, handing his pack over.

It was almost routine at this point. Gareth would head to the laundry, leaving him to spend a few minutes reacquainting himself with the quiet and familiarity of home. Chad wandered through the living room, noticing a few new books that Gareth had bought. He picked one up, unsurprised to find it was a romance novel. There were a few new chew toys for Helga. Otherwise, apart from a few small rearrangements of items, nothing had changed.

The kitchen was off the living room with the laundry farther down the way, along with a bathroom. Upstairs had another bathroom and three bedrooms. Gareth’s room was to the left of the stairs, his was to the right while the middle rooms were the bathroom and one filled with gym equipment for him to keep up with his training.

Breathing in the scent of cooking lasagna, Chad closed his eyes and enjoyed all the sounds that spoke of home—the birdsong, the occasional sound of a passing car and the low hum of the TV from whatever Gareth had been watching before he’d arrived.

Yet, despite feeling grateful for the reprieve, Chad didn’t feel like spending time without Gareth. He opened his eyes and followed the path Gareth had taken to the laundry. Helga was at his heels the entire time. When he reached the door, he found Gareth muttering under his breath as he pulled out clothing and sorted it into two piles.

One was for his civilian clothes and his simpler pieces, like his tan shirts. The rest needed a separate wash and a more thorough checking of pockets and removal of Velcro. The latter always took a lot longer, and he’d tried to insist he could do it, but Gareth had always taken on the job since moving in.

It was one more way Gareth acted like that joked-about ‘househusband’. The sight always had Chad’s heart flaring with warmth. It was above and beyond what Gareth needed to do as a friend, but Chad wouldn’t stop him when it felt so nice.

When Gareth gave one of the shirts a cautious sniff, it was the perfect opportunity to announce his presence.

“I do wash my clothing while I’m gone,” Chad remarked.

Gareth looked over his shoulder, seeming surprised by his presence, before smiling.

“You mean it’s not just a bunch of sweat-slicked army men wrestling on the ground half naked?”

“Sorry to spoil your fantasies,” Chad drawled.

Gareth sighed loudly. “And the romance novels made it seem so realistic.”

Chad shook his head. He also crouched down to help Gareth with the sorting. There was an immediate problem when Helga tried to shove her nose in the way. Gareth laughed and ended up batting away Chad’s hands.

“I can handle a bit of sorting. You make sure Helga doesn’t rip something in her enthusiasm.”

Lowering to the floor, he put his back to the wall and spread out his legs. Helga immediately dropped between them. Her paw went over his thigh, along with her head. He patted her soothingly while keeping his gaze on Gareth.

The man was always a sight to behold, even while doing something so mundane as filling the washing machine. Chad itched to touch his friend. He wanted to slide a hand over his back, cup his neck and gently duck in to steal his lips for a kiss.

He wanted the soft sweetness of greeting his lover with a tender embrace.

Many of his fellow soldiers had joked or bragged about their plans to return home to their wives or girlfriends and make up for lost time. They had been without sex for too long and wanted to get their spouses on the first available surface.

Chad wanted Gareth. He couldn’t deny it. He’d spent lonely nights guiltily fantasizing about his friend. Chad had also woken up from too many dreams where he’d taken his aching cock in hand. He’d closed his eyes and muffled his groans with his pillow, desperate to keep from moaning his friend’s name.

But for all that he wanted to strip Gareth bare and take his time learning Gareth’s body and making him moan, it was the softer moments he craved when he came home from training. A bright smile, a tender kiss…

It was what would make Valentine’s Day all the harder to get through. It was the day of lovers, secret admirers and showing exactly how much you loved someone. Gareth might read ridiculous romance novels, but Chad was the one who wanted to buy his partner flowers and hold the door for him when they went out to dinner.

“Are you zoning out on me?” Gareth questioned.

Chad jerked from his thoughts to find Gareth watching him with amusement.

“Do you need a nap before we eat?”

“I’m fine,” Chad denied. “Thinking.”

“Uh-huh,” Gareth said, throwing the last of Chad’s civilian clothes in the wash. “Well, since we’re looking at things to wash.”

He sent Chad a pointed look. Chad glanced down at his clothes. They weren’t that dirty, but Chad knew it for the routine it was. Normally, he had a shower and changed out of anything relating to the army. It allowed him to relax entirely, as if he were washing away his training.

He hoped it would help him get his head back into the game. Weeks away from Gareth always made him maudlin and prone to wishing for things he didn’t have. He couldn’t afford to stay in the same headspace. There couldn’t be anymore fantasies about Gareth naked—or about cuddling and kissing him the way a partner would.

He had to return to best-friend mode. The shower was the best way to start.

“Good idea,” he said.

He had to shake his leg and push Helga gently away. Chad ignored her betrayed look and stood. He stretched, feeling his muscles pull pleasantly. When he lowered his arms, he looked down at his friend. Gareth was still kneeling on the floor. Chad couldn’t ignore the connotations of their positions, and he swallowed. He wanted to cup Gareth’s cheek and thumb at his perfect lips. Maybe draw him close so Gareth’s hands could rest on his thighs before unbuttoning his pants.

Chad turned away forcibly.

“Back in ten,” he said, keeping his voice level.

He left the laundry with measured steps. He still felt rattled. It wasn’t what normally happened on returning home. It was always hard, and he never stopped wanting Gareth, but he felt more on edge than usual.

It’s Valentine’s Day soon. It’s never a good time. You always spend it thinking about Gareth.

Climbing the stairs with heavy limbs. Chad knew better than to deny the truth. He’d spent too much of his youth burying what he felt for Gareth. But he’d admitted it long ago. He was in love, and the most romantic day of the year was going to hit him hard.

You’ve survived nine years. Don’t blow your cover, soldier.

Stiffening his shoulders, Chad reached the landing and turned down the hall to his room. He opened the door to find nothing was out of place. The window was open but there wasn’t any dust. He knew Gareth routinely gave his room a cleaning while he was gone. It was why he never left out anything incriminating about his feelings.

Opening his chest of drawers, he pulled out some of his most comfortable house clothes. As he did, heavy paws hit the stairs. Whatever Gareth had done to keep Helga at bay had failed. She pushed into his room, her tail wagging. He grinned and gave her another pat.

She trailed after him easily as he went toward the bathroom. He paused by the door, blocking the path.

“Sorry, girl,” he apologized.

You’re not the one I’d be inviting in here…if I could.

Shutting the door quickly, but carefully, he locked her out. She immediately scratched at the wood. When it didn’t illicit the right response, she gave a mournful whine. Chad put his clothes on the basin, chuckling at the assortment of haircare products taking up most of the space. He knew Gareth’s many accessories and devices would fill the drawers.

By comparison, he had a toothbrush, shaving cream, a razor and deodorant. Despite the avalanche of objects, Chad wouldn’t have it any other way. He opened one cream and took a small sniff. It was like pressing against Gareth’s hair.

Once, at his first posting, Chad had almost stolen one of Gareth’s jars of haircare products, wanting something to remind him of home. It had been a ridiculous flight of fancy, and he was glad he’d never done it, but he couldn’t help checking the products every now and again. They always brought a smile to his lips and sent a wave of fondness through him.

Putting the tub back where he’d found it, Chad turned on the shower’s hot water and stripped from his clothes. Helga continued to huff and whine at the bathroom door. Chad knew she’d either leave or Gareth would drag her downstairs.

The familiarity and sense of family was everything he’d tried not to miss while away on training, but now that he was back, he could let it seep into his bones. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t perfect and that Gareth would never be his life partner. If this was as close as he ever got, Chad would be happy.

Because despite the imperfections, this was still home, and he was glad to be back.

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About the Author

Elizabeth Hollows

Elizabeth Hollows is an Australian writer of LGBT love stories specializing in homosexual or lesbian romance.

Her preferred genres are fantasy, science fiction and contemporary/modern.

She has been writing since she was twelve, but has spent the last few years writing romance stories and discovering a passion for LGBT romance.

When Elizabeth is not writing she embroiders, reads and plots her next novel. She is a fan of the winter months and always has a book in her handbag and a cup of tea nearby.

You can find Elizabeth at her website here

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New Release Blitz: Luck Lines by Quinn Tollens (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Luck Lines

Author: Quinn Tollens

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 02/01/2022

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 19900

Genre: Fantasy, LGBTQIA+, Romance, fantasy, family-drama, magical realism, lesbian, luck, visual/performing arts, painter, musician

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Description

Every person is born with a line of luck on their arm that they can spend to bribe fate in their favor. Spend it wisely and the doors to success will open. Spend it foolishly and you’ll be shunned as a reckless blank-arm.

At age twenty-three, Helena has never spent a single inch of luck, for fear of ending up like her gambling brother. She’s never needed luck though. So far, her life has unfolded perfectly as planned, with her plush apartment, prestigious job, and parental approval. But then Helena develops inconvenient feelings for the mysterious, blank-armed Nadia who works in the office next door.

Nadia is brilliant and confident and absolutely hiding something. Helena wants to love her, but she has a hard time trusting someone whose priorities are so different from her own. Can Helena make this relationship work, or will she rue the day she took a risk on romance?

Excerpt

Luck Lines
Quinn Tollens © 2022
All Rights Reserved

When Helena was eleven years old, she watched her older brother burn his entire luck line.

She’d recently come home from boarding school for the summer. Her parents were busy on a work trip, much to her disappointment, so Michael was the only person around to babysit her. One day, while Helena was lounging around the house in a puddle of self-pity, Michael asked if she wanted to go see some ponies.

Of course, she’d said yes—she was an eleven-year-old with a dozen cowgirl posters in her dorm room. And, of course, there had been a catch—her brother was a recently graduated eighteen-year-old with his own car. He wouldn’t take Helena anywhere unless he absolutely had to.

“This isn’t a farm, Mikey,” Helena said accusingly. A proper stable would be a cute wooden shed beside a grassy valley where the horses could frolic and graze. This place was an ugly yellow box squatting in an endless parking lot.

“I said we were going to watch horses. I didn’t say from what distance. Don’t complain.”

As they approached the building, the thick scent of manure grew stronger, and a racket of clapping and shouting bled out of the walls. Her brother dragged her through a crowd of sweaty adults to the ticket counter inside.

A bored teller glanced at the pair: first Helena, with her tight braid and glitter jeans, then Michael, with his long bangs and baggy T-shirt. The man drawled, “Sorry, kids. We can’t take bets from minors.”

“I’m eighteen. And she’s not betting.” Michael opened his wallet to reveal a wad of twenty-dollar bills. How many allowances had he saved to get that much? “Race number twenty-three, two hundred dollars to win on Gravy.”

“Bold choice.” The teller slid Michael a form. “You understand the rules, yeah? You’re allowed to spend as much of your luck line as you want, but—”

“You’re not liable for anything. I know, I know.” Her brother signed the paper, grabbed his ticket, and led Helena to the bleachers.

Since it was a weekday, there were barely a hundred people in the stands, so the siblings had most of the row to themselves. Helena and Michael looked through the list of horses on his ticket. Gravy was scheduled for the next race.

Gravy did not look like a winner. He had a brindle coat with sickly gray spots. Helena pitied the poor horse as he was trotted to the starting line.

She was so busy worrying about the horses that she almost didn’t see her brother roll up his left sleeve. His luck line’s crimson hue contrasted sharply with his skin. It started at his wrist bone, then curled round and round the arm until it reached his elbow.

Like Helena, Michael still had all twenty inches of line he’d received at birth. But her line coiled tightly to squeeze itself within her forearm, while his line had stretched out with him during puberty. Michael slowly traced the length of his luck line with a forefinger, never letting his skin break contact.

Unease shivered up her neck. “Mikey, what are you doing?”

“A dumpy horse like that needs some help if he’s going to win.”

A gun went off. The horses galloped forward. Michael nudged his forefinger an inch up his arm. The bright-red mark faded into his skin. Gravy pushed his way to the front until he was head-to-head with a black horse named Lotus.

“But Mom and Dad say we’re only supposed to spend our luck line for important things, like college or job interviews or—”

“I need the money,” Michael snapped. He burned another inch of luck line to push Gravy into the lead.

“Why?” When her brother didn’t answer, she took her cell phone out of her purse. “Tell me why or I’m calling Mom and Dad.”

Michael winced. Helena would follow through on her threat, and they both knew it. “I…Iris is having a baby.”

Helena gasped. Michael’s girlfriend was the one who had bought Helena her first grown-up paint set. She was quiet and bookish and had a scholarship to Dunestown University. Why would she ruin her future by getting pregnant now? Helena could understand Michael screwing up, but Iris was supposed to be the responsible one.

A wave of cheers rolled through the stadium as a horse called Duke took the lead. The cream stallion cut in front of the competition. His tail flicked Gravy in the face.

Michael grimaced. “How? Two inches should be more than enough to win at this trash heap of a track.”

“Duke! Duke! Duke!” Six men stood up from their seats a couple of rows down. They held their left arms above their heads, showing off to the crowd as they burned through their luck lines in unison. Individually, their luck lines were embarrassingly short, barely three inches each. But if all six of them were pulling fate in Duke’s favor…

“Damn it, they must be planning to split the winnings.” Michael dug his finger into his skin and pushed down the line.

“Mikey, it’s not worth it!” Helena tried to pull his finger off the line. He elbowed her away. She watched in horror as he burned through four inches, eight inches, sixteen inches. Soon an entire lifetime of luck was gone.

Down on the track, Duke stumbled over a rock. The poor horse tumbled onto his side, spilling the jockey off his saddle. As Duke picked himself up, Gravy raced into the lead. He curved around the track, sprinting toward the finish line.

Michael leaned forward. “Come on, come on, come on!”

Gravy only had twenty feet to go when Lotus barreled past him to victory.

“No!” Michael fell to the filthy stadium floor. He took his finger off his skin to see the damage. His expression made it clear he’d burned more than he’d planned. He took his palm and rubbed his arm, as if he could somehow undo his mistake. “No, no, no…”

An elderly couple strutted up the stairs. The husband and wife each held the corner of a ticket. They carried the paper like it was a fragile gemstone. It wasn’t unusual for elderly people to be blank-armed, but Helena suspected the couple had burned their luck lines rather recently. Someone must have bet on Lotus, after all.

Michael sobbed by her feet. Helena felt bad for her brother, but at the same time, she had warned him. Now he’d lost two hundred dollars and his luck line with nothing to show for it.

Helena looked down at her own arm. Her luck line was still red and untouched—she wouldn’t be able to activate it until puberty—but it felt warm, as if all the luck burning around her would catch her arm on fire. She rolled down her jacket sleeves and put as much space between herself and her brother as she could.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Quinn Tollens lives in the land of corn, cows, and tornados. They started writing romance as a distraction from the doom and gloom of quarantine and forgot to stop. Quinn’s day job revolves around science, and so when they write, their imagination refuses to obey the laws of physics, biology, or common sense.

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New Release Blitz ~ His True Heart by Samantha Cayto (Excerpt & Giveaway)

His True Heart by Samantha Cayto

Word Count: 33,436
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 125

Genres:

 EROTIC ROMANCE
GAY
GLBTQI
MEN IN UNIFORM
VALENTINES

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Book Description

The heart always knows the way.

Chris Novak is adjusting to his lieutenant being the first openly gay SEAL. Seeing the man’s obvious love for his husband gives Chris ideas—ones he has ruthlessly suppressed his whole life. Becoming a SEAL was his dream. Having the love and approval of his father remains critical to him. Acknowledging his sexual orientation would have jeopardized both. While the military has evolved, Chris fears that his father’s views have not.

Tanner Pac has been openly out and proud since high school, with his family embracing him as he is. He knows being gay is not a problem, but his dream of becoming a software engineer is. His parents expect him to carry on the family business of running a pizza parlor. He dares not disappoint them, fearing a loss that would crush him.

While visiting his father on leave, Chris goes out for pizza, not expecting to run into his old girlfriend’s annoying little brother. They could never ditch Tanner and now that he is all grown up, Chris finds he no longer wants to. Facing the strong temptation that Tanner presents is causing Chris to also face the truth about himself.

As Chris and Tanner struggle to meet their parents’ expectations, their attraction for each other cannot be denied. Their strength and courage grow in each other’s arms, but it may not be enough to break free of the weight of family expectations.

Excerpt

“Man, the way the lieutenant’s reunion is going, I’m not sure they’ll make it home. Know what I mean?”

Petty Officer First Class Christopher Novak did indeed know what his teammate meant. Scott Carpenter’s husband had jumped into his arms the second he’d seen Scott coming through the gates. At the moment, the guy’s legs were wrapped around Scott’s waist, and the two of them were going to pass out from lack of oxygen if that kiss didn’t end soon.

“Yeah, but we shouldn’t be staring. It’s not like they’re animals in a zoo.”

His teammate, Diego, had no filter. “I hear you, only it’s like…when have you ever seen a SEAL kiss another man? It’s a first for me.”

Chris slung his duffel bag over his shoulder. “It’s a first for everyone, and Scott’s already on the receiving end of some nasty reactions. We don’t need to add to them.” He walked away, breaking his gaze from the sight. He hadn’t been able to make the wedding the previous summer, so this was the first time he’d seen Scott in such an obviously sexual way with his husband. He couldn’t bear to watch, not because it disgusted him but because it was compelling in a way that disturbed him.

Diego stepped up to his side. “Wanna grab a drink? I’d like to find some female company myself, and I hear The Anchor has added a new heat level to their wings.”

Chris shook his head. “Sorry… I’ve got laundry to do, then hitting the rack. I have an early flight to Detroit in the morning.”

Diego groaned. “Seriously? Why are you so keen on freezing your balls off after what we just went through? I need a few days in the sun to thaw out.”

“I’m overdue visiting my father. If you think you can convince him to move away from his hometown, his extended family and the proximity of my mother’s grave and come to San Diego, have at it.” There was more bite to his words than he’d intended. Visiting his father always triggered conflicting feelings in him. Obviously, he loved the man, but the strain of meeting his expectations was beginning to wear on him.

“Dude, I’m sorry. I was only joking.”

Chris flashed him a smile. “It’s fine. I know you were. I’m tired, that’s all. Have fun tonight, and I expect a full report on how it goes with both the wings and the women.”

He peeled off when they reached his truck. As he tossed in his duffel and slid behind the wheel, he reminded himself that spending his leave with his father was a good thing. They would talk shop, as much as legally permitted, watch sports and pretend that everything was great—because it was, damn it all. There was no reason to believe otherwise. And yet, the vision of Scott devouring his husband’s mouth in front of God and everyone stuck in his mind, no matter how hard he tried to shake it away.

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About the Author

Samantha Cayto

Samantha Cayto is a Boston-area native who practices as a business lawyer by day while writing erotic romance at night—the steamier the better. She likes to push the envelope when it comes to writing about passion and is delighted other women agree that guy-on-guy sex is the hottest ever.

She lives a typical suburban life with her husband, three kids and four dogs. Her children don’t understand why they can’t read what she writes, but her husband is always willing to lend her a hand—and anything else—when she needs to choreograph a scene.

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New Release Blitz ~ The Love Token by Raven McAllan (Excerpt & Giveaway)

The Love Token by Raven McAllan

Word Count:  34,958
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 134

Genres:

EROTIC ROMANCE
HISTORICAL
MEN IN UNIFORM
VALENTINES

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Book Description

 Spies, smugglers, scandals. Stealth, seduction and sex. All they had to do was decide which was theirs to take and what had to be earned. And hope they reached their happily ever after.

Jonathon, Viscount Carville, soldier, spy and would-be lover of Miss Miranda Riston, has accepted a mission to discover who is smuggling contraband into East Yorkshire. Her papa, however, is convinced Jonathon is dead, and wishes her to marry elsewhere. Miranda refuses and is delighted to find Jonathon is very much alive but working undercover on behalf of the British Government.

More is at stake than just a few shillings of tax duty owed.

Among their close friends and acquaintances there is a traitor working against the crown on behalf of Emperor Napoleon. Danger threatens as they seek to discover the identity of their treacherous foe.

Who is an innocent pawn? And who is not all they seem?

It’s a puzzle that must be solved if they are to get the happy ever after they long for.

Excerpt

February 1818

Miranda Riston stared at her parents in horror. Surely they must be mad? Addle-pated and, not to put a finer point on it, ready to be admitted to Bedlam. Otherwise, why on earth would they suggest such a thing?

“Do I understand you correctly?” she said with deliberate care as she did her best not to lose her temper and show herself in a less than rational manner. Even if she was of a mind to scream like a fishwife and throw things. “You think I should become betrothed to Edward Twain? Viscount Carville’s younger brother?” Over my dead body—or yours. “Never in a million years.” Apart from the fact Edward had an understanding with another young lady, he was one of her beloved Jonathon’s siblings.

The least effectual one. The one who moaned and whinged and assumed almost everyone was against him.

She wasn’t against him, but if she were honest, she had little time for his attitude and feeling of entitlement. If he had worked with Jonathon and helped to create a strong and growing family estate, she probably wouldn’t have been so critical, but as far as she could tell, he had not.

Jonathon. Who worked tirelessly for his family and country and was happy not to be recognised for all he achieved. He just, as he’d once said, “got on with what had to be done and did it without a fuss”. “Fussing”, he had added with a grin, “was so much effort for very little reward”. Unless it was over her.

Miranda had laughed.

If only he was there now to say the same things. She put one hand over the necklace she had worn under her gown for the past three years. The tiny blue sapphire in half of a silver four leaf clover. A symbol, he had said, of his love for her. My lover. Even if he never became her husband, he was the one man she’d given herself to gladly, and she would do so again as easily as before.

“You are nigh on the shelf. It is a good alliance,” her papa said in a ‘listen to me, I am your parent’ voice. “He is the heir, and it will cement your future.”

There had to be more to it than that. “He is not the heir,” Miranda said firmly. Why on earth did they think that? Unless they knew something she didn’t. That was not anything to bear thinking about. “Jonathon is the heir as you well know.”

Jonathon.

The only man she would ever love. The one man who she admitted she would go to the ends of the earth for.

The man she had spent one magical night with, learning all about love and sex. How to pleasure and be pleased. How to take his cock in her mouth and lave it until he bucked under her and filled her mouth with hot salty liquid, which she had gladly swallowed. How to gently squeeze his bollocks and help him hold back his climax or come hard and fast.

Discovering how he could lick, lave, nibble and suck her nub, swirl his tongue into her channel and make her shake and scream. Then enter her, move inside her until she swore his cock swelled and reached her soul.

Sadly, to feel him pull out before he filled her with his seed. In order, he’d said, to ensure there was no child of that union. Not yet, not until he returned.

Now she wondered if it would have been better to clamp her legs around him, tighten her inner muscles and ensure he’d climaxed in her. If a child had resulted this situation would never have happened.

Or would it have? In some ways it might have given her parents what they would have seen as more leverage. Lack of legitimacy.

“Miranda?” her papa asked irritably. “Are you listening to me? You need to marry. Edward is a neighbour. It would be a good and useful match.”

“Useful?” Who on earth wanted a useful marriage? “For whom? What about Jonathon? He is, I believe, the heir, unless his mama played his papa false, and I could never see Edwina doing that.” Jonathon’s mama was devoted to her husband.

“Do not be crass,” her papa snapped. “Jonathon is to all intents and purposes dead. No one has heard from him for nigh on three years. His papa says so. Not one sighting, no mentions in dispatches.”

“No body,” Miranda said quietly. If he were dead, I would know it. Feel it. I am sure he is not. And I have heard from him. Cryptic notes, left at their trysting place every so often. No more than ‘I am safe’, or ‘I love you’, but it was enough. She’d left replies. ‘Stay safe’, and ‘I love you’. The only one she’d received that worried her had not been in his hand, nor by him. It had said simply, ‘he is safe’. She had been thankful he was but had wondered who had left it.

“However, that,” she continued, “in this case, is immaterial. Be he alive or dead, I will not marry Edward. We would not suit. Plus, I will not marry for convenience. Only love.”

“Overrated,” her papa retorted. “As for a body, do you know how many were left unknown at Waterloo? Too many to mention.”

Miranda’s mama paled. “Thank you, Henry. How good to know where I stand, and your dismissing of our brave soldiers. I agree with Miranda. She and Edward would not suit.”

“It’s Edward Twain, or I disown her. And you.”

What on earth was going on? Why was her papa so adamant? “Papa, have you lost all our money on ‘change?”

His face reddened, and his anger was palpable. “Indeed, I have not. I want to see you married and settled. You have shown no partiality to anyone, so it is my duty to find you a husband. I have.”

“No,” her mama said forcefully. “You have found her someone you want her to marry, and no more. I told you, Henry, I begged you to reconsider but you did not. I also wonder why?”

“It’s… I think it sensible.”

He didn’t sound too sure.

“Papa, I’m sorry, but I do not agree and I will not agree.” It was rare she defied her papa—she loved him, and he was in general a reasonable man. What maggot had got into his head and given him this irrational idea she couldn’t think. Whatever it was, she disagreed vehemently.

“Nor do I think it sensible. Or rational,” her mama said. “Henry, you may not love me, you may indeed choose to disown me, but I have always loved you and admired your sense of honour. This is not honourable. We always said we wanted Miranda to have what we have. Or,” her mama corrected herself, “what I thought we had. It appears I was wrong.”

Her papa appeared horrified. “My dear, how could you doubt I love you? I have since the moment I set eyes on you.” His anger disappeared as fast as it had arrived. “I spoke in the heat of the moment. Miranda has a fortune. We do not want fortune hunters sniffing about. I worry for her.” He turned to his daughter. “Miranda, I just think that if you did love someone you would be wed by now. I haven’t noticed you show any partiality towards any of the gentlemen you’ve met, so I would be failing in my duty not to suggest someone.”

“As long as that person was around, you would see my partiality,” Miranda said softly. Luckily, it appeared no one heard. She wasn’t prepared to share that information. Not then, maybe not ever, and she had no idea why.

“Papa, you did not suggest. You insisted,” she said instead. “At the risk of being rude to my elder and better, I’m not wed, and I will not marry Edward,” she added firmly. She grinned for a second before the seriousness of the situation hit her once more. “We would not suit at all.”

“Nor will he and the Amble chit,” her papa said. “She’s no future Lady Twain, or an eventual Viscountess Carville. Edward’s papa will not allow it.”

“Henry, come with me, and let us talk about all this,” her mama said as she took her husband’s arm and began to propel him out of the room. “We have to listen to Miranda.” She winked at her daughter. “And let her marshal her thoughts and reasons.”

They left the room.

Miranda let her breath out in one long whoosh. “Of all the stupid, awful, arrogant, idiotic, insane, asinine ideas…”

“I totally agree. Lock the door,” a familiar voice said from outside the open window.

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About the Authors

Raven McAllan

After 30 plus years in Scotland, Raven now lives near the east Yorkshire coast, with her long-suffering husband, who is used to rescuing the dinner, when she gets immersed in her writing, keeping her coffee pot warm and making sure the wine is chilled.

With a new home to decorate and a garden to plan, she’s never short of things to do, but writing is always at the top of her list.

Her other hobbies include walking along the coast and spotting the wildlife, reading, researching, cros stitch and trying not to drop stitches as she endeavours to knit.

Being left-handed, and knitting right-handed, that’s not always easy.

She loves hearing from her readers, either via her website, by email or social media.

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New Release Blitz: Exodus 20:3 by Freydis Moon (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Exodus 20:3

Author: Freydis Moon

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 02/01/2022

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 21800

Genre: Paranormal, LGBTQIA+, PNR/fantasy, horror, romance, Latine, transgender, D/s power play, construction worker, angel, suspense

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Description

Religious eroticism and queer emancipation meet in a claustrophobic monster-romance about divinity, sexuality, and freedom.

When Diego López is guilted by his mother into taking a low-key construction job in New Mexico, he doesn’t expect to be the only helping hand at Catedral de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe. But the church is abandoned, decrepit, and off the beaten path, and the only other person for miles is its handsome caretaker, Ariel Azevedo.

Together, Diego and Ariel refurbish the old church, sharing stories of their heritage, experiences, and desires. But as the long days turn into longer nights, Diego begins to see past Ariel’s human mirage and finds himself falling into lust—and maybe something else—with one of God’s first creations.

Excerpt

Exodus 20:3
Freydis Moon © 2022
All Rights Reserved

“You have the address. Go.”

Diego López gnawed his lip as he leaned against the rusted tailgate on his father’s busted Chevy.

He cradled his phone against his ear and tried to focus on his mother’s voice, exhausted and cold, rasping through the speaker. The gas station was quiet—nearly abandoned—but his attention darted to an oasis floating above the highway and a napkin tumbling across the empty lot. He pitched his shoulder upward to steady his phone and smacked a pack of Lucky Strikes against the heel of his palm.

“I can find a way to pay you back,” he said and pulled a cigarette free with his teeth. “I don’t need another handout, and I definitely don’t need to play carpenter at some bullshit church to—”

“Cállate,” his mother snapped. “You listen to me, mijo. You get in that truck, you drive to that church, and you make this right. No one put you behind the wheel of that car—my car—and no one put the… the drugs in your wallet, and no one—”

“I know.” He sucked smoke into his lungs and switched his phone from one ear to the other.

“This isn’t about the money. This is about honor—familia. You go, understand? Go, work, get paid, come home. Do your community service and fix your life. This man, this Ariel, he’s giving you a chance. Take it before he changes his mind and hires someone else.”

“Yeah, because every able-bodied worker in town is trippin’ over themselves to go rebuild a church in the middle of the desert, Mamá. Sure.”

“You made your choice. Go.”

He angled his mouth toward the sky. She wasn’t talking about his fourteen-hour stint in jail or the cash-bail she’d worked double shifts at the diner to pay for. She was talking about the sickle-shaped scars beneath his shirt, the choice he’d made three years ago—eighteen and able to say, Yes, do it. Same vague guilt trip, same acquiescence. You’re like a coyote, she’d said to him once. Halfway to a wolf but still something else. He thought about that as she breathed on the other end of the line and imagined her sitting in the recliner in his childhood home, rolling a slender joint, watching fútbol while a pork shoulder braised in the crockpot. Sometimes she tripped over his name, her tongue unused to making the sound, but when she’d met him at the door after he’d been released from El Paso Detention Center, she’d said Diego with her full voice. Cracked every syllable like a bone.

“Yeah, okay.” He sighed. “Do you want me to call?”

She huffed. “Eres mi sangre.”

He shook his head and finished his cigarette, then crushed it beneath his boot. “Sé.”

“Tomorrow, then. You’ll tell me about the church?”

“Sure, yeah. Tomorrow.”

“Drive safe,” she said.

Diego ended the call without saying goodbye. He stood with his thumbs tucked through his belt loops. Endured the heat. Watched the road. Pictured himself elsewhere, across the state, settling in Austin. He’d bartend to make ends meet. He’d never touch narcotics again. He’d rent a studio apartment, and fill it with houseplants, and learn how to cook. He’d send money to his abuela, and he’d visit her more, and he’d grow the fuck up. Becoming another disappointment on the López family tree wasn’t an option anymore.

It never had been, but stealing the car, crashing the car, getting caught… Yeah, that changed everything.

Early summer rippled through the dry air. He scanned his phone again, reading and rereading the address his mother had sent him—coordinates, actually—before he hoisted into the driver’s seat and turned the key in the ignition. According to Google, Catedral de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe was located in Luna County, New Mexico. He pulled his lip between his teeth again. Seven grand to help rebuild a decrepit church in the middle of the desert? Camming paid more. He’d found that out after getting hit with top-surgery bills. But now that his mother knew about the Vicodin, he certainly didn’t need her to know about the porn too. He manifested the future he’d imagined—bartending in Austin, visiting his grandmother, making pozole in his apartment—and drove toward a city called Sunshine.

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Meet the Author

Freydís Moon (they/them) is a biracial nonbinary writer and diviner. When they aren’t writing or divining, Freydís is usually trying their hand at a recommended recipe, practicing a new language, or browsing their local bookstore.

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New Release Blitz ~ Cross My Heart by Aliyah Burke (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Cross My Heart by Aliyah Burke

General Release Date: 1st February2022

Word Count: 31,567
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 139

Genres:

 CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
MEN IN UNIFORM
MULTICULTURAL
VALENTINES

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Book Description

One night together can lead to forever…

Rash decisions had not really ever been her thing, until one night in a bar with her brothers had Cynzia Cassano irritated enough to kiss the next guy walking through the door. Little does she know that he is going change her life.

Lucas Hoch is out with his best friends when a woman that knocks his world on its axis kisses him. Unable to forget her, he follows and takes the night with her she offers. It will never be enough. She is gone when he wakes and he will scour the earth to find her again.

When their paths do cross once more, as much as he wants to keep her, she is a woman with her own strong mind and life to live. Will there be room in their lives for each other?

Reader advisory: This book contains characters from Casanova in Training and Temporary Home.

Excerpt

“Come on, sweetcheeks. Don’t be like that. This is your lucky night.”

Cyn tucked a curl behind her ear, opening her mouth to inform this man—and that was a term she used loosely—just how wrong he was just as two men, both taller than her, appeared at her side.

The man, Jack, she recalled his name being, eyed them both up and down with challenge. She fought to hide her snort.

“You know,” she remarked as if his life weren’t in danger, “you should probably just walk away now.”

Jack puffed up and sent another scathing look at the two males beside her. “These your men? You one of those broads who enjoys more than one dick at a time?”

“Oh,” she said with a smile, “these aren’t my dates. But you’ll wish they were.”

He snorted. “Who are they then?”

“My brothers.”

The words barely had time to leave her mouth before her two brothers each took one of the obnoxious man’s arms and backed him away from her. Not the slightest bit polite about doing it either. Rolling her eyes, she turned back to the pool game she’d been keeping an eye on and sucked on the straw while watching the woman there set up the man she was playing against.

“How do you do it, Cynzia?”

One shoulder up in a shrug, she waited until the woman sank her latest shot before glancing back to her brothers. They were triplets, the three of them—she was not only the youngest but the only girl—and it tended to make her brothers a bit overprotective.

Michael, the eldest, wrapped his arm around her, and she sank into him. She was also the shortest, not having gotten the height the boys had from their father, Giovanni Cassano. She was closer to their mother’s height.

“What are you doing here, Cyn?” This time the question was posed by the middle brother, Dante. “Why aren’t you home with Mom?”

Pushing her now empty drink at her brother, she turned to be able to see them both. “I’m not in diapers. I’m twenty-three, same as the two of you. I am allowed to go out to bars.”

Michael growled low in his throat. “And get picked up by assholes like the one we just had to chase off? You should be smarter than that.”

That dig hurt and pricked her normally laid-back temper.

“One, I wasn’t getting picked up. He was hitting on me, and I was about to tell him to fuck off when you two walked over.”

“You didn’t tell us where you were going,” Dante snapped.

“Of course I didn’t. I needed to get away from the smothering. You two are far worse than Mom and Dad, and let’s face it, between Dad and our uncles, I didn’t think anyone would be able to be worse. But you two have surpassed them with flying colors.” They both grinned. She scowled. “Not something to be proud of. I came here to get away from everyone.”

“We followed you.” Michael pointed out the obvious.

He had always been so literal. A lot like their mom, Jaydee. Very blunt and took statements as they were given. He didn’t have the time or the care to try to see if there were hidden meanings in the words coming out of someone’s mouth.

Cyn flattened her lips and took several deep breaths. It wasn’t like she didn’t love her brothers. She did, and she would die for them in a heartbeat. However, she also wanted to do things without them. Like find a man and have sex. Lots and lots of it.

“Why did you follow me, Michael?”

“You’re our sister.”

His tone told her everything. He found nothing wrong with his behavior.

“I am, yes. And I love you both. But you have to stop following me everywhere. I’m capable of taking care of myself. I want to go out and not see you boys there behind me, scaring away a guy I may want to talk with.”

Dante crossed his arms. Michael ran his gaze over her.

“You want us away because you are looking for sex.”

May the good Lord just let the floor open up and swallow her because she was mortified. Her siblings weren’t quiet, and Michael’s statement had gotten more than a few males’ attention.

She ignored the flush scampering over her face and held up her hands. “Stop it. Right now, both of you. You’re trying to get me to leave, well, fine. I’m leaving.” They both stepped forward, but she shook her head. “No. I’m leaving by myself. I’m going to a different bar and I don’t want to see you until morning. We’ll meet at the hotel for breakfast. We’ll talk, laugh, and I will go with you to the airport to get you on a plane to head back home and let me enjoy my trip.”

“You’ll be without protection,” Dante protested.

“I don’t need it. I grew up in the same house as you did. We have the same parents. The same uncles. All of whom taught us self-defense. Not to mention Aunt Bailey.” She took a deep breath. She wasn’t a schoolgirl who was in danger. She knew how to take care of herself. “I’m leaving now. And I’ll show you I can survive by myself. I’ll even kiss a guy on my way out, and you’ll see, it will be okay.”

Pushing up on her toes, she kissed Michael’s cheek then Dante’s. She walked to the door after putting her empty, which she had taken back from her brother, down on the bar. As she neared the exit, three men walked in that took her breath away. All of them were fit, and she would bet her life they were military. Having grown up in her household, it was easy to pick them out.

It was the man in the middle, though, who made her heart beat all the faster. Darkly tanned skin, short black hair and a body she would love to touch. He turned toward her as he looked around the establishment and his lips quirked up in the left corner of his mouth. Those blue eyes mesmerized her, and she nearly tripped over her own feet.

Standing before him, before she could talk her way out of what she was about to do, she smiled. He replied in kind.

Now or never.

She slid her arm around his neck and once again stood on her toes. This time, instead of the cheek as she’d done with her brothers, she went for his mouth, to touch those bow-shaped lips.

Seconds later his hand palmed the nape of her neck, holding her close in a proprietary motion as his other hand pressed against the small of her back. His tongue dipped inside her mouth and teased hers.

Cyn scrambled to get her senses back enough to pull away. She didn’t want to, even as she did. The din of the bar faded into obscurity, and all she could focus on were this man and the harsh pounding in her chest combined with the way her lungs struggled for air.

Forcing her legs to move, she ducked by the men there and walked out of the bar.

Holy shit.

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About the Author

Aliyah Burke

USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR

Aliyah Burke is an avid reader and is never far from pen and paper (or the computer). She is happily married to a career military man. They are owned by six Borzoi. She spends her days at the day job, writing, and working with her dogs​. She loves to hear from her readers and can be reached here. She can also be found on Facebook or Twitter: @AliyahBurke96. And Pinterest.

If you would like to be kept abreast of what’s going on in the world of Aliyah, you can sign up to her newsletter here.

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Book Blitz: Haints Alive by J. Halie Steele (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Haints Alive

Author: J. Halie Steele

Publisher: Razor’s Edge

Original Release Date: January 28, 2022

Heat Level: 5 – Erotica

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 29

Genre: Erotica, Fantasy, Dark Fantasy, Kindle Unlimited, Paranormal, Dark Desire, Gay

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Synopsis

An angry, dead spirit is useless – until it becomes the living Haint in your bed!

Warning: This is a Razor’s Edge Monster Erotica Story. Expect limited plot and character development, and lots of paranormal heat. If you’re looking for a lengthy plot driven erotic romance, this is not it!

JD Tolliver begins research for his thesis on paranormal phenomena as a nonbeliever. He believes now. A ghost or angry spirit, a true haint, follows JD from Appalachia. His finding a suitable body so he can leave poses a problem — $it has JD by the balls@!

Coll Collins spent over a hundred years locked in silence. Suddenly freed, he discovers that gay hate crimes are not a thing of the past. The stranger he attaches himself to is sassy and, to Coll, sexy as hell. Never had the pleasure of a soft young man, and Coll plans to take advantage every single night until he returns home.

Excerpt

Dropping his bag by the door, JD headed straight to the kitchen for a glass of milk. Bringing the glass with him, he collected his suitcase and pulled it to his bedroom. Couldn’t wait to check out a few scavenged treasures from his trip to the Appalachian area on the border of Tennessee and Virginia. He’d thought the area would be a good place to begin research for his thesis on paranormal phenomena.

Wished his father understood JD’s interest in experimental psychology. Heck, considering he couldn’t get the man to call him anything aside from James David, as if JD left some sort of unsavory tag on the Tolliver name, seemed highly unlikely the old man would ever change his mind about JD’s interests.

Opening his carryon, JD retrieved an item he hadn’t dared leave to baggage handlers. Discovered it in a dusty, trash strewn corner of a soon-to-be demolished old mansion in Laurel Bloomery, Tennessee. The small cube-shaped box smelled of cedar, and JD had kept it safely on his person the remainder of his trip. It resided in a bag on his lap during the flight. Risky, considering he discovered every time the box was close he got a raging hard-on. Not a prude by a long shot, but his bookish looks led men to believe he was… well… virginal.

Turning it over and over in his hands, still couldn’t fathom how to open it. No key hole, no seams at all; just a tiny, plain wooden box slightly larger than a jewelry box that might hold a ring. Could darn near close it in the palm of his hand. “What treasure are you hiding?” He reached for his crotch to arrange the growing bulge into a more comfortable position. Lost in pleasure, he continued to massage his growing hardness until drops of cum dampened underwear. Yes, JD needed to get laid. “Um, feels good.”

He couldn’t stop. Shoved his hand inside pants, used pre-cum to facilitate jerking off. Sound of wet hand against skin sliding back and forth over his crown darn near had him coming full force in his pants.

His phone vibrating in his jacket pocket created a colossal mess. Jumping, JD knocked into the glass on his nightstand, sending milk everywhere and his precious box sailed through the air. “No!” When it hit the floor and broke, JD strangled on air caught in his throat as he glimpsed a shiny object roll beneath his chest of drawers. Thick, white smoke billowed into the room. Smelling like cedar, it swirled and swirled before floating over to envelop him. JD swore it was an attempt to molest his body. “Oh Lord!”

“Knew you’d have the cutest little ass.”

Tripping backward, JD hit the bed and watched the white cloud plummet downward. Substance felt weighty and JD nearly fainted.

A gruff voice murmured, “Thank you for freeing me.”

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Meet the Author

J. Hali Steele wishes she could grow fur, wings, or fangs, so she can stay warm, fly, or just plain bite the crap out of… Well, she can’t do those things but she wishes she could!

Multi-published and Amazon bestselling author of Romance in Paranormal, Fantasy, and Contemporary worlds which include ReligErotica and LGBTQ stories where humans, vampyres, shapeshifters and angels collide-they collide a lot! When J. Hali’s not writing or reading, she can be found snuggled in front of the TV with a cat in her lap, and a cup of coffee.

Growl and roar — it’s okay to let the beast out. — J. Hali Steele

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