New Release Blitz ~ Dark & Deadly Collection (Giveaway)

Dark & Deadly Collection

It’s Halloween, and the trick-or-treaters won’t be satisfied with candy. These Halloween-themed BDSM stories are sure to cause a thrill. You’re invited to a fancy dress party in the dungeon and introduced to Doms even scarier than their costumes…will it be love at first strike?

Under His Dominance by Jasmine Hill

Can he keep her forever, under his dominance?

Asmodeus is the Archdemon of lust. Ever since he became a fallen angel, he’s been walking the earth, inciting and encouraging lust and lechery amongst mankind. In his guise of Barrett Lord, he rules over an empire of clubs that cater to the lustful urges and fetishes of humans.

When he spots Arianell Monroe at his annual Halloween party, he determines to have her. Her angelic beauty and innocence are too much for him to ignore. He wants to take her purity as his own, corrupt her and ruin her for any other man. And he’s going to start by introducing her to his private BDSM dungeon.

Arianell is fascinated by BDSM, but her shyness, coupled with the reactions others have had to her albinism, has kept her from exploring her curiosity. But something about Barrett Lord puts her instantly at ease. She’s immediately attracted to the powerful and dominant club owner and finds herself quickly sucked into his heady orbit. She naturally submits to his commanding alpha presence and sexual dominance but determines to set her heart and head against him. Even she knows that he’s not the sort of man who will commit—to anything.

Arianell is special and Asmodeus wants to keep her, but to do so, he’ll have to risk everything. Will she agree to his plans? Or will he lose her forever?

Reader advisory: This book contains instances of possessive behavior as well as pain play.

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Reclaimed by Her Alphas by Jayce Carter

Halloween is the perfect time for these three alphas to give their omega a treat…

When Claire fell in love with Bryce, Joshua and Kaidan, she thought she’d found her happily ever after, but her life seems more trick than treat these days. A year after having their daughter, Claire barely recognizes her own mates. Between their new roles as parents, their exhaustion as they raise a child and Claire’s fears about how her body has changed, they’ve become little more than roommates.

Hoping to give them all a break, Claire throws a Halloween Party for the alphas and omegas of their group. The tension between Claire, Bryce, Joshua and Kaidan is on display, and their friends are willing to intervene for the good of the foursome, even if that means risqué clothing, a bag of toys and more than a little manipulation.

Claire and her alphas finally get some time alone…but they’ll have to risk taking off the masks they’ve been hiding behind if they hope to turn their scary story into a Halloween treat.

Reader advisory: This book is linked to The Omega’s Alphas series.

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Show Me Something Good by Hannah Murray

Kit Howard likes to watch. Nathaniel Saint likes to watch Kit…

Kit Howard loves everything about her job except for one: Nathaniel Saint. Her boss’s grumpy, grouchy twin brother and co-owner of the company is both a thorn in her side and fodder for her fantasies. She does her best to stay out of his way—having a crush on the boss is the reason why the previous executive assistant left, and while that worked out okay for her, Kathleen isn’t willing to risk her job for sex, no matter how good it might be.

Since sexy, sulky Nate isn’t an option, she’s forced to consider others. Thanks to a friend, she has an invitation to a “private” Halloween party held by the local BDSM club. While Kit has no interest in bondage, pain, or the power games of BDSM, she does have one kink—she likes to watch. And the glorious thing about the kink scene is that it’s often on glorious display. scene is one of the few places where voyeurs are welcomed along with everyone else.

Including, apparently, the grumpy, grouchy Nathaniel Saint. Because he just walked in the door, and he’s headed straight for her.

Reader advisory: This book is linked to the Perfect Taboo series.

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About the Authors

Jasmine Hill

Jasmine was born in Australia and grew up in Sydney. She currently lives in Madrid, Spain with her husband.

She adores reading all genres but in particular she enjoys erotic romance novels and thrillers.

Jasmine loves writing and is always looking for new ideas for stories that will provoke inner passions, stimulate the senses and ignite the imagination.

Her interests include cooking, traveling, yoga and skiing.

She has won some short story competitions and is now excited to have started publishing her erotic romance stories through Totally Bound Publishing.

Jayce Carter

Jayce Carter lives in Southern California with her husband and two spawns. She originally wanted to take over the world but realized that would require wearing pants. This led her to choosing writing, a completely pants-free occupation. She has a fear of heights yet rock climbs for fun and enjoys making up excuses for not going out and socializing. You can learn more about her at her website.

Hannah Murray

Hannah has been reading romance novels since she was young enough to have to hide them from her mother. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband—former Special Forces and an OR nurse who writes sci-fi fantasy and acts as In-House Expert on matters pertaining to weapons, tactics, the military, medical conditions and How Dudes Think—and their daughter, who takes after her father.

Find out more about Hannah at her website and blog.

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New Release Blitz: Dublin Bay by John Patrick (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Dublin Bay

Series: Tides of Change, Book One

Author: John Patrick

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 10/26/2021

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 87200

Genre: Historical, LGBTQIA+, Historical, Ireland, World War II, PTSD, IRA, espionage, minister, new adult

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Description

In 1939, the world tumbles toward war and the lives of two young men will be forever changed.

James Brennan grew up in the poorest of Dublin’s tenements, turning adversity to advantage wherever he could. But he’s nearly a man now—with a good education at that—and wants more from life than what he can get as a day laborer, or following his father into the factory.

Otto Werner is the privileged son of a German diplomat stationed in Dublin. Otto is destined for great things in the new Europe sure to arise after Germany’s victory in the war. But he’s a lonely young man, living in Ireland with only his father for company, cut off from friends and family back home.

The two teens meet by chance, and each sees in the other a means to advance his own interests. But they quickly become friends, and then—surprisingly, dangerously—more. As the globe spirals deeper into chaos, the love between the young men deepens; but their world is not a hospitable place for forbidden love.

As war comes closer and closer to home, everything they believe—about themselves, about each other, about the world around them—will be shattered. Will their love for each other survive the pull toward destruction in a world gone mad?

Excerpt

Dublin Bay
John Patrick © 2021
All Rights Reserved

September 1939

I was standing ankle-deep in the murky shallows of Dublin Bay when I first saw Otto Werner. The tide was receding and I was following its path, scraping mussels off the rocks of the breakwater with my dull knife. My feet pulled out of the thick mud with a suctioning plop each step I took.

Otto stood at the far end of the pier above me, enduring the attentions of a woman—his mother, I guessed—as she fussed over him, tucking back his hair, straightening his tie, smoothing his lapels. He was nearly as tall as she was.

Just for a moment, a shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds and spotlighted him, a golden youth descended from heaven.

He looked dressed for Mass, or a wake.

My vantage point was limited by the height of the piled rocks, and I needed a better look. I wedged my wooden bucket into a wide opening between boulders and pulled myself up, slipping on seaweed and scraping my side.

The woman released him, smoothed the front of her coat, then placed one hand on top of his head, as if in benediction. Her other hand gripped her hat as a sudden gust threatened to lift it.

A man who had to be his father stood behind him, looking impatient. The man and his son were both tall, lean figures, with shockingly bright blond hair, although the youth would need to grow several more inches if he was to reach his father’s height. They wore hats of an unusual style. The man carried himself with authority and stood as if on parade. The son was gangly but tried to mirror his father’s pose now that he’d been released from his mother’s arms.

The Cambria mailboat was docked farther down, at the end of the pier, and when I pulled my eyes away from the youth, I noticed dozens of people waiting to board, along with stacked piles of trunks and packages staged for loading. All of the passengers were dressed in finery.

It was an odd time for so many people to be traveling to Wales, less than two weeks after the declaration of war.

I climbed down and stepped back into the shallows to continue my work, moving deeper into the bay as I filled my bucket. The top of the breakwater was just above my head, and all sound from the shore was washed out by the waves breaking against the rocks ahead of me. The sun was suddenly bright again, and the harbor waters shifted from deep purple to green and silver.

Once I’d filled my bucket with mussels, I added seawater and fixed the wooden lid to the top. I made my way back to dry land, green strands of rockweed clinging to my calves below my rolled-up trousers. Small cuts covered my fingers, and sandy grit smeared my face from when I’d leveraged myself up for a closer look at the people on the dock.

As I stepped from the narrow strip of stones above the tide line onto the pier itself, I saw the Cambria pulling away, steam whistling in a high shriek as the screws churned the water. Terns dove into the frothy mix.

The man and his son were still standing on the dock.

I put my bucket down and stretched my shoulders, then picked it up and walked to the harbormaster’s station at the front of the pier. My dad’s cousin, Eamon, worked for the harbormaster, and he was leaning against the side of the building next to my bicycle, finishing the black bread and cheese I’d given him when I arrived. He waved forward the group of children waiting their turn at the rocks, and they raced toward the sand with their jumble of buckets and rakes.

Eamon eyed my haul. “Good take, Jimmy?” he asked between mouthfuls.

“Yes, and there’ll be plenty left for that gang too.” I nodded to the children disappearing down the mudflat.

“Good. I don’t mind holding them off for you, but they need to get theirs too.”

I righted my bike, and Eamon helped me fit the weighty bucket into the square metal cage above my rear tire. “What’s with the mailboat?” I asked.

“That’s the Germans. We got word yesterday of some sort of deal to get them home. The ones who wanted to leave, anyway. Makes no sense to me. I’d rather sit the fighting out right here if I was them.”

I looked to my right, down the length of the dock, and saw the man and his son heading our way. It was obvious they were German now that I knew—sharp-angled faces and oddly cut clothes. Their hats made me think of the Alps. The son glanced back, once, at the Cambria as it made its way through the breakwater and into the bay.

I turned back to Eamon. “Who do you think will win?”

“I don’t know. Plenty wouldn’t mind seeing the Germans give the English a good thrashing, that’s for sure,” he replied.

I thought of my older brother, Liam, who’d been spending a lot of time with his IRA pals before he joined the Irish Defense Force. There was no love lost between him and the English. My dad didn’t offer an opinion. “Keep your head down and tend to your own,” he’d say. “We’ll have enough on our plates with our own Emergency.” But then, he was often half lost in drink and spared little time thinking beyond the next glass.

“Right. We’ll just keep our heads down,” I told Eamon, echoing my father.

The man and his son had stopped at the street, beside a fancy black car with a small German flag on its antenna. The youth kept pointing at me as he spoke with his father. I supposed I looked a proper mess.

I’d just gotten my bicycle rolling, not an easy task with thirty pounds of mussels on the back, when the man called out to me.

“Boy. Stop a moment.” I barely avoided toppling over as I brought myself to an abrupt halt next to them. I stood on my toes, straddling the bike to keep it steady.

“Those are mussels, yes? Are they for sale?” he asked.

I didn’t say anything. They weren’t for sale; they were destined for our stewpot at home. Meat of any sort had become quite dear since the Emergency was announced, with rumors of rationing ahead. Most families like mine had resorted to scavenging what they could. And anyway, mussels were working-people food, so why would this German gentleman be interested?

He must have read the suspicion in my eyes. “My son and I are celebrating our first night as bachelors.” He glanced at the young man next to him. “Isn’t that right, Otto?” Otto. A harsh, foreign-sounding name. Otto remained silent, studying me.

The man turned back to me and continued. “We had them once from a street vendor in France, and Otto loved them, but his mother wouldn’t permit them in the house. She said they were too common.” He seemed to realize that was a mistake, and he looked aside. “That is… I mean, Otto and I both liked them.”

When I didn’t respond, he asked, “How much do want for the whole bucket?”

I still hadn’t answered his question if they were for sale. The son—Otto—was staring at me. I had strands of seaweed wrapped around my legs, and my gritty hair was plastered to the side of my face. I was puzzling through the man’s accent, somehow crisply British yet guttural at the same time. I returned Otto’s stare, wondering if he would sound the same.

His piercing blue eyes didn’t leave mine as he took a step toward me and held out his hand. “I’m Otto,” he said.

Both of my hands had scrapes and cuts and were covered in sand and drying mud. There was no clean surface for me to wipe them.

“Otto…” his father began, before trailing off uncomfortably.

What else could I do? I extended my hand and, as lightly as I could without offending, closed it around his. “Jimmy,” I replied. Then, for some reason, I added, “James.”

“Hello, James. Would you sell your mussels to us? My father and I wouldn’t know where to buy them at the market.” His English was much better than his father’s but sounded more forced, perhaps because he spoke slowly, as if he wanted to be certain of each word before letting it out.

What was it about this strange, foreign youth that fascinated me? He looked to be about my age, sixteen or so. He was a good four inches taller though, and his skin was a smooth, rich cream, without scars or scrapes or sand or mud. He’d removed his hat and his blond curls shifted about in the wind.

His father spoke again and offered a ridiculous price for the bucket. We could buy a real Sunday roast with that, even carrots and potatoes, and have some to spare.

I schooled my expression. “Oh, sure, that’s a fair price for the lot of ’em,” I offered as casually as I could.

The man seemed relieved. “Good,” he said and glanced at his son, as if seeking to confirm he’d done the right thing.

Otto’s wide smile was a surprise. It transformed him somehow.

Something ticked over deep inside me.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

John Patrick lives in the Berkshire Hills of Massachusetts, where he is supported in his writing by his husband and their terrier, who is convinced he could do battle with the bears that come through the woods on occasion (the terrier, that is, not the husband).

John is an introvert and can often be found doing introverted things like reading or writing, cooking, and thinking deep, contemplative thoughts (his husband might call this napping). He loves to spend time in nature—“forest bathing” is the Japanese term for it—feeling connected with the universe. But he also loathes heat and humidity, bugs of any sort, and unsteady footing in the form of rocks, mud, tree roots, snow, or ice. So, his love of nature is tempered; he’s complicated that way.

John and his husband enjoy traveling and have visited over a dozen countries, meeting new people, exploring new cultures, and—most importantly—discovering new foods. After such travels, John invariably comes down with a cold. During a trip to Japan in 2019, he was amazed by how many people wore surgical masks in public to protect both themselves and others from viruses. “Gosh,” John thought, “wouldn’t it be great if we’d do this in the US?” John sometimes regrets the wishes he makes.

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New Release Blitz ~ Skeletal Equation by AE Lister (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Skeletal Equation by AE Lister

Word Count: 30,378
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 135

Genres:

BONDAGE AND BDSM
CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
GAY
GLBTQI
HALLOWEEN
MÉNAGE AND MULTIPLE PARTNERS

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Book Description

 

What do medical kink, pup play and Halloween have in common? Scott Vernier. A visit to the local leather bar offers an unexpected treat!

Scott Vernier is lonely and bored, but he’d rather sit at home and mope than go out. A promise to a friend forces him to attend the annual Halloween party at Sonny’s, his local leather bar. Amid the tacky costumes and seasonal desperation, Scott meets two people he never expected to encounter.

Can a man well-versed in medical kink and his leather-pup boyfriend introduce Scott to a whole new world of illicit pleasure?

When Dr. Jericho Griffin gets down to business, Scott finds himself responding in explosive ways.

Reader advisory: This book features discussion only of scat, enemas and needle play. There are scenes of pup play and a scene involving voyeurism.

Excerpt

The scariest thing about Halloween currently was how little I cared for it. As a younger gay man, I’d have planned my costume for months, figuring out the sexiest way to be a zombie, a vampire or any of the other popular standards, and I’d have attended at least three parties to try to get laid. Now I was too old and jaded to care about any of that.

But it was a week until Halloween, and I had no excuses. I’d told Duke I’d be at the local gay leather bar for the annual party. He was scheduled to bartend that night and I’d foolishly committed to being there, at least for part of the evening.

I hated Halloween.

I’d loved it as a child, and as a teen and young adult, it had been an excuse to get smashed and flirt with people I’d be too intimidated by otherwise. But now, as an adult? Halloween seemed like a waste of time. I definitely had better things to do.

Or did I?

It was true that I hadn’t socialized a lot recently, because my job was exhausting, even though it fulfilled me. As an anthropology professor at the local college, I had classes to teach most days and students to support during office hours. Then there was the prep time and marking… I’d managed to fit my life into an organized and workable routine, but I was a busy man.

I had promised Duke I’d try to have some fun, simply to get him off my back and stop him from calling me ‘old before my time’—although the annual Halloween Ball at Sonny’s wasn’t exactly my idea of a great time.

For one thing, I didn’t have a costume. For another thing, I didn’t want to wear one.

But costumes were compulsory for this event, so I had to make at least a minimal effort. I had a T-shirt, somewhere, with glow-in-the-dark bones on it. If I could find it, I’d wear that and say I was a skeleton. Yeah, that was pretty dumb, but the guys who worked the door knew me, and I was pretty sure they’d let me in. It paid to be friends with the bartender, even though he pressured me to be more social.

I liked Duke a lot. He was a bear of a man but the sweetest guy anyone would ever meet. I’d gotten to know him when he’d taken one of my anthropology courses. He’d invited me for dinner once the semester had ended, and he and his cute-as-hell boyfriend Julius had cooked me the most amazing spaghetti Bolognese I’d ever eaten. It was a fast friendship with them both after that. Julius worked in IT and made good money, so Duke could bartend a few nights a week and spend the rest of his time making small sculptures out of reclaimed ‘junk’ and taking occasional classes of interest to him.

I didn’t have many close friends, and I considered Duke and Julius to be an important part of my life, especially as I hadn’t been able to find a partner to join me on this questionable journey. I’d had the occasional boyfriend, but the long-term bond had never become anything significant before either I or the other guy decided things weren’t working. I wondered if I had the temperament for a permanent relationship.

Some people were meant to be single and maybe I was one of them.

I dug through three drawers before I found my skeleton shirt scrunched in the corner. Great, it will be wrinkled as well as dumb. Ah well, there was nothing to do about it. I wasn’t gonna fucking iron it. I didn’t even think I owned an iron. Ironing seemed like the most useless and annoying chore on this planet, and I wasn’t going to be a part of it.

I slid the shirt over my head and stepped in front of the mirror. It fit a little tight, but that was okay. That just showed off my slim build to my advantage and made some of the wrinkles disappear. The sleeves were plenty long and the fabric gathered slightly at my wrists. I pulled down on the bottom edge of the shirt. It wasn’t too bad but would probably show skin if I had to reach my arms up. I wasn’t planning to do that, so it should be fine.

The bones glowed in the dimness of the room, even though the shirt had been in my drawer. I’d wear it around the house so it could absorb more light. I’d have to be careful not to spill anything on it while doing the dishes, but the more I wore it, the quicker the rest of the wrinkles would come out.

Luckily, I was able to load the dishes and wipe the counter without incident, and when I checked myself again, I was pleased with my half-assed attempt at participation. It would have to do, and at least I looked sexy. I’d put on my brown faux-leather pants that hugged my hips and showed off my long, slim legs. I was of average height and my black hair had begun to streak with gray, but I was fit and strong and didn’t look half bad tonight, if I was honest. Maybe the visit to the popular club would be worth it and I’d be able to bring someone home for the evening. It had been a while since I’d seen any action. I didn’t want to contemplate how long.

I went to the bathroom and used some gel to muss my hair into an artfully untidy style. At the last minute, I applied some black eyeliner that I saved for special occasions when I was feeling it. Even though my enthusiasm for the Halloween party was negligible, my interest in seducing a warm body for a few hours began to rise.

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About the Author

AE Lister

AE Lister/Elizabeth Lister is a Canadian non-binary author with a vivid imagination and a head full of unique and interesting characters. They have published 10 books, one of which received an Honorable Mention from the National Leather Association – International for excellence in SM/Leather/Fetish writing.

“Sensual and visceral BDSM.” – Amazon.ca

Find out more about AE Lister at their website, and follow them on Instagram and Patreon.

Giveaway

Enter for the chance to win a $50.00 First for Romance Gift Card!

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Notice: This competition ends on 2nd November 2021 at 12am EST. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.

New Release Blitz: About Time by Adrian J. Smith (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  About Time

Author: Adrian J. Smith

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 10/26/2021

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 62600

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, contemporary, lesbian, bisexual, doctor, chaplain, hospital, emergency room, enemies to lovers, slow burn, cheating, over 40

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Description

Doctor Gisele Vasquez is consumed by bitterness after the messy break up with her ex-husband, and it’s not until one smart-mouthed chaplain puts her in her place that she realizes she needs to change. With determination, she sets out to become the doctor and woman she wants, and her first step is to make a friend of the enemy.

Chaplain June Melville loves her job and making a difference in her patients’ lives. While she looks put together at work, her home life is about to all fall apart. When she discovers her girlfriend is cheating, June finds herself homeless, alone, and desperate. With nowhere to turn except one angry doctor turned friend, June takes a step in the direction of her own healing.

Excerpt

About Time
Adrian J. Smith © 2021
All Rights Reserved

June’s second phone vibrating alerted her to the emergency. Sighing and wordlessly issuing an apology to Lydia, who sat across the table, she reached to her waistband and unclipped the cell. She skimmed the words and closed her eyes briefly.

“I’m so sorry to cut this short.” June grabbed her iced tea and took a big sip. “I got a call, have to go in.”

Lydia rolled her eyes and let out a huff before flicking her perfectly curled blonde hair behind her shoulder. “You always leave like this.”

“I’m on call, Lydia. You know what that means. I get a call. I have to go in.”

Lydia scrunched her nose and pouted out her lower lip before whining, “Just stay through dinner. I promise I’ll make it worth your while…”

She slid her warm hand up June’s thigh. As much as June wanted to stay, she knew Lydia was unlikely to keep her promise after already being put out with the thought of her leaving. Not to mention work was work, and she loved her job.

“It’s my job. You know that.”

The pout reappeared, and June bit her tongue, avoiding the retort she wanted to make. Instead, she grabbed her coat and her scarf.

“I’m leaving. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Again. The pout.

Wrinkling her nose, June pushed out of her seat, threw her coat over her shoulders, and wrapped the scarf around her neck. She leaned over the table, kissed Lydia on her still-pouting lips, and headed out of the door. Her stomach twisted at the thought of Lydia’s tantrum that was no doubt about to blow up her phone.

Once she reached her car, she untwisted her scarf and slipped out her dickie from the glove compartment. She shoved the front of the dickie down the front of her shirt, wrapped it around her neck, and snapped it into place before reaching back into the glove compartment. The box was decently small, black and smooth to touch, but it was one of the most important boxes she’d ever been given. She brushed her fingers over it, opened it, and pulled out the white clerical collar she’d worn too many times to count. Fitting the white collar over her black dickie, June made sure everything was in place before starting her car and taking off toward the hospital.

June pulled up to the large and ofttimes-looming building and parked in the designated chaplain spot. Rubbing her thumb over her lower lip, she let out a short breath and a prayer. “Lord, be with me tonight. Let me speak your words. Let me do your work.”

She pushed open the door to her old rickety car and slammed it shut to make sure it locked. She really needed to get that fixed. Making a mental note, she pocketed her keys, straightened her jacket, and headed inside and out of the cold.

The hospital was a-bustle as it typically was on a Friday night. June ducked off into a hallway, flashed her badge against a door, and went into a back hallway permitted only for those who worked at the hospital. June left the restricted area, turning down two more hallways and keying through a couple more doors, and found herself in front of the chaplain’s offices.

She unlocked the door, took off her jacket, and tossed it over her chair before heading back out and toward the Emergency Room. She checked in at the nurses’ station, but she easily heard which room she’d be going to. Jerica was the charge nurse that evening, and June smiled at her before nodding, indicating she wanted an update as soon as possible.

Jerica shook her head. “Not good. Family is in room three. They came in about an hour ago. Two-year-old son sneaked out the doggie door at the grandparents’ house and climbed into the hot tub. It’s not looking good.”

“Who’s in there?”

“Mom and Dad just got here. Grandparents have been here the whole time, along with the five-year-old brother. He’s the one who found the two-year-old.”

“Goodness.” June’s heart thumped.

“You’re telling me.” Jerica looked at her patient tablet. “They’ll be moving him to PICU as soon as they can get transport, but he’s stable for now.”

“Got it.” Straightening her shoulders, June turned on her heel and headed in the direction of the wailing and yelling. It was going to be a long night.

Inside the private room, she found the family. Father shouting at grandma, mother sobbing, grandfather in shock and in the corner with wide eyes, and big brother holding grandpa’s hand with fear written all over his face. June had her work cut out.

“Sorry to interrupt. I’m Chaplain Melville.”

The room became pregnant with silence. In the center of it all, a small boy lay prone on a giant hospital bed. Tubes and wires connected him to machines. His lifeline protruded from his mouth, forcing air into his lungs as his chest rose and fell in an unnatural rhythm.

“I’m so sorry to meet you under these circumstances.” June stood upright and transformed her features into a look of compassion. “What’s his name?”

“Travis.” His mother choked on the word.

“What a beautiful name for a beautiful child.” June stepped closer to the bed, directing her next question at big brother. “And what’s your name?”

“Austin,” he squeaked out. “Is my brother going to be okay?”

Tears threatened June’s eyes, but she had to push them back. Her job was to remain strong for them when they couldn’t be. She squatted down to Austin’s level. “I don’t know, Austin. But I do know we’re going to do our very best to take care of him. Okay?”

Austin nodded.

June stood up again. “I’m here to support you all through this crisis. I’m here to be a sounding board, to pray with you, to be a second or a third ear. What you need to do right now is focus on this little boy here and making sure he has all the support and love he needs.”

Everyone in the room nodded. Immediately, the energy level went from critical anger to calm. June had already done the majority of her work, and it was far easier than it could have been. Moving into the second phase of her job, she moved closer to Travis.

“Tell me a bit about your son. Let me get to know him like you know him. We probably have a few minutes before the doctors interrupt us again.”

No sooner had she spoken the words than Doctor Giselle Vasquez pushed open the door with her face buried in her patient computer. Two nurses followed closely behind her, and she barely looked up from her screen. June pressed her lips together, wishing it had been any other doctor that evening. Vasquez was known for being harsh, cold-hearted, and quick to dismiss family.

The air in the room tightened. The mother’s lips parted as she looked desperately at Vasquez, no doubt wanting answers right then and there. June straightened herself as well, ready for a battle she didn’t even know she was going to have to fight.

“I’m Doctor Vasquez.” She set the computer on the table next to the bed and shifted onto one foot, digging her toe into the worn linoleum. “Travis is going to be moved to our PICU unit so they can more closely watch him. These nurses are going to get him ready for the transfer.”

“Is he going to be okay?” The words tumbled from the father’s mouth in a rush.

The question was on the floor. All Vasquez had to do was answer kindly, but June feared her temper she was known for would get the best of her. Ready to step in between if necessary, she waited for Vasquez to respond.

“I can’t answer that.” She shook her head.

June narrowed her eyes, daring to believe she saw a flash of compassion. Perhaps not all hope was lost.

“Well, what can you tell us?” The father’s shoulders stiffened, and for a brief moment, June feared she might have to step in between again but for an entirely different reason. Her job was to be a go-between and a support for whomever needed it, staff and patient alike. The father was antagonistic. She’d learned that in the twenty-seconds she’d known him, and fear tickled in the back of her throat that if pushed even in the slightest, he would blow in the wrong direction.

“Your son almost drowned.” Vasquez leaned against the bed, softening her tone. June had never seen her do something like this before. “We were able to revive him, but we won’t know the extent of the damage until we’re able to run more tests, which we can’t do until it’s been a sufficient amount of time for his body to recover. We don’t know if he’ll walk again or talk again or even be able to breathe on his own again. What we do know is he’s alive, and we’re going to keep as close an eye on him as possible. They can do that in the PICU, the pediatric intensive care unit. Until then, I don’t and won’t have answers for you.”

The father’s lips parted, and he jerked forward, but the mother put her hand up to stop him. Tension rose in June’s chest, waiting for the father to break.

“You’re going to have to wait,” June said, wanting to keep everything as civil as possible.

Tears swarmed in the mother’s eyes as she silently pleaded with her partner.

“Yelling is not going to solve anything. We need to rally together for Travis and for one another. Austin has also been through a great trauma tonight.” At the mention of his name, the father grabbed his son’s hand and tugged him closer to his side. It was a sign June was happy to see. “You need to all be here together for your children. Nothing else.”

They all reluctantly nodded. Vasquez stood up again. “Doctor Hineman will meet with you shortly once he has time to go through your son’s file.” She nodded to the nurses, who started to move the machines and get Travis’s small body ready for transport. “Until then, if you have any questions, feel free to ask, but you can expect him to be moved soon.”

Vasquez left the room shortly after, but June stayed with the family. The tension seemed to dissipate. The energy was gone. It didn’t take too much longer for the grandparents to take Austin out of the room to care for him, leaving Travis and his parents alone. June waited until the medical aides came to take Travis to transfer him. By that point, she felt the situation was under control and she could step out and leave them on their own for a bit. She made a mental note to check on them in the morning when she returned for her rounds.

June headed to the break room and grinned at the full pot of freshly brewed coffee. The scent wafted over to her and made her heart quiver with anticipation. She poured herself a full cup, sipped at the steaming liquid, and rolled her shoulders to ease the tension.

Lydia popped into her mind. She closed her eyes. Their relationship was ending. They both knew it, but neither wanted to admit it. Lydia was jealous of her work, and June just didn’t have the energy to deal with jealousy or clingy behavior. Taking a breath, she pulled out her phone. Sure enough, notifications littered the screen. She flicked through them, not paying close attention to what was said.

She’d read it all before. She’d had the conversation time and time again. But she wasn’t willing to leave her job, her career, her calling, the one thing she had spent a decade working on just because her partner didn’t like her hours. Sighing, June shook her head; they both knew it was more than that. Lydia was adamant God did not exist. She was even perhaps borderline paranoid about the Christian faith itself and its influences.

They’d survived the last year solely by not talking about it. That had been a bad idea from the beginning. Turning toward the door with the cup at her lips, she jumped and about spilled it all down her front when the door slammed open.

“Idiots!” The word left Vasquez’s lips as she came storming in.

June clenched her teeth. A fresh pot of coffee was a strong call for all in the vicinity, especially when it was obvious Jerica had brewed it.

Vasquez stopped short of June and rolled her eyes before walking around her to the coffee pot. “I swear no one listens to me.”

A chant went off in June’s mind, begging her not to take the bait, but she couldn’t resist. It was in her very nature to offer help when and where she could. The word left her lips before she could stop herself. “Oh?”

“Nothing you’d understand.” The sneer and pomp rang through her voice. Vasquez turned up her own cup and downed half of the contents.

June froze. She’d suffered this kind of abuse from Vasquez before, and she’d watched the nurses receive the same. Before she could even form a response, Vasquez was already going on again.

“They never listen. I told the idiotic nurses—”

“I’m going to stop you right there.” June put her hand up. Vasquez’s lips actually halted, much to June’s surprise. “I don’t need to hear the complaint. You don’t need to say it. You treat everyone around you like they’re your personal servant. I’ve had enough of it, and I’m not going to put up with it anymore. They won’t say anything because they’re all scared to set you off. You’re a brilliant doctor, but you’re also a bit of a bitch.”

Vasquez’s jaw dropped.

“Yup. I said it. You’re a bitch. I have watched you work in this hospital for years, and you went from being a good doctor with compassion to being the one who walks through the halls and everyone scatters in the other direction. No one likes you here anymore. But they used to. So, what changed?”

Silence. It permeated June’s heart to the point she could hear her own breathing, her own heartbeat, the one sip of coffee swirling in her stomach.

Vasquez dropped her half-full cup in the trash by the coffee pot before storming over to June. June wouldn’t be surprised if she was sucker punched. Surely, she deserved it after what she’d just let loose. But she’d had enough. If she’d been in her right mind, she would have used far more tact to broach that topic, but it was already out there, and there was nothing she could do to take it back.

Instead of a punch, Vasquez gave her a hard look as she walked by and shoved her way through the door and out of the room, leaving pulsing anger in her wake.

June let out an audible breath as her fingers tightened around her paper cup still filled with hot coffee. “That was close,” she muttered to herself. “Too close.”

She didn’t wait long before leaving the break room herself and heading toward her office to start paperwork. She’d wait another thirty minutes before checking on Travis’s family once more and potentially heading home until she was called in again. It was her one weekend a month, and while she loved her job, it was occasionally taxing. She’d spent a good amount of time avoiding Vasquez in the past few years, and it seemed as though she’d have to up her game for a bit while Vasquez cooled down.

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Meet the Author

Adrian J. Smith has been writing nearly her entire life but publishing since 2013. With a focus on women loving women fiction, AJ jumps genres from action-packed police procedurals to the seedier life of vampires and witches to sweet romances with a May-December twist. She loves writing and reading about women in the midst of the ordinariness of life.

AJ currently lives in Cheyenne, WY, although she moves often and has lived all over the United States. She loves to travel to different countries and places. She currently plays the roles of author, wife, mother to two rambunctious kids, and occasional handywoman. Connect with her on Facebook, Twitter, or her blog.

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New Release Blitz ~ Dream Demon by Alyssa Rabil (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Dream Demon By Samantha Cayto

General Release Date: 26th October 2021

Word Count: 33,173
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 123

Genres:

ANGELS AND DEMONS
BONDAGE AND BDSM
CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
GAY
GLBTQI
HALLOWEEN

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Book Description

Sometimes nightmares turn into dreams come true.

Colby is new to the BDSM scene and longs for a Master to take control and show him the pleasure that can be found in pain. When he receives a Halloween invitation to play from a mysterious man, he takes the risk of delving into an unknown world.

Sebastian is a blood demon masquerading as a human Dom. Unlike others of his kind, he strives to fill his need ethically instead of preying on humans. He seeks consent to satisfy his urges and knows how to woo Colby with patience. The only thing he fears is whether or not his new sub will be able to accept him as he truly is.

Trusting Sebastian is easy, even as Colby’s dreams are plagued by an unknown shadow that attracts him as much as it scares him. Sebastian needs to build trust before revealing his true nature. He thinks he has all the time he wants, but he’s about to learn that even demons cannot control their fate.

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of blood, pain and wax play.

Excerpt

The creature gained on him. As Colby dashed through the winding, narrow alleys, the sound of the steady, measured steps behind him grew louder. No matter how fast he ran, his heart thumping, his breath labored, his pursuer grew closer, not farther away. He bit back a whimper, determined not to show the terror that wanted to scream out. There was nowhere to escape to, no end to the twisting path he traveled. He would not make it. He would be caught. Then what? A shiver racked his body. Pain with a hit of pleasure weaved within. That reaction scared him more than anything else. He strained to run faster. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as hot breath wafted over him. The scent of it should have been repulsive, fetid and evil, yet it wasn’t. It smelled exotic, like toasted spices for mulled wine. Instead of shivering with fear, he felt almost cocooned in some safe, warm place—with a spike of arousal. It made no sense.

What is wrong with me?

Colby bolted up into a sitting position, his breath caught and pain lanced through his chest. His heart pounded in a skipping tattoo that scared him into thinking he might be having a heart attack. He rubbed his palm over his sweat-coated pec and tried to rein in his breathing. Just a dream. Just a dream. That reassurance wasn’t enough to calm his body. Logic and truth be damned. The dream had felt so real and vivid, both the fright and the excitement. The evidence of the conflicting effects was on display. Below his ribcage against which his heart knocked, the twisted bedsheet was tented by his cock. That was nothing new. It was how he woke every morning—hard. But he wasn’t usually so achingly so, his balls cramping with the need for release.

Instead of waiting to deal with his dick in the shower, Colby wriggled his hand under the covers and clasped the shaft with clammy fingers. A few quick tugs had him coming with such force that he doubled over. Fragments from his dream danced inside his head as he worked his cock, goosing the pleasure and forcing him to stifle a moan. He didn’t want his roommate to hear—not that Marquis would care. Colby had never met anyone less inhibited than him. He could hear Marquis puttering in the kitchen, the apartment being small. If it were summer, the guy would be buck-naked, wearing only an apron to protect his precious assets. Colby was different, though. He couldn’t quite shake all the primness of his Midwestern upbringing.

Besides, it was almost shameful how aroused he’d been. Although he’d worked hard to accept his submissive and masochistic needs as nothing to feel guilty about, something about how he’d almost welcomed the nameless, faceless thing that had chased him in his dreams brought back those early feelings of remorse. BDSM was a consensual and often loving form of play. There wasn’t supposed to be real fear. Doms weren’t truly predatory, and yet…whoever had chased him in his dreams was different from any man he’d ever seen playing with ecstatic subs. There had been a menace that he’d instinctively felt and fled from. He should have only wanted to escape, but part of him had wanted to be caught.

“It’s just Halloween,” Colby muttered.

The pseudo-holiday had been a verboten day in his childhood, an alarming celebration of the devil and all that was evil. His family had prayed for those foolish people who thought it was a silly night for dress-up and getting free candy. For him, however, it was liberation day. Six months ago, he’d finally come out of the one remaining closet in his life and had declared that he was a masochistic sub yearning for a Master to take firm control of him. He’d spent an amazing night in the one local dungeon in the Boston area, watching others play and longing to join them—not that he’d had the courage to approach any of the enticing men dressed in black leather… They’d all been occupied with boys of their own. It had still been thrilling. Too bad they weren’t holding another open house this night. Things might have been different. As it was, he hoped to find some similar fun being held somewhere—or perhaps if he dressed in the clothing he’d purchased a few days ago at a sex shop, he might attract the right kind of man.

“Yeah, right. As if you’ve gotten any braver over the summer.”

The self-admonishment chased away the last remnants of his dream. Colby untangled himself from the sheet and stripped it off the bed before heading to the bathroom. He stuffed the soiled bedding in the hamper and hopped into the shower. That hot spray beating down perked him up and he would have loved to have lingered there. But water cost money and he and Marquis had precious little, so, he washed quickly and got out.

Wiping away the condensation on the mirror, he stared at his own reflection. Even wet, his nearly white-blond hair color was visible, and there was still a smattering of freckles on his pale cheekbones. Marquis had said when they’d first met that Colby was the whitest white boy he’d ever seen. There was no denying that, but Colby also knew that he was prettier than perhaps a boy should be. Certainly the bullies back home had thought so, jeering at him while they’d tried to push his face into their laps. It’ll be just like having a girl blow me, the instigator had said to be clear that, unlike Coby, he wasn’t gay. The taunting echoed in Colby’s head as it did from time-to-time, even though he was miles away from that life and comfortable in his own skin now. And he’d escaped—that assault and others, the endless praying of the congregation trying to make him ‘right’ with the Lord, as well as his family’s condemnation. He was an adult, living on his own and making the rules by which he lived. Looking back accomplished nothing.

He returned to his literal closet of a room and threw on jeans and an old sweater. The apartment was chilly. Heat was another expense they had to manage and growing up on a Nebraska farm meant that he could handle the cold. Marquis, poor guy, would be miserable for the next six months. Following delicious smells, Colby found his roommate plating up breakfast.

“Is that French toast?” Perhaps the smell of cinnamon had influenced his dream. Yeah, that’s it. Appreciation for his friend’s cooking had infiltrated the more menacing aspects of his visions.

Marquis put the plates on the counter that separated the galley kitchen from the rest of the room that served as their communal living space. “What can I say? I woke up with a fierce taste for it.”

Colby poured a mug of coffee, laced it with a cheap cream substitute and sat in his usual spot. He downed half of his coffee before forking a piece of his meal. “Hmm, thanks. This will fortify me for work and keep away the temptation to get something there.” He had a late afternoon shift at the coffee house he worked in, and even with his employee discount, the pastries cost more than he could budget for.

Marquis joined him. “Yeah well, I’m due at the gym in an hour. I’m going to have to get in some extra workout time of my own if I want to keep this off my hips. No one likes seeing a chunky guy mixing their healthy smoothies.”

Colby snorted. As thin as he was, Marquis was even more so without even trying that hard. A few pieces of French toast weren’t going to change that. “And I should go for a run before starting my shift.” He wouldn’t be done until closing at ten at night, and there was no way he wanted to run by himself so late. The South End of Boston was a pretty safe neighborhood, but still…

“Mm-m.” Marquis gestured toward the front door with his mouth full. After swallowing, he said, “I got the mail earlier and there’s something interesting for you.”

“Me?” Colby frowned. The only mail he got was junk. His bills were paperless, and no one wrote to him…ever.

“Yup, I was tempted to open it myself. If it’s junk, someone spent a lot on it.”

Curiosity had him leaving his delicious breakfast and going to the small table where they put the mail. He spotted the envelope immediately. It was black and thick, with gold lettering in a fancy script with his name and address clearly written. It was obviously for him unless some other Colby Taylor had lived in this very apartment at some point. He reached for it, then paused. A strange feeling stole over him, as if he were about to take some monumental step—that once he opened this letter, his life would never be the same.

Ridiculous.

He snatched up the envelope before he could think any more of it and flipped it over. The back flap was sealed in an old-fashioned way with black wax and short red ribbons dangling below. A stylized S and R were embossed within the wax. Colby held it close to his face to study the unusual markings. As he stared at them, he felt as if he were falling into some dark tunnel, being pulled into the seal, into the envelope itself. His world tilted for just a second before he blinked the feeling away and took a deep breath to ground himself.

Too much caffeine, too quickly, that’s all.

“What’s it say?” Marquis’ impatient voice called from the counter.

Colby broke the seal quickly before he could think better of it and pulled out a stiff invitation written in blood-red ink on cream paper bordered in black.

Mister Colby William Taylor,

You are hereby invited to play at a party, to be held at the Mayflower Dungeon this All Hallows’ Eve at 9 p.m. Dress optional

Come if you dare

Sebastian Reeves

There was no address given. Then again, there didn’t need to be. He knew where to find the place. His heart pounded, much as it had in the aftermath of his dream. The French toast sat heavy on his now slightly queasy stomach. But that wasn’t the only reaction to seeing the invitation. His dick had hardened instantly, pressing painfully against his fly with aching balls, as if he hadn’t come a mere fifteen minutes before. His hands shook slightly as he grasped the card and the envelope fluttered to the floor.

“Come on. What’s it say?” Marquis snatched the invitation from Colby and whistled. “Holy shit! Isn’t this the place you went last April?” When Colby could only nod, his roommate gave him a sly smile. “You didn’t tell me you made a friend there.”

Colby blinked slowly. “I didn’t. I-I just watched. I don’t know who this guy is or why he’d send me an invitation to play.” He remembered something. “Oh, I did give my contact information, because you can’t get in without filling out a waiver. I never heard from them, and I didn’t expect to.” The prices for joining the club were too steep for him, so it had been a relief not to get solicitations in the months since. There was no sense in torturing himself—ha ha—with something he couldn’t have.

“You must have met this Reeves guy. Why else would he invite you?” Marquis pressed.

Colby shook his head. “No, I didn’t. Other than the man at the entrance, I didn’t speak to anyone. I have no idea who he is.”

Marquis handed him back the invitation. “Huh. Well, you obviously made an impression on this dude. I can’t imagine why it would take months to contact you, though. Maybe he just got out of a relationship or he’s a Halloween freak.”

“Is there such a thing? I mean, is it a fetish or something?” There was a lot about the world of BDSM that Colby still didn’t know about.

His roommate shrugged. “How would I know? But isn’t there a fetish for everything? What are you going to wear?”

Colby frowned. “I’m not sure I’m going.” As tempting as it was to check out the party, there was a distant alarm bell ringing inside his head.

“Seriously? I thought this was your jam. Why wouldn’t you?” Marquis stooped to sweep the envelope off the floor and waved it in front of Colby’s face. “And this takes bank. I bet the dude’s from Beacon Hill or one of the flush suburbs. It couldn’t hurt to have a rich boyfriend.”

“Oh, please. You know I’m not looking for a sugar-daddy.” But he was looking for a play partner, if only for one night. His cock pulsed at the idea of finally being under a man’s control and feeling the exquisite pleasure of pain inflicted by someone who knew what they were doing.

‘Oh please’, yourself,” Marquis scoffed. “Aren’t you the one longing for a husband and a dog in some nice condo around here?”

Colby smacked the guy in the arm without any heat. “That’s not the same thing.”

“Isn’t it? In those dreams of yours, do you still sling lattes for minimum wage and measly tips? Just because he’s put a ring on it, doesn’t mean he isn’t a sugar-daddy.”

“You’re such a cynic.” Even as he laid the charge against his friend, Colby had to admit there was truth in it. When he thought about his future, the idea of kneeling and taking punishment in a home that Colby kept for his Master made his heart stutter with joy.

“I’m not sure I’m going,” he reiterated, even though, before the last word was out of his mouth, he knew that was a lie.

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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 ~ Sea of Love by Nic Starr

Title: Sea of Love

Author: Nic Starr

Publisher: Independently Published

Cover Artist: Covers by Jo

Release Date: 10/20/2021

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 45,000 words

Genre: Romance

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Description

The cruise of a lifetime. A reality TV show about romance. Falling in love is inevitable.

Evan Williams is the type of guy to stick by his friends, especially when they’ve been hurt and need a favour. And if that favour involves the cruise of a lifetime, then how can he say no? Even when it means pretending to be a devoted boyfriend to Amber and having their fake relationship play out on a reality TV show for all the world to see.

Realising his boyfriend is a conceited jerk and dumping him doesn’t stop Harry Bishop from winding up as one half of a supposedly loved-up couple on the Sea of Love TV show. And if that’s not bad enough, he’s faced with temptation in the form of Evan, the perfect blend of boy-next-door-meets-sexy-stud he once crushed on. It’s going to be a long two weeks.

Two weeks of competitions, challenges, and confrontations. They’re here to take out the Sea of Love title—just not with each other—and there can only be one winner. But it turns out that true love isn’t about winning a contest; the real prize comes when you follow your heart.

Sea of Love is a feel-good romance featuring hidden attraction, fake relationships, and friends-to-lovers.

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Meet the Author

Nic Starr lives in Australia where she tries to squeeze as much into her busy life as possible. Balancing the demands of a corporate career with raising a family and writing can be challenging but she wouldn’t give it up for the world.

Always a reader, the lure of m/m romance was strong and she devoured hundreds of wonderful m/m romance books before eventually realising she had some stories of her own that needed to be told!

When not writing or reading, she loves to spend time with her family–an understanding husband and two beautiful daughters–and is often found indulging in her love of cooking and planning her dream home in the country.

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New Release Blitz: Pest Control by CD Habecker and Luna Nyx (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Pest Control

Author: CD Habecker and Luna Nyx

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 10/19/2021

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 52200

Genre: Paranormal, LGBTQIA+, gay, PNR/wolf shifter, hunters, disabilities, humorous, illness/disease, interspecies, mental illness, rivals to lovers, fisting, knotting, #ownvoices

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Description

Rhys has a simple life in the backwoods. All he needs is his trusty compound bow, impressive book collection, warm cabin, full food cellar, and himself. So, when Rhys discovers a sly wolf stealing his kills, which are supposed to last him through the coming winter, he’s forced to set a trap and kill the pest.

But, instead of the wolf, Rhys finds a mysterious (and naked) man named Everett.

After learning Everett has nowhere else to go, Rhys hesitantly invites him to stay and heal. But he doesn’t get much time to adjust to life with his eccentric (and stupidly handsome) house guest, not when winter arrives early and with a vengeance.

Cooped up in the cabin together for months, will Rhys learn to love himself and another? Or will hidden truths and empty stomachs snuff out the flames of love and life?

Excerpt

Pest Control
C.D. Habecker and Luna Nyx © 2021
All Rights Reserved

Rhys pulled the string of his compound bow back taut, his hands steady as he readied his arrow. Tucked as he was behind the thick foliage, the buck’s tawny coat was well camouflaged in the autumn hues, making aiming for his target difficult. Though, it also benefited Rhys; combined with being downwind of the magnificent creature, the foliage kept him just as hidden.

The buck, completely unaware of his presence, stepped out enough to bend its graceful neck to drink from the trickling stream. Still on guard, cautious as animals of prey always were, its ears flickered at the tiniest of noises, its muscles tensed and ready for flight at any moment.

Rhys had only one chance at getting this right.

One wrong move, and the buck—a good month’s worth of venison dinners—would disappear into the forest, never to be seen again.

This wasn’t Rhys’s first rodeo, not in the slightest, yet he couldn’t help the nervous hitch in his quiet, slow breathing when it seemed, for a moment, that the buck had seen him. Its head jerked up and turned, dark eyes looking straight in his direction. It didn’t flee, only stared ominously as if caught in a truck’s headlights. Rhys knew he wouldn’t get a better chance than this one.

It was always a strange feeling to look into the eyes of his prey, of something he was going to kill. Ignoring the shudder that rolled down his spine, he took the shot anyway. Releasing his grip on the string, he allowed his arrow to take flight in a silent, quick whirr through the air.

Before the buck could even blink in reaction, the sharp metal arrowhead lodged deep where the shoulder of its front leg met its torso, cutting through thick layers of fur, skin, fat, and muscle—and hopefully its heart or lung, maybe even shattering its shoulder. Rhys had counted on his aim making the cleanest, quickest kill, one that would keep the animal’s suffering at a minimum.

The buck immediately took off running down the stream with a loud startled noise, and so did Rhys, chasing after his wounded prey. Still much faster than he was, even with its injury, the buck disappeared into the trees. Leaving a trail of blood and crushed foliage in its hasty retreat, it led the hunter on through the forest for what seemed like at least a good few miles.

But, when Rhys finally made it to the end of the blood trail, there was no buck in sight, only pools of blood mixed in with the muddy ground, and hoofprints leading off deeper into the forest, away from the stream. Rhys furrowed his eyebrows as he knelt beside them and traced their outline with his fingers.

Not hoofprints, he realized with an angry huff—wolf prints, and familiar ones at that, the large canine’s paws unmistakable to his trained eyes. Streaks of blood followed alongside them, which left Rhys with only one answer.

“It’s you again, huh?” he grumbled through gritted teeth, digging his fingers into the wet mud, replacing the print with his own.

This wasn’t the first time the wolf had stolen his kill. In fact, it was the fifth time this season. Rhys thought that by traveling far in the opposite direction he normally took toward his trusty hunting perch, he’d be able to avoid the bane of his existence, but yet again, he had been outsmarted.

It was as if the thieving canine had been following him, stalking him even, to drag away his kills, mooching off of his hard work and dedication. The reoccurring situation pissed him off to no end, especially when winter was only a mere month or two away from turning the landscape white and cold.

He needed this kill, needed the other four lost kills as well, to keep himself from starving in the dead of winter when it would be next to impossible to do any sort of hunting. This late in the game, his food storage cellar should be full already; he shouldn’t have spent all of his time hunting when firewood and water needed to be collected and stored, and his fall vegetable harvest needed to be pickled.

With how things were looking now, it was loud and clear: Rhys was utterly and completely fucked.

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Meet the Author

C.D. Habecker is a bisexual woman residing in Portland, where she is pursuing a BFA in fiction writing at Portland State University. Ever since she was a child, C.D. has been an avid writer and reader. Writing fanfiction helped her realize her passion for creating queer romances and spinning familiar tropes. Her favorite trope is any type of animal shifter or hybrid, with magic coming in a close second. C.D. strives to give good representation to the queer as well as disabled communities, often featuring characters who share her mental and physical illnesses. She believes that not every queer story needs to focus on the struggles and hardships of being queer, as there is more to a queer person’s life than that. Everyone deserves a sweet yet deeply nuanced romance they can relate to, as well as swoon, cry, and laugh with.

C.D. spends her days writing, reading, playing with her dogs, listening to BTS, and thrifting for her vintage clothing business. Visit C.D. on Twitter.


Luna Nyx is an asexual lesbian young adult living in the Denver area of Colorado. She’s currently studying to become a Vet Tech, and writes on the side as means to pursue her creative passion. She fell out of love with writing and reading as an adolescent because growing up with ADHD made school a big challenge for her, and she’d begun to associate her passions with failure and disappointment. However, after meeting C.D. Habecker, Luna rediscovered her passion for literature. Inspired by her struggles growing up and the lack of decent LGBTQIA+ representation in media, Luna writes stories to show people with neurodivergence and “queer” identities that they aren’t alone.

Luna currently lives at home with her parents and spends her days studying in college, lovingly annoying her three pet cats, and burying herself in her musical and artistic passions. Visit Luna on Twitter.

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New Release Blitz: Off the Deep End by Lizzie Strong (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Off the Deep End

Series: Harperville Horrors, Book One

Author: Lizzie Strong

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 10/19/2021

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Male/Female, Female/Female

Length: 71600

Genre: Young Adult Horror, LGBTQIA+, Cthulhu, small town, high school, detective, horror, paranormal activity

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Description

Harperville used to be a small, quiet town until the storm clouds rolled in over Rainbow Cove.

Days and events begin to mix up, lunchrooms turn to warzones, carved-up cultists are fished out of the water from the dock, and at the center of the madness is Queenie Lowe. A high school senior whose only wish is to get out of this place. Her world is flipped upside down when she meets her new neighbor, the mysteriously charming Lulu.

As Harperville descends into chaos, Detective Levi Earlington fights to make sense of a case that is unsolvable without help from the others on the force. Despite his best efforts, he has only one lead: the badge of Queenie’s dead father that no one will talk about. Queenie and Levi battle the horrors of Harperville to find who is truly behind it all… Even if it costs them their sanity.

Excerpt

Off the Deep End
Lizzie Strong © 2021
All Rights Reserved

Prologue
“I just need a few photos for her missing person’s file.”

In a tiny house on a miniscule yard, at the end of a dead cul-de-sac, sat a detective with the missing girl’s grandmother. Levi Earlington perched himself on top of a dusty knitted blanket, feet crossed, hands full of photos of the girl. His locs were tucked neatly behind him and his button-down pressed expertly, even down to the seams. His clean suit covered up the bruises along his knuckles and hands. Multiple victim’s blood lingered underneath his nails. Levi raced to find any person left in this world who could help him find Queenie.

Estelle Lowe sobbed silently over a box as she dug through more Polaroid images. Her aged fingers trembled as she plucked out a larger photo at the bottom of the box. She gasped, a weary smile upon her lips as she stared at the photo. Levi could see through the back side of the photo that Queenie Louise Lowe was once a beautiful, young girl. No more than seventeen, with box dyed hair that hinted at a rainbow underneath thick black tresses, and a fake pink heart jewel upon her right cheek. Estelle tenderly handed the photo to him.

“She was such a good girl,” Estelle confessed in one breath.

“Ma’am, we’re going to find her, I promise,” Levi cleared his throat, raw from shouting into the storm.

Estelle’s face warmed, her lips curling as she closed the box over hundreds of other Polaroids. It was a shoe box with scrap booking paper expertly wrapped and tucked over it with a plastic jewel on top. It closed with a satin ribbon and a tag hung off the side: “To Gran, to remind you when I can’t.”

Levi placed the small Polaroids over the large photo on his lap. Queenie had been missing for more than twenty-four hours.

However, Levi did not have the heart to tell Estelle that he personally knew Queenie wasn’t dead, not yet. The truth would break the old woman’s heart. She smelled of baked goods, the kind that takes strong knuckles to knead.

Estelle clapped her hands against her thighs and pushed herself up to her feet. Levi’s mouth dropped open an inch to speak up but stopped. She shuffled around him in staggered steps toward the kitchen. He spun to observe her in the miniature kitchen just inches from the living room. She groaned as she bent to open the stove and retrieve the tray out of it. The air flooded with the scent of fresh cookies.

Levi leaned toward the back of the couch. “Ma’am, we will find her.”

“I know you will try, dear, which is why I’m going to send you with these cookies. Nourishment for the troops.” She gingerly placed the tray on top of the oven and twisted the knobs off. “You know, the only thing I seem to remember these days are my recipes. And Queenie. Such a sweet girl. Shame really.”

“Ma’am?” Levi clutched the photos to his chest. His hands and legs trembled.

Darkness swam in her old amber eyes as Estelle dropped a ball of dough onto the countertop. Her expression hardened like stone, her lips thin and her skin paled to the point of being nearly translucent.

Estelle kneaded soft balls of butter into the dough. “She’s gone off the deep-end, you know?” Her voice wavered, cracking at the end. Her right eye twitched. Estelle broke her porcelain composure to show cracks within her stony expression. Her eyes stormed with dark flecks of charcoal; the left side of her face drooped much like a stroke. Her features contorted, unable to match on both sides. Her jowls wiggled with effort as she fought for control of her own muscles.

Levi lurched toward her, tangling his feet in the couch. He toppled to the floor with a thud and the room darkened around him. The scent of baked goods tainted with sour milk in his nose. He turned his head. All the hair on his body stood up.

His chin scuffed the floor when he peered under the couch. Blood pooled upon the fake wood flooring. The fabric of the couch dripped thick, viscous liquid. Fingers broke through the underside of the furniture and broken nails and pieces of skin dangled from the couch, all pointed to the back. There, shoved behind the couch, broken into pieces, Estelle Lowe gazed directly at him with her skin strewn aside. Her jaw dropped with a terrifying click of her bones against the floor.

A scream broke through the silence in the tiny house, on a miniscule yard, in a dead cul-de-sac, waking up even the beasts slumbering below the surface. Detective Levi scrambled to his feet, alone in the house with fresh cookies on the stove and no grandmother in sight. Footsteps over warped wooden floorboards sounded from the back of the house.

Queenie Lowe slinked out of the shadows. Her finger raised to her lips as she headed for the front door. “Detective, shh, she’s taking a nap.”

Levi bolted after Queenie. The door swung open before him, and he tumbled out into the fog alone. The blood on the bottom of his shoes colored the gray concrete around him. Everything in Harperville cast in shadows and fog. His body trembled and fear gnawed at every neuron in his brain. Harperville used to be such a quiet town. That is…until the storm clouds rolled in over Rainbow Cove.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Born a Marine Brat I moved from state to state for much of my youth. Books were the one consistent thing in my life. Split between the high fantasy and war novels from my father and my mother’s deep love for horror novels, it was only a matter of time. From a young age I would fill up notebooks and word documents. Adaptability came in handy as I’ve worked in many different fields: food service, retail, education, special education, management. I kept coming back to books. In college I fully came out to my friends and family about my Pansexuality. Many were supportive but confused on what being Pansexual even was. I learned representation is key, but I also want to write books about fantasy, adventure, and monsters. My work is best described as a little bit spooky, a little bit magic, and a whole lot of fun.

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New Release Blitz: Something Else by Alicia Thompson (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title: Something Else

Author: Alicia Thompson

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 10/19/2021

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 72400

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, romance, lit, contemporary, farmer, doctor, gay, bisexual, Australian outback, accident, slow burn, friends to lovers, questioning, tearjerker, out for you

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Description

When his father died, David Mulkerin gave up teaching in Sydney to come home and run the family farm in western NSW. He is driven by personal demons and family tragedy to see it through, despite his love of teaching and the ongoing drought and debt.

When David meets the new local doctor Martin James, there is a meeting of minds and dark pasts. Martin is intrigued by David’s closed demeanour and makes an effort to reach him. They strike up a friendship, able to understand the pain in each other’s past. When David discovers that Martin is gay, he feels duped and betrayed, but the revelation forces him to confront what it means to love someone and how sometimes we don’t get to choose.

Excerpt

Something Else
Alicia Thompson © 2021
All Rights Reserved

He’d felt the pull, but there was no pain. Yet. Only the livid blood running through his fingers, dropping to the ground like seed. Grabbing his wrist, he ran back to the cab of the ute, found a rag in the glove box, clutched it in his hand. The fleshy part of his palm just below the thumb was beginning to throb.

He walked back to where the cows were chewing the hay he’d torn apart. Shaking out that last biscuit with his good hand, he found the culprit. A jagged piece of fencing wire. Bastard. Better him than one of his cows.

By the time he’d driven through three sets of gates and juggled numerous gear changes, the pain was like a blade pushing through his palm to his wrist. He consoled himself that in his own experience the smallest wounds often hurt the most.

He ransacked the cupboard under the bathroom sink and found cotton wool and a roll of bandages. No Dettol. Reefing everything out onto the floor, he found a small can of antiseptic spray rolling around the back of the shelf. It was rusted and useless.

Still clutching the dirty rag in his hand, he headed out to the kitchen. He wasn’t much into hard spirits, so the ancient cooking brandy used for his mum’s Christmas cakes would have to do.

Back in the bathroom he slowly pulled away the rag. It grabbed where it had stuck to the wound and fresh carmine welled up through the rusty-brown muck. He turned on the tap and before he had time to think about what was coming, thrust his hand under. It was times like this he realised how limited his repertoire of swear words actually was. Catching him once, his mother had said, “That’s a lovely conjugation, dear, now take it outside before I belt you round the head.”

He could now see the extent of the damage: a gutter of open flesh, torn to a long triangle at the end, black in its depths. He glanced at the brandy bottle. Shit. He hugged it to him and unscrewed the lid. He was about to pour it when he chickened out and took a big slug instead. Then another. Gritting his teeth, he poured the rest into his hand.

Fang lay where he’d been left, staring through the screen door on the front verandah, his head on his paws, his ears pricked. The tan dots above his eyes gave him a perpetually surprised look. An anguished howl roared down the hallway. He lifted his head and waited.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Alicia Thompson grew up on a farm in country NSW. She has a Masters in Creative Writing from UTS along with some financial and accounting qualifications. She has worked as a bookkeeper, photographer, editor, adventure tour leader in the Middle East and China, business analyst, writing teacher and general herder of cats. Her published work includes numerous book reviews, travel articles, and short stories. She lives and works in Sydney. More can be found on her website www.aliciathompson.com.au.

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New Release Blitz: Dark Horse by AE Lister (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Dark Horse

Series: The Braided Crop Ranch, Book Three

Author: AE Lister

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 10/19/2021

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 64100

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, BDSM, pony play, age-gap, entertainment, humiliation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, over 40, second chance, reunited

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Description

Adam Marsland has a plan.

He’s been managing the Braided Crop Ranch for six years and wants to bring everybody he can find back for a week of games, competition, and celebration.

Henry Swift was a ponyboy at the BCR during its very first year. He learned to trot, pull a cart, and submit to his trainer. He’s never quite left the experience behind and is excited to receive Adam’s invitation to return.

But it’s not only the Ranch and its sex-positive atmosphere pulling Henry back to the seclusion of the Muskoka wilderness.

Ever since their first frantic and lustful encounter in the woods, Henry’s had a thing for Adam Marsland and his memories of his tumultuous time on the ranch have haunted him for years. Adam’s still at the ranch, and now Henry can go back and discover if the older man has any regret for the way things turned out in the past.

But the gymkhana Adam’s planning means the return of a plethora of ponyboys and trainers and Henry wonders if he will have trouble reminding Adam how much they wanted to be together back then, and how possible it might be for them now, in the midst of the excitement and testosterone.

No one ever said love was easy, but Henry is determined to make the most of his chance.

Excerpt

Dark Horse
AE Lister © 2021
All Rights Reserved

PROLOGUE

Six years previous:

“So, Adam, what do you think?” Kamal asked, stepping back so Adam Marsland could see the Braided Crop Ranch’s very first ponyboy decked out in the gear they had chosen together.

I was that ponyboy.

My name is Henry, and I remember that day with the clarity of an unexpected revelation.

I had come to the Braided Crop Ranch to explore the world of pony play in an immersive environment. The BCR’s advertising had been so professional and the website so comprehensive I’d thought the place had been operating for years. I hadn’t realized I’d be one of the first men to experience its unique business model.

Until Adam Marsland had phoned to make sure I’d be okay with being a guinea pig of sorts—one of three men under the BCR’s three trainers—to make sure the gear and protocols they’d established would work.

The Braided Crop Ranch took pony play and exhibitionism to the next level. A place where queer men could kink out in pony gear, work under a qualified trainer, and perform in pony shows for paying guest members, the BCR provided sex-positive people with a veritable playground of possibilities.

Adam had been professional and friendly on the phone, his voice a soothing tenor, immediately putting me at ease and giving me the reassurance that whatever happened, the BCR was run by people experienced in the world of kink and pet play. When I met him in person, I’d been smitten with his movie-star good looks, his capable manners, and his prim and proper style.

After putting me in harness, tail, and bridle for the first time, Kamal Salib had marched me to the back porch at the main house and called Adam out of his office to have a look. Upon seeing a fully outfitted ponyboy for the first time, Adam had been silent, nodding assent to Kamal’s words about how the gear they’d ordered worked perfectly and how excited he was to get started with my training, while I trembled with excitement at finally being able to explore my fetish with men who obviously understood.

Then Adam had come down the porch steps and stood right in front of me, his gaze holding mine as he reached to touch the metal ring of the bridle on my cheek with a steady, calming hand.

“He’s shaking,” Adam said, turning to Kamal.

“He’s excited. His cock is ready to bust out of that jock. I think we need to consider cages instead.”

Adam’s eyes widened as I almost combusted from that suggestion. Because wouldn’t a cock cage make this experience even more humbling? Then Kamal told me to keep my eyes down like a good ponyboy, and I’d had to break away from Adam’s intense gaze.

“Expensive,” Adam commented.

“Worth it.” Kamal smiled.

Then Adam let his hand slide over my chin and down my throat, over the leather collar and the chest straps of the harness, down my torso and belly to the rust-red hair that brushed the top of the jock. “You had to put a ginger in the gear first, didn’t you? Is this Henry?”

I held my breath as my eyes closed at Adam’s tender touch and his lips saying my name.

“Yes. The others are in the arena. But I had to bring Henry for you to see.”

“He’s exquisite, Kamal. Do they all look like this?”

“More or less. But Henry’s the sexiest in my opinion.”

I felt a young man’s pride at that assessment and stood taller.

Adam nodded, and then his hand was gone. “I’ll consider the cages. Good idea.”

I stared at the ground as Kamal asked, “You still partial to redheads, Adam?”

“You know me too well, Kamal,” he said before turning and walking back up the porch steps. “Take him to the arena.”

“Yes, Boss. But come and watch him trot later, will you? I’m sure he’ll want to show off.”

I heard the door shut as Adam went into the house. Kamal laid his hand on my belly and rubbed the defined muscle there.

“Pretty sure the ranch boss has a massive hard-on right now,” he said. “I think he likes you.”

I made a sound in my throat and tossed my head, jingling the bit and relishing the realism of my predicament.

Kamal gathered my reins and led me across the grass. “We have a lot of work to do, Henry.”

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

AE Lister/Elizabeth Lister is a Canadian non-binary author with a vivid imagination and a head full of unique and interesting characters. They have published many other books, one of which (Beyond the Edge) received an Honorable Mention from the National Leather Association–International for excellence in SM/Leather/Fetish writing.

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