Spellbound Dreams by Jessamyn Kingley - Release Blitz with Excerpt
Book Title: Spellbound Dreams (D'Vaire, Book 21)
Author: Jessamyn Kingley
Publisher: Self-published
Cover Artist: LJ Anderson of Mayhem Cover Creations
Genre: MM Fantasy
Trope: Fated mates
Heat Rating: 3 flames
Length: 82 139 words
Buy Links - Available on Kindle Unlimited
Amazon US | Amazon UK
Lured into a magical sleep, they must untangle the surrounding chaos to embrace a future together.
Grand Warlock Familiar Renny D'Vaire has a life he adores and is hoping for a mate who will not bring strife into his world. Renny, along with the rest of the D'Vaires, believes that his other half will be a dragon shifter, thanks to his magical beast form. Happy couples surround Renny, and he wants nothing more than to experience that joy for himself. However, Fate is full of surprises.
Protector Roriethiel of the Fae wakes up in an unfamiliar desert, uncertain how he arrived. His ample magic sapped, the rock he finds himself on is nothing like home. For weeks he stumbles along, searching for answers, and is unerringly led to the Council of Sorcery and Shifters. Rorie's single purpose is to return to his castle, but instead he discovers his other half.
Renny is unsure how to handle the impetuous Rorie or the fairy's desire to return to his realm. Torn between two worlds, Renny and Rorie find little common ground until they are lured into a magical dream. Chaos surrounds them as they unravel the mystery of what happened to Rorie, and although their attraction is intense and their feelings for each other grow swiftly, to succeed in love they must learn to trust that Fate has not led them astray.
Renny's mind was whirling as he led Rorie into his bedroom. Thanks to Dra'Kaedan, another bed had already been dropped into the space while Rorie was introduced to the D'Vaires. The Fae had enthusiastically been impressed by the different races in their household, and although his manner had been stiff at the Fallen Knights' Headquarters, it was becoming clear that it wasn't Rorie's usual behavior. Instead, he appeared to be a happy fairy who Renny would venture to guess was often excited.
"What are these marvels?" Rorie asked in a reverent voice.
Renny grinned as Rorie's fingers traced the navy wand Dra'Kaedan had given him years ago when he first started his collection. A glowing golden orb was at the top and, if touched, revealed a blue dragon inside. "It's my magic wand collection."
"You require a stick to cast?"
"Nope, but often in books and movies, they depict sorcerers using them. I've always thought they were cool, and once I told everyone I wanted to start a collection, my family made it their mission to add unique ones constantly."
"They are most lovely. So are your quarters," Rorie said. Ripping his attention from the wands affixed to the walls, he gasped at the sight of Renny's bed. Racing over, he ran his hand across the quilt Larissa D'Vairedraconis had painstakingly created for him. It was a medley of blues and the other colors of their household. "This is exquisite craftsmanship. You must have paid dearly for this artisan."
"Larissa is insanely talented. You met her and her mate a few minutes ago."
"What great luck you have to have such masters in your family."
"I'm sure she'll put something together that's just as nice for your bed," Renny offered. Rorie's mattress was covered with a plain white comforter and looked drab in the space Renny had decorated with Larissa's help. The sofa they'd piled with pillows that reflected the quilt had been pushed to the side, but nothing was cramped. "I'm going to get changed, okay?"
"Yes, fine." Rorie's tone suggested his mind was far away, as he'd returned to admiring the wands around the suite.
Renny grabbed clothes from his dresser and closed himself in the bathroom after removing his crown and cloak. Happy to be removing his uncomfortable attire, he wondered how to wrap his mind around Rorie. His mate seemed to think all he had to do was figure out how to get home, and it would delight Renny to return with him.
Renny didn't want to be a jerk, but leaving D'Vaire? The thought was unbearable. How could he ask Dra'Kaedan to give up their family? It was impossible for Renny to say good-bye, and he did not want to try. Renny tied his sneakers swiftly and closed his eyes to quiet his mind. It was too early to bog down their acquaintance with so many problems. The last thing he'd ever wanted was a contentious relationship.While he loved everything about Dra'Kaedan, it was not his dream to have a matebond fueled by the fiery arguments that his warlock enjoyed having with Brogan. Renny liked peace, and his goal was to have it. To do that, he had to remain agreeable and focus on one issue at a time. As he strode back into the bedroom, he promised himself he'd be no man's doormat either. Rorie would not be in charge; they needed to find compromises to persevere.
Jessamyn Kingley lives in Nevada where she begs the men in her head to tell her their amazing stories which she dutifully writes it all down in what has become a small mountain of notebooks. She falls in love with each couple and swears whatever book she wrote last is her absolute favorite.
Jessamyn is married and working toward remembering to start the dishwasher without being distracted by the scent of the magical detergent. For personal enjoyment, she aids in cat rescue while slashing and gashing her way through mobs in various MMORPGs. Caffeine is her very best friend and is only cast aside briefly for the sin better known as BBQ potato chips.
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Posted by Wicked Faerie's Tales and Reviews at 1/29/2021 10:00:00 AM No comments:
Lookin' for Mr. Right - A Contemprary M/M Charity Anthology - Blog Tour with Excerpt
Blog Tour & Excerpt:
Lookin' For Mr. Right: A Charity Anthology
Lookin' for love?
Finding love is never easy, but when these men go on their journey to find Mr. Right, we find out just how right it is. From funny and sweet to steamy and unexpected, these are sixteen stories you won't want to miss.
Look for love in all the right places.
Lookin' For Mr. Right is a limited edition charity anthology and all proceeds from this set will be donated to The Trevor Project.
Universal Link
Excerpt From Catching Kalen by Maya Nicole & Britt Andrews
His eyebrow lifted mimicking the corner of his mouth. "Monroe. And you are?" He sat back against the stool, cool as a cucumber, but there was something about him that made my heart race.
Annnnd that was ridiculous. He'd said like… three things to me, but it was really about the way he carried himself, like he could decimate a man with his brain or some shit. Fuck, the tequila was kicking in.
"Kalen," I replied as the bartender put our drinks down. Monroe slipped her a bill, telling her to keep the change. He picked up his glass of whiskey and motioned for me to do the same.
"Well, Kalen. What should we toast to tonight? New adventures? Good times?" An emotion I couldn't place flashed across his face, and I swallowed, my throat suddenly tight.
"All of the above," I rasped, pushing my glass against his before throwing it back, shutting my eyes as the liquid burned going down.
As I opened my eyes, I brought my glass down, and a little drop of liquor slid down my chin.
Monroe's eyes tracked its path, and before I could lift my hand to wipe it away, his thumb
swiped it off my warm skin.
I sat there frozen. What the hell was that? Blinking, I glanced around the bar, but nobody was paying any attention to the man who just wiped tequila off of my face with his thumb.
Since I was a glutton for punishment, I looked over at him. He was smirking at me. Smirking. All I could do was stare in fascination as he took the thumb that was still wet and popped it into his mouth.
Jesus Christ. My cock twitched in my jeans. I didn't know what was happening, but I felt really hot and confused… and hot. I needed to get out of there.
Founded in 1998 by the creators of the Academy Award®-winning short film TREVOR, The Trevor Project is the leading national organization providing crisis intervention and suicide prevention services to lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer & questioning (LGBTQ) young people under 25.
The Authors Involved include:
J.J. Riley & Suki Gale
A.J. Macey
Tiegan Clyne
Joanne Ganci
Kinkaid Knight
Logan Grey
Bee Murray & CJ Vincent
Helena Novak
Charlotte Brice
Aspen Black
Sariah Skye
Maya Nicole & Britt Andrews
Adora Crooks
Along with Inked Imagination Publishing
Power Plays and Straight A's by Eden Finley and Saxon James - Book Blast with Excerpt
99c BOOK BLAST
Book Title: Power Plays & Straight A's (CU Hockey #1)
Authors: Eden Finley & Saxon James
Cover Artist: Story Styling Cover Designs
Genre: Contemporary M/M Sports Romance
Trope/s: Brother's best friend/Best friend's brother, Jock/Nerd, Virgin MC, Hockey
***SPECIAL OFFER ***
Only 99c from January 28 - 30
Also available on Kindle Unlimited
Universal Link | Amazon US | Amazon UK
FOSTER:
"Look out for Zach and don't hit on him."
My brother's request sounds easy enough. Keep an eye out for his best friend on campus and keep my hands to myself.
Even if Zach is a quintessential nerd, who I've always thought was cute, I don't have the time to think with my … stick.
There's only one stick I should be focused on this year, and that's my hockey stick. My goal once I graduate is to get an NHL contract.
The last thing I need is a distraction. On or off the ice.
Only, keeping to the rules is harder than I thought it would be.
ZACH:
People confuse me.
And no one more than Foster Grant.
I've barely spoken two words to him in the whole time I've known him, but the second I step foot on campus, he's impossible to shake.
I can never anticipate his next move. And whenever we're together, my next move is a total mystery as well.
I want to give in to him, but that might mean coming clean about something I've never been bothered about before.
I'm still carrying my V-card.
And I think it's time to turn it in.
I throw my helmet against the wall, and it crashes to the ground with a loud thunk.
The anger, adrenaline, and urge to fight still boil under my skin. I didn't get a long enough shot at Morris.
I should be pissed I'm out of the game, but I'm not. I don't regret doing what I did one bit. I only regret letting him get a punch in.
What are his knuckles made of? Diamonds?
I run my finger along my eyebrow, and it comes away sticky with blood. Not a lot, but it stings like a bitch.
I need to get my skates off. I need to jump around and pace the room and try to get all this extra energy out.
All I was picturing while I was out there was the Zach I spent the entire day with last week—the one who smiles and jokes and isn't so tense—being bullied by that dickhead, and I lost it.
As I sit on the bench to undo my laces, the door opens, and I prepare for one of the coaches to yell obscenities at me for the next five minutes while the rest of the period plays out.
I don't even acknowledge whoever it is. I keep my head down and continue to unlace my skates.
"F-foster?"
My head darts up at the unsure voice.
There stands Zach, looking sexy as fuck in my jersey. His hair is messy like he's been running his hand through it, and his nerdy glasses frame his green eyes in a way that drives me crazy.
"How … how did you get in here?"
"Seth. He said we're your brothers and wanted to check on you."
Thinking of Zach as my brother makes me feel skeevy and gross, but I ignore it because I don't really care how he got into the locker room. It means a lot that he's here. "Is that what you're doing? Checking on me?"
He takes two tentative steps closer, and then, as if all at once, he decides to go for it.
Zach approaches and drops to his knees in front of me.
My breath catches at the sight.
Long, thin fingers run along the top of my brow and down my cheek. "You're hurt."
I huff. "I'll live." I might not live if he doesn't keep touching me; it feels so good.
I want to lean into his hand, but I hold strong. I don't want to scare him off.
"W-why did you do that?" he asks.
I could lie. I could tell him it's the sport and fights happen. But everyone out there knows that wasn't a typical fight. I targeted Morris from the start, and even though we were hardly on the ice at the same time, the second I got my chance to go for him, I did.
"Morris is a dick."
Zach tries to pull his hand from my face, but I don't let him. My hand covers his, holding it to my cheek.
He averts his gaze. "Seth told me you know … about him. And me."
"You and him. Wait, there was a you and him? Like, together?"
"No. He … I don't know if he's a special kind of asshole or what, but he …"
"You don't need to tell me. Seth told me enough."
His hand finally drops, and I let it. "So out there … on the ice …"
"It was for you."
"I didn't ask you to do that." His voice is so soft. So him.
"You never would," I murmur. "Morris has to learn karma's a bitch. He had no right to treat you like that."
"Will you get in trouble?"
"You shouldn't have—"
"Zach?"
His eyes meet mine.
"It was worth it."
Saxon James
Saxon James is an author from Aus who's obsessed with writing queer characters. She has a range of books from YA to adult and they all have one thing in common: swoony, sweet love.
When not writing, Saxon exists on a diet of coffee and chocolate while putting her KU subscription to the test.
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Eden Finley is an Amazon bestselling author who writes steamy contemporary romances that are full of snark and light-hearted fluff.
She doesn't take anything too seriously and lives to create an escape from real life for her readers. The ideas always begin with a wackadoodle premise, and she does her best to turn them into romances with heart.
She's also an Australian girl and apologises for her Australianisms that sometimes don't make sense to anyone else.
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Forgiven by Garrett Leigh - Release Blitz with Giveaway
AMAZON US | AMAZON UK | UNIVERSAL
Length: 66,000 words approx.
Publisher: Carina Press
Forgiven Series
Book #2 - Unforgotten (Out Feb 16) - Amazon US | Amazon UK | Universal Link
Also available to download in Audio
Book #1 - Forgiven - Audible US | Audible UK
Book #2 - Unforgotten (Out Feb 16) - Audible US | Audible UK
High school sweethearts Mia and Luke get a second chance at love in this brand-new contemporary romance from award-winning author Garrett Leigh.
When Mia Amour returns to England to open a florist shop, all she wants to do is put her lousy ex behind her and never look back. But getting a fresh start is easier said than done when her first love, the boy who once broke her teenage heart, strolls back into her life. HeÕs every bit as sexy as she remembers, and the urge to melt back into his arms almost makes her forget how devastated she was when he took off without a word. Almost.
Left with no choice, Luke Daley did what he had to do, leaving town to earn enough money to save his broken family, though it just about broke him, too. But now heÕs back, running his uncleÕs business and trying desperately to forget about Mia, the girl he left behind all those years ago. When he runs into her in town, the shock of seeing her again brings an intense rush of emotions: love, guiltÉand an overwhelming urge to find out if itÕs still as amazing between them as it used to be.
It doesnÕt take either of them long to give in to desire and discover the fiery passion they once shared burns hotter than ever. With each new touch, each moment of forgiveness, old hurts heal and the future theyÕd hoped for ten years ago becomes possible again. But their fragile connection is tested by a threat neither of them saw comingÑa threat that could end their second chance before it even gets started.
Garrett Leigh is an award-winning British writer and book designer.
Garrett's debut novel, Slide, won Best Bisexual Debut at the 2014 Rainbow Book Awards, and her polyamorous novel, Misfits was a finalist in the 2016 LAMBDA awards.
When not writing, Garrett can generally be found procrastinating on Twitter, cooking up a storm, or sitting on her behind doing as little as possible, all the while shouting at her menagerie of children and animals and attempting to tame her unruly and wonderful FOX.
Garrett is also an award winning cover artist, taking the silver medal at the Benjamin Franklin Book Awards in 2016. She designs for various publishing houses and independent authors at blackjazzdesign.com, and co-owns the specialist stock site moonstockphotography.com with renowned LGBTQA+ photographer Dan Burgess.
Website: http://www.garrettleigh.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/garrettleighauthor/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Garrett_Leigh
Posted by Wicked Faerie's Tales and Reviews at 1/27/2021 09:06:00 PM No comments:
The Reluctant Royal by Catherine Curzon & Eleanor Harkstead - Release Blitz with Excerpt and Giveaway
The Reluctant Royal Catherine Curzon & Eleanor Harkstead
General Release Date: 26th January 2021
Word Count: 93,492 Book Length: SUPER NOVEL Pages: 352 Genres: CONTEMPORARY, GAY, GLBTQI, ROYALS, THRILLERS AND SUSPENSE
As an unseen enemy draws near, a royal bodyguard must choose between duty and love.
Risking his life to save a princess is all in a day's work for Sergeant Joe Wenlock, a Close Protection Officer detailed to protect the royal family. After months of recovery following his brush with death, Joe's ready to return to duties. But Alejandro Fuente-Sastre, as infuriating as he is fabulous, is the last royal Joe wants to be assigned to.
Alejandro isn't quite the sort of queen that the British royal family is used to, but when Joe learns that Her Majesty's step-grandson is also drag bombshell Paloma Picante, it makes his job a whole lot tougher. But is there more to Alejo than sulking and sequins?
When Alejandro's life is threatened by an unseen tormentor who progresses from internet trolling to arson and violence, Joe must keep his charge safe from harm.
Living in close quarters with the man he shouldn't be falling for, Joe begins to discover his true self. But as Alejandro's enemy prowls ever nearer, Joe must make the impossible choice between duty and love.
Reader advisory: This book contains instances of homophobia and homophobic language, cyberbullying and threats, harassment, terrorism, drug use and abuse, Islamophobia and suicide. There are mentions of domestic abuse, including physical, emotional and gaslighting.
Joe took another sip of tonic water. He wished it contained gin, because being the only sober person at the table was hardly his idea of fun, but as he watched the bottle of champagne being passed around, he knew he didn't really want any alcohol anyway. He couldn't go back to work the worse for wear. Not after months of sick leave. Best foot forward, as his dad would say.
And it wasn't only his decision not to drink that made Joe an oddity at the table. These were all Wendy's friends, out for her birthday. Solicitors, legal types, who'd spent most of the evening already talking shop. Joe looked on, his mind on other things. Would he cope on his first day back? Would they trust him to ever do a good job again?
"So, Joe, we're taking bets on who you're going to be coddling next week!" Wendy put her second bottle of Prosecco on the table and settled into her seat. Her leg brushed Joe's momentarily and she shifted, putting air between them again. "Izzy thinks one of the Fergie duo. Barnaby's bet his bonus on Wills and Kate. I think it's going to be the queen. The top job for a top bobby!"
"I don't know yet." Joe shrugged. "Maybe one of the corgis?"
"I bet you do know, and you're teasing us!" Wendy's friend Jemima brayed. "Have you signed the Official Secrets Act?"
Joe turned the plastic stirrer through his fizzing drink, rattling the ice cubes against the glass. He didn't pester Wendy's friends about confidential matters, so why did they think he was fair game? "As you know, if I had, I wouldn't be allowed to say."
"Whoever it is," Wendy told them, "let's hope they don't put my poor old hubby in hospital again! He's getting too old to play the action hero!"
Wendy's friends laughed, and Joe tried to look happy, but he really didn't want to be reminded of the accident. The headlamps coming straight for him in the evening darkness—and after he'd pushed the Duchess of Albany out of the way, there had been no time for Joe to leap aside. Just that crushing pain as the car slammed into him. Joe had slumped over the bonnet and found himself eye to eye with the idiot who'd just tried to deliberately run down the duchess.
"He's not that old!" Verity giggled. She patted Joe's leg and he tried not to flinch. "And still in fine form, too, Wendy, you lucky thing!"
"Lucky old me!" Wendy's smile looked like a grimace. How would she know what form her husband was in when it had been over six months since they'd so much as kissed, let alone more? She refilled her glass and whispered to Joe, "For God's sake, have a real drink."
"Come on, you know I can't," Joe replied. "I can't risk it. First day back and all that."
"It's my birthday." Her pink lips grew thin and she drew in a deep, sharp breath, as sharp as her fresh blonde bob. Then she put her lips to his ear and hissed, "Stop showing me up, Joe, have a drink."
"I'm drinking a stunt gin and tonic. That's enough." Joe held up the glass. It had the brand name of a well-known gin printed down its side. "They do tests, you know. I want to be nice and clean when they poke through my bodily fluids, thank you very much."
"Barnaby!" Wendy subtly turned away from her husband, the centre of attention all over again. He was dismissed, just as he had been so many times over the five years of their miserable married life. "So, we're all dying to know how your Tokyo merger's going. It's all everyone's talking about. Tell us all the latest from the front line of big money!"
Joe sat his glass down on the table. The last thing he cared about was Barnaby and his bloody merger, which he'd heard snippets of for weeks as Wendy had made business calls at home. Barnaby this, Barnaby that, 'Barnaby's going places.'
So am I.
Joe nudged his seat back and stood to leave. Verity glanced at him, as if she was surprised he was going, but her attention turned to Wendy and Barnaby. Joe wasn't sure where he'd go, but he needed fresh air. He wanted to be away from loud drinkers, away from Wendy's carping. His head was pounding and as he stepped outside the pub, a car drove by close to the kerb. He instinctively jumped back, pressing himself against the wall behind him.
Calm down, Sergeant Wenlock, he told himself.
The night was cold, as cold as the pub had been hot, and Joe took a deep breath of autumn air. London tonight seemed even more surreal than ever, the streets a curious mix of the same well-dressed professionals who filled Wendy's group and those who had embraced Halloween, escaping the real world in the form of cats and devils, vampires and aliens, some already stumbling, others only just starting out. And there in the middle of them was Joe, who would rather be anywhere else but there.
Maybe Joe should've thrown aside his tweed jacket and sensible open-necked shirt for a costume. He'd have made quite a good Frankenstein's monster, maybe, though that said, when he'd first been taken to hospital and had plaster casts and bandages in places he hadn't thought possible, he'd have been a brilliant cursed mummy.
Joe decided to go for a wander. Once he was working again, he'd have little time to call his own. He'd take his freedom when and where he could. Music blared from pubs and bars, people laughed, taxis pulled up and disgorged their passengers. And up ahead, someone was shouting.
Bloody people, can't hold their drinks.
"Don't you ever, ever bloody do that again! Do you hear?"
It was a man's voice up ahead. Joe could see two figures, one in a black suit with a skeleton painted on it in white. He was wagging his finger—jabbing it—at the red-headed woman walking beside him in heels so high Joe wondered how she didn't fall flat on her face.
"It's so important to me, so fucking important, and all you have to do is just nod, and instead, you're pissing about, making a fucking joke of yourself!"
"I'm sorry!" Her voice sounded almost desperate and she recoiled from her companion's stabbing finger, jerking away as though it were the blade of a knife. She hurried after the skeleton when he stalked onwards, scooping up the silken hem of her shimmering red evening gown to follow. "Don't be angry, I'm sorry!"
"I'm sorry!" he mimicked. Joe could almost see him in profile. The man's face was disguised by makeup that turned his face into a skull.
Seemed a bit rich for him to be accusing someone of making a joke of themselves.
"The man's an investor in my film, and I wanted him to know that I'm serious about my art, and then you're there hanging over my shoulder, interrupting and gobbing on about God knows what!" The man clenched his hands. Even they were tricked out in skeleton makeup. "Why do you wind me up like this? You do it on purpose, for fuck's sake, then it's all I'm sorry! Well, you bloody well will be!"
"He was laughing too," the woman said, a fresh note of desperation in her sing-song voice. No, not desperation. Fear. "He was having a good time, you're not thinking straight! Just—please, don't be like this!"
"My thinking's perfectly clear!" The man gave a long sniff then, and Joe knew exactly what was going on.
The drugs are talking.
The man stopped where he was and raised his hand at the woman. The way she flinched back told Joe that this wasn't the first time it had happened. As she drew away, he saw her makeup clearly, a glamourous sugar skull in a rainbow of colours that nearly took his breath away.
"Please don't," was all she said.
Joe increased his pace. The man's raised hand trembled but in a split second he slapped the woman across her painted face.
Joe ran.
He was on the couple in only a few steps, and interposed himself between them. He didn't look back at the woman, but could hear her frightened breathing just behind him. "That's enough. Time for you to go."
"And who the fuck are you, James Bond?" the man sneered.
"I'm not going to stand around and watch a bully like you slap a woman." Joe clenched his fists, resisting the temptation to give Skeletor a taste of his own medicine.
"A woman? That's a fucking joke. She's a drag queen—a bloke!"
Joe turned to look at the woman.
A bloke?
Was she?
Buy Links
First For Romance
Eleanor Harkstead
Eleanor Harkstead likes to dash about in nineteenth-century costume, in bonnet or cravat as the mood takes her. She can occasionally be found wandering old graveyards. Eleanor is very fond of chocolate, wine, tweed waistcoats and nice pens. Her large collection of vintage hats would rival Hedda Hopper's.
Originally from the south-east of England, Eleanor now lives somewhere in the Midlands with a large ginger cat who resembles a Viking.
You can follow Eleanor on Facebook and Twitter
Catherine Curzon
Catherine Curzon is a royal historian who writes on all matters of 18th century. Her work has been featured on many platforms and Catherine has also spoken at various venues including the Royal Pavilion, Brighton, and Dr Johnson's House.
Catherine holds a Master's degree in Film and when not dodging the furies of the guillotine, writes fiction set deep in the underbelly of Georgian London.
She lives in Yorkshire atop a ludicrously steep hill.
You can follow Catherine on Facebook and Twitter and take a look at her Website.
Enter to win a FREE Catherine Curzon & Eleanor Harkstead romance book!
Catherine Curzon & Eleanor Harkstead Giveaway
ENTER HERE FOR YOUR CHANCE TO WIN A FREE CATHERINE CURZON & ELEANOR HARKSTEAD ROMANCE BOOK! Notice: This competition ends on 2nd February 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.
An Echo In The Sorrow by Hailey Turner - Cover Reveal with Teaser
Title: An Echo in the Sorrow
Series: Soulbound 6
Release Date (Print & Ebook/Audio): March 1, 2021
Length (Print & Ebook/Audio): 117,943 words
Subgenre: LGBTQ Urban Fantasy
Cover artist: AngstyG LLC
All buy links or pre-order links: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08R6BD3GX/
Forgiveness is a hollow prayer you only hear in your dreams.
Patrick Collins has spent years handling cases as a special agent for the Supernatural Operations Agency, even as his secret standing in the preternatural world has changed. He should have confessed to his role as co-leader of the New York City god pack when he and Jonothon de Vere took up the mantle months ago, but he didn't. Now that split loyalty will cost him at a time when he can least afford it.
Outmaneuvered, framed for murder, and targeted by the Dominion Sect, Patrick has to face a past full of lies to regain his freedom. Revealing the truth means he'll need to give up the life that has defined him. Everything he's fought to build with his pack is at stake, and losing them isn't a price Patrick is willing to pay, but some choices aren't his to make.
Jono knows they can't cede any more territory if they want to win the god pack civil war spilling into the streets of New York City. But the souls of werecreatures are free for the taking when demons come to town and angels sing a warning no one can ignore. When Jono's worst fear comes to life, and he loses the one person he can't live without, the only option left is to fight.
Facing down the demons of their past and the ones in their present, Patrick and Jono will learn the hard way that some sins never wash away clean.
An Echo in the Sorrow is a 118k word m/m urban fantasy with a gay romantic subplot. It is a direct sequel to On the Wings of War. Reading the first book in the series would be helpful in enjoying this one.
Exclusive Cover Reveal teaser:
Jono bit lightly at his bottom lip, the faint sting making Patrick's cock twitch with interest. "Not going anywhere. Won't let you go either."
Patrick couldn't bring himself to voice the fear that he might, and so kissed Jono again, because that was better than thinking about everything in his life he couldn't control. Jono let Patrick set the pace of the kiss—quick and hard, needy in a way Patrick only ever was with him.
Jono responded with just as much want, but the touch of his hands was careful and soothing against Patrick's body. One slid down his thigh and curled around the back of his knees to hike his leg over Jono's hip, pulling them flush together. Their cocks slid against each other, and the dry friction drew a groan from Patrick.
"Gonna make a mess of you," Jono promised.
Patrick hummed agreement, in no way capable of arguing against that. Jono had fucked him every single day since he'd been released from prison. Patrick couldn't smell the scent of Jono on his own skin, but he didn't care. It was a mark that he was pack, and he'd never say no to that or to Jono.
They both had a day packed with meetings, but in the soft morning light of their bedroom, their responsibilities faded away in favor of slow kisses, shared breath, and the warm slide of Jono's slick fingers jacking them both off together. It was easy and warm and gentle, Jono in no hurry even when Patrick pressed biting kisses against his collarbone.
About the Author: Hailey Turner is a big city girl who spoils her cats rotten and has a demanding day job that she loves, but not as much as she loves writing. She's been writing since she was a young child and enjoys reading almost as much as creating a new story.
Poz by C. Koehler - Release Blitz with Excerpt and Giveaway
Title: Poz
Series: The Lives of Remy and Michael, Book One
Author: C. Koehler
Publisher: NineStar Press
Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 65900
Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, Contemporary, young adult, sports, family-drama, gay, HIV positive, HIV, AIDS, in the closet, coming out, rowing, illness/disease
Even at an allegedly gay-friendly high school, being out isn't easy, not if you play a sport. Remy didn't just play a sport, he lived for a sport. He bled crew and rowed with his best friend, Mikey. He'd known him forever but was a year ahead of him in school and crew, varsity to his JV. But then something changed. They were on the way to a regatta in San Diego and suddenly they noticed each other. Remy don't know what happened. They'd changed in front of each other in the locker rooms all the time at school. But Remy'd never looked and suddenly all he could do was stare.
Remy thought Mikey felt the same, yet somehow Mikey didn't want a relationship. Whatever, Remy didn't have time for drama. They had a major regatta to prepare for. They make apps to help lonely young men to find temporary companionship, and let's just say, Remy enjoyed the summer before his senior year. Then everything caught up with him and it all came apart.
Mikey was furious, but if he didn't want a relationship, why was he angry? It turned out there was a price for playing around, and when Remy got sick, he had to wonder, where would Mikey be?
C. Koehler © 2020
When all this started, my older brother Geoff didn't know I was gay, at least not to my knowledge. I'd called him "Goff" when we were really young because I couldn't pronounce his name. He'd called me "Germy" because he couldn't say Jeremy. He still calls me Germy, even though everyone else calls me Remy. I still called him Goff, so I guess that was fair.
Goff was thirteen minutes older—we were twins of the fraternal variety—and he milked that older bit like a Holstein cow. Thirteen minutes, but you would have thought it was thirteen years. Anyway, he played football. He looked out for me, or at least tried, but he was and is straight as a plank. We wrangled a lot, still do, but he saved me from a lot of homophobic hassling, sometimes at the hands of his own friends, without even knowing I was gay, which was pretty cool of him.
"Teammates," Goff would say. "They're not my friends, not if they're giving you shit."
He was a good guy when he wasn't being an asshole.
That said, Goff never understood a fundamental part of me, at least not until I came out to him. I guess that was my fault though. How could he when I'd never told him I was gay? But how could I when I couldn't have borne losing my brother? He was my twin, the person I was closest to in the world. Losing him would've meant losing a part of me. We fought like cats in a gunnysack and it drove our parents crazy, but they never understood that we went to the trouble of irritating one another because we loved one another. We certainly weren't going to tell one another that. We were (and are) teenage males. Dad was a shrink. Dr. Babcock should've gotten that but didn't.
So anyway, Goff missed a major piece of who I was and everything that went along with it. Now I wouldn't say all teenage boys were sex-obsessed, just every one I've ever encountered. But he had all the sex he wanted and had no idea what it's like not getting it. For me, it was not being gotten. So, I was horny as hell in high school and about to burst. That was the start of all my problems, I guess.
Our family lived in Davis, an über-liberal organo-groovy college town about seventy miles from San Francisco. Davis had bought into Cesar Chavez's grape boycott, which I read about in history class; it made itself a nuclear-free zone, which was kind of a joke when UC Davis boasted a particle accelerator of its very own. Besides, what good would the declaration of being a nuclear-free zone have done? Protect the city if the US and the USSR had nuked each other? There were three major Air Force bases around the city during the Cold War. There'd have been a bright-blue flash and then nothing. Good luck with that nuclear-free zone. The city was also a declared sanctuary for undocumented immigrants. I could go on, but why bother? A homecoming prince even brought his boyfriend to prom one year. As a gay kid, I should've been golden in a city and high school like this.
But someone forgot to send my parents that memo, or at least my mother. Mom was a smart woman—she majored in chemistry in college and went on to become a drug rep for a pharmaceutical company after she decided getting a PharmD wasn't for her—but she was oblivious sometimes, especially where Goff and I were concerned. Of both our parents, she was the louder with the compulsory heterosexuality messaging, things like telling me I was morally obligated to take some unpopular (read: fat with braces) girl to the prom. She said it was my "gentlemanly duty" or some such bull, but Goff and I both knew it was because she herself had been fat with braces in high school. She wasn't doing it deliberately—trying to make me miserable—but she succeeded admirably.
Women in Mississippi had taken their girlfriends to prom, or at least tried. Hell, even in Davis a few years ago, the aforementioned homecoming prince took his boyfriend, but my mom? She thought I had to make life better for every desperate and dateless girl out there, just to restore some cosmic balance because her life sucked during high school. Why didn't she get that this was my life, my one-way ticket through high school, not her do-over?
When I said things like that, her response was, "I think you can take one evening out of your life to make a difference in someone else's." Given the essentially obligatory service hours necessary to get into college these days, I thought I already had.
My boyfriend could've plowed me on the table at Thanksgiving, and she would have still said that. If I'd had a boyfriend. Well, there was Mikey Castelreigh. He wanted to be my boyfriend. I thought of him more as a kid brother even though he was only a year younger. I felt like there was a big difference between a sophomore and a junior in high school, however. Mikey looked like he missed the puberty train. I had a left hand. What I needed was a close friend who was gay. Mikey fit that bill very well.
Even at good ol' tolerant, GSA-sporting Davis High, it wasn't easy being different. We were still teenagers. Being smacked on the ass with the gay wand when I was born didn't change that. I wanted to think Mikey understood that. I think what Mikey didn't get was why we couldn't be friends with benefits. Uh…because it would have been like blowing my brother? If I had a brother who swung that way. But then, as has been pointed out to me many times, I also saw what I wanted to see and not always what was really there. Or boats. I saw rowing-related things very clearly. It was life that tripped me up at every turn.
But telling my parents? Like that would ever happen. Hear that flapping noise? That was the pigs flying out of my butt, which would happen right before I'd tell my parents I liked the cock. I never got the best vibe off them where that was concerned. Sure, they had gay and lesbian, even trans, friends, but it was different when it was their kid, you know? They were on a need-to-know basis where my life was concerned. Coming out? Survey says: No!
Goff told our parents about a lot of things that went on his life—whereas I told them very little—but then he and I had very different relationships with them.
"So how's that working for you, Goff?"
"Shut it."
I smiled, but it was really more of a smirk. "Still think having the olds know every single detail's harmless?"
"You're really kind of a dick sometimes, you know that?"
"Everybody has to be something, I guess."
"Really? I thought you were more of an asshole."
He had no idea what he was doing to me with this conversation. I mean, the homoerotic subtext was barely sub. Sure, Mikey and I were going to die laughing about it later, but right then I had to bite my tongue, and that was kind of painful.
I looked at him for a few moments, totally expressionless. Just long enough that he'd gone back to his homework. Just long enough to make him squirm. "What? You're creeping me out."
"I could've sworn I heard you say stop sleeping in your bed when you sneak out to see your girlfriend."
Mom and Dad never checked on me. Ever. I never gave them a reason to. Goff? Too many. Neither of us was stupid enough to think pillows under the blankets would fool them, but me in his bed? Physically we were nothing alike, but at least I made breathing sounds. We had a Jack and Jill bedroom setup where our rooms met in a common bathroom. We locked the bathroom door leading into the hallway and put the pillows in my bed, I moved to his, and he was out of there. He always showed his gratitude.
"You… That's harsh, man."
"Times are hard."
Goff threw down his pen. "Why're you doing this?"
"Because it's almost summer, which means fall's not that far away, which means neither is the prom, and it's never too early to present a united front."
"You're really twisted, you know that?"
I shrugged. "And you know she'll try to get you to take someone besides your girlfriend, since you quote, unquote haven't been dating that long."
"They're not that bad," Goff said, sighing.
"Have it your way, but don't come whining to me when Mom does exactly that." It's not that I was smarter than Goff. I wasn't. But I was smarter in different areas, like sneaking. It was like he didn't have an ounce of guile in him. Apparently, I received both our shares. Somehow, and despite getting him into endless trouble when we were children, he still trusted me. Maybe it's because as we grew older, I got him out of scrapes, at least when I knew about them in time.
Maybe I shouldn't have complained. Goff got the same kind of nonsense from our parents, too, and never mind that he had a girlfriend. She wasn't even a cheerleader. She was supersweet and amazingly intelligent. He met Laurel because I brought her home to study for AP Biology I. It took him a few months of whining like an Irish setter, but they eventually took to studying each other's biology. I knew this because Goff was too chickenshit to buy his own condoms, so I had to buy them for him.
Speaking of shit of whatever species, Goff was in it because a teammate was caught dealing molly. Goff's friend slash teammate was busted by the cops at a team party. Oddly enough what our parents freaked out about was that Geoff had alcohol on his breath. He blew a 0.12 as a matter of fact. I think that was half again the legal limit. Yeah, hi, Mom and Dad, he was at a party where the host was busted for dealing Ecstasy. You maybe want to focus on the larger picture? Or maybe they were, because I knew for a fact my brother didn't and wouldn't take drugs. Anyway, Goff couldn't fart without them breathing down his neck for a while.
But if I'd known about the party, I'd have told him to watch his step, because rumors of drug-dealing by members of the football team had been flying around school for weeks. At the very least, he might've limited himself to a beer or two instead of getting trashed. Then Goff could've told the olds, "Sorry, Mom and Dad, I know it showed bad judgment, but I planned to call Germy to come and get me." And I'd have absolutely covered for him. For that matter, he could have gotten trashed, and I'd still have picked him up if he had warned me in time to cover for him.
Weirdly enough, they were totally permissive where I was concerned. They thought I was a late bloomer and hoped the talks they gave Goff about sex applied to me, too, because they made me sit down and listen to every single one of them, not that they contained anything I needed to know. But the last one? I couldn't take it anymore and I cranked up the sarcasm. It bugged Dad, I knew that for sure, and I was pretty sure I managed to irritate Goff, and never mind the fact that he was sick of those talks too. Goff already knew not to get his girlfriend pregnant and to make sure he was in charge of his birth control.
Except for the condom buying. I was in charge of that.
"Could you maybe shut up, Germy? This is bad enough without your sniping."
Dad nodded. "Please listen to your brother. I get that you may be too old for these, but you're not making this easier on any of us. If you stop, I promise this will be the last one."
"You've said that every time, Dad. Yet here we are, another ho-hum day in paradise listening to these riveting talks," I said acidly. "I think we've got a lock on the prevention of premature grandparenthood. Not much else, but babies are definitely one sexually transmitted parasite we can rule out. Maybe someday we can move on to spirochetes."
"Jeremy…" Dad said in that warning tone of his. It held a hint of a threat, but what did I care? I'd heard it all my life and it had long since ceased to have the desired effect. It was more proof that I was the changeling, the odd Babcock out.
These things were so stupid. Take today's lecture. Please. Dad actually had the nerve to refer to the labia as a butterfly. How the hell was I supposed to keep a straight face when confronted with that? Dad was going on about female anatomy again, trying to help Goff—and presumably me—locate the G-spot. I would never need to know, and based on the noises issuing from Goff's room of an evening, he already knew exactly where to find it. What I needed—what we both needed—was basic information on sexually transmitted infections. Anatomy had been covered in eighth-grade sex ed.
Yet this was vintage Dad, blithely charging ahead, with Goff in tow more or less willingly and me digging in my heels every step of the way. I could not say Dad never heard, if only because sound waves did stimulate his auditory nerves. It never changed his behavior, however, and trying to persuade Dad was like arguing with the wind for all the good it did, at least not once he had a notion fixed in his mind. Mom had some facility in managing him, but then, she had more experience. Goff and I were only teenagers, so what did we know? I was convinced that was how Dad's thought processes ran. The bizarrissimo part of it all was that Goff was the good twin whereas I questioned everything, fighting anything I thought absurd with tooth and claw. I had even overheard Dad say as much when he thought he was unobserved. Yet Dad—both parents, really—kept Goff on a shorter leash.
I thought this different treatment was because of our different sports, I really did. Football? Sure. Everyone knew the deal or thought they did. What they really knew was the reputation that came from a bunch of idiotic movies. Goff sure wasn't like that, and most of his football friends weren't either. But crew? They had no idea about crew, not really, and never mind the stupid amounts of parental involvement my club required. No, when Mom and Dad were in college, rowers were pale, muscular gods and goddesses who walked the campuses, ate obscene amounts of food after their early-morning practices without gaining a pound, and stuck mainly with their own kind. They told me as much. That my club's juniors program practiced in the afternoon must have thrown them off my scent, because I had a tan despite the sunblock.
Seriously, I got away with murder. Or at least I did the summer before my senior year, and the person I killed—or almost killed—was myself. After that? I lived on Cellblock Q.
NineStar Press | Books2Read
Christopher Koehler always wanted to write, but it wasn't until his grad school years that he realized writing was how he wanted to spend his life. Long something of a hothouse flower, he's been lucky to be surrounded by people who encouraged that, especially his long-suffering husband of twenty-nine years and counting.
He loves many genres of fiction and nonfiction, but he's especially fond of romances, because it's in them that human emotions and relations, at least most of the ones fit to be discussed publicly, are laid bare.
While writing is his passion and his life, when he's not doing that, he's a househusband, at-home dad, and oarsman with a slightly disturbing interest in manners and the other ways people behave badly.
Christopher is approaching the tenth anniversary of publication and has been fortunate to be recognized for his writing, including by the American Library Association, which named Poz a 2016 Recommended Title, and an Honorable Mention for "Transformation," in Innovation, Volume 6 of Queer Sci Fi's Flash Fiction Anthology.
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Running Lines by Jeris Jean - Release Blitz with Excerpt and Giveaway
Book Title: Running Lines
Author and Publisher: Jeris Jean
Cover Artist: Jeris Jean
Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance
Tropes: Celebrities, Workplace Romance
Themes: Overcoming the past, self-confidence, defying expectations
Length: 55,000 words/ 142 pages (ebook)
It is a standalone story and is the first book in a series.
Onscreen chemistry. Offscreen action.
Finn may look like a Romeo + Juliet-era Leo, but he's out to prove he's got what it takes to break the teen heartthrob mold. Grayson is a serious actor, with "serious" as the operative word, so he's not thrilled to find himself hopelessly attracted to his young new co-star.
Starring on a teen soap may have made Finn Everett Hollywood's latest "it" boy, complete with the 10 million Instagram followers to show for it, but does he have the chops to cut it as the newest cast member on television's biggest drama, Frost Manor? Finn's determined to prove himself as more than just as sex symbol and win the respect of his co-star, Grayson Winter.
Grayson is gorgeous, talented, and the celeb Finn has been secretly crushing on for years. Grayson is dedicated to his job. He has big aspirations to be Hollywood's best leading man, and he's willing to make personal sacrifices to get there. When his new scene partner is the charismatic and intensely distracting Finn Everett, Grayson is shaken loose from his single-minded ambition.
When Finn and Grayson start running lines, their off-the-charts chemistry has them wondering if big things are in store for more than just their careers.
Running Lines is an MM Romance featuring hot TV stars, Hollywood drama, and a sweet and sexy gay love story.
Not a single interviewer had failed to mention Finn Everett, and it was getting really damn old. He didn't want to talk about Finn Everett. He didn't even want to think about Finn Everett. That just led to Grayson thinking about sexy blue eyes and lean muscles and no. No. Nothing good would come of that line of thought. It was going to be hard enough to work with him everyday on the show and maintain his standards of professionalism.
As Grayson clung to his last shred of patience for this interview, he answered the question the same way he had all night. "I trust our showrunners and casting director. But I haven't personally met Finn Everett yet, so I don't have an opinion of my own." The words sounded colder, more robotic than he'd intended.
As if on cue, his agent Kayla's familiar voice broke into the conversation, interrupting the interview. "We can fix that, Grayson! You can meet right now." She was tugging someone by the hand and then shoving him into the interview right next to Grayson. The interviewer was clapping her hands in thrilled excitement, her smile widening to an even more frightening degree. Before he knew what was happening, he was shaking hands with Finn Everett, looking right into those dark blue eyes. There were only two words Grayson's brain could manage at that moment: Holy. Fuck. Finn Everett was gorgeous.
Gaining his composure was difficult, but Grayson was a professional actor, so he knew how to pull himself together before anyone noticed how dumbstruck he was at the sight of Finn Everett. He hoped. The interviewer was now asking Finn how it felt to meet Grayson. Finn was staring at Grayson with the oddest expression – it was almost like…admiration? Grayson felt himself hold his breath, waiting to hear Finn's answer.
Finn turned back to the interviewer, and he said smoothly, "It is an absolute pleasure. I can't wait to work with him. I'm sure there's a lot he can teach me." Finn smiled shyly, his eyes dipping to the carpet and then back up to glance cautiously at Grayson through his lashes. Grayson met his eyes briefly, and he felt a tingle in his belly. His lips automatically quirked up at the corners without his permission. What was happening? Why was he acting like a total fool all of a sudden? It had to be that this red carpet media circus had finally wore him down completely. He was exhausted and too warm. That would make anyone's head spin. That was totally it.
Thankfully, Kayla came to his rescue, grabbing both him and Finn by the hands and dragging them away from the interviewer, barking something about needing to get inside to take their seats. Grayson's head was dizzy as he finally stepped into the cool air conditioning of the theatre.
"Look at this, my two favorite clients making friends," Kayla said, smiling at Grayson and then Finn. "I had a hunch you'd hit it off," she added as she let go of Grayson's hand and dragged Finn further into the building.
Grayson was left in the entryway of the theatre, finally alone for the moment. He leaned against the marble wall behind him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady himself.
He was in trouble.
Jeris Jean is a life-long Minnesotan with an obsessive love of books. She has a master's degree in English Literature but didn't write her first novel until she was in her mid-thirties. Something just "clicked," and all fell into its rightful place.
Jeris is a lover of cats, coffee, binge-watching tv shows, her bffs, puzzles, knitting, white sunglasses, black nail polish, purple hair, and reading and writing like it's going out of style, especially mm romance.She lives with her husband, two sons and their cat, Fluffy Cat Love, in a lovely little suburb of Minneapolis.
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