Time Waits by C.B. Lewis Release Blast, Excerpt & Giveaway!

Time Waits

Series: Out of Time, Book One

Author: C.B. Lewis

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: April 27, 2020

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 109300

Genre: Science Fiction, British, gay, intercultural, PTSD, Science Fiction, time travel

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Synopsis

On the run from his former allies in 1943, Janos Nagy’s life is turned upside down when he stumbles through a mysterious doorway and finds himself in the hands of the Temporal Research Institute, a covert organization that verifies historical events through time travel.

The year, he is told, is 2041. Wounded, exhausted, and helpless, he’s in a time he doesn’t know and a world that has changed beyond his wildest imagination. Dieter Schmidt, one of the TRI linguists and historians, offers his aid in making sense of this strange new existence.

But Janos’s arrival has broken the TRI’s prime rule of non-interference. It’s not long until someone in the TRI decides that if the rule can be broken once…well, why not break it again?

Excerpt

Time Waits
C.B. Lewis © 2020
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
The heavy rain had lightened, which was a small mercy.

The moonlight, thin and sickly, barely broke through the clouds. The trees shone a dull grey in the darkness. Only the rustle of leaves in the wind and the cries of some small creatures out in the darkness broke the silence.

A soldier broke cover from beneath the undergrowth. He stumbled and slithered down a muddy slope towards the track. Grass and dirt tore beneath his boots, and he caught himself against the trunk of a tree to keep from falling, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

In the distance, he was sure he could hear the howl of the dogs, the hunting party. He gulped down a breath before running onward.

He was armed, it was true, but what was one shot against a legion of men? He could turn it on himself, but he had escaped death once. He had no wish to face it again.

Though rough and little used, the narrow track was easier than breaching the undergrowth again. He had to get as far ahead as he could. They wouldn’t continue the hunt much longer, not with the chill of night setting in, but they might follow just long enough.

So he ran.

His legs shook with each step, but terror drove him onward. If he stopped, even to catch his breath, he didn’t think he would be able to start again. If he stopped, he would die. If he rested, he would die. If he did anything but run, he would die.

Something howled in the night, and his heart slammed against his ribs.

It might have been a dog, but it could have been a wolf.

The wind was picking up, whirling around him, the icy rain lashing his face cut through with scalding tears on his cheeks. Running and weeping. No honor. No dignity. All he knew was that he wanted to live.

Ahead of him, the track broadened, which meant it was coming closer to civilization, to people.

He hesitated a moment before plunging off the path and back into the forest, branches whipping at his face and limbs. His foot caught on a root, and he fell, rolling down the slope. He crashed into a stream at the bottom, breaking through a film of ice and plunging into the frigid water below. The cold it cut to the bone, so sharp he couldn’t even draw breath to cry out.

Blindly, he tried to find purchase on the bank. He fell forward heavily onto the ground, a thin keen of pain escaping him as he crushed his left arm beneath him. Warmth spread from the limb. The wound was open again.

“Ángele Dei,” he whispered desperately, “qui custos es mei, me, tib…”

A shout cut him off.

Lights glowed, flickering lanterns visible, like fireflies between the trees.

He pushed himself onto his knees, keening in pain, and grabbed at the low branches of a tree to pull himself upright. Splinters of bark cut into his skin, fresh blood warm on his hands. His legs were numb with cold and pain, but he ran.

The bitter wind cut into his throat and chest. He pushed deeper into the thicker, denser undergrowth—somewhere to hide, somewhere safe, somewhere unseen. Thorns tore at his face and hand, and he tasted blood in his mouth.

He was scrambling over a fallen tree trunk when it gave way beneath him. His ankle folded under him, and he yelped, falling onto his knee. It was only when he fell that he saw the hollow beneath the fallen tree. A hiding place.

Breathing hard, he squirmed through the gap, the tree and ground tearing at him, at his clothing. It was a small space, tight and narrow, but enough to shield him. He pushed dirt up to block the opening, his nose and mouth full of the taste of moss and mud, and lay still and silent as the grave.

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Meet the Author

C.B. Lewis has been making up nonsense since she was able to talk. Now, she puts it into computers and turns it into books. She is chuffed to bits to officially be yet another one of the collective of authors from Edinburgh.

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Dream Weaver by Dez Schwartz Release Blast, Excerpt & Giveaway!

Dream Weaver

Series: Roam, Book Three

Author: Dez Schwartz

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: April 27, 2020

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 45400

Genre: Paranormal, celestials, death, dream world, dreams, Elementals, ghosts, magic, MM Romance, sandman, witches

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Synopsis

Ethan Roam has faced a lot of nightmarish challenges—finding out he’s a sandman, falling in love with the man who once hunted him, and thwarting attacks from The Order of Azoth, a secret occult organization set on using his bloodline to conquer the universe by controlling immortality. And the battle is far from over.

To defeat The Order and its leader, Phantom, Ethan must first find the original Sandman and then bring the fight to the Dream World. Saving the universe might be too tall an order for one dream creature, but with the help of his friends and some Celestial beings with questionable motives, Ethan just might be able to weave a trap of surreal proportions.

Excerpt

Dream Weaver
Dez Schwartz © 2020
All Rights Reserved

The Misguided Travelers

“Maybe it’s broken.” Ethan Roam, the sandman, shook the orb as though giving the device the magic-eight-ball treatment would bring it pulsing back to life.

“It had better not be. Technical support doesn’t exist for magical artifacts,” Mercury said.

Unsuccessful at reviving the device, Ethan set the orb down on the flattened surface of a nearby stalagmite. “I’m surprised to say it, but I really wish Chris was here. If anyone could fix this, it would probably be him.”

“The Sandman Orb doesn’t need to be fixed. You’re just a bad driver,” Mercury, the former vampire, Dacey, who was now transformed into a celestial entity, chided. Guarded, he turned a one-eighty to view what little he could make out about their dark cavernous surroundings. This wasn’t the first alien planet Ethan had transported them to. But without the Sandman Orb working to give them a proper idea of where they physically were, it was becoming the most foreboding.

“Well, it would help if I had the driver’s manual,” Ethan defended, referring to the Codex, which had been left behind in Grady Hunter’s study during the battle with the Hunters of Azoth, forcing them all to escape to the Dream World. “My driving doesn’t explain why the orb just stopped working all together.”

“Of course, it does. You took a wrong turn into an uncharted dimension. You’re off the grid, darling.”

“Sorry I didn’t pull over to ask for directions,” Ethan snipped.

Before he could add anything else to his sarcastic rebuttal, Mercury grabbed his arm in a protective manner and whispered, “Hide the orb. We’re not alone.”

Ethan scooped the archaic device up and stowed the orb away inside his jacket’s inner lining, thankful Grady had bestowed the hand-me-down to him. His boyfriend’s wardrobe had all sorts of custom pockets and restraints for portable weaponry, which Ethan found to be more and more a necessity.

A cluster of glowing eyes appeared in the darkness, followed by the sound of grunts. Ethan released a pulse of glowing blue dream energy from his palm to light up the space. The alien animal let out an annoyed squawk. Now that Ethan could get a good peek at the creature, he wished he hadn’t.

The alien matched the murky gray sediment of the walls around them and appeared just as bulky. Its long body reminded Ethan of a salamander, only several feet longer and the size of a large crocodile. Once its gaggle of eyes adjusted to the light, the creature used six legs to propel itself rapidly toward them.

“Ball play is over. Back to basics,” Mercury instructed. Mercury had no reason to worry for his own life, seeing as he currently held the title of Death. Instead, he’d be more interested in protecting Ethan’s.

Picking up on his meaning, Ethan opened a portal back to the Dream World. In the blink of an eye, he and Mercury left behind a confused, angry, and hungry alien life-form.

*

Luckily, Mercury noted, Ethan has mastered the art of landing on his feet and not on his face when traveling between worlds.

Mercury grinned his approval. “You’re improving.”

“Not nearly fast enough,” Ethan reminded him, producing the orb once again. At least now they knew for certain the device wasn’t broken since the orb glowed back to working order with the atmosphere of the Dream World to energize it. “And this thing is basically useless without the Codex.”

“There’s more than one way to navigate foreign waters. Might I refer you to the Age of Exploration?” Mercury patted him on the shoulder in encouragement.

“No need to ask if you had any luck. I see Vincent still isn’t with you.”

They turned to see Marcus von Rottal, the vampire, standing nearby, his hands casually resting in his pockets.

Mercury had reason to be wary of Marcus’s extreme interest. They were all in limbo until they could find Vincent Roam, Ethan’s father—the original Sandman. Unbeknownst to the others, Marcus was the reason for Vincent’s disappearance. He’d pushed Vincent into a portal out of unfounded jealousy. Mercury had guarded their secret in order to protect Marcus. However, the truth seemed destined to come out. Especially if they were successful in finding Vincent alive. Mercury imagined Marcus would want to put all his efforts into doing whatever he could to prevent that from happening.

As long as Mercury had known him, Marcus had put his own interests above everyone else’s. Nothing could stop him or deter him once he set his mind on something. Mercury would have to play his hand very close to keep Marcus from interfering or suspecting he mistrusted his intentions. And as unrealistic as his desire was, a part of him also hoped the others never would know the truth. Regardless of everything which had transpired to drive them apart in the last century, and as much as he’d shed the coil of his past life as Dacey, Mercury still felt protective over him. Or at least responsible for him.

“Marcus, darling! I’m so glad you’re here,” he lied. “Would you be a doll and fetch Grady and perhaps even the portly fellow? What’s his name again?”

“Arthur,” Ethan helped.

Mercury snapped his fingers in confirmation. “Yes! I have an ever-growing list of questions needing answers from those bookish occultist blokes.”

“Hunter wandered into the dream forest,” Marcus informed them. He often referred to Grady by his surname to slight him. “I was quite hoping he’d lose himself in there, but I suppose I’ll go fetch him out if I must. Must I?”

Mercury nodded.

Marcus pursed his lips in response before making his way into the fluorescent-hued woods surrounding them.

Knowing full well Ethan would question the need to interrogate the other men, Mercury went ahead and answered. “Who has read the Mechanics of Sleep Travel more times than anyone else, and even better, who helped write the damned thing?”

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Meet the Author

Dez Schwartz is a LGBTQ, Dreampunk, & Gothic Romance author and artist based in San Angelo, Texas. She holds a BFA in Studio Art and worked as a graphic artist, and a Director’s Assistant at a fine arts museum, before transitioning to writing full-time.

Her longtime love of Victorian spiritualism, gay literary fiction, and romantic comedies inspired her to begin writing all of the stories she wished existed.

When she’s not passionately crafting tales, she can be found drawing, researching, or traveling with loved ones.

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Legally Wed by Rick R. Reed Release Blast, Excerpt & Giveaway!

Legally Wed

Author: Rick R. Reed

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: April 27, 2020

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 68600

Genre: Contemporary, elementary teacher, gay marriage, grief, Lake Union, men with pets, receptionist, romance, same-sex marriage, Seattle, second chances, Washington State, wedding planner

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Synopsis

Love comes along when you least expect it.

That’s what Duncan Taylor’s sister, Scout, tells him. Scout has everything Duncan wants―a happy life with a wonderful husband. Now that Seattle has made gay marriage legal, Duncan knows he can have the same thing. But when he proposes to his boyfriend Tucker, he doesn’t get the answer he hoped for. Tucker’s refusal is another misstep in a long line of failed romances. Despairing, Duncan thinks of all the loving unions in his life―and how every one of them is straight. Maybe he could be happy, if not sexually compatible, with a woman. When zany, gay-man-loving Marilyn Samples waltzes into his life, he thinks he may have found his answer.

Determined to settle, Duncan forgets his sister’s wisdom about love and begins planning a wedding with Marilyn. But life throws Duncan a curveball. When he meets wedding planner Peter Dalrymple, unexpected sparks ignite. Neither man knows how long he can resist his powerful attraction to the other. For sure, there’s a wedding in the future. But whose?

Excerpt

Legally Wed
Rick R. Reed © 2020
All Rights Reserved

Same-sex marriage had just become legal in Washington State, and Duncan Taylor didn’t plan on wasting any time. He had been dating Tucker McBride for more than three years, and ever since the possibility of marriage had become more than just a pipe dream, it was all Duncan could think of. He thought of it as he gazed out the windows of his houseboat on Lake Union on days both sunny and gray (since it was late autumn, there were a lot more of the latter); he thought of it as he stood before his classroom of fourth graders at Cascade Elementary School. He thought of it when he woke up in the morning and before he fell asleep at night.

For Duncan, marriage was the peak, the happy ending, the icing on the cake, the culmination of one’s heart’s desire, a commitment of a lifetime, the joining of two souls. For Duncan, it was landing among the stars.

And for Duncan, who would turn thirty-eight on his next birthday, it was also something he had never dared dream would be possible for him.

Now, too excited to sleep, he was thinking about it—hard—once again. It was just past midnight on December 6, 2012, and the local TV news had preempted its regular programming to take viewers live to Seattle City Hall, where couples were forming a serpentine line to be among the first in the state to be issued their marriage licenses—couples who had also for far too long believed this right would be one they would never be afforded. Many clung close together to ward off the chill, but Duncan knew their reasons for canoodling went far deeper than that.

The mood, in spite of the darkness pressing in all around, was festive. There was a group serenading the couples in line, singing “Going to the Chapel.” Champagne corks popped in the background. Laughter.

Duncan couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he watched all the male-male and female-female couples in the line, their moods of jubilation, of love, of triumph, traveling through to him even here on his houseboat only a couple of miles north of downtown. Duncan wiped tears from his eyes as he saw not only the couples but also all the supporters, city workers, and volunteers who had crowded together outside city hall to wish the new couples well, to share in the happiness of the historic moment.

And then Duncan couldn’t help it; he fell into all-out blubbering as the first couple to get their license emerged from city hall. Eighty-five-year-old Pete-e Petersen and her partner and soon-to-be-wife, Jane Abbott Lighty, were all smiles when a reporter asked them how they felt.

“We waited a long time. We’ve been together thirty-five years never thinking we’d get a legal marriage. Now I feel so joyous I can’t hardly stand it,” Pete-e said.

It was such a special moment, and it was all Duncan could do not to pick up the phone and call Tucker and casually say something like, “Hey honey, you want to get married?”

But he knew he had to wait even if patience was a virtue Duncan had in short supply. On Sunday, when the first marriages would take place, he planned on bringing Tucker to their favorite restaurant, an unpretentious little joint on Capitol Hill called Olympia Pizza. There, amid the darkened and—for them—romantic interior with the smells of garlic, basil, and tomato sauce surrounding them, Duncan would propose, saying something clever like:

“I’m thinking about changing my Facebook relationship status to ‘engaged.’ Would you mind?”

In his mind, Tucker would chuckle and then rub at the tuft of blond hair that grew from his chin, regarding Duncan with his dark-blue eyes. Duncan could see the flicker of the candle lighting up his man’s features as he held the silence for a few moments, building the suspense. Then he would say something like, “I think I’ll change mine too.”

That would be one way it could play out—very twenty-first century.

Duncan would then imagine all his friends and family congratulating the newly minted fiancés with “Likes” and words of encouragement and shared happiness. Maybe he could get their waiter to take a picture of them, holding hands over a sausage and mushroom pie, right after the moment when they went from two guys dating to two guys anticipating…marriage.

Duncan found himself wiping yet another tear from his eye. Sunday was going to be perfect.

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Meet the Author

Real Men. True Love.

Rick R. Reed is an award-winning and bestselling author of more than fifty works of published fiction. He is a Lambda Literary Award finalist. Entertainment Weekly has described his work as “heartrending and sensitive.” Lambda Literary has called him: “A writer that doesn’t disappoint…” Find him at www.rickrreedreality.blogspot.com. Rick lives in Palm Springs, CA, with his husband, Bruce, and their fierce Chihuahua/Shiba Inu mix, Kodi.

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A Family Affair by Rob Loveless Release Blast, Excerpt & Giveaway!

A Family Affair

Author: Rob Loveless

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: April 27, 2020

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 50100

Genre: Contemporary, bisexual, college, gay, HFN, holiday season, jealousy, new adult, revenge, unrequited love

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Synopsis

It’s been said that if you love someone, set them free. If they come back they’re yours; if they don’t they never were. But what does it mean when they come back into your life—as your sibling’s significant other?

At twenty-five years old, Cal Adams has only ever truly loved one man, the one who broke his heart three years earlier—Andrew Hall. Since then, he has searched for meaningful relationships but cannot smolder the flames of the past his family remains unaware of.

As the holiday season approaches, Cal’s younger sister, Claire, brings her boyfriend home to meet the family. When she arrives, Cal is shocked to meet her boyfriend, who is none other than Andrew. In a darkly humorous tale, Cal decides to show his ex what he missed out on.

Excerpt

A Family Affair
Rob Loveless © 2020
All Rights Reserved

Cal Adams sat at his desk and shuffled through some papers as he eyed the clock: 5:47 p.m. A mixture of excitement and anxiety churned uneasily in his stomach as the seconds hand ticked away. In thirteen minutes, he would relinquish his work responsibilities and prepare for what was sure to be a big night. A few days earlier, Cal’s parents had called to invite him to dinner Friday night for a special occasion—his baby sister would be home from college for the weekend.

Claire Adams was a senior in college and only three and a half years younger than Cal, yet he couldn’t help but refer to her as his baby sister; perhaps that was part of being a big brother. As Claire’s older brother and only sibling, Cal was a bit on edge about that night’s family dinner. After all, Claire wasn’t just coming home to visit; she was bringing along her new boyfriend to meet the family.

Cal tuned out the clinking of weight machines and the grunts of fatigued gym patrons as he sat in his office and concentrated on the circumstance at hand. His sister hadn’t had a boyfriend meet their parents since her junior year of high school, which meant this was serious. Cal and Claire had become very close in recent years, but he had not heard much about this boyfriend, including his name. Claire had always been one to maintain a low profile on social media, and only acknowledged she was “in a relationship” a month or so ago—without posting any photos. From what Cal had been able to gather from his phone calls with her, Claire and her boyfriend had only been seeing each other for about six months. So they hadn’t been together that long. Still, this was serious, which worried Cal a bit.

Being the big brother, Cal was somewhat protective of his sister, but he was happy for Claire, and he was sure he’d love her boyfriend. After all, Claire had a good head on her shoulders. However, this whole situation made Cal uneasy since it made him reflect on his own lack of success in the relationship department.

As the eldest sibling, Cal had always anticipated he would be the first to settle down. However, being twenty-five years old and never having been in a serious relationship, he often felt frustrated and unfulfilled—like something was missing in his life.

It wasn’t that Cal was undateable. On the contrary, he was quite attractive, with medium-length, dark-brown hair, piercing gray eyes, sharp features, and a lean build. He was successful, independent, and had an easygoing, fun-loving personality. In fact, he went on plenty of dates, but nothing ever seemed to pan out. Either the chemistry wasn’t there or things just didn’t advance. Cal hadn’t experienced genuine feelings for anyone since—

“Hey,” a friendly voice chimed, which snapped Cal’s attention back to work. A petite young woman with a pretty, freckled face and long, ginger tresses appeared at his office door.

“Hi, Sophie,” Cal greeted. “Getting ready to head out?”

“Yeah, my six o’clock canceled on me,” she informed him.

Sophie was a personal trainer at the gym Cal managed and also one of his closest friends. Sophie was a year his senior, and the two had been friends since childhood. They knew everything about each other’s lives: the good, the not-so-good, and the bad.

Cal glanced at the clock: nearly six now. “I’ll be leaving in a few too.”

“Any fun weekend plans?” Sophie asked.

“Well, I have that family dinner tonight, but I’m not sure if I would call it fun.”

“Ohh, that’s right!” she said. “Claire’s bringing home the boyfriend. What do you know about him?”

“Nothing,” Cal replied. “Honestly, I don’t even think my parents know much about him.”

“So this is a pretty big deal,” Sophie stated. “It sounds serious.”

“Yeah, it does,” he sighed with a lack of enthusiasm before he shut off his computer.

“Uh oh, sounds like someone’s big brother senses are tingling,” she teased.

“It’s not that. I’m sure this guy is great. And I’m happy for Claire, I really am. But I’m twenty-five years old and—”

“Cal, you can’t keep thinking like that. You’re young, and you’ll find someone.”

“That’s what all my friends say, but you guys are all in relationships,” Cal countered. “You and Rich have been together for years.”

“Believe me, you’re gonna find someone. Soon. I’m sure of it,” Sophie reassured him as she gave his arm a squeeze. “By the way, I forgot to ask, how did the date go with that guy last night?”

“Eh, it was fine…at first.”

“At first?” she questioned.

“Yeah, I mean, he was cute. We just grabbed a coffee. And he seemed to have a good personality.”

“So what happened?”

“He started talking about how he loves popping molly.”

“No!”

“Oh yeah. And then he told me Lana Del Rey’s music makes him horny. Those were his exact words.”

“What!” Sophie gasped in disbelief. “He did not!”

“I’m telling you I can’t make this stuff up,” Cal chuckled as he shook his head in disbelief. “And really, Lana Del Rey? I didn’t know melancholic songs could get someone all hot and bothered.”

“You’re such a normal guy. How come you always find these crazies?”

“I don’t know, I guess they’re drawn to me,” he joked. “But, in all seriousness, I hate these stupid dating apps. I wish I didn’t have to use them, but I don’t know how else to meet someone. Every time I do meet someone from the apps though, they’re crazy or—”

“Or you don’t feel the spark.”

“No. At least not like I had with—”

“Hey”—Sophie interrupted in a soft voice—“it’s been over three years.”

“I know. I know,” Cal stated. He stood from his desk and grabbed his charcoal peacoat. “And I’m over it—believe me—I am. I just get scared that—”

“Don’t be. You’ll have those feelings again. You’ll find that spark.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighed with a slight shrug before he hit the lights and left his office with Sophie. The two exited the gym in silence and were soon embraced by the crisp air of late November.

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Meet the Author

Rob Loveless is a corporate communications professional, and currently resides in Pittsburgh, PA. He has been an avid reader and writer from a young age, being influenced by authors like J.K. Rowling and Dan Brown. When he’s not working or writing, Rob enjoys being active, exploring what the Steel City has to offer, and traveling.

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Broken Warrior by Jocelynn Drake & Rinda Elliott Release Blast, Excerpt & Giveaway!

Broken Warrior

Series: The Weavers Circle #1

Author: Jocelynn Drake & Rinda Elliott

Publisher: Drake and Elliott Publishing LLC

Release Date: April 24, 2020

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 97,304

Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Paranormal romance, urban fantasy romance

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Synopsis

Clay Green

A brotherhood? Monsters? Goddesses? Magic?

The world has become a strange place.

After a life on the run, Clay Green is rescued by a crazy old lady with a shotgun and an even crazier story about monsters, goddesses, and a secret brotherhood.

Gifted with the power of the earth, Clay must locate his missing “brothers” before invading monsters can destroy everything.

As if that’s not enough to contend with, Clay can’t keep his hands off the man trying to rebuild the plantation house he’s temporarily living in.

Dane Briggs

Something strange is going on…

Dane knew restoring the old plantation house wasn’t going to be an easy job, but at least none of the clients were going to be underfoot. Since losing his wife and child, the only way Dane can keep going is to focus on the work.

But that focus crumbles the second Clay appears covered in blood and barely hanging on to life.

Mystery and danger cling to Clay and the other men who suddenly show up. A smart man would walk away.

Dane chucks smart out the window in favor of hungry kisses and the silken slide of skin against skin. He doesn’t understand what’s happening, but there’s no question that Clay needs him.

He’s just not sure his heart can survive being broken again if something happens to Clay.

Broken Warrior is the first book in The Weavers Circle series. It includes fast-paced action, explosions, hurt/comfort, sexy times, animal shenanigans, wounded hearts, three crazy old ladies, and magic!

Excerpt

“And were you attacked on your walk? Some kind of flying suckerfish? Because that’s definitely not a hickey on your neck,” Baer continued.

Grey lifted his mug of coffee to his lips again, but he paused long enough to agree. “Definitely not a hickey.”

Without thinking, Clay slapped his hand to the spot Dane had sucked on during round one—or was it round three? Fuck, he’d come so many times last night, his balls should need a week to recover, but his dick was refusing to take orders from his brain or balls. The damn thing wanted to say “Fuck coffee” and crawl back into bed with Dane.

Laughter rang out in the kitchen, and Clay groaned. He’d never had a roommate, but he sort of imagined this was what it was like. Fuck, when all six of them were in the plantation house, it would be like a goddamn frat house.

Grabbing a mug out of the cabinet, Clay continued to ignore the duo at the table as he poured himself a cup of liquid sanity. He took his time, adding a little sugar, and then turned to the table. Before he took one step, he lifted a hand, and whatever Baer had been about to say stopped in his throat.

“I won’t discuss it. Not one word,” Clay said firmly.

Baer’s shoulder’s slumped, and his mouth snapped shut. He looked like a sad puppy for all of two seconds before he was up and happy again.

“I’m sure Grey is one of us,” Baer announced, moving on to an entirely new subject. At least this was one Clay was willing to tackle, even if he wasn’t sure he had the brainpower for it yet. If anything, it gave him something to think about besides Dane.

“Yeah, I kind of thought that last night too.”

Clay settled into a chair across from Baer and Grey. He could use a long, hot shower and a clean set of clothes, but one look at the eager expression on Baer’s face and he knew the man would follow him to the bathroom to discuss this. He could do without them sharing the bathroom with him.

“When I saw him running with you toward the Jeep last night, I swear I got the weirdest feeling of déjà vu. I know we’ve done this all before. Well, maybe not at that club, but the running together, the fighting together.” Baer rested his forearms on the table and leaned forward. “Even when we got back to the house, I felt like I knew him. Known him my whole life.”

“The same way you feel with me?”

Baer nodded.

Clay looked over at Grey, who had both hands wrapped around the dark-blue coffee mug resting on the table in front of him. A deep frown was pulling at the corners of his mouth and drawing lines between his thick eyebrows. Without the threat of death and destruction looming over their heads, Clay took a moment to actually look at the man. Gray hair highlighted his temples, and more of it flecked the closely trimmed beard lining his jaw and chin. He was paler than himself and Baer, as if he were more likely to spend long hours inside the house, but there was no missing the lean muscles that filled out his wrinkled button-down shirt. Maybe a swimmer. Or a runner.

“What do you think?” Clay prodded when Grey remained silent.

“That this is all stupid, ridiculous, and utterly impossible,” Grey grumbled. His hands tightened on his mug, but he didn’t lift it back to his mouth.

“But?”

“I can’t deny I have the same feeling of déjà vu with both of you. Something-something inside of me keeps claiming that I know.”

Clay glanced over at Baer. “Did you tell him?”

“Oh, he fucking told me so much,” Grey answered for him with a rough bark of laughter. “Powers and goddesses and other dimensions with alien monsters trying to kill us so they can destroy the world. I heard plenty last night.”

Closing his eyes, Clay pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily. Yeah, that was pretty much how it all sounded. Insane and impossible. That was his life now to a T. Opening his eyes again, he stared at Baer. “And you told him all this stone-cold sober?”

Baer’s chest puffed up and he grinned broadly at his friend. “No!”

Clay rolled his eyes.

“I found that cheap bottle of whiskey we lost. I think Jo hid it. But anyway, we killed that bottle, and I explained about the pestilents, Weavers, and the Circle.”

Clay looked over at Grey, waiting for his response on how the hell he took this information while loaded up on cheap whiskey.

“And then he turned into an ostrich,” Grey said in a deadpan voice.

“I was trying for a peacock. Something flashy,” Baer commented in a low voice.

“Broke the coffee table.”

“I panicked!”

“You were drunk!” Clay shouted.

“Birds are hard,” Baer muttered under his breath, his eyes locked on his coffee mug in front of him in a pout.

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Meet the Author

Jocelynn Drake and Rinda Elliott have teamed up to combine their evil genius to create intense gay romantic suspense stories that have car chases, shoot outs, explosions, scorching hot love scenes, and tender, tear-jerking moments. Their first joint books are in the Unbreakable Bonds series.

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The Qinali Virus by Valerie J. Mikles Blog Tour, Guest Post & Excerpt!

The Qinali Virus

Valerie J. Mikles has a new queer sci fi book out:

The Qinali Virus

Rage. Poverty. Disease.

They’re gone. Every last one.

The cost was great. The population has been devastated. But for the survivors, utopia has arrived.

Then the suspicious death of a young person forces Amber to question her world like she never has before. The Contentedness Council is after her, determined to protect their perfect society. Now Amber must unbury her city’s repressed past, expose the crimes that led to their utopia, and find a way to stop the Council from killing the world… again.

Join astral-projecting asexual Amber and her telepathic sister as they fight to save the human race from extermination!

Get It on Amazon


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10 Random Things about Amber Delouise

1, Amber is the only person in her city who inherited the power of astral projection. Most of the previous generation who had the ability died in a war with astral beings, who then put up shields to prevent humans from getting to the astral plane. This is why Amber’s astral projections appear as physical bodies.

2, Amber is the oldest of six kids. Only two of her siblings have opted to use gendered pronouns. Amber sometimes wishes that she hadn’t switched to gendered pronouns.

3, Amber loves to read and learn new things. Her family calls her “Book Dragon” because she hoards books. She enjoys “library mining.”

4, Amber prefers eating lunch alone, but she appreciates that her friend Mara always invites her anyway.

5, Amber has realized that the therapy she was forced to go through after the death of her mother may have made her forget something important about her city’s history.

6, Amber has never had a crush.

7, Amber speaks math as a second language.

8, Amber prefers technologically advanced clothes called “basics.” They repel stains and sweat.

9, Amber compares her obliviousness to sexual and romantic signals to colorblindness. She doesn’t notice when people are flirting with her, even when they point it out. What were you doing? And What did you want?

10, Amber’s favorite science is astronomy. She’s happiest when she’s at the telescope, using it to uncover the secrets of the universe. She gets bored at her day job—using telescopes to track space debris.


Excerpt

The Qinali Virus Meme

Jenise gasped. “Don’t do it.”

“Don’t call for help?” Amber asked, setting the tablet aside. “This is an astral injury. Maybe someone back home can help you.”

“No, please,” Jenise whimpered.

Amber felt her body vibrating and heard a ringing in her ears. The world became hazy and she saw her physical body collapsed on the ground. She hadn’t moved, and when she reached to the side, her hands passed through everything. This was how her book had described the astral plane.

“I did it! I’m here,” she squealed. Then she saw Jenise lying on the ground. A needle-like splinter pierced Jenise’s brain, and her aura seemed to ooze from the wound.

“Oh, this… this is bad…” Amber stammered, gathering the oozing essence back toward Jenise. Her hand went right through the glowing ooze and Jenise’s body. “How can I help you if I can’t touch you? What did the book say?”

“She’s coming for me,” Jenise murmured. Her physical form twitched, the red welts spreading as the needle dug deeper into her brain. Amber tried to clamp Jenise’s chin, but Jenise’s body passed through hers, so she grabbed the needle, and suddenly Jenise went still. She saw the needle because Jenise had described the needle. It was a manifestation of an injury; not a physical injury.

“I can manipulate a manifestation,” Amber murmured. Moving gingerly, Amber extracted the needle from her sister’s brain, and Jenise started to scream.

“Do you want me to stop?” Amber asked. Jenise kept screaming, oblivious to the question.

Gritting her teeth, Amber removed more of the needle, and her sister’s essence gushed from the wound. Amber blew gently on the oozing liquid and it seemed to dissolve into her sister’s skin. Once the needle was out, she molded her hands around her sister’s head, trying to close the wound. Her hands kept passing through Jenise’s skull, making her twitch. Amber didn’t like astral surgery, and she hoped she was helping.

“They’re coming,” Jenise murmured, her hands flailing, passing through Amber’s astral body. She felt her form vibrate and a ringing sound filled her ears.

“No. No, I’m not finished!” Amber cried, feeling an anchor pulling her back to her physical form. She curled into a fetal position, fighting to get back to the astral plane.

Jenise rolled onto her side and spooned behind Amber. “We have to run,” she rasped. “Someone’s coming.”

“Who? Is it Parey? Someone from the Council?” Amber asked. Amber heard the truck now, its wheels crushing the dirt and gravel as it came down the road from Highmere.

“I can’t tell,” Jenise rasped. “Don’t give up, Amber. Don’t go back.”

Amber sensed Jenise’s urgency, but when she saw the truck, she felt relieved. Running meant more isolation and uncertainty. What if Jenise wasn’t really better? Going back to Highmere made sense.

“Let’s go home,” Amber said. “You were scared, Jenise. We were scared. We can say… I don’t know. They’ll give us counseling and then we can go back to our lives.”

“I don’t want to go to brainwashing therapy,” Jenise said.

“Stop calling it that,” Amber explained.

“You don’t even know, do you?” Jenise said. “You don’t remember how you were before Cenn died. What “therapy” did to you.”

“It helped,” Amber insisted, looking hopefully at the truck ambling toward them. “I was a mess. I needed to be able to talk to someone without dumping it on all of you.”

“But you stopped feeling,” Jenise argued. “Not just the grief; you stopped feeling joy. You used to make twittering noises when you read books. You used to get so excited about things that Cenn had to sit you down so you wouldn’t pass out.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll be calm,” Amber said, fighting for a reason to trust her people. “They want the tablet with Chenna’s research. That’s all this is. A misunderstanding.”

“I was almost misunderstood to death!” Jenise cried, kicking at Amber, and rolling out of reach.

“Jenise, unless you can move, we can’t outrun them,” Amber said. “I am not leaving without you. I—oh, no.”

The stress of the argument made her dizzy and she dropped to her knees. A moment later, she was standing by the road, watching the truck roll by. Her voice caught in her throat, but she didn’t need to call out. The husky man in the passenger seat saw her and hollered, and the truck screeched to a stop. She recognized him from the Council—Tobin Wauld.

“I know we’re not supposed to be here. We’re scared. Can you take us home?” she asked. The weight of fear lifted for a moment, but then Wauld hoisted himself out the window, and drew a long-barreled weapon.

“Well, well, Discontent Delouise. This was too easy,” he smirked.

Amber’s lips quivered and her legs froze. She’d never seen a weapon like that in Highmere, but she’d seen them in that zombie movie. Run, you idiot, her brain shouted. She’d muttered it at the characters in the movies often enough.

He shot Amber with an orange-tipped weapon as he stalked past. She felt the sting of the puncture and a thin stream of liquid dripping into her astral form.

“Tobin, you shot her!” his companion cried.

“We came with tranqs for a reason. We don’t have time to argue with discontents,” Wauld said.

Amber still couldn’t believe a councilperson had shot her. Pretending to faint, she turned and dropped, rolling down the embankment. The moment the truck was out of sight, she willed herself back to her physical body.

“How’d it go?” Jenise asked.

“They shot me,” Amber said. Her whole body was trembling from adrenaline and she could feel the spread of the tranquilizer dart pushing against it.

“Misunderstanding?” Jenise taunted.

“Oh, no. Very clear,” Amber said, blinking away the spots in her vision. She had never experienced violence in Highmere, and she didn’t even know her people had dart guns. The feelings of shock and betrayal hit her in waves, as did a profound sense of loss. This wasn’t a short camping trip that ended with a meek return home anymore.


Author Bio

The Qinali Virus - Valerie J Mikles
Valerie loves dancing, writing, astronomy, sci-fi, and grapes. She’s agender, aromantic, and asexual, and even though her labels describe many things she is not, her motto in life is “I can be everything I want, just not all at the same time.”

Although she has yet to get paid to eat grapes, she was delighted to learn that people would pay her to study black holes, and spent much of her twenties as a black hole hunter. She was rewarded with an astronomy PhD, which promptly inspired her to move to L.A. to be a screenwriter. How she ended up working on weather satellites for NOAA, we may never know.

Her passion for story-telling extends back to before she could write, and in fall 2017, she achieved a life dream and published her first book, “The Disappeared.” Valerie currently has six books published in her New Dawn series You can learn more about Valerie’s books on her website: http://www.valeriejmikles.com

An asexual activist, Valerie has written and produced a series of comedic short films featuring asexual characters. You can watch her films online at: http://www.aces-sitcom.com. Her third book ‘Trade Circle’ features an asexual protagonist, and interestingly, she created this character before she even knew there was a word to describe it. She is super-excited about the release of the Qinali Virus, featuring an asexual, aromantic astronomer (and a weather satellite for good measure).

Author Website: http://www.valeriejmikles.com

Author Facebook (Author Page): http://www.facebook.com/vjmikles

Author Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/valeriebean

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16941635.Valerie_J_Mikles

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Valerie-J-Mikles/e/B074K2QCHG

Author LibraryThing: https://www.librarything.com/author/miklesvaleriej

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For Your Entertainment by M.J. Calabrese Release Blast, Exclusive Excerpt & Giveaway!

M.J. Calabrese - For Your Entertainment 3d Promo

Hi guys! We have M.J. Calabrese stopping by today with her new release For Your Entertainment, we have a great exclusive excerpt and a fantastic $20 Amazon GC giveaway so check out the post and enter the giveaway! ❤️ ~Mel~

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For Your Entertainment

(Songs of Love 02)
by

M.J. Calabrese

The life of rock star, Dorian Gray and his lover, award winning film director Scott Newland, has been filled with highs and lows. Their love has transcended drug addiction and insecurities, but will it survive another’s revenge against Dorian? 

Lead singer Dorian Gray, whose real life as David Niewitski is far different from his stage persona. Dorian is sensual, brazen and bold. Tall and handsome, he commands the stage. David has the voice of an angel and with his band, Absinthe, he reaches the top, but his personal life is a roller coaster of drug addiction, insecurities and a long-term relationship he fights to hold onto. 

Scott Newland, award winning film director, has known David since they were children. They became lovers in their teens and eventually marry. He loves his husband, but tries to protect David’s deaf mother and loving father from their son’s self-destructive personality. David’s head strong personality, drug addiction, and his need to control places them all in danger.  

This story shows the progression of these two men from friends to lovers and a backstage look at what a rock star faces onstage and off. As David would say, “My Name is Dorian Gray and I’m here For Your Entertainment.”

.•.•.**❣️ Amazon ❣️**.•.•.

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Dragon Consultant by Mell Eight Release Blast, Excerpt & Giveaway!

Dragon Consultant

Series: Supernatural Consultant, Book One

Author: Mell Eight

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: April 20, 2020

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 33300

Genre: Paranormal YA, LGBTQIA+, YA, dragon shifter, mage, men with children, magical detective agency

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Synopsis

Dane, a supernatural consultant, is hired by the FAA to look into a series of reported dragon attacks on their planes. What Dane finds in the wooded area where the attacks took place is not quite the problem he expected: a group of dragon kits and their sick father hiding from the authorities.

When he learns the real reason the family was in the woods, his case grows more dangerous, and though Dane is experienced at both crime solving and watching his own back, taking care of baby dragons and their ill father makes everything else look easy.

Excerpt

Dragon Consultant
Mell Eight © 2020
All Rights Reserved

The phone started ringing out in the main office just as Dane was finishing up with his last client of the day. He had to suppress an eager smile—Dane could only think of one reason for the phone to ring so late—and refocused his attention on his current client. Dane had been expecting the client on the phone to call a week ago; he could wait ten more minutes.

“Mrs. Hempstead, I assure you the pixies are not the ones harming your prized roses. In fact, I’m fairly certain that the pixies are the only reason your roses are still alive, given the extensive damage in your garden.” Dane tried to speak slowly and calmly so the elderly Mrs. Hempstead would understand and hopefully not get angry. It was probably a lost cause, though. She screamed pretentious and arrogant from the large pearl necklace around her wrinkled neck to the expensive mink coat she was wearing on a warm spring evening. She was used to hearing yes to everything she asked, so Dane telling her she was wrong would probably not go over well.

“If it isn’t those disgusting pixies, then what is destroying my roses?” she snapped, her back regally straight and her eyes flashing with anger. Dane was shivering with fear in his chair…not. “You are supposed to be the premier consultant on everything supernatural. I expect results!”

Dane kept his face pleasant through sheer force of will. He had known this reaction was coming, but that didn’t make it any more fun.

“The teeth marks on the bushes were quite distinctive,” Dane continued gamely. “I would suggest that you keep your dog away from that part of your garden if you want your rosebushes to bloom at all this year.”

She gasped, one silk-gloved hand flying to her chest as if Dane had uttered the most offensive thing she had ever heard. “Diamond would never do something like that!” The Chihuahua in question chose that moment to fart loudly in its carry-purse on the floor next to her chair, an action Mrs. Hempstead completely ignored.

“I have found the pixie family from your garden a new home where their abilities will be properly appreciated. You shouldn’t be bothered by their presence any longer.”

She sniffed in disdain. “Well, at least you’ve done as I asked. I’m sure my rosebushes will recover now that they’re gone. Contact my solicitor for payment.” She got to her feet smoothly, turned, and walked out of his office without a single word of thanks. Her roses would be dead by the end of the week; he’d bet that damned ankle-biter currently destroying her designer purse would ensure that.

Mrs. Hempstead didn’t dawdle on her way out of the office. Barely thirty seconds later, Dane heard the outer door shut with a click. The phone on his desk lit up, and his secretary’s voice sounded through the speaker.

“You have a call on line two. It seems important; he insisted on holding until you were done with your meeting.”

“Thanks, Becky,” Dane replied into the speakerphone. The lights on the phone all vanished as Becky hung up, except for the button blinking for line two. Each line belonged to a different type of client thanks to a nifty spell that made his life so much easier. Mrs. Hempstead would have gone to line three, as an ordinary human. Supernatural creatures lit up line one. Line two was for anything remotely associated with the government.

Dane picked up the phone, hit the button, and held the handset to his ear. He already knew who would be calling and why, but a touch of professionalism never hurt.

“This is Dane, your local supernatural consultant,” Dane said, his voice stiff with formality. “How may I help you today?”

“Why aren’t you already traveling to the mountain in question?” the voice on the other end snapped.

“Why, hello, Jacobson. So nice to hear from you!” If he was going to give Dane flack, Dane would give it right back. Jacobson was the ignorant fool in charge of the local division of the SupFeds, or the Federal Bureau of Supernatural Investigation, the branch of the federal government that oversaw all supernatural issues that had to do with the police or military. Jacobson was a human without the slightest magical ability. He relied on those who had power, like Dane, with far too little foresight. He simply didn’t understand just what he was dealing with whenever he called Dane.

If he did, he would be a whole heck of a lot politer.

“You know exactly why I’m calling. The FAA is talking about calling up the Air Force for a strike.”

“All for a dragon harassing a couple of airplanes?” Dane asked, skeptical that things would be so bad for such a little problem.

“How about multiple dragons? We’ve had sightings of at least one red and one blue dragon in the area.” Now that was an interesting fact that hadn’t made the news. “They’ve attacked three planes and forced an additional dozen to turn back. We’re diverting flights right now, but it’s not sustainable. We need those dragons contained as soon as possible. If you don’t step in, we’re going to have to take drastic action. I’ve sent all the information we’ve been able to gather to your email.”

The phone clicked and Jacobson was gone. He had hung up on Dane. What a bastard. One of these days someone was going to eat him, and Dane would get a nasty phone call from his successor asking Dane to figure out how, who, and why. Dane occasionally wondered how he would explain that Jacobson was an ignorant dick while still maintaining his professionalism. It really wasn’t a phone call he was looking forward to.

Purchase

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Meet the Author

When Mell Eight was in high school, she discovered dragons. Beautiful, wondrous creatures that took her on epic adventures both to faraway lands and on journeys of the heart. Mell wanted to create dragons of her own, so she put pen to paper. Mell Eight is now known for her own soaring dragons, as well as for other wonderful characters dancing across the pages of her books. While she mostly writes paranormal or fantasy stories, she has been seen exploring the real world once or twice.

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Third Eye by Rick R. Reed Release Blast, Excerpt & Giveaway!

Third Eye

Author: Rick R. Reed

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: April 20, 2020

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 93300

Genre: Horror/Thriller, NineStar Press, LGBTQIA+, crime, suspense, dark, men with children, reporter, hurt/comfort, psychic ability

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Synopsis

Who knew that a summer thunderstorm and a lost little boy would conspire to change single dad Cayce D’Amico’s life in an instant? With Luke missing, Cayce ventures into the woods near their house to find his son, only to have lightning strike a tree near him, sending a branch down on his head. When he awakens the next day in the hospital, he discovers he has been blessed or cursed—he isn’t sure which—with psychic ability. Along with unfathomable glimpses into the lives of those around him, he’s getting visions of a missing teenage girl.

When a second girl disappears soon after the first, Cayce realizes his visions are leading him to their grisly fates. Cayce wants to help, but no one believes him. The police are suspicious. The press wants to exploit him. And the girls’ parents have mixed feelings about the young man with the “third eye.”

Cayce turns to local reporter Dave Newton and, while searching for clues to the string of disappearances and possible murders, a spark ignites between them. Little do they know that nearby, another couple—dark and murderous—are plotting more crimes and wondering how to silence the man who knows too much about them.

Excerpt

Third Eye
Rick R. Reed © 2020
All Rights Reserved

Prologue

She was only thirteen. It wasn’t fair she now lay, bound, waiting for death. Before, there had been struggling: clawing and fighting, scratching their faces, pulling at their hair, batting at whatever part she could reach. Her breath had come in choking spasms, adrenaline pumping, burning, anteing up the hysteria so much she thought her air would be blocked. Then had come the dread that made her lose most of her fight, when her terror-addled brain had begun to accept her fate was to die here, in this tiny, hot room, with the only witness to her demise the sparkling eyes of her killers and the maddening, crooked whirl of a ceiling fan long past its prime and wobbling, doing nothing more than blowing the overheated, moist air around the room. The dread had risen up, a nausea twisting her gut and making her afraid she would vomit. And then had come the numbness, a dull tingling throughout her body that precluded movement, stripping her of coherent thought.

They stood above her. Faces she had trusted, faces she had seen before, around her neighborhood. The man she and her friends had had a crush on. He used to drive by her little house on Ohio Street in his old red Mustang, looking the picture of youth, confidence, masculinity. His hair was dark, cut bristle-brush short, and his face always clean-shaven. Thin lips bordered rows of perfect white teeth, and when he had smiled at her, only hours ago, she had lit up. A tingling had started in her toes and had worked its way up until the color rose to her cheeks. At her young age, the interest of a man in his twenties was inconceivable, although it had been something she had hoped for since the first day she had seen him, back at the onset of summer, when the sun had turned white-hot, burning up the grass and making illusory waves rise from the hot, cracked sidewalks.

He had pulled to the curb and sat there, car idling. She sat in the front yard, sorting through Barbie clothes: ball gowns and swimming suits, miniskirts and stretch pants. He didn’t say anything, not right away. She had looked at him once, then looked away, certain his interest could never be in her. Suddenly she felt ridiculous with her metal trunk, her Barbie dolls, and all the outfits she had once been so proud to collect. Swiftly, she returned the clothes to their case and slammed it shut.

She leaned back, resting on her palms, and lifted her face to the sun. Its heat beat down relentlessly, making the skin on her face feel tight.

She felt his eyes on her still. She opened her own eyes a crack and regarded him peripherally. He really was looking at her! The adorable little smile that caused a dimple to rise in his right cheek deepened in the sun’s play of shadow and light. She leaned back more, left hand reaching out to surreptitiously move the Barbie trunk farther away. In this posture, here on the withered and brown grass, she felt that her breasts, little more than two tiny bumps an unkind boy at school had once referred to as her anthills, looked larger. She could be eighteen, couldn’t she? With the right makeup and her hair pulled up….

But now her long blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, clipped with a pink plastic barrette. She wore a pair of cutoff shorts and an oversized South Park T-shirt belonging to her older brother. He would have killed her had he known she was wearing it. But he was away at the Y’s summer camp and would never know the difference.

The idling of the car was like an animal purring.

And then the sun disappeared, and she sat in darkness. Beneath her closed lids, she sensed someone standing over her.

Why hadn’t she heard the slam of the car door? Her eyelids fluttered, but she did not open them. It would be just like her mother to come outside now and stand above her, hands on hips, and ask her what she thought she was doing.

“Lucy?”

Finally, she opened her eyes and blinked at the brightness of the August day. He was smiling. So unlike the other guys in Fawcettville, he was dressed in pressed black slacks and a collarless white shirt, buttoned to his neck.

“How did you know my name?”

“Oh, I make it my business to know the names of all the pretty young ladies around here.”

Lucy felt the heat rise to her face once more. She grinned and could not think of a single word to say.

“Playing Barbie?”

She shoved the case farther away, until it was completely out of her grasp. The case lay in the white heat, glinting, looking, she hoped, as if it had nothing to do with her.

“What? Oh…no, no. These are my little sister’s. She always makes such a mess of things, and I was just organizing for her.”

“What a good sister.”

“Yeah, well…”

The two said nothing for a while, and Lucy began to grow uncomfortable under his gaze. She shifted her long, tanned legs in front of her, crossing them at the ankle.

“I was driving by and saw you sitting there, and I had to tell you”—he hunkered down beside her—“what a lovely sight you are. It made me stop just to have a better look.”

She laughed and thought she sounded way too much like the thirteen-year-old she was. “Thank you,” she whispered, wondering where her voice had gone.

“No, thank you, for being here, for making the heat of this day a little more pleasant.”

Oh, stop! she wanted to cry out but whispered again, “Thank you.”

He leaned closer, enough for her to feel his breath near her ear. In spite of the day’s heat, his nearness caused gooseflesh to rise on her arms, her spine to tingle.

“Listen.” He glanced around the empty street with eyes like none she had ever seen: green, ringed with thick black lashes. And in his gaze was a conspiracy that included only the two of them. “My car has air-conditioning. I know this is out of the blue and all, but I wondered if you’d like to go for a ride with me.”

Lucy glanced back at her house. She wished suddenly she lived in a bigger house, in a better neighborhood. Here on this modest residential street close to the river, her small white clapboard house was surrounded by other houses very much like it, some of them covered in rusting aluminum siding. She pictured her mother inside, on a vinyl-covered kitchen chair, watching All My Children on a thirteen-inch portable TV on the Formica-topped kitchen table. Her mother, she knew, would never approve of what was transpiring here, right in her front yard.

He stood suddenly. “Okay, okay. I get the message.”

“Wait.” She sat up straighter. A pickup rumbled by and left in its wake a smell of exhaust and a rush of hot air.

He turned. “What? Need to get your mom’s permission?”

“Of course not!” Her voice came out higher than she would have liked, the whiny protest of a child. She stood. “I’d like to come with you. But I can’t stay out too long.” She was about to say “My mom will be worried” but realized how immature that would sound. “I’ve got some people I have to meet in a little while.”

He smiled. And the smile erased any nervousness she had about going with him. After all, she had seen him around the neighborhood dozens of times. He wasn’t exactly a stranger, not really.

“That’s fine, Lucy. I’ll have you back within an hour. I promise. I certainly wouldn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with you.” He winked, and she followed him to the waiting car.

Purchase

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Meet the Author

Real Men. True Love.

Rick R. Reed is an award-winning and bestselling author of more than fifty works of published fiction. He is a Lambda Literary Award finalist. Entertainment Weekly has described his work as “heartrending and sensitive.” Lambda Literary has called him: “A writer that doesn’t disappoint…” Find him at www.rickrreedreality.blogspot.com. Rick lives in Palm Springs, CA, with his husband, Bruce, and their fierce Chihuahua/Shiba Inu mix, Kodi.

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Scarlet Gaze by Foster Bridget Cassidy Release Blast, Excerpt & Giveaway!

Scarlet Gaze

Author: Foster Bridget Cassidy

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: April 20, 2020

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 69300

Genre: Fantasy, LGBTQIA+, MM romance, new adult, virgin, college students, British setting, magic, demons, time travel, teleportation

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Synopsis

After a paranormal encounter in his youth with someone from his future, Collin Frey sets his sights on getting to Marke Staple University. Now eighteen and with a full scholarship to the prestigious university, Collin hopes to find an explanation to that life-changing event. Unfortunately, it only leads to more questions.

Finding out he’s there to study magic is the first surprise. The second is his roommate, Terrence, looks identical to the person who started him on the path to Marke Staple.

Collin’s more than willing to sell his soul to get closer to Terrence and uncover all the secrets hidden there. Can knowing a man will change after making a horrible mistake ease the pain of betrayal? Collin is going to find out.

Excerpt

Scarlet Gaze
Foster Bridget Cassidy © 2020
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
Mom and Dad chatted softly as I gazed out the taxi window. Occasionally, the driver would point out a well-known sight, or something of interest. My parents oohed and aahed, but I barely registered the words. My thoughts focused inward, to the red-eyed man, his desperate pleas for forgiveness, and the total absurdity of the situation. When my mind dwelled on the event from my youth, the rational side wanted to dismiss it as a daydream, or some sort of hallucinated episode. The man had disappeared. That sort of thing didn’t happen in real life.

Yet here I was. Following the clues that could easily turn out to be nothing more than a figment of my imagination.

“And ’ere we are,” the cabbie said, pulling the car to a stop. “Marke Staple University. Very prestigious.” He turned around and smiled at me. “You’re a lucky one to get in.”

Mom leaned forward eagerly. “Not lucky at all! Collin got a full scholarship! He’s very bright.”

I wrinkled my nose and unbuckled my seat belt. “Thanks for the ride.”

I climbed out and gazed upon the school’s gothic spires. They sent ominous shadows stretching across the school grounds. One at the center of the campus stood higher than the rest. I recognized it from the school’s website. And the coin. The familiarity of it made my heart ache. So close.

The driver got out of the car and opened the trunk. He lifted our bags out and set them on the sidewalk. Dad slipped him a few American dollars, which he took with a wink. “Thanks a lot. And good luck in your studies.” He waved before climbing back inside and disappearing the way we came.

“So, here it is,” Dad said, following my gaze to the spires. “Kinda creepy.”

Mom lightly smacked Dad’s shoulder. “Travis! Don’t say things like that. It’s an old school, with old architecture.”

“And old ghosts,” Dad muttered, then shot me a mischievous grin. “I hope you don’t venture out at night.”

I laughed, and the tension filling me lessened. A bit.

Dad threw his arm over my shoulder and pulled me in for a side hug. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s check this place out.”

A man in a butler-type uniform headed our way, a trolley in front of him. He stopped in front of us and gave a formal bow. “Mr. and Mrs. Frey? I’m Stephen, Mr. Helmer’s coordinator. We sent a car to pick you up, but apparently they were stuck in traffic and didn’t make it on time. You’ll be compensated for the fee, of course.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dad said.

Stephen dipped his head, graying hair falling over his eyes, but when he rose, he didn’t look happy with Dad’s dismissal of the taxi fare. “Mr. Helmer will be here shortly, but he sent me ahead to collect your luggage.”

“Thank you,” Mom said as he loaded our bags onto the trolley.

“I’ll get them delivered to your rooms.” Another bow, then he scampered off.

“That’s awful nice,” Mom added. “A car to pick us up—even if we missed it—and a butler to carry our things. What else will they do for us?”

“Well, they’re giving me a full scholarship,” I said, walking forward. “That should be plenty.” The tuition here was enormous. I had been lucky they’d offered me a scholarship, or else I never could have afforded this place. Millionaires sent their children here. Mom and Dad barely made enough to send Mindy—my older sister—to Florida State. This was on the other side of the Atlantic.

Mom and Dad followed my lead. We stepped past the stone gate and onto campus. As soon as my foot touched the ground on the other side, a tingle ran up my spine. I glanced around, wondering if they had a laser or infrared camera pointed at us. Nothing looked out of place. No obvious surveillance. With the next step, the chill vanished, so I dismissed it as a fluke and pushed it from my mind.

The campus was constructed of stone buildings, most sporting tall spires. Nothing in Florida even came close to this. In age or in design. An odd sensation permeated the air, almost like the change in air pressure on an airplane. A hum sounded just a decibel below hearing.

“Which way should we go?” Dad asked.

Mom pointed to a small sign in the grassy area in front of us. “Freshman orientation. That way.” She gestured to the right.

We started in that direction, but an older gentleman jogging toward us slowed our steps. I recognized his face—Patrick Helmer, the dean.

“Mr. and Mrs. Frey,” he called out, waving his hands over his head.

We stopped and allowed him to catch up. When he did, he smiled broadly, adding more wrinkles to his kindly face. “And Collin, of course,” he said to me. “I’m glad you made it in safely. I’m Patrick Helmer, the dean.” He shook all our hands enthusiastically. “I must apologize for the mix-up with the car. We must have copied your flight time incorrectly.”

“It was no problem,” Mom said. “The cab driver got us here quickly.”

“We wanted to do more, Mrs. Frey, to show how excited we are to have Collin here.”

Mom smiled, happy for someone to be singing my praises.

“We were just heading to orientation,” I said, gesturing in the direction we’d been going.

Helmer waved his hand dismissively. “No, that’s for the ordinary students. You don’t need to listen in. If you don’t mind, I’ll give you a tour of the campus.”

“That would be lovely,” Mom said. “Are you sure you’re not too busy?”

“Never too busy to assist our new literature students. We take pride in both our programs, but literature is the jewel in our crown. Collin won’t want for anything while he’s in our care, Mrs. Frey.”

Some of the tension left Mom’s shoulders at his words.

“Now, this way.” He led us deeper onto campus. “Marke Staple is a very old, very selective school.”

“I know,” I said. When we’d returned home from Colorado, I had looked into this place. I had the whole history of it memorized. And when I’d found out they only had two degrees—literature and business—I had applied myself to my studies and set my sights on getting here. “You only select five students a year to be in your literature program.”

The dean grinned. “Correct. And we are very happy you selected our school, Collin. I know you had plenty to choose from.”

I nodded, but it wasn’t true. Oh sure, my grades were so fantastic I could have gone to almost any I chose, but Marke Staple was the only place for me. My encounter with the red-eyed man cemented it.

“This”—Helmer said, lifting his hand toward the closest building—“is Lapris Hall. It’s the administrative building. My office is in there, as well as all the other teachers’. If you have any problems, you can find your solutions there.”

The building was two stories, with a dozen windows on this side. At each corner, elegant spires rose twice the height of the building. Atop each spire was an animal statue. A dog. A cat. A bird. A turtle. Curious. Most ancient buildings like this put statues of people or crosses, or at the very least gargoyles.

Helmer noticed my study of the spires and leaned close to me. “Wards,” he said softly. “They protect us.”

I shivered again, wondering what a university would need protection from.

He continued walking. Mom and Dad followed, but I lingered. Something about the building…wasn’t right. There was a haze that drew the eyes to the top, to the spires.

“Come on, Collin,” Dad called.

I pulled my gaze away and hurried after.

“This,” the dean said at the next building, “is Regalia Hall. All your classes will be in here. Besides the Staple Spire, it has the most original stonework. Only the west wall was affected by an earthquake in 1734.”

This building had one spire over the entrance, although several cats sat atop the buttresses. If four protecting Lapris Hall were enough, why did this building need a dozen?

“English departments are all the same,” Dad said, lifting his chin to study the detailed stonework. “And I bet the teachers all look like Dracula. That’s how it was at my college.”

Helmer laughed. “We don’t have any vampires on staff. A few hybrids, perhaps, but nothing dangerous.” Then he met my eyes and winked.

We continued around the rectangular campus, passing the café, and then the math building, the economics building, and other places the dean said I would have no use for. With only five students in each year, the literature program hosted twenty students total. The business program had four hundred. Naturally, most of the space would be devoted to their courses.

Finally, we reached the dormitories. There were three: lined in a row on the south side of campus. The school’s rock-wall perimeter stood just a few feet from the rear of the buildings.

“The men’s dormitory is on the left,” Dean Helmer said, gesturing. It was two stories, lacked any spires, and was identical to the one on the right. “The women’s dorm is on the right. The staff’s in the center.” The staff’s building was taller, and had two enormous statues peering down at the students’ dorms.

“Let me guess,” I said, nodding up toward the statues. One was a lion, the other a tiger. “They’re meant to keep us in after curfew.”

The dean chuckled and clapped a hand on my shoulder affectionately. “Ah, Collin. I do wish we could set them to that task. Unfortunately, we rely on resident assistants to enforce the curfew. Our statues are simply meant to ward off any danger.”

“Ah,” I said as if that made perfect sense.

“Now, why don’t we leave you to get settled into your room. You’ve got your room assignment?”

I wiggled my phone. “Yeah, it’s in my email.”

Helmer nodded, then turned to my parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Frey? If you’ll join me in my office, I’ll go over the finer points of Collin’s scholarship. Give you our emergency contact information. Get yours in return. That sort of thing.”

Mom looked at me, hesitating. “Will you be okay on your own?”

“I’m fine, Mom. I don’t want you and Dad being overbearing when I meet my roommate.”

Helmer glanced at his watch. “We can meet in an hour at the cafe for dinner? Will that suit you, Mrs. Frey?”

She nibbled her lip, but dipped her head. “All right. We’ll see you in a bit.”

The dean smiled. “Wonderful! Michael is your RA, Collin. Ask him if you have any questions.”

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Meet the Author

Foster Bridget Cassidy is a rare, native Phoenician who enjoys hot desert air and likes to wear jackets in summer. She has wanted to be a fiction writer since becoming addicted to epic fantasy during high school. Since then, she’s studied the craft academically—at Arizona State University—and as a hobby—attending conventions and workshops around the country. A million ideas float in her head, but it seems like there’s never enough time to get them all down on paper.

For fun, Foster likes to take pictures of her dachshunds, sew costumes for her dachshunds, snuggle her dachshunds, and bake treats for her dachshunds. In exchange for so much love and devotion, they pee vast amounts on the floor, click their nails loudly on the tile, and bark wildly at anything that moves outside. Somehow, this relationship works for all involved.

While not writing, Foster can usually be found playing a video game or watching a movie with her husband. While not doing any of those things, Foster can usually be found in bed, asleep.

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Drive by Courtney Maguire Release Blast, Excerpt & Giveaway!

Drive

Author: Courtney Maguire

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: April 20, 2020

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 59900

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, Contemporary, family-drama, BDSM, interracial, pet play, friends to lovers, in the closet, abusive father, mechanic, sugar daddy

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Synopsis

In the conservative East Texas town of Black Creek, you’re either old money or you work for them. Redmond Cole is the latter. The long hours he spends fixing fancy cars in the local garage are barely enough to support himself, let alone his sixteen-year-old half-sister, Katie. All he wants is a better life for the both of them, one that’s easy and real, but he has a secret. One that could blow up the meager existence he’s worked so hard to maintain.

Red is gay.

He doesn’t want to lie, especially to Katie, but Black Creek isn’t the most hospitable environment for those who are different. His secrets keep them safe. He’s all but resigned to a life in the closet when he’s propositioned by the dashing, wealthy Victor Itachi. What follows is a secret and intense sexual relationship that challenges everything Red believes about himself. When an unlikely friendship with the only out gay man in town opens Red’s eyes to new possibilities, he must make a choice: submit fully to the relative safety of Victor’s control or risk it all for a chance at real love.

Excerpt

Drive
Courtney Maquire © 2020
All Rights Reserved

Under the hood of a car, everything makes sense. Gears and wires. Oil and grease. All the parts fit together and just work. Each piece has its own function, a logic. Completely predictable even when damaged. Won’t turn over? Check the battery, the wiring, the alternator. Find the broken piece and the whole thing comes alive again, purring and growling and shrugging itself back into action.

I pulled my head out of the engine compartment of a Nissan Altima and flexed my back with a satisfying crack. The owner brought it in complaining of overheating. The repair was a simple one. Just a few hoses needed replacing. I wiped my grease-coated hands and folded my tall frame into the driver’s seat. I flicked the key, and the engine turned over easily. I tapped the accelerator and the temperature needle climbed before stopping at normal. I smiled and gave the dash an affectionate pat.

“Good girl.”

“Red!” I jumped at a sharp voice from inside the shop. I shut off the Nissan and stepped out to find my boss, Bo, poking his square head into the garage, gesturing for me to join him. Visible through a bank of windows behind him stood a neatly dressed man with long, ink-black hair and a troubled expression. I’d seen him before. Many times, in fact. He drove a silver BMW 5 series sedan, a fine machine and well-suited to a man like him, and he brought it in monthly for regular maintenance.

I always noticed. Not only the car, but the man. How the air changed with his appearance. How, like now, the gears in my head locked up and stopped moving, and all I could do was stare, mesmerized by the flow of his hair around his shoulders, the bow of his lips, his olive skin. He was nothing like the rednecks here in Black Creek. I struggled for a word to describe him. Pretty was what he was. Not in a feminine sense. More in the way you think of a Ferrari 458 as pretty. Sleek and stylish with a touch of ferocity lurking just beneath the shiny topcoat.

“Redmond!”

I jumped again, my eyes jerking back to Bo’s irritated face.

“What the hell are you doing? Get in here!”

Face hot, I slammed the car door behind me. I straightened my collar, immediately feeling ridiculous for doing so, and made my way into the shop.

“Mister Itachi,” he announced as I stepped through the door, “this is Redmond Cole. He’s our finest mechanic. I can assure you he’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

I nodded without raising my eyes, dirty hands shoved in my pockets. Mr. Itachi. Victor. I knew his name already, had seen it on intake forms and receipts, but unlike the other countless names I encountered daily this one stuck. He shifted nervously, his shiny leather shoes scraping across the shop floor. I lifted my eyes just enough to see his lips curl downward and lowered my head to hide my flush.

“I have a very important meeting in Longview, tomorrow,” he said, each word crisp and carefully formed. “It is absolutely imperative it’s ready by first thing in the morning.”

“Yessir.” My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, making the words thick.

“Trust me,” Bo assured him, slapping me roughly on the back with a meaty hand. “He’ll have it ready if he has to work all night.”

I frowned and swallowed hard as he gave my shoulder a tight, warning squeeze.

Mr. Itachi clenched and unclenched his hands at his waist, and he released a long sigh. “I guess I’ll leave it to you then.”

My tongue frozen in place, I nodded again. Bo released his grip on my shoulder and ushered the gentleman out in a fog of reassurances, each one laced with a subtle threat pointed at me.

Heart pounding, palms sweating, I retreated into the garage. I leaned heavily against the Nissan I’d just been working on. My coworker, Lawrence, squinted at me from underneath a Mazda 3, and I pulled myself up straight.

Goddammit, Red, get a hold of yourself.

“What is it with that guy?” he said in his three-pack-a-day voice, jabbing his wrench toward the windows.

My stomach clenched. “What do you mean?”

“Bo can’t seem to jump high enough when he comes around.”

I released a nervous laugh and shrugged. “Money talks, I guess.”

Lawrence snorted, disappearing back under the Mazda. Here in Black Creek, there were two classes of people: the obscenely wealthy and everyone else barely scraping by. Like every other East Texas town, we were founded on lumber and natural gas. Those who got in early prospered. Those who didn’t worked for them. Generations of people whose fate was determined by the luck of their great-great-grandfathers, though something told me Mr. Itachi’s story was different. The silver BMW pulled into the bay next to me, and I peered at it over the Nissan’s roof.

“What’s wrong with you?” I whispered to myself.

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Meet the Author

Courtney Maguire is a University of Texas graduate from Corpus Christi, Texas. Drawn to Austin by a voracious appetite for music, she spent most of her young adult life in dark, divey venues nursing a love for the sublimely weird. A self-proclaimed fangirl with a press pass, she combined her love of music and writing as the primary contributor for Japanese music and culture blog, Project: Lixx, interviewing Japanese rock and roll icons and providing live event coverage for appearances across the country. Her first novel, Wounded Martyr, is a 2019 RWA® Golden Heart® Finalist in the Contemporary Romance: Short Category.

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Promises: The Next Generation by A.E. Via Audio Tour, Excerpt

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Promises: The Next Generation

Bounty Hunters Series, Book 5

Author A.E. Via

Publisher: Tantor

Narrator Aiden Snow

Listening Length 9 hours 3 minutes

Audio Release: 04.07.20

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Blurb

Duke Webb has run the most successful bail recovery agency in Atlanta for over 20 years. That’s because he has a team of trained, competent hunters backing him up to keep his name feared on the streets. But Duke knows that nothing can go on forever. That’s what leads him to start his new training program.

Kellam Knight has studied martial arts under his sensei, Quick, since he was 8 years old. A tossed-out reject from high-society, Kell has a problem fighting on the right side of the law. When Quick offers Kell the opportunity to join Duke’s training program, he’s all in. Except he’s not prepared for the straight, over-confident, extremely disciplined, sexy man Brian has recruited to be his partner.

Tyrell Jenkins’ world was flipped upside down when his father never returned home from his last deployment. He’d been Ty’s teacher, mentor, his guide to living a righteous life as a good man. When Brian King – his father’s most trusted comrade – finally comes to him with the truth, he doesn’t come alone. He comes with trained men hidden in the shadows…and a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to join a brotherhood unlike any other.

Universal Buy Link: http://mybook.to/TheNextGeneration

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Excerpt

Kell paused at the door with his hand on the knob. “Tyrell. There is something I want.”

“Name it.”

“I want to kiss you.”

Ty’s chest expanded. Kell was giving him his gift in return. His thank you for the rare gold lying against his skin.

Ty didn’t stop walking until his entire body was pressed against Kell’s from thigh to forehead. He bent down and placed his lips where he always did. Needing to make eye contact, he brought one hand up and caressed Kell’s cheek tenderly before reaching around and releasing his hair from the messy bun. Kell swallowed loudly. Ty grazed his lips across Kell’s temple and lingered there as he slid his hand into that thick mane, burying it deep until his palm cradled the back of Kell’s skull. His partner whined and rubbed his body against him. So pliant and at his will. Kell smelled like fresh soap mixed with the ginger and apple from whatever shampoo he used. Ty pressed in harder and plunged his other hand in, watching the long strands thread through his fingers. Kell’s hair felt like plush down feathers.

Ty’s joint was ’bricker than brick.

Kell lifted his head higher, aiming those pretty lips where he wanted them to be. Ty hovered his mouth just over his and paused there, inflicting a few more seconds of torture before giving in to what he craved. Kell rose onto the balls of his feet and took their suffering away. He touched their lips together, gently at first, before moaning deeply, tilting his head and flicking his warm tongue at Ty’s lips.

Ty’s composure shattered.

AEVia-Logo-JayAheer2015-white-black-Large (1)

A.E. Via has been a best-selling author in the beautiful gay romance genre for six years now, but she’s no stranger to MM. She’s been an avid reader of gay lit for over fifteen years before she picked up her laptop to place her own kiss on this genre. She’s also the founder and owner of Via Star Wings Books, having published a couple great new up and coming MM authors.

A.E. has a Bachelor of Arts in Criminal Justice from Virginia Wesleyan College that she used to start her own paralegal firm after she graduated in 2008. She spent five years preparing and filing bankruptcy petitions for struggling blue collar workers who couldn’t afford to file with a lawyer. It was a rewarding and satisfying career… but another path called to her.

Writing.

A.E.’s novels embodies everything from hopelessly romantic to adventure, to scandalous. Her stories often include intriguing edges and twists that take readers to new, thought-provoking depths.

She’s recently celebrated her 20th book anniversary, and is kind of known now for her hardcore, play rough and love hard, bad boy, alphas. However, she does like to push herself to step out of her comfort zone, exploring different tropes, but she won’t push herself into a whole other genre. She’s head over heels for gay romance and she has tons of more hot stories to tell.

Be sure to visit Adrienne on her social media pages and subscribe to her newsletter to never miss another release date! Go to A.E. Via’s official website http://authoraevia.com for more detailed information on how to contact her, follow her, or a sneak peek at upcoming work, free reads, VSWB submissions, and where she’ll appear next.

Social Media Links

Amazon Author Page: http://bit.ly/AuthorAEVia

Author Official Website: http://authoraevia.com

Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/aeviaauthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorAEVia

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7354860.A_E_Via

A.E. Newsletter Signup: https://goo.gl/4hfuMh

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Peacemaker by E.M. Hamill Blog Tour, Excerpt, Guest Post, Review & Giveaway!

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E.M. Hamill has a new queer sci fi book out, book two in the Dalí Tamareia series:

Peacemaker

Third-gender operative Dalí Tamareia thought their life as an ambassador ended when they joined a galactic intelligence agency. When they’re yanked out of the field and tapped to negotiate the surrender of deadly bio-engineered warriors who crashed into hostile territory, Dalí is thrust headfirst back into the tumultuous world of galactic diplomacy.

Dalí has faced Shontavians before, but not like these. The stranded mercenaries are highly intelligent and have an agenda of their own. Dalí can’t afford to be distracted from the negotiations by their own demons or the presence of a charming diplomat with a mysterious past.

As a brewing civil war threatens to derail the entire mission, Dalí must use all their skills to bring this dangerous situation to a peaceful end—but the Shontavians may not be the biggest monsters at the table. Someone is determined to see Dalí and their team dead before they discover the brutal truth hiding in the wreckage.

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Guest Post

The Music Behind Peacemaker: A Dalí Tamareia Mission

Because I live in a busy house with three other adults and two vocal pets, I often write with noise canceling headphones and some great, atmospheric music playing. I have to write to instrumental music, because words paint such vivid pictures for me they interfere in my creative process.

My son introduced me to trailer music a few years ago: short, intense pieces of music which create a stunning atmosphere and are often used in movie trailers before the actual soundtrack is written. Two Steps from Hell and Audiomachine provided a lot of inspiration for me for the first book; in fact, one particularly heartbreaking scene had a literal soundtrack in Audiomachine’s “Red Sorrow”. While this particular scene didn’t make its way intact into Dalí, there are many other moods and moments which found footing in some great music.

I listen to a lot of Pandora Journey playlists on YouTube, but these books are gritty and violent. Lovely music doesn’t always provide the right kind of inspiration.  GRV MegaMix: Hybrid War was one of my absolute favorite playlists for writing violent battles and moments of tension in both books.

Some very important moments in Peacemaker  were written to Immortals: Powerful Hybrid Music Mix. This one was in frequent rotation!

Last but not least, Gary Numan’s My Name is Ruin became my unofficial theme song for The Dalí Tamareia Missions. I actually paraphrased one of the chorus lyrics in the book because of the feeling it evoked…see if you can figure out which one. It happens in the most intense moment of the book.

My name is ruin, my name is vengeance
My name is no one, no one is calling
My name is ruin, my name is heartbreak
My name is loving, but sorrows and darkness
My name is ruin, my name is evil
My name’s a war song, I sing you a new one
My name is ruin, my name is broken
My name is shameless, I’ll tear you wide open

I hope some of the music helps inspire your own writing!


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Excerpt

Peacemaker
I took a quick turn in the cleanser to rid my skin and hair of the tacky residue left by the decon spray. In the warmth and vibration, I shuddered as the last of the physical characteristics I’d adapted to pass as male shifted back into my neutral, sexless state. My crewmates didn’t expect me to assume a gender, something for which I remained grateful. Without hormone stimulation to drive the change, the process was more painful, and my shoulders complained against the grind of bone and muscle.

I tamed my wavy brown mop as best I could, drawing it into a short, braided queue at the back of my neck before putting on the dress black uniform hanging in my quarters. The white starburst of diplomacy blazed in holographic relief on my left shoulder with the multiarmed spiral of the Remoliad’s sigil on the opposite sleeve.

To be back in the uniform of an ambassador felt strange. Transient reflections in the narrow window showed a me I hadn’t acknowledged in over two years. I barely recognized the echo of who I used to be, a transparent ghost against the stars outside.

The reason I had been pulled out of the field began to make sense, though I still didn’t know what the assignment entailed. Time to find out.

At the closed door of Sumner’s ready room, I tugged at the tunic’s high collar, squared my shoulders, and tapped on the panel to request entry.

“Commander. Permission to enter?”

“Granted.” The door slid aside with his verbal acknowledgment. I stepped through.

Silhouetted by the flicker of busy data screens behind the desk, Sumner wore a black uniform with insignias of diplomatic service similar to mine but without the starburst rank of ambassador. Instead, he wore the pips of an officer in the Remoliad Fleet on the high neck of his collar. He stared at the screen of a PDD, his expression dark and troubled.

Sumner glanced up and a crooked grin formed on his lips as he rose. “Ambassador Tamareia. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

His vocal inflections sounded almost normal, but his eyes still held frost. We were never this formal with each other, a sign of the tension between us.

“I haven’t seen me in a long time either. It feels very strange.” I took a deep breath. “I would like to apologize for my insubordination, especially for what I said in med bay, Commander. I was out of line.” Embarrassment burned in my cheeks, and I lowered my gaze. “I owe Melos and Ziggy more than an apology. I was under the influence on a mission, and I put the lives of my teammates in danger. I will accept the consequences of my actions as you deem appropriate.”

“Grab a chair.” He gestured opposite his desk, and I sat. “I think I owe you an apology as well. I’ve gotten used to autonomy. When some bureaucrat tells me to drop whatever I’m doing and pull my operatives in the middle of a potentially productive mission, it pisses me off. The order to recall you came from so far over my head I got vertigo. The rest is just the frost on the comet, and it pushed me over the line.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for the vendetta remark.”

“No, you were right. I needed to be reminded why I’m here. You promised only that I will be involved when we take them down, not that I would be the instrument.” No matter how badly I wanted the privilege, I had a bigger job to do. “Who told you to recall me?”

His mouth twisted in an ironic smile. “The Remoliad security council.”

My eyebrows threatened to merge with my hairline. “The security council has authority over the Penumbra?”

“Technically. My superior answers to the secretary general, but it’s almost unheard of to receive a direct order from any office.”

“I don’t understand.” I frowned. “Did my mother have anything to do with this?”

“No, Ambassador Urquhart isn’t involved as far as we can tell. We checked since the order was so specific. But I just received more details.” He handed me the data device he’d been scowling at when I came in. “Against all previous declarations of disdain for galactic alliance, the Ursetu recently issued an emergency petition for their planet to become a member of the Remoliad.”

I narrowed my eyes at him and took the PDD. “I saw something about that in my debriefing file. The crown princess is dead?”

“Yes. The queen and her grandson, Prince Razaxha, are still alive.”

“What happened? Was the planet attacked?”

“Yes and no.” He swept his hand and a heads-up display swirled into view between us. “I’ll warn you up front, this is brutal.”

The wreck of some immense ship blighted the forested grounds of a ziggurat-like palace, silhouetted against the backdrop of a sharp black mountain. Columns of smoke and flames traced the outline of warped and twisted debris. The recording lens zoomed in on a section of the disaster where tiny flashes of light sparked and died. As the picture enlarged, I sat forward in shock.

“Enhance this area.” Sumner circled the spot on the heads-up and spread his fingers. The portion of the holovid expanded, grainy, blurred, and blocked by foliage, but I made it out plainly enough. Enormous, gray-skinned figures piled out of the wreckage.

Shontavians.

The four-armed beings appeared unstoppable as they swatted aside the Ursetu and their guns, snatched up the soldiers with their sharp-taloned hands and—

A psychic memory of the taste of blood and entrails hit me so hard I fought the urge to vomit.

“Stop the playback!” I drew heavy breaths through my nose until the nausea passed and my heart stopped pounding. Sumner swept his hand over the enlarged holo, reducing details to a safe distance as my mind attempted to process what I’d seen.

A ship hadn’t crashed in the middle of an Ursetu city. It was the orbiting laboratory where Shontavians were engineered and kept isolated until their sale to whomever bought their mercenary services. It crashed into the planet or was deliberately brought down.

By whom?

The Ursetu faced monsters of their own making—huge, intelligent creatures with the serrated teeth and claws of a predator, created solely for fighting wars. And they had a craving for sentient meat.


Author Bio

E.M. HamillElisabeth “E.M.” Hamill is a nurse by day, unabashed geek, chocoholic, sci fi and fantasy novelist by nights, weekends, and whenever she can steal quality time with her laptop. She lives with her family, a dog, and a cat in the wilds of eastern suburban Kansas, where they fend off flying monkey attacks and prep for the zombie apocalypse.

Her other books include the acclaimed sci fi novel Dalí, the snarky urban fantasy Nectar and Ambrosia, and several short works of fiction. Visit www.elisabethhamill.com for a full list of literary work.

Author Website: https://www.elisabethhamill.com

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/EMHamill

Author Twitter: @songmagick

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16592440.E_M_Hamill

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/e-m-hamill/

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00JY0FV8S


E.M. Hamill - Peacemaker MEME4

Review

E.M. Hamill - Peacemaker Cover s 0393knnTitle: Peacemaker

Series: A Dalí Tamareia Mission 02

Author: E.M. Hamill

Genre: Science Fiction

Length: Novel (284pgs)

ISBN: 978-1-951880-58-3

Publisher: NineStar Press (2nd March 2020)

Heat Level: Moderate

Heart Rating: 💖💖💖💖💖 5 Hearts

Reviewer: Pixie

Blurb: Third-gender operative Dalí Tamareia thought their life as an ambassador ended when they joined a galactic intelligence agency. When they’re yanked out of the field and tapped to negotiate the surrender of deadly bio-engineered warriors who crashed into hostile territory, Dalí is thrust headfirst back into the tumultuous world of galactic diplomacy.

Dalí has faced Shontavians before, but not like these. The stranded mercenaries are highly intelligent and have an agenda of their own. Dalí can’t afford to be distracted from the negotiations by their own demons or the presence of a charming diplomat with a mysterious past.

As a brewing civil war threatens to derail the entire mission, Dalí must use all their skills to bring this dangerous situation to a peaceful end—but the Shontavians may not be the biggest monsters at the table. Someone is determined to see Dalí and their team dead before they discover the brutal truth hidden in the wreckage.

Purchase Link: NineStar | Amazon US | Amazon UK

Review: Well that ended with a cliff hanger to end all cliff hangers and totally mind blowing!

This is the second Dalí Tamareia and while they should be read in order I never read the first book and I didn’t feel like I’d missed anything that impacted this book, although I’m going to read it now as this story does hint at events in the first book and I want to know more.

Dalí is throwing themself into their work, taking chances and risking their life with a devil may care attitude. Their teammates straighten them out before they are thrown into a dangerous situation where only Dalí may be able to broker a peaceful resolution.

But as Dalí tries to negotiate with the Shontavians someone on the planet wants total control of the dangerous genetically engineered mercenaries and Dalí’s life hangs in the balance.

Well let me tell you I was hooked from the first chapter, the turmoil that Dalí is going through at the beginning of the book draws you in as you see him taking chances that they don’t need to take. Their attitude brings to mind someone who is close to the edge, dancing with death with the secret wish that death will strike them down.

We are drawn into an incredible story where Dalí is drawn back into their true calling of negotiation, and what a situation they are dropped into.

This is a fast paced story that has danger, intrigue, a dash of sex, and a hell of a twist. The world building is wonderful with richly described settings, we are thrown into situations that you can easily image, and with characters that come to life.

Dalí is third gendered so can switch genders, so male or female partners are both to be expected. There isn’t any romance as such, maybe a slight awakening of awareness of feelings.

Now the ending hits you from nowhere, I seriously didn’t see it coming; it was such a huge betrayal and such a slap in the face that I wanted to hunt the betrayer down myself. Many things are discovered during this story with some of them being tied in to what happened to Dalí’s spouses in book 1, another reason to read book 1 😉

All in all I loved this story and was fascinated with how the story unfolded and developed, I can’t wait for book 3 and look forward to what else E.M. Hamill has to entertain us.

I recommend this story to those who love science fiction, great storylines, and intriguing characters.

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Deep Cut by C.R. Scott Release Blast, Excerpt & Giveaway!

Deep Cut

Series: Permanently Black and Blue, Book One

Author: C.R. Scott

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: April 13, 2020

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 77100

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, Young adult, high school, in the closet, musicians, coming-of-age, family drama

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Synopsis

Shaun’s an outsider. He has a dark past and an even darker habit of cutting himself and burying his emotions under his skin. The only thing he’s got going for him is his guitar and a head full of lyrics.

When Jesse moves to town, bringing big bright smiles and warm blue eyes into Shaun’s dark life, he insists they become friends.

But that’s going to be a problem for Shaun. He’s never had a real friend before. Oh, and he’s also finding himself hopelessly attracted to Jesse’s undeniable charm, which is definitely not going to work out.

Being gay isn’t brutal and Shaun has an image to uphold if he’s ever got a shot at becoming the death metal God he knows he’s destined to become.

Excerpt

Deep Cut
C.R. Scott © 2020
All Rights Reserved

For the first time ever, Jesse almost had a room to himself.

The new house had four bedrooms. It was their house this time, so they could do whatever they wanted with it. They kept the bunk beds though, and as usual, Jesse got stuck with the top while Sam got the bottom.

Already, the room was covered in half-emptied boxes, clothes, various personal items, and discarded fast-food wrappers.

Jesse hung over the edge of his bed so he could see the tiny screen on their TV. His younger brother, Sam, had convinced him to do two-player in Call of Duty. He’d wanted to finish unpacking his stuff, but after an awful lot of complaining on Sam’s part about how completely bullshit it was internet wouldn’t be installed for almost a week, he’d agreed.

They were wasting a perfectly good Sunday evening and had been for the last few hours. Jesse sat with a blank stare, zoned out, the controller hanging loosely from his hands, when a soft voice from the doorway snapped him to attention.

“Jesse, I wanna come up.”

Brian stood in the doorway, a pout on his little round face. He picked his way into the room and stood directly in front of the TV.

“Get out of the way!” Sam’s hands were occupied. He nudged the three-year-old with his foot.

“Stop it,” Brian whined. “Jesse!”

“You should be in bed,” Jesse sighed.

“I can’t sleep. Lissa won’t stop crying.” Brian stepped over a pile of clothes and started up the ladder.

Jesse rolled his eyes, but he dropped the controller and crawled to the edge of the bed. He lifted Brian off the first rung and dragged him to the top bunk.

“Oh, man! I got you,” Sam laughed as he blew Jesse’s character away on-screen.

“Fuck you, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Dude, Brian, go sleep with the twins. We’re busy,” Sam said as he started a new game.

“No.”

“Leave us alone! Go back to your room!”

But Jesse knew that wasn’t happening. Just as Brian had mentioned, he could hear baby Melissa wailing in the other room.

Monica shuffled past their door. She had PJs on, and her hair was bedraggled. The baby quieted somewhat, but that was just because she was getting attention. As soon as Monica tried to go back to bed, Lissa would start up again.

Brian watched Sam and Jesse shoot each other up. After a while, his head started nodding. The toddler slumped onto Jesse’s pillows and was soon fast asleep.

“So…are you nervous about starting school?” Sam asked abruptly.

“No.” It was the truth. What was there to be nervous about? “We’ve been to a million other schools before. This one’s no different.”

“I guess,” Sam said. “But…I don’t know. Those other schools were different— Crap!” he cried as Jesse’s character skillfully sniped his.

“Should’ve ducked,” Jesse snickered. He earned a middle finger for his efforts.

As they waited for a new game to load, Sam returned to the topic of school. “This is different,” he said again. “Like when we were living with Joey, that was temporary.”

“Mmm, another of Mom’s boyfriends,” Jesse agreed.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “But there’s no boyfriend here.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“I don’t know. What if we hate it? We’re stuck here,” Sam said tightly. “This is our home now.”

Jesse hadn’t thought about it like that. They’d been moving around since before he could remember. They’d stayed with friends and moved in with Monica’s many, many boyfriends. But Monica’s dad, their grandfather, had died about six months ago and he’d left them this rundown house in the middle of nowhere. Monica had considered selling it, but after a bad breakup with Joey, the last asshole boyfriend in Detroit, she’d decided to move them halfway across the country to make this hole-in-the-wall their own.

Nothing was ever set in stone, but from the way she talked about it, they’d be here for a while.

“It’ll be fine,” Jesse said.

“But what if—”

“Dude!” Jesse shot Sam in the head as he ducked out from behind a crumbling wall. “Are you going to play or what?”

It was a lame attempt at distraction, but it worked. Sam kicked the frame of the bed. The top bunk shook. “I’m gonna kill you,” he said.

Beside him, Brian stirred and moaned in his sleep.

Jesse sighed. He brushed a hand through Brian’s blond hair and lulled him back to dreamland as the next game loaded.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble

Meet the Author

C.R. Scott is a self-taught writer with a BA in psychology. Her characters are flawed and imperfect and she loves them for it. They urge her to write their stories. She currently resides in the ever-changing climates of Ohio with her husband and two children. This is her first published book, with more to come. You can reach C.R. by sending her an eMail.

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Like the First Moon Landing by Matthew J. Metzger Release Blast, Excerpt & Giveaway!

Like the First Moon Landing

Series: Roche Limit, Book One

Author: Matthew J. Metzger

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: April 13, 2020

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 44800

Genre: Science Fiction, LGBTQIA+, science fiction, lesbian, intersex, trans, discrimination, mystery

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Synopsis

Stranded and injured in deep space, Maggie McLean has one chance at survival—the ship drifting off her starboard side, refusing to answer her distress calls. The ship the whole universe has been looking for.

Maggie most of all.

The Swift vanished without so much as a cry for help. There have been endless conspiracy theories, from aliens to government corruption to wormholes leading to other dimensions, but one thing was certain. She was gone, with all two hundred and thirty-six crew members on board. Including Maggie’s wife.

Maggie’s going to figure out what happened come hell or high water—but she might not like what she finds.

Excerpt

Like the First Moon Landing
Matthew J. Metzger © 2020
All Rights Reserved

Pain.

It was the first thing Maggie knew. A dull throbbing, starting in the fat weight of her brain at the base of her skull and rippling outwards like stones into still water. There was a stabbing sensation in her shoulder, and when she opened up her lungs to breathe, they spasmed and choked.

Everything hurt.

But pain was good, as Ma used to say. Pain was proof of life.

“You and me, we’re like the first moon landing.”

Maggie ran through the rest of Ma’s wisdom. She flexed her toes in her boots. Fingers in her gloves. Gingerly tensed her neck, and roll—

She stopped dead at the wave of intense nausea and took a moment to just breathe through her nose. Don’t be sick. Don’t be sick. When her stomach eased from a violent jerking to a sluggish, sinister churn, she carefully eased her hips and chest over, perfectly in line with one another, and eased into a recovery position on the metal grating.

The grating.

Urgh, no wonder she hurt. She’d been in the pilot’s seat when the asteroid—or whatever it was—had hit. And belted in too.

“You’ll touch down to feel a little rough ground…”

Her lungs still didn’t want to breathe. The band around her diaphragm was only getting tighter. There was nothing else for it—she needed the drugs. And her medical kit was in the top drawer under the console, so she’d have to get up. Sooner rather than later.

Maggie reached up with her left arm. It was like moving through water or sludge, and her body felt almost drunk on the chaos of clamouring nerves all bidding for her attention first. She didn’t dare open her eyes just yet, so groped blindly above her head. She found the bunk frame. Hell. She’d been thrown from the pilot’s chair to the gap under the bunk, and she was still alive to know it. Suddenly, the pain didn’t seem so bad. Better than a broken neck.

“Pain is proof of life.”

She grunted and turned her boots towards the wall. Braced her feet there and swallowed against the vomit rising up through her chest and neck.

“Pain. Proof.”

She pushed.

The sound of her body sliding out from under the bunk was like a landslide off Mount Olympus. The nausea won out, and Maggie shoved herself up on shaking hands just in time to throw up a gutful of stringy, pink-tinged bile onto the grating. Her stomach punched into her diaphragm like a living thing, furious and intent on revenge, and her head burst like a firework.

“—I’m…here…”

The next thing she knew, the smell of sick was in her hair and nose, and there was a damp patch on her cheek.

“Fuck,” Maggie hissed and pushed away from the pool.

The blackout must have been a little while. The pain was worse, but the puddle of sick cold. The fog in her head had eased a little. She could think better. And breathe better too—mostly.

“Get it together,” she muttered and cracked open her eyes.

It was dark. Blissfully, soothingly dark. The emergency lighting was a low blur of soft blue, almost comfortable, like a hot-water bottle on cold winter nights. Maggie fought to control her quivering limbs and sat down on the bunk with a thump. It jarred, a shock of pain bouncing up her spine, and she leaned forward, opening her mouth, and spat another mouthful of pink vomit into the gap between her boots.

“And you’re out looking for worlds unseen.”

First things first.

She was injured. That much was obvious. But no broken limbs or ribs. There might be an internal bleed in her stomach, but if there was, there wasn’t anything Maggie could do about it. Her head felt like a mess though. Gingerly, she reached up and patted her hair. She had shaved her head when she’d gotten her first shutter job, and never grown it out to more than an inch or two of tight, springy curls since. Which made it easy to find the savage cut, the knotted wad of wet hair keeping a lid on it, and the near-dry fountain of blood that had gushed down the back of her neck and shoulders.

“Great,” she muttered, but at least it explained the pain. Her skull felt intact. Lucky, if she’d met the bulkhead head first.

Her neck was stiffening rapidly. Whiplash. A starburst of pain kept reappearing in her shoulder joint—she’d probably briefly dislocated it when the belt had snapped and flung her across the cockpit—and she could feel, even if she couldn’t see, the violent bruising all across her right side. But just bruises. A bit of bleeding. Nothing that wouldn’t fix itself, given enough time.

All in all, she’d live. Probably.

“You and me, we’re like the first moon landing.”

So, on to the second point. Would her ship live?

Maggie was a shutter. The space equivalent to long-haul truck drivers. She piloted single-crewed transport and haulage ships between stations and colonies, on the move for weeks at a time—but at least the antisocial lifestyle attracted good pay, especially for someone without the proper papers like Maggie. She only had a B license, so she wasn’t qualified to land on moons and planets yet, but she’d done her theory and was booked in for her tests on Barrane when she got back from this run. It was a lonely but very well-paid job—and lonely and well-paid was just what Maggie had wanted when she’d applied in the first place.

But lonely in space could be fatal.

Especially lonely in space on a shortcut.

If the ship was damaged beyond her ability to repair it, or she couldn’t get back to the proper trade route, then she would die out here. The delivery wasn’t due for another two months. And she’d been taking a shortcut through uncharted territory to make it in time after having to replace two of the solar batteries at Barrane. One more late delivery and Maggie would be fired. And she was a good pilot. She’d been flying for years on her own without any incidents at all. She could handle a measly shortcut, right?

Apparently not.

Right now, going on the credit seemed like a much better idea than this stupid shortcut. Maggie had been regretting it from that first crackling comms call.

“You’ll touch down to feel a little rough ground…”

She squinted across the cockpit at her pilot’s chair. The top half of the belt was still attached, the bottom half missing. The chair was crooked, but upright. All the lights on the console were flashing in random patterns, and the viewscreen was out. The comms system was blinking, waiting for her reply.

Most insultingly, the fluffy dice Sam had bought her as a joke when she’d gotten her license were gone.

“Fix it. Fix it, then find the dice.”

She lurched up from the bed.

The grating spun underneath her. The cockpit was barely ten feet of space between bunk and chair, but she fell most of it. She caught at the chair with both hands, and her knees collapsed as the whiplash reminded her that falling in any way was an intolerably bad idea.

When she managed to open her eyes again, a red mist clouded her vision, and the sharp taste of iron lingered on her tongue. Her chest tightened, and the black spots of panic and oxygen deprivation clustered around the edges of her eyes.

The drawer was right there.

“…but I’m right here where I’ve always been…”

She dropped into the chair just as her fingers closed around the plastic tube on top of her medical kit, and that first spray in her mouth and throat tasted like foul ambrosia. At the second, she aspirated it properly and felt her chest beginning to open up again.

“…and you’re out looking for—”

With a smirk, Maggie cancelled the stereo. Silence swept in, as soothing as the low light. Trust the damn stereo to keep playing even through—whatever that had been.

Purchase

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

Meet the Author

Matthew J. Metzger is an ace, trans author posing as a functional human being in the wilds of Yorkshire, England. Although mainly a writer of contemporary, working-class romance, he also strays into fantasy when the mood strikes. Whatever the genre, the focus is inevitably on queer characters and their relationships, be they familial, platonic, sexual, or romantic.

When not crunching numbers at his day job, or writing books by night, Matthew can be found tweeting from the gym, being used as a pillow by his cat, or trying to keep his website in some semblance of order. You can find Matthew on Twitter.

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Lucas by Elna Holst Release Blast, Excerpt & Giveaway!

Lucas

Author: Elna Holst

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: April 13, 2020

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 65100

Genre: Historical Romance, LGBTQIA+, FF romance, 19th century, Regency, the Romantic era, ladies, pastor, doctor, Austen continuation, epistolary novel, novel-in-letters, pastiche, queering the canon

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Synopsis

I thought ease would come, here, tucked away in the safe uneventfulness of Hunsford. It would seem I was mistaken.

In 1813, upon her marriage to Mr Collins, the rector of Hunsford Parsonage, Charlotte Collins née Lucas left her childhood home in Hertfordshire for Kent, where she is set to live out her life as the parson’s wife, in an endless procession of dinners at Rosings Park, household chores, correspondence, and minding her poultry. But Mrs Collins carries with her a secret, a peculiar preference, which is destined to turn all her carefully laid plans on their head.

Lucas is a queer romance, a mock-epistolary novel, and a retelling and continuation of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, teeming with Regency references and Sturm und Drang. It is an homage to English literature—and a brazen, revisionist fan fiction. But, first and foremost, it is a love story. Read it as you will.

Excerpt

Heiligenschwendi, near Thun
February, 1852

Darling Izzie,

Enclosed you will find some old papers of my aunt’s—my twice dead aunt!—of the queerest nature. I trust you to burn them before you so much as read a line of them, for that was my downfall. My papa would have them burnt, and as you know, his directions must be followed. Luckily, he did not suspect the exact contents of my aunt’s escritoire, or he would have never trusted me with the office.

My dear, these belles lettres, as we may call them, are really too shocking for words. More shocking even than that vile rake Cleland’s effusions; for, as we know, that is but fiction, whereas, this! I blush to think on the likely veracity of these incendiary epistles. As you shall see—but I forget myself, you shall not see. You must burn everything at once, even this, my prefatory note, for if my papa or your mamma were to find out

— Well!

I long to see you, dear. Switzerland is rather dreary and dull this time of year, which, come to think of it, England is, too, but it has the decided advantage of your companionship. I am eager, very eager, to return and be once more

Your faithful and ever loving,
Lottie

Purchase

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

Meet the Author

Often quirky, always queer, Elna Holst is an unapologetic genre-bender who writes anything from stories of sapphic lust and love to the odd existentialist horror piece, reads Tolstoy, and plays contract bridge. Find her on Instagram or Goodreads.

Website | Instagram

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Belega by Dianne Hartsock Blog Tour, Exclusive Excerpt, Review & Giveaway!

Belega - Dianne Hartsock

Dianne Hartsock has a new MM fantasy romance book out, The Karthagans Book One:

Belega.

The Karthagans have regained their ancient powers of manipulating nature, but at the price of madness. In their lust for control they’ve destroyed their island and most of their race. They come now to Belega where one of them, Camron, seeks domination over the known world.

The Mage has come from the northern continent of Sennia to bring peace, but finding his strength no match for the coming struggle, he passes his abilities on to Natan, who only desires a simple life. Now only Natan has the ability to stop Camron, but the personal cost is more than he imagines.

It is only with the combined strength of his friends, his Karthagan lover, Kavi, and his deep desire to bring peace to the earth, that he finds the courage to overcome Camron and restore balance to the world. The power of the mind is immense.

In this world, mankind has learned to gather the energies of creation to use at their whim. But absolute power corrupts absolutely.

Publisher | Amazon | Amazon UK | Amazon CANBarnes & Noble | QueeRomance Ink


Giveaway

Dianne is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour – enter via Rafflecopter:

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Exclusive Excerpt

Belega meme - Dianne Hartsock
Hello! I’m Dianne, author of Belega, and today I’d like to bring you a deleted scene involving my gruff Captain Bryon. It’s not mentioned in the book, but as a youth Bryon fell in love with the daughter of the richest man in Amara. He courted her, as did all the young men of age, one day taking her to his cabin in the woods. Gathering his courage, he asked her to marry him. As you might suspect, she scorned him, laughed at him, declaring she could never call such a hovel a home.

Heartbroken, shamed, Bryon never brought another woman to his cabin. That is, until he meets Kirstin. In this scene, he’s anxious for Kirstin to visit, doubting she’ll come, knowing he and his home were not good enough for her. And yet he hopes…

~~

Bryon leaned on the handle of his scythe and looked critically at the cabin.  He’d gotten there the day before and had set his plans at once into motion.  He laughed wryly to himself, remembering the sweeping and dusting and airing out of empty rooms. His mother wouldn’t have known him for the boy she’d had to threaten to pick up after himself. 

His smile dimmed at the weather-beaten look of his home. At least it was clean.  He picked up the scythe and worked on the hillside until the sweat poured down his body and the ache had worked its way out of his heart.

            The afternoon passed into evening before he quit.  He’d reached the bottom of the slope and had even begun on the sides of the path.  He felt pleasantly tired and was thinking of supper when a step on the path startled him.  He watched in disbelief as Kirstin walked around the corner.  She stopped when she saw him and Bryon remembered to breathe.

            “What are you doing here?” were his first blunt words, but then he recalled himself and set the scythe carefully against a tree. He went to the girl and took her hands.  She smiled timidly, and it amazed him that she seemed nervous of him.  He couldn’t keep from touching her golden hair. Then he laughed, feeling ridiculous, and broke the spell.

             “Come on, girl.”  He put an arm around her and led her up the slope.  “You can tell me all about it over super.”  His steps faltered as they neared the cabin. What did he have to offer the girl after all but an old shack and a lonely heart?  He swore bitterly under his breath.

            Kirstin looked at his averted face in surprise then pressed her lips together. 

            “Bryon,” she chided and touched his cheek.  Her fingers covered his eyes.  “You’ve seen your home for far too long through her eyes.  Look with your own.” 

            She removed her hand and Bryon cried out. His mother’s flowers sprawled in a mass of color against the gleaming white walls of the cabin while pines towered in the background.  The well Father and he had dug close to the house for his mother sat in a lush field of grass. He caught a glimpse of the generous garden at the back.  He walked up the porch steps and looked in awe at a home with polished floors and hand-carved and cared for furniture.  Mother’s rugs and blankets added color everywhere. 

            “Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely.  He looked into Kirstin’s clear eyes and without thought bent his head and kissed her.  He drew back sheepishly and motioned to the open front door.  “Won’t you come in?”

~~

Thank you for dropping in! And be sure to enter the rafflecopter for a chance to win.


Author Bio

Dianne Hartsock
Dianne grew up in one of the older homes in the middle of Los Angeles, a place of hardwood floors and secret closets and back staircases. A house where ghosts lurk in the basement and the faces in the paintings watch you walk up the front stairs. Rooms where you keep the closet doors closed tight at night. It’s where her love of the mysterious and wonderful came from. Dianne is the author of paranormal/suspense, fantasy adventure, m/m romance, the occasional thriller, and anything else that comes to mind.

She now lives in the beautiful Willamette Valley of Oregon with her incredibly patient husband, who puts up with the endless hours she spends hunched over the keyboard letting her characters play. Dianne says Oregon’s raindrops are the perfect setting in which to write. There’s something about being cooped up in the house with a fire crackling on the hearth and a cup of hot coffee in her hands, which kindles her imagination.

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

Author Website: http://diannehartsock.wordpress.com/

Author Facebook (Personal): http://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/diannehartsock

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/Dianne-Hartsock-Author-107985445959828/

Author Twitter: http://twitter.com/diannehartsock

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/diannehartsock/

Author Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/4707011-dianne-hartsock

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/dianne-hartsock/

Author Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Dianne-Hartsock/e/B005106SYQ/

Review

Dianne Hartsock - Belega COVER - Belega 3445Title: Belega

Series: The Karthagans 01

Author: Dianne Hartsock

Genre: Fantasy

Length: Novel (288pgs)

Publisher: Solstice Publishing (February 10, 2020)

Heat Level: Moderate

Heart Rating: 3 1/2 Hearts

Blurb: .The Karthagans have regained their ancient powers of manipulating nature, but at the price of madness. In their lust for control they’ve destroyed their island and most of their race. They come now to Belega where one of them, Camron, seeks domination over the known world. The Mage has come from the northern continent of Sennia to bring peace, but finding his strength no match for the coming struggle, he passes his abilities on to Natan, who only desires a simple life. Now only Natan has the ability to stop Camron, but the personal cost is more than he imagines. It is only with the combined strength of his friends, his Karthagan lover, Kavi, and his deep desire to bring peace to the earth, that he finds the courage to overcome Camron and restore balance to the world. The power of the mind is immense. In this world, mankind has learned to gather the energies of creation to use at their whim. But absolute power corrupts absolutely.

ISBN: B084P7NJFR

Product Link: Amazon US | Amazon UK

Reviewer: Shorty

Review: Belega is a story about the Karthagan people with great powers who were forced out of their homes by others were terrified of them to the isle of mist. But the isle causes strife between them splitting them into two groups and war. They are all but decimated until Natan, who I really never understood who he was, retrieves them.

This story starts out fast with hardly any descriptions or background of who the many characters are throughout. I found myself lost trying to figure out who was who and what exactly was going on. It was not until almost halfway through that I understood.

Kavi was a very confusing character to me. He ran hot and cold through the story which irritated me immensely. I honestly didn’t like most of the characters in this book. I will say the powers the Karthagans had were intriguing.

Fast paced, action packed with twists and turns but not enough character details. The reader is thrown into the story without any lead ins. I felt like i was missing something from start to finish.

O.k. read for me.

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Out on the Ice by Lane Hayes Audio Book Blast, Excerpt & Giveaway!

Out on the Ice

Series: Out in College, Book 5

Author: Lane Hayes

Publisher: Lane Hayes

Audio Release Date: March 30, 2020

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 6 hrs and 22 mins

Genre: Romance, New Adult, Bisexual, Enemies to lovers, College romance, Athletes, Hockey, Baseball, Humor

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Synopsis

Colby Fischer is a bad boy with attitude and a chip on his shoulder. As a senior at a Southern California college, he knows this may be his last shot. He doubts he’ll ever become the hockey legend he dreamed of being as a kid, but he definitely doesn’t want to be an accountant. Things get interesting when he’s asked to train the new intern at his step-dad’s firm, who happens to be the troublemaker from his econ class. And the one guy Colby can’t stand.

Baseball is Sky Jameson’s life. He’s happy to be back at Chilton for his senior year, but he’s burned a few bridges and has a bit too much free time off-season. He could use the money and something to keep him busy until his season begins. But his accidental crush on his prickly coworker could be a problem. Colby is straight and Sky is in the closet. Their timing isn’t great, but the intense attraction is hard to deny. With his final season on the hockey team in the balance, Colby may have to decide if he’s ready to come out on the ice.

Excerpt

“What position do you play?” Sky asked, pealing the label off his water bottle.

“Right wing. Forward. Think of soccer where the front line moves the ball down the field. We do the same with the puck.”

“I know how it works. I’ve watched a lot of hockey.”

“Have you ever played?” I asked.

“No. Baseball was always number one for me. Besides, hockey is kind of…rough. There’s always a fight. And the game moves so fast, it’s hard to see the puck sometimes.”

“Not if you pay attention.” I raised my beer bottle in a mock toast and grinned. “And I like it rough.”

Sky pursed his lips and stared at me…or maybe he was staring at my throat. I couldn’t tell. “Me too. But not on the field. It distracts from the game.”

“In hockey, it’s part of the game. If you can’t defend yourself, your teammates, and the ice, you have no right to be out there. Might as well take up ice dancing or something,” I snarked, only half kidding. “And no offense, but ice dancing is a hell of a lot more entertaining than baseball. Trust me, I know. I played Little League for a couple of years. I used to beg the coach not to put me in the outfield. Geez, you could take a fuckin’ nap out there some days, you know?”

Sky laughed. “Fuck you. You obviously don’t know what you’re talking about. Baseball is a game of strategy.”

“Strategy my ass,” I huffed, smiling to take the sting from my words…even though I kinda meant it. “It’s one of those weird sports where everyone gets pumped when nothing happens. ‘Oh, it’s a no-hitter. That’s amazing!’ Sure…but nothing fuckin’ happened! No one hit the ball, no one rounded the bases, no one slid to home plate. No one had to even wash their damn uniforms! And you know why?”

“Why?”

“’Cause nothin’ fuckin’ happened,” I replied, taking a long sip of my beer as I let the sweet sound of Sky’s laughter wash over me.

God, he had a great laugh. It made me like him a little more. And yeah, as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I liked Sky. He was smart, talented, easy on the eyes, and he had a sense of humor.

“That just proves baseball players are smarter than hockey players,” he taunted.

“Said no one anywhere ever.” I held my hands up in surrender when he flipped me off. “Hey, I’m kidding. I like baseball fine. I told you I follow the Tigers. I still have the jersey my dad bought me when I was ten. Dude, I’d wear it if I still fit in it. What’s your position?”

“Shortstop. I’ve played almost every position at one time or another but I like it the best. You gotta be quick, have a strong arm, and good instincts. I also have a long wingspan. That helps.”

“Makes sense. I don’t know about wingspan, but you gotta be quick in lightning fast hockey too with quick reflexes. Big ol’ quads help.” I smacked my thighs and chuckled. “Mine are kinda huge.”

Sky gave me a lopsided smile. “I noticed. It’s hot.”

“You think muscular legs are hot?”

“I do. Believe it or not, it wasn’t your sweet personality that made me look twice. It was your thighs.”

I snickered. “That’s weird.”

“Maybe, but it’s true. You always wore shorts to summer school. I used to come in a little late so I’d get a good look at you before I sat down. I purposely didn’t sit next to you because I knew I’d get caught staring. And the one day I did, you were the one who got caught.”

“Are you telling me that all this started because of my thighs?” I asked, narrowing my gaze suspiciously.

Sky nodded. “Basically…yes.”

We held eye contact for a moment then busted up.

And when our laughter faded, the mood changed all over again. I felt that same crackle of heat and sexual energy I always did when I was around him, but this time I knew what it was. And though I might have been unsure, I wasn’t afraid.

I leaned forward on my barstool and motioned for Sky to close the distance. He brushed his nose against mine. I held my breath and waited for him to make a move. Any move at all. When he blinked, I licked the corner of his mouth then pressed my lips to his and closed my eyes.

Available at Audible

Purchase the other books in the Out in College Series

Out in the Deep (Out in College, Book 1)
Out in the End Zone (Out in College Book 2)
Out in the Offense (Out in College Book 3)
Out in the Field (Out in College Book 4)

Meet the Author

Lane Hayes is grateful to finally be doing what she loves best. Writing full-time! It’s no secret Lane loves a good romance novel. An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to well-told love story with beautifully written characters. These days she prefers the leading roles to both be men. Lane discovered the M/M genre a few years ago and was instantly hooked. Her debut novel was a 2013 Rainbow Award finalist and subsequent books have received Honorable Mentions, and were First Place winners in the 2016 and 2017 Rainbow Awards. She loves red wine, chocolate and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband in a newly empty nest.

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Broken Warrior by Jocelynn Drake & Rinda Elliott Cover Reveal

Broken Warrior

by Jocelynn Drake & Rinda Elliott

The Weaver’s Circle Book One

Cover created by DESIGN BY DRAKE

RELEASE DATE: April 24th, 2020

Available to Pre-Order at Amazon

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Clay Green

A brotherhood? Monsters? Goddesses? Magic?

The world has become a strange place.

After a life on the run, Clay Green is rescued by a crazy old lady with a shotgun and an even crazier story about monsters, goddesses, and a secret brotherhood.

Gifted with the power of the earth, Clay must locate his missing “brothers” before invading monsters can destroy everything.

As if that’s not enough to contend with, Clay can’t keep his hands off the man trying to rebuild the plantation house he’s temporarily living in.

Dane Briggs

Something strange is going on…

Dane knew restoring the old plantation house wasn’t going to be an easy job, but at least none of the clients were going to be underfoot. Since losing his wife and child, the only way Dane can keep going is to focus on the work.

But that focus crumbles the second Clay appears covered in blood and barely hanging on to life.

Mystery and danger cling to Clay and the other men who suddenly show up. A smart man would walk away.

Dane chucks smart out the window in favor of hungry kisses and the silken slide of skin against skin. He doesn’t understand what’s happening, but there’s no question that Clay needs him.

He’s just not sure his heart can survive being broken again if something happens to Clay.

Broken Warrior is the first book in The Weavers Circle series. It includes fast-paced action, explosions, hurt/comfort, sexy times, animal shenanigans, wounded hearts, three crazy old ladies, and magic!

Pre-Order Your Copy on Amazon Today!

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Feral Creatures by Tommy Ousslander Blog Tour, Guest Post & Excerpt!

Tommy Ousslander - Feral Creatures BANNER1Feral Creatures - Tommy Ousslander

Tommy Ousslander has a new MM shifter book out:

Feral Creatures

After a brutal attack that almost killed him, Billy discovered that the monsters from horror movies and myth really do exist, not realizing he was one of them. Now dancing and turning tricks at a dive bar called The Molly House, that caters to lowlife supernaturals, Billy searches for a home and the truth of what he really is.

Meeting Brogan, the sexy and dangerous Alpha of a pack of feral werewolves, Billy is drawn into a battle between Brogan and the High Court, the ruling body of the supernatural world.

When they discover the truth of what Billy really is, will he survive the fight to control him?

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CAN

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Tommy Ousslander - Feral Creatures MEME1

Welcome to The Molly House
Tommy Ousslander

To me one of the best parts about writing is the research that goes into a story. This goes for almost every kind of story you might be writing whether it is horror, a romance , and most definitely science fiction. Of course you could just make everything up. It is your story, your world after all but I enjoy when there is a basis in fact.

When thinking of a name for the divey gay bar where Billy works as a gogo dancer and hooker, I wanted it to be one that had some sort of history attached to it and a basis in reality. That is how it came to be called , The Molly House.

Now a molly house was a gay bar in 18th and 19th century England. The most famous owner of a molly house was Mother Clap. It was said she hosted forty plus chaps a night and more on Sundays.  At the time gay sex was outlawed under the Buggery Act of 1553 and you could be fined, imprisoned or put to death if convicted. 

It was said she loved her customers. She was known to provide false testimony on behalf of her customers who were charged with sodomy. It was this act that got Mother Clap arrested and charged.

According to Rictor Norton in the Trial of Margaret Clap. She was found guilty as charged and was sentenced to stand in the pillory in Smithfield Market, to pay a fine of 20 marks, and to two years’ imprisonment. During her punishment, she fell off the pillory once and fainted several times. It is not known what became of her, if indeed she survived prison.

This is where our story picks up.  I thought such a brave woman deserved a little better treatment from history, so I continued her story. After surviving her two year stint in the hellish Newgate prison, Mother Clap fled to the Americas in search of freedom and a new start. In 1730 she opened her new establishment, The Molly House. It became home to the new world’s gay supernaturals that disembarked on America’s shores with all the other immigrants.

Mother Clap lived and died at The Molly House. Her ghost still haunting and keeping a watchful on on her beloved customers.


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Excerpt

Feral Creatures meme
Brogan stood at the side of the bed and looked down at Billy. When he first saw him unconscious in the back of the truck, he almost lost it. The thought of ripping out the twin’s throats flashed through his mind. They were just following orders. His orders, hurt him but don’t kill him. I must be getting soft. What is this fucking kid doing to me?

Billy woke with a start. Nervous and fearful with Brogan leering over him. He propped himself up on his elbows. The sudden movement made him dizzy. He felt the back of his head. The stitches felt weird but didn’t hurt.

“We sewed you up. Just a couple of stitches.” Brogan explained. “You’re a tough little Sonuvabitch.” Was that a smile? “Sorry about the misunderstanding with the twins. Was my fault.” He tried to keep his tone and ego in check. A slight like Billy committed never went unpunished.”So what are we going to do?”

“I gotta couple of ideas.” Fear gave him smart mouth. “Where’s Sheila? What did you do to her?” Billy sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was pissed and concerned for his only friend. This motherfucker lied to me, he played me with what I wanted to hear.

“She’s a tough girl. She knows the score.”

“Why should I believe you? You already lied to me.” Billy was standing his ground. Chin jutted out in defiance. His heart beating fast.

“Go ahead.” Brogan tossed Billy his cellphone. He didn’t like to be challenged, especially by some little pup. He waited while Billy called Sheila. He allowed them only a few minutes of conversation before he cut them off and tried to take the phone back. Billy waved him off and kept talking. Brogan slapped the phone out of his hand. “Don’t defy me boy.”

“Fuck you.”

Brogans face twisted in rage. He grabbed Billy by the throat. His left hand squeezed tight. Billy tried to pry the himself free but Brogan’s grip was solid, unbreakable. Those hands were made to be wrapped around his neck. A perfect fit.

“I don’t know whether to gut ya or fuck ya.” He barked out the words, eyes wide and sparkling with madness. Billy’s face grew bright red but he did not loosen his hold. “No one ever made me feel the way you do. I could have given you the fucking world. Why the hell did ya do a runner?”

There it was . It was the fact the kid left him that twisted his guts. The diamonds were not even a concern at this moment. He was wounded, hurt after being left. Brogan had opened himself and gave a small look into his heart and was rejected.

Billy heard the words and wanted to believe. After all, he wasn’t dead. He clutched at the hand tightening around his throat. He could feel the power coursing through him. Billy’s nature peeked through as he started gettinghard. The tighter the squeeze, the more aroused he became. Brogan watched the twink’s bulge grow as his cock got excited. He grew close to blacking out again but he fought it.

The wolf released his throat and dropped him onto the bed. Billy had a coughing fit and tears ran down his puffy red cheeks. Brogan threw his hands in the air, “For fucks sake, boy.” He was frustrated by the confusingemotions the boy raised up in him.

“Why?” Billy’s voice was raw. ‘Ya wanna know why? Those stones offered me a better life. One where I didn’t have to scrounge in dumpsters for some scraps of food or give a blowjob to some rando for twenty bucks.”

“I told you to stay and ya wouldn’t have to worry about that shit anymore.” His mind raged at the thought of BIlly giving head to some skell, letting them paw at that beautiful body. Violating him.

“Ya think I haven’t heard that line before. Some dude promising me the world, a home. Only to find out it was just some bullshit. That they just wanted to fuck then my ass is kicked to the curb like the trash.” He said. “You, me, we were fucked up out our minds. How could I trust what you said? And believe me, I wanted too. oh, fuck did I want too. I thought I felt a real connect between us, like nothing I ever felt before.”

Billy long denied what and who he enjoyed. The strong hand, taking what it wanted. To give in and let someone dominate him, giving them everything. A man who wanted him with such passion and need. Billy looked atthe man framed between the v of his thighs.

“I hunger for you like no other. ” Brogan broke free and let it all spill. “Not just to plow that fucking sweet ass but the thought of anyone else touching you.” He shook his head. The lustrou black hair falling into his face. “ I alone want to possess you. The thought of another man touching ya drives me mad. I would fucking kill em.” His voice low and growly.

“I want to but … I’m scared.” Oh god yes. Just say yes, let go of all that bullshit. The idea that Brogan would be so jealous to murder over him, excited Billy. It pulled at his twisted sense of love. Would he kill me too? Just jump into the abyss.

“Listen, Billy.” He fell to his knees at the side of the bed, hands rested atop Billy’s knees. “Sheila says we’ve bonded and whether that’s love, I don’t fucking know. I’m not sure I even know what love is but..” he drifted off, not sure of the right word to say. “What I do know is I can’t stand to be apart from you. It’s like a knife in me guts. I want to protect you. To take care of you and see you happy. I ain’t promising you white picket fences and flowers. We live fast and we live hard, come what may. Stop trying to live how they tell us we should live. That bullshit is for the normals not feral creatures like us.” No poetry just honesty. Something in short supply in Billy’s life. “Join our pack and run with us. Run with me?” Please say yes so I don’t have to chain you to this bed and just take what I want.

New tears ran down Billy’s face. He’s right, stop living for them and live for you. Take this chance, give in to it.

“The only love I knew was from my mom.” He tried to summon a clear memory of her but the image was blurred and faded. His heart hurt. “I didn’t even have that for long. I guess we’re both fucked up in that department. Even if you said you loved me, I wouldn’t buy it or even if I did, I wouldn’t know how to handle it. I understand wanting and needing, those I can deal with it.”

“Know this. If you accept me then you are mine. There is no walking away from it. You will belong to me.” He stood up at the edge of the bed, looking down at Billy. Brogan barely maintained control. it was hard to not just take the boy and force him to be his. “So what will it be?”

“So I will be your property for to fuck and beat when it suits ya?” Billed asked. “What every boy dreams of.”

“Oh, I will fuck you and fuck you often but I won’t abuse ya. I ain’t me da who liked to batter the ones he said he loved.” Brogan was serious. “I will protect and care for you, that is what I’m offering.”

“Yes.” The sound came out small but packed a punch. He cried with happiness, fear and release. The head of his cock pushing out of the jock. “Please, take everything I have. Make me disappear.” He whimpered in need. “I will be yours.”

Brogan licked his lips. He was hungry and the beast needed to be fed. Now. There was no way he wasn’t going to fuck this boy right now. After last night and today, his balls ached to unload in him.

He took billy’s face in his hands, his lips hovered over the boy’s. “You are mine now.” His breath hot and heavy. “I wanna swallow you whole.” The big bad wolf was going to devour little red riding hood.

“I need you inside me.” Giving in to brogan and his own appetites was exhilarating. It felt so…good. “Claim me as yours.” Billy unbuttoned his jeans. He started squirming out of them when Brogan grabbed the pant legs and roughly yanked them off.

Brogan crawled up in between Billy’s legs, forcing them to spread wide. Billy groaned under the weight of the big man. Long strong thighs holding him prisoner. There was no escaping this. There will be a reckoning. Billy loved the way Brogan’s hair fell and covered his face. Brogan reared back on his knees, undid the button and zipper of his jeans, pushing them down past his ass, letting out his meat. Rigid and fat, his cock stuck straight out, a piece of iron oozing precum. The size of his hard dick made Billy mewl again, his hole instinctively tightened. The sound triggered Brogan, calling to the wolf within him. It demanded to be released. Brogan spit into his hand then ran up and down his length. He slicked up his cock. Billy’s hips rolled and bucked, anxious and desperate to get fucked. A cat in heat writhing and mewling. Their bodies burned with pent up desire and frustration, with need. His hands dug into Brogan’s sides, demanding he continue.

Shamelessly, Billy reached for his ass and spread his cheeks. His hole presented to Brogan, who leaned in with his hips and pushed into him. He felt that heat as Billy’s ass opened and took in the engorged head. It stretched him wide. Billy bit his lip and whimpered. Brogan almost shot his load when he heard him. The young blond lifted his hips higher in the air to accommodate the hard cock. Billy didn’t have a chance to grow accustomed to the intrusion. One more thrust and Brogan slide in all the way.


Author Bio

Tommy Ousslander - Feral Creatures MEME3

Feral Creatures - Tommy Ousslander
Tommy developed a love of books, from autobiographies to science fiction, at an early age. After trying many careers paths such as soldier, mailman, club promoter and party decorator and with the publication of “Feral Creatures” has finally decided to pursue his first love of writing.

Born in the Bronx, he has lived in a variety of places from Germany to Phoenix. He now lives outside of new York City with his husband and a rotating cast of family and friends who are constantly coming and going.

Author Website: tommyousslander.blogspot.com

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/Author-Tommy-Ousslander

Author Twitter: https://twitter.com/tommyousslander

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ousslander

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/19290131.Tommy_Ousslander

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/tommy-ousslander/

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Tommy-Ousslander

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