New Release – Remedy (A Tulip Farm Romance) by Alex Hall #giveaway

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Remedy (A Tulip Farm Romance)

Author: Alex Hall

Publisher: Madison Place Press

Cover Artist: Rebecca Slather

Release Date: September 2, 2021

Genre:  Contemporary M/Nonbinary romance

Tropes: Sports romance (equestrian), friends to lovers

Themes: Acceptance of change in circumstances, rehab to recovery

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length:  90 000 words/ 240 pages

It is a standalone story and also book one of a series. It does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links

Amazon US  | Amazon UK

Reed helps Peter realize that there is life and love after a life and career-changing accident.

Blurb

At just 28, Peter is one of the youngest athletes ever to secure a spot on Team USA’s Show Jumping roster for the Paris Summer Olympics. With the support a large, equestrian-centric family behind him Peter’s a shoo-in to win individual gold—

—until a freak on-course accident badly injures Peter and the talented mare he’d been riding. Dreams of success in Paris quickly coming apart, he holes up at the family complex, Tulip Farm, to rehab and re-assess. His parents and three siblings try to keep his spirits up, but it’s hard to focus on the future when by night he’s plagued by reoccurring headaches and by day he can barely walk without pain.

Reed Androku has recently chosen to follow their passion: holistic equine rehabilitation. Tulip Farm – an immaculate facility run by the famous McAuley-Griffin clan – seems the perfect place to chase that dream, and when the family unexpectedly opens up Barn A to boarders, Reed jumps at the opportunity. They’ll happily take advantage of roomy stalls, heated arena, and state-of-the-art footing even if it means putting up with Peter Griffin, the family’s youngest son and ex-Olympic hopeful.

Peter needs healing, and a reason to hope. Reed’s got a knack for rehab and a soft-heart for hard cases, but they also have a dangerous secret. Fate throws Peter and Reed together, sparking a passion that could turn into something deeper, but first they must weather Peter’s recovery, the McAuley-Griffin family’s obsessive need to meddle, and Reed’s violent past.

Excerpt 

As far as Peter was concerned, the only thing of worth he could ever be was an Olympic show jumper.

He’d been born into it, after all. His mum was a McAuley. County Kildare stock, and for as far back as anyone bothered to keep track, the County Kildare McAuleys had been horse people. Peter’s maternal grandfather and granduncle had made their fortunes breeding and racing thoroughbreds in Ireland. Peter’s mum, Aine McAuley, was a track rat grown into Ireland’s most decorated eventing star. And Peter’s dad, though no County Kildare McAuley, had plenty of horse chops of his own. Gabe Griffin had ridden to team gold for Great Britain in Barcelona, the same Olympics Aine had tried—and failed by the slimmest margin—to bring home an individual medal for Ireland.

She always said she’d regretted the miss for exactly forty-five seconds, the time it had taken to dismount after her stadium round, toss her reins at her cousin and stand-in groom, Finley, and glance past her disappointed family at the young man with the salt-and-pepper hair watching from the shadows of the ingate.

That young man was Peter’s da. He’d come over from the Olympic stables to get a glimpse of the McAuley winning machine at work and instead found himself captured by a pair of wide violet eyes over a petulant, spoiled mouth. Gabe had already heard more than a few things about Aine McAuley. Her easy way with horses, her exacting eye for breed lines. Her tendency to collect suitors like candy and toss them away again, half-consumed. And her—possibly obsessive—drive for excellence in all things.

“Bad luck,” he’d famously dared say with typical British aplomb and specific Gabe Griffin bluntness as those furious violet eyes attempted to flay him from a distance for the sin of witnessing a McAuley nonperformance. “But not entirely your fault. He’s off in the right hind, don’t you know, just the barest whisper but enough to send him flat over the last three and cost you the time faults.” Hands in his pockets, he shrugged when all three McAuleys glared at him in disbelief. “Like I said, just the barest whisper, easy for even the best of us to miss, but I saw it from up in the risers. If I were you, I’d have him looked at immediately.”

“What the hell do you know about it?” Aine’s father and coach, Shane, had blustered. Gabe was quite clearly wearing the track jacket of a British Olympian and a color-coded tag on a lanyard around his neck that meant he had unrestricted access to the Olympic barns, but that wasn’t necessarily a point in his favor. Quite the opposite, in fact. “And why in God’s name should we listen to the competition?”

Gabe shrugged again. He hadn’t reached so far in life by backing down. “For the horse’s sake, I imagine. He’s a brave fellow, and bold. No matter the gruff show you put on for the papers, Shane McAuley, we each of us know the animal’s welfare comes first, and a bit of healthy competition won’t change that.”

At last those remarkable violet eyes softened.

“The Olympics are hardly ‘a bit of healthy competition,’ Mr. Griffin,” Aine said softly, her accent rolling pleasantly with the music of Ireland. “But you’re not wrong. Oh, stop snarling, Da. I felt it when we landed fence six. A stinger, and after that he couldn’t balance up. Poor Ross.” She stroked the chestnut gelding’s neck. The horse, still blowing hard, sniffed hopefully at her gloved hand in search of a sugar cube. “Let’s hope it’s not lasting.” She tugged a sugar cube from her breeches pocket, smiled a challenge at Gabe. “Right hind, you say? Well. Why don’t you come back with me to the warm-up ring and we’ll look him over.”

They were married less than a year later, and just like any sport horse carefully bred to succeed, Peter’s fate—and that of his three older siblings—was sealed.

***

“Beautiful day for a ride,” Kate Griffin told Peter cheerfully, smoothing long dark hair back from her forehead and securing it into a high ponytail with an elastic slipped from her wrist.

It was the same thing his older sister said before every first round, the same thing she’d said when they were children and he’d ridden his pony, Cricket, for the first time at Devon while she stood at the ingate, all pigtails and wide eyes and quiet confidence, and he’d won the class blue. It didn’t matter whether they were indoors or out, whether he was showing first thing in the a.m. or after dark in the p.m., whether the sun was shining, or they were in the middle of a blizzard. Horse people were a superstitious sort and the Irish a superstitious people, which meant Kate and Peter Griffin were superstitious twice over and just fine with it.

“Remember,” Kate continued as she stepped sideways to avoid being trampled by Annie’s eager, dancing trot. “Six and Seven come up quick, balance her back. And Five will take some leg, what with the Liverpool, and we know how she feels about water in the indoor, poor Annie. She’s not alone. Other people are having trouble.”

About the Author 

Sarah Remy/Alex Hall is a nonbinary, animal-loving, proud gamer Geek. Their work can be found in a variety of cool places, including HarperVoyagerEDGE and NineStar Press.

Author Links

Blog/Website  |  Twitter: @sarahremywrites 

Giveaway 

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win 

an ebook copy plus a $50 Amazon Gift Card.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

Book Blast – Midas Touch: A Christmas Romance by Alex Hall #KindleUnlimited #giveaway

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: Midas Touch: A Christmas Romance

Author: Alex Hall

Publisher: Madison Place Press

Cover Artist: Rebecca Slather

Release Date: November 9, 2020

Genre: F/F Romance

Themes/Tropes: Christmas, childhood friends to lovers

Heat Rating:  3 flames   

Length:  75 000 words/ 208 pages

It is a standalone book.

Goodreads

Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

Blurb

Gwen Cook has returned to Williamsburg, Virginia, after more than a decade away from her family estate. Frankie Porter has spent the last year renovating that same estate, turning the dilapidated Cook mansion into a showpiece. Gwen and Frankie shared a childhood full of hard secrets and ripe with first love. Now adults, their paths cross again and sparks fly.

A HEA with content warnings for PTSD and implied child abuse.

Excerpt 

 The boathouse had barely changed in twelve years. The creek ran quite a bit deeper and wider. Brown water had swallowed up much of the far bank and licked in pools about the base of the boathouse itself. Frankie had to shove back kudzu and sumac as she walked. The soles of her boots sank inches into mud. Tiny pink-and-white wildflowers grew up between the trees, and here and there she spotted a drooping hedge bright with red berries.

She made her way cautiously through the undergrowth until she could touch the old building. Standing against the foundation, she cocked her head and squinted up along brick walls. The boathouse seemed as sturdy as she remembered. Two stories high and crumbling on the outside, it was ruler straight and strong except for the roof, which still sagged but hadn’t given in to the elements and fallen.

“Used to be, they knew how to build to last.” Frankie patted the warm brick.

The structure didn’t tower the way it had in her childhood, but she supposed it wouldn’t. She had grown—her bones had lengthened into adulthood. She’d managed to top five feet, barely. At sixteen, she’d feared she would be stuck forever just above four.

Frankie hesitated, glancing up into the sky. The trees had grown tall, and she could see less of the sun than she remembered. The place was definitely cooler, definitely shadier; but on a warm summer afternoon, shade wasn’t such a bad thing.

She leaned against the boathouse and untied her boots. Stripping off her shoes and socks, she stood barefoot in the mud, regarding the brick walls. Twelve years gone and she was no longer a child. Could she do it?

Of course she could. Was it wise?

Probably not.

But her fingers and toes found the old cracks easily, and before she knew it, she was halfway up the wall. The brick brushed her khaki shorts, leaving brown stains. A branch streaked her white shirt with sap. Frankie didn’t notice. At the top she hoisted herself over the edge of the roof and onto the shingles. She sat very still, holding her breath, waiting to see if the roof would protest. The shingles held, even when she rose to her feet and tiptoed across the top of the boathouse to her old perch.

She looked up and around first, admiring the oak and the dogwood and the ash with their green-as-grass leaves. She sucked in the fragrance of the creek as she brushed her bangs from her eyes. Then she took a deeper breath and looked down.

James Creek glittered below, cut into geometric shapes by dim sunlight. Shadows gathered at the edges of the water and then spread away along the bank. From where she stood, the water looked deep and inviting.

About the Author 

Sarah Remy/Alex Hall is a nonbinary, animal-loving, proud gamer Geek. Their work can be found in a variety of cool places, including HarperVoyagerEDGE and NineStar Press.

Author Links

Blog/Website  |  Twitter: @sarahremywrites 

Giveaway 

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

a $25 Amazon Gift Card

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Follow the tour and check out the other blog posts and reviews here

Book Blast – Earnest Ink by Alex Hall

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: Earnest Ink

Author: Alex Hall

Publisher: Nine Star Press

Published: October 14, 2019

Cover Artist: Natasha Snow

Genre/s: Queer Spec Fic, Sci-Fi/Fantasy, Thriller/Suspense

Trope/s: Found family

Themes: Mystery/adventure

Heat Rating:  1 flame

Orientation: Asexual, Pansexual

Identity: Cisgender, Trans

Warning: Depictions of Trauma, Blood, Violence, Murder,

Eating disorders, Body hatred, Transphobia, PTSD, War

Length: 72 100 words/244 pages

It is a standalone book.

Add on Goodreads

 

Blurb 

While twenty-year-old FTM Hemingway is making an excellent living as a tattoo artist in a near-future version of Hell’s Kitchen, the rest of the country is splintered and struggling in the wake of a war gone on for too long. Technology has collapsed, borders rise and fall overnight, and magic has awakened without rhyme, reason, or rule, turning average unwitting citizens into wielders of strange and specific strands of magic.

Hemingway’s particular brand of magic has made him a household name. Not only is he a talented artist, but his work comes to life. Literally.

When NYC’s most infamous serial killer—the East River Ripper—abducts Hemingway’s best friend, Grace, he has only days to save her. Hemingway teams up with his stoic cop roommate to hunt for the killer and rescue Grace before she becomes the Ripper’s latest victim. But as the duo chase clues to the serial killer’s identity, Hemingway begins to fear the magic he and the Ripper share might eventually corrupt him too. 

 

Buy Links

NineStar Press  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

Smashwords  |  B&N  | Kobo

 

Excerpt 

Earnest Ink

Alex Hall © 2019

All Rights Reserved

I work without speaking because that’s the way I prefer it. The vibration of my machine, the softer buzz of the fluorescent lights overhead, the tap of my foot on the pedal—it’s the best music in the world.

When I hit a ticklish spot, the girl I’m working on gasps, jolting in my chair.

“Don’t move,” I say. And then, with a salesman’s false cheer: “Almost done!”

The girl is sweating down the crook of her neck. She’s got silver glitter paint on her eyelids and cheeks, a new fashion trend I just can’t quite get behind. Under my lights the mix of perspiration and makeup looks like a blurry constellation.

She wanted a bee inked onto her collarbone, one of those tiny honeybees you find on good tequila bottles. Easily done, and she met the cash requirement. She’s eager, nervous, and breathing in and out in little puffs.

I can’t remember her name, but that’s fine. Customer relations is Eric’s job.

There’s another kid leaning over my glass counter, watching eagerly as I work. “Does it hurt?” he asks. “When the magic happens?”

The bee’s fat yellow thorax wriggles from side to side as it begins to wake, fighting the pressure of my needle, hungry for life.

“It looks like it hurts,” the kid says. I ignore him.

One minute more and—thanks to my peculiar magic—this bee will fly free.

I’m perched on a swivel stool, a wet paper towel in my hand to wipe away ink. It’s too hot in my studio, even with the industrial fans whirling overhead and the door propped wide open. Evening light slants in through the door and the north-facing, floor-to-ceiling window panes that look out onto West Forty-Sixth. It’s muggy, too warm for New York in October, and all of Hell’s Kitchen is wilting, including my client.

“What does it feel like?” the kid demands. He’s leaving greasy fingerprints on the surface of the glass as he strains to get a better look at what I’m doing. I study him out the corner of my eye, wiping sweat off my nose with the back of my wrist before it drips on my customer. He looks like one of the street punks who have taken to running in packs near the cruise terminals, sleeping in old, abandoned cargo containers and panhandling up and down the marina.

He’s skinny and tall, hair dyed an unsettling violet and styled into spikes all over his head. He’s got a silver ring in his septum and more hoops in his ears; his eyelashes are coated with purple mascara to match his hair. Green glitter paint sparkles on his lids. His T-shirt and jeans are torn and dirty, and he’s got a pack of black-market cigarettes rolled into one sleeve against his upper arm.

 

 

 About the Author 

Sarah Remy/Alex Hall is a nonbinary, animal-loving, proud gamer Geek.

Their work can be found in a variety of cool places, including HarperVoyager, EDGE and NineStar Press

 

Author Links

Blog/Website  |  Twitter: @sarahremywrites 

 

Follow the tour and check out the other blog posts and reviews here