The Last Son Of Venus by Dion Marc #kindleunlimited #giveaway

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Book Title: The Last Son Of Venus 

Author and Publisher: Dion Marc 

Release Date: January 29, 2022 

Genre: MM Dark Urban Fantasy  

Tropes: Fated Mates, Size difference, Alpha Top 

Themes: Trust yourself, don’t follow anything blindly, magic, gods, good vs evil  

Length: 87 000 words/330 paperback and 340 hardcover 

Heat Rating: 4 flames

It’s the first book in a planned series and ends on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

Paperback or Hardcover also available from

B&N  |  Angus Robertson

Darkness hungers for the child of love. 

Blurb  

Alone and in London for the first time, Alex Anderson is being hunted by the darkness as the fates have seen fit to turn his dream holiday into his worst nightmare before he even steps foot out of the airport. 

An archaic evil hungers for him and will stop at nothing to possess the  twenty-two-year-old and the coveted secrets that have been hidden from Alex his whole life. 

All that stands in their way is a two-and-half-thousand-year-old spartan  Commander named Nikos and his fellow guardian sidekick Jin; a pink haired descendant of the goddess Hekate. 

Nikos will move heaven and hell to protect Alex even if that means protecting him from himself. 

When boy meets man sparks fly and an instant bond is felt, a connection that feels as old as the fabric of time. But Alex must first learn to trust Nikos and Jin while fighting his anxieties that have controlled his life if he has any  hope of surviving what’s to come. 

The Last Son Of Venus is the first in the fast-paced LGBT fantasy romance series of the same name featuring queer male characters, high fantasy creatures, magic and the true gods of old. The Last Son of Venus will take  you on a long multi-series journey to a well-deserved HEA. So come and join Alex and Nikos and see what the Fates have in store. 

Excerpt 

Bitter wind violated my exposed flesh, sending a deep chill to the very core of my bones.  Mother had warned me that London was cold, but I thought she meant cold like Melbourne in  winter, not winter in Antarctica. If it wasn’t for the fact that my jumpers were all packed down at  the very bottom, I would have stopped and added an extra layer of protection. But I was cold  and feeling far too lazy to reorder my bag, so I went without. Yes, I was an idiot. 

As per the map’s instructions, I turned right onto Gillingham Street. It was becoming really 

hard to focus on the map because the streets were barely lit. I cursed myself inwardly that I  didn’t just buy a portable phone charger, but I would be sure to rectify my error first thing  tomorrow. My goodness, this would be a lot smoother if I was using my phone’s Google Maps.  Anyway, what was done was done. 

For a Saturday, there was very little nightlife, which I thought was odd considering what I knew  about Londoners and drinking, although I have to say my knowledge on the subject was like  ninety-five percent based on Geordie Shore reruns. But still, there was not a soul on the street. 

I could feel my anxiety grow; it wasn’t helped by the fact that some random man told me  someone was trying to kill me—though he wasn’t some random man, was he? He knew my  name. I felt a shiver run up my arms; I didn’t think I could feel any colder. Maybe I should have  stayed and heard him out before running away…again, if I had, maybe he had a portable phone  charger. 

Looking back down at the map, I estimated I had maybe another six-minute walk ahead,  although I wished I had just paid for the stupid cab fare, but I really couldn’t justify the cost for,  what, maybe four hundred metres. I walked further every day on my morning run. 

The light flickered in the lamppost above. How strange. It flickered again, but this time, it didn’t  light back up. I was plunged into darkness as the rest of the streetlights also extinguished. 

THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP 

My anxiety started to peak, and my instincts told me to get out of there fast. All of a sudden, I  felt eyes on me. Shit shit shit. My pace quickened into a slight jog, my bag swinging heavy  behind me. 

Why did it feel like the approaching darkness was watching me? I looked up to the sky where  once a moon sat giving light to the sky, but now it was gone, shrouded by darkness. I started to  shake  uncontrollably; I couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or my anxiety. Both seemed to be at war for  dominance over my body and mind. 

A sound emerged through the darkness, muttered voices. I started to run, every fibre of my  body telling me to do so. My flight response was fully active, I flew down the street, but the  voices seemed to be gaining on me. They were now close enough to hear what it was they were  chanting. “Consumptura est lux tenebris.” They repeated it over and over. 

I crossed the street in mere seconds, but was stopped from going further by a gate of iron. I  turned to go around, but to the left of me, I found that the men were closing in on me. Looking  to the right, they were doing the same yet only metres away. 

Fuck fuck fuck, my only option was to jump the fence. It wasn’t very tall, so I knew I could make  short work of it. I put my hands on the spikes and pushed down, lifting my body. I swung my  legs up and jumped down. The hem of my shirt got caught on a spike, lifting my shirt up,  trapping my arms. “FUUUUCK!” I yelled, trying to fumble myself free. I was shaking so violently,  I could barely unhook it, the process taking minutes rather than seconds. 

It came loose just as the men closed in. It was then that I realised my duffle bag’s strap must  have also gotten caught on the spike as it lay broken just on the other side of the fence, but I  could clearly see the men’s robes of red now. I hadn’t the time to retrieve it. I’d have to let it go  and hope I found it later after I had made it to a police officer. 

Even the darkness seemed to draw dimmer. How was that possible? Turning, I started to run,  pushing past plants and shrubs, pulling my shirt back down as I ran. 

Their chant suddenly changed, I could now hear their voices ringing in my head as if they were  whispering right into my ears. “Arbores et plantae saxa animari, prohibere eum.” Their chant  had changed. It felt as if the trees were drawing closer, which couldn’t be so. 

Something grabbed my foot. I let out a scream as I fell to the ground hard. What was that? I  looked around, but all I could see was grass. I must have tripped over a root or something,  though I couldn’t see one. Getting back on my feet, my left ankle felt swollen, and as I put  pressure on it, I let out a loud scream. I hoped against hope that it was just twisted and not  broken. I tried to run, but the pain was just too great. 

CRASH. The gate lifted from the ground and flew into a tree. The robed men continued to follow  me. FUCK.

“HELP! Someone, anyone, help me!” I shouted. 

One of the men raised his hand at me, and my voice faltered. I tried to let out a scream, but my  voice was gone. What in the name of Ursula the sea witch was this? All I could do was try  limping away. 

Roots lifted from the ground before my very eyes, spraying moss into the air, leaving the earth a  maze of traps, clearly designed to stop my escape. What was I to do? I tried to hop over them,  the pain forcing tears to fall from my eyes. But the pain didn’t stop me. I continued to push  myself, for my life clearly depended on it. 

“Corrumpam vineam eius,” shouted one of the robed men. Instantly, vines fell from the trees  and launched themselves at me. I ducked and missed the first one, but the rest found their  target, instantly forcing me to the ground, wrapping around me like dangerous pythons. 

The roots curled up, pulling me to face the robed men, forcing me to watch as they approached.  The men were dressed in robes of red. I could just make out a crucifix scar on one of the men’s  outstretched arms. Wrapped around their hands were what looked to be rosary beads, but  something looked wrong. It seemed like the beads dug into their hands, drawing out a dark  fluid. 

The wind changed, and the smell of metallic ooze hit my sinuses, causing my nose to curl. That  answered the question of what the fluid was: it was blood. I struggled with everything left in my  body, but it was no use, the vines just grew tighter and tighter, almost to the point of breaking  bone. 

 “Help me,” I prayed inwardly. “Someone, please.” 

A man in the centre stepped forward chanting with the others, “Accipere auferat divina virtute.”  Something jabbed into me sharp like a needle, causing unimaginable pain to flow through me. I  screamed and screamed, but no sound escaped me. Whatever it was it felt like it was crawling  through my veins. 

He continued forward towards me, chanting. Only a few feet away, I could now clearly make out  his face that was hidden by a hood. He looked to be in his mid-fifties with a full white beard,  long hooked nose, and beady black eyes. He kneeled beside me and raised his outstretched  hand over my face. I tried to close my eyes, but they were forced open. The man squeezed his  palm into the rosary beads, which I could now see were made of jagged barbed wire that cut  into his flesh. As the man squeezed, blood fell like water droplets over my face. On impact with  my flesh, it sizzled like acid; it smelled like it too. I was truly dead. My only thought was on my parents, hoping they would be able to get past my death. My vision started to fade to black.  This was the end of me. My eyes finally closed. I had no strength anymore. Maybe death  wouldn’t be so bad? And with that thought, it all went silent. 

BANG! 

The earth reverberated. There was loud running, yelling, and what sounded like sandbags  hitting a wall, but I couldn’t open my eyes to see. They felt like they were welded shut. 

“You must continue the chant!” shouted a voice that felt like spiders crying in my ears. 

The chanting started again. “Accipere auferat—” But was cut off mid-sentence as what sounded  like thunder struck the earth. I needed to run, move, get up, break the bonds holding me. My  brain told me this, but it was as if I was buried alive. 

Something dropped beside me. It radiated warmth. I wanted to lean into it. I tried to but failed. I  wanted it closer. “Please come closer,” I begged the universe, and by some grace, it did. I felt a hand on my cheek; it was warm to the touch. Who was this? What was this? Again, I tried to  open my eyes but failed. I started to panic again. This couldn’t be the end. My mind started to  race. Mentally, I was thrashing back and forth, wishing my body to do the same. This feeling of  disconnection was the scariest thing I had ever felt. 

“By Zeus, Alex, gods fucking dammit, your lips are blue,” growled a familiar voice. Was it the  Adonis? It sounded like him, and for some unexplainable reason, I hoped it was him. I could feel  his hands on me. Everywhere he touched, I felt warmth. 

“Jin, we’re going to need a recovery charm,” he yelled at an unknown person. 

“Babes, I am fucking busy if you didn’t realise, you know, holding off the Priests of Bellum  Sacrum,” bit back an unknown, effeminate voice. 

“Fuck it all to Hades, you couldn’t have just come with me at the train station.” The Adonis’s  voice turned gravelly. But I couldn’t follow him at the train station because he was a stranger. I  didn’t know him; therefore, I couldn’t trust him. But was he here now to save me? So maybe  that meant I could trust him? 

“Fuck it, we’ll have to swap,” called the Adonis back to the person he called Jin, I assumed. 

No, don’t leave me! He can not leave me. Don’t take the warmth away. I’m so very cold. As if he  could hear me, he assured, “Don’t worry, Alex, I’ll be back.” Then he was gone. The coldness set  back in, his warmth only a haunting memory.

Thunder struck the earth again; there were more screams of pain and terror. The smell of  metallic ooze grew almost too strong to possibly bear. A thud beside me. Was it the Adonis? It  couldn’t be because this person didn’t radiate warmth like he had. Was he friend or foe? 

“Queen, don’t even stress, okay, I’m here to help you, boo.” It was that voice again; it was  distinctly fem, but like fem male, not a fem female. I assumed it was Jin, but I really wished I  could open my eyes and stop all the guesswork. 

 “Álysoi kaí desmá nýn spázete.” I felt warmth all over my body. Suddenly, I felt weightless like I  was flying in the air. The darkness began to fade as a white light came towards me. I tried to  meet it halfway. 

Light burst into my reality as my eyes flew open, temporarily blinding me as my eyes readjusted.  A man who couldn’t be any older than myself stood over me, his hair fairy-floss pink, kept neat  and short on the side with a front fringe that covered the tops of his brows. 

“Is he awake yet?” yelled the Adonis from somewhere just out of my field of view. “Yes, fuck, give me a second, Miss Bossy Tiger,” snapped the pink-haired man. He turned and spoke to me, trying for a soothing voice, but came off very condescending. 

“Hi, Alex, my name is Jin. I’m going to need you to stand up. Can you do that for me, dolls?” But  wasn’t I tied to the ground by vines? 

“Jin, get him the fuck up now. We need to move!” said the Adonis, running back into view. “I’m  trying,” he responded. 

“Then try harder.” 

Before I could process what was happening, one of the robed figures instantly appeared 

behind the Adonis, bloodied dagger outstretched ready to strike, going for the killing blow.  “NOOOOOOOO!” I screamed, sending out a blast of energy that felt like it came from my 

very soul. I couldn’t let the Adonis die. 

Gusts of power forced the robed man into the air, flying back with a loud crunching sound 

into a tree. The dagger burst into smoke. It took me a moment to realise what it was I had done.  My body retracted inwardly, instantly forming a ball. What had I just done? I started to rock 

back and forth, tears falling from my eyes.

THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP 

I was a freak, and I may have just killed someone. I needed my mother to tell me it would be  okay, but she wasn’t there, so I didn’t know what to do. I needed to know I didn’t just kill  someone. “Shhhh, calm down, it will all be okay,” said Jin softly. 

But it wasn’t going to be okay; nothing was. It would never be okay again. “Right, fuck this. Get the fuck up now, idiot, before you get us all killed,” growled the Adonis. 

I just looked at him, like was he kidding? Like really, was he kidding? The rudeness. I was 

going through something. Instantly, my anxiety and grief turned to anger like a light switch. I  was standing up, pointing my finger at him. “Who the hell do you think you are? Do not EVER  talk to me like that again, do you understand?” 

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly; the barest whisper of a smile ghosted his face.  “That got you up, now didn’t it?” 

About the Author  

Scottish Australian author Dion Marc lives and breathes queer art. Whether he is painting, writing, sewing or dancing naked in the moonlight he does it with pride. He is a practising  Hellenistic polytheist who believes in healing the world one hug at a time and that drinking tea without a biscuit is a horrendous crime. 

Dion has spent over eleven years working full time in film and television as a Makeup Artist, Hairdresser, Wig Maker and Costume Designer. For the last year Dion has been working on the award-winning theatrical shows Hamilton, Moulin Rouge and more recently full-time on Harry Potter and the Cursed Child as a hair and makeup artist. 

Author Links

Blog/Website  |  Facebook Group  |  Instagram

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one of five DELUXE eBook copies of ‘THE LAST SON OF VENUS’ 

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New Release – Blooded by Nat Kennedy #giveaway

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Book Title: Blooded

Author: Nat Kennedy

Cover Artist: Silvana Sanchez – Selfpub Designs

Release Date: September 25, 2021

Genre: Fantasy/Vampires

Tropes: Hurt/comfort, antagonists to allies/lovers, past student/teacher, vampire blood feeding, vampire blood bond 

Themes: Redemption, Personal Acceptance 

Heat Rating:  4 flames   

Length:  113 500 words/290 pages

It is a standalone book and does not end on a cliffhanger.

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Buy Links

Amazon US   |   Amazon UK 

How far will two sorcerers go to save humanity? Will they give up their lives? Will they give up their hearts?

Blurb 

A broken mage. A penitent vampire. Can they put aside the horrors of the past to save each other? 

Plagued with erratic. volatile magic, Nicodemus Green focuses his entire life to stop an evil sorcerer who brainwashes or kills anyone in his path to domination.   Ten years into this crusade, Nick stumbles upon his former Academy instructor in the Austrian Alps. The strict and pious Byron Domitius has cloistered himself in an isolated manor. Alone and starving, he hates the twisted, damned creature he has become.

A prophecy calls for Nick and Byron to bond by blood to finally bring an end to the sorcerer’s hidden agenda.  The two are forced to see beyond their shared past, and Nick finds himself desiring more from his old instructor than just his magic. But are these emotions real, or do they come from the heat of their bond?

Excerpt  – Stargazing

They stood side by side, almost close, looking up at the twinkling stars. Byron pointed, and Nick followed his finger to the sky.

“Perseus,” Byron said. “Do you see that, the upper right branch of Perseus? Do you know what I’m talking about?”

“I had astronomy with you two years in a row. Or did you forget?”

“I didn’t forget. I nurtured the assumption that you and your gang of goons had more important things to do than pay attention in my class.”

“Goons? We did pay attention. I know the constellation.” He didn’t remember it from Byron’s class, though. They had a Mentor of the Month who lived at an observatory near the top of Mt. St. Helens in Washington, and they’d spent hours staring at the stars. It had been windy and cold, and the sky had been clear, the stars brilliant.

“Fine. That star, the bright one, is Algol. It means Demon Head. Fitting for the constellation that is supposed to hold the head of Medusa.”

Nick hmmed to show he was listening. Byron’s voice was soothing, deep and quiet in the dark of night. Comfortable. Safe. “Algol is actually a tertiary star, but the third star is so weak, it puts off little shine. It’s used by celestials as a binary system to imbue power into obsidian.”

“A twin star.” Suddenly invested, Nick gazed up with a sense of wonder. “Is that the power that was in my obsidian, sir?”

Byron nodded, then turned to Nick, his dark eyes fathomless, his face young and smooth and illuminated from above. “Yes. There are two stars there, circling one another. Their individual gravitational pull keeps them in a perfect orbit, tethered in their eternal spin. And together, they are brighter for it,” he said softly, reverently. The air felt heavy, and then Byron faced the sky.

Nick watched his old professor out of the corner of his eyes, unmoving, like a statue, gazing upon the night sky with a depth of sorrow and yearning Nick couldn’t understand, never could understand, even after his years of wandering. He wanted to reach out, touch him, perhaps melt his cold flesh, make him come alive with contact, and then he realized he was staring and thinking inappropriate things.

He cleared his throat.

“Well, I should get back in, Byron. Enjoy your evening.”

Byron slowly looked down at him, a small smile on his lips, not a smirk, but a close cousin like he could read Nick’s thoughts. Felt Nick’s desire like a breeze on his arms.

“You as well.”

About the Author 

Nat Kennedy writes fantasy fiction of all kinds.  She strives to create engaging, plotty romantic stories.  In her worlds, Heroes abound.  She lives in the Pacific Northwest where the rain keeps the world green.  Find her online at natkennedy.com or on IG natkennedybooks. 

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Newsletter Sign-Up  |  Instagram  |  Goodreads

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Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win one of the following:

a $20 Amazon Giftcard

an ebook copy of Blooded

 an ebook copy of Edge of Desperation 

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New Release – The Art of Living by Abrianna Denae @AbriDenae #giveaway #KindleUnlimited

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Book Title: The Art of Living 

Author: Abrianna Denae

Cover Artist: Pretty in Ink Creations

Release Date: June 10, 2021

Genre: Contemporary gay romance

Tropes: Single dad, hurt/comfort, office romance, slow burn

Themes: Trust, meddling family

Heat Rating: 3 flames     

Length: 35 000 words/ 90 pages

It is a standalone book, though the reader may be interested in The Gift of Believing, a companion book featuring the MC’s son: mybook.to/GoB

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Letting go is the hardest thing a person can do…

Blurb 

Robert Harper has spent the past seventeen years living for his son. He doesn’t know who he is if he’s not being a caregiver and protector all rolled into one.

Niall Ross is finally ready to make a life of his own. After years spent making sure his younger brother had everything he needed, it’s time for Niall to discover who he is.

All it takes is one glance across a crowded meeting room for the men to feel a connection, but Robert is terrified his life is too complicated for the other man. Luckily, Niall has patience in abundance. With a little help from Robert’s meddling family, the two begin a tentative relationship.

Just as they’re finding their footing, all of Robert’s worst fears come to life and he falters under the pressure. Niall takes the challenge to show Robert that he’s a safe place to lean on, but when his own life begins to unravel, he places his heart in Robert’s hands. When two independent men are forced to trust each other will the love win out, or will vulnerability and fear cause them to lose the best thing they didn’t even know they had.

Excerpt 

“You really want me to date?”

Garrett nods. “I want you to live your life. I know you’re going to argue and say that you have everything you need with me, and Uncle Jared, and Sam. Maybe that’s true, but I also can’t help but feel guilty because if I wasn’t me then maybe you’d have found someone else by now.”

“Garrett, no, you know that’s not true,” I say gently. “Those other people I dated when you were younger, they didn’t last because they weren’t right for our family. If anyone can’t handle me and everything I come with, then they’re not worth my time.”

He studies me with those dark, wise eyes of his. “Does this mean you’ll give Niall a chance then? Because he’s different, I can feel it.”

Shit. I walked right into that one.

“Yeah,” I sigh. “I’d be open to trying.”

Garrett smiles and whips out his phone. I don’t bother asking who he’s texting, since the pieces are starting to slowly fall into place. I look at Presley, “They planned this, didn’t they?”

Pres smiles and nods. “Jared thought you both needed a little intervention.”

I shake my head and laugh a bit because my family is insane.

Garrett is still texting away while Presley and I clean up the kitchen. I try to tell Pres that he doesn’t need to help since he and Gare cooked, but he waves me off.

I just get the dishwasher started when my phone rings.  The display reads Niall and my mouth suddenly goes dry while my stomach begins to tie itself into knots.

Both boys stare at me as I accept the call. “Hello?”

“Hi,” pause, and then Niall laughs, “This is more awkward than I thought it’d be.”

I smile and turn away from the teenage busybodies. “I seriously doubt whatever you have to say is more awkward than the dinner I just had.”

He laughs again. “They tried to butter you up with food, huh?”

I groan. “Yes. When’d they get to you?”

“Sam talked to me this afternoon. Then they added me to a group chat a few hours ago and promptly blew up my phone with texts about twenty minutes or so ago.”

I sigh. “I’m sorry about them.”

“It’s fine,” Niall assures. “They’re just looking out for you.”

“They’re nosy and need to learn how to mind their own business.” I look over my shoulder to find Garrett and Presley sitting at the table, hanging onto my every word. Shaking my head, I stride from the room in search of some privacy.

“So if I were to ask you to dinner, you’d say no?”

“I guess you should ask and find out.”

Niall chuckles a bit. “Will you have dinner with me, Robert?”

My heart stutters in my chest and it takes a moment for me to get my mouth working. “Yes,” I finally manage to say.

“Great. Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is perfect.”

“I’ll text you the details unless someone else does it for me.”

I snort. “That’s a high possibility. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” he repeats. “Have a good night, Robert.”

“You too.”

The line goes dead and a part of me mourns the loss of his voice. Taking a steadying breath, I let the giddy feeling of a first date wash over me. I’ll never tell my family this, but I’m glad they decided to interfere with my life. I never would have had the guts to do this myself.

Tomorrow can’t come fast enough.

About the Author 

Abrianna Denae is a twenty-four-year-old author living in Northern California. An English major, she has always had a passion for writing.

Deciding to sit down and write one of the many stories that had plagued her mind for years was the easy part—finding the time to do it was a different story.

Caffeine is her best friend, and sleep is her worst enemy.

A lover of books that make the reader feel something, she tries to incorporate as much of her real-world views and feelings into her stories as she can.

Social Media Links

Facebook  |  Facebook Group  |  Twitter  |  Instagram

BookBub  |  Goodreads Author Page  |  Amazon Author Page  

You can also email her at authorabridenae@gmail.com

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Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

either a $20 Amazon gift card or one of two ebooks from the author’s backlist.

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Lawful Attraction by Elouise East @EastElouise #KindleUnlimited #giveaway

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Book Title: Lawful Attraction

Author: Elouise East

Publisher:  Elouise East

Cover Artist: Maria Vickers

Release Date: June 3, 2021

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance

Trope: Opposites attract

Themes: Protecting those they care about; life, love, family and beating the odds

Heat Rating: 4 flames    

Length: approx 70 000 words

It is the final book (book 9) in the Crush series, but is a standalone story.

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Universal Link  |  Amazon US  |   Amazon UK 

There’s a fine line between protecting and stalking…

Blurb

An MM romance about life, love, family and beating the odds, especially when it involves a police officer and a dancer.

There’s a fine line between protecting and stalking…

Logan has unwavering loyalty to the law, and when he finds Bastien in a precarious situation, his protective instincts flare up to an all-time high. His need to help overshadows everything else, including his sense. Unfortunately, the dancer doesn’t want his help.

What Bastien does for a living doesn’t mean he has no morals. He has to live, and his wages and tips don’t always cover everything. He’s glad he doesn’t have anyone who relies on him because he can barely make ends meet working all the hours of the day. When a so-called friend turns on him, who does he have left?

Can they put their differences aside and realise what is right in front of them?

Excerpt 

“Taylor! Walker! You’re up!” their chief yelled from the door of his office. “Homicide.”

Logan grimaced but shoved away from his desk, checking that his phone and keys were in his pockets, then grabbed his coat from the back of his chair. They jogged down the cubicles and out of the station into the drizzle, carrying on until they reached Logan’s car. He peeled out of the car park and headed towards the address that Ava had immediately brought up on her phone.

“There’s not much information on here. Woman, late twenties, found on her living room floor. The neighbour looked through the window after the victim hadn’t opened the door for their appointment and saw her.”

“Wonderful.” Logan clenched his hands around the steering wheel and dropped his neck to the side, a crack easing the tension before repeating on the other side.

They raced their way through the streets until they reached the relevant house, then pulled up at the kerb. Both exited quickly, showing their badges to the police officers on the scene before heading up the path through the well-maintained garden of the detached bungalow. It wasn’t a house he would’ve expected a woman in her late-twenties to own unless it had been an inheritance, but he knew better than to stereotype.

Ducking under the top of the front door—his six-foot-two height unable to fit through otherwise—he headed to the living room, mindful of the low wooden beams dotted around the house.

The living room was comfortable and homely, if old-fashioned, which gave more precedent to the place being inherited. The blonde, slender woman lying on the floor with her clothes askew looked out of place in the room. Several police officers were hanging around, talking, while one of the photographers took photos of the body, the intermittent flashes doing nothing to help Logan’s headache.

His gaze examined the scene, not moving any closer to the body. After several minutes, something out of place caught his eye. “What do you see, Ava?”

Ava stepped to his side and didn’t answer, but he knew she was scanning the room. Her breath caught, and he knew she’d seen it. “Why does she have a kitchen knife in the living room?”

“Good question. Simon,” he said, getting the photographer’s attention, “Could you ensure you get pictures of the knife on top of the mantelpiece, please?”

His eyes widened as he lifted his head. “I didn’t even see that. Good catch.”

“Just doing my job,” he muttered distractedly, still studying their surroundings. “Officer?” The group of police officers turned towards him. “Could one of you give us the rundown?”

The older of the three stepped forward, crossing his arms over his chest. “The neighbour called it in when she came to collect the lady for their usual morning appointment. Apparently, they always go jogging at eleven, so when the lady didn’t answer, the neighbour was worried and checked through the window when she didn’t hear her coming to the door.”

“Does the lady have a name?”

“Sure.” The police officer pulled out his notebook and flicked through several pages before saying, “Miss Winona Conrad.”

Logan frowned. “Why does that name sound familiar? We’ve not got any cases with that name, have we?” He glanced at Ava, who shook her head. Staring back at the deceased, he tried to figure out where he’d heard her name before because he didn’t recognise her face. Unable to figure it out, he brushed it off and continued asking the officer questions, noting down his responses in his own notebook.

When he had enough information, he stepped closer, continuing his questioning but with the forensic pathologist. She wasn’t able to give him many details but enough for him to start gathering facts. It seemed Miss Conrad had been dead for approximately twelve hours.

“Thanks, Kat.”

He returned to Ava, who had disappeared into the kitchen. “We need to speak with the neighbour.”

Ava nodded and followed Logan to the front door. “Simon, could you please photograph the back door and the knife block in the kitchen. Thanks.” Logan raised his eyebrows. “The knife was one from the kitchen. There was a missing spot in the block, and the handles match.”

“So, the killer came through the back door, maybe?”

“That’s my guess.”

“Why?”

“There was a scrape on the back door as if it had been forced open using something sharp,” she answered.

“Good work.”

She beamed at him. “Thanks. You’ve taught me well.”

About the Author 

I am Elouise East but feel free to call me Elli. I write sweet and steamy connections in gay romance. I also touch on taboo stories under the name Elouise R East.

Books that tell the stories where friendship and family are the focal point – be it blood family or chosen – is very important to me. That’s why I include a variety of personalities, talents, ages, situations and abilities as I believe a story needs, or a character needs. I want my characters to be real, to be relatable, to be free to have whatever views they tell me they have. And trust me, most of the time, I do not have any say in the matter!

My characters come to life on the page for me as well as my readers. Their stories unfold in front of me, and I have very little input into how they want to be shown. Just like real life, the lives of my characters change with every choice, every interaction and every conversation. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I write books that are emotionally realistic, even if liberties are taken with other aspects of my stories. I don’t know any other way to write. It comes from deep inside.

Who am I? A single parent to two children who make life worth living. An avid reader who still devours every book she can get her hands on. A student of learning about any subject that takes her fancy. An author of books she would read herself. And a romantic at heart who loves anything cheesy. 

Who’s in?

Author Links

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Giveaway 

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win 

one of two Signed Paperback copies of Lawful Attraction 

or 1x $15 Amazon gift card

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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New Release – Stolen Heart by Kristian Daniels #giveaway

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Book Title: Stolen Heart

Author: Kristian Daniels

Publisher: FriesenPress

Cover Artist: FriesenPress

Genre/s:  M/M Romance

Trope/s: Friends to lovers

Themes: Coming out, Forgiveness, Love, Hate crime

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 60 000 words/284 pages

It is a standalone book.

Add on Goodreads

Buy Links 

Amazon US  |   Amazon CA  |  Amazon UK 

Kobo  |  Friesen Press

Will Elliott’s past dampen his new life?

Blurb 

Life is better with you.

As a teen, Elliott Denison grapples with life, love and sexuality. His heart had been shattered every time his parents pushed him away. Life had forced him to be strong enough to endure Stanstead’s biggest bully and strong enough to come into his own as an openly gay man.

Now he was 26 years old, and a wave of emotion invaded him as though a switch had been sparked in his mind when Chase Harrison unexpectedly crossed his path. Everything Elliott ever wanted growing up was there in front of him. It doesn’t take long for Elliott to enter into Chase’s life.

Then the ugly past rears its head. Only this time, the face is a shadowy online stalker and an anonymous hater.

Book Trailer

Excerpt 

I got back home a few hours later. “Hi, I’m back,” I said. As I headed towards my room, my father asked me to join him in the living room. I did.

“What?”

My father was sitting in his chair with my mother by his side. Something didn’t look right.

“Are you a homosexual?” my father asked calmly but sternly as he turned my laptop around. I hadn’t even noticed it there.

My worst nightmare was staring at me. Ah, shit. “How come my laptop is down here?” I asked.

“I asked you a question,” my father said.

My eyes started darting around as if looking for a place to hide, but I finally looked at my father and answered, “I don’t know.”

“This is a sin!” my father yelled, slamming the laptop shut. He approached me, pointing his finger at me. “This behaviour stops now, you hear? I will not have a sinner in my house! We didn’t bring you up like this, and no son of mine will partake in such disgusting, perverted activities! If you don’t change, I will send you to conversion therapy.”

I looked at my mother for some support or compassion, but she stood there and did nothing. My father stormed outside and slammed the door behind him.

“Mom,” I said, “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”

“You are a sinner,” she said, slapping me across the face. “You are a disgrace to this family. I would rather have a criminal for a son than a pervert. If you want to remain part of this family, you will cease this deviant behaviour immediately; otherwise, I want you out of this house.”

“Mom, please… Don’t say that. It’s not my fault. I tried to resist these feelings. Believe me, I tried.” My eyes were starting to tear up.

“You didn’t try hard enough,” she said.

“This is how God made me, Mom. I can’t change that.”

Her eyes became dark, and her pupils dilated, “Don’t you take the lord’s name in vain! Why do you insist on hurting us like this?”

“I don’t want to hurt you! Do you think this is to hurt you?”

“Liar!” Her face was so close to mine that I could smell her breath. Then she walked out.

I ran outside, slammed the door behind me, and sat on the front steps, trembling. I couldn’t stop sobbing. I called Chad and asked him if I could crash at his place.

“What happened?” Chad asked.

“My parents found out I was gay! They saw the video on my laptop. The things they said to me were so hurtful. I can’t live here anymore! All that matters to them is what the bible says! They’re ready to throw me out! I don’t mean anything to them!”

“Calm down,” Chad said. “I’ll come to pick you up. Pack your things.”

I went inside, grabbed all that would fit in my duffle bag, and stormed back outside to wait for Chad. I didn’t bother telling my parents where I was going; they wouldn’t care anyway. Chad drove up the driveway, I got in, and we left.

“What did you tell your parents?”

“I told them what you told me,” Chad said.

“Are they cool with me coming over?”

“Yes, they’re fine with it. How are you holding up?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t know what to think. I feel so ashamed.”

“Don’t. It’s not your fault.” As we pulled up the driveway to his house, Chad suggested that I see a school counsellor next week. “Maybe they can help.”

“Yeah, maybe. Thanks for everything,” I said.

As we walked in, Chad’s parents met us at the door. His mom said, “Hi, Elliott, welcome. I want you to feel comfortable here. Consider this your home now. Chad told us a bit of what happened, and we’re so sorry you had to live that.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Hardwicke.

“Come, I’ll show you your room,” Chad said as we walked up the stairs. “Rest up. If you need anything, I’m just across the hall. It will be alright, I promise.” Chad hugged me and went back downstairs.

I sat on the bed, hunched over with my head in my hands, rocking. “What am I suppose to do now? Am I such a bad person?”

About the Author  

Kristian Daniels writes coming of age, gay romance and gay love stories. His stories are about the life and tribulations of the LGBTQs community, their fight to be accepted and loved. It’s also about their struggles, rejection and their suffering. Writing a novel was always a thirst for him, and with Stolen Heart, it became a reality

Author Links

Blog/Website  |   Facebook   |  Twitter  

Giveaway 

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

one of two paperback copies of “Stolen Heart” (each dedicated to the winner)

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

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New Release – The Harder We Fall by Rebecca Raine #giveaway

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Book Title: The Harder We Fall

Author: Rebecca Raine

Cover Artist: Bec Rivers

Release Date:  March 29,  2021

Genre: MM Romance

Trope: Hurt/Comfort

Themes: Grief, Penance, Personal Growth

Heat Rating: 4 flames

 Length: 70,000 words

It is a standalone book.

Add on Goodreads

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon USAmazon UK 

For years, I’ve been bound by sleeplessness and sorrow. His voice threatens to set me free.

Blurb 

Insomnia. It’s part of the penance I pay for my greatest mistake. But when an ill-timed doze behind the wheel of my car nearly introduces me to a pole, I know something has to change.

Sleep with Me, a locally-made meditation app, promises a cure. I don’t expect it to work. Nor do I expect to become enthralled by the voice of its creator, Sam Stephenson. His ability to coax forth my nightly surrender is unnerving. I have to meet this man and learn the secret behind his techniques, so I can evict him from my head—and still get a good night’s sleep.

In person, the quiet and reclusive Sam is his own kind of complicated. He needs my business skills as much as I need his meditation skills and we forge an unlikely partnership. But the attraction between us soon flares into passion and, as we grow closer, I start to long for more than my guilty conscience will allow.

I have no right to love, not after the damage I’ve done. How can I give Sam all he deserves, when our chance at a happy ending was ruined before we even met?

Excerpt

“We’re running out of time.”

“So, we are,” I say with a false show of surprise. “It’s my fault, of course.” I pause, trying to figure out how to word the next part without making it obvious this was part of my plan all along. “I could always email you the questions. Then you can take as long as you like to answer them. After you send them back, I’ll write up a plan and we can meet again to discuss it.”

He looks aghast at the idea. “That’s a lot of work. I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”

“Actually, Sam, I’m the one asking for more of your time.” I brandish my most charming smile. It’s worked on men in the past, though I’m not usually trying this hard for the win. Desperation may have knocked the polish off.

Sam’s mouth drops open and somehow he manages to look panicked and thrilled at the same time. “You want to see me again?” he asks. “For the quid pro quo, I mean.”

“If you don’t mind.” I try to look calm, but my pulse is roaring like an express train. If he says no, I’m screwed. “I know this is all a bit odd, me coming to you the way I have. I suppose I hoped, once we met, you might be willing to give this whole process some more time.”

He shifts in his chair again, his gaze dropping. There’s no sign of his earlier trepidation, though, only a subtle wariness. “This was never going to be one hour, was it?”

“Not really, no,” I say, surprised at my honesty. “Not if we’re both going to get what we want from this.”

I can feel his attention all over me, even with his gaze glued to the table. “What exactly do you want from me, Tristan?”

It’s the voice. Right there in front of me. Coming from his mouth. Holy fuck.

Hearing that voice say my name, after all the ways I’ve used and abused his—in curses and moans and whispered pleas—is a goddamned fantasy come to life. Lust surges through my veins and I want to growl in frustration. This infatuation has to end. “I need to stop sleeping with you.”

His head snaps upright and we both gasp.

My right hand slaps over my mouth. “Fuck, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Looking away again, he releases a shaky breath. “It’s all right.” He runs absent hands along his arms, soothing a severe case of goosebumps. Sam is responding to my voice, my words, the same way I inevitably respond to his.

How would we respond to each other’s touch? Stifling a groan, I shift clenched fists into my lap. That’s not what this is about. I’m obsessed enough without learning the texture of his skin and the taste of his—

Sam starts to laugh, really laugh. “That stupid name,” he manages to say between breaths. “Sleep with Me. It wasn’t even my idea, but it certainly does get a reaction.” There’s another peel of laughter, as if he’s releasing all the tension from his body, and I find myself joining in. Every time we look at each other it gets worse and before I know it my stomach is sore from laughing. It feels good to laugh at myself. Weird, but good.

“Let me rephrase,” I say as we start to regain our composure. “What I mean is, now you’ve succeeded in getting me to sleep, I want to figure out how to do it on my own.”

“Should be easy enough. It’s probably something in the phrasing.”

Reality seeps back in, killing off the last of my amusement. “No, it’s something else.” Sam isn’t the first person to tell me to let go of my guilt. My mother used to say it constantly. It wasn’t your fault, Tristan. You shouldn’t blame yourself.She didn’t believe her words any more than I did, but she tried. “I don’t know what it is about you that’s different. I don’t think it’s necessarily something you can teach me, but whatever it is, I need to figure it out.”

“So, what’s the plan?” he asks with a baffled expression. “Are you going to hang around me until you get your answer through osmosis or something?”

“Maybe? I don’t know.” I drop my head into my hands. “Honestly, I’m making this up as I go along.”

“You and me both,” he says with a snort. “I don’t know if I can give you the answer you’re looking for, Tristan. But I’ll try.”

Slumping back in my chair, I release a sigh. “Thank you, Sam.”

He smiles that tiny smile and I try not to drool when his cheeks turn pink. “It’s my pleasure.”

About the Author 

Rebecca is a long-time lover of all things romance. Whether it’s a book, movie, or real life, she will always have more fun if there’s a love interest thrown into the mix. She lives in Queensland, Australia with her very own hero husband, two quirky kids and one big, black dog. Other than reading and writing books, her favourite things include loud music, enjoying a glass of wine on the patio, organising everything in existence, and spending too much time on the Internet.

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a FREE copy of All the Broken Pieces

Social Media Links

Blog/Website  |    Facebook   |   Facebook Author Page

Pinterest  |  Instagram  |    BookBub   |  Goodreads

Giveaway

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

one of five ebook copies of The Harder We Fall

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Blog Tour – Life Support (Crush #6) by Elouise East @EastElouise #giveaway #KindleUnlimited

BLOG TOUR

Book Title: Life Support (Crush #6)

Author: Elouise East

Publisher: Elouise East

Cover Artist: Maria Vickers

Release Date: March 11, 2021

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance

Tropes: Friends to lovers, Hurt/comfort

Themes: Sexual harassment in the workplace

Heat Rating: 4 flames   

Length: 75 000 words

It is a standalone story, although characters from other books in the series do appear throughout

Add on Goodreads

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Universal link  |   Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

Secrets give others more power. Now is the time to fight back.

Blurb

What can they do when their safety and self-worth are compromised?

Casey’s usually bubbly, cheeky demeanour is diminished by sexual harassment from a colleague. When Casey becomes scared for his safety, he seeks out a trainer to teach him how to escape. Withholding the secret is stifling, but he sees no other option if he wants to keep his job. Spilling those secrets to an almost stranger changes his life in a way he never thought possible.

Luke spends his time training people in evasive tactics. He loves his job, but feels inferior to his more successful siblings. How can he compete with lawyers, police officers and teachers? When Casey comes to him for training, Luke knows he’s hiding a secret and wants to get to the source. Finally, Casey confides in him, and Luke sets his sights on helping. 

Can they win the fight against people who bring them down? 

Excerpt 

Chapter 1 

Casey

“How are things going with Marcus?” Chloe asked as they packed up the equipment, ready to drive back to the hospital. “Still in the lovey-dovey stage?” She grinned, nudging his shoulder.

He shoved her back, good-naturedly. “Yes, as a matter of fact. Everything is going great.”

Casey had met Marcus four months ago and had persuaded him to bring a friend along for a double date with Casey’s best friend, Alex. So far, as he’d told Chloe, everything was working out well despite his shift patterns. Or maybe because of his shift patterns. Twelve-hour stints, two days, two nights, four days on, four days off. The hours were crap, but it was part of his job, so he couldn’t complain about it. He’d known the times before he agreed to the role.

They climbed into the ambulance, Chloe in the driver’s seat. Casey didn’t mind driving, but most of his colleagues preferred being in control of the ambulance, so he let them have it. He was happy to navigate instead. The engine’s loud rumble reverberated beneath his feet and ass while he clicked his seat belt into place.

“Who was the guy I saw you with earlier today?” Chloe asked, pulling out onto the road.

Casey frowned, then smiled. “Oh, outside the deli? That was Craig.” His heart felt heavy when he thought of the guy. “He’s been through a lot, and I’ve spoken with him a few times at the hospital.” He wasn’t about to divulge Craig’s personal details despite Chloe being bound by the same confidentiality rules. “He knows Alex, too. I was inviting him to meet some friends. I thought it might help him to socialise a bit more, rather than exist in his own little bubble.”

“That’s nice of you. Everyone needs friends. I’m not sure where I’d be without mine.”

Chloe had also been through a difficult time. Eight months ago, her husband had left her with two young children. It had taken a lot of organising for her to be able to come back to work. Casey glanced at her, seeing her blonde hair tied back in a ponytail; pale, blemish-free skin; dainty nose and rosebud lips. Her blue eyes sparkled all the time—except for the first few months after her husband took off—and she thoroughly enjoyed her job. If Casey had been heterosexual, he would’ve flirted with her. He did flirt with her, but they both knew that was the extent of it.

“How are the munchkins?” Casey asked with a grin, turning the subject to something he knew raised her spirits.

Chloe blew a hair out of her face. “Growing up too quickly. I know I have to give them time because of what’s happened, but Gemma is a nightmare.” Chloe shook her head and sighed. “She refuses to sleep in her own bed, which means I rarely get a good night’s sleep—not that I’m complaining, I’d prefer her to be happy and settled. It’s difficult. As for Jerome, he’s carrying on as if nothing happened.” A frown crossed her face.

“They’ll process it in different ways, you know that. Just be there for them and ask for help when you need it. Don’t do this alone, Chloe.” He reached over and squeezed her leg gently, hoping to convey how much she meant to him.

“I know, and I do ask. I hate having to rely on so many people.”

“I understand that. It’s nice to be independent, but sometimes, it’s just not possible.” He looked at his watch. “Almost dinner time. I’m starving.” As if his words reminded his body, his stomach growled.

Chloe snorted and flicked her gaze to him briefly. “You’re always starving. If I remember right, you were starving half an hour after the deli.”

“What can I say? I have a fast metabolism.”

They both laughed, the sound echoing around the small cab. Their Terrafix Responder chimed with a new incident, and Casey checked the details, relaying the information to Chloe, who sped up as Casey flicked on the sirens and lights. He brought up the route they’d need and directed Chloe to the house.

Two hours later, at the end of their shift, they finally managed to grab some food from the hospital restaurant. It was one of the downsides to the job, but if he didn’t eat while he had a spare minute, he might not get to eat

for hours. A paramedic’s schedule is based around people’s bumps and bruises, not around when it’s lunchtime or dinnertime.

Slumping at the table, his body and mind felt drained, and they sat in silence. Once he’d devoured his shepherd’s pie, he clapped Chloe on the shoulder and said goodnight, heading straight for the staff locker room. He’d checked his phone as he was eating and had seen a message from Marcus, asking if Casey could visit him that night. Normally, Casey would have agreed, but he was exhausted. He hadn’t replied yet because he’d wanted to see whether he felt better after eating. He didn’t.

The staff locker room was a large space with individual lockers for each member of staff. They weren’t particularly big lockers, but with the amount of staff at the hospital, they’d need a whole floor just for them if they made them any larger. The room also housed several showers, toilets and a couple of changing rooms. As it was a gender-neutral zone, all people used it.

Casey moved to his locker, quickly opening it and grabbing his bag, the need for sleep dragging at his movements. Usually, he’d have a shower, but tonight he wanted to get home.

“Have you had a good shift, Casey?” Dr Simon Acker’s voice made him flinch, and goosebumps rose on his arms as his muscles tensed.

Casey glanced out of the corner of his eye and hurried his movements, his heart rate increasing. “Yes, thanks.”

“Word on the grapevine is you’ve managed to keep hold of your boy toy.” Acker’s voice practically growled the last two words despite the smile on his face that didn’t seem to reach his eyes.

“Yep, still with him.” His voice was strained, each word pushing out with the effort and the hope of dispelling any other comments but to no avail. His whole body stiffened when Acker stepped closer.

“Looking good, Casey,” the doctor whispered, and he squeezed Casey’s shoulder, sliding his hand across his upper back too slowly for Casey’s liking. Acker left the locker room, and Casey leaned against the metal boxes, blowing out a breath, his muscles relaxing enough to send him to the floor if he allowed it.

“That guy gives me the creeps. If he hadn’t got a wife, I’d say he was gay.”

Casey spun around, piercing the other paramedic with his gaze, annoyance flowing out of him. “Really, Kinton? And there’s no way he

could be bisexual, is there?” Casey glared at him and slammed his locker shut, the sound loud in the narrow space.

“I didn’t mean… He could… Shit. I didn’t think, Casey,” Kinton stammered, his face flushing, and his eyes widening.

Casey deflated, sighing and shaking his head. “Nah, it’s okay. I’m feeling shitty. Sorry, man.” Casey gave a half-hearted smile and exited, keeping his eyes peeled for the doctor who gave him some seriously weird vibes. Acker had made similar comments to Casey since Acker had started working there about a year ago. To begin with, it had been nothing more than nice words about how well he did his job, which Casey had appreciated, but they had become steadily more personal as time went on. There was nothing he could do about it, so he carried on with his job and tried to avoid the man where possible.

About the Author 

I am a bestselling author of contemporary MM romance. I write a variety of themes: sweet and fluffy to high angst to taboo, but friendships are integral to each character’s experience. I write books that are emotionally realistic, even if liberties are taken with other aspects of my stories.

Reading and writing have always been a part of my life, although my debut book wasn’t published until July 2019. My experience has come from reading thousands of books over the years and being a perfectionist when it comes to trying to make things right. I live in the centre of the UK with my two children, who make life worth living, keep me (in)sane and make me laugh every single day. 

Author Links

Blog/Website  |   Facebook  |   Twitter  |   Instagram

Newsletter Sign-up  |  FaceBook Group 

Giveaway 

Enter the King Sumo Giveaway

for a chance to win

a $10 Amazon gift card

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

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Blog Tour – Three Historical Novels by Jeffrey Buchanan

BLOG TOUR

for

Three historical novels by Jeffrey Buchanan

💜Sucking Feijoas 💜The Smile of the Dispossessed 💜Pansies’ Revenge 

💜Sucking Feijoas 💜The Smile of the Dispossessed 💜Pansies’ Revenge 

BOOK 1

Book Title: Sucking Feijoas

Author: Jeffrey Buchanan    

Length: 283 pages

Release Date: June 24, 2020

Genre: Gay Historical novel,  LGBTQI Literary / Historical Fiction

Themes: gay liberation, coming out

It is a standalone story.

Goodreads

Buy links

Universal Link  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

Blurb

George thinks he’s a real man…until he is seduced by an American serviceman on duty in New Zealand during WW2.

Neddy, the son of Lebanese migrants, marries a peasant girl in an attempt to overcome his attraction to men.

Garth, an intellectual, working-class Catholic boy, escapes to Mexico but eventually returns to reveal a painful secret.

Set in New Zealand, Lebanon and Mexico between 1942 and 1986, SUCKING FEIJOAS follows the lives of gay men and how, with ingenuity, courage and love, they managed their lives – despite the odds. Now in its third edition, this deeply engaging story about sexuality, class, race and the culture wars that surrounded them, is as relevant as ever. SUCKING FEIJOAS is riveting storytelling, gay history, empowering.

Excerpt

George was ecstatic that the party was going to be held in what he now referred to as his apartment. ‘Flat’ was definitely out as a term of reference to his abode now that he had such wonderful and sophisticated friends as Garth Griffin and Neddy Berdawni. He looked around his living room, a haven of peace and loveliness, which would soon be the scene of the wild party he’d planned in honour of the passing of the Homosexual Law Reform Bill. 

All’erta! All’erta!Abb’etta zingara! he sang in a falsetto accompaniment to the opera blasting from his stereo. ‘All’erta.’ He lifted the needle from the record and put it back a few grooves so that he could again hear the soprano rejoicing in his favourite refrain from Il Trovatore‘All’erta! All’ertd! Abb’etta zingara!’

Food was displayed on the Formica table in his kitchen. It looked glorious, the madeira cake and the stuffed mushrooms. But best of all was that fabulous Arabic concoction with the name he had the same difficulty in pronouncing as the frantic refrains from the opera.

All’erta!’ he sang as he sniffed Neddy’s hummus. ‘Amazing,’ he said, ‘it feels so good to be able to sing opera without thinking it might get me arrested. Us poor, poor queens, for so many centuries denied our pleasures!’

On the wall in front of him was a picture of Mount Taranaki, which he stared at as he reached into a cupboard for the bottle of sherry. The huge, handsome flanks of that monstrous mountain. So many decades of admiring it. So many tortures endured in its presence, each like the ice axes that climbers stuck in the flanks of that wily old mountain.

‘And there you still are.’ He saluted the mountain. ‘And me too,’ he said as he downed a mouthful of the deliciously sickly sherry. ‘Still alert, still surviving.’

He bent over the table and stuck his finger in the delicious dip he’d come to adore since Neddy had first made it for him. ‘Hmmmm, hmmiss, homos, oh something or other,’ he said in a pickled hiss. He licked his finger with the creamy substance smeared over it and closed his eyes in satisfaction.

BOOK 2

Book Title: The Smile of the Dispossessed

Author: Jeffrey Buchanan

Length: 313 pages

Release Date: March 19, 2020

Genre/s: Gay historical romance

Themes: LGBTQ refugees

It is a standalone story.

Goodreads

Buy Links

Universal link  |  Website  |  Book Depository

Blurb 

“The Smile of the Dispossessed” is a love story and a political thriller set in Iraq, Jordan, Lebanon, Malaysia and Indonesia. The novel tells the story of Fadhi and Adam who flee Baghad in the final days of the Saddam Hussien regime when they are ‘outed’ as being gay and accused of being enemies of the state. Despite having been lovers for many years, under the pressures of being refugees, they separate and go their own ways, both men hoping to find freedom in a country that will accept them for who they are. “The Smile of the Dispossessed” demonstrates the enduring requirement to maintain faith in humanity and the power of love.

Excerpt 

The music had changed again from disco to house and that beat was what Adam wanted, the newness of it, the complete modernity, the throb of what was the latest from Ibiza and Paris.

“You will not defeat me,” he said. He took the last swig from his bottle and went by himself to the dance floor. In his tight white tee shirt and blue jeans and white sneakers with his hair cut short and three days of beard, he knew he was the centre of attraction as he moved his body to the steady beat.

“I’m the handsome Arab,” he thought. “I’m the male they all want.” In the soap opera the music would now be reaching a crescendo as the main character found himself powerful and showed the world that when you are strong you get what you want and not what you de-serve. For a while in Baghdad there had been a fabulous Brazilian soap played on national television but the dancing and the partying had been too much for the authorities and it was eventually banned. Adam felt as if he had reached Sao Paulo now and that he was in it at last, that thing he wanted so much, that space he deserved. It was the vacuum left by the Brazilians, it was the magazine where the Paris models looked glamorous and led a life of luxury and fun. And at that moment on the dance floor he knew what his life was: he was a handsome and slightly crazy Palestinian and people desired him for that. Dancing there he saw his persona and was satisfied. The soaps were life and life was the soaps. He was in the midst of this felicitous conundrum when the blond squeezed amongst the dancers and started moving rhythmically next to him.

The blond had powder blue eyes, the colour of tropical oceans. His smile was as easy as his movements on the dance floor. They didn’t speak. There was no need to as they danced through two sets of the music. It was just like the soaps had ordered. A new sequel had begun and the audience was being led into it willingly and with abandon. The first thing the blond said to Adam sounded as if it had been scripted in a studio, the writers working in participation for the exact line of introduction: “I thought about you all day and all night.”

BOOK 3

Book Title: Pansies’ Revenge

Author: Jeffrey Buchanan

 Length:  305 pages

Release Date: April 22, 2020

Genre/s: LGBTQI Historical / Literary fiction

Literary novel about the LGBTQI community set in Wellington, New Zealand in 1918 during the Spanish Flu.

It is a standalone story.

Goodreads

Buy Links

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK   |  Book Depository

Blurb 

A vibrant, entertaining, often darkly Gothic story is filled with passion, love, pathos, farce and humour. Pansies’ Revenge lays bare the political, social and cultural fabric of New Zealand society at a pivotal time in the nation’s history. Set in 1918 the novel explores what it was like to resist political oppression and at the same time, face a global pandemic. 

It is late 1918 and in Wellington, New Zealand, four years of world war and the ravages of the Spanish flu are taking their toll on the inhabitants.

All are not for King and Country. The members of the Te Aro book club: queer, feminist, bohemian, disgruntled, are accused of sedition for reading Crime and Punishment and drawing from it the roots of the problems facing the world. The more intently they read, the more the crazed characters of the book appear to manifest themselves in Wellington.

Intrigues deepen: Cecil and Sybil Meatyard, who work the crowds to a frenzy of patriotism in the streets of Wellington for the New Zealand Women’s Anti-German League, disappear. Their diatribes about war shirkers, spies and Pansies have upset a lot of people. The sinister Crawford Denton, detective and sensualist, follows the case. A 1918 MeToo Movement begins as the influenza pandemic takes hold.

This vibrant, entertaining, often darkly Gothic story is filled with passion, love, pathos, farce and humour. Pansies’ Revenge lays bare the political, social and cultural fabric of New Zealand society at a pivotal time in the nation’s history.

Excerpt

Chapter One

Alexander Powderham, fortyish, handsome, bohemian, limped his way up Cuba Street. His left leg, having been crippled from infantile paralysis, was supported by a steel brace. He was dependent also on canes, of which he had an impressive collection, and on this occasion, he was using one intricately carved by Aroha Raharuhi, his longtime lover.

The air was unseasonably warm for mid-September Wellington, which heightened the smell rising from the mounds of horse ordure left from the morning’s military parade. Outside the Duchess Tea Rooms, Alexander paused and rested on his good leg while he adjusted his recently tailored jacket, smoothing down the Irish linen with his hands, delighting in its texture and colour of golden flax. Then he adjusted his silk tie, cream coloured with charcoal flecks, loosening the knot a little at the undone top button to ensure that rakish look, which was one of casual elegance. The white, Egyptian cotton shirt had also been crafted especially for him by the clothiers Munster & Munster who, through four years of war, had survived patriotic vandalism by hanging a large sign across their shop windows, WE ARE NOT HUNS: WE SUPPORT KING AND COUNTRY. Alexander’s chocolate brown, wide-brimmed hat with a duck’s feather poking from the green woven band was also avant-garde, of a high-quality felt and based on a design he had seen in a fashion weekly from London.

About the Author 

Jeffrey Buchanan was born in Wellington, New Zealand, to a Lebanese – New Zealand family. For thirty years, including a decade with the United Nations, he worked in multiple countries in education, the promotion of human rights, gender equality and the empowerment of women. He was based for several years in the Middle East. For his Doctorate, he researched the structural, cultural and ideological components of Islamic education. Now he follows the warm weather with his husband Stuart, reads and writes fiction, and daydreams.

Read more on the author’s website 

Visit his Facebook page 

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New Release – Gingerbread Mistletoe by Amy Aislin #KindleUnlimited #giveaway

BLOG TOUR

Book Title: Gingerbread Mistletoe

Author: Amy Aislin

Publisher: Self-published

Cover Artist: Natasha Snow

Series: Lighthouse Bay #2

Genre/s: Contemporary m/m holiday romance

Trope/s: Enemies to lovers, small town, forced proximity

Heat Rating: 2 flames 

Length: 62,000 words 

It’s book two in the Lighthouse Bay series, but can be read as a standalone. 

Goodreads

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Universal Amazon Link  |  Amazon US  |   Amazon UK 

Blurb 

The last thing Jeff wants is to spend time with the man who totaled his car—the one he spent years restoring with his late father. But if he wants to resurrect his childhood town’s annual outdoor hockey tournament, he’s got no choice.

The last thing Mika wants is to work with the guy who took off right after the accident, without ensuring he was okay. And working together on organizing Jeff’s proposed tournament sounds like a complete nightmare. He’s got enough on his plate after surviving cancer.

Sparks fly as they’re forced to work together, but is that enough for them to set their differences aside and pull off the tournament in only two weeks? Or will they prove to be immune to the magic of Christmas?

Excerpt

Standing, he held a hand out to the man who was so much his type it was almost laughable. Three or four inches taller than Mika’s own five-ten height, dark brown hair that shone red under the warehouse’s lights, like the deepest shade of mahogany, with charcoal-gray at the temples and above his ears, and lines that fanned out from narrow eyes a dark shade of blue. A high forehead in a heart-shaped face and the physique of a footballer completed the package.

All of that wouldn’t have been a big deal on its own, but the way he held himself with the cool confidence of someone who knew his place in the world?

Yowza. Talk about Mika’s type wrapped in a black wool coat and a stubbled jaw more gray than brown. He’d have been giving Jeff his number if the guy wasn’t scowling at him.

Wait, that scowl . . .

Jeff stared at his outstretched hand. “No.”

“Uh.” Rearing back, Mika dropped his arm back to his side. “Excuse me?”

Zach crept up behind him, gaze swinging from Mika to Jeff. “What’s wrong?”

Jeff waved a hand at Mika. “This is the guy you want me to work with?” He put special emphasis on this, as though Mika were a criminal who’d steal his wallet when he wasn’t looking. Straightening his spine, Mika planted his hands on his hips.

Zach blinked once. “Yes?”

Holland Stone—Zach’s boyfriend and Mika’s ex—approached from where he’d been working on his float for the parade, clad in a dusty T-shirt and even dustier jeans. He squinted at Jeff before turning to Zach and Mika. “You two okay?” He held a hammer in one hand like he meant to wield it. Not that he ever would, but the image would’ve made Mika chuckle had he not been so confused.

And frankly? Kind of hurt. What the hell had he ever done to this guy?

“I can’t work with him.” There was no give in Jeff’s tone.

“Why not?” Zach stepped in close to Mika, butting in against his left side. “Mika’s the best.”

Aw. The ire in Mika’s chest faded a little at Zach’s words. It was nice of him to say, especially since Mika had made the worst of first impressions on him last Christmas.

The amount of disgust in Jeff’s scoff would’ve been impressive had it not been directed at Mika. “I’m not working with the guy who totaled my dad’s car.”

Mika’s head jerked back. “What?”

Zach and Holland swung their gazes his way.

“I didn’t!” Taking a step back, he raised both hands. “I’ve never totaled anybody’s car in my life.”

“Oh no?” Jeff argued, raising both eyebrows, and god, the sarcasm. “Not even a turquoise 1956 Chevy Nomad near the Bluffs in Pacific Palisades? About this time last year? Ring any bells?”

That was where Mika knew this guy from! Jesus, he was still holding a grudge? “Okay, first of all, I apologized, like, seven times. Second, I gave you my number. It’s not my problem that you didn’t call. Like I said—I would’ve paid to get it fixed. And third.” Leaning over the desk, he narrowed his eyes on a squinty-eyed Jeff Bellmoor. “Totaled?”

Jeff winced. “Fine. That’s maybe the wrong word.” Uttered so begrudgingly, it was a miracle he managed to say the words at all. “But like I said—it’s not about the damage.”

A huff of exasperation escaped Mika and he threw his hands up. “I don’t know what that means.” He hadn’t known then either.

“Never mind.” Rubbing his forehead, Jeff turned away. “You wouldn’t understand.”

About the Author  

Amy’s lived with her head in the clouds since she first picked up a book as a child, and being fluent in two languages means she’s read a lot of books! She first picked up a pen on a rainy day in fourth grade when her class had to stay inside for recess. Tales of treasure hunts with her classmates eventually morphed into love stories between men, and she’s been writing ever since. She writes evenings and weekends—or whenever she isn’t at her full-time day job saving the planet at Canada’s largest environmental non-profit.

An unapologetic introvert, Amy reads too much and socializes too little, with no regrets. She loves connecting with readers. Join her Facebook Group, Amy Aislin’s Readers, to stay up-to-date on upcoming releases and for access to early teasers, find her on Instagram and Twitter, or sign up for her infrequent newsletter.

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a signed paperback of Gingerbread Mistletoe

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Blog Tour – The Offering by Rosary Deville  #KindleUnlimited #giveaway

BLOG TOUR

Book Title: The Offering 

Author: Rosary Deville

Publisher: Self Published

Cover Artist: Zoe Perdita

Release Date: November 13, 2020

Genre/s: M/M dark erotica, taboo, mpreg, paranormal/urban romance,

shifter fantasy, werewolves

Trope/s: alphas and betas, strong/unruly protagonist

Themes: dubious/non consent. forced marriage, societal inequality,

abuse, violence, dom/sub, BDSM 

Heat Rating:  5 flames    

Length:  approx. 65 000 words/ 250 pages

It is Book 1 out of 2. Book 2 will be released later in 2021.

Buy Links

Smashwords

Currently unavailable on Amazon

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

A beta in an oppressive werewolf society must participate in a mating ceremony where alphas hunt their future mates.

Blurb 

As a beta in Wereduin society, Fern has no choice but to be mated when he comes of age. The ideal beta wereduin was subservient to their alpha, bears young, and knows their place in society.

Fern isn’t like that.

Rather than become an extension of his alpha, Fern wants to play in his band, hang out with his friends, and stay himself.

Now of age, Fern is to be placed in the Offering—an annual ceremony where alphas hunt and claim their beta mates. And whose attention does Fern attract? None other than Donovan Blackfang, a Highborne alpha who will stop at nothing but to claim Fern’s heart, body, and soul.

Excerpt

Someone grabbed the nape of my neck. Shit, no! Why hadn’t I paid more attention to my surroundings?

This alpha male was stout and gray. His jagged claws dug into my shoulder, and it ripped a cry from my throat. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw another beta. This alpha must have been cornering her before I showed up. She didn’t look back at me as she made her escape. The alpha who had me could have come from my worst nightmares. He had a large scar across his eye. His thick, weather-worn hide told me he’d been at this game for a while. He could be my papa’s age, not that age mattered for werewolves, but his face was truly menacing. The glee I found in his glowing red eyes terrified me. Veins riddled his muscular physique. One of his ears had been chewed off. He gripped my shoulder, tearing my skin. I clawed at his hands, face, biting wherever I could as he forced me onto the ground.

I felt sure I was a goner when he was knocked off of me. Growling surrounded us. It was the large, black alpha that had taken on the slaver. He snarled at the alpha who had been about to rape me. Slowly, I crawled away on my hands and knees. That was when he turned his fangs on me, growling. He didn’t want me to leave, as if he already felt some ownership of me. Something in his eyes halted me and trapped my breath in my throat. I shook my head rapidly.

No!

There was no way I would be claimed tonight. And certainly not by a male. I took off running, leaving them to their fight.

It was over shockingly quick. The dark alpha won. My alpha. It confused me when I momentarily thought of him as mine. My body wanted to submit. Arousal grew heavy in my groin, heating up my body.

Hell, no!

Instincts be damned, I was not born so I could have some male alpha’s pups.

The black alpha picked up speed.

Just then, two alpha males sprang from either side of the woods. I ducked low, and they collided into each other. I dodged around them. The left one snatched me back before the alpha on the right knocked him to the ground.

Both alphas were beautiful—if I allowed myself to think something like that about the same sex. One was a scarlet red, while the other a golden bronze. Hopefully, the two would also stop the black alpha who still followed me, and I could make a getaway.

Both tried, not wanting to let a challenger slip by.

I dragged out a relieved sigh. Part of me was disappointed, and that part scared me. The rest of me was thankful. I didn’t want any of them to win—especially the strong dark alpha.

It was apparent by their beauty that all three alphas fighting over me were from the upper-class. But my eye was drawn to the dark one—jet black with those piercing neon-blue eyes and riddled, muscular physique. Of the three, he was the most handsome. Shaking my head and trying to remove those unwanted thoughts about the beautiful alphas fighting for me, I left them to battle.

 When I heard them following me, I stole a glance over my shoulder. My heart stopped. Both the scarlet and golden-bronze alphas chased behind me. The dark werewolf must have been beaten. My heart sank. I wanted to slap myself. Why did I feel so let down?

I ran blindly through the forest and over the rocks until I backed myself against a cliff. Both werewolves approached me, snarling. I retreated as far as I could go before I drew my fangs. There was no way I was going down without a fight.

Perhaps they formed an alliance because they no longer fought each other. Instead, they homed in on me.  Was I about to be claimed by two males?

How would they take me? I only had one opening. Would they both try to fit? My body trembled, but my beta brain started to submit. It craved having the alphas’ cocks inside me.

Backing away, I shook my head and crouched low. They sprang at me, but before they could touch me, a black shadow leaped from the cliff over my head. He landed in front of me.

There he is again!

The black alpha.

Gratitude overwhelmed me, and I could do nothing but stare at him. I wanted this alpha. I ached inside. Precum dripped from my hard cock. I wanted him inside of me.

Violently, I shook my head. No. I did not want to be claimed by anyone tonight. I found a small opening created by their fighting and snuck out. The black alpha growled at me, and I couldn’t stop my shiver. He wanted me to wait for him. He wanted me to let him claim me. Already, it felt like he had his claws around my heart.

About the Author  

Rosary is an author of erotica ranging from sweet and fluffy, to dark and taboo. She aims to foster a sex-positive experience for readers to indulge their fantasies in a fun and safe space. Sometimes she uses her writing to journey into the often hidden and taboo depths of human sexuality, and hopes readers will take away from her stories, not an acceptance of violence and sexual abuse, but rather a way to embrace their inner desires often shamed by society.

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one of three $10 Amazon Gift Cards

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