A Quick Buck by K.L. Hiers #kindleunlimited #giveaway

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: A Quick Buck

Author: K.L. Hiers

Publisher: Stormy Night Publications

Release Date: 11/19/2021

Genre/s: Contemporary MM Mafia Romance 

Trope/s: Daddy Kink, May/December, Silver Fox, Rich Boy Needs Love 

Themes: Love and Power, Lust Before Love, Revenge

Heat Rating: 5 flames       

Length:  108 000 words/503 pages

This is a standalone story. It is a spin-off from the Cold Hard Cash series, but the other books do not need to be read in order to enjoy this one.

It does not end on a cliffhanger.

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Blurb 

Alistair Star didn’t come to Noah Allan’s house looking for a boy in need of a hard spanking from a man who knows how to give one. Noah was just meant to be kept as collateral until his uncle could be tracked down. But when the twenty-two-year-old trust fund brat gets mouthy, Alistair decides it’s long past time someone took off his belt and put him very firmly in his place.

Noah may be used to buying whatever he wants and doing as he pleases, but he wouldn’t call himself spoiled. Unfortunately for him, the dangerous, infuriatingly handsome mob boss holding him prisoner disagrees, and Alistair doesn’t just plan to teach Noah a shameful lesson that will leave him sore, sorry, and desperately aroused. He’s going to give Noah exactly what he needs…

A daddy.

Publisher’s Note: A Quick Buck includes spankings and rough, intense sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

Excerpt

“You are an exceptionally rude young man.” Alistair rose from the piano.

“Says the fuckin’ geezer who’s kidnapping me in my own house!” Noah growled. “Wow. Fuckin’ dementia settin’ in, Gramps? Do you understand how crazy you sound?”

“I do believe it’s time for that lesson in manners.” Alistair slid his belt from his pants, folding it in half and lightly patting it against his palm.

Noah froze, staring stupidly at the belt. He was so stunned by the clear implication that he laughed.

“I’m going to take you and put you over my knee,” Alistair said sternly. “I’m going to spank you with this belt until I hear a very sincere apology followed by absolute and total silence. While we’re staying here, I am going to expect you to be a model guest. Obedient, quiet, and dare I even say grateful. Do you understand, dear Noah?”

“You?” Noah laughed again. “You’re going to spank me?”

“Unless you’d like to apologize right now?”

“Ha!” Noah stood up straight and tall, towering over Alistair as he taunted, “I’d love to see you fuckin’ try it, old man.”

“Very well.”

In the space of a blink, Alistair grabbed Noah’s arm and twisted it into his back, dragging him over his knee as he sat down on the bench. It happened so quickly that Noah didn’t have enough time to register the pain until the belt cracked over his ass for the first time.

“Oh, fuck!” Noah tried to kick away, but the pressure on his arm in Alistair’s iron grip made a compelling argument to stay as he was. His ass felt like it had been branded where the belt had struck, and he hissed angrily. Even through his jeans, it hurt like hell. “Oh, wow, yeah, fuck you.”

“That didn’t sound like an apology, dear Noah,” Alistair chided.

“How about you take that ‘dear Noah’ and shove it up your—oh, fuck!” Noah cried out as the belt hit him again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Mmm, that sort of language will simply not do.” The buckle clinked as Alistair set the belt aside, and he reached around Noah’s hips to grab at the front of his jeans. “A strong-willed boy such as yourself usually requires additional motivation.”

“Hey! Stop!” Noah squirmed as Alistair undid the button and opened up the fly of his jeans in one swift jerk. A rage like he’d never known filled him when Alistair grabbed the seat of his jeans and pulled them down with his underwear, just enough to expose his ass to the entire room. “Oh, fuck you!”

“Now.” Alistair had the belt again, and he lightly dragged it over Noah’s bare cheeks. “Let’s try this again, shall we?”

Noah tried bucking away, but he couldn’t get out of Alistair’s iron hold. He was furious from being stripped and humiliated like this, and he refused to comply. “Go fuckin’ die in a fire. A really big fuckin’ fire.”

“You still have plenty of time to apologize.”

“Yeah? But you sure don’t. Bein’ all old and shit. Might have a heart attack and drop dead right—agh, shit! Shit!” The pain from the belt against his bare skin was new, burning white hot, and Noah couldn’t explain the overwhelming rush coming over him.

Definitely didn’t have an explanation for his hard dick.

There was no way to hide it from Alistair, considering it was digging into his thigh, and Noah ducked his head, embarrassed and furious he couldn’t escape. For some reason, being held down was only making him harder, and the vicious cycle of shame and anger kept right on fueling his persistent erection.

“Why, Noah.” Alistair chuckled low. His voice dropped to a sultry tone, whispering as if they were lovers as he said, “I’m not sure I should continue your punishment under these circumstances. Would you like to apologize yet?”

“Eat… a dick,” Noah panted, refusing to acknowledge how all the little hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood up from the way Alistair spoke.

“Mm, I take it that’s a ‘no’?”

“You’re… a fuckin… genius…”

“Well.” Alistair clicked his tongue, the leather creaking as he raised the belt back up. “I can already see you’re going to be quite a handful.”

“You’ve got no fuckin’ idea, you stupid—ow, fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck!”

This was going to be a very, very long day.

And he still hadn’t gotten that shower.

Fuck.

About the Author 

K.L. “Kat” Hiers is an embalmer, restorative artist, and queer writer. Licensed in both funeral directing and funeral service, they worked in the death industry for nearly a decade. Their first love was always telling stories, and they have been writing for over twenty years, penning their very first book at just eight years old. Publishers generally do not accept manuscripts in Hello Kitty notebooks, however, but they never gave up.

Following the success of their first novel, Cold Hard Cash, they now enjoy writing professionally, focusing on spinning tales of sultry passion, exotic worlds, and emotional journeys. They love attending horror movie conventions and indulging in cosplay of their favorite characters. They live in Zebulon, NC, with their husband and their children, some of whom have paws and a few that only pretend to because they think it’s cute.

Author Links

Blog/Website  |   Facebook  |  Instagram  

Twitter  |  Newsletter Sign-up  |  Patreon 

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Wicked Lovely (The Black Blade Chronicles, Book 1) by J.K. Hogan #kindleunlimited #giveaway

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: Wicked Lovely (The Black Blade Chronicles, Book 1)

Author: J.K. Hogan

Publisher:  Euphoria Press

Cover Artist: J.K. Hogan @ www.wickedpixeldesigns.com

Release Date: October 12, 2021

Genre: M/M Fantasy Romance

Tropes: Enemies to lovers

Themes: Adventure/quest (kind of Game of Thrones-esque but queer)

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 90 000 words

It is the first book in the series and not a standalone story. There will be an HEA over a three-book arc. The first book isn’t quite a cliffhanger, more of a to be continued ending.

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A new series that combines the adventure and magic of epic fantasy with the enchantment of romance

Blurb

Darkness grows in the realm of Taleth. To the west, a power-hungry despot schemes to conquer kingdoms and territories alike by chasing an ancient elven prophecy that could give him the power to rule all. In the east, after a prince’s murder goes years unanswered, a princess learns there was much more to her brother’s death—and to her life—than she realized.

The House of Kjenelach is shaken to its foundation when Princess Sigrid is stolen away. Her faithful guardian, Sir Senne Clayward, reluctantly accepts help from his nemesis, a notorious halfling mercenary of questionable morals—but indispensable tracking skills—called Kasimir vas Hjardar.

Kasimir makes his living hunting monsters, both creatures and men. While he exists outside the law, he lives by his own unassailable code of honor. At the top of that list: never harm a child. When he turns down a contract to kidnap Sigrid and later finds out she was taken by someone else, he offers his help to the prickly knight tasked with protecting her.

Together, they embark upon a journey across the continent to save Sigrid and foil King Prosper’s plans to conquer Taleth. The way is fraught with dangers and pitfalls, from supernatural beasts to Senne’s deathly fear of magic, but they must not fail, for Sigrid may very well be the savior of the realm: the long prophesied Aisnellach Fuil. Somehow, the two men must set their differences aside and work together to rescue Sigrid, and possibly find love along the way.

Excerpt

Senne awoke to a skull-shattering headache. What the devil had happened to him? Surely he was dead. But shouldn’t one’s pain end after death? No, not dead, then. He was lying on something. He felt it, lumpy and scratchy beneath him. He attempted to blink his eyes open past the thick, drugging pain in his skull. He glimpsed a dark, empty room, a fire blazing merrily in front of him.

Senne must have lost consciousness, for it seemed like he blinked only once and a man appeared, sitting in a chair next to the fire and stropping the blade of…a small ax.

The next time Senne blinked, the man was still by the fire, but he wore nothing but loose, black trews. He was no longer stropping, but braiding his long sable-colored hair. For each braid, he would start at the hairline at his forehead and plait backward halfway down his skull, leaving the lower part of his hair loose.

Senne couldn’t help but notice the way the muscles in his broad back and thick arms bunched and rolled as he worked. But as some of the fog in Senne’s head began to clear, he realized what he was seeing: five braids in the elven style. An elf? Except this man was much too large, not willowy and slender like elves tended to be. His ears were slightly peaked rather than long and pointed. A halfling then. Wait, surely he couldn’t be that halfling, could he?

“I know you’re awake,” the halfling said as he finished his last braid. “Are you planning my death while you lie there pretending to be unconscious? You’ve already failed once, and you’re in no condition to be more successful this time.”

“I…” Gods, his head hurt. Senne could barely hang on to a single thought. His gut was telling him this man was an enemy but when he’d been at his most vulnerable, the halfling hadn’t hurt him. In fact, he was possibly…helping him?

“Who are you?”

“I am called Kasimir vas Hjardar, the Black Blade of Andrahar. Though your young maid insists upon calling me Kas.”

“Sigrid!” Senne gasped, bolting upright, then whimpering as the room spun and his head pounded. He had to pinch his lips together to keep from vomiting.

Kasimir swore and stood. “Lie down, you bloody idiot.” His words were harsh but his hands were gentle as he eased Senne back down on the lumpy cot.

“Sigrid,” Senne said again, slightly calmer but no less anxious. “I was with her. We were riding back to the Keep…”

“After you shot me.”

Senne cleared his throat and his gaze involuntarily sought out Kasimir’s right leg. He was surprised to see some sort of splinting device strapped to it. “Yes, well… I apologize for that. I was beside myself with worry when she ran away, and I…misread the situation.”

“Egregiously,” the halfling added in a bland tone.

“Yes, well…” Senne sighed. Fair enough. “After she and I talked about, ah, other things, she explained what happened. You were long gone by then, I’m afraid. Again, my sincerest apologies.”

Kasimir said nothing. He simply pulled his chair from the hearth to Senne’s bedside and sat. And waited, arched eyebrows raised.

“I don’t remember anything after that. What happened? H-how did I get here? Where’s Sigrid? D-did you do something to her?”

Kasimir sneered, his half-elven nature evident in his pointy eye teeth. “‘What happened’ is someone nearly smashed in your melon, didn’t they? I don’t bloody know who it was, and I certainly didn’t do anything to the maid.”

Senne glared at him, disbelieving. “Then why have our paths crossed again, eh? Black Blade indeed.”

“Oh, I was instrumental in our paths crossing again. After my mate patched the old leg up, I tracked you. I was going to kill you for that arrow.”

Senne growled, which only made the halfling grin. Senne couldn’t blame him. A growl from a man as weak as kitten wasn’t exactly threatening.

“I was on my way when your horse came stampeding through the woods. ‘Course I didn’t know it was your horse at the time. I caught him, and he wanted to go north so that’s what we did—”

“The horse wanted to go north?” The halfling lowered his eyes, and Senne could’ve sworn he blushed. “Elven witchery,” Senne spat.

“Oi, if that’s what it is, then elven witchery saved your useless hide.”

Senne couldn’t think of anything to say to that.

“When I found you, you were unconscious and leaking blood from your noggin like a sieve. There was no sign of the girl.”

“You set out to kill me, so why am I here…and where is here?”

“You might not believe I have any honor, but I’m not a murderer. I wasn’t going to kill someone who was defenseless, and I wasn’t about to leave a man to slowly bleed to death or get picked apart by forest predators. There are few I’d wish that kind of death on. So I slung you over your Dagfinn and led him to my mate’s cabin.”

The halfling watched Senne with his unsettling blue eyes, so blue as to be almost colorless, slightly tipped up and ringed in inky black lashes. He was waiting for something, but Senne had no idea what.

Senne licked his dry, cracked lips. “Why? Why bring me to this hovel instead of dumping me in the village and letting someone else take the burden?”

A muscle twitched in Kasimir’s jaw. “First of all, this hovel belongs to my oldest friend, and it’s thanks to him that you’re lying comfortably in a bed right now instead of in a shallow grave, so have some respect.” He paused to calm his ire before speaking again. “As to your question, I don’t much like the village. Each time I go somehow results in almost losing my life. Besides, I’m still healing from my own injury…” He glared at Senne. “And the cottage was closer. I have a small amount of healing magic in my ‘elven witchery’ quiver, and it’s kept you alive so far. I want you to heal so that when I kill you, it will have been a fair fight.”

Senne snorted. He might quite enjoy sparring with the halfling when they were both at full strength. The amusing thought gave way to worry, however, then panic over Sigrid. Where was she? Was she even alive? He tried to sit up again, this time fighting through the dizziness and nausea that swamped him.

“Oi!” Kasimir rubbed a hand over his face in a mark of clear exasperation. “I’m still not entirely sure you’re not going to die of that cracked skull of yours. I’m not that good a healer, only a halfling after all,” he said with derision.

Senne winced. “Yes, I know, but I have to take that chance. I have to find Sigrid. I can’t even go to the Guard for help, because if what you said is true, we still have traitors in our midst. No one can be trusted. I’ve got to go after her.

Kasimir looked toward the precarious ceiling of the shack and swore. “Can’t believe I’m gonna say this…but if you’ll just stay here one more day or so, get some food in you and let the magic do its work… I’ll help you bloody track her.”

“Why?” Senne asked suspiciously. “Why would you do that for me, someone you’d intended to kill?”

Kasimir looked horrified. “You? I’ll not be doin’ it for you. I’m fond of the girl, all right? She saved me from being garroted when she felled the third highwayman. And besides, I think I might…have an idea who took her.”

Senne sucked in a sharp breath through his nose and stared at the halfling for long moments. “What?

About the Author 

J.K. Hogan has been telling stories for as long as she can remember, beginning with writing cast lists and storylines for her toys growing up. When she finally decided to put pen to paper, she found her true passion. She is greatly inspired by all kinds of music and often creates a “soundtrack” for her stories as she writes them.

J.K. resides in North Carolina with her husband, two sons, and their pets. If she isn’t writing, J.K. can be found designing book covers at Wicked Pixel Designs, creating fiber art and supplies at Earthbound Fiber Arts watching Hurricanes Hockey and, of course, reading!

Social Media Links

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Dancing Before the Crash by C.C. Everill #kindleunlimited #giveaway

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: Dancing Before the Crash

Author:  C.C. Everill

Publisher: Self-published in conjunction with Ronni Sanlo Literary (www.ronnisanlo.com)

Cover Artist:  Barbara Gottlieb (gottgraphix.com)

Release Date: April 25, 2021

Genre: Memoir

Trope: Friends and lovers

Themes: Gay life 1977-1989

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length:  72 388 words/386 pages

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

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Imagine finding someone’s diary – would you read it?

Blurb

In 1977, a 22-year-old man moved to NYC to pursue his dream.  His journal tells of his romances, friendships, clubbing while attempting to “make it” in the big city.  The author’s diary takes us from the early days of the 1970’s disco era through the devastating AIDS epidemic. If you lived through this era or are interested in LGBTQ+ history, this book offers insight from a survivor.

Excerpt 

Sunday, April 26, 1981

It is now 3:30 a.m. and I’m not able sleep. I can’t stop thinking about last Sunday, which was Easter, so I thought I would get up and write about it.

Jesse was changing into his bellmen’s uniform when I entered the locker room on Saturday before work. He was in a chatty mood and said the rash had disappeared.

“I have an idea. How about if you come home with me tonight and then tomorrow, we can spend Easter together?”

What a surprise! I accepted.

Easter was delightful. We walked the dogs to the Village and had brunch on The Patio. After eating, we walked back to Jesse’s apartment and got high while drinking beer on the roof. It was a warm sunny day and since we were both slightly sweating, we took showers before leaving for work.

That was a week ago. Our first night of sleeping together since the night we partied at The Saint. Tonight, while we were in line at the cafeteria, Gerald the server commented that he constantly sees us together.

“That’s because we’re both the same age and from Colorado and worked together at another job.” Jesse explained.

I wanted to add that we are compatible, sleep together now and then, and enjoy each other’s company. Instead, I smiled. Don’t want to upset the apple cart.

After work, we smoked a few joints in Central Park and then walked to a nearby diner for a bite to eat.

P.S. Earlier this week, Jesse invited me to accompany him to his parent’s house in May to celebrate our birthdays.

“Oh, that sounds great, but I’m not sure about a trip to Colorado.”

“We’re not going to Colorado. They live in Connecticut, remember? We can rent a car.”

I forgot that his parents lived in Connecticut. We talk so much about being from Colorado. As I recall, on the first night we met he told me his parents had moved.

Invitation accepted.

About the Author

C.C Everill was born in New England.  He earned a BA in Music and Theatre in the 1970’s.  Before moving to NYC, he kept a diary which was the foundation for “Dancing Before the Crash.”  He is now a retired piano teacher and resides in North America with his husband of 36 years and their three cats.

Author Links

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The Yakuza Path 4: The Deafening Silence by Amy Tasukada

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Book Title:  The Yakuza Path: The Deafening Silence (Book 4)

Author: Amy Tasukada

Publisher: ‎ Macarons & Tea Publishing

Release Date: December 1, 2018

Genre: Gay thriller, NOT ROMANCE

Tropes: Bad boys, tragic hero, unrequited love

Themes: Mafia, betrayal 

Heat Rating:  3 flames

Length:  235 pages

It can read as a standalone but you get more if you follow the series.

The book ends on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links 

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK  |  Kobo

Apple Books  |  B&N  | Google Play  |  Books2Read

An unproven alliance. A broken promise. A mafia boss must shed blood to secure peace…

Blurb 

Nao Murata is on the verge of brokering peace between his syndicate and the  Mafufugumi mob. To seal the deal, he’ll need to pick up Russian prostitutes to appease his newest ally. When the exchange goes sour, both sides draw blades and Nao has no choice but to care for a blood-soaked enemy. If the man doesn’t make it through the night, Nao and his crew will pay with their lives.

Outnumbered and stranded in enemy territory, Nao is forced to fight his way out before the Mafufugumi Godfather takes the deal off the table. As his wounded enemy’s heartbeat slows, Nao must act fast or condemn his syndicate to a brutal war.

The Deafening Silence is the fourth book in a series of Japanese mafia thrillers. If you like twisty action, authentic settings, and a touch of gay romance, then you’ll love Amy Tasukada’s pulse-pounding series.

Buy The Deafening Silence to immerse yourself in a bloody mafia tale today!

The Yakuza Path Series

BOOK 1 – Blood Stained Tea

BOOK 2 – Better Than Suicide

BOOK 3 – One Thousand Cranes

BOOK 4 – The Deafening Silence

BOOK 5 – Flowers of Flesh and Blood

BOOK 6 – Wrapped in Screams 

Releasing in November

Pre-Order here

Excerpt 

A car’s engine accelerating pulled Aki’s attention away from the phone. His eyes grew wide as a red Ferrari 458 pulled up in front of him. The sculpted body and raised headlights on the fenders sent a shiver down Aki’s spine. He was in love.

The door opened, and Shinji stepped out wearing tight black jeans and a red plaid coat with a few more zippers than necessary to give it a rocker vibe. But that car!

“You like it?” Shinji asked, gesturing to the sweetest ride Aki had been able to get close to in a long time.

“Like it?” Aki ran his hand across the warm hood. “I’m ready to propose.”

Shinji leaned over beside Aki and tapped the hood. “She does have one hell of a purr when she’s hot.”

Shinji’s red jacket rode up and revealed jeans hugging his ass like a second skin. He was showing off, but at the same time, Aki didn’t mind. If Nao could sleep with some Russian bastard, Aki could stare at the ass of an attractive guy with an even hotter car.

“You want to drive?” Shinji tossed the keys to Aki, who caught them in one hand.

“You mean it?”

“I don’t tease—at least not outside the bedroom.”

No other keys ever felt like they belonged in his hand. Aki shoved the briefcase in the back and slid into the driver’s seat. He brushed his hands over the fine leather detail. His fingers were made for the steering wheel.

“I always wanted to drive something like this.”

Shinji got beside him. “Murata doesn’t let you drive his flashy cars?”

Aki laughed. “Domestic brands aren’t known for their looks.”

“Jun told us he didn’t buy things not made by Japanese companies, but I didn’t believe him.”

“It’s true—everything from cars to suits. The only foreign thing he touches is his tea.”

“And a good hooker.”

Aki slammed on the gas, peeling out onto the street.

“Show-off.” Shinji grinned.

Aki asked, “Where’s the pawn shop?”

Shinji grabbed on to the door and let out a small laugh. “Good thing we have a deal with the cops.”

“Really? I’ve had a hard time getting ahold of Jun.”

“You have to ask the right person.”

“I see. Who’s the right person?”

“I forgot his name since I just deal with our Russia allies.”

Aki floored the accelerator, speeding through a changing light. “Father Murata is disappointed he hasn’t been released yet.”

“Don’t worry. We don’t want to raise suspicion. He’ll be released by the time we get back from the exchange with the Russians.”

More like get done holding Jun hostage. Nao was right. Something was off about the whole trip.

Aki slowed to a stop at a red light. The engine purred as if crying to be set free. Sports cars weren’t meant to be stuck idling.

Shinji pointed. “It’ll be a right at the next light.”

Shinji’s hair fell in his eyes, and he swept it back. Even with the coat, his biceps bulged. Nao kept his muscles lean, refining them in a boxing ring rather than lifting weights like Shinji must’ve done to get them so large.

Aki licked his lips. Both were appealing in their own way. Shinji probably would look hotter pinning Aki’s hands above his head and would have much more power behind each of his slamming thrusts. He could imagine the marks left on his back from being banged against the wall. Shinji could mark his body anyway he wanted. A small moan left the back of Aki’s throat, and if Shinji had heard it, he thankfully didn’t react, but Aki’s body had.

He blamed it on the car and the way it vibrated when they stopped. Not the fact that Shinji was objectively the hottest guy who’d ever hit on him before. Aki hadn’t just imagined what sex with him would be like for a full light change.

The light switched to green and Aki peeled out, hoping it would distract Shinji enough not to notice the bulge growing in Aki’s trousers.

About the Author 

International best-selling author Amy Tasukada writes thrilling times of crime, love, and gore. Readers who crave diverse characters, unique settings, and edge-of-your-seat action will devour her Yakuza Path series. Readers who seek less blood and more love will swoon over the Yakuza Path Romance and Would it Be Okay to Love You? Series. Amy is an atheist, queer author who enjoys drinking tea, Japanese street fashion and visual kei music.  Her calico cat, O’Hara, is never far from her side. Amy lives in North Texas, but is always planning her next trip to Japan.

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CLUBBED: A Story of Gay Love: Trials, Tribulations and Triumphs by Robert A. Karl #kindleunlimited #giveaway

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: CLUBBED: A Story of Gay Love: Trials, Tribulations and Triumphs

Author: Robert A. Karl

Publisher: Robert A. Karl

Cover Artist: Hussnain Designz

Release Date: April 13, 2021

Genre: Gay Historical Fiction

Themes: Coming Out, LGBTQ+ Community, Gay Club Life, Marriage Equality, AIDS

Heat Rating: 3 flames    

Length: 74 547 words/ 246 pages

This is the first book in a planned series of three. It ends on a cliffhanger. This book mostly explores gay life before the AIDS pandemic began. The book ends just as HIV is beginning to infect the gay community.

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Everyone at the club has a story, and every story deserves to be told.

Blurb

Sex. Drugs. Lust. Courage. Loyalty. Betrayal. Drag Divas. Hustlers. Porn. Gogo Boys. Anything is possible at the gay club scene. Even LOVE. 

Joey, fresh from the suburbs, gets involved in the gay club scene in Philadelphia during the late 1970s and early 80s. He shares the stories of a diverse cast of characters, including his own special love story. Everyone at the club has a story, and every story deserves to be told.

Excerpt 

Once the team meeting was over, everyone left except for me and Henry. I poured us a couple drinks while he climbed up the steps to the DJ booth, turning the music up to a blast and starting the light show. He came down with a backpack, carrying it to the middle of the dance floor, where he started unpacking, spreading a blanket and a couple of pillows on the floor. 

“We gonna sleep here?” I asked innocently, knowing what his intentions were. 

“Maybe,” Henry answered, with a wink. We sat cross-legged on the blanket, surrounded by music and lights, as I raised my drink and offered a toast. “To us and our gay sanctuary!” I said, clinking our glasses and drinking up. In the next instant, Henry was on top of me, tearing at my clothes and grinding into me, kissing me with the hot passion of youth. 

A minute later, I was totally naked, on my stomach, with Henry on top of me, penetrating me as he sucked on my neck so hard I knew that I’d have a hot hickey the next day. He started slowly, rhythmically moving his hips as he dug his way deeper and deeper inside me. 

He knew what I liked and how I liked to be treated. He whispered hoarsely in my ear, grunting earnestly, as he called me his little bitch, his ho, his pussyboy, telling me that he owned my ass and more. 

As he was forcing me to answer “Yes, Sir!” to his questions, demanding I answer louder and louder each time, we suddenly heard the door to the men’s room in the back open. Apparently, two of the new bartenders had decided to spend a little quality time in there, enjoying a quick encounter after everyone else had left. When they saw what was going on, with Henry dominating me thoroughly, they hurried towards the exit, giggling the entire way. 

“Good night, Boss!” they called out in unison.

“Good night, boys, see you tomorrow,” Henry answered, as he kept his strong hand tight against my mouth so I could only remain silent. 

“You know I’m the real boss, right?” 

“Yes, Sir” was my immediate answer, as he shook in spasms, coming to his climax, seeding me right there on the dance floor. 

The grand opening finally arrived at 10 PM the next night. I made sure that all the team members were in their proper positions, and I made a grand gesture as I flung open the door – that big beautiful red door – to NOTHING. No one was there to hit the new club at the very first minute. 

“Calm down,” I thought to myself. I had to remind myself that this is an after hours club, and who really would go to a place like this at 10 PM? The real action at the regular bars wouldn’t even really get started for another hour at least.

So the DJ kept spinning up in his booth, along with the lighting tech  controlling the lasers. The bartenders tried to keep themselves busy, wiping down the bars and rinsing glasses that were already clean. 

11 PM, still nothing. I was starting to get a little nervous. Did we do all this for nothing? I was a small town guy in the big city. Maybe this was a dumb idea.

Henry came over to talk and he was his usual self, full of positivity. He told me that he personally knew over 100 guys who had promised to show up for the first night.

At about 12:15 AM, a group of four guys finally came in through the door. A feeling of sweet relief came over me that at least we had a few customers, though I could see the disappointed look on their faces as they realized they were the only people there. But that quickly changed as guys started to trickle in, slowly at first, then turning to a steady stream. 

By 1:30 AM, the club was more than half full, with the line of customers waiting to get in getting longer with each passing minute. By the time the bars in the Gayborhood closed at 2 AM, groups of rowdy, drunken gay men were making their way a few blocks north, turning our grand opening into a truly grand night for Sanctuary.

As the night progressed, I was drinking a little too heavily, getting excited as I watched the crowd from the DJ booth. While it was a mostly white crowd, I was happy that it wasn’t exclusively white, signaling that an integrated club just might be acceptable in this town. Despite my drunkenness, I noticed a few details that surprised me. 

About the Author 

Robert A. Karl is a native son of Philadelphia, PA, the City of Brotherly Love. He earned his M.Ed. from Temple University and worked for the School District of Philadelphia as a teacher and technology specialist for 30 years. He also taught courses in Educational Technology at the Temple University College of Education.

Losing many friends to the AIDS pandemic dramatically altered his world. Living in the LGBTQ community provided the historical background for his first novel. His work is a tribute to the incredible diversity in the LGBTQ community.

Currently retired and living in San Juan, PR, he is the proud Gay Dog Dad to Zuna, the Awesome Boston Terrier. 

Author Links

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Lillian and the Italians by David Gee

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: Lillian and the Italians

Author:  David Gee

Publisher:  The Conrad Press

Cover Artist: Charlotte Mouncey

Release Date:  April 11, 2021

Genres: 1960s Mafia Romance/Romance Thriller

Tropes: Bi-guys and their parents

Themes: Mother comes to terms with finding her son is bisexual

Heat Rating:  2 flames       

Length: 101 000 words/ 366 pages

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

Goodreads

Buy Links  

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK  

The Conrad Press

Venice, Amalfi – secrets and danger

Blurb

Looking for her wayward son in 1960s Italy, an English widow encounters revelations and begins a dangerous romance.

In Venice Lillian Rutherford meets the ex-gigolo who has shared the last four years of Andrew’s life; his disclosures force her to confront a side of her son that she never suspected – he is bisexual. Going on to Amalfi, she meets the charismatic Prince Massimo Monfalcone, whose gay playboy son is being held to ransom in Corsica with Andrew. Massimo distracts Lillian with his life story: his first wife was murdered in a Sicilian blood-feud; his second wife killed herself because of his infidelity. As they wait for news of their sons, a bond grows between Lillian and the Prince…

Excerpt 

Massimo led her across to a wooden bench overlooking the steps down to the platform of rock and the barely whispering sea. ‘I love this house,’ he said as they sat down, ‘but the Amalfi coast doesn’t have much to offer the boys compared to Sardinia or some of the other jet-set hang-outs. Positano used to be chic but it’s become very touristy.’

‘At their age a touristy place ought to be what they’d want: discotheques and bars.’ 

‘Fausto’s happier in a crypt full of old ledgers, and Fabio prefers to be seen where it’s fashionable to be seen. If he was hanging about in low dives with working-class types and slumming tourists I’d be worried about his security. There’s safety in numbers with his rich society friends, but I do worry that he may acquire a taste for dangerous vices.’

Lillian took a deep breath that owed nothing to the steps. She said: ‘I hope Andrew won’t be a bad influence on him.’

Massimo stared deep into her eyes. He said: ‘On the contrary, he may be a better influence than some of the crowd he usually hangs around with. Your son has a certain amount of culture and sophistication. Perhaps some of that will rub off on Fabio.’

‘Have you met my son?’

He nodded. ‘At Fabio’s birthday party in Siena last April. I didn’t stay long, I didn’t want to spoil his fun with his young friends, but, yes, I met Andrew. He has a lot of charm and although he pretends to be shallow and cynical, I could see that he was a man of sensitivity and deep feelings underneath.’ He paused, still looking at her. ‘The sensitivity he gets from you, I’m quite sure. The shallowness is, I think, a thing of his own making. His looks come from his father’s side, I guess, but there’s something that connects you and him just as there is with me and Fabrizio although he’s the image of his mother. That something, that connection, is what has brought you to Italy. I would go to the ends of the earth for either of my sons.’

A driver tooted his impatience on the next headland. Lillian’s eyes were filmed with tears which she managed not to shed. ‘We’re keeping them waiting,’ she said, gesturing at the group of men at the car.

‘They are paid to wait,’ he said bluntly. ‘This is an important moment for you, for us.’ He took her right hand and held it between both of his. ‘Lillian, if you need to cry, you should cry. There can be no shame between us, the parents of two difficult sons.’

Freeing her hand, she took another deep breath. ‘My son is homosexual,’ she said, meeting his penetrating gaze.

‘I know this,’ he said.

‘He’s more than twice the age of your – Fabio.’ The boy’s name was finally fixed in her mind. ‘He may – corrupt him.’

Massimo smiled into her eyes. ‘My dear Lillian, it’s possible that my useless son will “corrupt” Andrew, who has given up the practice of interior design to go sailing with him. My son too seems to be homosexual. Of course at seventeen he may grow out of it, although I think not in his case. It’s a disappointment, but there are worse things he could be.’

‘I can’t think of many,’ said Lillian wretchedly.

He mocked her with a gentle laugh and patted her hands. ‘By the time I was seventeen I’d made love to every available girl in our village as well as some of their mothers and even some of their brothers.’ Lillian, with an effort, managed not to look shocked. ‘I was lucky,’ he continued. ‘Girls were supposed to be virgins until they married, but a surprising number of them were available for the grandson of Don Massimo Monfalcone. For many Sicilian boys to this day homosexual activity is one of the more respectable ways of acquiring a bit of experience before marriage.’

Lillian supposed he was hinting at some form of degeneracy that was thankfully beyond the reach of her imagination. ‘I shouldn’t be telling you this,’ he apologized. ‘I’m trying to make the point that boys do things they mostly grow out of. I did. Andrew apparently hasn’t. Maybe Fabio will, maybe he won’t, but whatever happens I don’t think your son will have much to do with it.’

‘Between you and Carlo I seem to be getting a whole new sexual education at the age of fifty,’ she said.

He laughed again. ‘Is that how old you are? One would never think so.’

About the Author 

David Gee has worked in London and the Persian Gulf. His previous novels include Shaikh-Down and The Bexhill Missile Crisis, a prequel to Lillian and the Italians. He lives on the UK south coast near Brighton. His website and blog are at: www.davidgeebooks.com

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The Yakuza Path: One Thousand Cranes by Amy Tasukada

BOOK BLAST

Book Title:  The Yakuza Path: One Thousand Cranes

Author: Amy Tasukada

Publisher: ‎ Macarons & Tea Publishing

Release Date: December 12, 2017

Genre: Gay thriller (not a romance)

Tropes: Bad boys, tragic hero 

Themes: Mafia, betrayal 

Heat Rating: 1 flame    

Length:  130 pages

It is book 3 in The Yakuza Path series and can be read as a standalone but it’s worth reading the previous books to follow the ongoing storyline.

This book does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links 

Amazon US  | Amazon UK

Kobo  |  Apple Books  |  B&N  |  Google Play  |  Books2Read  

When a body goes missing, a young Yakuza’s life hangs in the balance…

Blurb 

Aki Hisona’s latest promotion is a cause for celebration. But because his new job is working as the personal secretary for the Yakuza’s Kyoto-based godfather, it’s also a cause for dangerous envy. He takes an invitation from a friend for congratulatory drinks, but Aki never thought the night would end with a deadly knife fight…

Aki is tasked with disposing of his friend’s corpse, but there’s one problem: the body is missing. As body parts surface around town, it’s only a matter of time before the police piece together the clues. But keeping one step ahead of the cops may not matter if Aki can’t solve the mystery before his cold, unforgiving godfather boss does…

One Thousand Cranes is a pulse-pounding thriller in the ongoing series of Japanese mafia stories. If you like gritty settings, page-turning whodunits, and accurate portrayals of Kyoto traditions, then you’ll love Amy Tasukada’s gripping tale. 

The Yakuza Path Series

BOOK 1 – Blood Stained Tea

BOOK 2 – Better Than Suicide

BOOK 3 – One Thousand Cranes

BOOK 4 – The Deafening Silence

BOOK 5 – Flowers of Flesh and Blood

BOOK 6 – Releasing in November

Excerpt 

Shoda squeezed Aki’s arm. “Don’t think you’re getting out of buying me a beer that easily, Mr. Hot Shot Secretary.”

“We got to find a place first.”

“There should be one up another block.”

The streets were quiet, except for trash workers, but they avoided even glancing toward Aki and Shoda. Even without the inward-facing arrows of the Matsukawa crest pinned on their shirts, they could never lose their yakuza swagger.

“I’ve been trying to suck up to the ward leader in the redlight district,” Shoda said.

“You think the ward leader will move you there when your apprenticeship is over?”

“I think so, but who the fuck knows. I do everything they want, and I still feel like I haven’t gotten anywhere.”

“It hasn’t gone unnoticed. There have been a few times Father Murata talked about how he wished all the recruits were as dedicated as you.”

Shoda tugged on his ear. “I just gotta spend another six months cleaning toilets. Then probably another doing the same thing at one of the Kyoto wards. I joined the yakuza, not a maid service.”

Aki laughed. “I felt that way, too. It takes time. People have to learn they can trust you before they hand over bigger duties.”

“Is that so?”

“Wherever you go, I wish you the best. You’ll make a name for yourself.”

Even with the good wishes, Shoda’s face remained tight. “It was easier for you.”

The two passed through a narrow alley reeking of rotting fish and piss. The yellow trash bags took up so much space they had to walk single file.

“Maybe if I’d taken it up the ass, too, I would’ve gotten a cushy job answering phones by now,” Shoda said.

“I don’t just answ—”

“So you still have to suck his dick, too? Maybe we could both take turns. The fag might want some variety.”

Aki’s mouth slackened. “Shoda, you’re drunk.”

“And more clearheaded than ever before.”

Shoda snatched a handful of Aki’s chin-length hair and jerked him back. The world spun, and the first of the sun rays blinded Aki. Then Shoda’s fist connected with the side of Aki’s

face, and he fell onto the stuffed trash bags.

“Shoda!” Aki cried out while all the hours of training he put in at the boxing gym fluttered away like a paper trapped in a whirlwind.

“B-but we’re friends,” Aki managed to say. “Why? Why are you doing this?”

Shoda grunted and drew his arm back again. “Huh? High school grad can’t figure it out? You think you’re better than the rest of us, don’t you?”

Aki held up his arms, covering his face, but Shoda delivered a blow to his wrist that sent a shock wave of pain throughout Aki’s body. But it didn’t hurt as much as their breaking friendship.

“No! I never thought that,” Aki pleaded.

“I’m going to fuck you up so bad Father Murata won’t want to look at you. You two-toned freak!”

Another punch landed on Aki’s stomach. The beer sloshing in his gut churned up his throat. His thoughts swirled as he slid down the trash bags and vomited. It splashed back onto his white hands.

Shoda kicked him in the ribs. A trail of acid followed the rest of the contents of Aki’s stomach. Even with the copper taste of blood mixing with acid in his mouth, Aki knew the scuffle had to be a misunderstanding. They were best friends. Shoda just got a little hotheaded.

Aki wiped his mouth as Shoda stumbled back. Sure, Aki trained on a punching bag, but he never sparred with an actual person, let alone struck his best friend.

“Sho…”

About the Author 

International best-selling author Amy Tasukada writes thrilling times of crime, love, and gore. Readers who crave diverse characters, unique settings, and edge-of-your-seat action will devour her Yakuza Path series. Readers who seek less blood and more love will swoon over the Yakuza Path Romance and Would it Be Okay to Love You? Series. Amy is an atheist, queer author who enjoys drinking tea, Japanese street fashion and visual kei music.  Her calico cat, O’Hara, is never far from her side. Amy lives in North Texas, but is always planning her next trip to Japan.

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Bangkok Burning by Robin Newbold @rmnewbold #giveaway

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: Bangkok Burning

Author: Robin Newbold

Publisher: The Conrad Press

Cover Artist: Charlotte Mouncey

Release Date: January 2021

Genre: Gay Thriller

Tropes: Coming out story

Themes: Good against evil fight 

Heat Rating:  3 flames    

Length: 80 000 words/305 pages

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

Goodreads 

Buy Links

Amazon US  | Amazon UK

Foyles  |  Queer Lit 

How far would you go to get what you want?

Blurb 

Bangkok Burning is a brilliantly unsettling thriller about the dark side of desire. It is also something of a warped love letter to a place teeming with a rogues’ gallery of characters, for this is not just about one man’s struggle but a portrait of a whole city on the brink.

Closeted forty-year-old Graham Floyd, trapped by anxiety issues and an abusive marriage, finally escapes, running away from his lifeless existence on a smile and a whim, swapping dreary south London for the brutal chaos of Bangkok. He soon finds himself prey not only to Natasha, the transsexual nightclub schemer he loses his heart to, but in thrall to the slimy American millionaire Svengali who owns her. In a place where Graham is at last true to himself, will he triumph in a fight to the death to get what he really wants?

Excerpt 

 Graham knew he only had seven days, just a week to get what he craved – a new life.

A cacophony of voices in pidgin English broke him out of his trance, the grabbing, everywhere hands accosting him as he neared the entrance. He was back, the tawdry plywood exterior looking even poorer than he remembered illuminated by the tacky red neon sign announcing Christie Cabaret Show. Greeted by the same throbbing Thai pop music, beating in time to his heart, the gutter stink of cheap perfume, the place looked much smaller and far more decadent than it had in his mind’s eye over the last few weeks. In his dreams he’d expected to walk in and find her, poised, as if she’d been waiting for him, but Graham felt cheated as he looked around frantically at the other ladyboys. Though how he hated that word, the fact he could possibly be desperate for one of their ilk. Staring out at the braying red-faced punters, Thai girls curled serpent-like around bovine white men, their eyes calculating every move, brains computing every sentence uttered he saw a kind of hell and of Natasha there was no sign. 

‘God,’ he said to himself, feeling his muscles tense, mouth desert dry, palms leaking sweat, chewing at nails so destroyed blood was oozing out of them.

‘Can I help you, Sir?’ said not a divine being but a heavily made-up boy.  

‘Where’s Natasha?’ he said, wheeling around, scanning the bar again.  

‘Natasha?’ said the boy with a shrug.   

He flopped down at a bar stool overlooking the ramshackle stage, sighing as the first strains of Whitney Houston’s ‘I Will Always Love You’ – one of wife Sheila’s favourites – struck up and a ridiculously elaborately dressed ladyboy appeared, lip-synching in all the wrong places. 

‘Beer, please,’ said Graham to the boy who’d continued to hover and he was gone with a practised and unnecessary shake of his arse. 

‘All right, babe. As one alcoholic would say to another, you look like you need a drink,’ said a man to his right, fruity voice cutting through the din, a gnarled hand seemingly weighed down by a worrying amount of gold jewellery enveloping his arm. ‘Great this, ain’t it.’

‘Graham, what’s yours? Though everyone calls me Gray as in Mr Gray. Like my life,’ he said, turning to look at his new best friend, taking in the yellowing skin which was the hue of old newspapers, the gin-coloured hair.

‘Nigel… Nigel Monroe.’

‘Good to meet you, Nigel Monroe.’ 

‘You can live like a king ‘ere, dear,’ he said, voice a shouty amalgam of Cockney and camp, raising a glass unsteadily with one hand, patting the boy’s arse with the other. ‘These girls, you see, know what they want and how to get it.’

‘Do you know Natasha?’ 

‘Let’s see, I’ve been here since 1990, so that’s twenty years now. Twenty bloody years man and boy…’

‘Where were you before?’

‘Before? Was there a before?’ he said, looking out into the middle distance. ‘All over. And you?’

‘South London.’

‘Don’t sound like it.’

‘I don’t have a strong accent. Guess you could say I’m well read. Like my crosswords and that. But, come on, what have you been doing here?’ 

‘Ah, the first rule of being an expat, never ask that question ‘ere,’ he said, shakily raising a hand. ‘People get offended. But, you know, this and that…’ 

As he tailed off, Graham sensed regret, his companion staring off beyond the nonsense on stage and into the darkness beyond, as though wondering how he’d ‘lost touch’, so the phrase went, with friends and family, with his roots, with who he actually was, traded it all in for a seat in a dive bar in a city halfway around the world. He didn’t want to bloody end up like that.

About the Author 

Robin Newbold is a Hove-based journalist and freelance travel writer, having returned to England after six years living in the Far East. His work has appeared in Time Out, the South China Morning PostBangkok Metro and Gay Times. This is his third novel. Bloody Summer was published in 2012, while Vacuum-Packed came out in 2014. He is a Crystal Palace fan.

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The Yakuza Path: Blood Stained Tea by Amy Tasukada

BOOK BLAST

Book Title:  The Yakuza Path: Blood Stained Tea

Author: Amy Tasukada

Publisher: Self-Published

Release Date: November 28, 2016

Genre: Gay thriller (NOT ROMANCE)

Tropes: Forbidden love, bad boys, tragic hero

Themes: Mafia 

Heat Rating: 1 flame       

Length: 350 pages

It is the first book in the series and does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links – FREE to read on all platforms 

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

Kobo  |  Google Play  |  Apple Books

Barnes and Noble  |  Books 2 Read

A bloody past haunts him. A devastating present lures him back…

Blurb 

Nao hides from his violent past in the Japanese mob by opening a teahouse in Japan’s cultural center, Kyoto. His past comes flooding back when he discovers a gravely injured man with a tattooed chest, a bloody knife, and a Korean business card.

Saehyun would’ve died if not for Nao’s help. He knows nothing of his savior’s connection with the local mafia, but Saehyun has his own secrets. He commands the Korean mafia, the mortal enemy of Nao’s former syndicate.

As Nao and Saehyun grow closer, so does the strength of the Korean mob. A shocking murder pulls Nao back into a past he’d all but abandoned. War is looming, and Nao must choose between protecting Saehyun or avenging the honor of his old mafia family.

Blood Stained Tea is the first book in the The Yakuza Path series. If you like complex characters, blood-soaked violence, and twists you won’t see coming, then you’ll love Amy Tasukada’s gritty crime masterpiece.

The Yakuza Path Series

BOOK 1 – Blood Stained Tea

BOOK 2 – Better Than Suicide

BOOK 3 – One Thousand Cranes

BOOK 4 – The Deafening Silence

BOOK 5 – Flowers of Flesh and Blood

BOOK 6 – Releasing in November

Excerpt 

 It was no collection of branches, but a human body slumped against the tree roots.

“Are you all right?” Nao yelled over the cracking thunder.

No answer came.

Nao dropped his umbrella and crossed the footbridge in a single stride. The rain trickled down his back, plastering his hair to his neck. As he groped for a cherry-tree branch to steady himself on the embankment, his clog sank into the mud, which slathered between his toes. He pulled one foot up, but the shoe stuck, and he tipped forward. The cold river stung his face, and he spat out the water that had flooded his mouth.

Nao crawled to the body and came face-to-face with the unconscious young man. He had to be a few years younger than Nao. Lightning flashed, exposing the man’s bushy eyebrows and sloping nose. An eye was swollen shut, and blood dripped from his open mouth. Nao grabbed the arm of the man, who hissed in pain. Blood poured out from underneath his cut sleeve. Nao swallowed. He hadn’t seen such flowing blood since that night. The cut was sliced clean and couldn’t have been from the stranger’s fall in the canal.

Nao pulled at the sleeve and held it against the wound. 

“Can you get up?” 

Nao received no reply, but he waited, hoping the minute or two of pressure would close the cut. The warm fluid flowed out between Nao’s fingers.    

“Your arm’s in rough shape. I’ll take you to a hospital.” 

“No. No hospital,” the injured man said, and then he muttered something in Korean, but the Korean sounded like the cawing of crows to Nao.

“Someone there should be able to speak Korean. You need to get your arm looked at. Come on!” 

Nao reached for the man’s uninjured arm, but the stranger pushed him away with such force Nao fell back into the mud. He curled his fingers into a fist, and mud oozed out. No matter how much the stranger struggled, Nao wouldn’t leave him.

The rain drowned out the man’s continued mumbling. He was probably telling Nao why he couldn’t go to the hospital. Expired visa or lack of insurance, Nao didn’t need to know.

With an uneven step toward the stranger, Nao realized his right shoe had stayed in the muck. His bare foot slid through the sludge, and he grimaced. Lightning flashed, and the stranger’s mouth no longer moved. Nao’s eyes widened. He couldn’t let another person die in front of him.  

“Wake up.”

No reply or movement from the stranger. 

Nao clenched his teeth. He grabbed the injured arm, pressing his thumb into the cut. The man hissed in pain and then spat out more Korean. Nao backed away. He had deepened the injury, but the cruelty woke the guy up, so it was worth it.

“Let’s go.”

“No hospitals.” 

“We need to get out of the rain before we both get sick.”

Nao tugged the good arm over his shoulder. The man moaned as Nao hoisted him up. The stranger was considerably taller, built larger in all aspects, and he weighed down on Nao’s shoulder. Yet the drive to do something right for once carried him on.

About the Author 

International best-selling author Amy Tasukada writes thrilling times of crime, love, and gore. Readers who crave diverse characters, unique settings, and edge-of-your-seat action will devour her Yakuza Path series. Readers who seek less blood and more love will swoon over the Yakuza Path Romance and Would it Be Okay to Love You? Series. Amy is an atheist, queer author who enjoys drinking tea, Japanese street fashion and visual kei music.  Her calico cat, O’Hara, is never far from her side. Amy lives in North Texas, but is always planning her next trip to Japan.

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Book Blast – The Dead Don’t Lie by Anne Russo #giveaway

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: The Dead Don’t Lie

Author: Anne Russo

Publisher: JMS Books 

Cover Artist: Written Ink Designs 

Release Date: 3/13/21

Genres: Contemporary MM Romance, Suspense, Thriller, Action-Adventure

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Forbidden Love, Forced Proximity, Slow Burn, Found Families

Themes: Death & Dying, Betrayal, Love & Sacrifice, Family, Guilt & Loss 

Heat Rating: 4 flames  

Length: 75 000 words/250 pages

This is the first book in a series and features an unresolved ending/cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links 

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK  |   Apple

Barnes & Noble  |  Bookstrand  |  Google Play

Kobo  |  Scribd  |  Smashwords

Blurb

While young doctor Adam Morrow resigns himself to an uninformed existence, world-weary assassin Ian Abbott struggles with a life he never asked for. When the two strangers meet by chance, the attraction is immediate. And deadly, as Adam walks in on Ian in the middle of a hit.

The situation spirals out of control once Ian discovers he and Adam share a connection far more profound than either imagined. Shocked by the discovery, Ian makes the hasty decision to kidnap him.

Overnight Adam is torn from his promising career and a family who believes him dead. Things go from bad to worse when he finds himself reunited with a mother he never knew who is now head of a covert and shadowy group of killers for hire. Forced into joining their ranks, with Ian as his reluctant trainer and handler, Adam is given a series of impossible tasks to complete.

To survive, he must fight with everything he has to keep his life, his sanity, and his very soul from being swept up in a violent and chaotic world even as he battles his unwanted and complicated feelings for Ian.

For his part, Ian, a man with dark secrets of his own, has a past he isn’t ready to share with Adam even as the other man worms into his life in more ways than one. The two grow closer and lines blur — between good and evil, friend or foe, enemy or lover. But something, or someone, plots against them, determined to do everything in their power to keep them apart. Even if it means destroying them both.

Trigger Warning: This story contains a brief scene of sexual assault and features an unresolved ending/cliffhanger.

Excerpt 

Assignment completed, Ian glanced down at his coat, noticing a few questionable stains even black couldn’t hide. Sighing, he stepped into the adjacent bathroom for a quick wash. He was cleaning off the excess blood splatter when he heard the door open. He stopped and listened as a curious voice called out, “Hello?”

Ian reached for his handgun, quiet as he slid it into his hand. He edged forward, waiting for his visitor to discover Mr. Mallory was no longer among the living. Ian didn’t have long to wait.

“Jesus Christ,” the visitor swore, taking several steps backward where Ian waited in the shadows. Once he was close enough, Ian pressed the gun’s muzzle into the back of his head, stopping him in his tracks.

“Don’t move,” he ordered. Even in the darkened room, Ian knew he looked familiar. “Turn around.”

Slowly, the man turned toward him, shaking. Ian didn’t miss the shock of recognition when he saw who held him at gunpoint.

“Yeah, I remember you too. This is unfortunate,” Ian remarked and meant it. He didn’t relish putting a bullet right between those pretty eyes, but he’d seen his face. Not once. But twice now. And, unfortunately, he’d have to die for it.

“Wait,” the young doctor urged, his hands in the air. “You don’t have to shoot me.”

No crying. No begging. A statement. The doctor even met Ian’s eye when he said it. Ian couldn’t help but admire this guy’s guts. A shame he had to kill him, but he didn’t have a choice. His finger twitched on the trigger.

“I’m afraid I do,” Ian answered, glancing at his name tag. “Dr. Adam Morrow,” he whispered under his breath, the name hitting like a sucker punch to the gut. “Your name is Adam Morrow?”

“Yeah, that’s my — why?”

Ian wasn’t listening, rendered speechless as he studied the man. Pieces were clicking together in a hail of memories, memories he fought for years to keep hidden. Now they came rising to the surface one by one, swifter than he could recall them. All tied to the image of a child’s face. A child whose cheerful grin and name, Adam Morrow, had haunted him for the last fourteen years.

Ian snapped into the present. He charged forth, seizing him by the arm. Adam tried to shake him off as he propelled him toward the windows. Meager light from outside street lamps was enough to spy the lingering traces of that boy. One whose existence itself had been a terrible mystery he’d never wanted to delve too deep into, terrified of the answer awaiting him on the other side.

“Look at me!” he ordered, pressing the muzzle under Adam’s chin.

Adam hesitated but didn’t have much say so with a gun buried in his throat. One glance and the truth slammed into Ian like a bolt of lightning. A sweeping recognition. His eyes told him the entire story in an instant. They were remarkable, dark green, and flecked with gold, memorable —her eyes. There was no way he’d be able to kill him. Not now. The implications of his discovery growing as they sized up the other, each of them unsure what to do next.

“Who the hell are you?” Adam asked, low and shaky.

“Who the hell are you?” Ian countered.

About the Author

Anne makes her home in Connecticut with her wonderful and ever-so-patient partner. A lifelong reader, writer, and curious student, Anne hopes to create exciting multi-dimensional characters and worlds but with a queer sensibility. The Dead Don’t Lie is the first book in the Dead Generations series and her first novel.

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