New Release – Waxing Poetic for Christmas by Mara Townsend #KindleUnlimited #Giveaway

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Waxing Poetic for Christmas

Author: Mara Townsend

Publisher: Self-published 

Cover Artist: Mara Townsend

Release Date: November 29, 2019

Genre/s: Contemporary New Adult Holiday MM Romance

Trope/s: Established relationship, first time kink exploration/BDSM, holiday romance

Themes: Trust, love, balance, excitement, holiday, sexy

Heat Rating:  4.5 – 5 flames (BDSM play and multiple sex scenes)

Length: 10 – 12k words/ 60-70 pages 

It is a standalone story.

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Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

Universal Amazon Link

Blurb

Casey loves sitting in Santa’s lap.

That is, his holiday-obsessed boyfriend Nick is wearing nothing but a Santa hat and wants to know what Casey wants for Christmas. There is one thing, but it’s something Casey’s been holding back on. Melting candle wax stirs a burning desire in him. All he wants for Christmas is to experience the hot drip on his body…if he can find the courage to finally ask for it. All the sugar cookie-scented candles are making it hard to resist adding a kinky request to his wish list of gifts from his sexy St. Nick.

With the holiday spirit driving him on, Casey asks Nick to give him a hot present he’ll never forget. It’s the season of giving, after all, and this will be a gift they can share. Will Nick become Casey’s personal naughty Santa and fulfill his secret fantasy? 

Waxing Poetic for Christmas is a steamy holiday MM romance featuring kink discovery, wax play, holiday sweaters, and a sugary fireside HEA perfect for the holiday season.

 

Excerpt 

Nick breaks out in laughter, pressing it to Casey’s temple in hot puffs that brush over his ear. Nick gives him a squeeze. He backs away from Casey and waves around a lone tube sock.

Casey raises an eyebrow. “Really, Nick?”

“What? The tube sock method is a tried and true classic.” Nick winks and flips the sock in the air once, catching it with a flourish. He’s so dramatic, but Casey loves it. “We don’t have to live on campus to utilize it.”

“I thought you just said we didn’t have to worry about your roommates,” Casey points out.

“I know. I did tell them we wanted some space for the night, but this is just a little extra precaution. Just in case they do end up coming up for air from their science project.”

Casey watches Nick dance down the hallway swinging the sock around.

“Grab the ice and the bowl of cold water, will you?” Nick calls.

Retrieving the last of their safety supplies, Casey trails after Nick into his bedroom. Nick admires his sock-hanging handy work like it’s a Michelangelo in a museum.

“Ohh, ahh,” Casey deadpans. He hoists the bowl of water. “Here.”

Nick takes it from him and sets it on the nightstand by a small fire extinguisher and pile of washcloths.

“Do you really think we’ll need that?” Casey gestures to the extinguisher.

Nick throws him a boyish grin. “Fire safety first. Boy Scouts, dude.”

The snowman monstrosity of a shower curtain is open and spread across the floor, the cheerful pattern winking up at Casey. He sets the bag of ice down.

“Okay, last checks,” Nick announces. He ticks off his fingers one by one. “Bathroom, protein bar, shaved?”

Casey nods along with each one. His stomach somersaults, but he’s ready.

“Did you pick a safeword?” Nick raises his eyebrows seriously.

“Just use stop lights.”

Nick nods in agreement. “Alright. We won’t make this too long, either. I want to feel out what your tolerance is slowly without tiring you out too much.”

“What about what I said? I want to take it.” Casey’s cheeks burn with the truth of that statement. “Whatever you want to give me.”

“And slow and steady is what I want to give you.” Nick reaches out and threads his fingers through Casey’s hair. “Got it?”

“Yeah,” Casey breathes.

“Get undressed. Leave your underwear on.”

It’s a command, not a request. Nick’s gaze heats with it, pupils going dark with desire. Casey’s stomach bottoms out and he exhales a shaking breath before yanking his t-shirt over his head and flinging it at the bed. His flannel pants follow. Nick picks up and toys with a bottle of oil.

As Casey strips, Nick grabs his fluffy Santa hat and sets it on his head so it sits askew. It pushes some of his wavy fringe into his eyes and he watches Casey as he waits for Nick’s command.

Nick waves to the shower curtain. “Kneel down in the middle. Hand on your thighs.”

Casey’s quick to follow directions, dropping to his knees. The plastic curtain crinkles and it sounds as loud in Casey’s ears as his breathing. A shiver ripples through his body. His nipples harden. It’s cold in the room, even with the building’s heat on.

While he waits, Nick lines up a few candles and a lighter.

“First things first,” Nick murmurs. “I want you to watch me.”

Nick doesn’t even have to ask for that. Casey’s gaze is already glued to him as he lights one candle and lets the wax pool once it begins to melt.

He holds the candle so it hovers over his exposed wrist. His gaze flickers to Casey.

“Are you watching, Case?”

“Yes,” Casey whispers, eyes wide.

“Good.”

Nick waits a beat, moving the candle just enough so the flame dances. Then he allows a drop of melted wax to fall onto his wrist. Nick inhales through his nose and hums. The wax skips down, hardening into a pearly line across Nick’s tan skin.

“Nice,” Nick murmurs. “Want me to do another test drop?”

In his head, Casey says yes.

What happens aloud is a sound that’s some approximation of an affirmative that half-lodges in Casey’s throat. He sucks his lips between his teeth, eyes trained on Nick’s wrist. They’ve barely started and already his chest is expanding, pulse thrumming beneath his skin in anticipation. Casey swallows thickly and resists the urge to shift on his knees, keeping still under Nick’s gaze.

 

BookBrushImage246

 

About the Author 

Mara Townsend is a bisexual indie author of LGBTQ+ romances. She loves to explore intimate relationship development of the feels-inducing variety to invoke the eternal just kiss plea from the reader, as well as crafting strong platonic friendships with heaps of heart and soul. Her stories showcase diverse representation, love stories with realistic emotions—never mindless fluff, a healthy dose of humor, and a side helping of her favorite tropes.

She hangs out in fan communities online and learned how to write the kind of stories that she’s passionate about through experimental character-driven fiction based in her favorite worlds. When not writing, she can be found soaking up sunshine at the beach, traveling the world to fill in her passport, perpetually collecting plants, and reading as many fake-dating romance books as she can find.

Author Links

Blog/Website  |  Facebook |  Twitter

Instagram  |  Newsletter Sign-up  |  Pinterest

Giveaway 

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win one of five ebook copies Waxing Poetic for Christmas

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New Release – A Christmas Wedding by A E Ryecart #KindleUnlimited #Giveaway

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: A Christmas Wedding

Author: A E Ryecart

Publisher: Independently Published

Cover Artist: Tammy Clarke/Meredith Russell 

Release Date: November 19, 2019

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance

Themes: Christmas, Wedding/Marriage, Domineering family

Heat Rating: 3 flames  

Length: 49 000 words

It is part of a series but it can certainly be read as a standalone.

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Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

 

Christmas. A Wedding. Family. It’s the Perfect Storm…

Blurb 

For Rory Kincaid marrying Jack, the youngest son of the aristocratic De Lacy family, on Christmas Eve, is a dream come true. Handing over the wedding planning to Jack’s mother, the strong-willed Lady Diana, is turning out to be more of a nightmare.

As their big day approaches, the pressure’s on and the strain is beginning to show. Announcements in society magazines, a guest list that’s growing and growing, and fittings for the best bespoke tailoring in London, it’s all a far cry from Rory’s humble upbringing. Piece by piece, Rory and Jack’s dream of a simple winter wedding is fading fast.

Rory is Jack’s everything. Sweet, kind, and totally adorable, Rory is all Jack has ever wanted. And what Jack wants most of all is to give the man he loves the wedding day of his dreams — and that means taking a stand against the indomitable Diana.

***Warning: this story contains two gorgeous men, a mountain of mince pies and cupcakes, a punk rocker Christmas fairy called Bunty, and a snowy Christmas Wedding.***

 

Excerpt 

“Where are we going? The Tube station’s that way.” Rory nodded in the direction they were coming from.

“We’re not going home, or not just yet.”

“Oh? I thought we were going to decorate our living room, drink lots of advocaat, and then get naked on the rug.”

Jack threw back his head and laughed. “That sounds like a plan, but there’s something I want to do first.”

“You mean something is more important than naked advocaat?”

Jack just smiled in response. There wasn’t a lot that was more important than naked advocaat, but what they were about to do next just about topped it.

The tiny street would be so easy to miss in the messy and higgledy-piggledy maze that was the City of London. 

“Jack? What—?”

Jack pressed his fingertips to Rory’s lips and gazed into Rory’s questioning, confused eyes.

“Just go with me on this, okay?”

Jack pushed the door open, and he and Rory stepped into another time.

The shop was crammed with tall and narrow display cabinets, all of them holding a treasure of watches. Behind the counter, in a corner and almost hidden, sat a small, round, bald-headed man. A pair of glasses perched on the end of his nose, and another was wedged on the top of his head as he worked on the mechanism of a pocket watch, using what looked like a set of toy tools.

“Mr. De Lacy.” The man put aside his work, stood up and extended his hand to Jack.

“Mr. Hogarth. Let me introduce Rory Kincaid, my fiancé.”

Jack moved aside to allow Rory to shake Mr. Hogarth’s hand. Jack smiled; in a moment everything would be revealed.

“Let me bring your order.” Mr. Hogarth disappeared into a back room.

“Jack, I don’t understand. What’s going on?” 

Before Jack could answer, Mr. Hogarth returned bearing a small black box, which he handed over to Jack. 

“Please.” Mr. Hogarth gestured to a small table and a couple of chairs on the other side of the shop, in the only space not taken up with display cabinets, before he returned to his place once more behind the counter and took up his work as though he were alone.

“I want you to have this,” Jack said, opening the box as soon as he and Rory were seated. 

“What?” Rory gaped at the watch, displayed on a pad of black velvet. “But we agreed a strict ten-pound budget, just something silly this year. I haven’t—”

“No, it’s not a Christmas present.”

“Then what—? I don’t understand.”

Jack took the watch out of the box. Like his own, it was plain and unadorned. The black Roman numerals were stark against the white face; the casing was gold, deep and burnished.

“When I was twenty-one, my father presented me with a watch from this shop. He did the same for George,” Jack said, referring to his elder brother. “My father also had a watch on his twenty-first birthday, as did my grandfather, great-grandfather, and great-great-grandfather. The De Lacy men have had watches in one form or another from Hogarth’s since the late eighteenth century. All those watches came from here, from this very shop.” Jack glanced toward the counter, but Mr. Hogarth had gone and was now nowhere to be seen. 

“This isn’t a Christmas present, Ro. This is something every De Lacy man receives. And I wanted you to have one, too, because that’s what you’re on the point of becoming: a De Lacy man.” Jack’s lips lifted in a wry smile. “I didn’t know you when you turned twenty-one, although I wish I did. I’m just making up for lost time. On Christmas Eve, you’re going to take my name. I want you to be wearing this watch when you do.”

“Jack, I–I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything. Just accept it, along with the words I had engraved.”

Jack held the watch out. All his focus was on his fiancé, reading for the first time the words engraved not only on the watch but on Jack’s heart.

Love, always and forever.

Four simple words which said everything Jack held deep inside about the man he’d found huddled on his doorstep just two Christmases before.

 

 

About the Author 

I love all kinds of MM romance and gay fiction, but I especially like contemporary stories. Born and raised in London, the city is part of my DNA so I like to set many of my stories in and around present-day London, providing the perfect, metropolitan backdrop to the main action. I write at home, in the gym, in cafés —in fact I write any place I can find a good coffee! 

 

Social Media Links

Blog/Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter  |  Instagram  |  Newsletter Sign-up

 

 

Giveaway 

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

one of three ebook copies of A Christmas Wedding

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

 

New Release – In This Bed of Snowflakes We Lie by Sophia Soames #KindleUnlimited

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: In This Bed of Snowflakes We Lie

Author: Sophia Soames

Publisher: Self-published

Cover Artist: Miriam Latu

Release Date: November 14, 2019

Genre/s: Contemporary M/M Romance

Trope/s: Forced Proximity, Christmas, Family,

Themes: Christmas, family, coming out, University Dorm living, Norway, Scandinavia

No triggers or warnings. No age gap, University aged student MC’s.

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 62 891 words

It is a standalone story.

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Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link  

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

 

Love is supposed to be easy. You are supposed to find your person and fall in love, and then you hold each other and kiss and live happily ever after. 

Well, Erik has ended up in the wrong bloody love story. He is stuck in the one full of angst and worries and confusion and pain. Lots of pain. 

 

Blurb

Oskar Høiland hides from life. It just makes things easier that way, not having to face all the fears and drama of living. He especially hides from other people, because Oskar has grown up fearing the snide remarks and the quick glances that strip him of the tiny scraps of confidence he still has left. He is just going to keep existing. Work hard to complete his medical degree and perhaps watch a few more series on Netflix in peace and quiet over Christmas. 

Erik Nøst Hansen should be an almost fully-fledged adult. He should be able to sort out the mess that festers in his head and stop lying. It’s just hard. And it’s bloody terrifying to even acknowledge the thoughts that swirl around in his head at night when he can’t sleep. He also needs to figure out how to talk to the boy downstairs. The one with the golden curls and the crooked smile. The boy who is completely monopolising Erik’s messed-up heart. 

A story of falling in love and being brave. A Christmas tale with a difference, set in the university dorms of central Oslo, where lies are uncovered, snowflakes are falling all over the place, and beds are made to lie in. There is a slightly unconventional family. A mess of animal onesies. Too much food and a very Merry Christmas. 

 

Excerpt 

Oskar’s first instinct is to flee. Run. Hide somewhere until the thing in his bed has disappeared. He blinks. Shakes his head in disbelief and looks again. 

Nope. He’s still there. There is still a very-much-fast-asleep person in his bed, his breathing soft against Oskar’s pillow, and that ridiculous pink bandana is sliding down over his eyes. 

He moves carefully to get a closer look, then recoils back as he remembers. No clothes! He is stark naked in his own room, like a normal person would be. It’s just, this dude is there. Right there. On his bed.

Yes, he had left his door unlocked, but then that doesn’t mean any random person can just come in and decide to sleep in his bed? Does it? Especially when the random person is flat-out drunk. Oskar can smell the alcohol now, his body recoiling at the fumes escaping along with little bubbles of spit at the corner of the dude’s mouth. Beer-scented mouthfuls of air with every breath. Every little snore. 

He doesn’t know how he didn’t realise someone was here before. I mean, the dude is not exactly quiet, snuffling and snoring and smacking his lips together in his sleep. 

Oskar’s eardrums are still ringing from having his earphones on the highest volume, and the beats from upstairs are still going strong, but still, he should have noticed. How the fuck didn’t he notice?

There are a pair of threadbare joggers on the floor, which he pulls on, and the t-shirt on the floor looks clean enough, so he pulls it over his damp hair and tiptoes further up along the side of his bed to get a closer look. 

It’s definitely one of the guys from upstairs. The tall pretty one. The one with all the girlfriends. The one with the reputation.

Yes, Oskar listens. He might not speak much to the other students, but his hearing is good—well, it was until today, and he will sue if his hearing is damaged from this bloody party, starting with suing the pants off this dude that has crashed Oskar’s planned Netflix marathon—and he pays attention to the stories. The tall tales of weekend shenanigans. The obvious boasting and lies. And the things that might actually be true.

Like the whispers doing the rounds about this guy. The tall one with the messy dark-brown hair and full lips. Kisses like he means it. Great lay apparently. Can get any girl he wants. That’s what he has heard. Hangs around with the dark-haired guy with the black floppy fringe, and that lanky boy with the frizzy hair. Well, he probably hangs around with everyone. Always smiling and never alone. Never sitting on his own in the cafeteria like Oskar, hiding in the corner with his headphones on. 

No, this dude is always the centre of attention. Surrounded by people clinging to his every word. Laughing at his jokes. Staring adoringly at him as he throws his head back in laughter. 

Except this dude is now here. And Oskar hasn’t got a clue what to do.

He could go get Freddie, he supposes, and they could probably manhandle the dude out of the room. Dump him on the sofa for the night. He is quite sure the girls would approve, and in the morning, he would wake up and find this guy on the sofa making all the girls laugh, having charmed them into making him coffee and buttering his toast and spoon feeding him their secret imported stash of Swedish Treo hangover fizz, whilst placing tiny morsels of hot buttered toast on his tongue. 

He pushes that scene out of his head with a sigh. The boy is his problem. He is in Oskar’s bed. And if he doesn’t get him out of here, things will be shit awkward in the morning, he is sure of that. 

“Dude,” he whispers, and nudges the guy’s shoulder before he can stop himself. He should think this through, make some kind of plan. Maybe wake him up gently so he doesn’t scare the shit out of the poor guy, waking up and realising he has crashed in Oskar’s bed, instead of wherever he thought he was crashing.

 He probably took a wrong turn, thinking this was Madeleine’s room. Or Ingvild’s. Or one of the other girls. Maybe he thought he could get lucky by just throwing himself in some lucky girl’s bed. Just like that. Oskar wonders if people do that, just full-on go for it and shamelessly offer themselves like that. 

Oskar shudders at the thought. It’s a mistake whatever it is, and Oskar won’t let him get away with this. Not tonight. Not now. He doesn’t need the grief, or the inevitable shaming in the morning when this dude tells all his friends that the nerd downstairs tried to get him in the sack. Lies and raw laughter trying to make light of a situation that he knows will end badly, with Oskar being the butt of every joke. The one the girls will gossip about and point their fingers at. The one that came on to one of the beautiful people. One of their people. Where Oskar just doesn’t belong.

Because the boy is beautiful, even Oskar can see that. Soft long dark hair framing his face, freckles decorating his pale skin and those lips. Even his fucking profile is perfect, his straight nose burrowing into Oskar’s pillow. 

“Dude, come on! Wake up.” Oskar shakes his shoulder this time, but the guy is dead. Dead to the world. Not a hint of pretending to wake up. He just snores and burrows further into the pillow.

“YO. MATE!” This guy is no mate of his. Nor will they ever be, mates or whatever, but Oskar is shouting now. Desperate. He needs to get to bed. He needs an hour of some mindless American sitcom to calm him down. He needs to sleep. Please. 

He tries to pull the guy off the bed, grabbing the dude by the ankles only to realise the guy is still wearing shoes. Big clumsy boots with heels. Ridiculous. I mean who wears shit like that in the middle of winter? It’s not like December in Oslo is the place for something that wouldn’t look out of place in a Texas Rodeo. 

“Fuck,” he grits between his teeth. 

The sofa out in the main room is seriously uncomfortable. No one ever bothers to even  sit on it, and even if he considers sleeping there, the bleach fumes would make him retch before long. 

It’s not like he could go sleep in anyone else’s room. It’s just not the kind of thing he could do. Not his thing. Not that he is close enough to any of the others to warrant such a request. 

He could sleep on his own floor, he supposes, except that the dude is lying on top of his duvet. 

It takes a few good pulls, but finally the duvet gives way and the dude rolls over as Oskar drags the fabric from underneath his body. He almost bursts into laughter, because the dude is now on his back, mouth wide open and the bandana has slipped down covering his eyes and nose. He looks like a twat. 

A drunk snoring twat in ridiculous boots. 

Oskar is a medical student. Oskar fucking knows what can happen. He wouldn’t be a responsible human being if he didn’t ensure that his unwelcome roommate at least survives the night. 

The boots come off his feet to reveal socks underneath. Ridiculous socks with little reindeers and Santas that make Oskar swallow another inappropriate giggle. This isn’t funny. This isn’t funny at all.

He rolls the bandana up over the dude’s fringe, carefully removing it before tossing it aside, and straddles his body to try to roll him into the recovery position. He has done it several times in training, but always with willing perfectly conscious subjects underneath him. Never a half-dead comatose man breathing alcohol fumes at him, making him retch in disgust. 

It takes a few goes, and Oskar gets braver as the guy is definitely out for the count. He doesn’t wake up, even when Oskar knees him in the balls by mistake, trying to manhandle his shoulder over towards the mattress. But he is finally there, safely in position on his side with his hand supporting his chin, so any accidental vomiting won’t choke him to death and there is nothing restricting around his neck to hinder his breathing. His airway is open, and he is safe. In the middle of Oskar’s bed. 

Oskar wants to cry. He wants to bury his face in his hands and howl. Scream out in frustration. 

Instead, he covers the unconscious body in his warm duvet and switches off the light. Lets his own body slide in under the covers at the very edge of the bed, as far away as he can get. Oskar lies there, perched on the edge of the mattress, yet he can still feel the breath from the other man hitting the back of his neck. Soft puffs of air stroking the skin under his still-damp hair. 

He shudders. It’s hours until he finally falls asleep. Restless and terrified of what he might find next to him in the morning.

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About the Author 

Sophia Soames should be old enough to know better but has barely grown up. She has been known to fangirl over tv-shows, has fallen in and out of love with more popstars than she dares to remember, and has a ridiculously high-flying (un-)glamourous real-life job. 

Her long-suffering husband just laughs at her antics. Their children are feral. The Au Pair just sighs. 

She lives in a creaky old house in rural London, although her heart is still in Scandinavia. 

Discovering that the stories in her head make sense when written down has been part of the most hilarious midlife crisis ever and she hopes it may long continue.

Miriam Latu is a Norway based artist, specialising in hand-drawn pencil portraits. She works with old-school pen and paper, and more of her work can be found on Instagram @om_hundre_ar_er_allting. 

 

Also by Sophia Soames, with cover artwork by Miriam Latu

717 miles

717 miles Christmas

The Scandinavian Comfort Series

Little Harbour

Open Water

IN THIS BED OF SNOWFLAKES WE LIE

What If It All Goes Right? (Out Jan 2020) 

 

Come join my Facebook reader’s group 

Sophia Soames’ Little Harbour  

Find me on social media @sophiasoames on all platforms

Facebook: Sophia Soames  |  Twitter: @sophiasoames   | Instagram: @sophiasoames 

 

 

Giveaway 

717 miles – Christmas Special

A short novella to follow on from where the novel 717 miles left off.

This will be FREE to download from Amazon from November 14 -18.

Just follow the link and enjoy.

 Mybook.to/717milesChristmas

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

Please note that this is not a standalone story and

should be read after completing 717 miles

 

Add on Goodreads

BLURB

717 miles Christmas Special

I promised myself many years ago that I would never set foot in London again.
I promised. Adam promised. I said I wouldn’t. He said I would never have to.
Yet here we are again, and life has become quite surreal. This is us, a good few years later, older and wiser with more baggage than the baggage belt at Heathrow.

And now it is Christmas and Adam is working too much and I have far too much time to think about things that shouldn’t really matter. Or maybe they should?

717 miles Christmas Special is a short novella to follow on from 717 miles, the novel, and should not be read as a standalone.

 

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

 

Release Blitz – Full O’Festive Spirits by Zakarrie Clarke

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Full O’Festive Spirits

Author: Zakarrie Clarke

Publisher: Self-published

Genre/s: Contemporary romance

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length:  40 000 words

Release Date: December 16, 2018

Add on Goodreads 

 

Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

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Blurb

Gabriel is staggered, upon overhearing two old dears declare that only 21 shopping days remain ’til Christmas. He hadn’t even noticed that December had dawned, far too busy being grim ‘n’ grumpy to be bothered. This, after losing his job—again—leaving him too fed-up of enforced thriftiness to differentiate days that did not. Let alone recall the date on the calen— A thought that sends Gabriel scuttling off the bus, in a belated bid to secure his favourite part of the festive season…an advent calendar. If they have any left. Upon clattering into the nearest shop, he finds himself coshed by the most splendid sight he e’er did see. A Christmas Feast for the eyeballs so sublime, it seemed—for a hectic heartbeat—that they’d all come at once. As the latter was a feat so improbable in said company, they definitely had not.

Dylan is much dismayed by the ramshackle litter of limbs and belongings that trips into the off-license, halfway through his shift. It being way too early for the drunk and determinedly irritating to come staggering in. In the wake of arriving too late to audition for a role he’d set his heart on, Dylan is no mood to deal with a human hatstand—doe-eyed and demented—intent upon purchasing a bloody advent calendar. On the third of December. For himself. Strewth. Could fate have possibly dumped a less welcome portent of festivities doomed to disaster on the doorstep?  

 

Excerpt

Dylan’s trip down misery lane was rudely interrupted by the teeth-gritting jangle of the bell that heralded the entrance of each customer. Reason enough to want to bolt the bloody door to ensure that no one could set the damn thing off.

“Oh, bugger…”

Christ, no. It was way too early for the pissed-up and perennially irritating to start staggering in. Dylan glared at the ramshackle onslaught of limbs and belongings that clattered into the shop. This, with a godawful racket reminiscent of a one-man band, created by what appeared to be: one person, a single guitar, and some plastic bags. The latter were either full of saucepan lids, tambourines and stray cats…or, the customer could cause chaos in a broom cupboard. On his own. Neither of which boded well for the duration. He would no doubt browse for fifteen minutes, knock Dylan’s painstaking display of colour coordinated decorations off the shelf—then insist on arguing about fuck-all—before finally purchasing a cheap lighter, some Rizzla papers and a Snickers bar.  

Dylan had, clearly, been working in an off-license far too long. This had been true about an hour into his first shift, despite the fifteen percent staff reduction that had clinched the deal in the first place. Dylan watched, incredulous, as the litter of limbs and baggage rearranged itself into something that resembled a human figure. Albeit, a far too…extravagant one. Then, he lifted his head.  

How simple that sounded. The customer’s face had formerly been obscured by the brim of his hat; a battered black trilby, barely a shade darker than eyes as bottomless as they were huge. Framed by excessive eyelashes and skin so pale, he could have played Pierrot, sans make-up. A fact not helped by lips so wind-chapped, they looked kiss-bitten. Or, he’d earned enough to buy more than a packet of bloody Rizzla and a Snickers in the very recent past. If he hadn’t already blown it on his next fix. Get a grip. Who the hell would cart a guitar around with them, while out pulling punters? Punters, f’fucksakes?

“Hiya.” His little-boy-lost features lit up in a smile as startling as his voice; coming from a body comprised of far too many corners. Dylan had expected clipped cockney tones or a harsh estuary drawl. The ‘hiya’ had scarce classified as a word, it had been but a wisp of melody. This particular nugget of nonsense was followed by the belated awareness that Dylan was standing like a lemon, dumbstruck. Ensnared in the dark spotlight of a gaze akin to a steel-jaw trap…

 

About the Author

After moving to London at eighteen and flitting about for far too long, Zakarrie settled, as blissy as can be, by the sea. ’Twas here that her castaway dreams re-surfaced and she began to write; stories that are, in truth, better at being her than she’s ever been. Her one hope now is that someone, somewhere, will enjoy the misadventures of her miscreants as much as she adores writing them.

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Release Blitz – A Christmas Surprise by Kenna Grace

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: A Christmas Surprise

Author: Kenna Grace

Cover Artist: Ana J. Phoenix

Genre/s: M/M contemporary Christmas mpreg, second chance romance, mistaken identity

Length: 51 000 words

It is a standalone story. 

Release Date: December 5, 2018

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Blurb

An omega with a mistaken identity and an alpha set up on a blind date experience a Christmas miracle in this full-length steamy, mpreg, second chance romance novel.

Elliott

A string of bad relationships hasn’t made me the most positive person. If love taught me anything, it’s that it only lasts in movies and between the pages of sappy novels. A NYC subway station is the last place I expect to meet anyone, but when some charming alpha mistakes me for his blind date, I foolishly play along. It was only supposed to be a one-time thing, but Clay isn’t like other alphas. When I start falling for him, I know I need to come clean. Except the truth is exposed before I get the chance. I figure that’s the end of our story—until I find out I’m pregnant with his baby.

Clay

Elliott was nothing like how he was described, except in one regard—he was perfect. A failed marriage made me skeptical when I was told the omega was my perfect match. Sparks fly and I can’t deny the chemistry between us, but then the truth comes out. Elliott was lying. He wasn’t my blind date. Things come to a screeching halt when I need to figure out if I was falling for Elliott or the omega he was pretending to be. When I find out he’s pregnant with our baby, I want to give us a second chance and prove Christmas miracles really can come true.

Excerpt

Something about walking around bustling New York with a Christmas tree somehow seemed both crazy and yet perfectly normal. If it meant spending more time with Clay though, the decision was an easy one. “Deal.”

His eyes opened wide as he studied my face. “Are you sure? Cause I’m not joking,” he said suspiciously.

I cracked a smile. “I’m not going to let you look like an idiot by yourself.”

He suppressed a laugh. “Perfect, now we won’t be able to tell if the stares are at some idiot carrying a tree or at the cute, glowing omega walking by his side.”

I rolled my eyes, but I could feel the warmth radiating from my blushing cheeks. His flattery had me feeling like a child on Christmas. “Let’s pick one out, you cheeseball.”

Clay and I did a couple laps around the rows of fir trees until we found one that looked at least somewhat manageable to carry back.

One of the volunteers in an elf costume tied it up with some twine while Clay counted out a few bills. Because we’d spent over a certain amount, we also received a box of gourmet hot chocolate. I tossed the container into one of my bags while Clay struggled to figure out how to best carry a Christmas tree three city blocks.

Suddenly, my phone started to ring.

I pulled it from my pocket and read the caller ID. It was the hospital calling me back. I swiped to accept the call and brought the phone to my ear. “Hi?”

A voice spoke from the other end of the line, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I blocked my other ear with a finger. “Sorry, come again?”

I still wasn’t able to make out what they were asking; there were just too many things going on and people talking and laughing and cheering. “Sorry, one second.”

“Clay,” I said, getting his attention. I waved my phone around in front of me. “I have to take this,” I nodded my head over to an empty corner of the lot, “I’ll be right over there.”

He nodded and brought his focus back to the tree with a puzzled expression.

I weaved my way around running children and made my way over to the empty corner and spoke back into my phone. “Sorry about that,” I apologized. “Apparently Santa’s workshop isn’t the best place to take a call.”

A voice on the other end of the line let out a chuckle. “We’re just calling you back to schedule that ultrasound. Would you be able to make it in December 9th? That’s exactly one week from today. Say two o’clock.”

“Yeah, that works for me. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. Put in a good word to the big man in red for me.”

I laughed. “Will do. Take care.” Just as I ended the call and slid my phone back into my pocket, Clay came wobbling over with the tree hugged between his arms and peeking through the bristles to find his way.

He leaned it against the fence and brushed the stray needles off his pea coat. “Everything alright?”

I was so excited I was nearly shaking in my shoes. “Guess what?” I beamed.

His brows arched. “What?”

“Got the date for my next ultrasound!”

Clay’s face lit up like the Christmas lights illuminating all around us.

Overcome with joy, I practically leaped into his arms when I hugged him. It had been so long since we’d embraced, I had almost forgot how comfortable I felt in his arms.

I craned my neck and our eyes locked. Clay was smiling down at me like he knew something I didn’t. “What?” I chuckled. “Do I have something on my face?”

Clay replied without words and tilted his head to look upwards.

My gaze followed his until I saw what exactly it was that had him smiling. Hanging from a wooden beam a few feet above us was mistletoe.

Our eyes met again.

He ran his hand through my hair. “It’s bad luck not to,” he said, leaning in until his lips brushed against mine.

My breath shook and suddenly all the talking and laughing and cheering around us hushed away. Even if for only a moment.

I tasted his lips when he kissed me slow and he tasted passion when I kissed him fast. My stomach fluttered and the world began to spin and spin and spin until my eyes drifted shut and my knees felt weak and my head light. It was only a kiss. Not even our first kiss. But it was beautiful because it meant our last kiss wasn’t a last kiss.

 

About the Author

Kenna Grace is a small woman with a huge personality. By evening, she can be found writing, reading, and getting lost in her wild imagination. In her other life, she’s a behavioral analyst and devoted partner, but writing about men falling in love and their happily-ever-after is so much more exciting!

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Review Tour – Better Not Pout by Annabeth Albert

REVIEW TOUR

Title: Better Not Pout

Author: Annabeth Albert

Pages: 288

Genre: Contemporary Romance, Male/Male, Holiday

Imprint: Carina Press

On-sale Date: November 12, 2018 (ebook), November 27, 2018 (MMP)

Price: $4.99 (ebook), $8.99 USD (MMP)

Format: ebook, Mass Market Paperback (MMP)

ISBN: 9781488038686 (ebook), 9781335924841 (MMP)

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Blurb

One hard-nosed military police officer.

One overly enthusiastic elf.

One poorly timed snowstorm.

Is it a recipe for disaster? Or a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for holiday romance?

Teddy MacNally loves Christmas and everything that goes along with it. When he plays an elf for his charity’s events, he never expects to be paired with a Scrooge masquerading as Santa Claus. His new mission: make the holiday-hating soldier believe he was born to say ho-ho-ho.

Sergeant Major Nicholas Nowicki doesn’t do Santa, but he’s army to his blood. When his CO asks an unusual favor, Nick of course obliges. The elf to his Kris Kringle? Tempting. Too tempting—Nick’s only in town for another month, and Teddy’s too young, too cheerful and too nice for a one-night stand.

The slow, sexy make-out sessions while Teddy and Nick are alone and snowbound, though, feel like anything but a quick hookup. As a stress-free holiday fling turns into Christmas all year round, Teddy can’t imagine his life without Nick. And Nick’s days on the base may be coming to a close, but he doesn’t plan on leaving anything, or anyone, behind.

 

 

About the Author

Annabeth Albert grew up sneaking romance novels under the bed covers. Now, she devours all subgenres of romance out in the open—no flashlights required! When she’s not adding to her keeper shelf, she’s a multi-published Pacific Northwest romance writer. Emotionally complex, sexy, and funny stories are her favorites both to read and to write. Her critically acclaimed and fan-favorite LGBTQ romance series include the #OutOfUniform, #Gaymers, #PortlandHeat, #RainbowCove and #PerfectHarmony series.

To find out what she’s working on next and other fun extras, check out her website: annabethalbert.com or connect with Annabeth on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and Spotify! Also, be sure to sign up for her newsletter for free ficlets, bonus reads, and contests. The fan group, Annabeth’s Angels, on Facebook is also a great place for bonus content and exclusive contests.

 

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Release Blitz – A Kiss Before Christmas by A E Ryecart

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: A Kiss Before Christmas

Author:  A E Ryecart

Publisher: A E Ryecart

Cover Artist: Tammy Clark

Genre/s: Contemporary gay romance, Christmas story

Heat Rating:  2 flames

Length:  37,200 approx words

It is a standalone story.

Release Date: 15th November 2018

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Blurb

Christmas is looming and Jack De Lacy needs a solution to one hell of a fix.

Dumped by his boyfriend in favour of his best friend, Jack’s been busy bragging about the hot new man in his life.

A hot new man who doesn’t exist.

With an important function to attend where he’ll come face-to-face with his ex, Jack knows he’ll be a laughing stock when his boasts are exposed as nothing more than wishful thinking. He’s desperate but time, like his options, is running out.

Rory Kincaid is scared he won’t last another night sleeping rough on London’s frozen, snowbound streets. With all the homeless shelters full, Rory seeks refuge in the first empty doorway he stumbles across.

Finding Rory shivering in the sub-zero temperatures, Jack can no more send him away than kick a puppy out into the cold. A shower, shave and hot drink later, and the grubby street kid is transformed into a beautiful young man.

As the attraction between them grows, so does a plan that will get Jack out of the mess he’s in and give Rory a warm, safe home for Christmas. Sweet and adorable, Rory will make a great fake boyfriend for the holidays – the problem is, neither Jack nor Rory is sure where the make believe ends and the truth begins.

Warning: this 37k novella contains a camp Christmas tree, a drag queen Christmas fairy called Doris, way too many jugs of eggnog, a closet posh boy, and the sweetest Kiss Before Christmas ever.

Excerpt

Jack swung around. “Wait.”

The kid stopped and looked back over his shoulder, his body braced against the buffeting snow.

What am I doing? It was madness, but the feeling that he was kicking a puppy or leaving a kitten in a bag to die, weighed on Jack.

“You can come upstairs and have a have a cup of tea while you wait out the worst of the weather.” What the hell have I just done?

The kid shifted his weight from one already soaked foot to the other. “No, but thanks. I’ve caused you enough bother already. And you gave me some money – thank you. I’ll go—”

“I might be able to run to a sandwich as well.” What next? A bed for the night?

“I don’t know. . .”

“Well, make your mind up, and do it now. I’m not standing out here freezing my bollocks off for much longer. A cup of tea and a sandwich is the offer, and then you’re on your way. Take it or leave it.”

Jack turned and unlocked the door, the warmth from the hallway a welcome caress against his cold skin. It had been a rash offer but a good one on a night like this. Well, the kid had turned it down, so he’d have to take his chances on the streets.

“Yes. Please. If you’re sure?”

Jack looked over his shoulder. The wind had picked up, and huge snowflakes swirled around. Enough snow had already fallen to cover the black-and-white-tiled path, and it wouldn’t be long before there was a whole lot more. Jack jerked his head, and the boy retraced his steps, following Jack inside and up the stairs.

“No offence, but you really smell.” The words tumbled from Jack’s mouth, his nose wrinkling as he closed the door to his top-floor flat. The kid had only just walked over the threshold, but he was already stinking the place out. In the cold, outdoor air, Jack hadn’t smelled the tangy, ripe aroma but up close and in the warm. . . He sniffed and coughed as his throat closed up. Christ, it was horrible. He’d offered food and drink, but a shower was top of the list.

“Sorry, but I’ve run out of my usual cologne, so I’ve had to splash on Eau de Homeless.”

Jack froze, his arms half in, half out of his coat sleeves. He stared down at the stranger, the stinking, smelly stranger he’d let into his home. And what was the kid doing? Giving him lip. Which Jack knew he deserved. He carried on peeling off his coat and hung it on a hook on the wall. Yep, he’d deserved the comeback because he hadn’t been exactly tactful.

“Sorry. That was a bit – well, you know.” Jack glanced at the kid, but the brief flare of spirit had been doused, leaving him as cowering as he had been on the doorstep. “Look, I’ll sort you out a towel and some clean clothes. I’ve got some old clothes I was going to take to the charity shop, but you might as well have them. I’ll get you a spare razor, too.” Old enough for dark scruff to shadow his skin, Jack thought, so maybe not such a kid after all. Jack turned away, then stopped. A vital piece of information had been omitted.

“I’m Jack, by the way. What’s your name?”

“Rory.”

About the Author

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I love all kinds of MM romance and gay fiction, but I especially like contemporary stories.  Born and raised in London, the city is part of my DNA so I like to set many of my stories in and around present-day London, providing the perfect, metropolitan backdrop to the main action. I write at home, in the gym, in cafés – in fact any place I can find a good coffee!

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Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win one of 2 copies of the ebook of A Kiss Before Christmas.

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