The Reaper by Rae Scott

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: The Reaper

Author: Rae Scott

Publisher: Page Publishing

Release Date: November 3, 2022

Genre:  Mystery/Thriller/Crime

Tropes: Vigilante justice/ Victims no one will miss/ The one you least expect

Themes: Good vs Evil, Life or Death

Heat Rating: No heat

Length: 188 pages/ 60 000 words

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

Goodreads 

Buy Links

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK  |  B&N

Reap what you have sown. 

Blurb

Fear not those who are innocent, for I shall cause you no harm. I seek out only those who have yet to pay for their sins. Fear me if you have no remorse, for I am the Reaper, and I will ensure that you reap what you have sewn.

            The serial killer known as The Reaper is loose on the streets of Norfolk. Its victims have two things in common: They have each hurt a child but served little to no time in jail for it and none of them regret their actions. 

Detective Mel Tanner is close to retirement when she is assigned to investigate a murder that leads her in a hunt for the serial killer known as The Reaper. As a seasoned homicide detective of fifteen years, she now finds herself jaded and unfeeling to the atrocities that she has had to witness every day. 

When rookie Detective Nat Petrov lands her dream assignment, to work with the best Detective in Norfolk, she is thrown headfirst into The Reaper’s perverse sense of justice. The Detectives race against the clock as body after body turns up with the signature Grim Reaper tarot card, each life ended in a way specifically designed for the individual victim. Will the detectives be able to catch a twisted serial killer before time runs out or will The Reaper exact revenge in a way more personal than anyone could have ever fathomed? 

Excerpt

Michael watched with a sense of foreboding as the masked figure in the black cloak stood looking down at the various items on the table, fear of the unknown beginning to take hold of him. A thousand thoughts and images ran through his mind as he tried to work out the reason for why he was there on that table, but as hard as he tried, he couldn’t come up with a single explanation for his circumstances. He tried to figure out who his captor might be, but the only name he could come up with was the Grim Reaper, because that’s what his captor looked like. The Reaper came back and held a card in front of his face with its left hand. It was a three-by-five-inch tarot card, and on it was a picture of the Grim Reaper. Michael felt the color drain from his face. The Reaper pulled the card away and with its right hand, held up a laminated newspaper clipping for him to read. Michael Fitzpatrick received a six-month sentence for the beating death of his then-girlfriend’s six-year-old son. Questions on the mishandling of evidence dropping the charges from murder to child abuse.

His stomach dropped. “I did my time for that,” he said, his voice shaking with dread. Out of nowhere, his captor’s fist came swinging down hitting him square on his nose. The sound of his nose breaking resonated loudly in his ears. Instantly his eyes began to water, and blood began flowing down his throat. He tried to turn his head so he could spit the coppery-tasting substance from his mouth, but the Reaper held him still, forcing Michael to swallow the thick fluid. The Reaper slowly shook its head from side to side. Fear of repercussions should he move kept him still and motionless even when his captor went back to the table again.

When the Reaper returned, he was shown another news article. This one detailing all fifty-three injuries the boy had sustained by him during a drunken rage. While he read the article, tears spilled from Michael’s eyes in earnest as he finally realized that he wasn’t going to get out of this room alive. Again, his captor went to the table, returned the news article, and came back to look down at him with its unblinking gaze. It held the Grim Reaper’s card up to him again, only this time it showed him the message that had been written on the back of the card. Swallowing several times to clear the blood from throat, Michael read it out loud, “Fear not those who are innocent, for I shall cause you no harm. I seek out only those who have yet to pay for their sins. Fear me if you have no remorse, for I am the Reaper, and I will ensure that you reap what you have sewn.” Michael looked from the card to the Reaper, tears flowing down his cheeks as he begged for his life. “Please, no. I did my time for that. I would never have hurt him if I hadn’t been drunk. It wasn’t my fault. She knows how I am when I get drunk. She should have kept him quiet and away from me.”

The Reaper placed the card on Michael’s chest and shook its head. With its other hand, the Reaper slowly lifted up a ball-peen hammer, holding it in front of Michael’s face so he could see it, the intention clear.

“Please, no. I’m sorry,” Michael sobbed, frantically pulling against his bindings as panic began to take over.

The Reaper slowly turned and walked around the table until it was standing next to Michael’s right knee. As the hammer was steadily raised over its head, the Reaper looked down into Michael’s eyes.

He didn’t feel the wetness pooling around him as his bladder released nor the pain of the restraints as they cut into his already raw and bleeding skin. The only thing he felt was pure unadulterated terror. “No, please! You don’t understand!”

The Reaper tilted its head, the hammer still hovering high in the air over Michael’s knee and placed one black-gloved finger to its mouth. Shhh. It said as the hammer came down hard, shattering his kneecap.  

 About the Author

Born in New England, Rae Scott spent her childhood hiking, fishing, and enjoying the outdoor life inherent to the area. This love of adventure led her to travel the world in a quest to discover new and exciting things, feeding her thirst for knowledge and creativity that she now draws on for her books.  In between her travels, she can be found on her porch in Virginia with her family coming up with new ideas as to where their next adventure will take them.

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The Bond by Xavier Axelson #giveaway

BLOG TOUR

Book Title: The Bond (Elemental Book 1)

Author: Xavier Axelson

Publisher: JMS Books

Release Date: October 1, 2022

Genres: Contemporary M/M Horror/Dark Fantasy/Bisexual/Paranormal

Tropes: Vampire/stranger comes to town/strange things start to happen/good versus evil/transformations/magic/suspense/creepy beings/witches/goblins

Themes: Loyalty, forgiveness, obligation, acceptance commitment

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length: 155 459 words/392 pages

It is Book 1 in the series and ends with a HFN. There are unresolved plot points but it’s not necessarily a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links

JMS Books  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

In a small New England town, three men, each facing unthinkable horrors, must rely on their friendship to destroy an evil beyond imagination.

Blurb 

Four men are about to discover things are definitely not what they seem…including themselves.  Declan Makavoy, small town farmer and single father, finds out it’s not just his thumb that’s green.  Ivan Soresceau, a local reporter, who always plays with fire in life and love, is about to discover what it means to be burned.  Chester Silberglocke, the ailing but sage chiropractor, finds his death only the beginning of an atmospheric afterlife.  Vinny Pirelli, the local swimming champ may make waves inside and outside the pool but has no idea he is the last piece in a dangerous and life-changing puzzle. Seduction and unearthly occurrences are only the beginning in what proves to be a race against time as Declan, Ivan, Chester, and Vinny are pitted against a dark force beyond imagination, in the ultimate battle of good versus evil. 

Excerpt 

The wind carried the unpleasant smell of decay. In the heat of summer, the odor is nectar sweet, but in autumn, decay is unexpected. In the summer, it could be tomatoes left too long on the vine, fresh roadkill or sewage wafting up from the dank sidewalk grates. Autumn chilled the stench, offered it bite and acid. The hair on my neck stood on end. I dug my hands deeper into my pockets. 

Coming out of the tree-lined path leading to the fields reminded me of emerging from a dream. Overwrought and graphic, like an illustration in a bad comic, the scene unfolded block-by-block, piece-by-piece. The fields were barren, except where remains of gourds and pumpkins jutted from the earth like fevered skulls, things emerging to the cold dreary light. The distant pine trees lined the border of my property like sentries sent from a general to contain the scene. Beyond the trees, the forest appeared a black mass; empty and full at the same time. Perhaps Adam’s body—or Adam himself—waited, hidden in the woods.

They hadn’t found a body.

Hadn’t found…

A new but not unfamiliar wave of pain welled within my chest so I thought I’d burst. Adam was dead. Dead…How could he be…?

Chester turned toward me, his eyes wide. He pointed.

Antonia sat, facing him. She’d been playing house or school with her gourd-squash students. Her singsong contrasted with the fouled air, unnerving me.

Behind her, centered in the field, something either unaware or unconcerned with our presence was consuming the remaining pumpkins.

Some thing.

“Declan,” Chester breathed, “stay still.”

The stench coming from the field hit like a ton of putrid bricks. 

“Get her.” I heaved, trying to breathe through the stink. “I have to get her.” 

Chester restrained me with more strength than I thought he possessed. “She must stay still.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

Just then a huge crow dove and we watched as the creature reached with a massive clawed paw, grabbed the bird and crushed it. It then stuffed the bird into its mouth and made horrific bone-sucking sounds of pleasure.

Antonia smiled and called, “Daddy, have you seen the goblin?”

About the Author  

Xavier Axelson is a writer and columnist living in Los Angeles. Axelson’s work has been featured in various erotic and horror anthologies including Best Gay Erotica 2016 Volume 2, Best Gay Erotica 2015. 

Longer written works include “The Incident”, “Dutch’s Boy”, “The Birches”, “Earthly Concerns”, “Velvet,” and “Lily”.  

Author Links

Blog/Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter  |  Instagram

Giveaway 

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one of 5 ebooks from the author’s backlist.

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Trans Deus by Paul Van der Spiegel #giveaway

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: Trans Deus

Author: Paul Van der Spiegel

Publisher: Perceptions Press

Cover Artist: Paul Van der Spiegel

Release Date: August 11, 2020

Genre: LGBTQ – Christian

Tropes: Trans Christ in modern day England 

Themes: Trans Christ persecuted by the religious, the transphobes, the haters; closeted Peter, terrorist Judas, addict Andrew, humanist Thomas.

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length: 75 000 words/ 249 pages

It is part 1 of 4 Queer Gospels – each one is a different take.

Goodreads

Buy Links

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

Trans Christ born in a modern-day, transphobic England

Blurb 

The Word was with God. The Word was God. Nothing was created apart from the Word. The Logos became a trans woman and she dwelt amongst us, full of grace and truth.

Four men have their lives changed forever: Jude, the terrorist sent to kill the transgender Christ; Peter, the repressed gay man grasping after a religion of certainty; Andrew, the slave to his sexual appetites; and Tom, the ardent atheist with crippling financial problems.

From the towns and moors of northern England to the shadow of the cross in the City of London… the light shone in our darkness and the consumer, military technocracy comprehended it not.

Excerpt

Tom Bauer scanned the myriad titles in the Selfish Help, Mind n’ Body, Religion, and Pop Psychology subcategories, publications propped and penny-stacked on white MDF shelves.

Pop Psychology? What’s the world coming to? Tom thought. What he wanted was Death Metal Psychology, Hip Hop Head-Help, Roland TB 303 Counselling: anything but fluff and bluff. He started to laugh, at book shops, at life, at himself for being such a useless sack of shit. How have I ended up here? he demanded of existence, desperate for a fix of some arsehole’s fake positivity? 

The woman stood next to him reading the inside cover of The Secret slid it back onto the shelf, then hurried away.

The man who didn’t believe in belief pulled a volume from the packed display and examined the recommended retail selling price printed beneath the barcode—the book was the same price as a leg of lamb, as three large chickens. How the fuck can I justify spending that? he thought.

There was enough money to last another couple of months. His personal account was overdrawn, as was the joint account. There was always the credit card and the emergency second credit card, the one that Kristin didn’t know about. The feeling of being overwhelmed, of drowning, washed over him. Tom was scared: scared that they could lose their house, scared that what had been certain, mundane, predictable was now fuzzy and nebulous.

He picked out a copy of the Selfish Help bestseller I can make you Bulletproof and tried to read the introduction, but the words expanded and went blurry against the paper. Kristin stepping up her working hours to full-time helped, but it wasn’t anywhere near enough to cover the shortfall in his wages: the choice was now which bills had to be paid. 

Tom knew that he was not on his own: across the Public Sector thousands of people were being let go, especially, it seemed, in the north of England. Every suitable vacancy had hundreds, thousands, of applicants. His mind flicked to the visit he had made to the Didsbury Job Centre that morning: there was nothing, not unless he wanted to be an amusement park squirrel on minimum wage. He had asked the stony-faced Employment Agency manager whether a drug habit was a mandatory requirement for the role. 

Some people have no sense of humour, he reminded himself.

Once he had been on an upward trajectory within society. Now, Tom visualised his family falling into the abyss of poverty.

Tom pushed I can make you Bulletproof with its free hypnosis CD back into the shelf. He stared at the rows of crack-lit books, at the dope publications, at the trash written by authors selling glass pipes and rocks to the vulnerable, pushers who peddled badly cut gear to existential junkies. Bluffers and bullshitters, he thought, the lot of youAnd yet, I want to buy your product, get high, face the inevitable come down, buy the sequel. The thought compounded his sense of despair. 

That was when Dave Lucas and Bob Nielson from the Salford Health Trust Planning Department strode past the end of the aisle and took their seats in the coffee bar. Tom had forgotten the two spreadsheet goons read manga and graphic novels for free during their lunchbreak. The last thing he needed was Dave—the Lurch lookalike in his X Files T-shirt—and Bob—his skinny anaemic monosyllabic sidekick—asking him how he was. And he certainly didn’t want to hear how things were going back at the office, didn’t want to see that “you-poor-bastard” smile, or, even worse, the sparkle of glee in the eyes of those spared the executioner’s axe. In Tom’s considered viewpoint, anyone who still believed in “love for your neighbour” need only set up a corporate redundancy programme to see the reality of the human: fuck thy neighbour lest thou too get fucked.

Bob Nielson—a sadistic un-helpful prick in Tom’s opinion—was the man widely suspected of being the elusive Phantom Logger, that desperado of the digestive system who delighted in cooking up foot-long turds and depositing them in the men’s third-floor toilets and leaving without flushing. A closed toilet bowl lid was a sure sign that Nessie was back in town. Neilson had been spotted giggling outside Trap One just before one particularly unpleasant discovery. Maybe Bob n’ Dave took it in turns, Tom considered, competing in their own ghastly gastrointestinal game.

How had those two morons survived whilst he’d been cast aside? 

He needed to escape the book shop ASA-fucking-P. Tom knew that if he had to engage in any form of communication with Beavis and Butthead, he was liable to murder one, or both, of them; bash their heads in with a British Bake Off cookery brick. 

Option One was to hide in the stinking toilets for an hour like a junkie. Screw that, Tom decided, which left him with Option Two. 

Option Two was printed on the flyer that he had been given by a smartly-dressed woman outside Boots the Chemist on Market Street, a piece of paper that announced Manchester Cathedral were running a lunchtime programme of speakers with that day’s febrile attempt entitled, “The Myth of Eden—a new approach to Genesis.” Having someone attempt to defend the Great Book of Fairy Tales enraged and fascinated Tom at the same time. 

He decided that facing down a representative of a misogynistic, homophobic, corrupt organisation staffed by paedophile pensioners would take his mind off his financial woes, even if only for a short time. Tom wondered if he could get thrown out of church for heckling. Watch out all you bishops and kings, he thought, the Pale Rider is at your gate

He paid for a copy of The Times at the self-scanning machine, extended it to its full height, hid his head behind the newspaper, and strode through the main door. Once he was on Deansgate, he stuck his tongue out at Dave and Bob through the window. The two men didn’t notice, but an old man drinking a latte from a tall glass stared at him in surprise. 

It took two minutes for Tom to walk to his favourite place in the whole world, the John Rylands library. Tom loved everything about the building—the décor, the stillness and, most of all, the collection of ancient writings, works that covered every aspect of the human experience across three millennia: legal, medical, science, and the history of tribes and lost nations. He could spend his entire life in this one library and still only scratch the surface of the knowledge within. 

Plus, it was free admission.

Through the glass entrance, through the gift shop and café, up the modern staircase, past the Italian tourists, then into the red-stone vaulted cloisters, and up the stone staircase to the third floor where Thomas reverently entered the Reading Room. There, he was greeted by old friends: Luther, Milton, Shakespeare, Goethe, and Calvin, evidently no girls were allowed in Enriqueta Ryland’s library, apart from the lady herself. Tom sat at the mahogany table beneath the statue of Gibbon. Trusting in the presence of this enemy of Faith he read the newspaper, searching all the while for the one-liner that would transform his life.

Tom finished the easy, then started the medium difficulty, Sudoku puzzle. Thirty minutes later, he had ground to a frustrating halt. Checking his watch, he noticed he was late for the Genesis gig at God’s gaff. He had a choice to make—sack off scripture or go and put the righteous in their rightful place. Still holding the newspaper, Tom legged it from the library, dove down Deansgate, veered along Victoria, and arrived, gasping for breath, at the Cathedral doors. 

The presentation in the Saviour Chapel had already begun and all the black metal chairs had been taken. Tom edged right and stood, leaning against the cold stone wall. 

A blonde woman in jeans and a blue t-shirt prowled the front of the chapel. “Clothes are made from the cotton plant,” she said to her audience, “from animal hide, from nylon that is made from oil found under the seabed. Clothes are human constructs of naturally occurring materials. Gravity is a physical law, but our certainty that the universe is a matter machine is a human construct, a metaphor. Even when we are given fact, we fashion it into meaning to wear about our person.” 

“Amen,” a man in front of Tom said.

“For fuck’s sake,” Tom muttered, shaking his head, realisation dawning on him that he had made a dreadful mistake. 

“Our certainties adjust during our lifetime,” the woman said, “new knowledge and different learning become more important, people we love die, friends change, our pets grow old and die, the world around us changes, new roads are built, and our favourite breakfast cereal has a packaging redesign.”

To his left was a disabled man in a wheelchair—twisted limbs, twisted face, thick oversized ears, and jam-jar spectacles. Tom averted his gaze. Poor sod, he thought. It would have been better for him, for his family, for society, if he’d never been born.

“That which is our reality, our certainty, is but a metaphor. It is unreal in the sense that it is a construct of a construct. All our certainties are torn down at our death. We arrive at check-in stark naked and shivering, belonging to no culture and belonging to all. Stripped of all that we have ever wrapped around ourselves, what is left?”

You’re shit-boring, love, Tom thought. Wish I hadn’t come now. Behind the altar, a huge red curtain hung from the roof. Tom was struck by how much the church resembled the 2-3-74 temple in Ultimate Negation 2—the first-person shooter game that had used a digitised version of the building as the backdrop for all-out war between the remnants of humanity and hordes of gun-toting alien invaders. The Church authorities had claimed on the TV news that their Cathedral was a “space for grace,” and the Japanese corporation who had produced the game had violated this sacred principle. Tom had never heard anything so stupid in all his life: most city-centre tourist attractions would give their right arm for that kind of publicity.

About the Author 

I am the author of Trans Deus, 7 Minutes, Parably Not, and A Particular Friendship. My stories are about the intersection of faith and sexuality. I am a William Blake obsessive, and I’m working on new books with Blake’s themes – sex and gender, revelation and rebellion – at the heart of the narrative.

Author Links

Blog   |   Twitter

Giveaway 

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

one of two paperback copies of Trans Deus

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Don’t Hold Back (Chasing Gold Book 2) by Colette Davison #kindleunlimited #giveaway

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Don’t Hold Back (Chasing Gold Book 2)

Author and Publisher: Colette Davison

Cover Artist: Colette Davison

Release Date: July 26, 2022

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance

Tropes: Rivals to lovers, grumpy and sunshine, slow burn, hurt/comfort

Themes: Winning isn’t everything, learning to love yourself

Heat Rating:  3 flames

Length:  93,000 words

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

Goodreads

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

Can rivals gain Olympic glory and love?

Blurb

Garret has spent years training in gymnastics, but the pressure has taken its toll. Despite qualifying for the Olympics, failing to medal at the World Championships is all he can think about.

Anger is taking control and strangling his ability to focus on training, when his main rival, Team USA gymnast, Ryder Anderson, arrives at the gym to train alongside him.

Garrett wants to hate Ryder, but he can’t ignore his rival’s sunshine personality and handsome looks. Discovering Ryder is fighting a battle against himself, Garrett’s anger turns to admiration and then love. 

Dating his rival isn’t against the rules, but that doesn’t make it a good idea. Can they make a relationship work despite the pressure of the Olympics, or will they crack under the strain?

Don’t Hold Back is an M/M sports romance with a grumpy gymnast who falls for his sunshiny rival. It has a slow-burn relationship and some hurt/comfort.

Trigger warnings: Don’t Hold Back features a character who has anorexia.

Excerpt

“Ryder.” Lennie waved him across. “Good work. I’ve got two options for you.”

Ryder raised his eyebrows as he waited. From the look on Lennie’s face, he wasn’t sure he’d like either of them.

“You could go to Boulder and train alongside David Marshall.”

David was a two-time Olympian.

“Isn’t he trained by Isaiah Hobbs these days?” Ryder asked, trying hard not to scowl.

“Yes.”

“That’s not really an option, then is it?”

“Hobbs said he’d have you.”

Ryder shook his head and half turned away. “I don’t particularly care.”

“I didn’t think you’d go for it. But Boulder’s closer to home than my next suggestion.”

“There’s not much farther away than that.”

“The other option is to come with me.”

“To England?”

Lennie nodded. “I’ve called in a favour at my old gym in Leeds. They’d be happy to have us. We could train around visiting hours. They’re pretty prescriptive. You’d get more training hours in if you went to Boulder.”

“I’d rather take the week off than train under Isaiah again.” He folded his arms and dipped his chin. “England, huh? I’ve always wanted to see Buckingham Palace.”

Lennie laughed. “Leeds and London aren’t exactly next door.”

“Oh.”

“Seriously, what do you think?”

Ryder drew in a breath. “Travelling’s always harder than being home, but I’d rather train with you in England than with Isaiah. But only if you’re sure.”

“I am. We can stay at my parents’ house. Dad won’t mind if you take over the kitchen. Or if you prefer, we can rent somewhere.”

“Sounds good.” It was easy to say, less easy to feel.

Ryder always felt anxious about travelling, especially when it meant staying somewhere else for any length of time. But travelling was unavoidable at his level of gymnastics, so he dealt with it.

“You’re sure?”

Ryder smiled and nodded. He wouldn’t train under Isaiah again. He couldn’t.

“You won’t be the only Olympian training at the gym we’ll be using,” Lennie said.

“Oh?”

“Two members of the British team train there. Reece Matthews and Garrett Kidd.”

“They’re great gymnasts.”

“Yes.”

Ryder laughed. “Garrett’s the handsome scowling one, right?”

Lennie gave him a stern look.

“What? He is handsome, and he was very scowly at Worlds when I went to congratulate him.”

“You beat him.”

“So?”

Lennie rolled his eyes. “He probably thought you were rubbing your win in his face.”

“Me? Nah. Why would I do that?”

Lennie raised an eyebrow.

“I barely beat him in the all-around final. It was by point four or something.”

“Point two.”

“Oh. Even closer than I thought.” Ryder shrugged. “Either one of us could have won on the day. I was just luckier. See? Now I’m looking forward to a trip to England.”

Lennie shook his head and sighed. “Let’s see your floor routine again.”

Ryder grinned. “On it.”

About the Author

Colette’s personal love story began at university, where she met her future husband. An evening of flirting, in the shadow of Lancaster castle, eventually led to a fairytale wedding. She’s enjoying her own ‘happy ever after’ in the north of England with her husband, two beautiful children and her writing.

Social Media Links

Blog/Website  |   Facebook Page   |  Facebook Group: Colette’s Cosy Corner

BookBub   |   Twitter  |   Goodreads  |  Instagram: @colettedavison

Mailing List  |   Newsletter Sign-Up

Giveaway 

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win a $10 Amazon Gift Card

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Naughty by Nature: A Gay Erotica Anthology #giveaway

BLOG TOUR

Book Title: Naughty by Nature: A Gay Erotica Anthology

Cover Artist: Samantha Santana, Amai Designs

Release Date: July 1, 2022

Genre: M/M erotica short stories

Trope: Outdoor sex

Themes: Coming out, forgiveness

Heat Rating:  5 flames  

Length: 75 000 words/314 pages 

Goodreads

Buy Links

Universal Link  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

Boy meets boy… and nature takes its course!

Blurb 

From strangers in the night to happy couples looking for a little spice, Naughty by Nature has the story for you. Each short story features steamy adult encounters in the great outdoors, not to mention a delicious variety of kinks. After all, roughing it shouldn’t have to mean giving up all our creature comforts that bring… pleasure.

 So grab your sleeping bag and get back to nature in all the best ways. With a total of eleven stories by some of your favorite MM Romance authors, you’re sure to find something to have you howling at the moon in no time!

Featuring stories by:

Abigail Kade

Charity Parkerson

C.J. Vincent

Elizabeth Silver

Evie Hampton

Gia Reaves

Julia Talbot

Lynn Van Dorn

Marie Sinclair

Pandora Pine

Shane K. Morton

All author links

https://linktr.ee/nbnauthors

Giveaway

Enter the Rafflecopter giveaway for a chance to win

a $50 Amazon gift card

or

a $10 Amazon gift card for 2 runners-up

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Cover Reveal – Poor Rich Boys by Yolanda Olson & Ally Vance

COVER REVEAL

Book Title: Poor Rich Boys

Authors: Yolanda Olson & Ally Vance

Cover Artist: Black Widow Designs

Release Date: June 30, 2022

Genres: Dark M/M Romance

Tropes: Forbidden love (step-brothers)

Themes: Enemies to lovers

Heat Rating:  3 – 4 flames

When love and hate collide

Blurb 

Ten years ago we became family.

He’s tormented me ever since.

They both have…

Our parents may have fallen in love, but there’s no love lost between us.

Even though I know he hates me, I think he hates that he wants me more than anything else.

And what he doesn’t know, is that I think I want him too.

About the Authors

Yolanda Olson is a USA Today Bestselling and award-winning author. Born and raised in Bridgeport, CT where she currently resides, she usually spends her time watching her favorite channel, Investigation Discovery. Occasionally, she takes a break to write books and test the limits of her mind. Also an avid horror movie fan, she likes to incorporate dark elements into the majority of her books.

Ally Vance is an International Bestselling Author who writes in the Dark Romance & Horror genres. Ally has been writing since she was a teenager, and it had been a long-time dream of hers to finally become a published author. Ally lives in Kent, in the United Kingdom, with her husband, son, and their two crazy kitties; Kian and Declan.

Social Media Links

Yolanda Olson  | Ally Vance

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The Beautiful Moment by Kristoffer Gair

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: The Beautiful Moment

Author and Publisher: Kristoffer Gair

Cover Artist: Kris Norris

Release Date: May 31, 2022

Genre: Contemporary Paranormal M/M Romance 

Tropes: Destined to be together

Themes: Grief, healing, true love

Heat Rating: 2 – 3 flames

Length: 76 000 words/366 pages

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

Goodreads

Buy Links

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK  |  Smashwords

Destiny offers the possibility of love and, for Wesley, the one thing that has eluded him his entire life: a beautiful moment.

Blurb

The decade from hell. 

First, Wesley Traylor lost his father and grandmother, then COVID took his mother. His sole remaining family member will stop at nothing to steal his inheritance. In desperation, Wesley escapes to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, where no one knows him and he can exist without fear of his uncle’s brutality.

Circumstances force Wesley to the emergency room and face to face with the beguiling Dr. Clark Matsuda. The last thing Wesley needs—between dealing with strange occurrences at his new house and emergency surgery—is a doctor who’s made it his personal mission to get to know Wesley.

Destiny offers the possibility of love and, for Wesley, the one thing that has eluded him his entire life: a beautiful moment.

Excerpt

Stephen gestured for a nurse to come back in. “Let’s talk out here.” He pulled Clark out into the hall. “No idea if it’s abuse, but his records might give us some insight, which is why I wondered if he brought them. Some of the classic behavioral signs are there; withdrawn, not the most charming when you talk to him and dig too deeply, guarded, and no contacts, except for an emergency contact, who happens to be a lawyer.”

“Also traits of someone who might be in trouble with the police.” Clark hated to admit it, but there was always that possibility. Wesley didn’t strike him as a criminal, though. Not at all, and that was Clark’s gut doing the talking.

“That crossed my mind,” Stephen agreed.

“Are you going to ask a friend of yours at the local Police Department to look him up?”

“No.” Stephen shook his head. “The reason for that is the burn marks on Mister Traylor’s feet. Like I said, I’m guessing they’re from childhood, so I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt and leaning more towards abuse. If it is abuse and someone is looking for him, any check my friend does will be officially logged, and it’s possible the wrong eyes could see the inquiry, and the location.”

Clark mulled the situation over. “I’ll see about getting him into the office, and getting permission to have his records sent here.” If nothing else, the records would be a start. Unless, of course, someone was monitoring to see if his doctor sent those records to a new location. Stranger things had happened, and if someone wanted to stalk or locate someone else, it’d be a logical strategy.

“Be careful with that, okay?” Stephen warned. “We have no idea what his story is, and it may not be something we want to get involved in, or even can get involved in. There was enough drama around here during COVID. You had some complications with the fallout of that yourself. Let’s not invite something else if we can avoid it. Plus, it’s probably not any of our business, or what we’re thinking it might be.”

I’ve had Dilaudid before, and morphine.

Why did those words keep going through Clark’s mind? Maybe Wesley’s story was exactly what they thought.

“He’s probably not going to give me permission anyway.” Clark thought back to his conversations with Wesley and cringed. Had he actually offered to bring the patient a bottle of wine after he recovered? Who does that? Someone who babbles when he’s taken by surprise. “I don’t think I made the best first impression. Am pretty sure he’s not the least bit fond of me.”

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” the nurse piped up from inside the surgical room. “You sure opened your eyes a whole lot sooner than I thought you would. Let’s get you wheeled into recovery.”

He woke up sooner because he didn’t want to go under.

Wesley must have used every bit of his willpower to open his eyes as soon as possible, even if he wouldn’t remember it because of the anesthesia. Or maybe it was fear. Fear could be a powerful motivator.

Clark heard the nurse adjust the pedals on the bottom of the gurney and unlock the wheels in order to move Wesley into the recovery area. He and Stephen stood to the side as the nurse wheeled Wesley out of the operating room and into the hall.

“Let me know if you find anything out, Clark,” Stephen commented, watching their patient go by.

Clark?” Wesley turned his head slowly towards them, stared at the two doctors, or at least tried to. The poor man could barely focus. Wesley grinned, clearly still somewhat loopy from the anesthesia. “Yerr names is Clark?” he slurred. “What parents names their hot son Clarks?”

Stephen started laughing, reached out and put his arm around Clark. “Not fond of you? It sounds to me like he likes you just fine. You may even have an admirer.”

Clark felt his cheeks heat as blood rushed to his face. It looked like he’d have to get that bottle of wine now after all. That was, if he ever wanted to know a little bit more about how Wesley received those scars.

It may be like Stephen said. It may not be any of my business. 

What had Wesley said? You like my eyes. They hated me for them, but not you.

Who hated him? Who hates someone enough to burn the bottoms of their feet, or leave scars on their back, arms, and forehead? Just what the hell had he been through?

I’ve had Dilaudid before, and morphine.

Clark bet he had.

And I want to know why.

About the Author 

Kristoffer Gair grew up in Fraser, MI and is a graduate of Grand Valley State University. He is the author of 8 novels—some written under the pseudonum Kage Alan—been a part of 6 anthologies, and currently lives in a suburb of Detroit.

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Playing for Keeps by Beth Bolden #kindleunlimited #giveaway

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Playing for Keeps

Author and Publisher: Beth Bolden

Cover Artist: Cate Ashwood Designs

Release Date: May 11, 2022

 Genres: Gay contemporary sports romance

Tropes: Forbidden love, age gap, player/coach’s son

Themes: Overcoming fear, positive change, growing trust

Heat Rating: 4 flames     

Length: 85 000 words

It’s the first book in a new series

Goodreads

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link  |  Amazon US   |  Amazon UK 

Blurb

Sebastian Howard is the best damn cornerback in the NFL.

Or at least he was.

Age and injuries have taken a toll, and while most people have written him off, Sebastian isn’t ready to acknowledge that at only thirty-two, he’s already in the twilight of his career.

He signs with the Miami Piranhas intending to prove everyone wrong.

Only to realize that the head coach’s son, out-and-proud Beau Dawson, doesn’t believe he can.

Beau is infuriating but brilliant, and when he offers to help him on the field, Sebastian wants to say yes, but there’s one thing stopping him: the unexpected, inconvenient, and all-consuming crush he doesn’t want to have on Beau.

But Beau isn’t interested in playing it safe, with football or with anything else, and soon they’re embroiled in a hot—and secret—affair that would finish Sebastian’s career if Coach Dawson found out.

As Sebastian falls harder for Beau, he begins to realize that actually the worst thing in the world isn’t getting benched, but losing the man he loves.

Excerpt 

The bartender set a new round of drinks in front of them.

“I shouldn’t,” Beau said.

“Why not?”

Because if I have another drink, I’m going to think it’s a really, really good idea to have sex with you, and it’s not.

Sebastian broke into laughter then, and Beau realized, humiliation flushing his cheeks, that he’d said that out loud.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have another one,” Sebastian said, still chuckling as he swirled the straw in his own drink. But then he shot him a speculative glance, and Beau realized he wasn’t the only one thinking about it.

Sebastian had been checking him out all night.

Sebastian had almost kissed him twice, even when he was pissed as hell at him.

“Is that why you thought I manipulated you?” Beau asked before he could stop himself.

You’re the worst. The absolute fucking worst. You’re supposed to be flirting with the super-hot guy you haven’t been able to stop thinking about since he showed at camp, and instead, you’re bringing up that he hates you. A+ work, Beau. Really brilliant. You must be a genius.

At least, Beau thought as Sebastian continued to stare and swirl his drink, he hadn’t said any of that out loud.

Thank God for small miracles.

“Naw,” Sebastian finally said, another glimmer of a smile emerging on his handsome face. “You tried your level best not to flirt with me. It’s not your fault you trying to be all brilliant and professional about it made me hot.”

“No?” Beau squeaked.

Sebastian leaned in, and Beau could smell him again. Lavender and something darker and richer, and he wanted to lick up the neck that the open collar of his white button-down shirt had exposed and taste it, too. Wanted to trace the tattoo peeking out of his collar with his tongue.

Maybe he really shouldn’t have another drink.

Except . . . he could sleep with Sebastian. That wasn’t off-limits. But if they made it a habit, it would inevitably spill into the locker room, and then onto the field, and that was the one hard and fast rule his father had given him.

And he was going to want it to be a habit. They hadn’t even kissed, and Beau already knew it, as easy as breathing.

No, he should really keep his hands in his lap, and his drink un-drunk, but then Sebastian’s eyes practically sparkled with the dare of it and he leaned in another fraction of an inch.

“Don’t you want to know how hot it made me?” Sebastian crooned in that dirty, sexy voice of his, all low and enticing, and Beau lost the fight with himself.

He reached out and laid his hand on Sebastian’s thigh. His hard, muscular thigh, hot beneath the light wool of his slacks. He’d already removed his jacket, and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing those rippling forearms that had taken up residence in too many of Beau’s fantasies already.

He swallowed hard. But didn’t move his hand either.

“I think you do,” Sebastian said lowly.

About the Author 

A lifelong Pacific Northwester, Beth Bolden has just recently moved to North Carolina with her supportive husband. Beth still believes in Keeping Portland Weird, and intends to be just as weird in Raleigh.

Beth has been writing practically since she learned the alphabet. Unfortunately, her first foray into novel writing, titled Big Bear with Sparkly Earrings, wasn’t a bestseller, but hope springs eternal. She’s published twenty-three novels and seven novellas.

Author Links

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Cover Reveal – The Last Beginning by Abrianna Denae

COVER REVEAL

Book Title: The Last Beginning

Author: Abrianna Denae

Publisher: Self-published 

Cover Artist: Designs by Morningstar

Release Date: April 5, 2022

Genre/s: Contemporary M/M Romance 

Trope/s: Friends to lovers, hurt/comfort

Heat Rating: 3 flames     

Length: 61 000 words/210 pages

It is a standalone story in a new series and does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Pre-Order Link

Universal Amazon link  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

Blurb

“Nobody tells you how one moment, one decision, can change the course of your entire life.” 

Kit Briar is starting over. At thirty-three, he thought he had his life planned out, but a devastating revelation sends him back to his hometown, desperate to make a life for himself and his son. 

“Sometimes, a single kiss can lead a person down a road they never expected.”

Lawson Craig never meant to fall in love with his hot new neighbor, his life’s complicated enough. Except Kit and his young son fulfill a void he did know he had. The more he tries to fight against the mutual attraction, the harder it is to stay away. 

“If it came down to it, I’d let him go. I’d let him go because he deserves someone so much better than me.” 

Lawson and Kit find themselves in a whirlwind romance. They fall hard and fast, but every choice comes with consequences and neither of them are prepared for what happens when their blissful bubble pops. They’ll have to learn to trust in each other and what they’re trying to build in order to get the happy ending they’ve both always wanted. When every road seems to lead to heartbreak, how will they ever find forever? 

Excerpt

We lean back against the counter and talk about random things for a while. It’s nice. I have some friends but no one I hang out with regularly. I don’t want to get ahead of myself, this could be just a one time thing, but I like the vibe Kit has, I’m hoping he likes mine too.

“You said you’re from the area?” I ask after a lapse in conversation.

Kit nods, “Yeah, my family all still live close. My siblings helped me move in today.”

“How many siblings do you have?”

He smiles a little, “Two sisters and two brothers. I’m the baby of the family and they all treat me that way. Never mind that I’m a grown ass man.”

“I think siblings are supposed to do that. I’m one of two. I have an older brother, we’re close since neither of us talk to our parents anymore. What about you?”

“I’m pretty close to all my siblings. It’s just my dad. Mom passed away when I was eight.”

“Wow. Five kids for one person, did he ever remarry?”

“No. He dated someone for a long time, but they broke up about five years ago. He’s gone on dates since but says he’s too old for anything serious.”

I scoff. “I don’t think love cares how old you are.”

Kit smiles at me and I ignore the way my heart trips over itself. “That’s what my sisters say, but I think he’s content. He has us and his grandkids. He’s enjoying his life.”

“Can’t say I blame him. I’d probably be the same.”

Kit looks at me, his dark brown eyes assessing, “Yeah? Believe in love for everyone but yourself?”

“Ehh,” I make a seesaw motion with my hand. “Yes and no. Would I like to have that one person I spend the rest of my life with, knowing that they’re it for me? Yes, I think most people want that. Do I think it’ll happen?” I shrug, “It’s complicated.”

“Trust me,” Kit sighs, “I know all about complications.”

Is it me or are we closer than before? My arm brushes his and I try not to react like a fucking teenager with their first crush. It’s ridiculous really, the things I feel for this man that I’ve known an hour.

“Tell me about the neighborhood?” He asks, breaking into my thoughts. “You said the neighbor on your other side hates you?”

I sigh and ignore how fucking close his mouth suddenly is to mine. We’re almost the same height, it would be nothing to lean forward and kiss him.

“Uh yeah, she’s a total bitch. I mean, maybe. I think it’s just me. She’s older, in her fifties I’d say. I try to be nice and do things like mow her yard and take her garbage cans out, things like that. She glares at me and never shows any appreciation. I can’t tell if she really hates me or if she is just a really sour person, you know?

“When I first moved in I made cookies, brownies, and muffins for her, the previous owners of this house, and the people across the street from me. She’s the only one who refused to take anything from me. Which, I get, it was kinda weird to have this stranger show up with a bunch of baked goods, but you’d have thought I offered up straight poison the way she acted.”

“She doesn’t know what she’s missing. More for me.” Kit smiles and I can’t help but smile as well.

“You’ll have to come into the bakery some time, I’ll give you a discount.”

Kit pouts, “Oh so I only get free stuff at home.”

“Yep. Gotta make that money.”

He huffs out a laugh, “I’d happily pay for anything made by you.”

It’s not my imagination this time. He definitely leaned forward.

“You flatter me,” I hope that didn’t come out as breathless as I think. “What if the only thing I can make are cookies?”

“I like cookies.” He whispers.

We’re so fucking close. 

“Good.”

I don’t know who moves first. One second we’re a breath apart, the next, our lips are touching in an impossibly soft kiss.

Neither of us move for a moment, and then Kit slowly moves his mouth over mine. I follow his lead, keeping the kiss soft and slow.

A hand grabs my hip and I groan as our bodies come together. Kit takes that opportunity to deepen the kiss. His tongue sweeps against my lip and I allow him in my mouth.

Gasping, I fight him for dominance. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything this good. He lets me take control of the kiss and I push him against the counter. Our lower bodies are flush and I can feel his arousal brushing against mine. Shivering, I press my lips harder to his. Tangling one hand in his hair, I pull back enough to bite at his lip, making him moan.

“Shit,” he gasps before kissing me hard.

I press my hips into his and groan at the sensation. Kit’s hands grip my ass tightly and it feels so fucking good. I almost beg him to fuck me, but that’d be reckless. Kissing him is enough for now.

We pull apart for breath, both of us panting softly. “Just so you know,” I tell him, “I don’t go around kissing all the neighbors.”

He laughs breathlessly, “That one neighbor might like you if you did.”

I snort and shake my head. “You’re prettier.”

I kiss him again, softer now. Our tongues meet and it’s perfect. Best kiss I’ve ever had. I could spend hours just kissing this man. Crazy? Absolutely, but it’s not the craziest thing I’ve done, not by a long shot.

About the Author 

Abrianna Denae is a twenty-five-year-old author living in Northern California. An English major, they have always had a passion for writing.

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

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

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

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You can also email her at authorabridenae@gmail.com

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Fractured Soul (Book 3) by Matthew Dante #kindleunlimited

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Fractured Soul (Book 3)

Author: Matthew Dante

Cover Artist: @the.ravens.touch 

Release Date: March 3, 2022

Genre:  M/M Thriller

Tropes: Obsessive Love

Themes: Human Trafficking

Heat Rating: 3 flames       

Length:  62 000 words/320 pages

This is the third book in the Fractured series. It does not end on a cliffhanger.

Books 1 and 2 should be read first.

Goodreads

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK  |  Amazon CA   

Blurb

They say we are all products of our environment. Those raised in happy households will become loving, well-adjusted members of society; while those raised in violence and darkness will grow to be angry, heartless, and unstable. Truer words were never spoken.

After surviving the terrifying events that occurred on the murder farm, Alex’s views of society have darkened. That once bright and hopeful light has now dimmed and given rise to rage and suspicion. 

Alex’s views of humanity are tested even further when he stumbles across a man bleeding to death in an alleyway. Who is this man? And why was he left for dead? 

Marc and Alex suddenly find themselves thrust into the seedy underworld of human trafficking and prostitution as they work to uncover the criminal organization preying on the weak and vulnerable.

This is a MM thriller dealing with the darker elements of the criminal underworld. 

Excerpt 

“While I might not say much at these hang outs, I do enjoy being there with you and being part of this circle of friends. You know that making friends has never come easy for me, but with you by my side, it makes things easier for me.”

“I’m glad to hear.”

“I do feel sorry for Seth though. I’ve never seen a guy look so terrified to come back to a table before.” Marc let out a chuckle as Alex’s head popped up.

“Hey! That boy needed a reminder to watch himself!” 

“And you sure reminded him. It was kind of sexy watching you claim me as your own. You were like a caveman about to club Seth over the head, then throw me over your shoulder, and carry me back to your cave! I’ve never felt so special and loved.” Marc said as he pulled Alex back down against his body.

“Well, you are special to me. How many couples can say that they took down a pair of serial killers and survived a murder farm together?” Alex chuckled as he caressed Marc’s bare chest.    

“I guess we do have that as an advantage over other couples. Couples that kill together, stay together. Or something like that.” Marc’s hand slid down Alex’s back and cupped the tender cheek of his ass. Alex let out a moan. “But in all seriousness, even if a guy flirts with me or tries to hit on me, always know that I only have eyes for you and that you are the only one that holds the key to my frozen heart. I would gladly battle my way through the fires of Hades if it meant that I got to spend the rest of my life worshiping you.”

“Well with words like that, I kind of feel bad for scaring Seth. The poor guy had no chance.” They both let out a laugh.

About the Author 

Matthew Dante is a Canadian indie author who loves to write about magic, fantasy, and romance. He is an avid reader, world traveller, lover of all things Marvel and DC, and a romantic at heart. 

Most of his stories center around gay main characters who are usually the love interests and the heroes of these stories. He writes these novels, so that other LGBTQ people will be able to read about characters and stories that they can relate to and be proud of.

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