Mongrel by Lee Colgin #kindleunlimited #giveaway

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Book Title: Mongrel

Author: Lee Colgin

Publisher: Colgin Enterprise

Cover Artist: Natasha Snow

Release Date: November 18, 2021

Genre: MM Paranormal Romance

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length:  76 000 words

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

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A misfit wolf

A guilt-ridden vampire

A chilling mystery

Blurb  

Mongrel, a creature more wolf than man, leads a lonely life on the fringes of pack society—until the night a handsome vampire shows up with a mysterious request.

Bowie—a vampire cursed to a life of endless nights—maintains close ties with his human family. When young girls in their village go missing, he must act quickly. But to find them, he’ll need to convince the local werewolf pack to loan him their best tracker—a wolf known as the Mongrel.

Though he hates the slur, Andras is used to being called Mongrel. When Bowie refuses to refer to him by anything but his given name, Andras can’t help a flicker of unexpected trust toward the stranger. He volunteers to help Bowie, risking banishment.

Can two tender-hearted men overcome their traumatic pasts and work together to rescue the girls before it’s too late? Or will the world’s most prolific killer snuff the flames of their passion along with the lives of her captives?

***

This steamy love story spans the country of Hungary as Andras and Bowie journey through cities and wilderness on their quest to right a killer’s wicked wrongs. Mongrel features a sweetly possessive werewolf, a cinnamon roll of a vampire, and the worst serial killer in history. A surprisingly fluffy MM Paranormal/Historical Romance considering the subject matter.   

HEA guaranteed with loads of laughs along the way and no cliffhanger ending!

Excerpt 

The Kingdom of Hungary, 1610

I watch the ground pass by beneath my paws rather than risk meeting the eyes of the other wolves. They probably aren’t looking anyway, having better things to do than greet the mongrel, even on a full moon. I’ve spent so long pretending not to care it’s almost worked. Who needs them? Not me.

I give a full-body shake to settle my fur how I like it and amble toward the heart of the village, a cool night breeze keeping me company. The chattering of insects pings from the forest beyond a row of humble cottages as I continue past.

Anticipating tonight’s run has me eager. I imagine the frantic heartbeat of my prey as I target my dinner. Pent-up energy dances in my muscles, tickling every nerve and rumbling in my chest. 

I love the hunt. Nothing else in my life brings the satisfaction I take from stalking, chasing, and tearing into my prize. It’s one of the few activities where the others tolerate my presence. Though they’ll never admit I’m the better predator, they’re always willing to devour the feast I provide.

Only Ava treats me as equal. She’s too old and frail to hunt for herself these days, but I’ll be sure to bring her a choice portion. Nothing beats a fresh meal, and she deserves the pleasure more than anyone.

It wasn’t always like this. I had friends once when childhood still sang with innocence and the world had yet to slam its doors on me. But remembering better times only brings sorrow, so I move forward to whatever tonight might hold.

Voices sound from fifty paces ahead. Odd because most of the pack would normally have shifted by dusk. Among them, a voice I don’t recognize floats to my ears.

“I must speak with your alpha,” says a smooth tenor, calm, though his timbre vibrates with urgency. “The matter is vital.”

Risking an upward glance, I scan the gathering. Jolan and Ozor, the pack’s enforcers, stand in their human forms facing the speaker, both tense and braced for a fight. But the stranger’s posture isn’t threatening. He’s neat, wearing charcoal stockings under a crisp blue tunic. Knee-high black boots gleam with a recent polish. Spine straight, shoulders back, weight settled in the heels, not the toes. Nut-brown hair hangs tied at his nape, most of it hidden beneath a fashionable black hat. If his features weren’t puckered with annoyance, he might be handsome. 

I creep closer on silent paws, ears flicked forward.

“We’re busy,” barks Ozor. “Or hadn’t you noticed the moon? Come back another night.”

The stranger’s lips part, but before he can reply, Farkas storms through his front door.

Clad only in a pair of worn tan breeches, the pack alpha thunders down the porch stairs and into the commons. Even barefoot, Farkas is intimidating, towering head and shoulders over the others. His black eyes land on the stranger in a threatening glower, but the man isn’t shaken.

“You’re the alpha, I presume?” The stranger extends a hand, his movement graceful, as if he’s been invited to a friendly tea instead of invading hostile werewolf territory on a full moon.

Farkas ignores the proffered hand. “Your kind isn’t welcome here.”

Your kind. Wondering what that means, I inch forward so I can scent him for myself.

The stranger returns his arm to his side, fingers curled but not fisted. “And you have my apologies, but this couldn’t be avoided.” His eyebrows arch as he inclines his head. “We must speak.”

I sniff the air. His scent is masked by soaps. Lavender was used for his clothes, rose for his skin and hair, but beneath the added fragrance lies the spiced scent of blood—his own, yes, but also…someone else’s? That’s odd.

“Then speak,” growls Farkas. “What do you want from me, vampire?”

A vampire! I’ve never seen one before. He looks so…human. Fragile. Not what I’d expect of a blood-drinking night terror at all. 

About the Author 

Lee Colgin has loved vampires since she read Dracula on a hot, sunny beach at 13 years old. She lives in North Carolina with lots of dogs and her husband. No, he’s not a vampire, but she loves him anyway. Lee likes to workout so she can eat the maximum amount of cookies with her pizza. Ask her how much she can bench press.

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a $10 Amazon Gift Card to celebrate the author’s 10th release 

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an ebook Bundle of the Immortal Jewels Series (three books)

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Dark Fate: An MM Urban Fantasy Romance by Kat Silver #giveaway

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Book Title: Dark Fate: An MM urban fantasy romance (Flame Born Book 2)

Author: Kat Silver

Publisher: Kat Silver

Cover Artist: Bookfly

Release Date: November 12, 2021

Genres: Urban fantasy romance

Tropes: Enemies to lovers 

Themes: Self-discovery and empowerment, finding home, freedom, good vs evil

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 117 000 words

It is not a standalone book, but part of a series (Flame Born Book 2)

This story ends on a satisfying cliffhanger.

Goodreads 

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Torn between finding answers and escaping chains, can Michael trust his werewolf lover or is the devious vampire prince the only one truly on his side?

Blurb 

“And if I am a monster? Will you want me then?” 

Ten days after the battle at Blackriver, Michael struggles with new forbidden desires, with his rampant Flame, and a deepening relationship with the taciturn werewolf, Commander Gabriel Flanagan.

Feeling responsible for their loss, Michael longs to rescue the students stolen by the manipulative vampire prince, Alexei Vasiliev. But the High Council refuses to free Michael from his chains. They fear the whisperer — the half-breed who decimated an entire company of soldiers and came back from the dead. Yet, Michael still yearns for a future among the Guardians. For a place beside his Finnish, silver-eyed giant. For a home within the crazy supernatural world he’s now bound to. 

But does Michael still have a future? He’s a descendent of the Warlock — from a bloodline that produces only monsters. If discovered, not even his protective lover can save him from certain execution. He may not want to.

Dark Fate is the second book in the Flame Born series. This MM urban fantasy/paranormal romance is action packed, featuring steaming hot scenes, a hunk of an alpha love interest, a chocolate scented snarky vampire prince, a clever best friend who can kill a man with her little finger, and one too many shady characters to count. See inside for trigger warnings on both books. 

Excerpt

I grip the sink edge, knuckles white, and glare at the contents of the glass vial lying beside the tap. The viscous liquid, the color of a fine bottled wine, looks so innocuous. Innocent. A random sample of blood.

There’s nothing innocent about this vial’s contents.

Every time I see it, my mouth salivates with the need for a taste. Whenever I take the vial from my pocket to caress the cool glass in my hand, a clamoring monster of desire rips through me like a fire.

Not this time.

I swipe up the tube, twist out the cork, and prepare to pour the blood away. Metal clanks against ceramic, echoing through the small bathroom, as the chain between my wrist manacles knocks the sink. A heady smell of cocoa and figs hits my nostrils. My hand falters. God, that scent.

His scent.

An urgency to inhale the smell deep into my lungs, to press the glass into my lips and lick the rim, almost takes control. 

Alexei. That devious vampire. He knew exactly what he was doing when he left me with this. His blood constantly tugs at me like an unfinished song. Like a broken tooth my tongue won’t leave alone.

I could wash temptation away. Watch clear water turn burgundy as the vile substance slides into the drain.

I won’t.

I’ve faced this trial for ten days, and the result never changes.

I’ve tried to show the vial to Flanagan. Tried to hand it over so he can smash the glass and destroy the contents. Somehow, it always returns to my hiding places. A dirty secret.

About the Author 

I’m a simple northern English lass with an addiction to writing, as well as all things romance. Also addicted to cats, cat videos, and anything with, you know, cats in it. And there’s chocolate, and tea, coffee too, and rainy Sundays. Okay, I have many addictions. But my first love has always been story in all its forms, from movies to books to anecdotes told over a beer at the local pub. If we’re sharing a story, I’m all ears. And if it’s fantasy with sexy heroes and vampires and lots of angsty luuurve, I’m probably drooling. Come in, pour yourself a tea, and kick your shoes off. Let me tell you a story.

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Remember When by BL Maxwell #kindleunlimited #giveaway

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Book Title: Remember When 

Author: BL Maxwell 

Publisher and Cover Artist: BL Maxwell

Release Date: November 11, 2021

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance

Tropes: Friends to lovers, small town, holiday romance 

Themes: Secret crush, secrets revealed

Heat Rating: 2 flames

Length: 50 500 words

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

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Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited 

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A night to remember, a confession, and a lifetime of love in this small town, friends to lovers Christmas romance.

Blurb

Andrew Lawson’s life in Sacramento has turned from being everything he dreamed of growing up, to a lonely place where finding someone special to share his life with is impossible. When the first person he meets on returning home for Thanksgiving is his childhood friend Link, it’s a reminder of happier times when his whole future lay in front of him. Agreeing to a drink before heading to his parent’s place is a way to reconnect, and a great way to start the holiday.  

Link Stanton never considered leaving the small farming town he grew up in, but he misses Andy more than he’ll ever admit. Secretly lusting after a friend is bad enough but being in love with him is so much worse. One drink with friends seems harmless enough, after all, catching up on old times can’t be a bad thing, until beers turn to shots, and Link reveals how he really feels. 

Everything could change, and if Andy doesn’t remember Link’s heartfelt confession, they could carry on as friends. But if he does remember, this could be either the worst, or the best, Christmas of all. 

Excerpt 

Sunday morning came and I slept in. The past few days, including two nights of drinking, had finally caught up with me. I’d stayed up late the night before texting with Link about anything and nothing at all. Like always, that was just how it was between us.

Around ten I rolled out of bed and checked my phone. A few clients had messaged hoping to get in sometime before Christmas. They were smart to book it now. Even though it was a month away, by the end of this week there wouldn’t be any openings.

It was a perfect Sunday, I didn’t leave the house and got everything ready for the week. This week would be the beginning, and it wouldn’t let up until Christmas Eve. I normally worked it, but after this year I’d decided it was time to start taking it off.

I was just settled down on the couch and turned on the TV when my phone rang. “Hello?” “Hey.” I’d know that smooth deep voice anywhere.

“I was just thinking about you.” It wasn’t a lie, since I’d left home Link had been on my mind constantly.

“Good thoughts I hope.”

“Always. It was great seeing you again. I know it hadn’t been that long but it really was nice to catch up again.”

His words brought a smile to my face, and I pictured his blue eyes crinkling at the corners with a grin. “So, are you going to give me any clues?”

“Do you need a clue?” he taunted, and he knew he taunted. I would have sworn I could hear his smirk through the line.

“Link, you know I need a clue. I’ve been racking my brain since Friday trying to remember anything that might help. Why did you let me drink so many shots?”

“Hey, you were having fun, we were all having fun. Who was I to ruin anyone’s good time? And once you started you were all in. Then we were dancing, and well it was a lot of fun.”

Oh god, he was right. It wasn’t unusual for us to all get together before a holiday and have a few drinks, there was nothing that would make me not go all in. “It was a lot of fun, it’s been a while since I’ve gone out.” I wanted to mention his confession, and how he kissed me. But I wasn’t sure how to bring it up, and it felt like something we should talk about in person.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for years,” he whispered, and I would have sworn I could feel his breath on my neck.

“I think you said that the other night.” My own voice was soft and breathy. I wasn’t sure exactly why, but the mood had changed, and I didn’t want anything to break the spell his words had woven around us.

“Did I?” He played coy, something that was new between us. But I found I was quite drawn to.

“You did, right before you kissed me.” He was quiet then. Too quiet, and I checked the phone to be sure we were still connected. “Link?”

About the Author 

BL Maxwell grew up in a small town listening to her grandfather spin tales about his childhood. Later she became an avid reader and after a certain vampire series she became obsessed with fanfiction. She soon discovered Slash fanfiction and later discovered the MM genre and was hooked. 

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Cosy & Chill by Jackie Keswick #kindleunlimited #giveaway

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Book Title:  Cosy & Chill

Author: Jackie Keswick

Publisher: Jackie Keswick

Cover Artist: Covers by Jo

Release Date: November 10, 2021

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance with a Touch of Magic

Tropes: Opposites Attract, everyday magic, stranded fae, lost treasure, house mates, home-made family / found family

Themes: How to make dreams come true

Heat Rating: 3 flames       

Length:  approx. 62 000 words

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

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Romance with a Touch of Fae

Blurb

What does it take to change your life?

Not “manly” enough for his father, quiet, industrious Finn dreams of his own knitting store. He needs Leo’s enthusiasm to take the steps that make his dream come true.

Cheerful, adventurous Leo puts on a good front selling artisan ice cream at the market, but shies away from fulfilling his grandmother’s last wish. He needs Finn’s love and support to tackle his past and put it to rest for good.

Add a Saxon treasure, a fae stranded in the human world, and an empty store with very unusual rental terms and falling in love is not the only challenge Finn and Leo have to face.

But there’s magic in dreams, and all they have to do is hold on tight.

Excerpt 

Finn’s boots squelched with every step. When he kicked them off on his parents’ doorstep, water seeped from his wet socks. “I hate November,” he grumbled while he hunted for his keys. “And weather forecasters.”

They hadn’t predicted this morning’s downpour, and Finn minded that. He might have taken an umbrella had he known. Or a boat.

He’d gone to the post office to drop off his latest batch of parcels, detouring on to the far end of the High Street to look at an empty store on the way back. Double-fronted with a bow window, it was perfect for the shop he dreamed of. He’d lingered in front of the dusty windows, imagining them sparkling clean, and the shelves in the room beyond filled to bursting—until the rain had prompted him to leave.

The shop was all he could think of and if wishes were coins, he’d have rented it already. As matters stood, he hadn’t even enquired.

Finn pushed open the door, and a ball of russet yarn with two needles sticking through it hit him right in the face.

“How many times have I told you not to leave your prissy stuff lying around the house?” His father bellowed at full volume from three feet away.

Finn wanted to point out that his ears worked fine, thank you very much, but knew that it would only make matters worse. He picked up the yarn, grateful that neither needle had poked his eye out, and that his father’s rough treatment hadn’t dropped any stitches.

“Sorry, Dad,” he muttered, meaning it. He’d been working on a commission when he realised that he’d miss the parcel collection if he didn’t hurry. In his rush to the door, he’d brought the half-finished glove in his wake. He should have taken it back to his room and run if he’d needed to, but that was water under the bridge.

He hung up his jacket in the hallway, then stripped off his sodden socks and his T-shirt so he could dry his feet before leaving wet footprints everywhere. He wiped up the water on the wooden floor for good measure before he made his way up the stairs.

If his father was yelling when it was barely five o’clock, then the rest of the evening wouldn’t be peaceful. No doubt he’d already opened the bottle of Scotch he’d bought yesterday.

Finn couldn’t cope with much more of this. Christmas was two months away. His list of orders was as long as his arm and turning away new business was not an option. He needed to work, not sit in his room, keeping half an ear out for trouble. 

The familiar, colourful clutter in his room soothed his mind. The space wasn’t large, just roomy enough for a bed, a wardrobe, and his desk. Every free corner held boxes and baskets filled with yarn, and he hunted for a piece he could create in a few hours. Hats were good for that. He could knock those out in no time flat.

His order book showed two requests for hats, and both were his favourites: custom orders.

He opened the first file to the smiling face of a young woman with green eyes, red hair a few shades darker than his own bright copper, and a spray of freckles across her nose. She’d requested a hat in a flattering style, but had specified nothing else. Moss green, his mind supplied immediately. Mohair. A close-fitting hat with a swirl pattern.

Suddenly excited, he went rummaging under his desk for a skein of moss-green yarn that showed tiny speckles of deep red here and there. He stuffed the yarn into his messenger bag along with his needle case, a measuring tape and the customer’s measurements. Then he changed into dry clothes and checked the weather. The rain had let up a bit, and Finn hoped he could make it to the pub without getting soaked again.

His father was swearing at something on the telly, as had become his habit. Finn tiptoed out and breathed a sigh of relief when he stood in the rain. Everything set off his father’s temper these days. Especially Finn.

He really should move out. He would move out. As soon as he’d saved enough to afford the rent on a small shop with a room where he could sleep. Maybe then, his father wouldn’t be so angry all the time and his mother would smile again.

Three hours later, the moss-green hat was nearing completion. Warm through after a dinner of steak pie and chips, and nursing a second beer, Finn felt almost happy. He was a familiar sight in the Crown & Anchor, tucked into a corner with his yarns and needles. It was a place where he could work without fear of interruption, and he’d been coming here ever since his father had lost his job and started drinking.

Food and peace weren’t the only things to recommend the pub. It was a great place to pick up commissions. People always looked for unusual, one-of-a-kind gifts, and he’d made christening gowns, blankets, baby clothes, scarves, hats, gloves, even Christmas ornaments.

The crowd was friendly and Annabelle, who held the pub’s license and worked at the bar that night, was more supportive than his parents had ever been. He’d made her a long cardigan, wine- red yak with a touch of silk, and she was perfectly happy for him to sit in his corner and knit. She even recommended him to friends and customers.

He hadn’t shared his dreams of owning a yarn shop with anyone, but maybe it was time to change that. He was working up his courage to ask her about business loans and setup grants, but he’d wait until she’d finished speaking to the guy leaning on the bar.

He had broad shoulders that tapered to slim hips, a trim backside, and long legs. A fisherman’s rib jumper, Finn’s mind suggested. Navy blue AAran. Or tweed, indigo with gold speckles. With a high collar to show off that long neck and let the slightly too long blond hair pool like gold against the blue.

You’re staring. Stop it.

That was easier said than done until Finn thought to wonder why the guy had four little Tupperware dishes open on the bar between himself and Annabelle.

He was explaining something to her, talking not just with his hands but with his whole body. There was passion in that lithe form, something bright and shining that held Finn’s interest until he realised he hadn’t stopped staring at all.

He dropped his gaze to his newly finished hat and tried to focus on the pattern, the run of the yarn. It would suit the lady who’d sent the photo. It would frame her delicate face, set off the striking hair, and bring out the green of her eyes. He knew the hat would find favour with her, but—for once—knitting couldn’t hold his mind.

The blond man at the bar drew his mind and his eyes, and Finn caught the moment when all that passion fell to ashes. The man’s shoulders slumped and one of his hands dropped to his side.

Annabelle watched him with an apologetic smile as he returned his dishes to his bag. She pulled a beer for him and handed it across the bar.

For a heartbeat, he appeared as if he was going to refuse. Then he dipped his head in thanks and reached for the glass. He slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder and turned away from the bar.

In a move that surprised him by its daring, Finn caught the man’s gaze, flicked his own to the empty seat at this table. He’d never been so brazen before, but something in the man’s wary determination spoke to him. He wasn’t sure what the blond man saw, but he came over and set his beer on the table.

“May I?”

About the Author 

Jackie Keswick was born behind the Iron Curtain with itchy feet, a bent for rocks and a recurring dream of stepping off a bus in the middle of nowhere to go home. She’s worked in a hospital and as the only girl with 52 men on an oil rig, spent a winter in Moscow and a summer in Iceland and finally settled in the country of her dreams with her dream team: a husband, a cat, a tandem, a hammer and a laptop.

Jackie loves unexpected reunions and second chances, and men who write their own rules. She blogs about English history and food, has a thing for green eyes, and is a great believer in making up soundtracks for everything, including her characters and the cat.

And she still hasn’t found the place where the bus stops.

For questions and comments, not restricted to green eyes, bus stops or recipes for traditional English food, you can find Jackie Keswick in all the usual places

Blog/Website  |  Facebook group  |  Facebook page  |  Twitter 

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New Release – Red’s Wolf by Beth Laycock #kindleunlimited #giveaway

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Book Title: Red’s Wolf

Author: Beth Laycock

Publisher: Rainbow Romance Press

Cover Artist: Free To Be Creative Co

Release Date: November 10, 2021

Genre: Paranormal romance

Tropes: Friends to lovers, age gap, snowed-in together 

Themes: Found family, learning to accept yourself

Heat Rating:  3 – 4 flames  

Length: approx 28 000 words

It is the first book in a series of standalone books/novellas and does not end on a cliffhanger. 

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A fairy-tale retelling with a paranormal twist!

Blurb

Concerned for his gran’s health, Red braves the snow-covered forest to ensure she’s safe in the worsening weather. After several encounters over recent months, Red is both hoping to run into the huntsman again whilst also dreading he might because he knows their friendship can’t lead to more, no matter how much he wishes it might. 

A glimpse of his huntsman distracts Red and he stumbles away from the safety of the woodland path straight into the danger known as the wolf of Bowland. Shaken, but unharmed, Red manages to escape to the safety of his gran’s cottage to recover. 

Despite Red’s reservations, the pair grow closer after they end up snowed in together at the huntsman’s cabin, but can Aldrich help Red accept there is nothing wrong with who he is? Or will Red let his secret and insecurities come between them? Especially when he finds out his huntsman is hiding a secret of his own.

This M/M romance from Beth Laycock features friends to lovers, an age gap, snowed-in together, shifters and witches, and of course a HEA.

Excerpt 

I stopped as I reached the twisted oak and drew in a deep breath, and then slowly blew it out in a plume of white vapour. Hope warred with trepidation. I didn’t know the man all that well, we’d met a handful of times over the last few months in the woods to stop and talk, but I knew enough that I liked the man and wanted to discover more about him. 

And those encounters in the secluded woods had left me wanting more. More glimpses of the toned body that was hinted at beneath his clothes. More opportunities to listen to his lilting, almost musical voice as we chatted about everything and nothing. More chances to lose my senses in his intoxicating musky scent with that spicy hint of cinnamon. 

And didn’t that just spell trouble with a capital T. Looking forward to seeing the huntsman could only lead to heartache. I doubted one night with him would be anywhere near enough. And I didn’t do relationships. Couldn’t

With a brush of my palm over the twisted oak’s trunk, I veered off to the right and towards Gran’s. The hairs on the back of my neck lifted and as I raised my gaze…there he was. As if thinking about him had conjured him out of thin air, and I sucked in an icy breath.

Crouched in the distance, blurred by the snow that had begun to fall again, but I’d have recognised him anywhere. I took a step towards him. Adrenaline surged through my veins as excitement and anticipation spurred me closer. I couldn’t drag my gaze off him as he reached out a hand to the snow. 

What is he doing? 

Too engrossed by the vision of the huntsman, I must have wandered to the edge of the path because I stumbled over a small boulder hidden beneath the blanket of snow. I cried out as I fell, throwing out my hands to break my fall and to try to keep me on the path as my gran’s warnings rang out in my head. Never leave the path, Red. It’s not safe in the woods if you’re not on the path, that’s the only place I can protect you out there

But it was too late. As my elbow connected with the ground, it was cushioned by the soft earth of the forest floor instead of hard stone. Pain ripped through my body, and every bone ached as the curse took hold of me. 

I rolled onto my side as my hands morphed into paws, claws flicking out, and grey fur sprouting over every inch of my skin. My eyes shifted position and my vision dimmed to only muted colours as my sense of hearing heightened—the scuffle of some small animal scurrying away along a branch, the whisper of the snow falling on the ground, the slow, deep breaths of the huntsman in the distance—and my ears twitched.

My fangs dropped from my gums to replace my useless regular teeth, and my nose lengthened into a snout as the smells of the forest overwhelmed me. I could scent the huntsman even from this distance. And that tug I felt in my chest every time I saw him intensified to the point I almost threw my head back and howled.

The cinnamon tang of him had saliva dripping from my fangs, and I shuddered at the thought of sinking them into his warm, soft flesh. I shook my head, trying to rid the idea from my mind as I scrambled to my paws, but I could almost feel the give of his skin beneath my fangs as they sliced through him. 

My wolf did not control me. I would not bite a human. My heart throbbed at the thought, especially at the notion of harming the huntsman. It seemed wrong somehow, even though it was in my wolf nature to kill, and I couldn’t deny that weird urge—bite, bite, bite—whenever I was around him. 

The snap of a twig made me flinch. It was so loud and brought my surroundings back into sharp focus. A glance over my shoulder confirmed my worst fears. The huntsman was headed straight for me. 

I bounded away in the other direction, dodging between trees in the hope of shaking him off my trail. Of course, I didn’t. He was a huntsman and he easily tracked my paw prints in the snow despite the fact he couldn’t match my pace.

I circled back to where I’d stumbled off the path, crossing over my original paw prints to throw him off my tail. My tongue lolled out despite the cold nip in the air. I darted behind the twisted oak tree, my ears twitching as I listened for the huntsman. Nothing. 

I hung my head and drew in a breath. The big bad wolf escapes his hunter.

About the Author 

Beth Laycock’s books are influenced by her time living overseas as well as the gritty, urban landscape of the north of England where she grew up. She has been reading romance since she was old enough to tell herself that line every book lover does—just one more chapter.

As a teenager, she attempted to write her first novel, and many more since then are still gathering dust on her bookshelf. It wasn’t until she discovered the M/M genre that her muse showed up and refused to quit telling her stories about beautiful men finding love together. She hasn’t stopped scribbling them down since. Beth’s muse usually shows up when she is in the shower, is allergic to cleaning, rarely lets her watch TV, and insists she drinks copious amounts of coffee so she can turn caffeine into words.

 Beth’s books range from sweet to sexy, long to short, contemporary to paranormal, but a HEA is always guaranteed.

Social Media Links

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Newsletter Sign-up  |  Pinterest  |  BookBub

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New Release – Safe Harbour by Thom Collins #giveaway

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Safe Harbour (Jagged Shores Book 2) 

Author: Thom Collins

Publisher: Pride Publishing

Release Date: November 9, 2021

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance, Thriller and suspense

Tropes. Small town, holiday/coastal romance

Themes: Divorce, fresh starts, jealousy

Heat Rating: 4 flames    

Length: 58 382 words/ 229 pages

It is the second book in a linked series (Jagged Shores) but can be read alone. 

It does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links

Universal Sales Link  |  Publisher  |  First For Romance 

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK  |  Amazon AUS

Kobo |  Barnes and Noble

Two lovers seek shelter in a storm of jealousy and passion

Blurb

Matt arrives in the seaside town of Nyemouth for a much-needed vacation. As a successful lawyer, Matt has a hectic career, and with an ex-husband still pestering him for money, he is long overdue a break. A holiday home perched above the town and its breath-taking harbour seems like the perfect place to unwind. Matt can’t wait to explore the beautiful, jagged shorelines and lose himself for a couple of weeks.

Jake has made a home in Nyemouth. After growing up in the city, living on the coast is everything to him. Running a business with his sister and volunteering on the crew of the local lifeboat, he is exactly where he wants to be. But Jake’s life is far from peaceful. Though he left his domineering husband Vince a year ago, Vince refuses to consent to a divorce or loosen his controlling hold on Jake.

On Matt’s first night in town, he encounters the couple having a blazing row. When Vince turns violent, Matt intervenes and takes Jake inside to escape his angry ex. Despite what happened, Matt feels a powerful attraction to the younger man. Jake is bright, endearing and unbelievably attractive, but the young man’s life is complicated. Matt already has enough problems of his own. He came away looking for an escape, not a starry-eyed distraction. As Matt and Jake get to know each other better, the gamble on a holiday romance becomes hard for either of them to resist. They have both been unlucky in love before. Maybe this time will be different.

Vince will not be shaken off so easily. He has no intention of letting Jake go…ever. As Matt’s and Jake’s emotions deepen, they do not understand how far Vince will take things to keep his husband. As far as Vince is concerned, they made a vow to each other… “till death do us part.”

Excerpt

Matt opened the gate and approached Jake, who stood watching as Vince walked away.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Jake’s skin was rosy, and his chest rose and fell dramatically. His hands trembled. Shock, Matt surmised. Jake turned to look at him. His eyes were wide, the pupils huge. “Yes,” he said, out of breath, “I’m… I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“What?”

Matt pointed at his cheek. “Where he clocked you.”

“Oh.” He put his fingers to his face and looked at the blood on the tips. 

“Why don’t you come inside for a few minutes? I’ll get you an Elastoplast for that.”

“No, I couldn’t. Sorry… We’ve caused you enough trouble already.”

“Hey,” he said softly, “don’t apologise. I couldn’t ignore what was happening. Come on in. You’re shaking, too. Take a seat until you get your breath back. Give your buddy time to get away. I wouldn’t want you bumping into him at the bottom of the road.”

Jake exhaled, and the tension left his neck and shoulders. “If it’s no trouble, I could come in for a few minutes—just until things calm down.”

“Are you hurting anywhere else?” he asked, leading Jake to the front door and inside. “From when you fell.”

“Only my pride,” he said. “If that counts.”

Matt smiled. “Nothing wrong with your sense of humour.” He led Jake to the kitchen at the rear of the ground floor and sat him at the table. Matt folded a piece of kitchen roll into a small square and gave it to Jake. “Press this tight against the cut. There’s a first-aid kit in my suitcase. I won’t be a minute.”

“No need,” Jake said, pressing the paper towel against his cheek. “This should be enough to stop the bleeding. It’s just a scratch. You’ve done more than enough already. Thanks a lot.”

Being so close to him, Matt realised what a great-looking guy Jake was, with those beautiful eyes and unblemished skin. His T-shirt was well-fitted, showing the fine shape of his chest and shoulders beneath. His bare arms were muscular, gently suntanned and covered in light-brown hair. Despite his serious expression, there were very few lines on his face. Matt guessed his age to be around twenty-five.

“Do you want me to call the police?” he asked. “I got most of what happened on camera—certainly, the assault part. With me as a witness and the video evidence, they’ll have enough to charge him. It’ll get him out of your hair for the weekend, at least.”

Jake shook his head. “I don’t want to involve the police. It will only make things worse.”

“That guy assaulted you.”

“I’ll live. It’s just a scratch. If we phone the police, it will only make Vince worse.”

Matt didn’t push it. He’d seen this so many times before when victims of violence didn’t want to pursue a case for fear of inflaming the situation. “So, who is that guy? Your boyfriend?”

Jake exhaled dramatically. “If only. That would make things so much easier. No, Vince is my husband—soon-to-be ex-husband. At least I hope so. That’s what tonight was all about. My solicitor wrote to him about the divorce and he got the letter this morning.”

About the Author 

Thom Collins is the author of Closer by Morning, North Point and the Anthem Trilogy. His love of page turning thrillers began at an early age when his mother caught him reading the latest Jackie Collins book and confiscated it, sparking a life-long love of raunchy novels.

Thom has lived in the North East of England his whole life. He grew up in Northumberland and now lives in County Durham with his husband and two cats. He loves all kinds of genre fiction, especially bonk-busters, thrillers, romance and horror. He is also a cookery book addict with far too many titles cluttering his shelves. When not writing he can be found in the kitchen trying out new recipes. He’s a keen traveler but with a fear of flying that gets worse with age, but in 2013 he realized cruising is the best way to see the world.

Check out his website for news updates and a free ebook The Night.

Other links

Twitter: @thomwolf  |  Instagram: thomcollinsauthor  |   Newsletter Sign-up   

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one of five ebooks from Thom’s backlist.

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Genie in a Vodka Bottle by Rob Rosen #giveaway

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Genie in a Vodka Bottle

Author: Rob Rosen

Publisher: JMS Books

Release Date: November 6, 2021

Genre: Speculative M/M Romance, Mystery, Adventure

Tropes: Genie, Enemy to Friend, Magic

Themes: Searching for love, forgiveness

Heat Rating:  4 flames   

Length:  139 pages/56 000 words

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

Goodreads

Buy Links

Amazon US   |   Amazon UK 

Barnes & Noble  |  Kobo  |  Google Play

A funny, frisky, and frequently heart-pounding genie romance and adventure novel!

Blurb

Mysterious forces are at play when Paul’s vacation to Spain unexpectedly detours to Gibraltar and then Morocco, to a vodka bottle in a hole in the wall bar, to a handsome genie with a slew of secrets, plus almost limitless powers, virtually no memory, and a keen desire to be freed from his curse. Along the way, Paul is reunited with his ex-lover and the genie’s previous master as fate draws them ever deeper into a murky, dangerous past.

On our heroes travel, from the frigid north of Russia to a magic carpet ride across China, ultimately finding themselves in the deserts of ancient Jordan. Here, they encounter another of the genie’s previous masters and a power far greater than they could’ve ever imagined, all within a massive temple carved into a mountainside. Can our intrepid foursome uncover the truth before the curse takes them all and possibly the entire world down? Will love win out in the end? Or is the genie forever doomed to a life foretold in fairy tales?

In this funny, frisky, and frequently heart-pounding adventure, only one thing is for certain: magic can happen even without three wishes.

Excerpt 

The bottle was still in my hand. I reached for the cork. I gave it a pull. It didn’t budge. I pulled again, harder this time. Nope, nothing. That cork must’ve been in there a long, long time, I figured. I stood up, placed the bottle between my knees, wiped the sweat from my palms and grabbed on tightly to the cork. Then, seeing as where I was, grunted, “Open sesame,” and gave one final, massive yank.

POP went the cork.

“Oh fuck,” went I.

I mean sure, the bottle was open, but, um, well, time was suddenly standing still. Like totally still. Nothing was moving, not the fans, the waitress, not Omar, who was pouring a drink that was suspended in midair. Though me, yeah, me I was moving. Or least my heart was. Super-fast, in fact. Energizer Bunny fast.

“Oh fuck,” went I, yet again.

Because now the vodka bottle was pouring, only, it wasn’t pouring vodka. And the pouring wasn’t obeying the laws of gravity because what was being poured went out and up as opposed down and down some more. Plus, the vodka bottle should have been pouring liquid but appeared to be pouring gas, a massive white cloud of it tinged with swirls of various shades of blue and, if I wasn’t mistaken, which I wasn’t, lightning. I mean, I knew lightning when I saw it, it’s just I’d never seen it being poured from a vodka bottle before.

The cloud spread, the blue becoming purple, then red, then all the colors of the rainbow at once. It looked like what you saw in an oil slick, greasy and blending and bleeding. And then the room I was in was all cloud, and it was just me in the cloud, me and the vodka bottle and the cloud of smoke and lightning and rainbow. The hairs on my neck stood on end as I tried to take it all in, but how do you take in a cloud, especially when it’s all around you, choking you, engulfing you completely as if it were a living, breathing thing? And you could feel it, too. The power of it.

“Oh fuck,” went I for the third time. Because now I was not alone in the cloud, and the eyes that had been staring back at me from the label on the bottle were no longer on the bottle and were no longer the same eyes. And the face on the bottle had a body, a different body, a new body, and the body was big, and the body was torso on top and cloudy solidness down below, and the face was above mine, and the eyes were staring down upon me, boring through me, piercing what felt like my very soul. Or maybe that was me being a bit overdramatic, but how can you not be overdramatic at a time such as that?

“Master,” boomed the voice that erupted forth from the mouth in the face, the cloud all at once swept from the still-stagnant room. The half torso, half solid cloud still floated above me, still churning in color and lightning and a slight tremble of thunder that reminded me of our drive through Spain, me and Omar number two.

“Paul,” I managed to squeak out.

The face tilted ever so slightly. “Paul? What is a Paul? I do not know this word.” The voice again boomed, rattled my bones, shook the fillings in my mouth. The voice was deep as the ocean, heavy as a boulder, pressing down upon me with each vowel and syllable that was uttered.

“Paul,” I said, sitting back down in my chair. Or falling back down in my chair. Probably the latter. “That is my name. Paul.”

The cloud-man craned down, the eyes barely a foot away. “Paul,” came the voice in a whoosh that washed over me like a tidal wave, the exhale smelling of spices and earth and incense. If you bottled it, it’d sell well. I had a bottle in hand, but, like the room around me, I was sort of also frozen to the spot, and so bottling, at least for the time being, seemed out of the question. “You have freed me, Master Paul.”

I blinked. He did not. He had eyes the color of fresh moss, skin the color of The Rock back in Gibraltar, perhaps a shade darker. He was shirtless, dense with smooth muscle from chest to arms to hands to fingers. And despite the obvious power of him, he looked young, my age, give or take. And as for the cloud below him, it swirled like a cyclone, shooting off sparks as he hovered there. He was beautiful. He was fearsome. I needed to pee. Badly.

About the Author 

Rob Rosen is the author of the award-winning novels Sparkle: The Queerest Book You’ll Ever Love, Divas Las Vegas, Hot Lava, Southern Fried, Queerwolf, Vamp, Queens of the Apocalypse, Creature Comfort, Fate, Midlife Crisis, Fierce, And God Belched, Mary, Queen of Scotch, Ted of the d’Urbervilles, Sort of Dead, and Genie in a Vodka Bottle, and editor of the anthologies Lust in Time, Men of the Manor, Best Gay Erotica 2015, and Best Gay Erotica of the Year, Volumes 1, 2, 3 and 4.

Social Media Links

Blog/Website  |   Facebook

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

BOOK BLAST

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

Author: J.K. Hogan

Publisher:  Euphoria Press

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

Release Date: October 12, 2021

Genre: M/M Fantasy Romance

Tropes: Enemies to lovers

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

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 90 000 words

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

Goodreads

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

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

Blurb

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

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

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

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

Excerpt

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who are you?”

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

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

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

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

“After you shot me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

About the Author 

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

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

Social Media Links

Blog/Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter

Instagram  |   Amazon  |  Pinterest

Giveaway 

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your choice of ebook from the author’s backlist

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Seashell Virgin by Steve Schatz #giveaway

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Seashell Virgin

Author: Steve Schatz

Publisher: Any Summer Sunday Books

Cover Artist: James – GoOnWrite.com

Release Date: October 31, 2021

Genre: Humorous Mystery, Gay Friends, Drag

Tropes: Friends overcoming haters,

Themes: Empowering, humor

Heat Rating:  2 flames

Length: 85 000 words/ 288 pages

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

It is part of a series with related characters and themes, but reading the other books in the series is not required. 

Goodreads 

Buy Links

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

Mystery, Wit & Drag Queens 

Blurb 

Fast-paced fun. Touching and tawdry. Churchies, crooks, and rapscallions scheme to close our only gay bar, rape a forest, and get rich with a gay-hating charter school. Break-ins, kidnapping, threats, blackmail, bondage, and the most spectacular drag show the world has ever seen, thrill and delight you as the anti-heroes from Nacho Mama’s Patio Cafe once more answer the call to set things straight, as it were.

Excerpt

Chapter 1 – Some Days Suck

Gone! A fourteen-foot truck packed to the tits with geegaws, gowns, and glamour—spirited away. I had parked it right here, less than thirty minutes before, obvious as a zit on a first date, across the street from Hoosier Daddy, the town’s only gay bar. Close, so when I got stuck carrying everything TiaRa del Fuego chose into the dressing rooms backstage, I’d have less of a struggle. I had already been far too butch for a day off. I had planned for a day full of napping, occasional attempts at cleaning, some light reading, and more napping. Then Beau showed up far too early and ever since, I had been far too active for someone of my tender years and with my lack of motivation.

All that splendor had not just walked itself into the van. No, these arms, these legs, and this back had been repeatedly besmirched by physical effort and all were letting their displeasure be known. When I’d pulled up to the bar a few minutes earlier, I wanted, needed, and deserved a drink, possibly two—while I described the glories that awaited in the truck to TiaRa and Suave. Timmy had laid the groundwork and my ebullience had sealed the deal. TiaRa had said she positively hungered for the gowns and baubles. Suave KitTan had declared she already had a plan to sneak a quantity of the lovely things into her store, Suave Delights, while evading the watchful eye of her devoted husband Foxy, who had once again decreed no new stock was allowed until there were sales to match. Suave was always much more interested in acquisition than disposition. All that remained between me and a lovely lie down was the actual hand over. So, we went out to complete the exchange. Simple. But there the truck wasn’t.

“Are you sure you parked it here?” asked TiaRa in much the same tone a mother uses when asking, “Where did you see it last?”

Swallowing my frustration, I managed to contain my impulse to point out that my age and mental abilities had not declined to such an extent that I would have forgotten where I had parked the truck in such a short time. TiaRa, a delicate being, did not deserve snippy replies, despite my rising alarm.

The truck had been either towed or stolen. One possibility was expensive, and the other horrifying. I had just promised the contents to TiaRa and Suave and I hated to disappoint them. Far worse, the truck was actually the property of my latest job. I had only recently been given keys to the shop and knew where the keys to the truck were kept. No one had been at work when Beau’s moving emergency arose. The truck wasn’t scheduled to be used, so I had borrowed it without asking. I just left a note for Brian, the owner. I knew this was generally acceptable. Others had done it, but I was new and hadn’t taken the liberty before. If the truck was in any way damaged, I would be looking for a new job. If it had been stolen, I might be looking for a lawyer. I do not handle stress well. My mouth tends to make talking motions without actually forming words. Tia and Suave looked at me with growing concern.

Maybe the churchies, I thought.

About the Author

Steve Schatz writes with a crazy mashup of laughs and excitement and humor. Readers can’t stop reading, but don’t want the story to end. Each book is an adventure where endearing anti-heroes struggle against this crazy world and triumph using the twin forces of intentional, creative action and friends helping friends.  Schatz draws on a lifetime of varied and fascinating experiences, from instructional designer and college prof to party clown and nightclub owner.

His series of adult fiction highlights a group of middle-aged gay friends who gather every week in a small, Indiana college town. Mixing drinks, snappy repartee, and the humor and joy of long-time friends, in one book they rescue the fair drag queen from an obvious miscreant. In another, they ride to the protection of a lesbian candidate for judge who is being targeted by mysterious evil-doers. The excitement reveals itself against a backdrop of drag performance and efforts by anti-heroes. You’ll laugh. You’ll cry. You’ll beg for more. Steve Schatz offers a new voice and a smile for the LGBT community and their friends.

Author Links

Blog/Website  |   Twitter: @AnySummerSunday

Facebook  |   Newsletter sign-up

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an ebook of each of the 3 books in the series

(Any Summer Sunday, Who Plugged the Dyke, and Seashell Virgin)

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

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: Dancing Before the Crash

Author:  C.C. Everill

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

Cover Artist:  Barbara Gottlieb (gottgraphix.com)

Release Date: April 25, 2021

Genre: Memoir

Trope: Friends and lovers

Themes: Gay life 1977-1989

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length:  72 388 words/386 pages

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

Goodreads

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

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

Blurb

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

Excerpt 

Sunday, April 26, 1981

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

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

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

What a surprise! I accepted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Invitation accepted.

About the Author

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

Author Links

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