New Release – Finding His Boy by K. D. Ryan #KindleUnlimited

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Finding His Boy (An MM Age Gap Daddy Romance)

Author: K. D. Ryan

Publisher: Self-Published

Cover Artist: K. D. Ryan 

Release Date:  March 25, 2021

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance 

Tropes: Age Gap, Slow Burn, Daddy Kink

Themes: Self-confidence, Trust, Exploring Sexuality 

Heat Rating:  5 flames

Length:  96 000 words

It is the first book in the series – Safe Harbor #1

Add on Goodreads

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited 

Amazon US   |   Amazon UK   |   Amazon AUS 

A lonely Daddy. An innocent boy. A twenty-year age gap. Whatever happens next is in Daddy’s hands. 

Blurb

Finding his way in life all on his own hadn’t been easy for eighteen-year-old Elliot Hedrick, but he’d managed to hold it all together so far. 

Even though it was just by the skin of his teeth. 

Between his warehouse job and pursuing a career as a professional ballet dancer, he’d been working sixteen-hour days and was still barely making ends meet. 

He was fraying at the seams. And he was so damn lonely.

There was nobody for him to lean on, nobody to come to his rescue when things fell apart—it was all up to him to achieve his dreams.

Then suddenly Grant Weston charged into Elliot’s life, his knight in shining armor—literally and figuratively—and despite their twenty-year age gap, Grant couldn’t seem to leave the boy alone. Even though Grant knew he should.

There were too many obstacles between them—and not just their ages. Grant had secrets of his own, ghosts from his past that made him hold back from taking what he really wanted from Elliot. 

And what Grant wanted was to make Elliot his boy. 

To have a true partner.

But Grant was afraid to trust himself—afraid that history would repeat itself and leave him with a broken heart yet again.

 Is age really just a number, or will the years between them end their relationship before it can even start? 

Finding His Boy is the first book in a duet taking place in the Safe Harbor universe but can be read as a stand-alone and has an HFN ending. This book is a 90+K word slow burn, steamy romance that features a Daddy/boy relationship between two consenting adult men. No age play. Dual POV. There are explicit descriptions of sexual acts, so this book is intened for a mature audience (18+). 

Trigger Warning: On-page physical assault (not between MCs), mention of sexual assault. 

Excerpt 

Grant knew he should pull back, he should close the door—that would be the smart thing to do. He should be respectful of Elliot’s privacy. 

Because if he crossed this line, there would be no going back—all of his noble rationalizing about not taking advantage of Elliot’s vulnerability would be out the window. 

But fuck, the boy was incredibly gorgeous—the planes of his slim muscular body highlighted in a soft blue glow from the moon, his face a study in shadow and light. He looked so young, so vulnerable, and so ripe for the taking. Exposed, ready for Grant to sink his teeth into the pale expanse of flesh on display, to mark Elliot as his. 

If Grant stepped further into the room now—and he wanted to, oh he’d never wanted anything so badly in his life, he could taste the wanting like metal on his tongue—where would that choice bring them? 

Because the boy had no clue what Grant wanted to do to him. 

He couldn’t know how Grant wanted to use him. To flay him wide open with word and action and touch, and pick apart the soft tender insides of him, to leave him wanting and vulnerable and his. To deliver the safety and comfort and pleasure that his boy craved and that only he—Grant—could give.

Grant’s own possession. 

His boy. 

Those words—his boy—they acted like a bucket of cold water—a wave of uncertainty and apprehension to temporarily subdue his lust. Was this just history repeating itself? Would Elliot realize a year down the line that Grant couldn’t give him what he wanted, and Grant would be left high and dry once again? 

Could Grant risk his heart like that again? The thought of sharing that experience with someone, only for his heart to be trampled, handled carelessly, and discarded…  

He should leave now, back out and pretend he’d never been here. Just leave and act like nothing had changed the next day. Leave this beautiful boy whole and innocent and let someone else break him in gently, softly, like he deserved. Someone he could grow with, change with, learn with. 

Fuck, he was a coward. 

But then

But then Elliot opened his eyes. And he parted his lips. And he kept on pumping his hand up and down as he locked his eyes with Grant’s, his heated gaze burning with open desire. 

Desire for Grant. 

And Grant knew he couldn’t walk away.

About the Author 

Just a dreamer fueled by coffee who’s been writing about love that comes in all forms since she got her first word processor. Passionate bibliophile and lover of science, caretaker of humans and friend to dogs. 

Social Media Links

Facebook   |   Facebook Author Page  |  Instagram 

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

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

Series Review Tour – Death’s Embrace by H.L. Moore #giveaway

SERIES REVIEW TOUR

Death’s Embrace Series by H.L. Moore

Series Blurb

Doran had a problem, and it wasn’t that he’d been stabbed.

Doran Ó Seanáin, leader of the Black Lung Gang and former Foreman of the mines, is at war with Iole’s City’s tyrannical ruler for his brutal treatment of the miners. Doran is losing, badly, and he fears his relationship with his estranged daughter Grace will never heal following the death of his wife two years prior.

Nathaniel Morgenstern, an apotheker with a mysterious past to whom Doran owes his life, seems to offer salvation. But Nathaniel has secrets of his own that may just tear them apart before they have a chance to give in to each other. 

The stories are best read in order.

BOOK DETAILS

BOOK 1

Book Title: Heart of Dust

Author: H. L. Moore

Publisher: Self- Published

Cover Artist: Designed by Damonza

Length: 59 000 words / 250 pages

Release Date: February 19, 2018

Genre: Fantasy M/M Romance

Trope: Slow Burn

Themes: Revolution, Addiction

Heat Rating: 2 flames

It is book 1 in the series.

Goodreads

Buy Links 

Special offer – Heart of Dust reduced to 99c for a limited time

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

Kobo  |  Abbey’s

Doran had a problem, and it wasn’t that he’d been stabbed.

Blurb 

Iole City is in turmoil. Doran Ó Seanáin, leader of the Black Lung Gang, is determined to bring the Lord Archon – Iole’s tyrannical ruler – down for his brutal treatment of the miners. But Doran has more to deal with than getting stabbed, a stalemate and city-wide lockdown that’s seeing his gang of ex-miners being slowly starved out of their base – his daughter Grace has turned against him, and the weight of his wife’s death two years prior haunts them both.

Things start to look up when he’s inexplicably drawn to Nathaniel Morgenstern, the apotheker with a mysterious past he owes his life to, but Doran is in way over his head. The fate of the mines hangs in the balance; the clock is ticking and the Archon is closing in. Doran’s plan to break the cycle may very well be his last.

Excerpt

Heart of Dust

Everything hurt.

This wasn’t out of the ordinary; Doran was accustomed to waking up any given morning with his head aching, his body bruised, his feet swollen, his bones fractured and muscles torn. But this time he couldn’t move, not even to open his eyes. He dimly wondered if he was hungover.

He felt someone prodding at his body. He grunted and forced his eyes open, regretting it immediately at the resulting implosion of pain in his head.

The culprit was a young man – a child, really – who yelped and jumped backwards with wide eyes, clutching a bandage.

“Sir?” the boy called out, over his shoulder. Doran flinched, the sound reverberating through his skull, and clenched his eyes shut again. “Sir, he’s waking up.”

“Leave us.”

The boy’s voice responded. “But –”

“Gerald.”

A heavy sigh. “Yes, sir.”

He could hear murmuring somewhere in the background but he couldn’t focus on the words. Instead he let the subtle but heady scent of pinewood and elderflower calm his aching mind. 

There were light footsteps – the boy, Gerald – shuffling indignantly up a staircase somewhere to the right, then there was nothing but the sound of his own breathing.

His mind was so sluggish that an eon and a half had passed by the time he felt a cool glass press gently against his lower lip. A strong hand moved under the back of his head to guide him up. He managed a few sips of sweet, crystalline water. It tasted like it was sent from Lady Sionann herself to soothe his parched and aching mouth.

Doran swallowed, then gulped. Water spilled from his hungry lips and the glass was pulled away. He protested, or tried to, but the hand supporting his head guided him back down. 

He realised he was lying on a table. It wasn’t hard enough to be stone, or cold enough to be metal. He could feel the grains of smooth wood beneath the tips of his fingers and against his skin, and his head rested on something soft. A jacket, perhaps, or even a pillow. 

Consciousness filtered back to him, not quickly enough for his liking. Finally he managed to pry his eyes open.

The man leaning over him couldn’t have been more than a few years older than Doran, in his early forties perhaps, but if Doran thought he carried his own age badly, this man outrivalled him. 

The stranger’s brown hair was peppered grey, completely silver at the temples; his face was hard, weathered and lined from years of trauma or poor life choices. A scar extended from the corner of his right eye to the middle of his cheek, destroying any chance of symmetry. Doran couldn’t call him good-looking, not by a long shot, but there was something incredibly striking about his features, in an offensive sort of way.

Doran swallowed thickly. “How long…” he tried to say, the words coming out in a harsh whisper.

“All night.”

The man had a low, coarse voice, like a miner after years of inhaling cigarette smoke and coal dust, but his words were soft.

“Shit.” Doran pushed himself to a sitting position. “What time is it?”

“Early, still,” the man replied, pressing his hand to Doran’s shoulder. His hand was bound in a black band of mourning, not unlike the one Doran wore around his upper arm. “Move slowly. You don’t want to tear those stitches.”

“Stitches –?” 

Doran glanced down at himself, and his memory of the previous day flooded back in an instant. 

His hand found his side, and instead of a gaping wound his fingers met a firm bandage. He also couldn’t help but notice a distinct lack of blood and – apart from his underwear – clothing.

“…You helped me,” Doran said.

“You were bleeding all over my doorstep.”

“Ah. Apologies.”

The man grunted, though whether this was in dismay or to brush off the apology, Doran couldn’t tell. “Stab wounds do that. You’re lucky it wasn’t deeper.”

Doran thought of Rhian, bleeding to death in his arms while their daughter wept. “Yeah,” he echoed. “Lucky.”

The man moved away, then returned with a bowl of steaming broth and two slices of bread. Doran accepted the meal gratefully. The broth was hot but not enough to burn his tongue. He found himself draining the bowl with desperate gulps, then attacking the bread like a starving wolf. It was better than anything he’d eaten in moons. The bread was warm and fresh, and he used it to soak up the last of the salt and rosemary broth from the bowl. 

The man offered Doran a bundle of clothes when he was done.

“These should fit you,” he said, passing them over. “I had to burn yours.”

Doran’s heart seized, a spike of pure panic gripping his body. His hand shot to his chest to clutch for the chain around his neck, calming only when his fingers curled around the locket. He exhaled.

The man’s head tilted at the sudden movement, a small frown creasing his brow as the flash of bronze caught his eye, but the locket vanished underneath the shirt Doran hastily pulled over his body.

“Thanks.” Doran swung his legs over the edge of the table, wincing when he moved too quickly. 

“I’d tell you not to engage in strenuous activity for at least a week, but I doubt you’ll listen and the Archon won’t care,” the man said. “Try not to reopen the wound when you’re working the mines.”

That told Doran two things – there had been no revolution, and the mines were still open.

He swallowed his disappointment. “What makes you think I’m a miner?”

“Hands.”

Doran glanced down at his hands, the cuticles of his nails and the skin of his palms permanently stained black. He clenched his calloused fists together and tried to keep his tone non-committal. “I hear it’s a hard life.”

“One I don’t envy.”

BOOK 2

Book Title: Soul of Ash

Author: H. L. Moore

Publisher: Self-Published

Cover Artist: Designed by Damonza

Length:  85 000 words/ 336 pages

Release Date: September 2020

Genre/s: Fantasy M/M Romance

Trope/s: Slow Burn

Themes: Addiction, Dark Pasts, Atonement, Forgiveness

Heat Rating: 2 flames

Goodreads

Buy Links – reduced to USD$4.99 for a limited time

Amazon US  |   Amazon UK

Kobo  |  Abbey’s

You can run, but you will never be free.

Blurb 

Half a year after the events of Heart of Dust, Doran Ó Seanáin now finds himself trapped between two worlds while belonging to neither. Held in contempt by the upper class for the turmoil he caused during Archon Bryson’s reign and resented by the miners for selling out, Leonora Darkwater’s bid to purchase the mines from the crown may be his salvation. But the offer is far more complicated than it appears, and the only person Doran trusts is the same man who threw his life into chaos.

Haunted by his past, held hostage by his debt to the Archon, and a slave to the poison that keeps him alive, atonement feels perpetually out of reach for Nathaniel Morgenstern. Too much damage has been done and too much has gone unsaid for time alone to heal the wounds between him and Doran.

Unfortunately, time is the one thing they don’t have as their lives collide once more. There are vipers in Arajon; the mines aren’t finished with Doran, and the sand in Nathaniel’s hourglass is running out.

Excerpt

Soul of Ash

He was led down a mining shaft illuminated by coal-lit lamps, until they began pushing through a crowd of murmuring men and women held back by other miners. As Lien and Nathaniel were permitted to pass, he heard a hoarse, slightly damaged voice murmuring reassurances beside a derailed dumper tractor raised off the ground by a few metal supporting bars. 

“Just hold on,” he heard Doran saying, from where he knelt beside the tractor. “He’ll be here any moment –” 

“Doran,” Lien said. 

Doran turned. 

The past few months had seen Nathaniel frequent the mines to deliver his wares or receive miners in his shop where he would be asked to render assistance. Trivial things, usually – scrapes and cuts, the occasional broken bone or beginnings of black lung. But since that day in winter, Doran himself had not returned to the shop, nor had Nathaniel seen Doran in the mines, no doubt by design. 

“Good, you’re here,” Doran said when he saw Nathaniel. It was a warmer welcome than Nathaniel had expected or hoped for. “Can you help her?” 

On the sooty ground, a woman, with half of her right leg pinned under the full weight of the truck, groaned. 

If a woman’s leg been crushed under a truck in the glistening streets of the Bronze, the citizens would probably have thrown up or fainted or run away screaming. At the back of the cavern, the doctor was surrounded by men and women of the mines. They didn’t flinch at the horror scene that was her crushed leg; they’d seen worse. By the looks on their faces, most didn’t expect a happy outcome. 

“I’d say good morning,” Nathaniel said as he too knelt beside the doctor, “but you don’t seem to be having one.” 

The doctor had dark skin, betraying her as a member of the upper classes like the Harringtons, whose ancestors had emigrated not from the Valley but from the equatorial nations of Pontecorvo and Kedrossos, south of Vaison. She wore a circlet bracelet depicting the Lady Sionann, like many of the descendants of secular immigrants who’d made their fortunes did, embracing the culture of Arajon and generating both prosperity and poverty, while earning the disdain of the Valley population who clung to the old ways out of tradition or spite.  

The doctor assessed Nathaniel as he set his bag down and pulled out the sterile cloths and alcohol.  

“I don’t recognise this man,” she said to Doran, one hand braced against the tractor looming over her head, the other gripping the thigh of her right leg. Sweat beaded on her clammy forehead. “I know every person who has – nngh – passed through medicine at the Conservatorium. Who is this?” 

“This is Nathaniel Morgenstern,” Doran replied. “He’s an apotheker in Methyr – the one who produces our remedies. He’s the closest thing to a healer we could find, given the urgency.” 

“Morgenst— an apotheker?” the doctor spat. She arched her neck to glower at Doran through her tears of pain. “You’ve b-brought me some Helvetian herbalist! Are you mad? Those backwards fools didn’t even learn how to wipe their asses until a century ago!” 

She was oddly coherent for a woman whose leg was currently crushed under a tractor. 

“My mother had surgical training in Haderach,” Nathaniel said. “Her people discovered hygiene thousands of years ago. You’ll live.” 

If anything, the doctor’s expression turned fouler. “A mev,” she muttered.  

Doran’s hand clamped down hard on his shoulder. 

“Mr Morgenstern is here to save your life,” he said, tersely. “Adrian, bring Doctor Lancaster some water.” 

The one named Adrian scurried away. 

Nathaniel felt Doran’s eyes burning into his shoulders as he examined what he could of the crushed leg under the twisted metal of the tractor. He cut the pant fabric from around Lancaster’s knee, and prodded his finger into the exposed flesh of the leg just below the kneecap, avoiding the bone jutting out like shards. There was no return of blood to her dark skin, and the doctor didn’t jerk with pain. 

No blood flow. No feeling. The leg below the knee was as good as dead. 

“Well?” Doran asked quietly. 

Nathaniel shook his head. Doran uttered a soft swear. 

“It would be better if the truck could be lifted so I can remove the limb safely,” Nathaniel said. “This area isn’t sterile.” 

“We tried,” Doran said. “It’s too dangerous. The whole thing could collapse on her and crush her in an instant. She needs to be freed first before we can safely dismantle it.” 

“All right.” 

“How long will the procedure take?” Doran asked. 

Nathaniel tilted his head at Lancaster. “Forty-odd years ago, the barber-surgeons in the Helvetic would hold down a patient and hack off their limb in thirty seconds. This was before numbing agents had been introduced, of course – time was of the essence for the patients, to minimise the pain so they wouldn’t go into shock. The wound would then be cauterised with either hot iron or boiling oil.” 

“You barbarian,” Lancaster choked, “don’t you dare.” 

Barbarian. That was a new one. 

Surgery wasn’t his forte. He hadn’t lied – he could amputate limbs. In his time, he’d successfully amputated both limbs and heads, though the appendages usually belonged to different people and certainly hadn’t been for the purpose of saving their lives. If one was strictly speaking about life-saving amputation, his mother had taught him the technique and guided his hand through the procedure.  

On cadavers. 

When he was twelve. 

“I can do it that quickly,” Nathaniel said, “but you’ll either bleed to death or die of shock. Caution over speed is preferable. Do you want to be unconscious, or numbed?” 

“Numbed,” Lancaster said. “You have done this before, haven’t you?” 

“Six times.” 

“How many of your patients died?” 

Nathaniel pulled out Professor Kaufman’s tome on Human Anatomy and Physiology from his bag and opened it to the chapter on amputation techniques. “They were all already dead.” 

About the Author

H.L. is an Australian writer of LGBT+ fiction. She holds a Master of Arts in International Relations (2015) and a Bachelor of Media in Communications and Journalism (2012), both from the University of New South Wales.


She is a lesbian of Jewish and Middle Eastern (Egyptian) heritage, and is an #OwnVoices writer. She has been writing stories since she was old enough to hold a pen. She is the author of M/M fantasy romance novels Heart of Dust and Soul of Ash, Books 1 & 2 of the Death’s Embrace series.

She has had two short stories published: “The Collector” in the 2014 Future Times Award Collection A Tick Tock Heart, and “Entente” in the 2020 Twisted Stories Award Collection Just Alice.

Author Links

Blog/Website  |  Tumblr  |   Facebook  

Twitter  |   BookBub  |  Goodreads

Giveaway

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win 

one of three ebook copies of Heart of Dust and Soul of Ash

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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

New Release – Hide to Seek (London Lies 2) by CF White #KindleUnlimited #giveaway

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Hide to Seek (London Lies 2)

Author and Publisher: CF White

Cover Artist: Ethereal Designs 

Release Date: September 30, 2020 

Genre/s: Contemporary M/M Romantic Suspense 

Trope/s: Enemies to lovers, slow burn 

Themes: Hurt/Comfort 

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length:  76 000 words/ 318 pages

It is not a standalone story.

Goodreads 


Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link  |  Amazon US  |   Amazon UK 


Lust fuelled attraction is easy to ignore.

An emotional connection is harder to deny. 

Blurb

Jackson Young has gone into hiding. Fighting to get his name cleared and his truth heard, he’s followed Fletcher Doherty to Ireland for a safe haven from those who want to silence his story.

As they work on Jackson’s biography, their growing attraction gets harder resist. Fletcher’s made it clear though—their professional boundary isn’t to be crossed, especially with so many loose threads from each of their pasts left hanging.

But as he learns more about the once coveted celebrity’s rise to fame, and the manipulation and control that came with it, Fletcher finds it increasingly difficult to distance himself from their intimate moments. Lust fuelled attraction is easy to ignore, but an emotional connection is harder to deny.

Surrounded by Fletcher’s meddling family, and ex boyfriends who still harbour feelings of being jilted, Jackson has to play the part of his lifetime. Can he prove that he does have talent and win Fletcher’s heart as well as his trust?

And can he do it all before their idyllic hideaway is compromised?

Hide to Seek is the second book in the London Lies trilogy and is a slow burn, hurt/comfort, romantic suspense series.


Excerpt 

Jackson joined him at the edge of the boat as the land disappeared into the murky water that sloshed up against the stern. He didn’t say anything. Neither did Fletcher. Their silence wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t comfortable either. It was a shared moment of reflection. Of knowing this could be the only peace they might have in a long while. A three-hour ferry ride from Holyhead to Dublin on international waters meant they couldn’t be found yet. They’d managed to get through ID control without any real problems. For how many times Fletcher had done this journey, he knew the ferry border control wasn’t as meticulous in checking details as the airlines would be. It was why across water was the only way. And they needed to breathe in this sanctuary while they still could. Fletcher wasn’t sure what awaited them in Ireland. He had apprehensions about going home, about bringing Jackson Young and all that came with him, to his family. But where else could they go?

So they shared a silent agreement to just stand, stare and be.

Until Jackson broke it with an intrepid inhale and a twist of his body to face him. “We should talk,” he said through the gust of howling wind.

“Should we?” Fletcher kept his gaze forward. Or backward as it were. 

“This thing.” Jackson flapped a hand between them, his fingertips brushing Fletcher’s arm. “Us. We should probably acknowledge it.”

Fletcher breathed in, his chest rising, and slapped the railing to stand straighter. He closed his eyes, then opened them but kept his gaze on the distant horizon and not on the man beside him who was conjuring up feelings he didn’t want to concede to. Not then. Not when there was so much else left to learn between them.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Jackson slid his hand onto Fletcher’s cheek, demanding he look at him. A hand that stayed there a moment too long, with blue eyes delving into his soul and a soft thumb brushing along his yearning lips.

“You do, do ye?” 

Jackson removed his hand and Fletcher’s cheek tinged with the heat left behind, but the flecks of ice cold seawater carried up by fierce winds slapped his skin and soon wiped the warmth away. 

“You think this is too complicated to deal with now. That we need to focus on the book. On ourselves. On hiding. That’s why you left me down there, isn’t it? You can’t face me.”

“What did you think? This would be a romantic mini break?”  

“I think we need to acknowledge there’s something going on. We can’t ignore it. I spent my life ignoring what was in front of me and look what happened.” Jackson threw his hands in the air, indicating their current situation.

“I’m not ignoring you, Jax. There’s no time for us. You want this truth out, then we’re gonna have to prioritise.”

Jackson hung his head, the disappointment and hurt seeping off his deflating body. But Fletcher couldn’t do this. He couldn’t rebound so quickly again. Time after time he’d done that, and each time had hurt worse than before to the point he couldn’t trust his feelings anymore. Nor could he trust that Jackson wasn’t clinging onto anything that would save him. How could this be real? How could either of them think that this could be something? 

“I can be friends.” Fletcher made a concerted effort to keep his voice low, neutral, soothing. “Neither of us are ready for romance.”

Jackson breathed through a smile. “Are you an old romantic, Mr Doherty?” 

“Aye. I am.” Fletcher wrapped his jacket around him, arms folding. It was to stave off the blustering wind chill but also, maybe, to act as the physical barrier to coincide with the one he built up with every wretched word he spoke. “I don’t jump into bed at the first sign of attraction. So when I said, let’s see what happens, I meant it.” He sniffed as the ferry dipped and swayed, aiming for the open arms of Dublin port. “But first things first, we have to get you off this ferry as Cameron Dale.”


About the Author 

Brought up in a relatively small town in Hertfordshire, C F White managed to do what most other residents try to do and fail—leave.

Studying at a West London university, she realised there was a whole city out there waiting to be discovered, so, much like Dick Whittington before her, she never made it back home and still endlessly search for the streets paved with gold, slowly coming to the realisation they’re mostly paved with chewing gum. And the odd bit of graffiti. And those little circles of yellow spray paint where the council point out the pot holes to someone who is supposedly meant to fix them instead of staring at them vacantly whilst holding a polystyrene cup of watered-down coffee.

She eventually moved West to East along that vast District Line and settled for pie and mash, cockles and winkles and a bit of Knees Up Mother Brown to live in the East End of London; securing a job and creating a life, a home and a family.

After her second son was born with a rare disability, C F White’s life changed and brought pen back to paper having written stories as a child but never the confidence to show them to the world. Now, having embarked on this writing journey, she can’t stop. So strap in, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.  


Follow C F White 

Twitter @CFWhiteUK  |  Facebook  |  Blog

Instagram  |  Newsletter Sign-up


Giveaway 

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

an ebook box set of The District Line trilogy

a Rafflecopter giveaway



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

New Release – Forgiven (Heaven and Hell Club Book 3) by Colette Davison #giveaway #KindleUnlimited

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Forgiven (Heaven and Hell Club Book 3)

Author and Publisher: Colette Davison

Cover Artist: Colette Davison

Release Date: September 17, 2020

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance

Trope/s: Hurt/comfort, slow burn, first time bi-sexual, 

found family, tattoos, and piercings.

Themes: Self forgiveness, sins of the father, fresh starts

Heat Rating:  3 flames

Length: 60 669 words

It’s the third book in the series but can be read as a standalone

Goodreads


Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 


Can love and acceptance help Callum forgive himself?

Blurb

Callum’s past haunts him and he’s desperate for a fresh start. When his uncle takes him in and the manager of the Heaven and Hell Club gives him a chance, things might be looking up.

Then he meets Dylan—a cocky, make-up wearing twink who challenges all his assumptions about himself. 

Getting to know each other changes everything, as they give each other the love and acceptance they’ve both craved throughout their lives. But will it be enough to ease their doubts, heal their wounds, and allow them to have their own happy ever after?

Forgiven is the third book in the Heaven and Hell Club series. It’s a hurt/comfort romance, with a slow burn relationship, a bi-sexual awakening, tattoos, and piercings in interesting places. It can be read as a standalone, but works better as part of the series.

Content warning: homophobic parents


Excerpt 

Callum didn’t move until he heard the door shut, then he started the level again. It was easier now that he was alone. His inhibitions dropped away from him and he focused on slicing his beams of light through the coloured blocks. He’d selected easy mode, which was fun but not a challenge. He managed to hit every block the second time through the song, so upped the difficulty level.

He had to move his body a little more on standard mode. The blocks came faster, the patterns were slightly harder. As they were more in time to the music, it actually made the level easier. He had to stretch to hit blocks when they were right at the sides or up high.

He upped the difficulty again and found himself moving even more—only to reach the blocks, he wasn’t actually dancing or anything. The pace of the blocks was almost frantic, and he quickly bombed out of the level. He tried again and again, quickly losing track of time as he became determined to get to the end of the level. Once he’d finished it, he set himself a goal to hit all the blocks in the right direction.

He wasn’t sure how many times he played it through. Being within the virtual world meant he was completely absorbed in what he was doing. He’d worked up a sweat, his heart beat faster and adrenaline made him buzz. He’d learnt the words to the song and was singing along to it. He was moving more now, his body reacting to the music as well as the blocks that flew at him. It was fun.

It was only when his stomach rumbled that he wondered how long he’d been playing. When he got to the end of the level, he stopped and carefully took off the headset. Dylan was sitting on the sofa. Callum glanced around, but there were no pizza boxes in sight. He hadn’t smelt any food either, but he’d needed to be sure.

“You never left, did you?”

Dylan shrugged. “You look like you’ve been having fun.”

Callum scowled. “You tricked me.”

“Maybe, but it gave you the freedom to let loose, didn’t it?”

Callum stared at the headset in his hands.

“I told you the game would get you moving.”

“I still can’t dance.”

“You should have seen yourself, darling. You’ve got a good sense of rhythm and some moves.”



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

a Rafflecopter giveaway



Follow the tour and check out the otherblog posts and reviews here



New Release – Fade to Blank (London Lies # 1) by C F White #KindleUnlimited #giveaway

BLOG TOUR

Book Title: Fade to Blank (London Lies # 1)

Author: C F White

Publisher: Self-published 

Cover Artist: Rhys Everly-Lawless 

Genre/s: Contemporary M/M Romantic Suspense 

Trope/s: Slow burn, hurt/comfort 

Themes: Enemies to lovers, Revenge, Secrets, Mystery

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length: 78 000 words/ 280 pages 

It’s the first book in a new series.

Book 2 is coming later in the year. Book 1 ends on a HFN for the couple.

Goodreads

 

Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

 

A celebrity accused of murder. A writer needing his big break. The lies that tie them together.  

Blurb

Accused of a murder he didn’t commit, vilified celebrity Jackson Young enlists the help of a rookie journalist to clear his name and write his biography.

Jackson has a secret though. One he must keep from becoming public. But Fletcher’s dreamy green eyes, Irish drawl and effortless charm makes it hard to suppress those long-buried feelings, even if it could compromise his innocence. 

Uncovering the murky past behind Jackson’s rise to fame, Fletcher grows closer to a man he’d once declared as talentless, and their intense attraction starts to affect not only his professional integrity but the life he’d made since moving to London.

Falling for the subject of his book could be fatal for Fletcher, and Jackson should know better than to trust a journalist.

Fade to Blank is the first book in the London Lies trilogy set in 1999, and is a slow burn, enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort romantic suspense.

 

Excerpt 

Fletcher drew troubled eyebrows in. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Okay? Okay?” Jackson breathed out a laugh that was more a release of pent up anguish. He’d always been taught to laugh in the face of adversity. He hadn’t been able to do much of that lately. Any flicker of amusement seeping out when in Flaymore would only have been captured by an inmate wanting a name for himself and used against him in the media. He rubbed his stinging eyes. “My girlfriend is dead. Someone strangled her whilst I was passed out in the other room. The world thinks I did it. I’ve spent six months inside because I wasn’t granted bail. This morning I wasn’t told that I was free because they believed I didn’t do it. They just couldn’t prove that I did. I can’t quite see how I would be okay after all that. Do you?”

Perhaps that was too blunt. Too much, too soon? Perhaps all this seeking the truth was coming across more selfish than he’d anticipated. It was. But the world was pointing at him. So he needed to prove his innocence to force people to look at who might have killed her, instead of allowing them to tie the noose around his neck.

And on that thought, his heart almost stopped. So the desperation kicked in. “I need you. Your help.”

Fletcher softened before him. “Okay,” he said. “Go on. Why would I, the fella you tried to knock out due to one bad review, want to write another article about you?”

“I want more than an article. And you’ll have a ready and waiting readership for this. It’ll rocket you to a fortune you never knew existed.”

“Wind your neck in, lad, that’s a touch arrogant there.”

“Arrogance doesn’t equal guilt.” Jackson leapt up from leaning against his bike, new found energy resumed. “Nor does it equal untalented.”

Fletcher glanced away, flicking his gaze back just as quick. “What are you talking here, then? A featured piece?”

Jackson forced a smile. “A full exposé of Jackson Young and why he isn’t the man he’s been depicted as in the media of late.”

“So this is all about you? Not… Tallulah?”

Jackson sucked in a breath at her name. It still stabbed at his heart, strangled his chest, erupted bile into his throat. He wondered if it would ever stop.

Scrubbing fingers across his perspiring forehead, Jackson had to find the right way to explain what he needed. What he had to do before it was too late and this was all hidden under the carpet as so many of the lies and manipulations already had been. He wasn’t sure how far he should go. How much he should admit he knew. There was the whole story. And there was his story. 

“I was arrested for something I didn’t do,” he settled on. “I’ve been painted in the media as a monster. Pretty much all my friends and family have abandoned me because they believe people like you.”

“People like me?”

“People with the ability to write words and print them for the public to read, to believe and to act upon.”

“I never wrote about what happened to her. I’ve avoided talking about you, or her, since.”

“I know. Now I want you to.”

Jackson waited for the faint glimmer of understanding to work its way across Fletcher’s face. He had to know this would be the ultimate scoop for him. A writer, a journalist, a gossip columnist…whatever the man claimed to be, if he took this opportunity he could retire.

“I don’t write news. I write…gossip.” It sounded a lot like he hated to say that word, and his gaze blinked away from Jackson toward the glass frontage of London Lights HQ.

“I don’t want you to write for a paper. I don’t want this to be news, or gossip. This is the truth. My truth.”

“I’m not sure my editor will buy into it.” Fletcher sighed. “And if she did, she’d pass it onto the more seasoned journalists.”

“I don’t want your editor. I don’t want this in your poxy magazine.” Jackson spat the word, nodding toward the office block in contempt. He wanted nothing to do with any of that. Especially not London Lights. “This has got to be independent.”

“I don’t understand. I thought you wanted an exposé?”

Jackson stepped forward, a hair’s breadth from Fletcher, so close he could taste the man’s coffee breath. “Ever want to write something different? Something good. Something that could make a name for yourself away from the trash rags? Don’t you want to see your name on a shelf?”

“What type of shelf?”

“A book shelf. I want you to write my biography. So if you ever wanted your fortune handed on a plate, Fletcher Doherty…” Jackson held out his arms. “It’s here.”

 

 

About the Author 

Brought up in a relatively small town in Hertfordshire, C F White managed to do what most other residents try to do and fail—leave.

Studying at a West London university, she realised there was a whole city out there waiting to be discovered, so, much like Dick Whittington before her, she never made it back home and still endlessly search for the streets paved with gold, slowly coming to the realisation they’re mostly paved with chewing gum. And the odd bit of graffiti. And those little circles of yellow spray paint where the council point out the pot holes to someone who is supposedly meant to fix them instead of staring at them vacantly whilst holding a polystyrene cup of watered-down coffee.

She eventually moved West to East along that vast District Line and settled for pie and mash, cockles and winkles and a bit of Knees Up Mother Brown to live in the East End of London; securing a job and creating a life, a home and a family.

After her second son was born with a rare disability, C F White’s life changed and brought pen back to paper having written stories as a child but never the confidence to show them to the world. Now, having embarked on this writing journey, she can’t stop. So strap in, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.  

 

Follow C F White 

Twitter @CFWhiteUK  |  Facebook  |  Blog

Instagram  |  Newsletter Sign-up

 

 

 

Giveaway 

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway to win

a full ebook box set of The District Line novels

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

 

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

 

Audiobook Review Tour – SYN Consulting: Dragon War Chronicles Book 1 by A.G. Carothers

AUDIOBOOK REVIEW TOUR

Book Title: SYN Consulting: Dragon War Chronicles Book 1

Author: A.G. Carothers

Publisher: A.G. Carothers

Narrator: Michael Ferraiuolo

Release Date: August 17, 2018; Audiobook: July 9, 2020

Genre: Urban Fantasy/Paranormal

Trope/s: Slow Burn, Friends to lovers,   

Themes: Conspiracies, Secret Wars, Hidden Societies,

Multiple Relationships Tied Together

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 6 hours 22 minutes

The story ends in a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

 

Buy Links

Audible US  |   Audible UK  |  Amazon US   |  Amazon UK

Continue to hide or help save the very kin she’s hidden from?

Blurb 

Continue to hide or help save the very kin she’s hidden from?

Welcome to SYN Consulting, the top business strategy consulting firm in Europe, home to a motley crew whose leader has a life changing secret. CEO, Danica Lestrange, is the first female dragon born in the last 800 years. Hidden from the rest of her kin and raised in the human world, she built a life that she would defend until her death.

A devious plan is unearthed while working on a new business deal that could plunge the dragons into another war with the humans. The humans may have forgotten the last dragon-human war, but the dragons have not. Will the war reveal this hidden world to the humans, or will the clans come together to defeat their enemies and maintain their anonymity?

Danica must gather her allies and help the very dragons she’s hidden from her whole life. She can only hope that she’ll be strong enough to protect her chosen family.

This is the first book in a new series about dragons who want nothing more than to live in peace, but refuse to be subjugated. In war there’s also love, and love is blind. Love doesn’t care about gender, race, species (in this case), or sexuality.

Attention: This book contains explicit sexual content between consenting adults. The sexual scenes are MM, MF, and MMF. There are romantic relationships depicted that are MM. There is also a high level of explicit language, snark, kink, and possibly bad puns and fart jokes.

This book ends in a cliffhanger.

Dragon War Chronicles is a continuous series. It is best read in order.

SYN Consulting

Secrets Revealed

First Strike

Dragon’s Hoard

The Honeymooners: A Dragon War Chronicles Novella (Coming Fall 2020)

Cold Revenge (Coming Fall 2020)

 

 

About the Author  

A.G. Carothers is actually a dragon very cleverly disguised as a human. They are a non-binary author of LGBTQIA Romance and Urban Fantasy, who enjoys writing original and entertaining stories. They are very excited to share the worlds they’ve created with you.


A.G. currently lives in Tennessee with their platonic life partner, who is not a dragon. They yearn to live back in Europe and will some day. In their spare time they are addicted to losing themselves in the lovely worlds created by other authors

A.G. is committed to writing the stories they see in their head without restrictions. Love is blind and doesn’t see gender, race, or sexuality.

 

Social Media Links

https://Link.Gallery/agcarothers

 

 

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

 

Series Review Tour – Serial Investigations by Rhiannon D’Averc #KindleUnlimited #giveaway

SERIES REVIEW TOUR

Serial Investigations by Rhiannon D’Averc

Serial Investigations follows a private detective duo, Will and Ram, through tricky cases, mortal danger, and the horror of (maybe) unrequited love for your best friend – with plenty of demons to battle along the way.

The stories need to be read in order.

Overall Heat Rating for the series: 2 flames

Goodreads Series Link 

Warning: All books contain depictions of alcoholism, anorexia, and violent crime/murder.

 

BOOK 1

Book Title: Bloodless

Length: 70 000 words/ 240 pages

Release Date: April 29, 2019

Genre/s: M/M Crime/thriller

Trope/s: Slow burn friends to lovers

Themes: Identity struggle, murder, unrequited love

Goodreads

Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

 How do you solve a murder…

… When you’re the prime suspect?

 Blurb

A body cut up into pieces and left in Highgate Wood. It sounds like the most exciting case that private detectives Ram and Will have had to deal with since leaving their FBI training and returning to London.

As each new body is piled up amongst the trees, the stakes get higher – and Serial Investigations London embraces their first real challenge.

But Ram’s lifestyle – staying out all days of the week, drinking too much, and having sex with a different man every night – soon catches up with him when the police realise there’s just one link that connects the bodies.

And it’s him.

Will faces a battle around the clock to prevent his best friend from being put away for life – and while the two of them face their own demons, there’s a secret hanging over their heads that might just bring it all crashing down.

If you’re a fan of BBC’s Luther, Jo Nesbo’s Harry Hole, or sharply witty gay men, you’ll love Serial Investigations. Jump into the action from the very beginning with Bloodless, the first book in a series you won’t dare to put down.

 

BOOK 2

Book Title: Blood Evidence

Length: 63 000 words/ 200 pages

Release Date: August 15, 2019

Genre/s: M/M Crime/thriller

Trope/s: Slow burn friends to lovers

Themes: Coming out, murder, unrequited love

Goodreads

Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

 A missing person’s case…

… A murder investigation?

Blurb

Private detectives Ram and Will got their name in the news by catching a high-profile serial killer, and now they’re getting more clients. When they’re hired to find a missing person, all they’re worried about is having to spend a night away from home. They go to check his last known sighting in Kent, staying in a quaint country inn.

Little do they expect that Serial Investigations London are about to get thrust into a new murder investigation – one that happens right under their noses.

A confession seems to solve the case, but is it genuine? With suspicions running high, the duo still have to find time to sniff out the whereabouts of their client – and avoid getting arrested themselves.

With Ram hitting the bottle harder than ever and Will fighting to stay in control, they might be about to lose more than just the case.

 

BOOK 3

Book Title: Blood Alcohol

Length: 60 000 words/ 173 pages

Release Date: November 30, 2019

Genre/s: M/M Crime/thriller

Trope/s: Slow burn friends to lovers

Themes: Coming out, murder, inner demons

Goodreads

Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

 A horrific torture case with a ticking clock.

All he can see is the bottle.

 Blurb

Private detectives Ram and Will thought they’d wrapped everything up when they found Ray Riley’s body in Sevenoaks. But it turns out that things aren’t what they seemed – and Riley may be the latest victim of a torture-happy murderous duo.

For the second time, Serial Investigations London are called in to assist as civilian consultants with DI Alex Heath’s team at the Met – but they have their own personal problems getting in the way of clear thinking.

Will has something to get off his chest, and it’s related to that kiss they shared – the one they both tried to forget. But Ram can’t stop drinking to push away the confusion, and this time he’s going to land himself in more trouble than ever before.

Can they get over their issues for long enough to stop another murder – or even keep themselves alive?

 

BOOK 4

Book Title: Blood Sucker

Length:   65 000 words/ 191 pages

Release Date: March 28, 2020

Genre/s: M/M Crime/thriller

Trope/s: Slow burn friends to lovers/misunderstandings

Themes: Conflict, murder, trust and loyalty

Goodreads

Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

 A dead body posted on social media.

A vampire stalking the streets of London?

 Blurb

Will and Ram’s private detective partnership seems to be unravelling. After they ended up sleeping together, the tension between them is at an all-time high – and the unsolved Simon Shystone case is haunting them and their police contacts.

DI Alex Heath normally wants their help, but when a murderer posts images of his victim on social media, the chase is on to trace his digital footprint. With his superiors breathing down his neck, he might not be able to bring Serial Investigations London in on one of the biggest cases of their career.

They should be focusing on the artist who seems to have disappeared without a trace from his home studio. Could his latest commission have something to do with it? And will they be able to handle finding another client turned up dead?

Things are spiralling out of control for Will and Ram – and this time, they might not have each other to rely on.

 

BOOK 5

Book Title: Blood Sport

Length:  164 pages

Release Date: June 30, 2020

Genre/s: M/M Crime/thriller

Trope/s: Slow burn friends to lovers/misunderstandings resolved

Themes: Murder, kidnap, vanquishing the big bad

Goodreads

Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

A copycat killer who knows every detail.
A locked room with no escape.

Blurb

Serial Investigations London is officially closed for business – with private detectives Will and Ram still not talking to one another after an explosive argument. Even when a copycat killer springs up, seemingly targeting only their own cases, they can’t see eye to eye.

Little wonder, given that they both have something more important on their minds. Someone knows about San Francisco – about the man who died on a rooftop at their feet. Who has discovered their deepest secret? And what will they do to keep it buried?

That’s when another mystery piles up on top of the rest: a traditional trope that every seasoned detective must face, the locked room. But this one has a deadly twist, and if they don’t come to terms with their differences and work together, one of them might not live to regret it.

Will and Ram face the most pressing and personal danger yet – but the question is, who’s behind it? And will they realise they’ve been set against one another before it’s too late?

If you’re a fan of BBC’s Luther, Jo Nesbo’s Harry Hole, or sharply witty gay men, you’ll love Serial Investigations. The story continues with Blood Sport, a nail-biting series of twists and turns that will have you questioning how they’ll ever survive.

 

Excerpt 

Bloodless – Chapter One

Unlocking the door to your new home for the first time is supposed to be exciting. I guess it was the jet-lag, but I couldn’t even force myself to smile as we walked in. Not even for Ram’s sake.

We crashed in hungover and out of it, the sparkling wine and whisky of the plane no longer seeming like such a good idea. I chose a bedroom and dragged my suitcases inside. It felt good to no longer have all of my worldly possessions attached to my person. Without the weight of my backpack on my shoulders, I could feel just how much strain the muscles had been under.

I found Ram still standing at the wide windows of the living room. He was looking out of the clean, fresh glass into the grey and drizzling London of December. It felt like a jolt to look out and see not palm trees, but old Victorian factories and blocks of flats as far as the eye could see.

But then again, no one has ever mistaken Whitechapel for California. It was always going to be a bit of a culture shock, coming back home again.

I shook him by the shoulder, trying to ignore the pit in my own stomach. Maybe if I could get him to snap out of this weary daze we had both fallen into, he would be able to wake me up in return.

“Ram?” I asked, after a moment. He simply swayed under the movement of my hand, like a doll. I wasn’t even sure he was actually looking out at anything.

He turned and looked at me when he heard his name. It was like he was looking at someone he didn’t recognise from a long distance away. If I had felt uneasy before, that expression made my scalp itch with worry. Of the two of us, Ram is the calm and centred one. Even when he’s so drunk he can barely walk, he doesn’t lose it. Not like me. But I’ve never seen him like this before.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he said, after a moment, seeming to rouse. He shrugged off my hand and walked away, leaving me stood watching the place where he had been stood watching. I felt like a sentinel. Something had left us behind and we were plunging into a bowl of cold water, too confused to even try to hold onto the side. I wondered if it would even wash away what we had on our hands.

I was alone, without the option of distracting myself by looking at him. The only thing I could do was to keep moving. I heard the sound of the shower turn on, and I guided my weary feet into my new room. It felt like midnight, but the sun wasn’t even at its midday apex. I went from task to task, like an automaton, letting the cogs turn by themselves to keep my mind empty. Suitcase unzipped; clothes pulled out; find hangers; one by one, up on the rail. Knick-knacks. Decorations. Picture frame.

The flat came furnished, but now I realised that on our hasty flight out of San Francisco we forgot to take a few things into account. The beds had mattresses, but no pillows or sheets. The drawers in the kitchen held no cutlery, crockery, or mugs for tea. Even if they did, there was no kettle, no bags of tea, no instant coffee machine.

I ran out of things to do but I had to find something. I stalked from room to room, tablet in hand, stabbing the pages of an online shopping site. Kettle — black, chrome, retro. Tea bags — Earl Grey, Caramel Rooibos, Herbal Blend. Bed set — plain blue, reverse check, king size. Next.

Ram’s room. Suitcases still locked, black leather bag slung onto bare mattress, leather jacket discarded next to it.

He wouldn’t mind. It’s not like we have any secrets from each other.

Or many, at least.

Open the suitcase (correctly guess the code on the lock). Take out clothes, one by one, to string them up on hangers and leave them waiting for him. Personal items. Books stacked by the bed. Jewellery case. Boots on the floor by the door. Leather jacket hung up last, finally, the only thing left untouched.

I wondered how long it must have been now.

A long time, surely, but all I could hear still was the water hitting the shower tray. Over and over, the same hiss in the same tone.

A long time for Ram to be in there, on his own, with those thoughts swirling around in his head.

With razors and scissors and other sharp things.

“Ram?” I shouted, pounding on the locked bathroom door.

Nothing but the sibilant hiss of the water.

I threw my shoulder into the door, felt it bounce back against me, sending a shockwave through from the impact. Again. The door rattled, the lock unable to give. Again. Again. As many times as it took, again, ignoring the flower of pain blooming out across my shoulder and back. Once more, and I was stumbling forward into the room, momentarily disorientated as the momentum carried me onwards.

The glass of the shower door was all steam, except for a patch near the bottom where the spray of the water was heavy enough to keep it clear. I saw his legs, sprawled across the floor, and I could barely breathe for the fear that I had realised too late.

I wrenched open the door and saw him, and for a moment I understood nothing. He was whole — yes. No blood. But he was lying naked under the water, letting it hit his face and open eyes without blinking, not even reacting to my appearance.

“Ram?” I said again, but his eyes didn’t even flicker in response.

I reached in and grabbed his shoulder, ignoring the water. It quickly drenched my shirt through to the skin, spreading up over my chest and into my eyes as I shook him.

Slowly, like he was caught in a time lapse, his face swivelled around. His eyes looked at me, but they were empty. I don’t think he even saw me.

“Everything’s going to be alright,” I said, reaching up and turning the shower off. I didn’t know if it was the truth, but he was alive. For the time being, that was enough.

He stirred a little when the water stopped hitting him, but only for a moment. His shoulders slumped back down and he rested, resigned, still looking fixedly at nothing.

I grabbed a towel from my bathroom, thankfully one of the few things I did remember to bring with me. I ran back to find him still sitting in the same place. It was like there was no one left inside to notice that he must be cold and uncomfortable. I pulled him out of the shower and into my waiting arms. He came willingly, falling against me like a doll. I towelled him dry as best I could and held him tight, like we were kids again, trying to take some small comfort from one another. His head slotted under my chin, and it felt right but so wrong, because Ram is supposed to be the strong one.

“Everything’s going to be fine, Ram, I promise,” I said, closing my eyes and praying that I was telling the truth.

 

About the Author

Rhiannon D’Averc is a crime writer based in the UK. She works as a ghostwriter and author under her own name as well as under pseudonyms. As a professional writer for over a decade, she also keeps herself busy as Chief Editor of London Runway, an indie fashion magazine. Her short stories have been published in Litro, Devolution-Z, Storgy, Literati, and more.

 

Author Links

Blog/Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter  

Newsletter sign-up  |  BookBub

 

Giveaway

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

full set of ebooks for Serial Investigations

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

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

 

Blog Tour – Till Death Do Us Part (Poireaut & Di Angeli, Book 1) by Dieter Moitzi

BLOG TOUR

Book Title: Till Death Do Us Part (Poireaut & Di Angeli, Book 1)

Author: Dieter Moitzi

Publisher: Self-published

Cover Artist: Dieter Moitzi

Genre/s: Cosy Murder Mystery

Trope/s: M/M romance, enemies to lovers, slow-burn, HFN, holidays

Themes: painful past, Egypt, cosy, slow romance, holidays

Heat Rating: 2 flames

Length: approx. 101 750 words/approx. 305 pages 

It is a standalone book.

Goodreads

Buy Links

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

 

Come on board the Queen of Egypt and discover this new murder mystery full of witty dialogs, funny situations, and blooming love! Already short-listed for the French Gay Book Award 2020!

 

Blurb 

When Auntie Agathe invites Raphaël Poireaut, a young Parisian bartender, on a Nile cruise, he isn’t really thrilled. To stare at old stones together with a bunch of old codgers—why, thanks for the gift. Unsurprisingly the trip starts off badly enough. Not only does Raphaël have an unnerving confrontation with a handsome but standoffish and haughty Italian guy, but he has barely stepped on board the cruise ship when he stumbles upon a tourist… who has been stabbed to death.

The young Venetian Stefano di Angeli agrees to spend his vacation in Egypt with his best friend Grazia. He hasn’t had holidays for six years. But his first encounter with a young, angel-faced, curly-haired Frenchie brings back painful memories. Besides, what could be worse to start a Nile cruise than to discover a murder has been committed on board? Cazzo—fate seems to bear him a grudge!

While the Egyptian police led by Colonel Al-Qaïb are investigating the murder, Raphaël and Stefano find themselves swept away by the events… and by the blooming feelings that inexorably draw them closer. Will they manage to sort out the truth from the lies and find the murderer? Will they be able to resist this mutual attraction that seems to overwhelm them against their wills?

A new, funny and light adventure by the author of “The Stuffed Coffin”, the French version of which has won the French Gay Murder Mystery Award 2019.

 

 

Excerpt 

The young guy hears my quiet steps, or he senses my gaze. He turns around.

Oh, hel-lo, man! My heart does a backwards flip. In my job I meet handsome guys aplenty. But this one is a class of his own. His face could be that of a male model, I kid you not. As if one of those unreal guys had stepped out of the glossy pages of Vogue Homme or GQ. Manly features, sensual mouth. Square chin, Roman nose, neatly trimmed designer stubble. His forehead is bare, his dense hair styled backwards and falling behind his left ear in a natural, lazy wave as if doing it spontaneously.

Alas, my immediate interest isn’t shared. On the contrary, he reacts as if suddenly facing a monster. He should be thankful the rail in his back prevents him from moving too far back and falling into the Nile.

Quite a boost for my self-esteem.

The handsome cretin pulls himself together at the last moment and scans me from head to toe. His cold gaze hovers over my naked chest, and he frowns, his eyebrows bushy but perfectly drawn. I notice that his whole body-language exudes barely concealed distance and aversion.

Despite his hostility, I murmur, “Hi”. Somewhat coolly perhaps, but still. I was raised like that. All right, I add “Asshole!” in my head, because, hello?

The young man answers with a nod. A black lock falls over his eyes, he puts it back in place. He seems to hesitate, then turns his back on me again.

Okay, asshole. Go ahead, continue your moody brooding, I don’t care. I don’t need no mens, even if they’re handsome as fuck.

HALF AN HOUR LATER, THE sun has started its race across the pristine sky for good; the heat has risen as well. The hipster slash asshole is still sulking in his corner when I sit on a shady deckchair. Our meeting was unpleasant, but he and the guy in pink belie my initial prognosis, and that’s a good start. We’re at least three on this boat to contemplate our sixties from below.

With the back of my hand, I wipe off the sweat trickling down my chest and soaking my chest hair. I realize I’m thirsty. There’s a bottle of water in the fridge in my cabin. Let’s go get it. You always need to stay hydrated, as Auntie would say. Granted, she means drinks, as in alcoholic beverages, but that doesn’t make it wrong.

The man in the pink tracksuit has apparently seen enough, too. When I get to the top of the stairs, he’s on the last step.

He’s waiting downstairs, holding the door for me.

“Thank you,” I say.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he remarks in an affable tone.

I look up in surprise. His beautifully low voice doesn’t match his puny physique and the mousey face. He makes an affected hand movement. “The landscape, I mean. The light.”

Automatically, I think, Oh. Family. “Very beautiful indeed,” I reply. “And ‘splendid things gleam in the dust’…”

Recognizing the Flaubert-quote, he laughs good-heartedly.

The swinging door closes behind us. Another door slams softly somewhere down the corridor. In the first cabin, I hear a woman say heatedly, “… I think he got it. He won’t bother you anymore, tweety.”

Tweety! Smirk. I really wouldn’t want to be pet-named tweety.

We pass other cabins; the vague noises of conversations, no more than murmurs, drifting out. I can hear showers running as well. The ship is waking up. A nice smell wafts through the corridor, a woody, leathery perfume for men that strikes me as familiar. The pink, mousey guy in front of me must have sprinkled himself with it.

A few doors before mine, the young man stops. “See you later,” he says.

“See you later,” I reply. When I pass behind him, I get a whiff a his pronounced citrus perfume, very fresh, very pungent. Oh. He’s not the source of the leathery perfume smell…

He turns the key and opens the door. “Mon chéri—are you awake?” he asks. The door closes behind him.

I was right. Mon chéri, not ma chérie. He is family. I’m not the only gay guy on this ship.

I walk to my door while rummaging in my shorts pockets. Let’s see… mobile… pencil… notepad… h-m. Where have I put my keys? Did I take them? Damn—don’t tell me I locked myself out…!

And then—

Suddenly—

A YELL. “AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!”

I JUMP, turn around, gaze down the empty corridor. What was it? Who was it? Where was it? What am I supposed to do?

“MY GOD! MICHEL!”

Michel?

A bad feeling bubbles up in my guts.

For a longer excerpt, please visit my author page:  http://dietermoitzi.com/till-death-do-us-part

 

About the Author  

 

Born in the early 70s, I grew up in a little village in Austria. At the age of 18, I moved to Vienna to get my master’s degree in Political Sciences, French, and Spanish. Today, I’m living in Paris, France, with my boyfriend and work as a graphic designer. 

In my spare time, I write, read, cook fancy recipes, take photos, and as often as I can, I travel (Italy, Portugal, Morocco, Egypt, the UK, and many more places). My literary tastes are eclectic, ranging from fantasy, murder mysteries, gay romances to dystopian novels, but I won’t say no to poetry or a history book either. I’m more a hoodie/jeans/sneakers kind of guy than a suit-and-tie chap. 

So far, I’ve published two short-story collections as well as four poetry collections. My first murder mystery novel “The Stuffed Coffin” featuring Damien Drechsler and the dashing Greek student Nikos has been released on January 6, 2019 and is also available in German and French. The French version has won the prestigious French Gay Murder Mystery Award 2019 (Prix du roman policier – Prix du roman gay 2019). You can also find me on Rainbow Book Reviews, where I write book reviews under the pseudonym of ParisDude (for French reviews, have a look at my review site livresgay.fr). 

 

Author Links

Blog/Website  |  Facebook  |  Travel Site 

 

 

 

 

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

 

New Release – Hold Me Up (Chasing Gold Book 1) by Colette Davison #KindleUnlimited #giveaway

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Hold Me Up (Chasing Gold Book 1)

Author: Colette Davison

Publisher:  Independently Published

Cover Artist: Colette Davison

Release Date: January 29, 2020

Genre/s: Contemporary M/M Romance

Trope/s: Second chance, sports, slow burn, hurt/comfort

Themes:  Forgiveness, trusting others, dedication, self-care

Heat Rating:  2 – 3 flames

Length:  68 500 words

It is a standalone story.

Add on Goodreads

Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link   |   Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

Blurb

Can second chance love survive past trauma?

 Reece has one goal: to compete in the Olympic Games. With the gymnastics World Championships looming, his dream is one step closer to becoming a reality.

When his childhood sweetheart, Alex, walks back into his life unexpectedly, Reece’s world is turned upside down. Alex was the boy who inexplicably pushed him away and broke his heart; the boy he still loves.

When the truth behind their break-up is revealed, Reece wants to hold Alex up and give him the strength to heal.

But can Reece be Alex’s rock, and remain focused on his training, or will his Olympic dreams suffer in the process?

Hold Me Up is a MM second chance romance, with a slow-burn relationship and lots of hurt/comfort. It’s the first in a series of books that follows male artistic gymnasts as they chase gold.

Trigger warnings: Hold Me Up features a character who suffers from anxiety and panic attacks due to a past event that is briefly described.

 

Excerpt 

“Pizza and beer, as requested.”

Alex’s smiled deepened as he stood back, allowing Reece to enter.

“Are we eating at the table, or are we going to be uncouth?” Reece made eyes at the sofa and then frowned playfully. “How can you be uncouth when you can’t be couth?”

Alex chuckled. “You’re an idiot.”

“It’s true, though,” Reece pointed out, kicking the door shut behind him. “Just like you can be over- or underwhelmed, but you can’t actually be whelmed. The English language is weird.” Raising the hand carrying the beer, he pointed to the table and then the sofa. “Table or sofa?”

Alex considered the question. The sofa would be far more relaxed, but he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. In just a few days, most of his barriers regarding Reece had crashed down. He was enjoying having Reece back in his life, but he felt like it was for all the wrong reasons.

Reece took the decision out of his hands. “The table is occupied by your laptop. Let’s take the sofa.” He put the pizzas and beer on the coffee table before flopping down on one end of the sofa. He looked up at Alex expectantly. “Are you joining me?”

Alex glanced at the table, wondering if he should offer to move the laptop. It would have taken him two seconds to close the lid and prop it against the wall and only slightly longer to take it back through to his bedroom, but he didn’t want to. Instead, he wandered to the kitchen units and grabbed the bottle opener from the drawer.

“Good call,” Reece said as he pulled two bottles out of the cardboard pack. He held them both while Alex flipped the lids off, and then gave one to Alex. “I got us garlic bread,” he declared. “And I seem to remember that you’re not much of a fan of topping on pizza, so I’ve got a margherita for you and pepperoni for me.” He took a swig of beer before opening up the pizza boxes and handing Alex his. Then he reclaimed the bottle. “We should have a toast.”

Alex raised his eyebrows as Reece lifted his bottle.

“To you. Reporter extraordinaire.”

Alex felt heat creep up into his face. “I don’t—”

“I do,” Reece cut him off. “Like I said earlier, your article was amazing.” He glanced around the room. “You should cut it out and frame it.”

The heat swept up to Alex’s hairline and into his ears. “My boss already did.”

“Where is it? I don’t see it up anywhere.”

“At work.”

“On the wall?”

Alex shook his head.

“You need to bring it home. I’ll help you put it up, if you want?”

Alex dipped his chin. “I—”

“It’s your first article. It’s a big deal, Alex and you should be bloody proud of yourself.”

 

 

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

Twitter

Facebook Group: Colette’s Cosy Corner

BookBub

Goodreads

Instagram

Mailing List

Giveaway 

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

a $10 Amazon gift card.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Follow the tour and check out the other blog posts here

 

Cover Reveal – Hold Me Up (Chasing Gold Book 1) by Colette Davison

COVER REVEAL

Book Title: Hold Me Up (Chasing Gold Book 1)

Author: Colette Davison

Publisher:  Independently Published

 

Cover Artist: Colette Davison

Release Date: January 29, 2020

Genre/s: Contemporary M/M Romance

Trope/s: Second chance, sports, slow burn, hurt/comfort

Themes:  Forgiveness, trusting others, dedication, self-care

Heat Rating:  2 – 3 flames

Length:  68 500 words

It is a standalone story.

Add on Goodreads

Blurb

Can second chance love survive past trauma?

 Reece has one goal: to compete in the Olympic Games. With the gymnastics World Championships looming, his dream is one step closer to becoming a reality.

When his childhood sweetheart, Alex, walks back into his life unexpectedly, Reece’s world is turned upside down. Alex was the boy who inexplicably pushed him away and broke his heart; the boy he still loves.

When the truth behind their break-up is revealed, Reece wants to hold Alex up and give him the strength to heal.

But can Reece be Alex’s rock, and remain focused on his training, or will his Olympic dreams suffer in the process?

Hold Me Up is a MM second chance romance, with a slow-burn relationship and lots of hurt/comfort. It’s the first in a series of books that follows male artistic gymnasts as they chase gold.

Trigger warnings: Hold Me Up features a character who suffers from anxiety and panic attacks due to a past event that is briefly described.

 

Excerpt 

“What the fuck are you doing here, Alex?” Reece demanded, not even trying to hide the anger in his tone. He couldn’t miss the fact that Alex flinched, and he felt a pinch of guilt.

“Writing an article.” Alex’s eyes were wide and imploring, in a ‘can we just get this over with?’ kind of way.

Reece sat down at one of the tables. “Go on then, ask your questions.”

Alex grimaced as he sat down at the next table along. “How have you been?”

Reece rolled his eyes. “You’re not here to chit chat.” God he was being an arse and he knew it, but he wasn’t sure what else Alex expected from him.

“Sorry.” Alex stared down at the table for several seconds, his fierce stare reminding Reece of the night Alex had ended not only their relationship, but their friendship, too.

After a while, Alex opened the small rucksack he’d brought with him and pulled out an electronic recorder, a notepad and pen.

“Do you mind if I record our conversation?”

“Go for it.”

Alex touched his finger to the on button, but didn’t press it. His mouth quivered, as though he wanted to say something, but either couldn’t find the words or the courage. An urge to bundle him up into his arms struck Reece, and it was all he could do not to stand up and do exactly that. He had no right to embrace Alex, and doubted the guy would appreciate it if he did.

“Are you going to ask me questions, or what?” he asked instead, painfully aware of the gruffness in his voice.

“I’m sorry for surprising you,” Alex said at last.

Reece stiffened. What he’d really wanted to hear was an apology for the way Alex had treated him four years ago, but obviously that was far too much to ask. “Just get on with it,” he growled.

Alex glanced around the room. “This place hasn’t changed.”

“It’s had a lick of paint.”

Alex nodded. “There’s some new equipment in the gym.”

“It’s been four years, Alex, the equipment needed updating.”

Alex’s jaw flexed.

“I’m really not interested in small talk,” Reece said. “You made it quite clear four years ago that you wanted nothing more to do with me, so stop sitting there pretending to be nice.”

“I—” Alex clamped his mouth shut and looked at the floor. He grasped the pen and began to tap it against the closed notepad, the fast sound was incessant and loud in the empty room. With his other hand, he turned the recorder on and pushed it across the table, closer to Reece, before flipping the pad open. “How did it feel to be selected to compete in the World Championships?”

Reece narrowed his eyes. He’d heard that frosty, not-quite-neutral tone before and it made his skin crawl. “Like a dream come true,” he muttered. “But it’s just one step towards my real goal.”

For the first time, Alex lifted his gaze to meet Reece’s stare. “Your real goal?” he echoed.

Reece resisted the temptation to snap out a sarcastic comment about how Alex must have known what that was. “The Olympics.”

 

 

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

Twitter

Facebook Group: Colette’s Cosy Corner

BookBub

Goodreads

Instagram

Mailing List

Giveaway 

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

a $10 Amazon gift card.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Follow the tour and check out the other blog posts here