New Audiobook – Leap of Faith by C F White 

AUDIOBOOK TOUR

Book Title: Leap of Faith 

Author: C F White

Publisher: C F White

Narrator: Piers Ryman

Release Date: August 14, 2021

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance

Tropes: Age-gap, enemies to lovers, slow burn 

Themes: Found family 

Heat Rating: 4 flames   

Length:  9 hours and 13 minutes

It is a standalone story, although the story continues as a web serial on my website with the first chapter available to download for free in audio after signing up to my newsletter.

The book does not end on a cliffhanger, although there is a possibility of continuation as mentioned above. 

Goodreads

Buy Links

Audible US  |   Audible UK   

Amazon US  |   Amazon UK

Sometimes all you need is a little push 

Blurb 

Running from his shattered gymnastics career, Charlie Avrill’s one hope for redemption is the strange and colourful world of the circus. His skills should make him a good fit for seasoned performer, Darius Lungo. But Darius won’t compromise his high stakes act for just anyone.

Still mourning the loss of his performance partner who unexpectedly abandoned the show, Darius’s heart can’t take another temporary filler. No matter how perfect Charlie might seem at first glance. But the circus is dying, and Darius owes his bosses a stellar act to sell.

Putting their differences aside to recreate the star attraction, Darius and Charlie grow closer with each rehearsal. But Charlie’s only in the ring for a one-night-only performance and the circus is due at its next stop—off the island and into Europe.

Can Charlie push aside his fears and take the leap of faith to change his entire life? And, if he does, will Darius still be there to catch him?

Leap of Faith is a standalone age-gap, enemies to lovers, mm romance where the twists and turns don’t only happen in the ring.

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.

Eventually she 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 it brought pen back to and paper after having written stories as a child but never had the confidence to show them to the world. Now, having embarked on this writing journey, C F White can’t stop. 

So strap in, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.  

Author Links

Twitter @CFWhiteUK  |  Facebook  |  Blog

Instagram  |  Newsletter Sign-up

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The Wingman by A. Poland #giveaway

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: The Wingman

Author: A. Poland

Publisher: NineStar Press LLC

Cover Artist: Natasha Snow

Release Date:  July 26, 2021

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance, Romantic comedy, New Adult

Tropes: Friends to lovers, love triangle, childhood best friends, slow burn, sharing a bed (tent)

Themes: humor, friendship, family, communication

Heat Rating:  3 flames    

Length:  69 762  words

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

Goodreads

Buy Links

NineStar Press  |   Amazon US  |   Amazon UK 

Always the wingman, never the “one”. 

Blurb

Nathan, a college student with a thing for funky hats and a definite not-thing for the great outdoors, has been a wingman extraordinaire for his lifelong best friend Lorcan for as long as either can remember. With his innate ability to talk endlessly about how great Lorcan is to anyone who’ll listen, Nathan has always been the best man for the job—even if he’s secretly waiting for the day when Lorcan will realize that Nathan is the only guy for him.

But then, Lorcan sets his sights on Miles, the suave, leather-jacket-wearing musician with a love of mountaineering and a family of six overprotective sisters, and Nathan must once again put his wingman skills to work.

Trouble is, Nathan is getting tired of the old routine, and Miles is the only human being on the planet immune to Lorcan’s charm. Not to mention that Miles’s interest is immediately piqued by the outspoken and completely oblivious wingman.

Excerpt

Nathan blinked blankly at his best friend.

“My help?” he parroted, not quite getting what Lorcan was suggesting. It wasn’t as though he could go up to this Miles guy and talk his ear off about Lorcan to encourage him to make the first move. They’d already met; they’d spoken. If Miles was interested, he’d make a move.

Hope stirred in Nathan’s chest.

If Miles was interested, why hadn’t he already made a move?

“Yeah, I need you to do your thing.” Lorcan nodded, looking at Nathan expectantly, as though that would make Nathan whip out a ready-made action plan on how to get into Miles’s pants.

“Dude, I do that so you can talk to them without doing the awkward introductions yourself.” Nathan spoke slowly, as though explaining how to draw a straight line to a child. “You’ve already covered that.”

“Well, then think of this as a part two,” Lorcan allowed with a huff, probably because Nathan was making very valid points. “I don’t know if he’s even into guys.”

Nathan frowned thoughtfully. Normally, it was easy to tell if someone was into Lorcan. Or at least to Nathan. He liked to think his dad’s perceptiveness had been inherited—to a lesser extent, of course, because Nathan was good, but he wasn’t that good—enough that he made a great wingman to other people, not just Lorcan. Hell, a few of the people in their friend group had asked for his help before.

It wasn’t as easy, sure. But Nathan had a pretty high success rate. A few of them in happy, long-term relationships to boot.

Maybe he should have business cards made.

Nathan Reed—will get you laid.

Nathan shook off that thought as quickly as it had come because that made him sound like a matchmaker, and he was decidedly not experienced enough to consider that as a career path.

“So you…what? Want me to meet him and suss out if he’s interested?” Nathan tried talking slowly, one brow apprehensively raised.

“Yeah!” Lorcan grinned. “Exactly. Work your magic.”

Nathan huffed out a laugh, rolling his eyes at Lorcan’s enthusiasm about Nathan’s apparent “magic.” It wasn’t magic; it was just knowing how to talk to people. Specifically, talking to people about Lorcan. Who, in Nathan’s opinion, was the easiest thing in the world to talk about.

Sometimes, on very good nights, Nathan didn’t have to do as much. Sometimes, the woman would know exactly why he was approaching and just cut to the chase. He always appreciated those; they made his life a lot easier.

“Okay, I’ll do you this one favor.” Nathan sighed, clearly teasing. There were no favors between them. No one kept tabs over who owed the other what. “Now drive me somewhere to get food. I’m starving.”

Lorcan laughed, his mood clearly elevated from earlier. Even that was enough to settle Nathan a bit more. Sure, his brain might still be working overtime on limited sleep, but Lorcan’s coming-out experience had been painless for him, and that was something at least.

“Your wish is my command,” he quipped back, starting up the car and taking them to their usual haunt.

There was nothing better than getting food with Lorcan.

Lorcan was a picky eater, while Nathan happily consumed anything deemed edible. Which meant Nathan tended to get extra of whatever Lorcan didn’t like, and no food was wasted.

Win-win all around.

But this time, the experience was different.

Nathan hadn’t been worried about any uncomfortable silences or lapses in conversation after being away for so long, and he’d been right not to.

But he never thought to be worried about Lorcan never shutting up.

Which, under normal circumstances, would have been fine. But these weren’t normal circumstances.

Lorcan wouldn’t stop talking about Miles.

In the last half an hour, Nathan learned more about the guy than he ever wished to. His gut twisted with each and every new fun fact presented to him, his shoulders drawn tighter and smile more strained.

So far, Nathan learned the following:

Miles was a musician.

A lot of people were musicians, especially in LA; it wasn’t a big deal. In fact, Nathan had taken piano lessons for an entire week and could still successfully play “Twinkle Twinkle.”

Miles was a graduate from Juilliard.

Nathan might have asked Lorcan to repeat himself because there was no way he’d said Juilliard.

But he had. And that was fine. Juilliard was a college just like any other. Saint Andrews was nothing to scoff at either.

Miles was adopted.

It made sense. Probably adopted into a wealthy family with plenty of connections, considering the Juilliard thing (fucking Juilliard).

Miles’s eyes were this unusual gray color.

Lorcan spent a great deal of time talking about the color of Miles’s eyes. (There were only so many ways to describe stormy gray with flecks of brown, Nathan groused, please move on.) Anyway, Nathan had been told that he had unique eyes. Granted, they’d been compared to a swamp before. But still. Swamps had a bad rap—they had frogs.

But no, Lorcan clearly had a thing for smoke-colored eyes now, not gunky-green.

Miles was hugely involved in environmental activism.

Nathan recycled.

About the Author 

Fuelled by a worrying tea addiction (with a tattoo to prove it), A. Poland is a rom-com writer from Ireland who delights in telling stories that make you fall in love with the characters and give you that squee feeling in your chest.

Three words A. would use to describe her writing are funky, silly, and spicy. Which, coincidentally, is also their dancing style.

When they’re not daydreaming of the next meet-cute, A. works as a video producer and a full-time dog mom to her pride and joy, Gizmo.

Social Media Links

Email (public address)  disasterbiwrites@gmail.com

Website   |  Twitter

Facebook  |  Goodreads 

Giveaway 

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

one of five ebook copies of The Wingman

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New Release – The Prince and the Ice King by Amanda Meuwissen #giveaway

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: The Prince and the Ice King

Author: Amanda Meuwissen

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press

Cover Artist: Kris Norris

Release Date: August 3, 2021

Genre: Fantasy M/M Romance

Tropes: Fated love, enemies to lovers, cursed, slow burn

Themes: Destiny, fate, redemption, legend, overcoming prejudice

Heat Rating:  4 flames

Length: 300 pages

It can be read alone but is the first book in a series. 

This is book 1 of Tales from the Gemstone Kingdoms.

Goodreads

Buy Links

Amazon US  |   Amazon UK 

Dreamspinner

Only true love can melt a frozen heart.

Blurb

Every Winter Solstice, the Emerald Kingdom sends the dreaded Ice King a sacrifice—a corrupt soul, a criminal, a deviant, or someone touched by magic. Prince Reardon has always loathed this tradition, partly because he dreams of love with another man instead of a future queen.

Then Reardon’s best friend is discovered as a witch and sent to the Frozen Kingdom as tribute.

Reardon sets out to rescue him, willing to battle and kill the Ice King if that’s what it takes. But nothing could prepare him for what he finds in the Frozen Kingdom—a cursed land filled with magic… and a camaraderie Reardon has never known. Over this strange, warm community presides the enigmatic Ice King himself, a man his subjects call Jack. A man with skin made of ice, whose very touch can stop a beating heart.

A man Reardon finds himself inexplicably drawn to.

Jack doesn’t trust Reardon. But when Reardon begins spending long days with him, vowing to prove himself and break the curse, Jack begins to hope. Can love and forgiveness melt the ice around Jack’s heart?

Excerpt 

“Jack, is it? Far better than ‘Ice King,’ I suppose.”

The king frowned.

“I’ll call you Majesty until we trust each other. But on that day, I will call you Jack.”

“Is this a game to you?” The Ice King straightened. Reardon stood almost directly before the throne now, chilled and shivering but without any creeping frost on his hair or clothes. “What do you hope to accomplish?”

“My father is wrong for what he does, but seeing this curse on you makes me wonder if he is right about magic’s corruption, despite all the wonders it can do.”

“Magic alone did not curse us!” the king roared. “One person who wielded it did, and I brought her wrath upon me myself.”

That gave Reardon pause. There was so much he didn’t know. “You could tell me your story.”

“It is a long one, little prince, and I grow weary of your presence already.” He stood, crunching down the steps between Reardon and the throne and bringing a gust of icy wind with him.

Reardon sensed how close he was to death but stood his ground. “I only want to bring my people home.”

“And where are they supposed to go? Home, you say. The thief who almost lost her hands because she was starving, the man who lusted after the wrong noble’s son, your friend who has visions—do they have a home to go back to when their own people cast them out as villains?”

I didn’t.”

“Good for you. You only cared once it finally affected someone you knew.”

Reardon’s fists clenched to be called a heartless coward, but he’d called himself worse this past year.

He also couldn’t overlook the example of a man and a noble’s son.

“I suppose you’ve taken in all the corrupted, haven’t you?”

“You call them corrupt”—the Ice King stomped another clawed foot closer—“yet ask for leniency?”

“I only speak as I was taught. I don’t agree with it. I don’t believe they’re corrupt. Not any of them. I don’t want to. If my father understood—”

“He’d still keep up the status quo. Your kingdom shuns what they don’t understand because of my curse, yet they don’t even remember the time before.”

“So tell me! Let me know the truth so we can learn from our past instead of continuing to repeat it.” Reardon stepped forward—too close, he knew—but like before, instead of reaching out and ending him, the Ice King backed away. “You’d really let them all go, wouldn’t you? If they wanted it?”

“They don’t, but you are welcome to ask them, including your friend.”

“Then I am not a prisoner either?”

“That is up for debate.”

If Barclay had seen Reardon’s death in his vision, it couldn’t be now. Not yet. “Give me the chance to prove I will go back and change things for the better. I’ll stay for as long as it takes, but once you believe me, once you know me and I know you, let me go.”

“And what if I never believe you? You’re the prince. You could bring an army to my door after learning my secrets.”

“If you never believe me… then you either have another servant or another statue to crush. But that means you take an audience with me every day.”

The king scoffed, turning to stomp back up to his throne and throw himself onto it with an elegant ease that should have been impossible. “Sounds frightfully dull.”

“Yes, I can see your calendar is quite full.”

He rumbled with laughter like a brewing winter storm.

For a long stretch of minutes, he stared at Reardon with his uniquely human eyes—different from his companions. The Ice King was more tied to his humanity, even if he’d lost the feeling of it in his heart, and more cursed and tortured because of it, perhaps.

Yet still he said, “Fine. But make no mistake, little prince, if you prove unworthy or attempt to betray me, I will not hesitate to turn you into frozen rubble like that thief.”

All Reardon could do was return his stare and wonder—What was this curse? Why had it been cast? And what had the king been like before it changed him and his kingdom? He had to know, even if a mysterious and frightening future stretched out before him.

Love, death, and blue eyes in a sea of white.

Whatever that might mean.

“You have a deal, Your Majesty.”

About the Author 

Amanda Meuwissen is a bisexual author, with a primary focus on M/M romance. As author of the paranormal romance trilogy The Incubus Saga and several other titles with various publishers, Amanda regularly attends local comic conventions for fun and to meet with fans, where she will often be seen in costume as one of her favorite fictional characters. She lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota, with her husband, John, and their cat, Helga.

Author Links

Blog/Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter

Instagram  |  Pinterest  |  Newsletter Sign-up

Giveaway 

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win 

one free eBook copy of any title from Amanda Meuwissen’s backlist.

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

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: The Dead Don’t Lie

Author: Anne Russo

Publisher: JMS Books 

Cover Artist: Written Ink Designs 

Release Date: 3/13/21

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

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

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

Heat Rating: 4 flames  

Length: 75 000 words/250 pages

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

Goodreads

Buy Links 

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK  |   Apple

Barnes & Noble  |  Bookstrand  |  Google Play

Kobo  |  Scribd  |  Smashwords

Blurb

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

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

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

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

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

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

Excerpt 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, that’s my — why?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Who the hell are you?” Ian countered.

About the Author

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

Social Media Links

  Blog/Website  |  Newsletter

Facebook  |  Twitter

Instagram  |  Pinterest

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a $20 Amazon Gift Card

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New Release – The Art of Living by Abrianna Denae @AbriDenae #giveaway #KindleUnlimited

BLOG TOUR

Book Title: The Art of Living 

Author: Abrianna Denae

Cover Artist: Pretty in Ink Creations

Release Date: June 10, 2021

Genre: Contemporary gay romance

Tropes: Single dad, hurt/comfort, office romance, slow burn

Themes: Trust, meddling family

Heat Rating: 3 flames     

Length: 35 000 words/ 90 pages

It is a standalone book, though the reader may be interested in The Gift of Believing, a companion book featuring the MC’s son: mybook.to/GoB

Add on Goodreads

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Universal pre-order link  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

Letting go is the hardest thing a person can do…

Blurb 

Robert Harper has spent the past seventeen years living for his son. He doesn’t know who he is if he’s not being a caregiver and protector all rolled into one.

Niall Ross is finally ready to make a life of his own. After years spent making sure his younger brother had everything he needed, it’s time for Niall to discover who he is.

All it takes is one glance across a crowded meeting room for the men to feel a connection, but Robert is terrified his life is too complicated for the other man. Luckily, Niall has patience in abundance. With a little help from Robert’s meddling family, the two begin a tentative relationship.

Just as they’re finding their footing, all of Robert’s worst fears come to life and he falters under the pressure. Niall takes the challenge to show Robert that he’s a safe place to lean on, but when his own life begins to unravel, he places his heart in Robert’s hands. When two independent men are forced to trust each other will the love win out, or will vulnerability and fear cause them to lose the best thing they didn’t even know they had.

Excerpt 

“You really want me to date?”

Garrett nods. “I want you to live your life. I know you’re going to argue and say that you have everything you need with me, and Uncle Jared, and Sam. Maybe that’s true, but I also can’t help but feel guilty because if I wasn’t me then maybe you’d have found someone else by now.”

“Garrett, no, you know that’s not true,” I say gently. “Those other people I dated when you were younger, they didn’t last because they weren’t right for our family. If anyone can’t handle me and everything I come with, then they’re not worth my time.”

He studies me with those dark, wise eyes of his. “Does this mean you’ll give Niall a chance then? Because he’s different, I can feel it.”

Shit. I walked right into that one.

“Yeah,” I sigh. “I’d be open to trying.”

Garrett smiles and whips out his phone. I don’t bother asking who he’s texting, since the pieces are starting to slowly fall into place. I look at Presley, “They planned this, didn’t they?”

Pres smiles and nods. “Jared thought you both needed a little intervention.”

I shake my head and laugh a bit because my family is insane.

Garrett is still texting away while Presley and I clean up the kitchen. I try to tell Pres that he doesn’t need to help since he and Gare cooked, but he waves me off.

I just get the dishwasher started when my phone rings.  The display reads Niall and my mouth suddenly goes dry while my stomach begins to tie itself into knots.

Both boys stare at me as I accept the call. “Hello?”

“Hi,” pause, and then Niall laughs, “This is more awkward than I thought it’d be.”

I smile and turn away from the teenage busybodies. “I seriously doubt whatever you have to say is more awkward than the dinner I just had.”

He laughs again. “They tried to butter you up with food, huh?”

I groan. “Yes. When’d they get to you?”

“Sam talked to me this afternoon. Then they added me to a group chat a few hours ago and promptly blew up my phone with texts about twenty minutes or so ago.”

I sigh. “I’m sorry about them.”

“It’s fine,” Niall assures. “They’re just looking out for you.”

“They’re nosy and need to learn how to mind their own business.” I look over my shoulder to find Garrett and Presley sitting at the table, hanging onto my every word. Shaking my head, I stride from the room in search of some privacy.

“So if I were to ask you to dinner, you’d say no?”

“I guess you should ask and find out.”

Niall chuckles a bit. “Will you have dinner with me, Robert?”

My heart stutters in my chest and it takes a moment for me to get my mouth working. “Yes,” I finally manage to say.

“Great. Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is perfect.”

“I’ll text you the details unless someone else does it for me.”

I snort. “That’s a high possibility. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” he repeats. “Have a good night, Robert.”

“You too.”

The line goes dead and a part of me mourns the loss of his voice. Taking a steadying breath, I let the giddy feeling of a first date wash over me. I’ll never tell my family this, but I’m glad they decided to interfere with my life. I never would have had the guts to do this myself.

Tomorrow can’t come fast enough.

About the Author 

Abrianna Denae is a twenty-four-year-old author living in Northern California. An English major, she has always had a passion for writing.

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

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

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

Social Media Links

Facebook  |  Facebook Group  |  Twitter  |  Instagram

BookBub  |  Goodreads Author Page  |  Amazon Author Page  

You can also email her at authorabridenae@gmail.com

Giveaway

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

either a $20 Amazon gift card or one of two ebooks from the author’s backlist.

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Cover Reveal – The Art of Living by Abrianna Denae 

COVER REVEAL

Book Title: The Art of Living 

Author: Abrianna Denae

Cover Artist: Pretty in Ink Creations

Release Date: June 10, 2021

Genre: Contemporary gay romance

Tropes: Single dad, hurt/comfort, office romance, slow burn

Themes: Trust, meddling family

Heat Rating: 3 flames     

Length: 35 000 words/ 90 pages

It is a standalone book, though the reader may be interested in The Gift of Believing, a companion book featuring the MC’s son: mybook.to/GoB

Add on Goodreads

Buy Links – Available for Pre-Order 

Universal pre-order link  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

Letting go is the hardest thing a person can do…

Blurb 

Robert Harper has spent the past seventeen years living for his son. He doesn’t know who he is if he’s not being a caregiver and protector all rolled into one.

Niall Ross is finally ready to make a life of his own. After years spent making sure his younger brother had everything he needed, it’s time for Niall to discover who he is.

All it takes is one glance across a crowded meeting room for the men to feel a connection, but Robert is terrified his life is too complicated for the other man. Luckily, Niall has patience in abundance. With a little help from Robert’s meddling family, the two begin a tentative relationship.

Just as they’re finding their footing, all of Robert’s worst fears come to life and he falters under the pressure. Niall takes the challenge to show Robert that he’s a safe place to lean on, but when his own life begins to unravel, he places his heart in Robert’s hands. When two independent men are forced to trust each other will the love win out, or will vulnerability and fear cause them to lose the best thing they didn’t even know they had.

Excerpt 

Ice cream for dinner is the best grown-up way to celebrate all the good changes in my life. I find a cute little old-fashioned ice cream parlor in a shopping center about fifteen minutes from my house.

I probably don’t need the sugar, but after weeks of interviews, packing, moving, and general life shit, I deserve it.

I order two scoops of cherries jubilee and as I turn to find somewhere to sit, I crash into someone. “Shit,” I exclaim as my lovely, hard-earned ice cream drops to the floor.

“Oh my God,” the person I ran into says. “I am so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going and I can buy you another one. I’m so sorry, I really am, I swear I didn’t see you there-”

“Breathe, Pres,” someone else says.

I look up from the mess at my feet to the two kids in front of me. One of them looks like he’s about ready to cry, his blue eyes are shiny with what must be tears. The other is speaking to him in soft, gentle tones and holding his hands, trying to soothe him.

“It’s okay,” I tell them. “Accidents happen. A little mess can get cleaned up, nobody got hurt and that’s the important thing.”

“I really am sorry,” he says again. “Let us buy you more?”

I want to protest, but if it’ll make the kid feel better, I’ll let him. “You don’t have to, but the thought is appreciated.”

“Go sit down,” his friend says, “I’ll get everything taken care of.”

By this point, one of the employees has come over to clean up the mess and the few people sitting at tables are back to minding their own business.

“We really are sorry,” the other boy says after his friend walks off to sit down.

“No harm done.” We step up to the counter and I let the boy order theirs first. “Is he going to be okay?”

He gives me a small smile, “Yeah, he will, he’s just a bit shaken up. He gets…anxious easily, I guess.”

When we get to the cash register I hand over my card.

“You were supposed to let us pay!”

“It’s fine, my treat, please.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You can pay it forward in some other way.”

“We will.” He gives me a smile and heads over to his friend.

I find my own table and watch them interact. The dark-haired kid I was talking to in line grabs the other one’s hand and the way they smile and lean toward each other tells me there’s more to their relationship.

It makes me happy to see them so comfortable in their own skin. I would have loved to have what they do when I was their age.

Turning away from them, I focus on my own ice cream. The flavor bursts across my tongue and I have to hold back a moan. To some, having ice cream for dinner, alone to boot, might seem like the loneliest mini-celebration ever, but for me, it’s perfect.

I spent so long trying to make sure my brother was taken care of, and that he understood how much I cared and valued his accomplishments, teaching him that it’s the little things that matter just as much as the big ones. Now I’m on my own, and I’m okay with making my own celebrations memorable in the little ways that I enjoy. As long as they bring me happiness, who cares how small it is?

The two teens leave before I do. I watch as the blond, the one who ran into me, takes his boyfriend’s backpack. The smile that lights up on the brunet’s face makes my heart ache with a longing I haven’t felt in a very long time.

Maybe it’s because the dark hair and eyes remind me of Robert, maybe it’s because they have what I would have killed for at that age, or maybe it’s something else entirely.

About the Author 

Abrianna Denae is a twenty-four-year-old author living in Northern California. An English major, she has always had a passion for writing.

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

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

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

Social Media Links

Facebook  |  Facebook Group  |  Twitter  |  Instagram

BookBub  |  Goodreads Author Page  |  Amazon Author Page  

You can also email her at authorabridenae@gmail.com

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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 

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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

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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

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Giveaway 

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an ebook box set of The District Line trilogy

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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

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a $10 Amazon Gift Card

a Rafflecopter giveaway



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