New Release – The Phisher King 4: Honeypot by Clancy Nacht & Thursday Euclid

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: The Phisher King 4: Honeypot

Author: Clancy Nacht & Thursday Euclid

Publisher: Eine Kleine Press

Cover Artist: Clancy Nacht

Release Date: June 22, 2021

Genres: Contemporary M/M Romantic Suspense/Thriller

Trope/s: Daddy/boy, mercs with hearts of gold. 

Themes: Hurt/comfort

Heat Rating:  4 flames

Length: 72 000 words/279 pages

It Is not a standalone story. 

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Buy Links

Amazon US  |   Amazon UK

Is Dark Sun an olive branch from Barnes to the men he betrayed, 

or is this the honeypot that will secure their demise?

Blurb

 It’s been a long road to recovery since FBI Agent Cal Riggs and his hacker boyfriend Hunter Walsh’s last showdown with the treacherous Justin Barnes. His betrayal during False Flag left Cal and Hunter scarred and shaken. As their friends Sam Dupre and Rob Crawford dealt with domestic terrorism in Olympia during Penetration Test, Hunter and Cal fought to regain a sense of normalcy that never materialized.


The Bureau under the Trump Administration takes a punitive attitude toward Cal’s passion of fighting white nationalism, and his employment there grows less tenable by the day. Meanwhile, Hunter deals with the uncertainty of Barnes’s continued freedom by taking extreme steps to enhance the security of the condo he shares with Cal. No part of their lives has escaped Barnes’s poisoned touch.


When a shady corporate lawyer shows up on the doorstep while Cal’s at work, Hunter takes the meeting and discovers Barnes’s plan B: In his absence, he wants to bequeath his mercenary company, Dark Sun, to his former FBI partner and lover, no other than Callum Riggs. But what is Cal going to do with Barnes’s mercs? Can he really leave the Bureau he’s been part of since graduation? Well, if Hunter has a say, that’s exactly what Cal will do.


But life in the private sector is dangerous, too. Enemies hide in plain sight in Dark Sun’s every office, and there’s no knowing who still supports Barnes and his deadly extremist agenda. Is the mercenary company an olive branch from Barnes to the men he betrayed, or is this the honeypot that will secure their demise?

CW: Violence, brief sexual violence (not between MCs; no rape), white nationalist terrorism

Excerpt 

 “Feet. Off. The. Furniture,” Cal gritted out, something sparking behind his dark eyes.


“What, you’re the boss for one day and you think you can just start ordering people around?” Hunter pouted and squirmed down, pushing his feet farther onto the table.


“I’ve been the boss of you a lot longer than that.” Cal’s flat delivery and the challenge in his expression lit a fire in Hunter. It was honestly surprising they hadn’t just fucked over his seriously uncomfortable desk right in front of everyone this afternoon.


Before Hunter could act, Cal dropped Bruiser on him and then leaned down and physically knocked Hunter’s feet off the coffee table.


Hunter caught Bruiser, but quickly released him onto the couch so he wouldn’t get stuck in the middle of everything. The force with which Cal pushed Hunter’s feet turned him sideways, and he barely caught himself so he didn’t topple to the floor.


“You gonna work out some aggression on Mike Hunt?”


“You and your frakking pranks.” Cal grabbed Hunter around the waist and shoved him back on the luxurious sofa, pushing him into a corner and pinning him there with a hand on his shoulder and another on his inner thigh.


That sculpted face and its fading scars loomed inches from Hunter’s nose as Cal stared him down. “You do this crap on purpose, I’m convinced. Mike frakking Hunt. It’s like you’re begging for it. Do you have any idea how difficult it was for me to be professional today?”


“I was trying to be good. I didn’t even drop anything so you could see how my ass looks when I bend over to pick it up. Didn’t matter, though. I saw you checking me out. Wonder what Rory thinks you’re hiring me for.”


Hunter had removed his jacket when he’d gotten home, leaving him in a snug black t-shirt and the stretchy jeans. “You gonna give me a full-time job, Daddy?”


“If you play your cards right, you little brat.” 

About the Authors 

Together, Texans and platonic life partners Thursday Euclid and Clancy Nacht write queer novels that span genres, with intense romances and a seamless shared narrative voice.

They published their first co-written novel, the m/m rock star romance Black Gold, in 2010, and now have over a decade of award-winning collaborations under their exquisite belts. Recent titles include the twisted romance His Fake Prison Daddy and the Phisher King series, in which an uptight federal agent and a bratty hacker go from enemies to lovers while solving a hate crime.

Though Elder Millennial trans man Thursday and Gen X gender outlaw Clancy live three hours apart, they are inseparable. Their friendship is a perfect example of the Grumpy/Sunshine trope, which makes Thursday very happy. Clancy thinks it’s all right.

Social Media Links

Blog/Website  |   Twitter  |   Twitter  |   Instagram  

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

New Release – Falling Awake IV: Retribution by Kristoffer Gair @KristofferGair

BLOG TOUR

Book Title: Falling Awake IV: Retribution

Author: Kristoffer Gair

Publisher: Self-Published

Cover Artist: Kris Norris

Release Day: June 19, 2021

Genre/s: M/M Suspense, Thriller

Trope/s: The hunt begins now.

Themes:  Loyalty, friendship, sacrifice, love

Heat Rating: 1 flame

Length: 74 000 words           

There are three prior books, Falling Awake, Falling Awake II: Revenant, and Falling Awake III: Requiem which need to be read first.

Add on Goodreads

Buy Links

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

“Some people are so low, they gotta look up to see Hell.”

Blurb 

“Some people are so low, they gotta look up to see Hell.”

The death of Thomas Reis continues to ripple through the lives of those connected to his case fourteen years later. Andrew O’Donnell and Lawrence Boggs have already fallen, but three more pick up where the others left off, and each for his own reason.

One believes in justice, the second loyalty, and the third desperately seeks a reason to live. All three, however, share the same final end game; Retribution.

The hunt begins.

Excerpt 

“I’m glad I caught you before you left then. I’m truly sorry.” He bowed his head. “I held your husband in the highest regards.”

“He respected you, too. Can I get you something to drink? I’m afraid I don’t have much. I’ll be leaving in the next day or two, but I think I have some orange juice, and I just made a fresh pot of coffee.”

“No, thank you.”

Norrma led him into the kitchen and sat down at the table, one of the few pieces of furniture left behind until the day she left. Various paperwork lay in little piles on the table, some it from the landlord, and others from the movers, bank, and relatives who’d sent cards.

“Lawrence’s funeral was this past weekend, then I insisted the kids head back to school. I know they wanted to stay with me and help out here, and maybe it was cruel to send them away, but I think staying busy and being around their friends will help them more than being here right now.” She sniffed. “Lawrence would have insisted they get on with their lives as soon as they could. ‘Death,’ he told us many times, ‘is a natural part of things. Living is for the now. Mourning can always be done later.’ He always made sure we knew exactly how he felt. None of us had to guess whether or not he loved us.”

Joe nodded. “His directness is something I appreciated immensely.”

She took a sip of coffee. “The police came, had a look at his case files, and couldn’t really make heads or tails out of them.” Norma chuckled. “Lawrence always had a unique way of organizing things in life that sometimes only he understood. I packed up what they didn’t take. Honestly, I think they confiscated a few things here and there just so it looked good in their report. I don’t believe they’ll ever find anything, though. Nobody really understood what Lawrence worked on, not in the big picture way.”

Joe grinned. “I know the type. Law enforcement through and through. Takes one to know one, I guess.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” She peered down at her cup. “Do you know what might have happened to him?”

“Maybe.” Joe leaned in. “I sent somebody down here from Iowa, a young man named Andrew, who was looking for a case file I’d loaned Lawrence. Honestly, I figured things would go one way, and Lawrence would swat the boy on the ass and send him back home. Turns out the kid had a way about him, and I think they started working together. This tells me Lawrence was already working on a case and they somehow connected, or he found a use for Andrew.

“The problem is, I don’t have a lot to go on. Something isn’t feeling quite right. The parts aren’t adding up, only I’m not getting a big enough glimpse of the picture.” Joe leaned back in his chair. “I need a bit more.”

“Would these help?” She reached under the stack of folders and paperwork, pulled out two large envelopes, and handed them over.

Anybody who knew Lawrence would recognize his handwriting in a heartbeat. Same perfectly shaped letters. Same size. Unmistakable. And the words written on the front? JOE MURPHY.

Joe’s head cocked to the side. Curiosity? Disbelief? Both? And then she saw something else, a tensing in the man’s posture and narrowing of the eyes.

The predator senses prey?

Joe hefted the two envelopes in his hand. “Lawrence left these for me?”

The lump in her throat returned. “That’s why I was hoping you’d come. I think he knew what he was working on might not end well, and he once told me if anything ever happened to him, you’re the only one he trusted to look into it.”

She watched the man run his fingers across the surface of the envelopes, across his name.

“You didn’t give these to the locals?” he asked. “Or show them?”

She shook her head. “Lawrence trusted you. I’ll put my trust in you before them, too.”

“I don’t know what’s in these.” Joe patted the top envelope. “I can’t promise anything.”

“Don’t expect you to.” Norma sat up straight. Strength. Maybe a little pride. “Maybe one promise. Someone took away my husband, my children’s father. Someone took our love, my happiness, and future. Whoever it is ain’t no better than a roaming, rabid dog, and those kinds of dogs get put down.”

He stared at her. He stared long and hard. “Yes. Yes, they do.”

About the Author 

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

Author Links

Blog/Website  |   Facebook  |   Twitter  |  Instagram

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New Release – The Lucky Cat by L M Somerton

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: The Lucky Cat

Author: L M Somerton

Publisher: Pride Publishing

Cover Artist: Louisa Maggio

Release Date:  September 1, 2020

Genre/s: Contemporary M/M Romance, thriller/suspense, light BDSM

Heat Rating:  4 flames    

Length: 60 343 words/ 241 pages

It is the first book in a new series.

Goodreads


Buy Links

First for Romance  |  Pride Publishing 

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

Antiques and ammunition do not mix well.

Blurb

The antique trade is not known for its life or death excitement and Landry Carran is happy that he has to contend only with furniture polish, woodworm and his irascible boss. He gets all the thrills he needs at his favorite BDSM club, Scorch.

Detective Gage Roskam is hunting stolen jewels taken from a Tokyo exhibition then shipped to Seattle. Mired in a deadly race involving the Yakuza, an enigmatic Englishman and too many indecipherable clues, he doesn’t have time to indulge in Dominant fantasies.

When their worlds collide, neither Landry nor Gage expects things to get quite as complicated—or dangerous—as they do. When Landry steps into the path of some powerful, ruthless people, it’s up to Gage to protect him. Along the way they might just discover what they both need.


Excerpt 

Sometimes there were advantages to being vertically challenged. Landry, his ass sticking out from under a seventeenth-century folding card table, paused to contemplate other occasions when his five-feet-six-inch stature had been of benefit. Not when attempting to get served at his favorite leather bar, though getting squished between all those black-clad hunks was always bearable. He snorted. Not when reaching for his preferred brand of chips at the market, which were always on the top shelf. Put there, he was sure, by the snotty assistant manager as revenge for Landry turning down his offer of a quick blow job in the staff restroom. As if. Never at family meals when he got to sit between his older twin brothers like a blond munchkin between two extras from Vikings. He reversed, wiggling his back end to avoid a willow-patterned platter balancing on a brass coal scuttle. His knees ached and he’d banged his elbow on a cast-iron fireguard, but he had rescued the battered cannonball making an escape attempt beneath teetering piles of stock.

“Well, there’s a pretty sight.”

“Hey!” Landry went for indignant rather than flattered. He tried to get up too soon and banged his head on solid, woodworm-free oak. “Fuck me!” He finally made it to open air and scrambled to his feet, rubbing his already messy hair into further disarray.

“Is that a request?”

Landry looked up…and up…into a pair of twinkling pale-blue eyes. The customer, because that was who Landry guessed the newcomer must be, was drop-dead, my-ass-is-yours gorgeous and he was grinning. Well, smirking.

“Funny man. What can I help you with, sir?” Landry gritted his teeth and remembered that Mr. Lao, his boss, would swat him like a bug if he snarked at a potential patron. Though, on this occasion, it might be worth it to mess with the man.

“Another leading question.”

Landry rolled his eyes. Black hair, blue eyes and a stubbled, chiseled chin did not equate to a free pass. “The massage parlor is three doors down, just before St. Peter’s. You can get a full-body whatever then confess all in the space of an hour.” He made an ineffective attempt to brush dust from the knees of his ripped black jeans. Blue Eyes reached into his jacket and produced a wallet, which he opened to display a Seattle PD badge and ID card.

“Gage Roskam. Is your boss around?”

Landry was more turned on than intimidated by the badge. Cop plus handcuffs equaled sexy time. Every cop he’d ever met had had a ‘don’t fuck with me’ attitude and a natural bent for control—just the type of man Landry liked to mess with. He batted his lashes. “And what makes you think I’m not the boss?”

“You’re not a sixty-eight-year-old Chinese guy by the name of Jian Lao?”

“Very observant, Officer. All that training paid off.” Landry put an extra bit of swing into his hips as he walked toward the cash desk at the rear of the shop.

“Putting your tax dollars to work, brat.”

“Hey! Aren’t you supposed to call me sir, what with you being a public servant and all?”

“In your dreams, and you should show more respect for law enforcement.”

“Gonna make me?”

“You’re lucky I’m on duty or I’d bend you over the nearest flat surface and give you the spanking you’re begging for.”


About the Author 

Lucinda lives in a small village in the English countryside, surrounded by rolling hills, cows and sheep. She started writing to fill time between jobs and is now firmly and unashamedly addicted.

She loves the English weather, especially the rain, and adores a thunderstorm. She loves good food, warm company and a crackling fire. She’s fascinated by the psychology of relationships, especially between men, and her stories contain some subtle (and some not so subtle) leanings towards BDSM.


Social Media Links

Pride Publishing Page  |   Blog/Website and newsletter sign-up   

Facebook  |  Twitter   |  Pinterest    |   Amazon Author Page

Queer Romance Ink  |   Instagram   |   MeWe Group

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


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

New Release – North Point by Thom Collins #giveaway

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: North Point

Author: Thom Collins

Publisher: Pride Publishing 

Release Date: July 7, 2020

Genre/s: Contemporary M/M Romance, Thriller and Suspense

Trope/s: Going home, murder mystery 

Themes: Fatherhood, survival

Heat Rating: 4 flames       

Length: 61 000 words

It is a standalone story

Goodreads 

 

Buy Links

Pride Publishing  |  Kobo  |   Barnes and Noble 

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK  |  Amazon CA 

 

Will an idyllic summer holiday lead Arnie to the love of his life, or the end of it?

Blurb

It should be the start of a perfect vacation. After a period of stress, Arnie Walker takes his nine-year-old son AJ home for the holidays. Arnie grew up in Nyemouth, a picturesque fishing town on the North-East coast of England, and he wants AJ to experience the kind of carefree, endless summer he enjoyed as a boy. It’s a short-lived dream. While taking an evening walk along the North Point cliff, Arnie and AJ witness a murder attempt.

For the volunteer crew of Nyemouth Lifeboat Station, it’s a rescue mission like none before, Helmsman Dominic Melton is part of the team who rescue the victim from the deadly North Sea. When Arnie and Dominic come together in the aftermath of the attack, the attraction is instant. Arnie isn’t looking for a relationship. He’s committed to his son’s well-being and has no time for a distraction like Dominic, even though the handsome ex-naval officer is hard to dismiss. Is it possible for Arnie to fulfill his promises to AJ while falling for Dominic?

Despite the distraction, a fledgling killer remains at large. As feelings between Arnie and Dominic develop, so does the danger they are in. North Point may be a beautiful place to fall in love, but it could also be the most dangerous.

 

Excerpt 

“The police are outside,” Dominic said. “They want statements from all of us.” He had large and very expressive brown eyes. Within them, Arnie saw flecks of amber and gold. With his dark hair and muscular build, Dominic looked every inch a hero. 

No, Arnie corrected himself. This guy doesn’t look like a hero. He is a hero. The entire crew are. It was more than the way he looked. There was an aura about Dominic, an undefined energy that made him incredibly attractive. Arnie had worked with some exceptionally good-looking men in his career, bona fide Hollywood heartthrobs, and none of them had Dominic’s naturally sexy quality. Everything about him—his face, his hair, his build—appealed. He was a knockout. 

Come on, Arnie thought, pulling himself up. You’ve just witnessed a horrendous crime. A woman is fighting for her life this very minute and you’ve taken a fancy to the local hot guy. Get a grip. 

He dunked a biscuit into the tea and ate it. His father was right—the sugar seemed to have an instant effect and his senses became clearer.

“How rough were things out there?” Martin asked. 

“The sea’s getting up,” Dominic answered. “The wind too. Another half hour and we might not have got in there. It wouldn’t have mattered if we did. The tide would have taken her by then. It doesn’t bear thinking about.” 

“You’re amazing,” Arnie said, and meant it. Dominic and the crew of volunteers had risked their lives for the safety of a complete stranger. They might all have died trying to rescue her. 

“I just drove the boat,” he said. “My colleagues— Joanne and Minty—they did the hard work. They transferred the woman from the rock to the boat and kept her stable the whole way back. That’s no easy job in those swells.” 

“Does anyone know who she is?” Martin asked. 

“Minty thought he recognized her from around town but couldn’t be sure. It’s for the police to find out now.” 

“It’s hard to believe something like this could happen here in Nyemouth,” Martin said. “Something so cruel. Who do you think did it? An ex-boyfriend?” Martin and Dominic looked at Arnie expectantly. 

“I’ve no idea,” he said at last, avoiding the intense scrutiny of Dominic’s eyes. “Whoever it was, they kept their face hidden. It could be anyone. And they came from behind. So, even if it was someone she knows, I doubt she’d have recognized them.” 

“Bastard,” Dominic said. He had a slight accent Arnie couldn’t place. Northern. Maybe Yorkshire. Nothing definite. The accent of someone who moved around a lot, losing all but a trace of their regional twang. A bit like his own. It was hard not to look at him. He was stunning. That hair, the glossy sheen of his beard, the moody furrow between his eyebrows. Wow. Despite everything that had happened, Dominic aroused something in Arnie. It should have been the last thing on his mind, but Arnie couldn’t stop the desire he felt for him. He imagined holding him and kissing that mouth, thinking about the body beneath those clothes. 

Stop it. 

Arnie finished his tea. “I should speak to the police. The sooner they know who they’re looking for, the sooner they’ll find him.” 

“Are you feeling better?” Martin asked. 

“Much,” he assured his father. “Thanks to you.” 

“Take care of yourself,” Dominic said. “I wish we’d met under better circumstances. Hopefully I’ll see you around some time.”

 

 

About the Author 

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

He is currently working on a new series.

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

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

 

Social Media Links

Blog/Website  |   Twitter: @thomwolf    

 Instagram: ThomCollinsAuthor  |   Newsletter Sign-up

 

 

Giveaway

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

one of five ebooks from Thom’s backlist

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New Release – Iblīs’ Affliction by Nero Seal #giveaway

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Iblīs’ Affliction

Author: Nero Seal

Publisher: Seal Publishing

Cover Artist: Sublime Novels

Release Date: May 29, 2020

Genre/s: Contemporary, dark M/M romance, thriller/horror

Trope/s: Gay for you, HFN, mafia boss/assassin

Themes: Assassins, mafia, psychopaths, power play, a masochistic character

Heat Rating: 4 flames     

Length: 100 126 words/318 pages

It is a standalone story.

Goodreads

 

Buy Links

Universal Link  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

 

“If you sleep with the Devil, don’t expect to get out of hell.”

 

Blurb

Iblīs (Arabic إبليس)—the primary devil in Islam.

“If you sleep with the Devil, don’t expect to get out of hell.”

DEMANDING. NEEDY. DANGEROUS. Slater is everything Talha doesn’t want but is everything the crime lord needs. The bloodiest ripper of Anatolia, nicknamed Iblīs, kills for him and warms his bed. Yet, there’s no love.

Stuck in a power play, symbiotic relationship, Talha knows that if he shows weakness, he’ll fall at the hands of his own weapon.

THIRST FOR BLOOD, SEX, AND PAIN drives Slater crazy. The need to murder wrenches his soul, and only Talha can cool the deep itch that grows stronger every day. Only Master can understand what Slater needs because Master belongs to Slater. 

Then Master changes the rules to cheat the game. But Talha doesn’t grasp, that there’s no escape from Iblīs’ affliction.

 

 

Excerpt

“Play with me…”

“No.” The sharp reply made Slater’s cheek twitch.

“I’m bored, Master. Play with me.” Irritation found its way into his voice alongside the demanding notes.

“No. I need you fit.” Not compromising, Talha glanced at his watch. “Entertain yourself. I have to work.” 

“Fine…” Slater hissed. 

Talha reached under his seat and pulled out the laptop. Slater’s focus slipped down but stumbled over the shirt. Too many pieces of clothing covered this muscular body for Slater’s liking. The desire to spoil Talha’s designer suit, so the man would strip, poisoned his blood. 

His tennis shoe bumped against the black leather of the seat in front, as Slater spread his legs apart. The zipper vibrated against his groin, coming undone slot by slot a moment before he shimmed his ass out of his jeans and took his heavy cock into his palm. His gaze traveled up Talha’s smooth, square jaw to the hard line of his mouth. Five years older than Slater, Talha was broader, an inch taller, and a bit more muscular. At thirty-three, with his hair brushed back, he looked a couple of years older. His slightly arched brows and nose, broken in fights, enhanced his predatory aura. 

Lust spiked Slater’s blood, splashing red desire all over his vision. Relaxing against his seat, he licked his lips. Talha’s rough skin allured him to lean closer and moisten it with his tongue. 

At the hazy edge of his vision, Zaal’s face contorted in disgust, the conflict of interests twisting his features in an unreadable grimace. Slater didn’t care. 

The air scraped his throat with every shaky breath; precum leaked over his fingers, marring his jeans. The uncomfortable atmosphere thickened as emotions streamed through the air. Disgust, hatred, contempt, discomfort, ignorance—all had colors and scents that crawled under Slater’s skin, igniting his depravity. His soul burned with all-consuming arousal. Slater craved Talha to look, and Talha did. 

A surprised glance held and lingered. The rough mouth curled up in a lopsided smirk as a long, index finger brushed over the chapped lips, betraying Talha’s building arousal. Slater shivered under his cannibalistic stare.

“Need help?” Talha murmured. The cloud of discomfort emitting from Zaal darkened. 

Slamming his laptop closed, Talha put it aside and removed the table. The papers scattered over the floor. His foot slid up the denim fabric toward Slater’s groin. Pressing down, it scratched the skin on the back of Slater’s hands and terminated the stimulation. Not gentle, not caring, but rough, authoritative, merciless. Pressure crushed Slater’s cock and balls, making him shudder.

“Hurts…” The weak complaint only made Talha’s lips twitch. 

“Hands.” The husky voice seeping into Slater’s soul demanded obedience.

Instantly dropping his hands, Slater welcomed the direct skin to sole contact. His lungs burned from oxygen deprivation, forcing his nails to scratch a long trail under his t-shirt to alleviate the pressure in his chest and gain more pain. Up and down, the rough underside of the shoe rubbed his cock, the cruel heel meeting his balls with every thrust. 

“You’re such a horny dog, aren’t you?” Talha observed. 

Slater whimpered and closed his eyes, concentrating on the burning sensation growing in his lower belly. His thighs shook following the jerky rhythm of Talha’s foot as the cleansing pain burned every thought out of his head, leaving only lust behind. 

“What should I do with you?”

Holding his breath, Slater listened to the voice of his master. The voice that had guided him through so much pain and pleasure; the voice that knew what he needed better than anyone else. More. Rougher. Harder. This wasn’t enough; chasing his pleasure, he thrust his hips forward, imprinting himself into Talha’s shoe. A shudder ran through his body, and a weak, shaky plea escaped his lips, “More, Master.”

 

 

About the Author 

Journalist, poker player, casino events manager, designer, and SEO specialist, Nero Seal tried it all before committing to the idea of being an M/M fiction writer. Living in one of the most homophobic countries in the world, he has a lot to say. Being an avid traveler, he creates his imaginary worlds from the places he’s been and the people he’s met.
Characters always talk in his head, forcing him to write their stories, using his 49 kinks as the ultimate weapon of allure. When the voices in his head aren’t slaving him around, he is drawing, hiking, and procrastinating important things in favor of momentary gratification.

 

 

Social Media Links

Blog/Website  |  Facebook  |   Twitter

Instagram  |  Newsletter Sign-up  |  YouTube 

 

 

Giveaway 

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win: 

1 place – 1 paperback of Iblīs’ Affliction

2 place – A direct to Kindle copy of Egoist series (3 books)

3 place – A direct to Kindle copy of Love of the Egoist

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Book Blast – Earnest Ink by Alex Hall

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: Earnest Ink

Author: Alex Hall

Publisher: Nine Star Press

Published: October 14, 2019

Cover Artist: Natasha Snow

Genre/s: Queer Spec Fic, Sci-Fi/Fantasy, Thriller/Suspense

Trope/s: Found family

Themes: Mystery/adventure

Heat Rating:  1 flame

Orientation: Asexual, Pansexual

Identity: Cisgender, Trans

Warning: Depictions of Trauma, Blood, Violence, Murder,

Eating disorders, Body hatred, Transphobia, PTSD, War

Length: 72 100 words/244 pages

It is a standalone book.

Add on Goodreads

 

Blurb 

While twenty-year-old FTM Hemingway is making an excellent living as a tattoo artist in a near-future version of Hell’s Kitchen, the rest of the country is splintered and struggling in the wake of a war gone on for too long. Technology has collapsed, borders rise and fall overnight, and magic has awakened without rhyme, reason, or rule, turning average unwitting citizens into wielders of strange and specific strands of magic.

Hemingway’s particular brand of magic has made him a household name. Not only is he a talented artist, but his work comes to life. Literally.

When NYC’s most infamous serial killer—the East River Ripper—abducts Hemingway’s best friend, Grace, he has only days to save her. Hemingway teams up with his stoic cop roommate to hunt for the killer and rescue Grace before she becomes the Ripper’s latest victim. But as the duo chase clues to the serial killer’s identity, Hemingway begins to fear the magic he and the Ripper share might eventually corrupt him too. 

 

Buy Links

NineStar Press  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

Smashwords  |  B&N  | Kobo

 

Excerpt 

Earnest Ink

Alex Hall © 2019

All Rights Reserved

I work without speaking because that’s the way I prefer it. The vibration of my machine, the softer buzz of the fluorescent lights overhead, the tap of my foot on the pedal—it’s the best music in the world.

When I hit a ticklish spot, the girl I’m working on gasps, jolting in my chair.

“Don’t move,” I say. And then, with a salesman’s false cheer: “Almost done!”

The girl is sweating down the crook of her neck. She’s got silver glitter paint on her eyelids and cheeks, a new fashion trend I just can’t quite get behind. Under my lights the mix of perspiration and makeup looks like a blurry constellation.

She wanted a bee inked onto her collarbone, one of those tiny honeybees you find on good tequila bottles. Easily done, and she met the cash requirement. She’s eager, nervous, and breathing in and out in little puffs.

I can’t remember her name, but that’s fine. Customer relations is Eric’s job.

There’s another kid leaning over my glass counter, watching eagerly as I work. “Does it hurt?” he asks. “When the magic happens?”

The bee’s fat yellow thorax wriggles from side to side as it begins to wake, fighting the pressure of my needle, hungry for life.

“It looks like it hurts,” the kid says. I ignore him.

One minute more and—thanks to my peculiar magic—this bee will fly free.

I’m perched on a swivel stool, a wet paper towel in my hand to wipe away ink. It’s too hot in my studio, even with the industrial fans whirling overhead and the door propped wide open. Evening light slants in through the door and the north-facing, floor-to-ceiling window panes that look out onto West Forty-Sixth. It’s muggy, too warm for New York in October, and all of Hell’s Kitchen is wilting, including my client.

“What does it feel like?” the kid demands. He’s leaving greasy fingerprints on the surface of the glass as he strains to get a better look at what I’m doing. I study him out the corner of my eye, wiping sweat off my nose with the back of my wrist before it drips on my customer. He looks like one of the street punks who have taken to running in packs near the cruise terminals, sleeping in old, abandoned cargo containers and panhandling up and down the marina.

He’s skinny and tall, hair dyed an unsettling violet and styled into spikes all over his head. He’s got a silver ring in his septum and more hoops in his ears; his eyelashes are coated with purple mascara to match his hair. Green glitter paint sparkles on his lids. His T-shirt and jeans are torn and dirty, and he’s got a pack of black-market cigarettes rolled into one sleeve against his upper arm.

 

 

 About the Author 

Sarah Remy/Alex Hall is a nonbinary, animal-loving, proud gamer Geek.

Their work can be found in a variety of cool places, including HarperVoyager, EDGE and NineStar Press

 

Author Links

Blog/Website  |  Twitter: @sarahremywrites 

 

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