I've seen the consequences of blurring the boundaries between teaching and dating, and I am not about to take that kind of risk.
But I didn’t count on Hunter Rhodes walking into my school. Never expected that the broad-shouldered, stubble-jawed, absolute glory of a man would be such a sweet and caring father. Or that as a seemingly straight man, he might decide he wants me.
If my Nana has her way...I'll be in love with someone by the end of the school year, but there's only one man who tempts me.
With her matchmaking becoming overwhelming and half the single women in Granville setting their sights on Hunter, we're both feeling the pressure. Faking a relationship could get everyone off our backs.
It seems like fun and games for Hunter, but separating pretend feelings from real won't be so simple for me. And then there's that rule...
Can I date a DILF without disaster—or will all my fears come true?
Don't Date a DILF is Book 1 of Rules We Break, a spin-off series from Games We Play, set in the small, quirky town of Granville, where nosy residents meddle in one another's lives, great friendships are made, and silly innuendos are a way of life.
Excerpt
Clark’s voice filtered in from the hallway.
“Nana, for the last time, I was trying… Yeah, well, maybe I should run all your proposed dates through my friends first if you think Percy Helix was a good choice!”
I smirked at his sass, then had to muffle a laugh when he followed it up with, “No, I’m not being sassy. I’m sorry, Nana.”
Fuck, that was adorable.
Clark was a grown man who had his shit together far more than I ever would, and yet here he was, getting scolded by his grandmother. There was something so sweet and wholesome about that.
He glanced toward the classroom and caught sight of me through the doorway. He held up one finger, in the universal sign to wait a minute.
“We can talk more later, Nana. I have a parent here for a meeting, okay? But I really don’t think another setup is a good idea… Because I don’t. Because it’s uncomfortable!” He groaned theatrically. “Yes, okay, we’ll talk later.”
He lowered the phone and turned toward me.
I winced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”
He shrugged. “Well, you were at the pub, so…not like you didn’t know already.”
“Your nana feels pretty strongly about setting you up with a date, huh?”
“Unfortunately.”
“My mother hassles me every time we talk too,” I said.
“Must be something in the water,” Clark said with a pout.
Still adorable.
“Yeah, I actually lost my cool at work. Yelled at Tucker about how everyone in this town wants me to date. You know what we should do?”
“What?”
“Go on a date together.” I laughed. “That would shut everyone up.”
Clark’s eyes widened. “I think it would do the opposite.”
“You know what I mean though. Can’t set up a couple of guys who are already dating.” I wiggled my eyebrows. “Genius, right?”
About the Author
DJ Jamison writes romances about everyday life and extraordinary love featuring a variety of queer characters, from gay to bisexual to asexual. DJ grew up in the Midwest in a working-class family, and those influences can be found in her writing through characters coping with real-life problems: money troubles, workplace drama, family conflicts and, of course, falling in love. DJ spent more than a decade in the newspaper industry before chasing her first dream to write fiction. She spent a lifetime reading before that and continues to avidly devour her fellow authors’ books each night. She lives in Kansas with her husband, two sons, one snake, and a sadistic cat named Birdie.
An actress with a secret, a journalist with a dream, and forbidden love that could change everything.
Blurb Desperate to save her family’s dying magazine, love is the last thing on 26-year-old Daphne Fernandez's mind when she agrees to go undercover as a makeup artist to scoop a juicy story on the city’s most popular telenovela star. But a spur-of-the-moment kiss makes it more complicated. A cheating boyfriend might not be Bombshell Bridget’s only secret.
Bridget Blake has only ever wanted one thing in her life: to be herself. But her overbearing momanger insists showing the world who she really is would mean the death of her blossoming career. So when the new makeup artist fights her way under Bridget’s perfectly moisturized, paparazzi-proof skin, it’s everything she can do to keep the façade in place. Until one spontaneous kiss turns her world upside down. With Daphne, Bridget is the brave, fun-loving, take-no-prisoners girl she’s always wanted to be. But embracing her new self may mean leaving behind everything she’s ever worked for. Is love really worth it?
Book two in the standalone sapphic celebrity romance series Entertaining Love.
Excerpt The Meet Cute
A movement catches my attention as I hesitantly reach for a shimmering eyeshadow palette young woman with black curly hair and gold-rimmed glasses browses the store with ease. Her hands expertly select items from the shelves as she navigates the space in her manual wheelchair.
She looks up a second later, and her brown eyes meet mine with a flicker of recognition. She freezes, pursing her lips before finally rolling towards me with a warm smile.
“Hi there.” Her voice is soft and melodic with a hint of a Hispanic accent.. “Welcome to the Mystic Beauty. I couldn’t help but notice you look a bit lost. Can I help you find something?”
I adopt an affected Southern drawl. The last thing I need is for my stupidity about something as simple as make-up to be splattered all over the tabloids. “I, um, I’m just looking for some makeup…” Well, duh. I mentally facepalm myself. Why else would I be here? I pluck one from a nearby display and hold it up with an exaggerated flourish. “Clearly, I’m a bit lost.”
“Of course!” she replies, wheeling next to me and holding out her free hand. “I’m Daphne.”
“Nice to meet you, Daphne,” I say. “I’m… Sarah.”
“Sarah” is the first name that comes to mind, and I hope it’s generic enough not to invite suspicion. Daphne’s hand is warm and steady as she shakes mine, and I can’t help but be grateful for her genuine kindness.
“Alright, Sarah,” she says, releasing my hand and gesturing toward a display of eyeshadow palettes. “Let’s find you something that suits your style.”
As we navigate the aisles, Daphne explains different products and techniques easily. After a few minutes, I no longer feel like an idiot for asking one too many questions I should definitely already know the answer to after so many years in the film industry. But rather someone just trying to take the time to learn a new trade. The longer we wander through the aisles, the more. I find myself becoming intrigued by this mysterious woman who clearly has a passion for her craft.
“Can I ask about your makeup?” I ask, admiring the delicate lines of gold and silver that frame her brown eyes. “It’s stunning.”
“Thank you,” A blush colors her cheeks and I bite back a smile of my own. She’s cute when she’s flustered. “I’m an aspiring special effects makeup artist. I love playing with different styles and trying new things.”
“Wow,” I exhale softly. “That’s really amazing.” It’s not just her skill that impresses me, but the genuine joy in her expression. Just saying the word seems to light up the room, and I can’t help craving more of it from her. As we continue our conversation, I slowly lower my sunglasses, allowing Daphne to see my green eyes.
“By the way, if you ever need any help or advice in the future, feel free to reach out to me,” She hands me a small business card with her contact information. “You seem like someone who could use a friend.”
I take the card with a grateful smile.
“I may just have to take you up on that.” I wink, and we share a laugh. My heart skips a bit, and my chest as a blush pinkens her cheeks.
“Great!” Daphne smiles warmly as she expertly navigates her wheelchair down the aisles, pointing out more products and explaining their uses. I listen intently, absorbing every word like a sponge. “Primer is important for long-lasting makeup,” she explains, handing me a small tube to examine. “And don’t forget about setting powder!”
“Good to know,” I muse, turning the tub between my fingers. “You know my makeup artist was recently fired,” I confess quietly, glancing around and relieved to find out the store is mostly empty. “It’s been really frustrating trying to find someone new who understands my style.”
Daphne’s features soften with sympathy. “I’m sorry to hear that. What kind of look were you going for?”
I hesitate, dipping my head down and running my hands along my arms. “I’m… honestly not sure. I don’t know as much about makeup as I probably should.”
Her eyes light up, and she squeezes my hand. That’s OK. We can figure it out together. I actually have some ideas if you’re interested.”
“Really?” My heart flutters with anticipation. “I would love that.”
As we continue to explore the store, Daphne’s passion and creativity spark my own. I can’t help but feel drawn to her, her talent and kindness shining through with every word. The longer we talk, the more amazed I am that this woman barely knows me has already offered me more understanding and support than most people in my life.
“Thank you, Daphne,” I murmur, briefly taking her hand in mine. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”
“Of course.” As we stand between shelves of sparkling eyeshadows and vibrant lipsticks, I watch Daphne’s deft fingers pluck an iridescent shade from its perch. The glittering powder dusts her fingertips as she swipes it gently across my hand, creating a shimmering arc of color. “This would look amazing on you,” she says, grinning. “It’ll bring out the green in your eyes.”
“Wow, that’s beautiful,” I breathe, captivated by the way the light dances across the tiny flecks of pigment. “Do you really think I could pull it off?”
Daphne smiles bashfully and flicks her hand through the air. I’m sure you could pull anything off.” She laughs, and I can’t help but feel a flutter in my chest. The way her eyes crinkle at the corners and her lips curve into a smile… it’s all so enticing.
For the rest of the afternoon, Daphne guides me through the store, picking out different shades and colors for me to try on.
Daphne’s face lights up as we pause by a display of elaborate prosthetics. “I love special effects makeup,” she confesses as she gently fingers one of the masks. “It’s such a powerful way to transform someone and tell a story.”
“Really? Did you study it?”
Daphne nods, but her smile dims. “I did, but finding work has been difficult, especially because of my disability. Some people just can’t see past the wheelchair.”
A pulse of anger flares through me, but I stamp it down. This woman is a stranger. I remind myself. Still, I hate how judgmental people can be. “I’m sorry, Daphne. That’s so unfair.”
“Thank you.” Her brown eyes meet mine and my throat dries up. “But I won’t let it stop me. I know what I’m capable of, and someday, the right opportunity will come along.”
Her determination and resilience never cease to amaze me. Nodding I plant my hands on my hips. “I know it will.” Suddenly, an idea takes root in my mind. A bold, daring idea that could change both our lives. “Daphne,” I begin, my voice wavering with nerves. “I have a proposition for you.”
She tips her head to the side and I grin.
“Would you consider being my personal makeup artist?” The words tumble out before I can second-guess myself. “I know it’s not special effects, but I think together, we could create something amazing.”
The faint scent of lavender fills my nostrils as I watch Daphne’s eyes dart back and forth. Her fingers tap the armrest of her wheelchair, betraying her uncertainty.
“I… I don’t know, Bridget,” she hedges, looking down at her lap. “I’m so honored, but… I can’t I just started down at the warehouse and I can’t just abandon my crew.”
Oh. My heart sinks. “Of course. But if you change your mind…”
“Gracias.” Daphne smiles weakly, the gold rims of her glasses catching the store’s fluorescent lights.
“De nada,” I murmur softly, warmth blossoming in my chest.
“Now, let’s get back to finding the perfect makeup for you, shall we?”
The corners of her mouth lift into a genuine smile, and I watch as her hands deftly select products, her fingers moving with practiced ease despite the tremors that sometimes betray her. Her passion for her craft is evident in every gesture, and it only strengthens my belief that she’s the perfect person for the job.
“Thank you, Daphne, “I say as she bags up all my purchases a few minutes later.
She smiles, and my pulse speeds up again. “You’re welcome, Sarah. I’m just glad I could help.” She folds the last of my purchases into the bag and hands it over to me with a nod.
Daphne’s cheeks flame scarlet as I scrawl my number on her hand. “Here,” I say, trying not to let my embarrassment show. “If you ever change your mind, feel free to call or text any time.”
Her gaze flits between the numbers and me. Finally, she gives a small nod and murmurs her thanks. As I back away, feeling oddly proud of myself for taking such a risk, Daphne watches me go with an intensity that leaves me slightly breathless.
About the Author
Claerie Kavanaugh has spent most of her life telling stories, but she never imagined herself writing romance. In fact, she used to think it should only be reserved for Hallmark movies. It wasn't until college, when she discovered fanfiction, that she learned what romance was truly about: not just fluffy relationships and happily-ever-afters, but human connection, the desire to push one another to be better, and create hope that somewhere, somehow, everyone has someone.
When she's not writing, she loves to travel and explore new cultures, helping other authors polish their works as a freelance editor, and singing while doing so. Broadway musicals are her soul-food, something her mother and sister know well. She constantly blasts the newest soundtrack through the halls of their Missouri home, much to the chagrin of her very sassy and spoiled cat.
Talented Serafino is apprenticed to Mastro Filargiro, one of the city's leading artists.
Serafino finds love, but his mastery takes him on a perilous journey across Italy's feuding city-states, unaware that his virtuosity is a threat to the pre-eminence of the hitherto unchallenged masters of the Renaissance.
His life must take a dramatic new turn in the hope of escaping their enmity.
Washington DC, 2008.
Parker’s first year at Georgetown High is coming to an end.
His father is appointed Consul General in Florence. Parker enthusiastically embraces his new life and befriends handsome Beppe.
But almost everyone around him has been keeping secrets. And the fifteenth-century palazzo where his family now lives unexpectedly reveals its long-buried mysteries.
Separated by five hundred years, yet united by their talent, Serafino and Parker embark on similar journeys of discovery while fellow artists, assassins, princes and envious classmates rage and scheme around them.
Excerpt
He hears the final bell. The school erupts, classroom doors slam open barely holding on to their hinges, the metallic noise of lockers being opened and shut again is deafening.
Summer break is here. A torrent of students regurgitates into the street causing an almighty traffic jam. SUVs with mothers or nannies at the wheel vie for space, right of way, and ultimately a not-too-subtle parade of the best four wheels in Georgetown.
This is no cheap suburbia, most of their husbands or employers are toiling at some desk or chairing important meetings at Foggy Bottom, on Capitol Hill or the White House. Most often all three.
Parker walks out of the front door with his hands in the tight pockets of his slacks and his rucksack on his shoulders. A few hugs with the girls and some high-fives with fellow boys ensue. His older brother is already waiting at the bike stand. When he gets there the high-five is followed by a manly hug.
‘Dude, summer break and birthday tomorrow. Lucky little bro.’
‘Bet you know what the old folks have got me.’
‘Sure I do.’
They start cycling. When Parker reached the age of fourteen, their parents went out and bought a cheap bike for his growing frame. The Hendersons’ pristine drive sports the standard two SUVs parked neatly by each other, yet their mother wasn’t fond of school runs. In their opinion he was still a bit too young to cycle all the way to school by himself but the city had finally built some decent bike lanes and Tommy was now seventeen so they made them promise to stick together on the journey.
Tommy, who finds cycling by himself rather dull - he’s not much of a loner, any activity has to involve other people - had gone out of his way to promise to look out for his little brother at traffic junctions.
They had also promised never to set off without their helmets, though Tommy had swiftly pointed out to Parker that “setting off” with them was not the same as “wearing them”. Parker, the more academic of the pair, had found the distinction clever though he had laughed while retorting that it was still cheating.
So when they are a couple of blocks away from home they stop, unlock their helmets from their rucksacks’ straps and don them before reaching the driveway. A few times Parker had remarked that one day they might get caught by their mother driving by.
He walks to the garage door to open it but he’s shouted down by Tommy who parades himself in front of it.
‘Off-limits until tomorrow, bro.’
A smiling Parker leaves his bike with his brother and heads for the kitchen door. Tommy has just narrowed down his guesses for his present. One doesn’t need a garage to hide a watch or a pair of trainers.
To his surprise he finds them both at home, sat at the kitchen table with two mugs of coffee in their hands. After kissing his mother on the cheek (Tommy is starting to cringe at that, but Parker still likes it. Tomorrow’s birthday might change that), he meets his father’s closed fist with his; they have gradually stopped hugging.
‘Why are you home?’ Parker’s face frowns in suspicion. ‘You’ve got the day off tomorrow, haven’t you, Dad?’
‘‘No worries. All free tomorrow. Left office early, not much to do at the moment. There might be a few changes in my career; new President, new direction.’
About the Author
Paolo G. Grossi was born and raised in Milan. Thirty years ago he spent a weekend in London and decided to stay. Like most Italians, opera and the visual arts are his main passions. When not writing, you will surely find him attending a performance, visiting a museum and, of course, spending some time cycling in Berlin or around the Wannsee. He lives in London with his partner David.
Sometimes love leads to sex and sometimes sex leads to love.
Blurb
From the hottest new voice in gay erotica, Carter Carson.
Jon grew up in a small town in the foothills of South Carolina. He knew what he was at 14 years old, but also knew his small town and his mom would never accept the real Jon. His best friend in school was a girl who had a brother two years older that he thought was cute. But, the social structure of high school meant they rarely spoke to each other. That all changed one summer when Jon turned 20.
When his best friend's brother, Jake, called home after moving to Myrtle Beach, she told him Jon was having trouble getting a job. Jon said he could get him on where he worked and offered to come get him. His sister didn't know Jake worked at a nightclub in Myrtle Beach that was the hottest gay hangout with scantily clad go-go boys and that all the dancers lived in an enormous beach house with all expenses paid for by the owner of the club. Within days of moving in, Jon was in sensory overload in a house filled with hot guys. He would also begin to fall hard for his best friend's brother and they would share some incredible nights. Would they last?
Here is Carter's best book yet, filled with suspense, erotic scenes and more.
Excerpt
2 – Myrtle Beach, Here I Come
Considering I had no idea what I was getting myself into, I can’t believe how excited I was for Thursday to hurry up and get here. When it did, I was packed and ready to go. My mom wasn’t wild about the idea, especially since I wouldn’t tell her any details about the job I was getting. Plus, she knew who was coming to get me and worried I was just being told I was getting a good job so he could get in my pants.
Jake finally arrived about 3:30 in the afternoon. When I opened the door, it took me a minute to speak. I didn’t remember him being so damn cute. On top of that, he had a nice tan and had died his hair blonde. With his almost hypnotic blue eyes, he looked like somebody out of a twink porn movie. He was also in really good physical shape, a lot better than he was when he lived here. With the tight T-shirt he was wearing, I could see his six-pack and nice smooth chest.
After Jake spoke briefly to my mom, whom we both could tell wasn’t interested in talking to him much, we packed up his car. As we
were about to leave, my mom asked him, “You’re not taking Jon down there and get him into some drug thing that’s dangerous, are you?”
“No, ma’am,” Jake said. “I’d never do anything to put Jon in danger. He’s my sister’s best friend.”
My mom had no response. I went over and gave her a hug and told her I’d call when we got to Myrtle Beach. Within a minute, we were on the road for the three-hour drive. On the way down, he started telling me stories about what it was like in the beach house. He called it “a house full of twinks.”
I just hoped it was as great as he claimed. I don’t want to give too much away, but it was going to be even better than I could fantasize, at least for a while.
About the Author
Carter Carson lives in North Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, where he enjoys watching British crime dramas and writing about his fantasies.
Release Date: Newsletter Serial - The first chapter goes out to subscribers on June 1
Genres: Thriller, gay romance, suspense
Tropes: organized crime, boss/ secretary, angst
Themes: relationships are hard, thriller, mystery, suspense
Heat Rating: 4 flames
Length: To be determined
It is a standalone story, but it is best enjoyed as part of the series
It does not end on a cliffhanger.
FREE monthly Serial of Amy's latest book.
Only newsletter subscribers will be able to read the story.
Exclusive newsletter serial sign-up link:
https://www.amytasukada.com/free-stuff/
A dead prostitute. A mysterious meeting. And a retiring cop set on righting past wrongs…
Blurb
Kyoto mafia don Nao Murata is enjoying a quiet reign. Now that his boyfriend, Aki Hisona, has a clean bill of health, they can finally have some much-needed intimate time. If only a persistent detective wasn’t about to throw a wrench in those plans.
Aki’s ready to fully consummate their relationship, but Nao doesn’t appreciate his scandalous flirting in the office. Being left alone to deal with one of Nao’s top men, Aki ends up learning about a secret that puts a crack in Nao’s control.
Amidst worries about whether they’re as compatible between the sheets as they are on the streets, Nao and Aki are forced to work with the police to cement Nao’s reign. As the secret begins to unravel, they’re pulled deeper into a treacherous game of cat and mouse.
Now it’s no longer just their love life they have to fight for…
Prelude to Decay is the seventh book of The Yakuza Path thriller series. If you enjoy gripping suspense, authentic Japanese traditions, and a healthy dose of gay drama, then you’ll devour Amy Tasukada’s latest instalment.
About the Author
International best-selling author Amy Tasukada writes thrilling times of crime, love, and gore. Readers who crave diverse characters, unique settings, and edge-of-your-seat action will devour her Yakuza Path series. Readers who seek less blood and more love will swoon over the Yakuza Path Romance and Would it Be Okay to Love You? Series. Amy is an atheist, queer author who enjoys drinking tea, Japanese street fashion and visual kei music. Her calico cat, O’Hara, is never far from her side. Amy lives in North Texas, but is always planning her next trip to Japan.
When the only course of action is revenge, only the most damaged man is capable of maximum destruction.
Blurb
Hired by a Chicago billionaire to pluck his runaway son from the Palm Springs compound of a wealthy pedophile, former military extraction and information specialist, Cordon Finn, believes it will be a simple snatch and go job with a big payday. But after grabbing the kid at a Pride Week party, Cordon discovers that nothing is as it seems. His quarry isn’t underage, and isn’t the billionaire’s son, but rather his trans-daughter who goes by the name of Lucious. And her father wants Lucious dead, putting Cordon, who is dealing with his own sexual identity, in the crosshairs as well. After fighting off a cadre of assassins, Cordon vows to keep Lucious alive. But when the billionaire kidnaps Cordon’s girlfriend and comes after his family and friends, Cordon takes the fight back to the billionaire’s door. With the surprising help of Lucious, as well as his sister, Annie, Cordon battles the billionaire’s small army, until he’s face-to-face with the billionaire. And in this battle, there will be only one man left standing, the one who is capable of maximum destruction.
Excerpt
Arriving at his car, Cordon puts down the top and tosses his bag in before opening the door to climb in, when he hears, “We’re even,” from behind him.
Turning, he finds the young guy, smiling cheekily, standing behind him.
“Even?” Cordon asks, unsure.
“You enjoyed the show I put on for you inside, I enjoyed the show you put on for me as you sashayed across the parking lot,” the kid says.
“I don’t sashay. And I didn’t take off my shirt for you.”
The kid giggles, rolling his eyes dramatically as he says, “Liar. That’s the only reason you took off your shirt. Hoping I’d notice and come running up to you.”
“And here you are.”
The kid’s face squishes up like he’s eaten rotten lemons.
“I’m a sucker for a muscle daddy. And you certainly got size. Hopefully, in the places I can’t see.”
“How old are you?” Cordon asks, ignoring the kid’s comment.
“Twenty-two.”
“Now who’s the liar?”
The kid smirks mischievously, hand on hip. “Nineteen. Five-ten. Twenty-eight-inch waist. My name is Gio. Want to know my cock size?”
Cordon doesn’t answer, which causes Gio to grin mischievously.
“Come on, I saw you looking at it. Though I imagine being a giant, yours is bigger. But for my frame, mine is super-sized,” he laughs.
“This bullshit work?”
“Work how?”
“On other guys. Talking about your dick like it’s a 78-inch flat screen.”
“Just the ones who I think are interested,” Gio laughs, then suddenly gets more direct as he adds, “or have the money to pay.”
Cordon nods, understanding more clearly Gio’s game. “Which one do you think I am?” Cordon asks.
“You’re driving a really nice car, so you got the money. But I don’t think you have to pay men to have sex with you, unless you do it for the control, or you’re married, which I wouldn’t doubt, and you hope money will keep your trick’s mouth shut. Either way, I know you’re interested. I always know.”
“You party up at Lansing’s?” Cordon asks, tiring of the conversation.
Again, Gio’s smile fades, his head turning slightly as if looking at the Cordon from a different angle might jog his memory. “Did we meet up there?” Gio asks more of himself than Cordon. “No. I’d remember. Lansing would never invite a guy like you. All his little boys would flit around you like butterflies to bougainvillea, and he doesn’t allow anyone to steal his thunder. You a cop?”
“No.”
“You know if I ask, you have to tell me,” Gio inserts.
“That’s bullshit. But I’m not.”
Gio takes Cordon in silently for a moment. And even though he knows he shouldn’t say too much to the statuesque man he doesn’t know, Gio is not adept at shutting up, even when it’s in his best interest.
“Sure, I party up at Lansing’s. Never lived there, though. Those guys think Lansing’s the answer to their prayers. Please. He has a revolving bedroom door with guys going in all young, dewy-eyed, and hopeful, and coming out all used up and sad. The man’s an emotional vampire. Sucks the life out of everybody. They all think that he’s going to help make them a star, or they’ll meet some other old queen through Lansing that will. And they all end up going back home, broke, hungry, and completely jaded, or they end up selling it to pay the rent. Hell, even when you’re up there, all that’s there are other fairies just like them or some dried-up, old, coke addict trying to get his Viagra dick up your ass. Don’t know anybody Lansing’s actually helped. Ever.”
“You don’t hold back, do you?”
“Just so I know who just insulted me, what’s your name?”
“Cordon.”
“Cordon from where?”
“Chicago.”
“You’re a long way from home, aren’t you, Dorothy? Are you here for Pride Week? I mean, I don’t get that vibe from you, that you’re down here to party with the boys. But you could be one of those sad, married men who told your wife back in Chicago that you’re going on a golfing trip or a hunting trip or something equally lame. And you’re here because you really like dick but you’re Catholic or worse, Evangelical, like my parents, and your guilt is off the charts because you married some pretty blonde, church-going girl, you have two kids, but all you think about when you’re fucking her is guys like me.”
“If you’re paying and I get to pick the restaurant,” Gio quickly tacks on.
Cordon lets a half-smile slip on his lip at Gio’s young, alpha nonsense.
“Get in,” Cordon says.
About the Author
Mr. Baker has written seven novels, including WHAT REMAINS, THE VIRGIN DAIQUIRI, and THE WEDDING GIFT. The film rights to his beloved novel, HONEYMOON WITH HARRY, were purchased by New Line Cinema. The book also spawned two sequels, A SECOND HONEYMOON WITH HARRY and THE LAST HONEYMOON WITH HARRY. Bart has also written for the theater, having eight plays produced around the world. The film rights to his play, RELAY, were purchased by Warner Bros., which led him into screenwriting. Bart has had 18 produced film and TV credits, including the feature film, LIVE WIRE, starring Pierce Brosnan, the BRIDE trilogy of films for CBS, as well as projects for CBS, ABC, FX, The Family Channel, Lifetime, The USA Network, and Hallmark among others.
Cold cases, hot leads, a psychic psychopath, a copycat killer, cursed objects, the trial of the century—and wedding plans.
Blurb
Cold cases, hot leads, a psychic psychopath, a copycat killer, cursed objects, the trial of the century—and wedding plans.
Psychic medium Simon Kincaide and sexy homicide detective Vic D'Amato met hunting a supernatural serial killer. Since then, Simon has become a police consultant on cases involving the paranormal, and Vic has gotten over his doubts about Simon's abilities being real. Along the way, they fell in love and got engaged. But it seems like the danger never ends.
Now, the first case Simon and Vic worked together comes back to haunt them as the killer goes to court and all hell breaks loose. The killer has a crazy fan setting curses on key players in the upcoming trial. Ghosts from an old cold case suggest that someone got away with murder. And a supernatural creature attracted to fear and death is using the Grand Strand as its feeding ground. Simon and Vic feel like they're waging a war on all fronts, but with the stakes so high, there can be No Surrender!
About the Author
Morgan Brice is the romance pen name of bestselling author Gail Z. Martin. Morgan writes urban fantasy male/male paranormal romance, with plenty of action, adventure and supernatural thrills to go with the happily ever after. Gail writes epic fantasy and urban fantasy, and together with co-author hubby Larry N. Martin, steampunk and comedic horror, all of which have less romance, more explosions. Characters from her Gail books make frequent appearances in secondary roles in her Morgan books, and vice versa.
On the rare occasions Morgan isn’t writing, she’s either reading, cooking, or spoiling two very pampered dogs.
Series include Witchbane, Badlands, Treasure Trail, Kings of the Mountain and Fox Hollow. Watch for more in these series, plus new series coming soon!
Supernatural Secret Service agents Owen Sharps and Calvin Springfield meet on the train to their new assignment in St. Louis, and sparks fly between them. But it's 1897, and they need to be very careful—falling in love can be dangerous for men like them.
It's their first case together, investigating mysterious disappearances—including the two agents who preceded them. Grim evidence leads them to look for a darker purpose. Old ghosts haunt the railroad line, zombie rise, signs point to ritual sacrifice, and they suspect someone is trying to open the gates of hell.
Can Calvin and Owen stop the mayhem, thwart the vampires, and find true love, or will everything go up in smoke?
Peacemaker is a high-stakes steampunk MM romance thrill ride filled with found family, paranormal Pinkertons, intrepid reporters, mysterious disappearances, nefarious land brokers, hellhounds, zombies, vengeful spirits, dark spells, absinthe magic, a ruthless vampire railroad baron and a love that won't be denied.
Before Colt and Winchester, there was Sharps & Springfield!
Excerpt
September 1897
Chapter 1
Owen
Owen Sharps chuckled as he read his book on the train to St. Louis. He had been waiting to get a copy of Dracula, the sensational new book from England, and had found one in a New Pittsburgh bookstore before heading to the station.
It’s got flair, and I like how splashy Van Helsing is, but it’s obvious Stoker never fought a real vampire.
Owen had heard about the book and its growing reputation for being frightening and violent. So far nothing he’s written compares to being covered in blood in an ice-cold cemetery at midnight, hammering a stake through a vampire’s heart, and trying not to get bitten. Then again, maybe I have a skewed perspective.
“Pardon me, is this seat taken?” A drop-dead gorgeous man waited for an answer. He had raven black hair, bright blue eyes, and plush lips that filled Owen with impure thoughts. The stranger carried a suitcase and an overcoat, with a newspaper folded under his arm. Owen took one look and would have booted his granny to the cargo car to free up the seat for the man.
“It’s all yours.” Owen gave a dismissive wave, tearing his gaze away so he’d quit staring. It wouldn’t do to drool.
“I think this might be the last open seat on the train.” The man stowed his suitcase and coat, settling in across from Owen with his newspaper.
Owen couldn’t help giving him the once-over. He figured the man to be slightly shorter than his own six-foot-two inches, and from the cut of his suit jacket, he had a trim, muscular build. Owen made a mental note to be sure to get a glimpse of what was likely a prime ass when they left the train.
“Where are you headed?” Owen thought that a little conversation couldn’t hurt. He wanted to remember the man’s voice to go with his image on nights when he sought relief alone with his hand. This fellow would never know he’d been promoted to the lead in Owen’s secret fantasies. Owen particularly liked the contrast between the man’s dark hair and athletic body to his own rangy build, blond hair, fair skin, and green eyes.
“St. Louis.” The man returned Owen’s scrutiny with an assessing gaze.
Owen sat up a bit straighter, oddly wanting to make a good impression on this person he was unlikely to see again. He felt the weight of the man’s inspection, which made him wonder. Is he a cop? Private investigator? Or maybe...like me?
They were both dressed equally well in suits that were department store quality but not bespoke. The stranger’s hair was fairly short but more fashionable than military, and he was clean-shaven. Owen wondered what a hint of dark stubble might do to heighten those high cheekbones and accentuate the impossibly blue eyes, and he felt himself chub in his pants.
None of that, he admonished silently. It wouldn’t do to raise suspicion. He probably just wants to make sure I’m not the sort to steal his suitcase when he’s not looking.
“I’m headed there myself,” Owen said. “Business or pleasure?”
The man looked amused at the question but not annoyed, which boded well. “Business. You?”
Owen nodded, surprised that he wanted to continue the conversa- tion instead of returning to his book. “The same. I’ve heard the food there is good, but I doubt I’ll have time to do any exploring.” He found himself at ease with the stranger. “Will you be staying in the city, or going on from there?”
“I’ll meet with my boss, but I spend most of my time traveling,” the fellow replied. “I don’t get to stay long in any one place.”
So we have that in common too. Makes it unlikely that we might meet up again the next time I come back to St. Louis. “Me, too. I’m a bit of a rolling stone.”
About the Author
Morgan Brice is the romance pen name of bestselling author Gail Z. Martin. Morgan writes urban fantasy male/male paranormal romance, with plenty of action, adventure and supernatural thrills to go with the happily ever after. Gail writes epic fantasy and urban fantasy, and together with co-author hubby Larry N. Martin, steampunk and comedic horror, all of which have less romance, more explosions. Characters from her Gail books make frequent appearances in secondary roles in her Morgan books, and vice versa.
On the rare occasions Morgan isn’t writing, she’s either reading, cooking, or spoiling two very pampered dogs.
Series include Witchbane, Badlands, Treasure Trail, Kings of the Mountain and Fox Hollow. Watch for more in these series, plus new series coming soon!
