Blog Tour - Light From The Grave by Sara Dobie Bauer #giveaway

NEW RELEASE

Book Title: Light from the Grave

Author: Sara Dobie Bauer

Publisher: Carnation Books 

Cover Artist: Natasha Snow Designs

Release Date: October 24, 2023

Genres: Paranormal M/M romance 

Tropes: witches, anti-hero, age gap

Themes: grief, mental health, redemption, family

Heat Rating: 2 flames

Length: 94 000 words/374 pages

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

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

I’m what nightmares are made of, but I’m not sure who’s more dangerous: him or me.

Blurb 

In the world of witches, Keller Rex is a legendary monster—a dark sorcerer with a gift for suffering. He has long been the protector of the Zayne coven and their ancestral home in Charleston, South Carolina. When the family matriarch, Vivian Zayne, dies under mysterious circumstances, he is tasked with finding the only person who can open her sealed Book of Shadows: the son no one knew she had.

Dylan Quinn has never bothered to figure out why cats follow him everywhere, but it’s been that way for as long as he can remember. After the unexpected passing of his adoptive mother, he had to make a new home for himself in small-town Ohio. Things have been quiet ever since, but lately, there are strange voices in his dreams and a sense of being watched.

When a striking Southern gent appears in town, Dylan welcomes the distraction. Keller is handsome and charming, but Dylan can tell there’s something else, something eerie about him. And he discovers he's right, as Keller goes from being Dylan’s seducer… to his abductor.

Now back in Charleston, Dylan’s newfound family is shocked when it’s discovered his magical affinity is for death itself. Despite his fears, he’ll need to learn to control his terrifying powers in order to open the Zayne Book of Shadows. He also needs to keep his coven safe, and time is running out. The estate's protective wards expire on Halloween, and power-hungry witches from all over are ready to pounce.

While Dylan’s awakening darkness threatens to overwhelm him, Keller finds himself confronted by feelings he thought long dead. Keller will do anything to protect his young necromancer and open Vivian’s Book of Shadows, but the Zaynes are in for a surprise when Dylan resurrects someone he shouldn’t.

Excerpt 

Dylan stood by his kitchen island drinking a glass of water and froze at the sudden arrival in his home. Keller moved with inhuman speed. He appeared right in front of Dylan, who gasped and dropped his glass, which shattered on the wooden floor at their feet. Taking hold of Dylan’s shirt, Keller shoved the smaller man against the fridge.

“What are you?”

Dylan’s chin trembled. “What?”

Keller clenched his teeth. “What are you?”

“I-I don’t understand, but I’d really like you to leave please.”

Keller let go of Dylan. He chuckled and paced halfway across the small apartment and back. He was tired of playing games, tired of trying to work his magic on someone who seemed impervious to his influence, so Keller chose truth. “Your family is waiting,” he said. “Long story short: your biological mother is dead. She was a bitch who won’t be missed, and there is no time to spare. Several lives depend on you, so we need to go. Now.”

“What the fuck, man?” His words shook. “I don’t know who you think I am, but my biological mother died giving birth to me. That’s why my adopted mom agreed to give me her family name.”

“Zayne,” Keller said.

Dylan took a startled step back and again rammed right into the fridge. “How do you know that?”

“Because your biological mother did not die giving birth to you. She died a week ago.”

“How?”

Keller snorted. “That’s up for debate.”

“I don’t—”

Keller held up a hand between them, a silent but visible order for Dylan to listen. “Your biological mother’s name was Vivian Zayne, and she was a very powerful witch. We, as her coven, didn’t know you existed until the reading of her will. Imagine our surprise.”

Dylan’s eyes widened. “What?”

“You come from a family of witches.”

“Witches aren’t real.”

“Are you sure?”

Dylan didn’t look sure of anything. He looked like a frightened child.

Keller leaned his elbows on the kitchen island. “How long have cats been following you?”

“They’re just … cats,” Dylan said. “They follow everyone.”

“They follow you. How long have they been following you? Your whole life, I assume.”

Dylan glanced at the row of cats watching from his bedroom doorway.

“We call them familiars.” Keller clicked his tongue and stood. “Now, you may continue to have an internal crisis on the drive to Charleston. You’re coming with me. You don’t have a choice.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” He reached for the chain around his neck—a nervous tic Keller had noticed before—but his fingertips found nothing.

With that, Keller leaned his head back and roared with laughter. He didn’t have much time to enjoy his dark amusement though, because even if Dylan didn’t believe in witches, he did believe in that necklace. 

When the boy charged for his bedroom, Keller sprung into action. He wrapped his arms around Dylan’s upper body and held him captive against his chest, but Dylan still struggled against him, struggled to reach the necklace Keller saw hanging on the lamp by Dylan’s bed.

Keller spoke with his lips against Dylan’s ear. “All you had to do was wear that necklace, and I couldn’t control you. What a day to forget to put it on, hmm?”

In his arms, Dylan gave up fighting but did tremble with silent tears.

“Shh,” Keller whispered. “I’ll only hurt you if you make me.”

Dylan started shouting. He called out for help, but Keller covered his mouth with his hand and subdued his screams. The dampness of Dylan’s warm breath mixed with the saltwater of his tears against Keller’s palm.

Then, something strange happened. Keller found himself thrown backwards. He landed with a thud against Dylan’s bedroom wall. Dylan was no longer in his arms. Dylan was also no longer screaming. Keller, recovered from the invisible attack, raised his head to find Dylan standing in front of him—Dylan, but not Dylan. His eyes had gone black, just like they had in the coffee shop. Tiny black veins appeared around his eyes and spread down his cheeks.

Keller stared in wonder while cats hissed from Dylan’s windowpane but came no closer. “There you are, gorgeous,” Keller said.

About the Author  

Bestselling romance author.

Bisexual witch.

Feminist. Pro-choice. Anti-censorship.

Timothee Chalamet freak.

Horror movie aficionado.

Vampire mermaid in a past life.

Sara Dobie Bauer somehow survived her party-hard college years at Ohio University to earn a creative writing degree. She lives with her precious Pit Bull in Northeast Ohio, although she’d really like to live in a Tim Burton film.

Author Links

Blog/Website  |  Facebook  |  Private Facebook Group

Twitter  |  Instagram  |  Newsletter Sign-up  

Giveaway

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

one of three ebook prizes of Handsome Death and Fate of the Moon.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

Scales & Stone (D’Vaire, Book 40) by Jessamyn Kingley

COVER REVEAL

Book Title: Scales & Stone (D’Vaire, Book 40)

Author and Publisher: Jessamyn Kingley

Cover Artist: LJ Anderson of Mayhem Cover Creations

Release Date: November 9, 2023

Genre: MM Fantasy/Paranormal Romance

Trope: Fated mates

Themes: Love, resolving the past

Heat Rating:  3 flames    

Length:  89 000 words

It is not a standalone story, but does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads Series Link 

Amazon Series Link 

Sometimes it takes finding love to appreciate the best parts of yourself. 

Blurb

Decades after leaving behind a king who attempted to sell him for wizard experimentation, Lex D’Vairedraconis lives in a place filled with loved ones. At Court D’Vaire, the dragon shifter has access to everything. He wants for nothing. But his lack of purpose frustrates him. Surrounded by successful people, Lex can’t figure out how to channel his energy. And he dearly wants to know why Fate hasn’t paired him with anyone.

Rutledge Blackstone is alone. As a gargoyle, he shouldn’t live among humans, but he fears the many enemies hunting his kind. To survive, gargoyles must separate. His parents, and even his twin brother, have left him in a house slowly crumbling around his ears. To comfort himself, he records every happy moment in a notebook, and waits for the day to add more memories to his treasure trove.

But the gargoyles aren’t being tracked by foes alone. The new gargoyle rulers and their allies want to aid people like Rutledge. To his shock, the Council of Sorcery and Shifters wants him to join, and he soon lands an invitation to the renowned sanctuary at Court D’Vaire. Before he can decide whether to accept, he meets Lex. Their attraction is instant, but Rutledge is anything but intrepid. 

To build a life together, they must learn to love unconditionally and find their true purpose in life.

Excerpt 

Everything inside Rutledge went on instant alert. To his shock and mild horror, his dick sprang to life, and he hoped no one noticed he was fully erect. The scent of dishwashing detergent, fabric softener, and household cleaner hit his nose with unrivaled intensity. The smells of a happy home, something Rutledge yearned for but feared to ask Fate for. His gargoyle roared with excitement, and the feeling of safety flowed through Rutledge as his gaze locked with a brown-eyed stranger. 

The man was probably about six-foot-three, which made him about five inches taller than Rutledge. Although he wasn’t lanky by traditional standards, his shoulders weren’t nearly as broad as a gargoyle’s. His dark hair was short and combed away from his handsome face. Rutledge’s newfound ability to categorize multiple races told him the man was a dragon shifter. 

The stranger had paired a soft beige sweater nearly the color of Rutledge’s shirt with faded jeans and boots that matched his scaly irises. His expression was as astonished as Rutledge felt. Rutledge wondered if he was unhappy with Fate’s choice for him, and he wished he could ask without embarrassing them both. Desperate to remember every detail of this life-altering moment, Rutledge didn’t think. He yanked out the notebook from his shirt pocket, along with a tiny pencil, and scribbled a detailed description of his mate onto the first blank page he flipped to.

No one in the room said a word as Rutledge muttered and glanced back at the man in between his hastily scrawled words to ensure that he described his gift from Fate properly. His gargoyle wanted to know more, but Rutledge could get to that once he’d finished recording everything to read later when he was alone again.

On his third page, Rutledge finally noted that there were wolves in the room, and he barely bit back his scream. 

“Wolves,” Rutledge yelled.

“Conley, you didn’t tell him we were bringing Nox and Mortis?” asked a man who had to be six-six and had straight locks that fell to his shoulders in a silky rain of blue and navy. 

“It’s better to explain that in person, I think,” Conley defended. “Rutledge Blackstone, allow me to present their Highnesses, High King Aleksander and High King Rafe D’Vaire. The wolves on either side of them are resurrected sentinels tied to their souls to protect them.”

“You’re supposed to introduce Squirt first,” Aleksander replied. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Blackstone.”

“I’m sure Dra’Kaedan doesn’t mind if I do things a little out of order,” Conley argued.

“No, but it’s irritating when people talk about me like I’m not in the room,” a short man with blond ringlets retorted. “Anyway, I’m Dra’Kaedan, and the guy scowling behind me is my mate, Brogan.”

“Why do you always assume I’m scowling?” Brogan asked, his navy eyes narrowed.

“Because he has yet to be wrong about it,” a man with a striking resemblance to Aleksander drawled in a beautiful, crisp English accent. The others in the room had fainter echoes of something far from the Texas drawls Rutledge was used to hearing, but this stranger’s accent was thicker. “Excuse us, we don’t know how to act appropriately. I’m Worth, and next to me is my best friend, Lex.”

Lex caught Rutledge’s full attention again, and he nearly jotted his mate’s name down, but he needed to know if the short name was as simple to spell as it was to pronounce.

“L-e-x?” Rutledge clarified.

A smile played around Lex’s mouth, and Rutledge noticed dimples so faint he nearly missed them, which he hurriedly added to his list. 

“Yes, Rutledge, that’s how I spell it,” Lex said, his accent even more toe curling than Worth’s. 

“How do you spell your name?” Lex asked.

“R-u-t-l-e-d-g-e,” he responded immediately and wondered why that was important. There was no notebook in Lex’s hands, but maybe he kept a journal at home?

“Hush, Mortis, I don’t know,” High King Rafe whispered loudly to the black wolf with hints of navy in his fur. Like Lex and Worth, his accented English told of a man who’d once lived far from Las Vegas.

Rutledge’s gaze widened as Lex winked at him. 

“It’s okay, Mortis,” Lex said. “Rutledge is my mate, and that’s why it’s important to know how to spell our names.”

“Yes,” Worth shouted as he lifted his fists in celebration. “I told you your other half was out in the world waiting for you. Now you’ve finally left the house, and right here he is.”

Lex glared at the taller dragon. “That’s not quite how I remember the conversation.”

“Yes, well, if you’d written it down like our fair Rutledge, you could prove your point, but alas, it is your word against mine,” Worth countered. “Congratulations to you both.”

“Kind of makes you want to hit him with your car again, doesn’t it?” Aleksander asked Lex.

“It’s a frequent feeling I’ve grown used to in the years that have passed since,” Lex groused with a glare for Worth as he took two steps closer to the gargoyle, who was reeling from the extraordinary meeting with the D’Vaires. “Thank you for agreeing to this visit today, Rutledge. It is an absolute pleasure to meet you.”

 Overwhelmed by Lex’s beauty, sexy accent, and lovely scent, Rutledge managed a blush and a nod.

About the Author 

Jessamyn Kingley has published over thirty titles and refuses to pick a favorite among them. With an extraordinary passion for her characters, she enthusiastically adds tales to her D’Vaire series and avidly re-reads them whenever her schedule allows. After decades living in the Washington, DC area, she now resides in Nevada with her husband and their three spoiled cats. When she is not writing or adding new ideas to her beloved notebooks, she is gaming with family and friends. 

Visit her website 

Join her Facebook group, Jessamyn's Ruffian's

 Facebook Profile  |   Twitter  |   Pinterest  

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

Sold by Ace Fawn #kindleunlimited

NEW RELEASE 

Book Title: Sold

Author and Publisher: Ace Fawn

Cover Artist: Cormar Covers

Release Date: October 25, 2023

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance

Tropes: Forced proximity, opposites attract

Themes: Captive romance, billionaire romance, sexual awakening, one-sided hate

Heat Rating: 5 flames   

Length: 63 000 words  

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

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US Author Page  |  Amazon UK Author Page 

Sold. Collared. Owned.

Blurb

Michael

Michael Kreed is a wealthy man with the world in the palm of his hand, and he’s looking for a new pet. What he craves comes in the form of Hunter, a young man with a gorgeous, lean body, an attitude, and a determination not to yield. Michael wants to keep Hunter unbroken, but is it worth pursuing a relationship with his new obsession?

Hunter

Hunter’s life changes forever when he is sold at an auction to a sophisticated, handsome billionaire named Michael. Collared and made into his pet, Hunter resists his owner and craves to have his freedom and old life back. But is the new life that Michael is offering him better than the only one he’s ever known?

Content Warnings: This book contains explicit M/M sexual content and includes kidnapping, a human auction, involuntary collaring, spanking, chipping, restraints, and the use of a Taser. Reader discretion is advised.

Excerpt

Michael moved in closer, and Hunter shut his eyes. The only two things he could focus on were Michael’s fresh cologne and the feel of the collar as Michael put it on around his neck.

Hunter opened his eyes when he sensed that Michael had moved away.

A small smile spread across Michael’s clean-shaven face as he observed Hunter with his piercing blue eyes. “That’s better. I knew a collar would look stunning on you.”

Hunter stared, horrified. Letting Michael put the collar around his neck was an act of submission. And Hunter hated it. He hated Michael for buying him and forcing him into something he didn’t want to be a part of. It was clear to Hunter by the way Michael had spoken to him that he was the type of man you didn’t say no to. The type of man that got whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

That only fueled Hunter’s anger toward him.

But he was also confused. What did a man like Michael want from him?

Questions ran rampant in Hunter’s mind. His mouth was painfully dry, and he felt a headache coming on. The silence and those eyes on him, watching him … it was all too much.

“Where are you taking me?” Hunter finally managed to ask.

“To my home. I’m sure you will come to like it.”

Why did it matter whether Hunter liked it or not? He was being taken against his will.

“I want to know where exactly. I’m still in the States, right?” Hunter asked.

Michael’s gaze wandered over Hunter’s body before settling on his face, making Hunter’s skin grow hot.

“We are still on home soil, my dear pet,” Michael said, purring the last word and making Hunter’s stomach flutter with a mix of emotions. Disgust. Fear. Anger. It all balled into one and consumed his entire being, making his body tremble.

“You have a lot to learn, but that will all have to wait until we get home,” Michael said.

Just the state he was in—sold against his will, wearing a straitjacket, and forced into a collar—made Hunter realize that he was at the mercy of a complete stranger. Michael clearly was a wealthy man, and if he had money, then he surely had power.

It all proved that Hunter had no control over what happened to him next. What would Michael do to him? What would Michael make him do? The sheer realization of his predicament sent a spike of panic through his entire being. Feeling sick to his stomach, Hunter breathed harder. He felt like he was suffocating, and no matter how much air he tried to gulp in, it still wasn’t enough.

Hunter looked away and closed his eyes. Swallowed once, twice, but saliva refused to fill his parched mouth and throat. Fuck. Was he going to throw up?

“Calm down, Hunter. Breathe,” Michael said.

All Hunter could think about was what type of freaky shit awaited him. Was Michael going to make him his personal sex slave? Was he going to force him to star in porno films?

When a hand settled on his shoulder, Hunter startled and gasped for breath. He opened his eyes and stared at the man who had stolen his life from him.

About the Author 

Ace Fawn writes sometimes dark and always steamy contemporary M/M romance featuring mafia and billionaires.

An avid reader of M/M romance, she loves books about D/s relationships, the enemies-to-lovers trope, and the forced proximity trope, and tends to involve these themes in her own writing.

Author Links

Blog/Website  |   Newsletter sign-up  |   BookBub   |  Goodreads 

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

The Score by Beth Bolden #giveaway #kindleunlimited

NEW RELEASE 

Book Title: The Score

Author and Publisher: Beth Bolden

Cover Artist: The Book Brander Boutique

Release Date: October 25, 2023

Genre: Contemporary MM sports romance

Tropes: bad boy reformed, forced proximity, fake boyfriend, roommates to friends to lovers

Themes: found family, trust issues, mental health, love versus lust

Heat Rating:  4 flames    

Length: 100 000 words

It is book number three in a spinoff series. 

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link  |  Amazon  US  |  Amazon UK

Blurb

Carter Maxwell knows he’s a screwup. Four teams in three seasons tells the story, as much as he wishes it didn’t.

But finally, he’s landed in a good place, where he likes the team and the team actually likes him. Even the Condors' current rebuilding mode suits him. There’s a new owner. New coach. New players. New rules.

But one rule hasn’t changed: don’t seduce your agent-appointed c*ckblocker.

Ian Parker agrees to live with Carter and keep him on the straight and narrow for one simple reason: Alec, the agent in charge of cleaning up Carter’s reputation, has promised him something Ian wants very, very badly.

Even more badly than Carter naked above him and below him and next to him.

A chance for Ian to become an agent.

But Ian didn’t take into account just how persuasive Carter is—or just how desperately he desires to be persuaded. Or how, while spending time with Carter, they’ll somehow stumble into a fake relationship that begins to feel all too real.

It doesn’t matter that Carter’s never fallen in love or that he’s never been in a real relationship. It doesn’t matter that Ian’s risking his future as an agent.

He’s determined to score the impossible and reform the bad boy—only after encouraging Carter to misbehave one last time. But this time, only with him.

Excerpt

“Wait a sec,” Ian said, standing too, but reaching out and casually catching Carter’s arm. “I know this is going to be awkward, me being around all the time. I just wanted to acknowledge that, first off.”

“Is it?” Carter really hadn’t thought much about it; honestly, he’d been too busy trying to figure out how to get around rule number one.

“Well, yeah, in my experience it is. Most people who run into us together are going to want an explanation. Your friends. The players here. The coaches. The staff. Anyone you meet.”

“And what? I shouldn’t tell them why you’re really around?”

“I’m…” Ian hesitated again. “I know what my previous clients and I would do. We’d discuss ahead of time what role I’d be playing. Often, since I was in LA, they were well known, so it was easy to pass me off as a personal assistant or a friend. But here—”

“Nobody’s gonna have a personal assistant around them all the time,” Carter said. “Especially not me.”

Ian looked surprised again.

“What,” Carter retorted, “I’m not an idiot, okay.”

The frost in Ian’s expression melted a little more. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that you were.”

“You wouldn’t be the first,” Carter said wryly. “Why can’t we just tell people what you really are?”

“You’d be okay with that?”

Carter realized with a jolt that the person who was really worried about this wasn’t him, the way Ian was concerned about, but Ian himself.

Wasn’t that interesting?

“It’s hardly like people don’t know my reputation,” Carter said.

“Oh. Alright. Well, that’s your choice.”

“We can just say you’re my what…companion?”

“If that’s the word you want to use,” Ian said.

But as they walked out of the conference room, Carter couldn’t shake the feeling that Ian was the one who was preoccupied with not only what to call himself, but maybe even what kind of position he’d be occupying in Carter’s life.

As they walked down the hall, and Carter pushed the down elevator button, to take it to the lower level and the team cafeteria, Ian turned to him and said, “Well, you getting shut down by half the team is pretty good news for rule number one.”

Carter rolled his eyes. “Not when I could go to the Pirate’s Booty or any other bar or restaurant or coffee shop in the city and find someone to pick up in point five seconds.”

“Modest, much?”

“Listen, you wanted honesty, that’s the honest truth right there.” Carter had sex because it was easy, yes, and it also helped stem the tide of his temper. Maybe if sex had been harder for him to come by, he’d have found something else to use.

But sex was easy, for him, so sex it was.

Or at least it had been sex.

Carter mournfully poured one out for all the great sex he wasn’t going to be having in the next few months.

About the Author 

A lifelong Pacific Northwester, Beth Bolden has just recently moved to North Carolina with her supportive husband. Beth still believes in Keeping Portland Weird, and intends to be just as weird in Raleigh.

Beth has been writing practically since she learned the alphabet. Unfortunately, her first foray into novel writing, titled Big Bear with Sparkly Earrings, wasn’t a bestseller, but hope springs eternal. She has published over forty novels and novellas.

Author Links

Blog/Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter  |   BookBub

Instagram  |  Newsletter Sign-up

Giveaway 

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

a $20 Amazon gift card.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

Recalling My Demon (Possessive Love) by Colette Davison #giveaway

NEW RELEASE

Book Title: Recalling My Demon (Possessive Love)

Author and Publisher: Colette Davison

Cover Artist: Charli Childs

Release Date: October 19, 2023

Genre: Paranormal M/M Romance

Tropes: Age gap, Daddy kink, human and demon relationship

Themes: acceptance, trust

Heat Rating:  3.5/4 out of 5

Length:  45,000 words

It’s part of a multi-author series. All the books standalone and this book doesn't not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Universal link  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK  

I'm told Nethermire House is haunted, but the truth is even stranger.

Blurb

Nethermire is home to an eccentric 80-year-old and the young man she claims is her great-nephew.

Except he's not.

He's a demon.

Brin's chaotic, bratty ways draw me to him. When he calls me Daddy, I'm a goner. I want to protect him, take care of him, and call him mine.

But when he gets summoned to hell, our happiness is shattered.

Can I recall him to my side, or will I lose him forever?

Recalling My Demon is a standalone MM paranormal romance in the Possessive Love multi-author series. It has an age-gap relationship between a bratty demon who needs someone to love him more than he realises and an ex-priest who's now a Daddy.

Excerpt 

“Nurse Ian.” He raises his thick, dark brows a fraction, his eyes sparkling as he smirks. “Mo—Martha has told me all about you.” His voice is soft, light, and playful.

“You’re her grand-nephew?”

“Brin.” He flicks his gaze over me. “You are gorgeous.”

I take a half step back. “Uh—”

“I shouldn’t have said that, should I?” He runs his thumb over his bottom lip. “I’d apologise, except it’s true. Hm, you are one gorgeous man.”

So is he. I swallow, needing to maintain my composure and remain professional. “Martha is through here.” I gesture to the lounge.

“She likes that room. Have you seen the rest of the house? I could give you a tour.”

“No, I haven’t.”

Brin flounces into the house, kicks his boots off, and wanders into the lounge. I follow in his wake. He leans down to kiss his great-aunt on the forehead, grabs a cake off the plate, and sits in a chair with one leg looped over the arm. He peels the case away from the cake and takes a big bite. Crumbs drop onto his chin, so he flicks his tongue out to lick them off.

“Ian is here to do my welfare check,” Martha explains.

“I guessed.” Brin stares at me as he devours the rest of the cake.

I can’t take my eyes off him.

“Don’t let me stop you from doing your job. I love watching a man in uniform work.” He winks.

“You’ll have to forgive him. My grand-nephew is a terrible flirt,” Martha says.

I scrabble to get the blood pressure monitor out of my bag and kneel beside Martha.

“A man in uniform on his knees. Sexy.”

“Brin,” Martha says, her tone not as sharp and short as I’d expect for a true admonishment.

“What? It’s true.”

About the Author 

Colette’s personal love story began at university, where she met her future husband. An evening of flirting, in the shadow of Lancaster castle, eventually led to a fairytale wedding. She’s enjoying her own ‘happy ever after’ in the north of England with her husband, two beautiful children and her writing.

Social Media Links

Blog/Website  |   Facebook Page   |  Facebook Group: Colette’s Cosy Corner

BookBub   |   Twitter  |   Goodreads  |  Instagram: @colettedavison

Mailing List  |   Newsletter Sign-Up

Giveaway

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

a $10 Amazon Gift Card

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

The Road to Montepulciano by Garrick Jones

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: The Road to Montepulciano

Author: Garrick Jones

Publisher: Moshpit Publications

Cover Artist: Garrick Jones

Release Date: September 19, 2023

Genre: Crime Thriller/Historical Fiction

Themes: Sowing one’s oats; Finding Mr. Right; Acceptance in community

Heat Rating: 5 flames     

Length: 140 500 words/ 393 pages (paperback version)

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

Goodreads

Buy Links

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK  |  Amazon AU  |  Smashwords

Blurb 

Two years after finishing his tour of duty in the Occupational Forces in Japan, Damson O’Reilly arrives in Siena, Italy. Sight-unseen at a local auction, he buys an abandoned Tuscan farmhouse in which he aims to write, paint, and start a new life.

The house, passed over at auction, becomes an impulse buy when it’s put up for a final time. He’s prepared for a semi-ruin, happy to turn his hand to renovating the house—however, what he’s totally unprepared for are three dead bodies, one of which he stumbles over when he arrives at La Mensola, the name of his isolated farmhouse on the road between Siena and Montepulciano.

Against the backdrop of a series of grisly murders, The Road to Montepulciano is the story of a young man, still suffering the scars of war, who, despite  betrayal of trust and surrounded by a complex web of lies, finds friendship, love and the warmth of community.

Excerpt 

I was lying in bed listening to Donati potter around in the kitchen for a few minutes, trying to make up my mind whether or not to get out of bed. I checked my watch: half past five. It was still dark outside—it wouldn’t start getting light for another three-quarters of an hour.

He had to know, I thought, reflecting on the whole of last evening. He must have guessed that I was queer, otherwise what had happened wouldn’t have taken place. We’d have washed separately, each waiting in our rooms until the other had finished, then continued to drink, play cards and behave like kids, but with our clothes on … or at least our underwear.

Some people just seemed to know it about me, although I wasn’t aware that I’d ever telegraphed where my preferences lay. A few times during the war I’d found myself on the receiving end of some very not-so-subtle advances quite out of the blue, far more forthright than the almost imperceptible, ever-so-slightly charged evening I’d enjoyed last night. And as for him? Well, I wasn’t sure just yet. There was something though that made me wonder: a frequent holding of eye contact, as if he was trying to discover what I was thinking, always breaking away abruptly with a soft smile on his face. 

I’d never been able to recognise who was one of the tribe like some of my bedfellows, although at the same time I’d never been shy to leap at an opportunity when it offered itself up. But I found it hard to initiate things. Usually I’d wait until the other person either made a move or gave me a sign that he was interested in more than passing the time of day. 

I’d heard Italian men were basically open to anything—whether that was true or not, I had no idea. Maybe Donati was just a regular man who liked a bit of variety every so often—I’d met a few of those—or maybe he was just like me: lonely and looking for a friend.

Deciding to finally get up, I’d barely thrown back the sheet and sat up, my feet drawn up and knees splayed while I leaned over, searching for my cigarettes—which for some strange reason I’d thrown into my haversack last night—when Renzo walked into the room with a demitasse in each hand. The smell of the coffee made my stomach grumble. 

He was naked too. It seemed that clothing was to be an optional extra during my stay …  I returned his smile. 

“Buongiorno, Damson,” he said, handing one of the cups to me, then sat in the middle of the bed, one of his legs at an angle, the knee resting on my foot.

“Buongiorno, Renzo. You. Sleep. Good?”

“Hai dormito bene?” he corrected my Italian, saying the words slowly, twirling his finger in the air to encourage me to repeat the correct version. 

“In English?” Renzo asked after I’d got it right.

“Did you sleep well?”

When he repeated the words, he made a pretty good fist of it, so I held out my hand. The shake happened directly over my crotch, mainly because having finished his coffee he’d stretched out over the bed. It was obvious that my genitals were right in front of his face, but his eyes hadn’t flicked away from my own, despite his Cheshire cat grin. This time I was the first to break eye contact, playfully nudging his shoulder with my foot, then reaching for my cigarettes once more.

We chatted for a while, trying out words with each other while smoking, Renzo idly playing with the hair trail below his navel while we traded vocabulary for items in the room. Then, after we’d given each other a lesson on conjugating the present tense of the verb “to be” in our own languages, I checked my watch. “Is that the time?” I said in English. I jumped out of bed, pulling on my only pair of slacks and grabbing a white American T-shirt from my haversack. It was wrinkled, but there was nothing I could do about it.

“No …?” he asked, making a plucking gesture at his waist with his thumb.

Damn, I’d been so distracted that I’d forgotten. Pulling off my trousers, I rummaged in my backpack again and found a pair of Y-fronts—they were a French brand and fairly new on the market. I usually washed my smalls every night, but there’d been too much going on and it had slipped my mind

Renzo whistled as I pulled them on, watching as I put my hand down inside the front of the waistband and adjusted myself in the pouch before pulling on my trousers once more.

“You. Like?” I asked.

He nodded, so I found another pair, still in its packet, and threw them to him. “Go ahead,” I said, while pulling on my socks, then lacing my canvas shoes.

He undid the packet, swung his legs off the bed, put both feet in the underpants, then, as he stood up, pulled them up, turning to look at his arse in the mirror of the wardrobe. “Che bel culo,” he said, winking over his shoulder at me.

I laughed. That phrase I did understand, and he did have a very nice arse.

About the Author 

From the outback to the opera.

After a thirty-year career as a professional opera singer, performing as a soloist in opera houses and in concert halls all over the world, I took up a position as lecturer in music in Australia in 1999, at the Central Queensland Conservatorium of Music, which is now part of CQ University.

Brought up in Australia, between the bush and the beaches of the Eastern suburbs, I retired in 2015 and now live in the tropics, writing, gardening, and finally finding time to enjoy life and to re-establish a connection with who I am after a very busy career on the stage and as an academic.

Author Links

Blog/Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter  |  Instagram

Pinterest  |  Newsletter Sign-up

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

Breakfast at Timothy’s by Richard Tyler Jordan #giveaway

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: Breakfast at Timothy’s

Author and Publisher: Richard Tyler Jordan

Cover Artist: Darlene Dixon

Release Date: September 9, 2023

Genres: Mystery, Rom-com, Contemporary M/M Romance, Comedy

Tropes:  Wide-eyed innocent, Fanboy, Fish out of water, Amateur sleuth

Themes:  Innocence vs. experience, allure of fame, trust & betrayal, ambition and aspiration, complexity of human nature.

Heat Rating:  2 flames

Length:  85 000 words/ 311 pages

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

Goodreads

Buy Links

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

In a city of stars, who cast the shadow of death?

Blurb

Fresh-out-of-college aspiring novelist Timothy Trousdale can hardly believe his good luck when he lands a job in New York City as a live-in assistant to his all-time favorite showbiz diva, Mercedes Ford. He’s seen all her movies. Spent oodles on tickets to her Broadway shows. And now, he gets to live and work in her swanky Tribeca penthouse. Surely, he’ll be leading the glamorous life rubbing elbows with A-Listers, who may even be able to help him fulfill his lifelong dream of becoming a famous writer. But rats … after just a few days on the job, Mercedes’ odious manager, Jared Evans, is found dead. Murdered, actually. And Timothy is a suspect!

Timothy had better find the real killer, and fast; otherwise, it’s bye-bye to ever seeing his name on the New York TimesBestsellers List and hello to a stretch of 25-to-life in the slammer. And that great guy he’s just started dating? Who’d ever want to get involved with someone whose address is The New York Penitentiary for Blood-thirsty Killers and Maniacs for crying out loud? Desperate to keep his life from completely shattering into a gazillion shards, Timothy sets out to worm the truth from an oddball cast of characters—including a sourpuss housekeeper, a vindictive former employee, a wacko Brit with delusions of grandeur, and even Mercedes’ unfaithful toy boy husband. Each of them may hold the keys to unlocking the mystery. Timothy is caught in a seemingly inescapable trap and must fight to save himself—and his favorite movie star, too.

Excerpt 

First days on new jobs are generally fraught with anxiety and diarrhea. It was no different for aspiring novelist Timothy Trousdale, who had just landed a job as an assistant to his all-time favorite movie star, Mercedes Ford. He was excited and nervous and panicked and jittery because not only was he going to his new office but his new home as well. Curiously, the position required that he live in Mercedes’ super-swanky Tribeca penthouse, The Colton. That was totally cool with Timothy, who was thrilled that he could finally escape the hell of sharing an eight-hundred- square-foot studio apartment with two present—and future—losers.

However, August mornings in Manhattan have no respect for auspicious beginnings, and this one was punishingly hot and humid. Timothy had taken an MTA bus from 45th Street, and by the time he arrived for work— wearing his only pair of dressy jeans, a classic Oxford powder-blue button- down shirt, and used-to-be-white tennis shoes—he was more wilted and stinky than poised.

Dressed in a pseudo-military livery, the grouchy doorman casually surveyed the splotches of perspiration leeching through Timothy’s shirt. After a phone call to somewhere within, he unlocked the building’s front entrance and allowed Timothy inside.

Ahh! Heaven! Timothy had walked out of the sweltering steam of the city jungle and into an oasis of refrigeration that was the building’s two-story, glass-atrium lobby. He instantly and affectionately dubbed the space Arendelle in honor of his favorite animated movie, Frozen. “Let it go, let it

go,” he whispered, lyrics from the film’s hit song, trying to stave off a full- on panic attack. Other than that, and the squeaking sounds made by the gooey melting rubber soles of his shoes meeting the cold, polished marble floor, the place was as quiet as a mausoleum.

Timothy had been instructed to meet with the concierge, Mr. Fulton, who would provide him with the key to the penthouse. Key? He quickly found that with all the super-rich and famous people living here, access to their condo units was only possible if you had a bunch of technological ways to be individually and specifically identified and authorized.

After Timothy provided his Alabama driver’s license, a debit card desperate for an infusion of paycheck funds, and a Piggly Wiggly supermarket rewards card that he’d retrieved from the bottom of his rucksack as proof that he was indeed Timothy Truman Trousdale, Mr. Fulton tapped some numbers into his cell phone. Timothy heard him whisper the cryptic words “Du jour” and “two weeks, tops.” In a short moment, a burly man with a high forehead and no discernable neck, wearing a blue police-like uniform, appeared through a doorway marked Authorized Personnel Only.

Without so much as a goodbye from Mr. Fulton, Timothy was turned over to this imposing, no-nonsense guard whose badge read Griffin. Timothy couldn’t tell if it was a first or last name, but he was nonetheless intimidated by the guy. Griffin ushered Timothy into a suite of rooms that looked the way he imagined the Pentagon’s War Room must look. There were half a dozen computers and television monitors and an equal number of uniformed people watching screens and typing notes, presumably reporting the contents of their video displays: mainly empty corridors, the front entrance, and side exits of the building.

“Palm there,” Griffin said, pointing first to Timothy’s hand, then to a device that looked like an ATM. But where a keypad on an ATM might be, there was a flat, white surface with a red-lighted outline of a hand. He touched the pattern, then splayed his fingers between the lines. A moment later, the outline turned green.

Griffin then cocked his head to another device that resembled what Timothy’s eye doctor used during exams. “Retinal scan,” he said (although Timothy initially thought he said something a bit more personal and anatomical) and indicated for Timothy to place his chin on a rubber pad just below two lenses. He peered in, and a mesmerizing kaleidoscopic lightshow of colors swarmed before him. It was so hypnotic that he would have loved to watch it for hours. But, after a muffled ping sound, the machine automatically went dark.

“Voice encoding,” Griffin said, holding a digital audio recorder. “Speak clearly into the mic. State your full name, address, and the home telephone number you had as a kid.”

“What’s next? A microchip in my neck?” Timothy said. “Arff-arff!” The joke bombed. “How now, brown cow?” he added, enunciating each word distinctly. That, too, failed to elicit anything more than a look of irritation on Griffin’s face, so Timothy got totally serious and followed the instructions. Shortly afterward, with all the warmth of the monotone voice in a GPS app, Griffin said, “Your personal body characteristics have been extracted. You can go.”

About the Author 

RICHARD TYLER JORDAN is a novelist and nonfiction writer. His books include Breakfast at Timothy’s and the Polly Pepper Mysteries series: Final Curtain, A Talent for Murder, Set Sail for Murder, and Naughty or Nice. Writing as Mike Melbourne, Kensington Publishing Corp. published Tricks of the Trade, Hunk House, Gay Blades (each of which was #1 on the InsightOut Book Club Bestsellers Lists), and One Night Stand. He has also contributed novellas to the Kensington anthologies Summer Share, and All I Want for Christmas (both of which earned Lambda Literary Award nominations), and Man of My Dreams. Jordan is also the author of But Darling, I’m Your Auntie Mame, a history of the fictional icon created by Patrick Dennis. As a senior publicist and staff writer with The Walt Disney Studios for thirty years, Jordan worked on the marketing campaigns of over 500 live-action and animated feature films. An expat from America, Richard now lives in England in a 16th-century cottage (with his husband and a definitely not scary ghost). 

Author Links

Giveaway

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

a $10 Amazon Gift Card. 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

99c Sale - Pretty Policeman by Fifer Rose #giveaway

99c BOOK BLAST

Book Title:  Pretty Policeman

Author and Publisher: Fifer Rose

Cover Artist:  Pretty Indie: Book Cover Designs

Release Date: December 1, 2022

Genres: M/M Mafia/Billionaire Romance

Tropes: Mistaken identity, forbidden love, sugar daddy kink

Themes: dark themes, but taken fairly lightly and sprinkled with rom-com elements, professional/personal integrity vs. love

Heat Rating:  4 flames

Length: 128 000 words

It is the first in a series, but it can be read as a standalone. 

It does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

$0.99 sale runs from October 6 - 12

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

Getting involved with a mafia don was a horrible idea.  Falling in love with one was worse.

Blurb 

Detective Micah Hart wasn’t sure when his fairly safe, predictable life became something more closely resembling a dumpster fire.

But if he had to pinpoint an exact moment, he would say it was the first time he went undercover as a prostitute in an attempt to bait the notorious serial killer that was stalking New York City’s streets – the media-dubbed Hooker Hunter.

It’s when Damon Romano plows into his life, with his fierce protective energy, and those thick thighs, and the bluest pair of eyes Micah has ever seen. 

If only he wasn’t also a temperamental mafioso in charge of running one of the city’s largest criminal empires.

Damon fixates on Micah, obsessing over feeding him and making sure he always has a coat.  He spoils him rotten with gifts and insists on taking Micah on as his personal escort – a “boyfriend” to get his nagging sisters off his back. 

It’s weirdly sweet, and Micah doesn’t know how he’s become a soft spot in the ruthless man’s otherwise hardened exterior, but it would be a lie to say he didn’t want even more: a real relationship with Damon.   

There was just one teensy, tiny problem with that.

Despite what Damon thinks, Micah isn’t actually a prostitute.  He’s a cop for the NYPD. 

Pretty Policeman is an M/M billionaire mafia romance, sprinkled liberally with rom-com elements, served with a side helping of sugar daddy kink and mistaken identity trope.  

Excerpt 

 “I should- I should arrest you,” Micah said, making sure to empathize his point by jabbing a finger into Damon’s sternum. 

It didn’t come out sounding nearly as intimidating as Micah meant it to. (Drunkenly tripping over your words would do that.) It was annoying, even as his lone sober brain cell was yelling at him to shut the fuck up. Damon didn’t know he was a cop. 

Damon’s scowl deepened, but he didn’t move to remove Micah’s finger. “For taking that asswipe’s drink?” he demanded. 

“No,” Micah denied immediately. “For s-stalking, and being unconstitutionally sexy. It’s- it’s a violation to my eyes.”

Damon blinked. “I’m a violation to your eyes?” he repeated incredulously.

“Yes,” Micah agreed, drunk enough not to be completely humiliated by the words coming out of his mouth – thank God. “And your eyes. They’re unnaturally blue – they’re fucking arresting is what they are. I’m arresting you for- for being arresting.”

Micah was sure he could have come up with more ridiculous reasons to bring the man in if he wasn’t so distracted by the feel of Damon’s hard body under his hands. At some point, the rest of his fingers had joined the one he’d poked into Damon’s chest, and they were currently tracing the ridged lines of muscle he could feel through the man’s dress shirt. For once, he wasn’t wearing a fancy suit jacket. 

If Micah wouldn’t have been so distracted, he might have noticed the way Damon’s features softened at his bizarre declaration, the man’s angry scowl drifting away. 

As it was, Micah was more focused on exploring Damon’s body. He trailed his fingers down his chest and stomach, hands inching to dive into the man’s pants, but, of course, Damon was wearing a belt. 

Not that that stopped Micah. While one hand fiddled with the buckle, the other attempted to wedge fingers into the waist band of the man’s pants. 

Micah had the vague, faraway thought that he was going to be the one who ended up being arrested – for public indecency. (He was attempting to grope another man in public, after all.) 

Luckily – or perhaps, unluckily – Damon was still in control of his mental faculties, and he managed to take hold of Micah’s wrists and tug them away from his crotch before he could feel anything more than a hint of scratchy pubic hair. “You’re smashed, aren’t you?” he demanded. 

Micah blinked. “What- what gave you that idea?” 

About the Author 

Fifer Rose is a happily married mother of four human children and two very spoiled cats.

When she is not wiping snotty noses or being bullied into feeding her cats (again?!), she can be found obsessing over M/M romance.  She loves all the tropes, some of her favorite being enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, sugar daddy, and mistaken identity.  She also has a penchant for A/B/O dynamics.

While Fifer is a sucker for angst, a happily-ever-after is a MUST in all she reads and writes.   

Unrelated hobbies include baking, attempting to golf (for her husband’s sake), and daydreaming about traveling.  (No actual traveling because did you see the part about four kids?)

Author Links

Facebook Group  |  Facebook Profile  |  Newsletter Sign-up

BOOK 2 - COMING SOON

Giveaway 

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

a $25 Amazon gift card

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions