Release Blitz: EXHALE (London Love #1.5) by Sophia Soames


The latest from the popular series, EXHALE (London Love #1.5) is out! Check out the promotion from author Sophia Soames and Gay Book Promotions!
 

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: EXHALE (London Love 1.5)

Author: Sophia Soames

Publisher: Self Published

Cover Artist: Christina Stern

Release Date: October 25, 2021

Genre:  Contemporary M/M Romance

Tropes:  Instalove, First Date 

Themes:  Fairytale sweetness

Heat Rating:  4 flames

Length: 29 000 words

It is a standalone story, but best enjoyed if you have read Breathe first.

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Buy Links for EXHALE - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

A sweet tale of figuring out that the future isn’t always straight.

Blurb

What do you do when your relationship falls apart? Well, you bury yourself in a deep hole of grief, one you have so carelessly dug for yourself. Jamie Walters needs to find a way out of the mess his life has become, but the way forward is not as straight as he thought it would have been. What's the point anyway? Women are off the menu but Jamie still wants the entire textbook fairy-tale. The romantic dates and the flowers and holding hands in the dark, and Grindr certainly isn't the place to find your happily ever after..

Catch up with Jamie and the rest of the Walters family in this sweet little insta-love fairy-tale where Jamie finally gets his happily ever after, Originally published as part of the Love is All Anthology, Exhale has been reedited and extended to the quirky little fairy-tale it was always meant to be.

Exhale is a standalone novella but is best enjoyed after reading Breathe.

Trigger warningsBrief mention of pregnancy loss.

BREATHE - 99c Promo Offer

Also Available in Kindle Unlimited 

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

Pre-Order Links for TASTE 

Releasing on November 1, 2021

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

Excerpt from EXHALE

“No, no, I’m not a virgin.” I dug my hands into my pockets. “I mean, I’ve hooked up with people before. I’ve had sex. It’s just, it never leads anywhere…”

And I was off again, jabbering so fast the cigarette flew from my lips and almost rolled off the platform. I didn’t know where to look as my mouth kept blurting more nonsense. I couldn’t look at him. Fuck. Talk about embarrassing. How did people do this? How did they get over themselves? I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.

“…either they never call again, or they leave before we even get our clothes off. I’m just…hopeless at everything, apparently.” I rounded up my little Ted Talk, picked up the cigarette, then stood there not knowing what to do with it. I didn’t want to put the damn thing back in my mouth. There was no bin. Fuck my life.

Why the hell had I told him all that? Really, Leo?

Leo, Leo mon enfant terrible. I could hear my mother’s voice in my head, scolding me for my stupidity, although she’d probably have been laughing too much to tell me off. She’d moved back to France a few years ago, taken a lover, and then another. She was the queen of hook-ups. I had no idea where she met these men, but they were a new constant in her life—something she didn’t have when I was growing up. It had been just her and me back then, and we’d lived well. Stable. I’d had a good childhood, I honestly couldn’t complain. But there had been no one in my mother’s life and she’d obviously been lonely. Now she wasn’t. She was happily shagging around like a teenager, and secretly, I loved that she did. I loved that she was having fun. At least one of us was.

“Why am I intimidating?” he asked, shuffling his feet. “I don’t mean to be. We don’t have to do anything. We can just go for a coffee if you want?”

“I don’t like coffee,” I muttered like a petulant child. “Look, I’m French, and obviously wired wrong because I’m both lactose and gluten intolerant and I don’t like coffee. So, all that bread and cheese shit is out—”

“You don’t sound French.”

“Grew up here, didn’t I?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. That’s why I have a crap name. Leo Jacques Leblond.”

“I think your name’s great.”

“Try spelling it every time you give it to someone on the phone. It’s annoying.”

“Hmm.” He was staring at me again, like he had the world at his booted feet. Doc Martens, for fuck’s sake. All polished up and fully visible below his too-short, chequered trousers. He had some ripped, multicoloured rock band T-shirt showing underneath a knitted cardigan, the look completed by a super-cool, vintage long coat. Like some emo. Or not. He wasn’t wearing black but a mixture of beiges and reds. And a bright-blue rucksack. Nothing matched, yet… Yeah. Vogue called. They want their cover model back. The pretty one with the weird clothes.

He was talking again, and I’d totally zoned out.

“…and I said to myself, life is too short. So, I want to do this if you’re still up for it. But maybe do it right, kind of just hang out and get to know each other.”

“I want to have sex,” I stated. Why couldn’t I ever control my mouth?

“I’m totally up for that.” He grinned from under his curls. “That’s the whole point of this, isn’t it? But we’ve been standing here talking for a bit, and it’s nice, and you’re nice, and I’m sure Costa Coffee over there do gluten-free biscuits, and I’ll buy you a bottle of water or whatever your poison is. I just need to sit down and get my head in gear because this is kind of freaky. I’ve never done anything like this before. To be honest, I’m a little weirded out, and now here I am—”

“On some dodgy council estate, meeting up with a dude who’s probably a drug dealer and will have you beaten up in a minute.”

“I hope not!” He laughed, and the world became a little brighter. “Are you a drug dealer?”

“No,” I giggled back. “I promise you. I’m a dull uni student, and I live in a tiny student flat. I haven’t got much to show for myself, but perhaps one day, I’ll have a nice job and a better place to live. That’s my plan. I want to teach French. Or perhaps move to Paris for a while, find my roots.”

“Don’t move to Paris. I’ll never see you again.”

I couldn’t tell if he was serious, so I joked, “You might not want to once you’ve seen me naked.”

He blushed, and it was the cutest thing ever.

“You’re desperate for this coffee thing, huh?”

“Just to clear my head,” he said again. He sounded a little defeated, but I was grateful for a plan that didn’t involve taking him home. I wasn’t sure I could deal with that right now, however much I liked the idea of seeing him naked.

“Come on. Let’s go get you a large coffee—”

“I prefer espresso.”

“You sound like one of those posh kids,” I teased. I couldn’t help myself.

“Maybe once upon a time, I was posh. Not anymore. I still live at home with my siblings in a rundown council terrace in Thorpeton Green, and not the posh part. Like, backstreet-dump Thorpeton, near the industrial estate under the M4.”

“Working-class posh,” I blabbed on. “You look posh, you talk posh, and you look like you just stepped out of a fashion shoot.”

I regretted it even before I finished speaking because now he really looked freaked out, my beautiful, gorgeous man. I wondered how people survived having a partner who looked like him. I mean, he would be with someone amazing one day. Probably some big, rich, muscle bear of a man who would love him and spoil him, while I would be stuck alone in my dingy flat, dreaming of him. I was already jealous of the imaginary rich boyfriend, the one he would love forever.

“You’re deranged,” he said, smirking at me. I sighed, fiddling with my fingers. I’d heard that one before. Then he reached out and grabbed my sleeve. Tugged at me. Smiled as he led me down the steps towards the road. I followed him, thinking at that moment, I would have followed him anywhere. Blindly, desperately and, I think, a little bit in love.

About the Author 

Sophia Soames should be old enough to know better but has barely grown up. She has been known to fangirl over TV shows, has fallen in and out of love with more popstars than she dares to remember, and has a ridiculously high-flying (un-)glamourous real-life job.

Her long-suffering husband just laughs at her antics. Their children are feral. The Au Pair just sighs.

She lives in a creaky old house in rural London, although her heart is still in Scandinavia.

Discovering that the stories in her head make sense when written down has been part of the most hilarious midlife crisis ever, and she hopes it may long continue.

Find me on social media @sophiasoames on all platforms

Christina Stern is a Russian based artist. Quick sketches and portraits drawn in pencil are what she likes to do the most. Her work can be found on @christinastern on Instagram

Aurelia Morris is a cover artist, photographer, Photoshop wiz and eternal fangirl. She works in many mediums under more aliases that she can keep track of.

Social Media Links

Facebook Group: Sophia Soames’ Little Harbour  |  Twitter  |  Instagram 

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Pest Control by C.D. Habecker and Luna Nyx

Join authors C.D. Habecker and Luna Nyx and IndiGo Marketing as they celebrate the release of Pest Control! read more about the shifter rivals to lovers romance and enter in the NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: Pest Control

Author: CD Habecker and Luna Nyx

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 10/19/2021

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 52200

Genre: Paranormal, LGBTQIA+, gay, PNR/wolf shifter, hunters, disabilities, humorous, illness/disease, interspecies, mental illness, rivals to lovers, fisting, knotting, #ownvoices

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Description

Rhys has a simple life in the backwoods. All he needs is his trusty compound bow, impressive book collection, warm cabin, full food cellar, and himself. So, when Rhys discovers a sly wolf stealing his kills, which are supposed to last him through the coming winter, he’s forced to set a trap and kill the pest.

But, instead of the wolf, Rhys finds a mysterious (and naked) man named Everett.

After learning Everett has nowhere else to go, Rhys hesitantly invites him to stay and heal. But he doesn’t get much time to adjust to life with his eccentric (and stupidly handsome) house guest, not when winter arrives early and with a vengeance.

Cooped up in the cabin together for months, will Rhys learn to love himself and another? Or will hidden truths and empty stomachs snuff out the flames of love and life?

Excerpt

Pest Control
C.D. Habecker and Luna Nyx © 2021
All Rights Reserved

Rhys pulled the string of his compound bow back taut, his hands steady as he readied his arrow. Tucked as he was behind the thick foliage, the buck’s tawny coat was well camouflaged in the autumn hues, making aiming for his target difficult. Though, it also benefited Rhys; combined with being downwind of the magnificent creature, the foliage kept him just as hidden.

The buck, completely unaware of his presence, stepped out enough to bend its graceful neck to drink from the trickling stream. Still on guard, cautious as animals of prey always were, its ears flickered at the tiniest of noises, its muscles tensed and ready for flight at any moment.

Rhys had only one chance at getting this right.

One wrong move, and the buck—a good month’s worth of venison dinners—would disappear into the forest, never to be seen again.

This wasn’t Rhys’s first rodeo, not in the slightest, yet he couldn’t help the nervous hitch in his quiet, slow breathing when it seemed, for a moment, that the buck had seen him. Its head jerked up and turned, dark eyes looking straight in his direction. It didn’t flee, only stared ominously as if caught in a truck’s headlights. Rhys knew he wouldn’t get a better chance than this one.

It was always a strange feeling to look into the eyes of his prey, of something he was going to kill. Ignoring the shudder that rolled down his spine, he took the shot anyway. Releasing his grip on the string, he allowed his arrow to take flight in a silent, quick whirr through the air.

Before the buck could even blink in reaction, the sharp metal arrowhead lodged deep where the shoulder of its front leg met its torso, cutting through thick layers of fur, skin, fat, and muscle—and hopefully its heart or lung, maybe even shattering its shoulder. Rhys had counted on his aim making the cleanest, quickest kill, one that would keep the animal’s suffering at a minimum.

The buck immediately took off running down the stream with a loud startled noise, and so did Rhys, chasing after his wounded prey. Still much faster than he was, even with its injury, the buck disappeared into the trees. Leaving a trail of blood and crushed foliage in its hasty retreat, it led the hunter on through the forest for what seemed like at least a good few miles.

But, when Rhys finally made it to the end of the blood trail, there was no buck in sight, only pools of blood mixed in with the muddy ground, and hoofprints leading off deeper into the forest, away from the stream. Rhys furrowed his eyebrows as he knelt beside them and traced their outline with his fingers.

Not hoofprints, he realized with an angry huff—wolf prints, and familiar ones at that, the large canine’s paws unmistakable to his trained eyes. Streaks of blood followed alongside them, which left Rhys with only one answer.

“It’s you again, huh?” he grumbled through gritted teeth, digging his fingers into the wet mud, replacing the print with his own.

This wasn’t the first time the wolf had stolen his kill. In fact, it was the fifth time this season. Rhys thought that by traveling far in the opposite direction he normally took toward his trusty hunting perch, he’d be able to avoid the bane of his existence, but yet again, he had been outsmarted.

It was as if the thieving canine had been following him, stalking him even, to drag away his kills, mooching off of his hard work and dedication. The reoccurring situation pissed him off to no end, especially when winter was only a mere month or two away from turning the landscape white and cold.

He needed this kill, needed the other four lost kills as well, to keep himself from starving in the dead of winter when it would be next to impossible to do any sort of hunting. This late in the game, his food storage cellar should be full already; he shouldn’t have spent all of his time hunting when firewood and water needed to be collected and stored, and his fall vegetable harvest needed to be pickled.

With how things were looking now, it was loud and clear: Rhys was utterly and completely fucked.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

C.D. Habecker is a bisexual woman residing in Portland, where she is pursuing a BFA in fiction writing at Portland State University. Ever since she was a child, C.D. has been an avid writer and reader. Writing fanfiction helped her realize her passion for creating queer romances and spinning familiar tropes. Her favorite trope is any type of animal shifter or hybrid, with magic coming in a close second. C.D. strives to give good representation to the queer as well as disabled communities, often featuring characters who share her mental and physical illnesses. She believes that not every queer story needs to focus on the struggles and hardships of being queer, as there is more to a queer person’s life than that. Everyone deserves a sweet yet deeply nuanced romance they can relate to, as well as swoon, cry, and laugh with.

C.D. spends her days writing, reading, playing with her dogs, listening to BTS, and thrifting for her vintage clothing business. Visit C.D. on Twitter.


Luna Nyx is an asexual lesbian young adult living in the Denver area of Colorado. She’s currently studying to become a Vet Tech, and writes on the side as means to pursue her creative passion. She fell out of love with writing and reading as an adolescent because growing up with ADHD made school a big challenge for her, and she’d begun to associate her passions with failure and disappointment. However, after meeting C.D. Habecker, Luna rediscovered her passion for literature. Inspired by her struggles growing up and the lack of decent LGBTQIA+ representation in media, Luna writes stories to show people with neurodivergence and “queer” identities that they aren’t alone.

Luna currently lives at home with her parents and spends her days studying in college, lovingly annoying her three pet cats, and burying herself in her musical and artistic passions. Visit Luna on Twitter.

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Blog Tour + Giveaway: To Bring Him Home and Other Tales by Warren Rochelle


Author Warren Rochelle and Other Worlds Ink host today's blog tour stop for new queer SFF anthology, To Bring Him Home and Other Tales! Learn more about the collection and enter in the Amazon gift card giveaway!
 

To Bring Him Home and Other Tales - Warren Rochelle

Warren Rochelle has a new queer SFF anthology out: To Bring Him Home and Other Tales. And there's a giveaway!

We all need a place to call home, a place where we belong, and are safe, and loved. For the lovers in these stories, finding home is easier said than done. Quests must be taken; dragons must be slain. Rocket launchers need to be dodged. Sometimes one might have to outrun the Wild Hunt, and sometimes they have to reimagine and recreate home. But these lovers do find homes, homes in each other’s hearts.

Publisher | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo


Giveaway

Warren is giving away an Amazon gift card with this tour:

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Excerpt

To Bring Him Home Meme

He found his mother in her bathroom, lying on the bathmat by the tub, like a discarded hotel towel, white and crumpled. Fletcher knelt down and touched her bruised face, tenderly traced the hand prints on her skin. Cold. He then pressed his fingers against the veins in her neck. No pulse. Wishing he could cry for her, he put the same fingers under her nose. No breath, Dead. Emptied. He picked up her arm and it flopped as if boneless, She was wearing her bathrobe. He pulled it close, to hide her body.

Fletcher knew where to look, upstairs, behind the locked attic door. Through the door he could hear what he had come to call Paul’s favorite music, soft, far away, with harps and wind chimes, and what sounded like the wind, and the rain, storms. and voices singing in a strange language he had never been able to identify. The music sort of reminded him of the wind chimes on Sam’s porch. Of course.

He tried the knob. This time the door was unlocked.

“Fletcher. You’re awake. I knew you’d come up here,” his stepfather said in his cold and dark voice. He sat at a desk facing a door frame standing in the middle of the attic. Inside the door frame: darkness. Around it, Fletcher could see the rest of the attic: the shelves, the file cabinets, the odd boxes. The skylight was open, mid-day sun streamed in. Even so, the room was cold, a cold that was coming through the door, as if blown by some faraway wind. Paul’s black staff leaned against the door frame. He closed a little carved box on his desk and the music stopped.

“What did you do with Sam? Where is he? Where are his parents?” Fletcher asked, shivering and hugging himself against the cold.

“Where they belong,” Paul said, leaning back in his chair. “The dreams have escaped for millennia—even before Her Majesty came to power—into human minds. Fairy tales, myths, story upon story. A few times, the different peoples and creatures slipped through—what was it your hero said?—‘there were many chinks or chasms between worlds in old times’?—yes, I’ve read all those stories, too; they were useful to me. That was before Her Majesty. So, there are people like you and your mother, fey-touched, gifted with Sight that lets you see through glamour. Very useful to people like me.”

Fletcher swallowed the scream in his throat, knowing he had to listen, to understand, not to let this man get to him, break him into tears. “Where is Sam? What kind of a person are you?”

“I told you: There. You can call it Narnia if you like, or what did Tolkien call it? Never mind. The Celts came up with many other names, such as Tir n’Og, the Blessed Isles. Words and sounds can be dreamt, too; echoes can linger. She can’t stop the dreams of what once was, of once upon a time—slow them down, but not stop them. But Her Majesty can and must stop those who escape her winter,” Paul said, as he sorted what looked like rolls of parchment, stuffing some back into tubes, into different parts of his desk. “I am a bounty hunter, a tracker, and you, my dear Fletcher, and your mother, are my canaries.”

My dreams. I dreamed of the neighbor, I dreamed of Sam. Now I know where his music comes from.

“They hadn’t planned on Sam falling in love and having sex quite just yet, which shattered the weak child’s glamour—and I smelled him on you, his magic,” Paul said, his words dripping disdain and scorn.

“Mama’s dead.”

Paul shrugged and Fletcher hated him for it. “I needed her energy to open the gate—I was running a little low. A few days from now, no problem. You want him back?”

Fletcher slowly and carefully nodded his head.

“You think you’re in love. Fletcher! What do you know about love—who have you ever loved or who’s loved you? And when he asked for you, at the moment of peril, you pulled back. Don’t be a fool: you’re not in love.”

“My father loved me; I loved him. My mother—before you used her for food. Sam loves me.”

“Then go get him. Into Faerie. No happy elves, no dancing fauns, no chatty mice, no heroes with magic swords. No performing Lion, just Her Majesty’s winter. No English

children. Your boyfriend’s there, Fletcher. Or you could stay here and help me—starting with finding that sanctuary. Do you know how old I am? Her Majesty rewards her faithful: I am two hundred and thirteen of your years old. I have anything I want.”

I want Sam. “Live that long, be like you? No. I love Sam.”

“You’ve known him a week and you’re in love. That really is a fairy tale. You just think you do,” Paul said, dismissing Fletcher’s feelings with a flip of his hand. “You can have any boy you want, any way you want—like I said, Her Majesty rewards her faithful. Besides, you’re a coward,” Paul added, laughing.

Fletcher knew that Paul would never understand, could never understand, that even the uncertainty was enough, that the brightness in his heart, the geodes in his pocket, were enough, even if the week had been just the promise of what would come. Could have come. Might come. Maybe he was a coward. He certainly was afraid, and very good at being afraid. But life had found him, and being afraid didn’t mean he couldn’t go through that dark gate.

“Find yourself another canary,” Fletcher said and before Paul could stop him, ran across the room, through the door frame, into the dark, into the fairy tale.


Author Bio

Warren Rochelle

Warren Rochelle lives in Charlottesville, Virginia, and has just retired from teaching English at the University of Mary Washington. His short fiction and poetry have been published in such journals and anthologies as Icarus, North Carolina Literary Review, Forbidden Lines, Aboriginal Science Fiction, Collective Fallout, Queer Fish 2, Empty Oaks, Quantum Fairy Tales, Migration, The Silver Gryphon, Jaelle Her Book, Colonnades, and Graffiti, as well as the Asheville Poetry Review, GW Magazine, Crucible, The Charlotte Poetry Review, Romance and Beyond, Migration, and Innovation.

Rochelle is the author of four novels: The Wild Boy (2001), Harvest of Changelings (2007), and The Called (2010), all published by Golden Gryphon Press, and The Werewolf and His Boy, published by Samhain Publishing in September 2016. The Werewolf and His Boy was re-released from JMS Books in August 2020. His first short story collection, The Wicked Stepbrother and Other Stories, was published by JMS Books in September 2020.

Both The Werewolf and His Boy and The Wicked Stepbrother and Other Stories, received strong reviews from blog tours in November 2020.

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/warren.rochelle

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/warrenwriter

Author Twitter: https://twitter.com/WarrenRochelle

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/38355.Warren_Rochelle

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Audiobook Release Blitz + Giveaway: The Jock Script (Script Club #3) by Lane Hayes


Author Lane Hayes and IndiGo Marketing host audiobook release blitz for Alexander Cendese narrated nerd romance, The Jock Script (Script Club #3)! Don't miss it or the giveaway!
 

Title: The Jock Script

Series: The Script Club #3

Author: Lane Hayes

Publisher: Lane Hayes

Release Date: Sept. 24, 2021

Heat Level: 4 - Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 250

Genre: Romance, Bisexual, Jock and Nerd, Romantic Comedy, Coming Out, Humor

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Synopsis

The nerd, the coach, and the hookup…

Asher-

Swipe left, swipe left, swipe left. Sure, the idea of a quick, no-strings intimate rendezvous via hookup app sounds oddly thrilling, but it’s simply not me. Or maybe it is me, because it happened…and I liked it. Until I realized he looked familiar for a reason. A bad reason. Now I’ve made a faux pas with the sexiest man on planet Earth, and my internal karma system requires me to fix it. Help!

Blake-

I may seem like I have it together, but the truth is, I’m a hot mess. I’m so deep in the closet that I can’t remember my real name some days. That’s okay. The benefit of one-night stands is anonymity. Until Asher. Not a total surprise. I’ve always had a thing for geeks, but I’ve never met anyone like him. He’s a pint-sized dynamo on a quest for perfection who can help me come out…if I follow his script.

Hmm. I’m in.

The Jock Script is an MM bisexual, geek/jock romance starring a bowtie wearing nerd, a sexy lacrosse coach, and a shenanigan inducing script!

Excerpt

Asher closed his mouth in a tight line and sighed. “We should change the topic. Every time I’m with you, I secure my spot in Hades.”

I threw my head back and laughed. “What’s with you and the guilty conscience? I admire your commitment to honesty, Ash, but I don’t think it’s healthy to punish yourself after the fact. Not to mention, your rules seem arbitrary. They don’t make sense.”

“Sure, they do.”

“Hmph. You say sex is a part of nature, and you’re happy to discuss it until your internal sex-o-meter overloads and you decide you’ve overstepped some invisible boundary. It’s like you want to punish yourself for no good reason.”

Asher opened and closed his mouth. “I don’t do that.”

I polished off my salad, pushed my plate aside, and reached for my wineglass. “Yeah, you do. You should give yourself a break once in a while.”

“Says the devil incarnate.”

“Who me?” I flashed a roguish grin. “I’m not so bad, and you don’t have to be so good. Is this the remnants of a super religious upbringing or—”

“Oh, gosh, no. My mother is a hippie. She’s not judgmental at all.”

“Then why—”

“I’m just weird, Blake.”

His tone was firm rather than sharp and sent a strong message that he’d prefer to drop the subject. In fact, he looked suspiciously eager to greet the waiter when he returned to clear our salad dishes and set dinner plates on the table. I observed his animated hand gestures, his starched collar, and perfectly straight bow tie, wondering what he was hiding under all that armor.

Asher wasn’t weird, he was—okay, fine…he was totally weird. But I had a feeling he was compensating too. Making up for something or glossing over an unseen flaw. Sort of like a kid standing guard over a lamp he’d busted by accident. No one would notice as long as he made sure the unblemished side was never shown.

Call me crazy, but that got me. Yes, I was very attracted to him and definitely wanted to get naked and horizontal with him ASAP. But I wanted to know him too. I wanted to peel away his protective layers and study his quirks. His internal system of checks and balances fascinated me.

I twirled my fork around my pasta and smiled. “You know, I’m no devil and anyone who sucks dick like you cannot be an angel. There’s got to be a good middle ground for us.”

“Yes. As friends.”

“Right,” I agreed, shifting in my seat to adjust my cock when he hummed around a mouthful of pasta. No joke, my dick woke up at the mention of alien sex and was now stretching the seam of my zipper. I sipped my wine and willed my body to get the “friend” memo. “So, buddy…since we’re supposed to be spending time together now, I think you should come to my game next weekend.”

“Game,” he repeated, drawing out the single syllable into two. “The one you coach? Or do you play also?”

“I play with a club team, but our season ended a couple of weeks ago. We’re on a break till summer, which is fine ’cause my kids have finals and my girls’ team is in the last stretch before CIFs.”

“I don’t understand that acronym, but I’ll come to your game and maybe afterward we can do power tool…things.”

“Sounds like a date. The game is at ten at Westgate. I’ll text you the address.”

“Okay. I have questions, like…where do I sit and what should I wear? Also, what are the rules?”

I smiled. “Sit wherever you want and wear whatever you want. The idea is to have fun. Well…and to kick OC Lutheran’s ass. As for the rules…the goal is to put the ball in the net more times than our opponent. You’ll be able to follow along.”

He didn’t look convinced. “I’ll do some research. Now, what about us? Do you want me to be there and not speak or…are you going to introduce me? And if so, what will you say? I need to rehearse my lines.”

“Lines? This isn’t a play, Ash. We’re friends.”

“No, we’re not. We hardly know each other.”

I frowned. “Then we need to fix that ’cause I’m going to introduce you as my friend. It’s less complicated that way.”

“And if someone asks where we met, I’m allowed to improvise, correct?” he teased. taking a big bite of pasta.

Too big of a bite. He slurped a rogue piece of tagliatelle with wide eyes, then covered his mouth with his napkin. It was pretty freaking cute. I pointed at the sauce on his cheek.

When he swiped at the wrong side, I hooked my finger and motioned for him to lean in. I wiped his cheek with my thumb, underestimating the intimacy of the gesture. The strong current of heat and desire sizzling between us threw me off guard, rendering me speechless.

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Meet the Author

Lane Hayes loves a good romance! An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to well-told love story with beautifully written characters. Her debut novel was a 2013 Rainbow Award finalist and subsequent books have received Honorable Mentions, and were winners in the 2016, 2017, and 2018-2019 Rainbow Awards. She loves red wine, chocolate and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband in a not quite empty nest.

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Black Ice Heart (Unveiled Magic #1) by Abrianna Denae


Author Abriana Denae and Gay Book Promotions celebrate the release of Black Ice Heart (Unveiled Magic #1)! Find out more about the new urban fantasy and enter in the giveaway for a chance to win: a choice of e-book from the author's backlist and a $10 Amazon gift card!

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Black Ice Heart (Unveiled Magic, book 1) 

Author: Abrianna Denae

Publisher: Self-published

Cover Artist: Sleepy Fox Studio

Release Date: October 19, 2021

Genre: Urban Fantasy 

Tropes: Soul mates, hurt/comfort 

Themes: Slavery, fate

Trigger Warning: Mild torture, suicidal intention & ideation

Heat Rating:  3 flames     

Length:  77 000 words/ 265 pages

It is the first in a new series

The story does not end on a cliffhanger, but there is an overreaching story arc.

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Universal link  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

Blurb

Born into a wealthy and historically infamous family, all Ryson Melford wants is to live a simple life. 

A twist of fate leads him to a man named Jack, changing everything. One touch and Ryson  knows he’ll do whatever it takes to keep Jack in his life, despite the warnings from his brothers.

But Jack is not what he seems. Harboring dark and deadly secrets, he’s a mystery that is inexplicably tied to the Melford family. The closer Ryson and Jack get, the more dangerous things become as the present begins to reflect the past, threatening to destroy what is left of Ryson and his brothers. 

Ryson finds himself trapped between doing what is right for his family and the man he is unexpectedly connected to. When truths come out and past mistakes are repeated, blood will be spilled...and a magic that was all but forgotten is unleashed in a battle that may spell the end for all of them. 

Excerpt 

Fire. Sun-warmed earth, fragrant grass. Summer doesn’t bother with words. She wraps her magic around him, so tight he’s barely able to stand.

She yanks on the invisible chains, half dragging him along. The bright throne room is almost blinding. He doesn’t know how long they have kept him in the dark for this time, but he knows it’s been the longest length of time so far.

“Sit,” Mother says.

Summer pushes him down and he falls unceremoniously to the floor.

“Do you know what day it is, amor?” Mother asks.

“N-no, Mother.” His words are stilted. When was the last time he spoke?

“Why, it’s the fiftieth anniversary of your mistake, of course.”

His breath catches in his lungs.

Fifty years he’s been in chains...fifty years since they started torturing him whenever it pleases them.

Since he got Sara killed.

Mother smiles a cruel smile.

“My poor pet. I know it’s been a trying time for you.” She steps up to him.

Her scent envelopes him. Earthy and familiar. When he was younger—before he knew better—that scent meant home and comfort. Now, it’s nothing but a trigger for his nightmares.

“Since it’s such a special day, I have allowed Summer’s request to spend some time with her dear twin.”

His eyes flicker to where Summer stands just off to the side. Her smile is sweet, deceptive. Of all his sisters, she’s the one who hates him the most.

“Well,” Mother says, “enjoy your day, amor.” She leans down and presses a kiss on his cheek. He wants nothing more than to scrub her touch from his skin.

Summer doesn’t even bother telling him to stand. She drags him from the throne room.

His tender, abused flesh aches as it rubs on the marble floors.

Summer tosses him into an empty room.

“I’ve waited a long time for this.”

He stares into his twin’s honey eyes. There’s no warmth in them, not for him. Throughout their long lives, she has been his worst tormentor.

Summer and winter.

Opposites in every way.

One ice-cold, with a warm, generous heart.

The other, hotter than the sun, but stone cold on the inside.

Cherished daughter.

Good for nothing slave.

He always knew this day would come. He resigned himself to its inevitability long ago.

For the last fifty years, he’s endured their punishments, he’s served as their plaything. He cannot remember a time where they didn’t torment him. It has always been this way.

Except Mother had never before allowed Summer to be alone with him. She knew the contempt her youngest daughter held for her unwanted twin. Mother Nature never minded if her pet got damaged, a little magic could heal his injuries. But she knew that if given the chance, Summer would make sure there would be nothing left of him to save.

As he stares into his sister’s eyes, he knows that death has come for him at long last.

About the Author 

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

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

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

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

Social Media Links

Facebook  |  Facebook Group  |  Twitter  |  Instagram

BookBub  |  Goodreads Author Page  |  Amazon Author Page  

You can also email her at authorabridenae@gmail.com

Giveaway

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win 

a choice of e-book from the author's backlist and a $10 Amazon gift card

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: La Petite Mort (The Devil's in the Details #4) by Pelaam


Author Pelaam and Pride Publishing are ready for the Halloween romance spirit with new release, La Petite Mort (The Devil's in the Details #4)! Read more about the latest in the series! Don't miss the $50 First Romance giveaway!

La Petite Mort by Pelaam

Book 4 in the The Devil's in the Details series

General Release Date: 19th October 2021

Word Count: 45,548
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 195

Genres:

ANGELS AND DEMONS
CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
GAY
GLBTQI
HORROR
M√ČNAGE AND MULTIPLE PARTNERS
PARANORMAL

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Book Description

The little death… Sometimes you never wake up.

When Samael, an incubus-possessed witch, escapes Garen and Luke, leaving not just another victim but also one of their own injured in the process, Garen is determined to track down the demon.

Its trail vanishes when it leaves New Zealand, only to be eventually picked up again by a team working in the UK.

Invited to assist them, Garen and Luke travel to England to meet the other team of investigators—Emery, his husband Alex and their friend Kadin. They also meet an unusual and unofficial team member, Grim.

The incubus has gone to ground in the country home of Steven Huntleigh, rich playboy and president of the Hellfire Club.

Emery, Luke and Kadin infiltrate the club and Kadin risks flirting with the incubus.

When the time comes to battle the demon, will the team be able to resist its lure—or will they become additional victims of its insatiable appetite?

Excerpt

From his vantage point at the back of the room, Luke watched Garen as his husband paced back and forth, gesticulating sharply and trying to get the woman across the table to engage with him.

But, far from cooperating, she looked increasingly more irritated. Luke stifled his sigh, knowing that the sound would only annoy her further. It’s not like I’m surprised. Melani-Leigh Waru-Richards was a socialite—rich, attractive, at least superficially, and used to others doing what she wanted, not vice versa. Her reputation had preceded her—arrogant, spoiled, demanding and downright rude.

But she’s also one of our three prime candidates for dying at the hands of a demon or demonic entity on the night of the upcoming full moon.

With Thomas’ approval, Garen had brought her to their headquarters where he and Luke were hoping to persuade her of the danger and have her agree to protective care until the moon waned. The full moon is just two nights away. As much as she’s proving to be a stupid, stubborn fool, I still don’t want her to be another victim.

“We wouldn’t be wasting your time, our time or anyone else’s if we didn’t believe the threat was very real, Ms. Waru-Richards.” Garen stopped pacing, slammed his hands down on the table and leaned toward the woman. It was a tactic that had worked many times in the past, but not with Melani-Leigh, who pursed her lips tightly and glowered at him before rising slowly from her seat.

“Inspector Morloc—”

“The name is Warnock.” Garen growled the words and Luke quickly went to his husband’s side, laying a hand at the small of his back, wanting to defuse the situation. Now that he was closer to the woman, he could see why she’d been described as a ‘plastic princess’.

Although her face appeared wrinkle-free, her hands told another story. Luke already knew her hair owed more to extensions than natural tresses. False eyelashes, fake tan, synthetic nails, artificial hair and silicone breasts. But for someone who’s in her late forties, from a distance she could pass as still in her twenties.

“All we’re asking you to do is to allow us to put you somewhere safe for the duration of the full moon. It’s just for a couple of nights.” Luke turned on all his persuasive powers, but Melani-Leigh simply folded her arms, her posture ramrod straight.

“You don’t even know for sure that I’m even in any danger, do you? Well, do you?” She looked from Luke to Garen then back at Luke. “Exactly as I thought. No, you don’t. You don’t know anything.”

“We know two people have already died, and we’d like to prevent a third.” Garen drew himself to his full height and glared down at Melani-Leigh.

“If we could be more specific, we would be,” Luke added as he rubbed soothing circles on Garen’s back.

“I have two very important functions to attend.” Melani-Leigh flicked at imaginary dust on her designer jacket sleeve. “Both involve charities that I personally sponsor—and not only am I expected to be there, I shall be. There will be top celebrities in attendance. Look… I’m no fool. I have a hand-selected team of expert security personnel who will be with me at all times. I can assure you that I won’t dismiss your concerns, but they won’t stop my life, either. No one but those closest to me, or most trusted, are permitted anywhere near me. I take it that this…creature doesn’t attack in full view of hundreds of witnesses.”

“No, but—” Garen started, and Luke winced as Melani-Leigh held up a perfectly manicured hand.

“No. You said it yourself. I will invite no strangers into my home. I’ll even salt the doors and windows and burn sage.” She cocked an eyebrow at Luke. “See? I’m aware of protections.”

“There’s nothing we can say to persuade you otherwise?” Luke asked. We can hardly threaten to lock her up if she won’t accept our help, and it is possible that she isn’t the intended victim.

“No. And if I thought I was in danger I’d have already done something about it. In my position, I have to be mindful of stalkers, overzealous fans, potential thieves and would-be kidnappers. Tell you what…” Melani-Leigh reached into the Gucci purse that she’d set on the table and drew out two gold-embossed invitations. “I’ll have you added to the guest list, Inspector.” She scribbled quickly on each card. “There we are, Inspector Warnock and guest. You can keep an eye on things right through the evening.”

“Thank you.” Garen accepted the invitations, passing them straight to Luke without as much as a glance. “We won’t keep you. There’s nothing more to be said.”

“Look… I appreciate you have a job to do, but believe me, my security is second to none. I pay for them to be the best.” Melani-Leigh hooked the purse over her wrist and sauntered to the door. “See you on Friday night.” Without a backward glance, she left the room, the door closing softly behind her.

For a moment there was silence in the room and Luke finally allowed himself the heavy sigh he’d previously banked.

“Fucking arrogant idiot.” Garen snapped out the words, his expression a mix of irritation and concern. “‘I pay for them to be the best’.”

“I suppose we could have shown her the desiccated corpses we have.” Luke sat on the edge of the table. “But she’d have probably put in a complaint against us. At least we can be on hand.” Luke fanned the invites and Garen snorted.

“But we can’t have a protective circle or a backup team ready to support us.”

“No.” Luke ran his hand through his hair. “Or can we?”

“What?” Garen turned to face Luke. “How?”

“If Thomas will throw his weight behind us, I’m sure that we can arrange with the hotel manager to allow us to have a room where we can set up a protective circle…just as a precaution. She was right in one respect. Neither of the victims were attacked in the open. One was in bed, and the other was sprawled across a kitchen table.”

“And both were naked.” Garen cocked his head. “Which suggests to me that sex may be involved. We couldn’t tell anything useful from the bodies. They were far too desiccated.

“Which could point toward a succubus or an incubus.” Luke sighed. “One that doesn’t care whether its victims are male or female. So many ifs, buts and maybes. We need to narrow down the search for ‘what’. Then we may find the ‘who’.”

“No signs of forced entry. Nothing out of place or missing. In both instances the victim’s friends even described them as very happy.” Garen rubbed his chin. “No. There was another phrase.”

“A new lease on life.” Luke snapped his fingers.

“Yes.” Garen nodded slowly. “That’s it. Over the past few weeks, they’d had a new lease on life—almost identical in both cases.”

“Then I suggest we find a few close friends of Melani-Leigh’s and see if she’s having a new lease on life. If so, then she’s the one we’ll target, and I’ll organize teams for the others.”

“Perfect.” Luke pecked a kiss to Garen’s cheek. “And I’ll make sure we have protections and spells for dealing with an incubus or a succubus.”

“Take care out there. Keep in touch. I’ll see you later. Come back here when you’ve got what you need.” Garen pulled Luke into a tight hug, and Luke wrapped his arms around his husband’s waist.

“I will.” Luke tilted his head and Garen gave him the kiss he craved. For a moment Luke lost himself in the feel, taste and scent of his husband. Reluctantly he slowly eased back. “I won’t be too long.”

“Good. By the time you return, I’ll have the teams organized and get Thomas to deal with the hotel hosting our potential victim.”

“Get schematics. We can map the place out and ensure we have everything covered.” Luke grinned up at Garen. “If the demonic force strikes there, we’ll have enough protections in place to deal with it.”

“Will do.” Garen gave a curt nod, then spun Luke around, swatting his ass to make him move forward. “Let’s get this started. I’ll feel happier when you’re back here.’

“I won’t be long.” Luke set off at a trot. The sooner I get going, the sooner I’ll be back.

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About the Author

Pelaam

Living in clean, green New Zealand, Pelaam is a multi-published author of gay romance and erotica. When not working at writing, Pelaam likes to indulge in her other passions of cookery and wine appreciation.

Giveaway

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Notice: This competition ends on 2nd November 2021 at 12am EST. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group. 

Blog Tour + Giveaway: Dual Threat Love by Lola Noire


Author Lola Noire and Gay Book Promotions host today's blog tour stop for contemporary romance, Dual Threat Love! Read more about the first in the new series and enter in the eBook copy giveaway!

BLOG TOUR

Book Title: Dual Threat Love

Author: Lola Noire 

Publisher: Jessica Watkins Presents 

Release Date: September 15, 2021

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance 

Length:  53 000 words

Heat Rating: 4 flames    

It is book 1 of 2 and ends on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

Will Patrick, now a Superstar NFL Quarterback, be willing to give Ace a second chance? Or will old pain and Patrick’s high-profile personality stand in the way?

Blurb 

Ace, the Billionaire Heir and Patrick, the Help’s son, met when they were sixteen and thirteen years old, respectively. What started as childhood friendship forever altered their lives for better and for worse. Faced with misunderstanding and miscommunication, they went their separate ways hurt and heartbroken. 

Years later, they met again. This time, the Billionaire CEO is determined to win his best friend and the love of his life, Patrick, back. 

While Ace is determined to rekindle this love, will Patrick, now a Superstar NFL Quarterback, be willing to give Ace a second chance? Or will old pain and Patrick’s high-profile personality stand in the way?

Whether together or apart, both men will fight to the bitter end for their version of happily ever after.

Excerpt from the Prologue

Ace

Patrick and I met years ago during a summer vacation at my family’s villa on Highland Beach in Boca Raton. Patrick was 13 years old and I was 16 at the time. As usual, my parents had been fighting. My mother was miserable in our home on Long Island, so she decided to take a trip to Florida to get away from my father and his latest mistress. I could have stayed in New York and hung out with my friends or I could have traveled to any place in the world of my choosing. However, I decided to accompany my mother. Blame it on the soft spot I had for that frail-looking, pill-popping, pale lady.

A few days into our vacation, the grand villa felt more like a four-by-four shoebox. I was bored out of my mind and on the verge of losing my shit. Taking pity on me, Ms. June, the housekeeper and Patrick’s mother, told my mother that her second son, Patrick, her baby boy, as she fondly called him, who was around my age, was also home doing nothing for that summer.

“If that’s okay with you, Mrs. De’Rochard, I can bring him with me to work so that Ace can have someone around his age to talk to,” she suggested.

“That would be lovely if you could, Ms. June,” Mother replied without any hesitation.

“Pat is a good boy, so they should get along.”

“I hope they do. Again, thank you for your thoughtfulness.”

While Mother and Ms. June readily made plans for Patrick and me, I was a bit apprehensive. It wasn’t that I was scared or did not want to meet Ms. June’s son. The truth was I’d had limited contact with Black kids in my young life and I had no idea what to expect. It wasn’t like I didn’t know anything about Black people. I lived in New York City, for crying out loud. However, my inner circle had consisted of only a few selected friends from similar social, economic, and racial backgrounds as me, strategically handpicked by my parents since I was very young.

As the sole heir to the multi-billion-dollar De’Rochard Empire, I had learned early on to be cautious of the constant danger that lurked around me. The risks of being approached by individuals with ulterior motives, being kidnapped, or worse yet, being murdered by someone who had a vendetta against my family were ever-present.”

I was only five years old when my nanny of three years had conspired to kidnap me in exchange for $10 million in ransom. It took the FBI and my parents’ private security team less than 2 hours to locate us in Buffalo, New York and whisk me to safety. Leonora and her boyfriend, the apparent mastermind of the scheme, were arrested. Unfortunately, they did not live long enough to face a judge. My father had made sure to make an example of them just in case someone else might have had a similar idea. Father had been the only judge and jury of that case. The Crusader Disciples had acted as the executioners. My own personal security team was assigned to me soon after, which consisted of no less than three guards and they’d been with me ever since.

To say the least, I was anxious about meeting Patrick. All day I kept thinking that I should lay off the news as the media often portrayed young Black men living in the inner cities as less than favorable. My father’s views on Black men were also not the prettiest, to put it lightly. So, sue me if I had never dealt with any Black people except for some of the help. The night before Ms. June brought Patrick with her, I got really edgy as endless “what-ifs” ran through my mind. I finally fell asleep in the early morning hours only to be plagued by dreams of different adverse outcomes of meeting Patrick.

“Hi, I’m Patrick,” said the small boy standing next to Ms. June by the theater room’s door in a soft and sultry timbre.

I looked up to the most beautiful brownish-hazel eyes that I had ever seen that were covered with unbelievable long lashes.

“Ace… I’m Ace,” I replied a few seconds too late, not realizing that I was staring. I quickly reached for his extended hand that felt so small in mine as I held it a bit longer than I should have.

“You boys, have fun!” Ms. June shouted as she went about her business.

Pat did not pull his hand from mine. Instead, he glanced at our hands with a raised brow. I quickly let go and said the first damn thing that came to mind.

“So, you and me the whole summer, hmm?”

“Looks like it.”

Our eyes met. He smiled, and all of my nervousness was forgotten. What a smile he had! His plump, pink lips covered a mouth with perfect white teeth. His eyes were full of mischief that was made more noticeable by his smile. I marveled at his beauty. His dark chocolate complexion seemed to radiate under the hot Floridian sun. I found myself staring at him too many times during that summer. I didn’t know why, but I could not wait to see him walk back through the door the next day each time he would go home.

Soon, I felt comfortable enough around him to be myself and talk about anything. We would talk for hours and never get bored. We talked about our respective lives. Unlike other people, Pat, the short name I soon began to call him, never asked me about my fortune. He only asked about New York City since he had never been there before; and he expressed a desire to see Central Park. I told him about my friends, school, and some of the countries I’d visited. Like typical teenage boys, we talked about girls and celebrity crushes.

I taught him how to play chess, poker, and countless games on my PlayStation3. He was a quick learner, and it did not take him long to start beating me at the games I had taught him. He eagerly reciprocated my lessons by showing me how to play dominos and lidos. Unlike me, Patrick was into sports. He played both basketball and football. He’d managed to get me play a few games even though that wasn’t my thing. It didn’t matter what we were playing because for that summer, as long as I was playing with Pat, I was happy. Also, we both were excellent swimmers so we spent countless hours at the beach or the heated indoor pool trying to outdo each other. I liked our swimming sessions the most because I could steal glances at his body without any restriction. I particularly liked the tingling sensation in my stomach whenever our bodies touched while we wrestled around.

Patrick was obsessed with the X-Men series. I quickly learned that Wolverine was his absolute favorite character. He could not wait for X-Men Origins: Wolverine to come out the following summer. He shared that his older brother, Lamar, whom he seemed to idolize, had gotten mixed up with a gang and was now serving a three-year prison sentence for possession of narcotics with the intent to sell in a school zone. I noticed the sadness in his eyes when he talked about his brother, and it broke my heart to see how much he was hurting.

About the Author  

Born in Haiti and bred in Brooklyn, NY, Lola Noire is a passionate fan of all things sports and has a love-hate relationship with traveling. Lola is an alumna of Niagara University, John Jay College, and National University of Ireland, Galway.

Lola Noire is the author of the debut novel, Dual Threat Love, an interracial M/M sports story. 

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