Release Blitz + Giveaway: Spark (The Fire of Felwing #2) by Elizabeth Tybush


Author Elizabeth Tybush and IndiGo Marketing promote new release, Spark (The Fire of Felwing #2)! Discover more about the fantasy and enter in the NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: Spark

Series: The Fire of Felwing, Book Two

Author: Elizabeth Tybush

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 05/17/2022

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 107300

Genre: Fantasy, LGBTQIA+, bisexual, pansexual, magic, dragons, slow burn, magic users, friends to lovers, mythical creatures, royalty, redemption, past mistakes, portals

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Description

Immediately following the stunning Halloween reveal in Flicker…

Prince Solin Felwing’s exile on Earth went from tranquil to dangerous with a spark of magick. Now, severed from his redemption and his friends at the soup kitchen, Solin is left to sort out his unstable powers, his guilty conscience, and the realities of pursuing a relationship with a certain charming barista. At least his human friend Sam stuck around, although he’s getting tailed by his ex and his tech is going haywire, so things aren’t going great for him either.

As the holidays draw near, Solin discovers his name on someone’s Naughty List. With a protection detail of ghosts from his past, and a growing threat from the rogue humans of the Shadowfall Alliance, Solin must keep his worlds from colliding without losing what few friends he has left. Because those hunting him no longer care about collateral damage; they’ll torch everything he’s built, and anyone who gets in the their way will be consumed by the flames.

Excerpt

Spark
Elizabeth Tybush © 2022
All Rights Reserved

2017

Polaris, New York

The new ringtone I’d applied to Sam’s number echoed in the kitchen. I paused the television and glowered at the phone from the sofa. What now? Another blip notifying him of a portal from Cydrithenna? A warning that agents from the Shadowfall Alliance were on their way to kill me? Or had he merely hacked into my phone and heard what had happened with Brida on Halloween?

I’d already scolded myself enough for that. I didn’t deserve to have any semblance of my powers back, nor anyone’s kindness. Not after the terror I instilled in someone I cared about, someone who never did anything wrong and who did not betray me. I had betrayed her. I had become my worst nightmare. I hadn’t changed at all.

The phone ceased ringing. A minor pause. It blared again.

“Fine.” If this curse was going to fade on me, then I might as well make use of my powers. I continued lying on the sofa and willed the phone toward me with telekinesis. It floated unsteadily. With illusory magick, I transformed it into a tablet, then a chair, then a dog. Easy enough. I returned it to its original state and answered.

“What.”

“Did I wake you? You sound pissed.”

“What do you want, Sam?”

“I want you to get out of there and come hang out with me.”

“Goodbye, Sam.”

The phone rang again the moment I hung up.

“Sam. I mean it. I’m not interested. And since when do you call me again? I thought those friends of yours had gotten access to your phone.”

“Line’s safe again. Trust me,” he said over the sound of clanking glasses and laughter. “And hey, whatever’s bothering you, I promise, it’s not going to—yeah, two more of those, and a round for that table over there, yeah, thanks—sorry. It’s not going to bother you anymore, I promise.”

I rubbed my forehead. Although my powers had returned, the ability to erase tension headaches eluded me. “Are you at a bar?”

“Yes, and you should be here too. I’ll text you the address.”

The thought of drinking made my stomach churn. “I’ll pass.”

“Don’t hang up again. Look, what do I have to do to get you to come out tonight?”

“Perhaps tell me why it’s so urgent.” I’d abstained from drowning my guilt in liquor last night, despite my slightly improved constitution. I’d woken up on the floor of my bathroom too many times early in my exile, and I didn’t care for it. With Sam, I’d be putting myself in that compromising situation again, and risked deepening the hole I had dug myself into.

“There’s someone here you need to meet. Oh—what? Oh, okay. Gotta go, Solin. Bye.”

I sneered at the phone in my palm and let it rest on my chest. Sam’s message lit up the screen. I barely lifted the phone and stared at the address until the screen decided I’d been idle too long. Its light faded.

As did my judgment.

Sam might’ve actually heard my desire to help humanity more than one meal at a time and brought in someone new for me to work with. I had no intention on slogging my way back to the kitchen again. I’d already lied to Victoria about being ill for today’s shift, and she blamed a hangover that I wish I’d had as punishment for lying to her. But what of tomorrow, when Brida and I would be there together?

Would Brida even show?

Would I?

I could not let Brida leave a place she loved. This was her workplace first, not mine.

I changed out of what I’d fallen asleep in last night, choosing gray pants and a plain casual sweater with sleeves that had trouble staying rolled up. I threw on a light coat and headed to the address. I didn’t mask, but being so vulnerable, and apparently recognizable, to at least one person in Polaris made me paranoid. How long until Gaian technology, as primitive as it was, encapsulated my digital image and fed it through a mystical algorithm to determine my identity? In my prime, I’d been able to fool cameras, but I doubted that ability had returned yet. I glanced at the storefront windows as I walked. At least I could manipulate reflections again.

I arrived at the bar, passing through the outer gate of smokers and their toxic cloud into an upscale dive of wood, warm light, and rock music. Athletes graced the screens, and few patrons paid any attention to the newcomer. Sam knew what he was doing.

I found Sam at a high top table flirting with a woman I didn’t recognize. He whispered something to her that had the effect of politely shooing her. I was relieved he hadn’t called his non-friend out to hook up with a stranger.

“Aren’t you in a monogamous relationship, Sam?” I said, taking a seat on the stool across from him. I hung my coat on a hook beneath the tall table.

“We’re kind of experimenting with this whole ‘she isn’t monogamous right now, and it’s all my fault’ thing.”

“I’m…sorry?”

“It’s been an ongoing experiment. Actually we broke up before you arrived. Not here. Tonight. But here. You know. Here. Earth.”

“I understa—”

“And then we got back together again. And broke up. Last week. I think.” He shook his head. “Anyway, feels good to get your ass out of bed, doesn’t it?”

“I wasn’t in bed.” Never mind that I’d been lying on the sofa.

“You sounded pretty perturbed.”

“I was watching something.”

“What?”

“Star Trek.”

He blinked at me. “You were watching…” He leaned over the table, eyed me like I were a specimen, then leaned back. “Okay, hold on. You were watching Star Trek. Which one? Go.”

“The episode with—”

“Sorry, not episode, I mean series.”

I blinked at him. “I don’t understand.”

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Meet the Author

Liz plays way too much Minecraft and dreams about producing a television series. She loves an old-fashioned film noir and, unlike her character Solin, takes her coffee with a healthy dose of milk. Recent accomplishments include a 2019 fellowship at the Storytellers’ Institute and the book you’re about to read. 

Flicker is her debut novel with NineStar Press. To learn more about The Fire of Felwing series and other upcoming stories, visit Liz at elizabethtybush.com.

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Winning Over Harmon (Love Me Do #3) by Megan Slayer


Author Megan Slayer and Pride Publishing promote new release,Winning Over Harmon (Love Me Do #3)! Read more about the latest in the series and enter in the First Romance gift card giveaway!

Winning Over Harmon by Megan Slayer

Book 3 in the Love Me Do series

Word Count:  42,193
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 169

GENRES:

CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
GAY
GLBTQI

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Book Description

Second chances are possible if you’re willing to give love a chance.

Harmon Keyes wasn’t looking for romance when he visited Roy Mars’ gallery show, but the moment he sees Winston Saint, he’s smitten. He has no idea who Winston is, but the attraction is off the charts. He also isn’t sure if he’ll ever see the man again. Can a trip to Dye Hard Style help get him together with Winston?

Michael Winston Saint knew the second he spotted Harmon that he’d fallen head over heels. He’d never forget the geeky guy who talked too much or that kiss full of electricity and passion. Unfortunately, he has to leave the gallery show before he can give Harmon his number. He returns to Norville for a rest and the chance to connect with his dream man. Winston’s determined to win over Harmon at all costs.

Will the teacher and the rock star be able to make a go of their relationship? Or will the gossip and complication of small-town life be more than they can handle?

Reader advisory: This book contains references to addiction and inadequate parenting.

Excerpt

“You’re sure this is the place to find someone?” Winston asked. “I mean, it’s an art gallery. How many hot guys are going to be here?” He elbowed his band member and best friend, Duke.

“Why would I tell you to come to this if there weren’t hot guys?” Duke shrugged. “I mean I don’t know if there are available men here. There are people here and that’s what you need. Look, I don’t care if you find someone or not, but I want you to get on with your life. This is a good place to meet people―even if they aren’t hot men. You just need to talk to someone who isn’t famous and we won’t be recognized here. Promise. The focus is on Roy.”

“It should be.” He spied one of the paintings. The art might have been created by Roy, but the pieces focused on Duke. The romance between the men blossomed and shimmered on every painting and in each photograph.

Winston sighed. He wanted a love like this. Wanted to be desired and craved. He’d thought he had this with his previous girlfriends, but no one had really loved him. They loved the image and the money connected with him. He resumed looking at the art and drinking in the images. People milled around and some chatted, but they did leave him alone, like Duke had said they would. He delighted in being able to walk around without being accosted. No one cared he was famous. The art mattered.

He stopped in front of a gold-framed painting of Duke on a stool. He’d never looked at his friend in the nude—not intentionally. They’d shared moments in the shower when the entire band had had to use one hotel room, but he’d never looked at Duke like a lover. But this way made him seem sexy and approachable, but sad and lonely, too.

“Have you ever seen anything so sensual?” a woman beside him asked. “It’s like the artist captured him at his most vulnerable.” She clicked her tongue. “I love it.”

“It’s nice.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to keep looking at Duke this way. He wandered over to another piece, an abstract one. He liked these better because he could interpret them as he pleased. He liked the play of color blocks.

“Do you like that one?” The curator gestured to the work. “Only three thousand dollars. Might be wonderful above the sofa.”

He snorted. He didn’t have a couch, much less a home to put either in. “Oh, I don’t know.”

“About its worth? Or the placing?” the curator asked. “I’m sure you could come up with a better placement. Just a suggestion.”

“This seems more like a statement piece than a placeholder in a room.” He nodded. “But I’m considering buying it.”

“You are?” The curator grinned. “I’ll let the others know it’s under consideration.”

“Sure.” He glanced over to his right and paused. A man he’d never seen stood before one of the photograph series. Winston’s breath lodged in his throat. The moment he looked at the guy, he wanted to get to know him.

He strode across the room, dodging and weaving around the people in the crowd until he reached the mystery man. He’d never forget him if he tried. He liked the way this person’s sport coat seemed tailored for his body, the way he carried himself with confidence and the slight graying at his temples. He wanted to touch him and memorize every detail of his face. To dance with him and kiss… Oh God, he wanted to kiss him.

“What are you doing?” Duke asked. He nudged Winston. “You’re drooling.”

“Would you believe I’m in love?” He faced Duke. “The moment I saw him across the room, I fell in love.”

“You fall for someone after every concert, too.” Duke rolled his eyes. “Who is it?”

“The guy over there.” He gestured to the man, trying not to be obvious. “Dark hair, dark eyes, tall…handsome. I want him.”

“He’s not a possession.” Duke swatted Winston’s arm. “He’s a person.”

“I know that.” He glared at his bandmate. “Jesus. I’m not heartless.” He didn’t want to own this guy. Just experience him and find out if they could be together forever. “It’s like that old song. I’ve seen his face and I can’t forget it. I can’t forget that I want to be with this person, and I want everyone to know I’m in love.”

Duke snorted. “In love. You have no idea what love is.”

“Maybe it’s time I found out.” He swatted Duke’s arm again. “Excuse me. I need to meet my destiny.”

“Right.” Duke didn’t chase him.

Good. He didn’t want to be chased. The attraction was instant. He needed to know this handsome man in the suit coat. He stopped beside the guy. “Do you like this painting?”

The man rocked on his feet and chuckled. “I like a lot of art.” He met Winston’s gaze. “Do you?”

“Like this work? Sure.” Winston swept his gaze over him. Dark hair, deep hazel eyes with chips of green among the brown, thick lashes and the guy reminded him of a professor. The studious nature spoke to Winston. He’d bet this guy wasn’t trouble. Wouldn’t get him into trouble or con him into going back to his drug habit.

“Is this your first show?” the man asked.

“Of this sort, yeah.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Is it yours?”

“No, I like to visit the various shows here at the gallery. I appreciate art. I’m not artistic at all, but I like to look at it.” He smiled and the warmth in his smile lit in his eyes. “My name is Harmon.”

He offered his hand to Harmon. He liked the sound of his name and the way his skin tingled when they touched. “I’m…Michael.” He didn’t want to admit his stage name just yet. If Harmon could like him without the airs of his fame, then they had a chance of making it. Too many people couldn’t see beyond the glitter of celebrity.

“Hi, Michael.” Harmon gestured to the painting. “What do you think of this one? I like the play of light, but the sadness in the subject really gets to me. It’s like I’m looking into the soul of the man, while being closed off from what’s wrong.”

Damn. He simply saw yet another painting of a naked Duke. He pieced through what Harmon had said. He hated having to hide his true emotions behind the mask of the character he’d created for the rock music stage. Few saw the pain he hid because he’d closed himself off from so many people.

“Is that what you see, too?” Harmon asked. “I’m famous for getting these things wrong.” He chuckled. “My friend Suzanne would tell you I see things that aren’t there.”

“Suzanne?” Shit. He hadn’t considered this guy might not be gay. “Girlfriend?”

“God, no. She wants to be more, but she’s just a fellow teacher. She thinks we’ll make beautiful babies. I hate to tell her I’m not interested in being a dad. Ever.” Harmon blushed. “Shit. I’ve talked too much.”

“Not at all.” Winston snagged two glasses of sparkling cider from the tray. “Have one?”

“Thank you.” Harmon sipped the drink. “I’m told the artist and his husband are recovering addicts, so no booze. I don’t mind when someone drinks, but I’m not much of a drinker. I can’t hold my liquor.” He blushed again. “And I’m talking too much again.”

“You’re fine.” Winston liked learning about him. “How long have you been teaching?”

“Twelve years.” Harmon grinned and held up his glass. “I got hired right out of college here in Norville. I love teaching in a small town. The moment I took the job, I felt like I’d been welcomed into the town. I became part of the family.”

“It does seem like this place is one big family.” Everyone seemed to know everyone else’s business—except Duke hadn’t known Harmon. According to Duke, Norville was the place to disappear into and find his footing.

“Anyway, they don’t mind that I’m gay, don’t mind that I like being a history nerd and that I’m not interested in being a parent.” Harmon sipped his cider. “What about you? What brings you to the show tonight?”

“My friend encouraged me to come along.” More like conned him, then begged and pushed. “I’m glad I did.” His phone buzzed in his back pocket. Shit. He’d answer it later. “I’m glad I got to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Harmon toyed with the stem of his glass. “So do you live in Norville?”

“I’m looking for a place, but I’m living with a friend.” He needed to get out of Duke’s basement and fast. “Do you know of any good apartments? Or houses?”

“I live in the Cordell building. It’s three blocks from the high school. It’s a small apartment building and I doubt there’s any openings, but I found it through the apartment finder paper. It’s online now. Search Norville apartments and you’ll find it.” Harmon shook his head. “I talk too much. Suzanne would’ve chewed me out by now. She’d tell me I disclosed too much.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He liked how he’d managed to get Harmon to open up. A woman elbowed him and he gestured to Harmon. “Why don’t we go over here? I think we’re monopolizing the painting.”

“Sure.” Harmon followed him to the edge of the room away from the works. “I tend to get wrapped up in the art and it’s nice to talk to someone who isn’t a fellow teacher.”

“Then it’s a good thing we met. I’m not a teacher and could never impart information to students.” He chuckled and toyed with his glass. “I play music.”

“Are you in a band?” Harmon asked.

“I was.” He still had the band, but the Saints were on hiatus. One day he’d get them back together—after he did his stint with the supergroup he’d joined, Big Philo. He hated being without music. “I just like singing.”

“What kind of music?”

“Rock. I like emoting through my songs.” He hesitated a beat. Most people knew who he was, but this man seemed oblivious. “Have you heard of the Saints?”

“No.” Harmon downed more of his cider. “I gravitate more toward oldies and classical music.” He rolled his eyes. “I guess that’s fitting. I like history and would rather listen to old tunes.”

“It’s nice. I like the classics, too. It’s nice to get back to the roots when you sing. I practice on the old songs to get limbered up to perform.” He nodded. “Plus, those songs are so great. Complex, but simple and so full of emotion. I hear them and I know exactly what the singer is going through. Are they in love, breaking up, sadly single…crushing?”

“Yeah.” Harmon’s smile built slowly and his eyes sparkled. “Like how I saw the art.”

“It is.” He held out his hand and the second he touched Harmon’s fingers, sparks shot through his body, just like before. “I have to ask. Are you seeing anyone?” He needed to know if he had competition for Harmon’s attention.

“No.” Harmon inched closer to him. “I’m very single.”

“Would…would you like to have coffee sometime?” Winston asked. “And talk some more?”

“I’d love that.” Harmon placed his nearly empty glass on a close table and opened his mouth to speak, but someone pushed and he collided with Winston. The move managed to knock the rest of the cider from Winston’s glass onto his shirt. “I’m so sorry,” Harmon apologized. “Let me get you some napkins.”

“I’m not going to melt.” He put his glass with Harmon’s and allowed Harmon to blot his shirt. “The last time I had someone clean me up was when I caught the flu.” He’d been so sick and hungover that the roadies had had to carry him off stage. “Thanks.”

“It’s all part of being a teacher. I want to fix things for people.” Harmon continued to sop up the drink. He slowed his touches, seeming to caress Winston’s chest. “You’re like steel under there.”

“I work out.” Instead of drink or get high. “Do you?”

“I run laps at the school. It’s one big square, so it’s easy to do laps indoors or head to the track when it’s nice.” Harmon flattened his hand on Winston’s chest. “Is it just me, or did the temperature spike?”

“It’s warm.” He inched closer to Harmon. “But I like it.” He liked Harmon. He memorized the crinkles at the corners of Harmon’s eyes, the sprinkling of hairs on his cheeks and chin and the way his cologne wrapped around Winston. “May I kiss you?”

Harmon nodded. Instead of answering in words, he bridged the gap between them and kissed Winston.

Winston bit back his initial shock at being touched and kissed, then melted into the connection. He liked being kissed. Liked being held. He grasped Harmon’s hands and kept him close. The softness of Harmon’s lips competed with the slight scratch of his short whiskers. When Harmon opened to him, Winston sucked on Harmon’s tongue. He liked the way this man tasted and the way he felt against him. They were tailored for each other.

Harmon whimpered and deepened the kiss. He bumped noses with Winston and let go of his hands, then slid his arms around Winston.

God, yes. Winston swayed with Harmon, never wanting this moment to end. His synapses misfired and the rest of the world seemed to melt away. Nothing mattered except this kiss.

“There you are.” Someone Winston didn’t know swatted his arm. “Hey.”

Winston rested his forehead on Harmon’s, then sighed. “I think we’re being interrupted.”

“We are.” Harmon blushed and put some space between them. “And they’re staring at you.”

He’d thought so. He could’ve sworn he felt the stare boring into his side. Why did this person have to interrupt him right now? He hooked his fingers in Harmon’s front pants pockets, then stared at the person touching him. “Yes?”

“You’re not responding to your phone.” The man folded his arms. “I’ve been sent to talk to you.”

“Are you being investigated by the IRS?” Harmon asked. “Or the CIA?”

“Neither.” He kissed Harmon on the cheek. “Give me a moment. I’d like to spend more time with you, but I need to address this first. Okay?”

“Sure.” Harmon let go and nodded to the gentleman, then disappeared into the crowd.

Winston gritted his teeth. “What do you want?”

“You need to answer your phone,” the man said. “Dazzle, Ronny, Vik and Rummy are expecting you at the next five gigs. You did remember you signed on to front Big Philo for five shows, right?”

“I remember.” He did, but he’d sort of hoped they’d forgotten about him. “They start next week, right?”

“Tomorrow.”

Fuck. “I need to tell Harmon I’m leaving.” Where was Harmon? “Just a moment.” He surged into the crowd, locating Duke and Roy, but not Harmon. He grasped Duke’s sleeve. “Hey. I need to go.”

“Gonna leave with the guy you were over there kissing?” Duke winked. “He’s cute. Not as cute as Roy, but hey. I got the best guy around.”

“Yeah. The thing is, I’m not leaving with Harmon.” He needed to find him. “Have you seen him?”

“I haven’t.” Duke frowned. “What’s up?”

“I said I’d play with Big Philo and they want me tomorrow. It’s my own fault. I over-scheduled myself.” And he’d have to get going if he planned on making it to the plane to head to the gig on time. “Help me find him.”

“I thought you were done with music for a while. Why pick a supergroup? Jesus. Dazzle alone will get you back on the sauce. You’ve made so much progress.” Duke grabbed Winston’s arm. “Don’t do it.”

“I have to go. I’m contractually bound.” He still didn’t see Harmon. Shit. “I want to tell him goodbye and that I’ll be back.”

“I’ll tell him.” Duke snorted. “I see Lee coming. He looks pissed. Go, but keep your fucking head on. Don’t you dare start taking again. I will kick your ass.”

“I’ll kick my ass.” He growled. “Okay. If I see him before I leave, I’ll tell him I’m going, but please tell him, too. Oh and there’s a painting the curator thinks I’m buying. Tell him I am and let me know what I owe. He said he’d put a hold on it.”

“I’ll handle it.” Duke nodded. “Count on me.”

“Thanks.” He left Duke by the painting of a vase, then hurried to the door with Lee. He’d rather be staying, but he’d signed contracts to say he’d front the supergroup and he had to live up to the contracts. He stopped at the door to look for Harmon one more time without luck. The guy was starting to feel like a figment of his imagination.

“Are you ready?” Lee snapped his fingers. “We need to go.”

“Yeah.” He’d have to explain the situation to Harmon when he returned because, damn it, he was coming back to Norville. He wasn’t done with Harmon. Not by a long shot.

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About the Author

Megan Slayer

Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to LGBTQ and BDSM themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been the runner up in the Kink Category at Love Romances Café as well as nominated at the LRC for best author, best contemporary, best ménage and best anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on Amazon.com.

When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice.

Find out more about Megan on her website, and sign up for the newsletter here. You can also check out her Blog, Amazon Author Page, Bookbub and Instagram.

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Playing for Keeps (Miami Piranhas #1) by Beth Bolden


Author Beth Bolden and Gay Book Promotions share new release info for Playing for Keeps! Learn more about the sports romance and enter in the $20 Amazon gift card giveaway!

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Playing for Keeps

Author and Publisher: Beth Bolden

Cover Artist: Cate Ashwood Designs

Release Date: May 11, 2022

 Genres: Gay contemporary sports romance

Tropes: Forbidden love, age gap, player/coach’s son

Themes: Overcoming fear, positive change, growing trust

Heat Rating: 4 flames     

Length: 85 000 words

It’s the first book in a new series

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Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link  |  Amazon US   |  Amazon UK 

Blurb

Sebastian Howard is the best damn cornerback in the NFL.

Or at least he was.

Age and injuries have taken a toll, and while most people have written him off, Sebastian isn’t ready to acknowledge that at only thirty-two, he’s already in the twilight of his career.

He signs with the Miami Piranhas intending to prove everyone wrong.

Only to realize that the head coach’s son, out-and-proud Beau Dawson, doesn’t believe he can.

Beau is infuriating but brilliant, and when he offers to help him on the field, Sebastian wants to say yes, but there’s one thing stopping him: the unexpected, inconvenient, and all-consuming crush he doesn’t want to have on Beau.

But Beau isn’t interested in playing it safe, with football or with anything else, and soon they’re embroiled in a hot—and secret—affair that would finish Sebastian’s career if Coach Dawson found out.

As Sebastian falls harder for Beau, he begins to realize that actually the worst thing in the world isn’t getting benched, but losing the man he loves.

Excerpt 

The bartender set a new round of drinks in front of them.

“I shouldn’t,” Beau said.

“Why not?”

Because if I have another drink, I’m going to think it’s a really, really good idea to have sex with you, and it’s not.

Sebastian broke into laughter then, and Beau realized, humiliation flushing his cheeks, that he’d said that out loud.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have another one,” Sebastian said, still chuckling as he swirled the straw in his own drink. But then he shot him a speculative glance, and Beau realized he wasn’t the only one thinking about it.

Sebastian had been checking him out all night.

Sebastian had almost kissed him twice, even when he was pissed as hell at him.

“Is that why you thought I manipulated you?” Beau asked before he could stop himself.

You’re the worst. The absolute fucking worst. You’re supposed to be flirting with the super-hot guy you haven’t been able to stop thinking about since he showed at camp, and instead, you’re bringing up that he hates you. A+ work, Beau. Really brilliant. You must be a genius.

At least, Beau thought as Sebastian continued to stare and swirl his drink, he hadn’t said any of that out loud.

Thank God for small miracles.

“Naw,” Sebastian finally said, another glimmer of a smile emerging on his handsome face. “You tried your level best not to flirt with me. It’s not your fault you trying to be all brilliant and professional about it made me hot.”

“No?” Beau squeaked.

Sebastian leaned in, and Beau could smell him again. Lavender and something darker and richer, and he wanted to lick up the neck that the open collar of his white button-down shirt had exposed and taste it, too. Wanted to trace the tattoo peeking out of his collar with his tongue.

Maybe he really shouldn’t have another drink.

Except . . . he could sleep with Sebastian. That wasn’t off-limits. But if they made it a habit, it would inevitably spill into the locker room, and then onto the field, and that was the one hard and fast rule his father had given him.

And he was going to want it to be a habit. They hadn’t even kissed, and Beau already knew it, as easy as breathing.

No, he should really keep his hands in his lap, and his drink un-drunk, but then Sebastian’s eyes practically sparkled with the dare of it and he leaned in another fraction of an inch.

“Don’t you want to know how hot it made me?” Sebastian crooned in that dirty, sexy voice of his, all low and enticing, and Beau lost the fight with himself.

He reached out and laid his hand on Sebastian’s thigh. His hard, muscular thigh, hot beneath the light wool of his slacks. He’d already removed his jacket, and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing those rippling forearms that had taken up residence in too many of Beau’s fantasies already.

He swallowed hard. But didn’t move his hand either.

“I think you do,” Sebastian said lowly.

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’s published twenty-three novels and seven novellas.

Author Links

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Blog Tour + Giveaway: Restrained Desires by Kathrine McIntyre


Author Kathrine McIntyre and Other Worlds Ink host today's blog tour stop for romance, Restrained Desires! Find out more the fake partner romance and enter in the $10 Amazon gift card giveaway!

Restrained Desires

Katherine McIntyre has a new FF contemporary romance out: Restrained Desires.

One rule: don’t fall for your best friend’s straight sister. Especially not when she’s pretending to be your fake girlfriend.

Chelsea Moore is officially divorced from her asshole husband, and after wasting her early twenties putting up with his shit, she’s burning to get out there and play the field—especially a certain kinkier side he made her feel like garbage about.

Kyle Walker’s terrified to put herself out there. According to her mother, she doesn’t have the looks to hook anyone, but what makes it worse is that her dating history falls in line. However, when her family tries to claim she’s not really a lesbian, she tells them she’s bringing her girlfriend to Christmas. Only problem? She doesn’t have one.

In comes sexy, newly divorced, and straight Chelsea Moore to the rescue—her best friend Aubrey’s little sister. She’s doing Kyle a favor—like any friend would—except Kyle’s half in love with her from the moment they start hanging out. All too soon those lines begin to blur—lingering touches, flirting, kissing…. And when they connect on kink and begin hooking up, that’s when Kyle knows she’s screwed.

Chelsea might have Aubrey to protect her heart, but Kyle could lose both her best friend and the only woman who’s made her feel like she's worth more.

Amazon | Universal Buy Link | Goodreads


Giveaway

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Excerpt

Restrained Desires Meme

“So, care to explain how I ended up here?” Chelsea asked, leaning against the counter. “Everything got a bit hazy after I jumped onstage to do amateur burlesque.”

Kyle ducked her head, the blush lighting up her cheeks. “Yeah, no one managed to top your performance.” The tension in the air between them thickened, and Chelsea cocked her head in curiosity. Before she could ask anything, Kyle continued. “Then we all proceeded to drink. A lot. And when Aubs was ready to ship you home, you told her if you got in a car you’d hurl. Then you explained that we were having a sleepover, since I lived right up the street.”

Chelsea snorted. “Yeah, sounds about right. I’m sure my sister went apoplectic.”

“I got a stern talking to, but that was about it,” Kyle said, bringing the laden plates over to the small two-seater stationed in her kitchen. “And then I got you into the bed, and I took the couch.”

Christ, this woman. She’d never met someone as genuinely caring as Ky, and she wouldn’t again. Her brows drew together. “Wait, why’d you get the talking to?”

Kyle arched a brow, a blush spreading to her entire face. “Because we’re both single women, and she seemed to think I’d try to jump you in the middle of the night or convert you to the gay.”

“That ever-contagious gay.” Chelsea rolled her eyes. “Aubrey’s one to talk. Besides, I’d way rather wake up in bed next to you than half of the guys at the bar last night.”

Until the words escaped her mouth, she didn’t realize how suggestive they sounded. Right, that was going to go over great, flaunting herself in front of her sister’s best friend. Not like the woman wasn’t hot as fuck, especially all relaxed like this in her own environment. Kyle glanced away, letting out a slow breath. Chelsea’s heart sped a little faster, probably from the coffee kicking in.

“Better dive into breakfast before it gets cold,” Ky muttered, as if she wasn’t trying to divert the conversation. “Cold eggs just taste like scrambled rubber.”

Chels snagged a slice of bacon and began to chew, enjoying the salty flavors exploding on her tongue. When she added the buttered toast to the mix, she almost let out a groan. Breakfast might be simple to fix up, but this was cooked to perfection. The yolk of the sunny-side up eggs split, running across her plate, and she dipped the pieces of toast into it. The breakfast and coffee started to invigorate her, as if she wasn’t roadkill in the wake of bad decisions.

Still, she refused to count her divorce as one. Marrying Noah, yes, that had been a grievous error on her part, but leaving him had been her best choice, even if Dad had been disgruntled about the whole thing the past few months.

“Did you have fun last night?” Chelsea asked, curious to have some of the blanks filled in. The outing had been necessary, a chance for her to let loose and declare her freedom to the world. “Sorry if me crashing here vag-blocked you or anything.” She scratched her wild waves, more than aware she looked like a train wreck right now.

“Please. Me?” Ky responded, shaking her head. “Do I look like the type who’s bringing home girls every night? Maybe like the type who owns a thousand dogs, but I don’t play the field like that. I had a blast, mostly because you were so trashed it kept Aubs and Sky from trying to hook me up with any single lady they found at the bar.”

“What would be so bad about that?” Chelsea asked, taking a sip of her black coffee. She’d known Kyle for years but never got a chance to talk with her one-on-one like this.

“If we could skip past the awkward introductions where I say something horrifying, nothing. But I’m the least charming person in the tristate area, and I’ve scared more women away in the first five minutes than I can count.”

“No fucking way,” Chels said, shaking her head. She took a minute to wipe under her eyes, realizing her makeup probably streaked everywhere. “Sorry, I didn’t even look in the mirror. I probably look horrible.”

Kyle shook her head. “Nah, you’re gorgeous.” Her voice was so soft when she said those words in an earnest tone that made Chelsea melt.

“Wait, you’re telling me women walk away from this?” she asked, circling her finger around as she pointed at Kyle. “Between the genuine grin of yours that would make hardened criminals weak in the knees and the way you put the people around you at ease, you’re a freaking catch.”

“I’m going to hope the earth swallows me up in the next five seconds so I don’t die from embarrassment,” Kyle said, taking a bite from her bacon all while avoiding Chelsea’s eyes.

Kyle’s tendency to dodge compliments and downplay herself never struck her before, but while talking one-on-one like this, she noticed immediately.

Kyle swallowed her bacon and glanced back up. “Most women don’t seem to agree. Whenever I meet someone new, rational conversation escapes my brain, and I end up telling them they’ve got great sternocleidomastoid muscles or ask if free will is real or just an illusion.”

Chelsea pursed her lips. Disbelief coursed through her. How had no one found those questions charming? Everything about Kyle Walker was endearingly cute. Maybe her sister had the right idea after all. After Noah, the idea of hopping into bed with another guy made her gut roil.


Author Bio

Katherine McIntyre

Katherine McIntyre is a feisty chick with a big attitude despite her short stature. She writes stories featuring snarky women, ragtag crews, and men with bad attitudes—and there's an equally high chance for a passionate speech thrown into the mix. As an eternal geek and tomboy who’s always stepped to her own beat, she’s made it her mission to write stories that represent the broad spectrum of people out there, from different cultures and races to all varieties of men and women.

Author Website: http://www.katherine-mcintyre.com

Author Facebook (Author Page): http://www.facebook.com/kmcintyreauthor

Author Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/pixierants

Author Instagram: http://www.instagram.com/authorkmcintyre

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6473654.Katherine_McIntyre

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Katherine-McIntyre/e/B00J8U4VNU

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Bedside Manners (Living Situations #2) by Ella Fenn


Author Ella Fenn and Gay Book Promotions promote new forced proximity romance release, Bedside Manners (Living Situations #2)! Read more and enter in the giveaway for a chance to win one of 5 signed copies of Bedside Manners (for US residents only) or ebooks for non-US residents!

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Bedside Manners (Living Situations Book 2)

Author and Publisher: Ella Fenn

Cover Artist: Mayhem Cover Creations

Release Date: May 10, 2022

Genre: Contemporary M/M romance

Tropes: Age gap, hurt/comfort, BDSM, hot mountain man, forced proximity

Themes: Healing trauma, second chances, coming of age

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 88 000 words 

It is the second book in the series, so characters from book 1 do show up in it, but the reader doesn’t need to know their story to read this one. 

The book does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads 

Buy Links Available in Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

A freak windstorm. A life-changing accident. An unlikely helping hand. 

Blurb

A freak windstorm. A life-changing accident. An unlikely helping hand. 

After years spent suffering under the weight of his father’s expectations, Max Castillo-Grant is celebrating his shiny new law degree by drinking, partying, and bed-hopping around Seattle. Max isn’t stupid—he knows the good times never last—but if the world’s going to bring him low, he might as well enjoy the high. 

Six years ago, a broken heart and a deep loss turned Ben Greer bitter and reclusive. Formerly the life of the party, he quit his job, rejected his friends, and hid from the world. Now, he spends his days alone, working on occasional custom carpentry commissions, with only his dog, Judith, for company.

Two severe weather events conspire to leave Ben in need of a full-time caretaker for his injuries, and Max in need of a respectable job. Despite a rocky start, Ben is begrudgingly won over by Max’s good humor, and the two form a lasting connection. But emotional wounds leave deep scars, and both Ben and Max are damaged. Can they find a way to heal hurts that go far beyond the physical before it’s too late?  

The second book in the Living Situations series, Bedside Manners is a gay romance featuring an age gap, BDSM, and 4-6 terrible puns about woodworking. If you like steamy situations, hurt/comfort, and grumpy mountain men, then you’ll love Ella Fenn’s latest novel.

Pick up Bedside Manners and let Ben and Max sweep you off your feet today! 

Excerpt 

Ben woke to the disconcerting sensation of a tongue between his toes. He sat up, yanking his foot away, and faced down the wet-mouthed perpetrator.

Judith sat back on her haunches and grinned, her tongue lolling from her lips as she stared at him with brown eyes that radiated canine intelligence. She was smart enough to know how to get Ben out of bed, at any rate. 

“Menace,” Ben said, scowling as he scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Delinquent. I oughta take you back to the pound.”

Judith gave an impatient yap, her shaggy tail thumping against the hardwood. Ben glanced at the clock and yawned. “All right, all right. I’m coming.” 

He rose, ignoring the way his knees popped and his neck twinged—forty-five was forty-five—then dressed in his standard flannel and jeans then navigated the maze of boxes that lay between him and the stairs. eBay purchases, mostly, things he’d intended to refurbish and sell but never quite got around to dealing with. 

Judith led the way downstairs to Ben’s well-stocked kitchen, where he poured a bowl of kibble for her and got coffee brewing for himself before flipping on the radio.

“We’ve got a windstorm advisory for Seattle. It’s gonna be a nasty one out there, folks, so if you’re planning on hiking, maybe reconsider,” the announcer said as she detailed the day’s weather. A quick glance out the kitchen windows confirmed her words. The tall pines surrounding Ben’s isolated property were bending under the wind’s assault. 

“Guess we’re staying in the shop today,” he said, more to himself than to Judith, who was still preoccupied with her food.

Not that staying in was a problem—Ben had been doing it every day for the better part of five years. There was plenty of gas in the generator and food in the fridge, so even if the wind blew the power down (which it had been known to do on occasion), he and Jude could stay tucked up and safe for a good long while. Not forever, but… well, forever would be the dream, with unlimited supplies appearing as if by magic. 

“Come on, little girl,” he said, patting her head. “You wanna get to work?”

That got her tail wagging, and Ben grinned. He felt the same way about the workshop, that welcoming cocoon of sawdust and wood awaiting them across the drive. Originally, it had been a two-car garage with a mother-in-law suite overhead, but he’d converted the space into his workshop when he bought the place, putting up a carport between the buildings to link them. The shop was his sanctum sanctorum, full of tools he’d inherited from his father and some shiny new toys he’d purchased to make it perfect. 

Judith bounded ahead, eager to get to her favorite place—favorite bed, favorite toys, favorite box of treats—and Ben followed, cupping one hand over the top of his mug, the scalding splashes barely registering against the worn calluses he’d built up over the years. No more than half the coffee remained by the time he made it to the workshop and opened the side door. Judith, true to form, was already curled up in her bed, the doggy door Ben had installed years before having allowed her ease of access. 

“Shit,” he said, leaning against the heavy wooden door with a laugh. “That’s some gale, huh, Dorothy?”

Judith didn’t get the joke. Humor was wasted on canines. Harrumphing, Ben went to his desk, set his coffee between two precarious-looking piles of papers, and picked up the leatherbound sketchbook he’d need to continue work on his latest commission of six dining chairs. 

Notebook tucked into his back pocket, he went to his wood rack, selected a sheet of oak, and eased it out. He whistled along with the wind as he brought the wood to the table saw that dominated the corner nearest the rack. An ancient relic, the saw had been his father’s, carefully packed and shipped from Montana after the old man had died a few years prior. 

Ben flipped the switch that powered the table then got to it, carefully cutting the slab of oak down to size. It was rote work, peaceful in its way, and he lost himself in the rhythm, heedless of the screaming wind outside… until there came a bang on the roof so loud it made him jump. That was a mistake, since he’d been damn close to the blade. The torque of the motor kept chewing through the wood, and when it got to Ben’s forearm, the saw chewed through that too. 

About the Author 

Ella Fenn is a romance author best known for telling tawdry tales tinged with a little something sweet.

Author of the Living Situations series, Ella wakes at the crack of dawn each day and spends a few hours tapping at the keyboard before beginning her 9-5 job in marketing and communications. 

Using her bachelor’s in journalism and a master’s in organizational behavior, Ella enjoys diving deep into the unique traits and tricks that make her characters tick. She believes everyone has a story to tell, and loves to engage with readers, whether it’s answering questions or discussing the nitty-gritty of her process. 

Social Media Links

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Giveaway

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win 

one of 5 signed copies of Bedside Manners (for US residents only) or ebooks for non-US residents.

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Kelpie's Claiming (Fairview Chronicles #10) by Alexa Piper


 

Author Alexa Piper and IndiGo Marketing share new paranomal thriller, Kelpie's Claiming (Fairview Chronicles #10)! Read more from the latest fantasy romantic suspense and enter in the Changeling Press credit giveaway!

Title: Kelpie's Claiming

Series: Fairview Chronicles 10

Author: Alexa Piper

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC

Release Date: May 13, 2022

Heat Level: 4 - Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 147 pages

Genre: Romance, Mystery, Thriller/Suspense, Paranormal Romance, Action Adventure, Dark Fantasy, Alternate Universe, Shapeshifters

Add to Goodreads


Synopsis

Rob’s current goal in life? Do not eat people. That’s easier said than done when you’re a kelpie in the service industry. While Rob pursues his goals from behind the bar, a stranger walks in, and Rob catches the man’s scent. Yet, patrons are not for eating, and it should have ended there… except when Rob smells that delicious scent again, the beautiful stranger needs help.

Bertrand wants to fit in, but because he’s part Fae, part Elf, and grew up human, he’s not really at home in either human or supernatural society. Still, he likes being a reporter and following a story all the way to its conclusion. The story he’s pursuing when he walks into Rob’s bar one night is one of supernaturals going missing, and Bertrand seems to be the only one who cares.

Meeting Bertrand might just shift Rob’s life goals. Coming face-to-face with a kelpie stallion might be enough to help Bertrand see where he fits in perfectly. Except Bertrand doesn’t really know what to make of Rob, and also, Bertrand's missing persons story is bigger than even he envisioned. It’s turning into a case of abduction and trafficking he needs to unravel before he can even think about Rob’s advances. The story will lead Bertrand to some dark places before the year is out.

Excerpt

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2022 Alexa Piper

Rob

In his more philanthropic youth, Rob had been excited about opening a bar-slash-diner and making a name for his establishment. He had succeeded with the Ragdoll, which was known for amazing sandwiches and exquisite liquor concoctions in supernatural circles and human circles alike. Going fully vegetarian had been the logical choice for Rob when he’d moved to the city of Fairview.

Now, he had over twenty years in the service industry under his belt, and the occasional slice of liver sounded so appealing when Rob had to cling on to his smile for all he was worth in front of a customer. It was why he’d hired a half-succubus and sexy Ilya whatever-he-was to handle the personal interactions.

(Rob was convinced Ilya could have, if he’d ever shown the inclination, charmed the pants off a barstool if barstools wore pants.) But now, with Ilya in love with a disgustingly rich witch and consequently out of town for whatever spell the Fey had planned to put on Rob’s most beloved employee, Rob had to pick up the slack behind the bar. And Ilya’s brother was not a suitable replacement, even if he was responding well to getting trained for the job.

“There is not enough rum in this,” the customer told Rob again, and Rob was pulled from his musings and back to wishing for a slice of liver.

“I’m ever so sorry,” Rob said without conviction. He looked up from the lime he was about to dismember on his cutting board behind the bar and glanced over the customer’s shoulder at Titi. The busboy was taking down the Fat Man Day decorations and prepping the Ragdoll for Sparklers and Public Drunkenness Day. There would be even more early drinkers here on Sparklers and Public Drunkenness Day, and Rob would have to be behind the bar, because sweet Ilya was getting bewitched.

“So are you gonna make me a new one?” the customer asked. Apparently, the red-faced man in his thirties with a beer belly threatening already was still there. At three in the afternoon. To consume rum cocktails. Not that Rob was the judgy type.

Rob had no intention of making another Mai Tai. He took a step to his right, located the dark rum, and poured the customer another finger of the liquor into his glass. “There you go,” Rob said, giving the man his best take it or leave it look.

The man looked from Rob to the cocktail, back again, and took it. He was complaining under his breath as he moved back to the table he’d occupied with two equally annoying male companions. The beer bellies were imminent in all of them, in Rob’s opinion. Sadly, that meant their livers would be fatty rather than yummy.

“Sorry,” Ilya’s brother said. Rob looked over to the man, who wore a black button-down shirt and jeans, but not as well as Ilya. He didn’t look half as sexy as Ilya. Rob still could not understand how that worked, how they were related. Ilya was a mysterious pale-skinned and raven-haired delight (who could easily handle over-drunk patrons with his charm). Kyle was plain dishwater blond. It made no sense, apart from being unfair to Rob, who would have loved nothing better than two Ilyas behind his bar.

“It’s fine,” Rob said. “The drink wasn’t the issue.”

Kyle narrowed his eyes and looked at the floor. “Okay.”

Rob frowned. Kyle was an odd one, but he followed direction perfectly. The real downside was simply that he wasn’t the sexy barman his brother was.

“Really, it’s okay. Some people just need to be assholes, and there is nothing you can do about that.” He patted Kyle on the shoulder. Kyle jerked a little at the contact before he relaxed.

Rob felt that was enough life advice, so he went back to murdering the lime. About five seconds later, the door opened, and on a breeze of cold air, the local mage and one of her lovers drifted into the bar. This lover (the nice one) was slightly too chatty for Rob’s taste, but judging by the time, the two of them were just here for a late lunch or coffee and something sweet. (This time, Rob hoped they wouldn’t have their… dessert in the ladies’ room. Rob wasn’t a prude by any means, he just disliked cleaning a bathroom after people spent time on their knees in there for whatever reason, and it was extra work, even if Kyle happily volunteered each time.)

Predictably, after the mage -- in conversation with the nice lover -- waved hello at Rob and Kyle, who seemed like he wanted to hide under the bar at seeing her, they made for a table rather than the bar. Rob knew Ilya, and possibly the Fey witch, had gotten the mage to become a regular, and it made Rob miss his night bartender all the more.

Kyle sidled up close to Rob. “Uhm, do you want me to serve them?” he asked quietly.

Rob put his knife down. This lime was getting lucky, for now. “I can do it. I don’t think she bites, and that lover definitely doesn’t.”

Purchase

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Meet the Author

Alexa Piper writes steamy romance that ranges from light to dark, from straight to queer. She’s also a coffee addict. Alexa loves writing stories that make her readers laugh and fall in love with the characters in them. Connect with Alexa on Facebook or Instagram, follow her on Twitter or TikTok, and subscribe to her newsletter!

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | BookBub

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