Tag Team Review: Kneading You by C.S. Poe

Christopher Hughes is new to the small New England town of Lancaster, New Hampshire. He’s been hired to save an old library from closing, but his obstacles include not only fighting for state funding, but a Selectman who wants to tear the building down in favor of a shopping center. Christopher meets Miles Sakasai, a charming tattooed repairman hired to help restore the historical interior. Working in close proximity has both men falling hard for each other, and also provides Christopher an opportunity to learn about Miles’s passion for baking. As it turns out, Miles’s skills in the kitchen may end up being the key to saving the library—but only if his bread can rise to the occasion.

v. 1.0, previously published by Dreamspinner Press in the Simmer anthology, 2016. No new content added.

We agree on all the things!

* A Reader Obsessed * - 4 Hearts

Co-Review with Ann! Now I’ve yet to read a full length novel from Ms. Poe, but this being my 6th short from her, I can honestly say that none have disappointed and that’s pretty high praise because shorts are fickle and can go either way.

Set in Lancaster, New Hampshire, and having not initially realized that this is also the setting of Joy and Color of You, have no fears regarding continuity sake as this was the first to be published in the Simmer Anthology (but in all honesty I feel these can be read as standalones).

Christopher is new to town, and he desperately needs a job so he can stay. Thus, when he gets the opportunity to revamp the old library, he feels this is his chance to solidify his usefulness to the community. When local handyman Miles, helps him fix up the dilapidated library, Christopher can’t resist being wooed by the reticent man’s steady presence, as well as his phenomenal baking skills. Can you blame him??

This was a quaint look at small town life with great MC’s to root for, and I loved how these two flirted and how easily they came together. When an opportunity arises to help save the library, the win was oh so satisfying!

Overall, as with all good shorts, this wasn’t close to being long enough, leaving me wanting more of Christopher and Miles’s happy ending!


Ann - 4 Hearts


Some authors just know how to pen a short story and C.S. Poe is one of those authors. She can build an entire environment, introduce characters with depth and create a tale that makes me believe two people can fall in love in 40 pages.

I was all for Christopher and his mission to save the small library in the little New England town he relocated to. I had to admire his love for this new place and his desire to belong and make a difference there. Who doesn’t love a man who wants to save a library? But his reasoning was so pure and altruistic I fell for him harder than your average bear.

Miles is a gem and while what I know of him is much less than what I know of Christopher, I enjoyed every bit of page time he got. He’s a strong, quiet man with a serious talent for bread making. When Miles and Christopher had their dinner together it was probably the best first date I’ve read in a long time and it’s what made me believe in the budding relationship between the two.

I absolutely loved the romance in Kneading You, but just as wonderful to me was the link between the library and the locals. The author built a relationship there that was so sweet to read and I wanted to move to a small New England town and champion a library myself.

The story is told from Christopher’s POV and the only thing I would ask for is more Miles. I wanted to know him as much as I knew Christopher and while there was absolutely nothing lacking in the story, I just liked him so much I wanted more.

** a copy of this story was provided for an honest review**

Blog Tour + Giveaway: Serpent's Teardrop (Blackwood Pack #7) by Mary Rundle

Author Mary Rundle and Other Worlds Ink visit on the Serpent's Teardrop (Blackwood Pack #7) blog tour! Learn more about the latest addition to the popular paranormal series and enter in the $20 Amazon gift card giveaway!

Mary Rundle has a new MM paranormal book out: Serpent's Teardrop.

The Blackwood Pack saga continues…

This is part of an on-going series by Amazon Bestselling Author, Mary Rundle, and catching up on previous titles is advised. Readers of the past books will enjoy meeting old friends once more as the pack does what it does best ̶ caring for one another and helping shifters everywhere.

Brian, a.k.a. “The Loch Ness Monster” has searched for his Fated Mate in vain for more than 600 years until he scents Reif in the frigid waters of the lake. But his mate seems to be purposely eluding him, so Brian turns to the Shaman of the Blackwood Pack to help find him.

Reif, one of a line of ancient shifters thought to be extinct is drawn to Brian but must focus on completing a mission to free his enslaved people from the clutches of an evil group. Despite his powerful attraction to Brian, he hides from him, believing it’s the only choice he has.

That changes when Reif surreptitiously kisses Brian while he’s sleeping, setting off a chain of events that puts both of them in mortal danger, and the powerful Blackwood pack resolves to help them stave off the wrath of vampires and witches.

Along the way, both Brian and Reif learn some hard lessons about the mutual trust necessary to achieve the happiness and fulfillment both have sought for hundreds of years.

A heartbreaking confession, an action-packed rescue, a riveting courtroom battle and many unexpected twists and turns make this passionate love story by Mary Rundle impossible to put down once you’ve read the first page.

Series Blurb:

Join the journey of the Blackwood Pack, seven brothers who are gay wolf shifters in search of their fated mates – stories about love at first sight with twists and turns, angst and humor, romance and adventure. Each book has two main characters who meet, fall in love, mate and achieve an HEA but the stories also chronicle the continuing saga of the Blackwood Pack. The series is best appreciated by reading the books in order.


Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CAN | Amazon AUS | Amazon GMY | QueeRomance Ink | Goodreads

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Giveaway

Mary is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour. Enter via Rafflecopter:

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Excerpt

After brunch was over, Logan asked, “Brian, what can we do for you?”

“Macushla! Nothere. C’mon everyone, let’s talk in the living room,” Kieran said, as he got up. “There’s a lot to discuss.”

Brian chuckled to himself as everyone quickly rose and followed the Shaman; no matter how big these wolves were, it was apparent they weren’t going to disagree with him. Taking a seat near Logan, Brian waited until he received a nod before beginning. “I have an intruder in my loch and I need help findin’ it. I have been lookin’ for him since I scented him the day I took the laddies out on my boat, but canna find him.”

“You use ‘it’ and ‘him’. Why?” asked Logan.

“Because I dinna know what the intruder is,” Brian answered. “Only that it can shift so it can dive deep to the bottom of the loch and then shift back when it’s on land.”

“Do you know what form it has in the water?” asked Slate.

“Naw, I’ve never seen it…only scented it in the water,” Brian replied.

“What about when it’s on land?” asked Zane.

“Naw…I can only find the place where it leaves the water because its scent ends there,” Brian said.

“Does it have the same scent on land as in the water?” asked Colton.

“I dinna know. There’s nae a scent on land…at least none that I found,” Brian said.

“Huh! Have you seen it when it’s on land?” asked Kieran.

“Naw, Shaman, I’ve never seen it on land. I can feel its presence but nae anythin’ else,” Brian replied. “I think he becomes invisible on land.”

“That wouldn’t hide his scent,” Colton said.

“Maybe it has an anti-scent spell like we do,” suggested Zane.

“What spell are you talking about, lover? You smell pretty good to me,” David said with a smile.

“Are you sure? I mean Mystia put one on each of us so our uncle and his goons wouldn’t be able to find us,” said Zane.

“David can smell you,” Kieran said, “because the gods made sure he couldn’t be affected by anything, including witches’ spells, which is why Mystia’s anti-scent spell doesn’t work on him. Your scent is still hidden from everyone else, unless you had her remove it.”

“Good to know that, babe,” Zane grinned at his mate. “One less thing to worry about.”

“So why doesn’t the intruder have a scent? Could it have a spell preventing Brian from picking it up?” asked Dakota.

Pausing a moment to listen to his spirit, Kieran answered, “No, there isn’t a spell but my spirit doesn’t know what’s concealing it.”

“What about footprints? Did you find any at the location where it left the loch?” asked Slate.

Shaking his head in frustration, Brian said, “Naw, nae a one. I dinna know how that can happen.”

Laying a hand on Brian, Kieran sent him some love as he asked, “Why don’t you tell us everything starting with the day you took me and my friends out on the loch?”

Recalling that day, Brian’s cock hardened instantly at the memory of the delicious scent washing over his body as he floated on his back in the loch. Now, squirming in his seat, hoping to hide his erection, Brian groaned inwardly, closing his eyes, finally accepting what he’d been denying all along—the intruder was his Fated Mate. How can that be? I’m too auld to have one.

“Brian? Are you all right?” asked David.

Kieran caught Brian’s eye. “I already know about it. Will that make it easier for you to tell us.”

“Ye know it’s my Fated Mate?” Brian asked, in disbelief.

“Yes, my spirit told me,” replied Kieran. “So go ahead, I promise we’ll help you find him.”

“Him? Are you sure?” Brian asked.

“Yes,” Kieran said, softly.

Relieved to know that much at least, Brian began, “I was doing a back float when a passing boat’s wake carryin’ my mate’s scent washed over me. Shifting, I dove down, searching for it, but twas weak and quickly dissipated. That night, I searched again and the scent was stronger, but as I followed it, I realized twas at least an hour old. It led to the shoreline, where I shifted and climbed onto the bank, but there was nae a trace—even though I felt its presence.

“Every night, the same thing happened, even though I went into the water at different times—sometimes early, other times later, but twas always the same... except for last night,” Brian said. “After cruising the loch, I waited until the sky turned pink before I shifted and climbed aboard my boat. As I headed below, I felt someone watching me and I sensed my mate was somewhere near the marina’s buildings, but still I could nae see him.” Brian was getting agitated by this time, prompting Kieran to lay a calming hand on him. After a few moments of silence, the sea serpent continued.

“I decided to search the area lookin’ for a clue to help me figure out who he was, but could nae find anything. I know he was close by, because I again could feel his stare and sensed his presence,” Brian said, his frustration now evident. “Please Shaman, I need yer help. I dinna know why my mate is hidin’ from me, but I feel something is amiss and he needs me.”

“Of course we’ll help you won’t we,macushla?” Kieran asked, glancing at his mate.

“My mate’s right, Brian,” answered Logan. “Our Alpha regards you as a member of the Blackwood Pack so whatever needs to be done, we’ll do.”

After hearing a chorus of ‘absolutelys’ and ‘count-me-ins’, Brian felt his sea serpent relax, confident his mate would soon be found. “Thank ye, thank ye, I canna tell ye how much I appreciate it,” Brian said, with a sigh of relief.

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Author Bio

The first book I ever wrote was Dire Warning in 2017 and, much to my delight, it became an Amazon Best Seller. Readers loved it and I was on my way to chronicling the Blackwood Pack, seven brothers who are gay wolf shifters in search of their fated mates– stories about love at first sight with twists and turns, angst and humor, romance and adventure and, of course, happy endings.

Now, six books later, Ghost Walker, another Best Seller, has just been released to critical acclaim. I love the M/M paranormal genre because it gives my imagination a lot of territory in which to roam. My mind can really run wild and come up with some amazing stuff when it doesn’t have to stay inside the box

My readers tell me they feel like they’re a member of the pack as the stories unfold. As if they’re right there in the middle of the action. Others tell me it’s like watching a fast-paced movie. My writing style pulls no punches– readers love it and are always clamoring for the next book.

Stories come to me as if they were being channeled by my characters, all of whom I love (except for a few villains). They are eager to recount their lives, loves and adventures and are not inhibited when it comes to revealing steamy details.

I currently live in the Northeast and love the beautiful change of seasons, my husband, and our quirky calico cat, though not necessarily in that order. I’m always happy to hear from my readers and can be reached through Facebook, Twitter, MeWe, or my website.

Author Website: http://www.maryrundle.com
Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/maryrundle69
Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/maryrundleauthor
Author Twitter: https://twitter.com/MaryRundle69
Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/maryrundle69
Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14246427.Mary_Rundle
Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/mary-rundle/
Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Mary-Rundle/e/B0763CDQQ6

Giveaway + Release Blitz: How to Run with the Wolves (Howl at the Moon #5) by Eli Easton

Welcome Eli Easton and Signal Boost Promotions who are here to celebrate the release of the fifth in the popular Howl at the Moon series, How to Run with the Wolves! Find out more about this paranormal romance, read an excerpt and enter in the giveaway for a $25 Amazon gift card too! Good luck!

See our 5 ❤️ review here.

Buy Links: Amazon US | Amazon UK | Universal Link - Exclusive to Amazon and Available to Borrow with Kindle Unlimited

Cover Design: Reese Dante


Howl At The Moon Series


How To Howl At The Moon (Book #1) Amazon US | Amazon UK

How To Walk Like A Man (Book #2) Amazon US | Amazon UK

How To Wish Upon A Star (Book #3) Amazon US | Amazon UK

How To Save A Life (Book #4) - Amazon US | Amazon UK

Blurb 

Zeus loves his job on the Mad Creek Search & Rescue team, and his inner Saint Bernard is finally being used to his full potential. When he sees a mysterious and wild-looking quickened—a dog shifter—at an earthquake site in Alaska, Zeus is compelled to investigate. Zeus falls hard for the primal beauty of Timo and of Alaska itself. Both call to his deep canine soul. But the Qimmig pack’s laws are as harsh as the Alaskan winters, and Timo is out of his reach.

Timo’s pack of dog shifters left their Inuit village generations ago and have lived wild ever since. Not trusting the “one-skinned,” and with their numbers dwindling, the Qimmig are on the verge of extinction. Timo is shocked to discover a whole group of “two-skinned” working as a rescue team, and he is particularly fascinated by Zeus, a gentle giant. He senses what Zeus feels for him… but it’s forbidden.

Can Mad Creek save this lost quickened clan? Perhaps—if they can learn how to run with the wolves.

Exclusive Excerpt

Chapter 1 - Fault Line

August

Anchorage, Alaska

Zeus


“All right, guys. Remember: stay in your section and stay with your partner. No matter what. And make sure your radios are on so I can contact you. Check them. Are they on right now?”


Zeus knew his radio was on, but he obeyed Matt and checked it anyway, as did the other eight quickened in the Mad Creek Search and Rescue team. Yup, the red light was illuminated.


“Mine is on!” Sammy called out with barely suppressed excitement. Other voices rang out too. The team was eager to get moving, Zeus included. His skin itched with the need to run, sniff, find.


But their team commander, Matt, didn’t release them just yet. He had his hands on his hips and was giving them all a stern look. His glower was all for show, Zeus knew. You could see the pride behind it, wanting to break out. Matt was a good leader. He was a full-blooded human, so he was less likely to get distracted by the job than the rest of them, and he knew just how to coordinate with the other human relief crews at a disaster site. And if people thought the Mad Creek group was weird, Matt dealt with it somehow, keeping the secret of the quickened, well, secret.


“All right, team.” Matt clapped Sammy on the back. “Go save some lives!”


They scattered, everyone running. They looked like orange confetti, Zeus thought, with everyone wearing the Search and Rescue uniform—heavy neon orange canvas pants, orange T-shirts, black heavy-duty hiking boots, and small gray vest and packs with first aid gear and tools. Blood pumped hard in Zeus’s veins. Since joining Mad Creek Search and Rescue, Zeus and the team had been deployed three times, once to a flood and twice to help with wildfires. And even in his brief stint with the group, Zeus had found a sense of purpose and usefulness he’d never felt before.


He was born for this! And it felt incredible to let that part of him operate to its potential.


Zeus and his partner, Sammy, headed into the section Matt had assigned them. From their command post in Delaney Park, they ran north on G Street. They had the area from 3rd to 9th streets to the north and south and H to C streets west to east. Some of the street signs were down or hidden in rubble, but Zeus could still see the map in his mind, and he knew where to go.


The 7.5 earthquake had hit near Anchorage eight hours ago. It had struck just after nine in the morning when the downtown buildings and streets had been full of people. Since then, the city had been rocked by several large aftershocks. Roads were cracked and split apart, becoming stairsteps. Shattered glass was everywhere from windows that exploded under the pressure of buckling walls. Rubble made haphazard mounds that spilled into the street. Tall brick buildings had gaping holes that looked like missing teeth, and a couple had lost their heads entirely. The landscape was uneven, a building here and there in ruins while others stood tall and straight, unaffected or missing only a few panes of glass. And there were so many smells! There were dangerous smells like oil and smoke and sad ones like blood and fear and even death.


For a moment, Zeus hesitated, looking down G Street. Where to start? He wanted to go everywhere at once. A loud siren pierced the air, hurting Zeus’s sensitive ears, but he was too focused on the job to care.


Sammy stepped up beside him and pointed to a field of rubble on the right between two taller buildings. Big cement slabs stuck up and jagged ends of rebar were exposed like broken bones. A triangular slab stood into front of the pile, one pointed end buried in the asphalt as if it were a memorial statue. “Look, Zeus! I bet that was a parking garage. And I bet people are trapped in there. Let’s see if we can help.”


“Okay!” Zeus agreed, and the two of them ran toward the rubble. His blood sang in his ears. Find them, find them, find them.


They scrambled over cement and dust. Zeus could smell people here, people trapped under the collapsed parking garage—one, two, at least four people. The scent drew a mind map in his head of where they were located, how deep, how far from him in 3D. He sniffed around and around, moving in a circle, skin thrumming, every sense on alert. Yes, here, and here, far down.


Zeus pointed and rattled off his finds, interpreting the scent-pictures for Sammy, giving him distances and head count. Sammy wrote numbers on the little flags, planted them where Zeus said, and relayed the news to Matt over the radio. There were two older people, a man and a woman together, probably in a car. There was blood with them, but not much, and their heartbeats were strong. They calm one another, Zeus thought, an idea that entered his head and flittered away again with so much to smell and others to help.


A short distance away, he found two bodies both ten feet down. Near them he detected the faint smell of old urine, like you might find in a stairwell. Face sad, Sammy set a black flag with a “2” written on it.


Zeus sniffed around the perimeter he’d set for himself, three times, four, to be sure he’d caught everything, that the little flags matched the map in his head.


Sammy signed off the radio call. “Matt’s gonna let the fire department know. They’ll bring the big machines. It’s so sad. The ones who are alive, are they scared? I bet they’re scared.” He took a crowbar from his tool belt and banged on a piece of rebar sticking from the cement near the yellow “2” flag. “We’re here! We’re here and we will come for you! Don’t be afraid!”


Don’t be afraid. The words echoed in Zeus’s head. Don’t be afraid.


“Oh, those poor people. I wish we could dig! I wish we could dig right now! Are you sure they’re too far down?” Sammy leaned down close to a flag to sniff and listen.


Zeus just grunted. He was sure.


He loved many things about the Mad Creek Search and Rescue team.


He loved that everyone on the team—except for team-leader Matt—was a quickened and thus had a dog’s keener sense of smell and hearing and doggie instincts.


He loved that his teammates had boundless energy and enthusiasm.


He loved their compassion and can-do attitudes. They never got cranky and they never complained. Zeus had been born quickened, but he’d worked with many humans over the years, so he appreciated those traits.


He loved the sense of pack he was developing with his S-and-R brothers and sisters. The Mad Creek Search and Rescue team was made up of Sammy, a young chocolate lab, Goldy, a pretty and bouncy golden retriever in her twenties, a middle-aged German shepherd named Bacon, a somber young bloodhound named Watson, and a tough pit bull named Lola Blue who was thick and stocky with a square face, small gold eyes, grayish brown skin, and short hair the same amazing shade of blue-gray as her dog fur. Georgia and Roscoe, both mixed breeds, rounded out the team. Matt was the only human in the group. All together there were nine of them.


In short, Zeus loved this job. If Mad Creek had become too crowded to take, the S-and-R crew was small enough for Zeus to bear. Even if he sometimes felt he would never really be one of the Mad Creek quickened.


Zeus continued, picking his way over the rubble, scrambling on his hands and feet when the way got rough. The heavy steel-toed boots on his big arched feet enabled him to step anywhere, testing each foot-place for stability before settling his considerable weight on it. Despite his large size, he felt light and nimble with the adrenaline coursing through his veins.


He had Sammy place several more yellow flags. And then….


“Here!” he told Sammy, huffing the rich scent. “There’s a man buried right here. We can get this one. He’s not far down at all.”


Sammy sniffed the ground, his face lighting up. “He’s alive.”


“He’s alive,” Zeus agreed. He went down on his knees and began to dig with both gloved hands.


A scree hill of gravel and powdered cement had landed here, next to a fallen piece of wall. Zeus’s hands were faster than his tools for small material like this, and his heavy gloves were nearly as good protection as the thick pads of his paws in his dog form. Sammy joined in, and the two of them scooped out the loose material and pulled away small chunks of cement and metal, finally clearing a hole under the piece of wall.


The hole was dark for a moment as the cloud of debris settled. Then fingers reached up. They were a man’s fingers, rough-hewn and covered with gray dust.


“Hello,” came a voice, then a cough. “H-hello? Are you there? Help me, please?” His voice had an accent Zeus had never heard before.


“Hello!” Sammy called out, his voice happy. “Yes, we’re here to help you. Are you hurt?”


More coughing. “Oh, thank fuck. I’ve felt better. I think I’m okay, but I would like to get out now.”


“We’ll get you out. Don’t worry!” Sammy enthused, while Zeus examined the situation. They had to be careful, because they didn’t want to cause the rubble to collapse. But the piece of wall on top of the hole felt stable when Zeus tested it. It wasn’t going anywhere. With some more digging—the man helped from inside with his bare hands—they managed to enlarge the hole. Sammy shone his light inside and they saw the man’s face. He was a young man, maybe in his twenties, and he had skin deeply tanned by the sun, eyes with a slight epicanthic fold, black hair covered in dust, and a lop-sided grin. Zeus thought he might be Inuit.


Sammy passed the man a bottle of water, and he unscrewed it and drank it thirstily, water making tracks in the dirt down his blue T-shirt.


Zeus sat back on his heels. The man was not badly hurt. He and Sammy could pull him out and send him on to the hospital. Then they could keep working. There was so much work to do. So many more to find! And hopefully they’d find more survivors, like this one, maybe even more they could dig out on their own. It was so satisfying to see them climb out of the earth like newborns, to know he had saved a life. Zeus would never tire of it in a million years.


As he waited for the man to finish drinking, Zeus’s gaze scanned ahead over the field of rubble. They could probably scramble over most of it and….


And that was when Zeus saw him.


About thirty feet away, standing on the flat roof of a small building, was a man.


The sun was behind him, his form outlined in the glowing light. He was average in height but taut and whip lean in faded, low-slung jeans, wide belt, and a short-sleeved T-shirt that was molded to his muscles. His brown hair gleamed red where it was struck by the sun and was incredibly thick, straight, and long, falling to his waist. Strands floated around him in the cold breeze. His eyes looked pale, though it was hard to tell from this distance.


Zeus sniffed, catching the barest tease of a new scent. It broke through the cloying, heavy aroma of dust and oil and smoke as though someone had opened a window in a stale house. The new scent was fresh, like the wind off a glacier, and there was something wild in it, too, wild and free, like deer or elk or… or…


Wolves?


Zeus couldn’t see the man’s face very well, backlit as he was, but something about him took Zeus’s breath away. His posture was agile and proud. And he was staring at Zeus. Right at him. His body was rigid, and Zeus could swear he was scenting him too.


Why the sight should strike him so deeply, Zeus didn’t know. But the man didn’t look like a rescue worker. He didn’t look like an office worker. He didn’t look like anything Zeus had ever seen before. He seemed to be a mirage, like something pulled up from the buried depths of Zeus’s own mind.


There was a grunt and a scramble next to him. Zeus turned to see the Inuit man dusting off his shirt.


“Are you okay?” he asked.


“You have blood on your pants,” Sammy said worriedly. “Is your leg hurt? You can lean on me.”


The man shook his leg and stomped his foot twice. “Nah, I’m good. Just a scratch.”


Zeus looked back to where he’d seen the strange man—but he was gone. There was nothing there now but an empty roof and the bright glare of the afternoon sun.


“Did you see him?” Zeus asked Sammy and the rescued man. He pointed at the roof. “There was a man. Right there.”


Sammy looked confused. “Huh? I didn’t see anyone, Zeus.”


But the dark-skinned man grimaced, his face knowing. “Qimmig,” he muttered.


“What?”


The man coughed, then wiped his mouth. “It’s a tribe. They’re around. They work on the big buildings. Construction, you know? Hey, thank you guys for finding me. My name’s Aput. You saved my life, dudes!”


Aput gave Sammy a hug, which Sammy was happy to reciprocate. Then Aput turned to Zeus, his arms held wide. Zeus wasn’t much of a hugger with strangers, but the man’s grin was infectious, so Zeus hugged him too.


“I have a wife and three little ones back in my village. They’ll want very much to thank you! Man, I thought I was going to die in there.” He wiped a hand across his sweaty brow, smearing dirt. And despite all his brave words, his hand was shaking.


Well, of course it was. It would be terrifying to be buried for—Zeus checked his watch—nearly seven hours since the earthquake struck.


“We’re so happy you’re alive!” said Sammy. “Are you sure you don’t need to sit down and rest?”


But Zeus was anxious to keep moving, anxious to find more people to help, maybe anxious to see that Qimmig again too. “There’s first aid and food and water at the convention center. Do you know how to get there?”


“Yeah, I do. Hey, where are you guys from?” He looked at Sammy curiously, then up at Zeus. “Not Alaskan, huh?”


“Nope, we’re from Mad Creek!” said Sammy proudly. “That’s in California. We’re the Mad Creek Search and Rescue.” Sammy turned around and pointed to his back where the name was printed in black on the bright orange T-shirt. “I’m Sammy and this is Zeus.”


“Well, Sammy and Zeus. I’ll look for you again. Okay?”


“Okay!” Sammy said. “Be careful walking to the first aid station. Watch out for glass! You wouldn’t want to fall on your ass. Ha ha.”


Man, Sammy’s jokes. Zeus didn’t find them funny, but in this case, he was pretty sure he wasn’t the only one. He moved ahead, shutting out everything but the rubble under his feet.

About Eli


Having been, at various times and under different names, a minister’s daughter, a computer programmer, a game designer, the author of paranormal mysteries, a fan fiction writer, and organic farmer, Eli has been a m/m romance author since 2013. She has over 30 books published.


Eli has loved romance since her teens and she particular admires writers who can combine literary merit, genuine humor, melting hotness, and eye-dabbing sweetness into one story. She promises to strive to achieve most of that most of the time. She currently lives on a farm in Pennsylvania with her husband, bulldogs, cows, a cat, and lots of groundhogs.


In romance, Eli is best known for her Christmas stories because she’s a total Christmas sap. These include “Blame it on the Mistletoe”, “Unwrapping Hank” and “Merry Christmas, Mr. Miggles”. Her “Howl at the Moon” series of paranormal romances featuring the town of Mad Creek and its dog shifters has been popular with readers. And her series of Amish-themed romances, Men of Lancaster County, has won genre awards.

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Review: How to Run with the Wolves (Howl at the Moon #5) by Eli Easton

Zeus loves his job on the new Mad Creek Search & Rescue team, and his inner Saint Bernard is finally being used to his full potential. When he sees a mysterious and wild-looking quickened—a dog shifter—at an earthquake site in Alaska, Zeus is compelled to investigate. Zeus falls hard for the primal beauty of Timo and of Alaska itself. Both call to his deep canine soul. But the Quimmiq pack’s laws are as harsh as the Alaskan winters, and Timo is out of his reach.

Timo’s pack of dog shifters left their Inuit village generations ago and have lived wild ever since. Not trusting the “one-skinned,” and with their numbers dwindling, the Quimmiq are on the verge of extinction. Timo is shocked to discover a whole group of “two-skinned” working as a rescue team, and he is particularly fascinated by Zeus, a gentle giant. He senses what Zeus feels for him… but it’s forbidden.

Can Mad Creek save this lost quickened clan? Perhaps—if they can learn how to run with the wolves.

PUPDORABLE!

I love this series so much but this one holds a special place in my heart.

Why, you ask?

Zeus!


Zeus is the classic gentle giant which appeals on multiple levels for me but what pulled on my heartstrings was how displaced he feels. He wants more than anything to be useful, but he oftentimes doesn't really get people and their vernacular which feeds into his feelings of being "different".

The underdogs always get to me and Zeus got to me.

But Timo is totes adorbz in his own rite. His mindset is VASTLY different from Zeus'. He's part of a pack that's been isolated in the wilds of Alaska for generations.

He's so mischievous and playful not just in his dog form either. His vivaciousness is infectious and he makes it difficult not to fall for him.

What I liked best about their relationship was how blind they both are to the way it's evolving. They're both independent and self-reliant so watching them slowly realize that they want to spend more time with each other warmed the cockles of my heart.

This is a prototypical slow burn romance with minimal sexy times which was fine by me! To have rushed would have rang of inauthenticity and I probably wouldn't have enjoyed watching them fall in love as much I did.

The voices of all the dogs/shifters in this series have been fantastic but the uniqueness of Zeus and Timo's voices was phenomenal. Never did I question whose head I was in and they both had me smiling throughout this read. Of course, I loved touching base with some of the previous Mad Creek couples. Milo is still sixteen different kinds of adorable.

Clearly, I loved this book to pieces and if you want a read that will make you want to hug it out with your kindle then you should give it a try. I hope we've not seen the last of Mad Creek but my heartfelt thanks to Ms. Easton for all the smiles these puppers have put on my face if it is. However, I'm excited as all get out about the spinoff series! Recommended!

An ARC was provided in exchange for an honest review.

Guest Review: Single (Single Dads #1) by R.J. Scott

Reeling from the painful rejection of a man he thought he loved, Asher is left holding the baby.

Ash wants a family, and is determined to continue with a surrogacy he’d begun with his ex. Bringing baby Mia home, he vows that he will be the best father he can be. Nothing in this world matters more to him than caring for his daughter, not even accidentally falling in lust with the doctor next door. Challenged by his growing attraction to Sean, and confronted by painful memories of his family, Ash has to learn that love is all that matters.

When ER doctor Sean moves in with his friends next door to sexy single father Ash, he falls so quickly it takes his breath away. The sex they have is hot, but Ash is adamant his heart is too full with love for his daughter to let anyone else in. Why is Sean the only one who sees how scared Ash is, and how can he prove to his new lover that he desperately wants the three of them to become a family?

Reviewer: Shee Reader

The story opens with Asher as a slightly neurotic, very well prepared but exhausted and panicky single new dad. He has a drunk neighbour throwing up in his front yard and waking that baby. Little did he know that the charming firefighter was drinking to forget the people he’d lost that day at work, and since he’d only just moved there, got his house muddled up with his own home.
Now, being a complete romance junkie, I did assume this was going to be the “meet-cute” but I was wrong! Eric, the big fireman shares his house with a cop (Leo) and a doctor, Sean, our hero.

Sean is just what Ash needs, but will they ever be in the same room with Ash awake and the baby safely asleep? Of course, this is romancelandia so yes is the answer! I was completely charmed by Sean tiding Asher’s kitchen and bringing round lovely food in an attempt to seduce the lonely dad.

Thus we see a gorgeous and sexy tale unfold with Asher finding his feet, and a HEA with our dashing ER doc. There is a rolling side issue with Asher’s mom which made me scowl, and his twin sister who I liked. The online support group for single gay dad’s was a lovely touch, and I look forward to hearing more about the guys in the rest of the series. All I really need now is the happily ever after stories for both Eric and Leo, both with lonely single dads I wonder??

Highly recommended.

I was given a free copy of the book in exchange for an honest review.

Release Blitz + Giveaway: Patron Of Mercy (Lords of the Underworld #3) by Sam Burns & W.M Fawkes

Authors Sam Burns and W.M. Fawkes, along with Signal Boost Promotions, visit to promote the latest, Patron Of Mercy (Lords of the Underworld #3)! Learn more about the urban fantasy and enter in the Patron of Mercy eBook giveaway today!

Buy Links: Amazon US | Amazon UK | Universal Link - Exclusive to Amazon and Available to Borrow with Kindle Unlimited


Length: 70,000 words approx.


Cover Design: Natasha Snow


Lords of the Underworld Series


Prince of Death - Amazon US | Amazon UK | Universal Link

Prisoner Of Shadows - Amazon US | Amazon UK | Universal Link


Blurb


Lach has spent the last few thousand years counting only on himself. What he needed, he took. What he wanted, he won with charm. All except a god he turned his back on an age ago, when he had a different name and didn’t know what he was giving up.


Thanatos, god of merciful death, is one of the gentlest gods in the pantheon—easing the transition between life and death for billions of mortals. But he has faced eternity alone. After breaking his heart on the sharp words of a fisherman’s son, he hasn’t been able to connect with anyone.


Now, Lach is crashing back into Thanatos’s life, dragging him into an adventure that could save the world . . . or kill them both.


PATRON OF MERCY IS THE THIRD BOOK IN A SERIES, BUT CAN BE READ AS A STAND ALONE NOVEL.

Sam Burns wrote her first fantasy epic with her best friend when she was ten. Like almost any epic fiction written by a ten year old, it was awful. She likes to think she’s improved since then, if only because she has better handwriting now.

If she’s not writing, she’s almost certainly either reading or lost down a Wikipedia rabbit hole while pretending to research for a novel.

Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Pinterest

W.M. Fawkes is an author of LGBTQ+ urban fantasy and paranormal romance. With coauthor Sam Burns, she writes feisty Greek gods, men, and monsters in the Lords of the Underworld series. She lives with her partner in a house owned by three halloween-hued felines that dabble regularly in shadow walking.


Website: https://www.fawkeswrites.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/fawkeswrites

Twitter: https://twitter.com/FawkesWrites

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Black Sky Morning (Mind + Machine #3) by Hanna Dare

Author Hanna Dare and Signal Boost Promotions promote the release of Black Sky Morning (Mind + Machine #3)! Learn more about the latest sci-fi romance and enter in the back list eBook giveaway!

Buy Links: Amazon US | Amazon UK | Universal Link - Exclusive to Amazon and Available to Borrow with Kindle Unlimited

Cover Design: Natasha Snow

Length: 74,000 words approx.

Mind + Machine Series

Book #1 - Machine Metal Magic - Amazon US | Amazon UK

Book #2 - The Wayward Prince - Amazon US | Amazon UK

Blurb 

A bounty hunter in over his head.


Xin knows how to look out for himself, and he knows when something sounds too good to be true. But a forgotten planet filled with riches is too tempting to pass up. Fortunately Xin also knows someone who can back him up - if he doesn't arrest Xin first.


A government agent who's lost hope.


Jonathan Gray used to believe in a better future. Now he's not so sure. Then Xin walks in, with his dark eyes and maddening smirk, and Jonathan feels like he's waking up for the first time in months. Well, parts of him at least. He knows Xin is trouble, but when trouble looks this good it's impossible to resist.


Two men. One dangerous planet. To survive they need to trust each other - too bad neither of them does trust.

A writer-for-hire for more than ten years, Hanna Dare now writes what she loves to read: well-written, character-driven stories of men exploring their identities and discovering their own unique kind of happily ever afters… usually through sexytimes.


Find Hanna on the internet enjoying pretty pictures, procrastination and caffeinated beverages!

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Love & Tea Bags (Pink Rock #1) by C.F. White

Love & Tea Bags (Pink Rock #1) is out from Pride Publishing! Author C.F. White and Signal Boost Promotions host today's release blitz to commemorate! Learn more about the first in a new series and enter in the giveaway to win your own Love & Tea Bags (Pink Rock #1) eBook copy!

Buy Links: Pride Publishing - To be released wide July 16

Cover Design: Erin Dameron-Hill

Length: 79,679 words

Publisher: Pride Publishing

Blurb

Fate can be written in a tea bag too.


Mark Johnson is hitting his forties and is stuck in a rut.


He's had the same boring office job for ten years, with no motivation or inclination to change it. The same crumbling house for ten years, with no cash or know-how to fix it. And the same Facebook status for five years—it's complicated. It isn't. He's single. He just doesn't want to correct it. That would be admitting defeat.


The day a tea bag splats onto his face whilst he’s emptying the dregs of his morning cuppa at Macy's Tea Shoppe is the one that makes him question each of his current life choices…the tea bag and that the shop is currently being run by one rather friendly, rather hunky, but rather young Australian named Bradley Summers.


Tea has never tasted so good.

Excerpt

The slurp was loud and rather obnoxious, especially when the man was sipping from one of Mark’s grandmother’s dainty china tea cups that Mark saved for special occasions. Since Mark hadn’t had any need for the guest china in quite some time, he’d let Grammy’s cardinal rule slide for the strapping workman clambering up in his loft.


“Yup, I see the problem,” the workman yelled down the open hatch in Mark’s landing ceiling that led to the over-cluttered store of stuff that Mark hadn’t set foot in for…well, quite some time.


Mark wished he hadn’t offered the man a brew. He really hadn’t had the time to wait for the kettle to boil, for a start. But he’d been brought up well, and one must offer one’s tradesmen a cuppa in the hope they’ll knock a few quid off the call-out charge. He suspected he would have to delve deep into his already ravine-like pockets, so anything that could be considered mates-rates would really help at this point in his life. Mark wished he did have mates. Ones that were handy, anyway.


“Oh, yes?” Mark called back, his voice echoing through the square hole in his ceiling. He closed his eyes, for some reason, as if that would soften the blow of what was going to come out of the man’s mouth next.


“Gonna need coupla new roof tiles, mate. A lotta this stuff is gonna get ruined.”


“Bugger,” Mark muttered into his own mug of piping-hot tea. Well, it was rude not to join the man in a beverage.


“What was that?” The man’s round, if somewhat flushed, face appeared at the hole.


“Nothing, nothing.” Mark shook his head. He didn’t much fancy repeating himself. The man might take it seriously and give him a whack. Or, which would be much worse, not take the job of fixing Mark’s leaking roof. “Thank you.” He smiled.


Mark had been told, on occasion, that he had quite a nice smile. One that relaxed people. Mark, however, believed it to be far more useful to allow people to walk all over him. Or pass by him. Through him…


With a grunt, the workman set his steel-toe-capped boots on two metal rungs of the ladder, revealing the tip of his rounded behind popping out of the elastic waistband that appeared to be failing in its one basic function. Normally, on an average Saturday night, Mark wouldn’t have minded the view, as his internet history would evidence. But today was a Monday and the man didn’t look like he would appreciate Mark’s ogling. Not that Mark was ogling. He just had nowhere else to look. Honest.


On reaching the landing, the workman crashed back into Mark. Stumbling, Mark gripped his cup with both hands to prevent the utter travesty of spillage onto the carpet. Not only did he not have time to clear up any stains—not that any would show on the swirling patterns of the seventies-design stitch work—but he also hated to waste a cup of the good stuff.


The workman hefted up his jogging bottoms, his hands empty of the china tea cup he had been avidly slurping from up in the loft. And that meant Mark would now either have to venture up into the space he avoided like the seaside lido on a May bank holiday afternoon, or leave it up there to breed new life. He knew which he would rather.


“Right.” The man scratched his stubbled chin. “See, you’re gonna need a coupla new tiles. Tha’s what the leak is. The rain we been ’avin is comin’ in frou ta ’ole in ya roof. Travelling daan the walls and dripping aaat ya ceiling.”


“Good-oh.” Mark nodded, not letting on for a single second that he had no idea what the man had just said. “Uh, can you fix it?” He mentally crossed his fingers in the hope that he hadn’t just said that he could. Or couldn’t.


“Yeah, no sweat. I can do two tiles at a ton.”


“A what now?”


“A ton.”


“A ton of what? Tiles?”


“No. A hundred smackers.”


Mark blanked, shaking his head.


“Paand?”


“Oh, I see. Well, that’s not too bad then.” Mark smiled. And phewed. Mentally.


“But that won’t fix ya problem.”


“Oh dear.” Mark furrowed his brow, which he didn’t like to do all that often as the lines weren’t smoothing out after so much anymore.


“Dunno which bleedin’ cowboy did ya roof last, but they didn’t felt it.” The man tucked a tiny pencil behind his ear. Where he’d got the pencil from was Mark’s first question. Quickly followed by, do I really want to know?


“That cowboy would be my grandfather.” Mark attempted to add a hint of pride to his voice, but the vacant expression of the workman before him just made him slink into a guilty, wincing admission. “He built the house.”


“Ah. Right. ’Nover ’and-me-down was it?”


“Hand-me-down?” More deep-set wrinkles formed on Mark’s brow. He must remember to use that skincare range for men he’d got as a Secret Santa present at work last year, the one that claimed to defy even the deepest-set wrinkles. He had a hunch who’d been bold enough to buy that for him. Bloody Yvonne.


The man waved, indicating Mark’s attire. “The clothes.”


Mark held out his arms, still clutching his mug of tea, and peered down at himself. Trusty grey corduroy trousers, wonderful and comfy, and rather warm considering the current climate, matched with a white button-down shirt. The vest underneath was simply due to the fact that his dark nipples tended to show through the thin material of cheap cotton. He’d discovered that tidbit of information back at secondary school when the popular boys used to poke his nipples through his school shirt, many twisting for added effect. And people say all-boy grammar schools are a safe haven from bullying.


Mark ran a hand through his thick dark hair, sliding it across his forehead in a floppy fringe, ignoring the jibe at his attire and moving on to the pressing transaction at hand. “So you were saying about the roof?”


“Yeah. Gonna need ta replace it.” The man sniffed, his chest rising with the inhale of breath, then shrugged. “Set ya back ’bout five grand.”


The fact that Mark had chosen the man’s pause to take a sip of tea probably summed up his entire existence. It had been, of course, the wrong decision. He spat the tea out, liquid escaping from his nose, and coughed, gasping to get air, rather than the delightful Twinings English Breakfast, into his lungs.


The workman slapped him on the back. Perhaps he thought that would help the situation. It didn’t. It only exacerbated it, knocking Mark off his feet and forcing him to grapple for the banister to prevent a rather tragic tumble down the stairs.


“Better out than in, I say.” The workman did say.


Mark blanked. If only the boys at his delightful modern secondary grammar had believed in that statement back when Mark had been in year ten and announcing to the world he was gay. Not that any of his peers had had any doubt before Mark had made his fabulous speech. But Mark presumed they would have preferred him to stay in on that day, considering many had received detention for the words of “encouragement” they had called out in a perfect display of teenage camaraderie.


“Well, I can do the tiles tomorra,” the man carried on, oblivious to Mark’s inner turmoil. “Fink about the rest of da roof, though. You don’t want it cavin’ in on ya.”


Mark nodded, although, right then the thought of paying out five thousand pounds that he didn’t have made him consider the alternative option.


“Righty-oh. Thank you very much for coming out on such short notice.” Mark ushered him down the stairs.


“No probs. Give me card your granddad, then.” The man handed over a bent business card, a mobile phone number scrawled on the back with black pen along with the words The Man With The Van Who Can. Mark pondered if there was anything that he couldn’t? Or wouldn’t?


“That would be rather futile. Grampy died quite some time ago.”


“Oh.” The man squinted, stepping out into the daylight and onto Mark’s porch. “So you chose this?”


“Chose what?” Mark desperately tried not to furrow his brow.


The man waved his hand, indicating, Mark presumed, the entire house’s internal decor.


“I like antiques.” Could seventies decor be considered antique? He supposed it could.


“You get antique wallpaper these days then?”


Bastard. “Oh, indeed.” Mark nodded. “Worth a fortune.”


Mark slammed the door shut and rested his back against the wall, glancing around at the house he’d lived in coming along ten years now. It was falling apart and no redecoration had been done since probably the last time he’d been up in the loft. He sighed, slammed his mug down on the windowsill and decided now was the time for a decent cup of the good stuff.


Grabbing his black Barbour jacket from the coat hooks, he slipped his feet into the black loafers by the door then ventured out into the morning sun. And what a glorious day it was, perfect to be beside the seaside. And Mark was. He lived directly opposite the pebble beach of Marsby in the south east, a quaint little seaside town that homed more retirees than tourists. Not that Mark was retired. He could only wish for that, although he was leaning nearer to the end of his career than the start. Mid-career, perhaps? Christ, maybe I should think about actually having a career rather than simply a job that barely pays the bills?


Trying to forget that he had left a gaping hole in his roof—and now his ceiling having forgotten to shut the loft hatch—Mark rammed his hands into his jacket pockets and thanked whomever above for the abnormal radiant sun. And that was when the inevitable dark clouds glided overhead and droplets landed with splats on his cheeks. Such was Mark’s luck. So he trotted that bit faster along the pathway beside the beach and into the main High Street, stopping at the welcoming sign of Macy’s Ye Olde Style Tea Shoppe on the corner.


The bell above the door chimed as Mark hurried into his regular haunt. He’d been going there for quite a few years now, since his move back to his home town from the mean streets of London, and still hadn’t figured out why Macy added the extra p and e to the shop. He shook his hair out like a wet dog and nodded at the umbrellas Macy always offered to customers on such regular occurrences as torrential rain, a quick downpour, scattered showers and that really fine light rain that has one believing they aren’t getting wet until they get home and their clothes are sopping.


The shop was empty, which was rather odd. There was usually someone sipping on a decent cup of tea made from the loose leaves in a well-stewed pot. Macy made proper tea, using a strainer, and it tasted every bit of the aromatic leaves that it should. She was also a rather good baker and Mark was horrified that there were no buns, baps or any other derogatory term used for parts of the female anatomy displayed on the counter for Mark to scoff and instantly burn off the calories by breathing. He had a fast metabolism, which was both a dream and a curse.


As Mark slapped a hand down on the counter, he heard shuffling back in the kitchen area. Thank God Macy was there. He needed a chat. And a tea.


“Helloooo? Only me, love. Usual cuppa when you’re ready.”


Drumming his fingers on the counter, Mark swivelled a one-eighty. Vacant seats and no-one in the vicinity looking like they might want venture on in to grab a tea to go, which would be quite difficult as Macy only served tea in porcelain cups. And rightly so.


“So, Macy, love,” Mark called out over his shoulder, thinking it was best to fill her in now or he might not have time to divulge all the details of his eventful morning before he had to head into work. “I’ve decided I’m better off if I just kill myself now.”


He leaned forward over the counter, ensuring his voice would drift to the kitchen. “Turns out my roof might collapse on me anyway. And according to this rather annoyingly beefcaked member of the male species, the sight of whose perfectly rounded behind is now imprinted on me for many a future solo endeavour, and who graced me with a whole other English language making me feel every bit of my—cough—years, it’s going to cost me rather more than my arm and my leg. And I’m sadly going to have to admit it, Macy love, that I’m not sure the fellow would accept an offer of my penis as monetary value. Not that I have a wealth of offers for that part of my anatomy these days anyway. Much like the pound to the euro, I swear it’s shrinking in value.”


He chuckled at his own joke, as he so often did, then spun around to face the seating area. A couple of joggers zoomed past the window, obviously on their beachside run rather than the mad dash for cakes and biscuits that he did.


“You okay, Mace? Need a hand?”


No reply. So Mark leafed through the selection of pre-packed biscuits crammed in the bowl by the till. Macy had one of those old-fashioned registers. No electronic buttons to press. No new-fangled tablet hooked up to the mains. It was basically a calculator with a drawer.


Choosing a packet of chocolate-dipped Viennese shortbread fingers, Mark cocked his head to peer through the open kitchen door. “I mean, Macy, what is the point in filing paperwork for a living just to earn enough money to fix a roof when I have no man to enjoy the comforts of my damp-free living space along with me? And by the time I find a willing participant to snuggle with me on my antique sofa looking at my antique wallpaper in my antique house, I’ll be ready to pop my clogs anyway. So, death by sugar, please, Macy.”


He slapped the counter to finalise his self-depreciative monologue, and nearly threw up the entire contents of his breakfast when a male vacated the back kitchen. Said man was wiping his hands on a rather beautifully stitched gingham tea towel. But that wasn’t the only thing that was a delight for the eye. The man was shirtless—rippling muscles, a glowing sheen of glistening skin and white-wash jeans hanging low on his perfectly sculpted hips. Needless to say, that wasn’t Macy.


“Hello,” Mark said, because, it is the polite way to greet a man, regardless of the lack of shirt and the highly embarrassing fact that Mark had already told his life story, leaving out all, or indeed any, good bits.


“G’day,” the man replied.

About The Author

Brought up in a relatively small town in Hertfordshire, C F White managed to do what most other residents try to do and fail—leave.


Studying at a West London university, she realised there was a whole city out there waiting to be discovered, so, much like Dick Whittington before her, she never made it back home and still endlessly searches for the streets paved with gold, slowly coming to the realisation they’re mostly paved with chewing gum. And the odd bit of graffiti. And those little circles of yellow spray paint where the council point out the pot holes to someone who is supposedly meant to fix them instead of staring at them vacantly whilst holding a polystyrene cup of watered-down coffee.


She eventually moved West to East along that vast District Line and settled for pie and mash, cockles and winkles and a bit of Knees Up Mother Brown to live in the East End of London; securing a job and creating a life, a home and a family.


Having worked in Higher Education for most of her career, a life-altering experience brought pen back to paper after she’d written stories as a child but never had the confidence to show them to the world. Having embarked on this writing malarkey, C F White cannot stop. So strap in, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride...


You can follow C F on Facebook and Twitter and check out her Website.

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