Review: Just Like This (Albin Academy #2) by Cole McCade

Rian Falwell has a problem.

And his name is Damon Louis.

Rian’s life as the art teacher to a gaggle of displaced boys at Albin Academy should be smooth sailing—until the stubborn, grouchy football coach comes into his world like a lightning strike and ignites a heated conflict that would leave them sworn enemies if not for a common goal.

A student in peril. A troubling secret. And two men who are polar opposites but must work together to protect their charges.

They shouldn’t want each other. They shouldn’t even like each other.

Yet as they fight to save a young man from the edge, they discover more than they thought possible about each other—and about themselves.

In the space between hatred, they find love.

And the lives they have always wanted…

Just like this.

Taking place at the same exalted boarding school for mostly rich, privileged young boys as seen in Just Like That, this story now focuses on football coach Damon, and art teacher Rian. As per the blurb, when a mutual student seems to be going astray by not fulfilling academic and sport commitments, it brings these two complete opposites together, forcing them to work towards a common goal, each challenging and pushing buttons that incite and inflame.

For McCade fans, don’t fret. This is still wrought with an angsty push pull and an antagonistic back and forth, all with an inner turmoil to lend some heady gravitas. The interactions between Damon and Rian are wrought with personal fears and insecurity, and one step forward is annihilated by too much overthinking and misinterpretation of rashly said assumptions. Again, all the words add an atmospheric touch to the minutiae, heavy in the weight of hangups and baggage.

However, my poor ferret brain has come to the conclusion that for now, this series is just not for me. Whether it’s the lush descriptions of these two’s physical attributes and reactions, their complex warring feelings, or the intimate joining they ultimately accomplish, this was too deconstructed into every single detail imaginable, testing my impatient self. I need to get to the nitty gritty, I need the story to be propelled forward, and it seemed like the verbosity, the too many self and externally imposed obstacles kept these two teachers on the sidelines watching and waiting for the other shoe to drop, not only in their romance, but with the student they were concerned with as well.

Reassuringly, this is still well written and highly romantic (with a lovely epilogue) just like the first book. I’m confident many will find this an interesting enemies to lovers dynamic as each MC with their painful pasts and deep buried longings, slowly shed their preconceived notions of the other and make a connection.

Again, I could appreciate this for what it was in all the descriptive nuances. If you crave that, if you enjoy it, then this is an absolute must. I’m just left unsure if this author’s other works can personally keep me captivated as much as I would like them to, as so far for me, less would’ve definitely been more.

Blog Tour + Giveaway: The Demon in Business Class by Anthony Dobranski

 

Author Anthony Dobranski and Other Worlds Ink host today's tour stop for The Demon in Business Class. Read more about the urban fantasy and enter in the $25 Amazon gift card giveaway!

 

Anthony Dobranski has a new urban fantasy book out: "The Demon in Business Class." And there's a giveaway:

She can speak all languages. He can smell evil intent.

They're enemies. They crave each other.

With secret magic, international settings, a conspiracy plot, and star-crossed lovers, The Demon in Business Class is a stylish modern fantasy spanning continents and genres.

A shady executive hires Zarabeth Battrie to help start the next global war, giving her a demon that speaks all languages. But other people know more about her job than she does...

A resolute investigator recruits Gabriel Archer to use his emerging psychic powers, for a visionary leader who turns others from evil. As his senses develop, his doubts grow...

When the two meet by chance in Scotland, passion becomes fragile love, until the demon’s betrayal drives Gabriel away. Before Zarabeth’s revenge destroys the visionary’s plan, Gabriel must stop her — for both to survive, neither can win.

Fans of Jeff VanderMeer, David Mitchell and Michel Faber will love this cross-genre novel with crisp literary style. The Demon in Business Class is an international story of fantasy, intrigue, and love, on the uneasy ground where the human meets the divine.

YOUR NEXT READ IS NOW BOARDING

"If William Gibson wrote paranormal .... weaves the dark worlds of the occult and big business into an intoxicating tale." – D. J. Butler, author of Witchy Eye

"Creative spark? Anthony Dobranski ignites a creative bonfire ...A masterwork of invention." – Mary Kay Zuravleff, author of Man Alive!

"A swank cocktail of international intrigue, steeped in the supernatural, mixed with literary flair .... so sleek it flies off the page." – Zach Powers, author of First Cosmic Velocity

Warnings: FOR ADULTS! Drugs, fistfights, vigorous sex, murder, an orgy (witnessed), a cult, and a (told not shown) history of child sexual abuse.

Publisher | Amazon | iBooks | B&N | Kobo | Liminal Fiction | Universal Buy Link | Goodreads

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Giveaway

Anthony is giving away a $25 Amazon gift card with this tour. Enter via Rafflecopter:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47151/?

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Excerpt

Chapter 1 - Washington, DC

In the fake-oak-paneled conference room, Zarabeth Battrie found a dozen others standing. All looked wilted and worn, with bunched shirts and bowing ankles. The plastic tables were gone, the plastic chairs stacked in the corner. More people arrived but no one unstacked the chairs. A herd instinct, Zarabeth decided, to keep a clear path for fleeing.

A natty beige man in a crisp blue plaid suit came in, pushing a low gray plastic cart with stacks of documents. If the standing people surprised him, he didn't show it. With practiced ease he lowered the room's screen, plugged in his powerstrip. Someone passed the documents around but no one spoke. In the silence, Zarabeth felt anxieties around her, about money, status, children, groping her like fevered predictable hands. Too intimate, these people's worries in her skin when she didn't know their names, or want to. She shook them off, pushed through to the front so as not to stare at men's backs all meeting.

Projector light bleached the natty man while he talked through slides of sunsets and bullet points, with the real news a seeming afterthought. Her office and two others were merging with Optimized Deployments, in Boston. A great move. Efficiency for all. The animated org-chart realigned over and over, three squares gone and Optimized’s no bigger. Reorganized like a stomach does food.

People asked tired questions, their hot worry now clammy hope. The natty man smiled no matter what he said. Yes, redundancies. Jobs would move, details to work out. All would be well and better.

He left to spread his joy. The room lights rose.

Zarabeth’s boss, Aleksei Medev, slouched in the corner like someone had whacked his head with lumber. His unshaven olive skin hung gray and limp. With all eyes on him, he straightened.

“A very challenging time,” he said. “We’re sending reports to justify -- to guide the transition. Client work is secondary.”

Zarabeth was in no hurry to fill out Aleksei’s useless reports. Nothing she had done in the last two months justified keeping her employed, she knew that. She went out the broken fire exit to a stand of pine trees behind the parking lot. She lit a cigarette, paced in the shade.

Once, Zarabeth Battrie had traveled the country as an Inspiration Manager, connecting the best people at Straightforward Consulting to an in-house knowledge network. She had good instincts which managers to flatter, which to cow, which to sneak past. It surprised her how much she understood when she finally got her quarry to talk their special arcana, over morning jogs, lobster lunches, steak dinners, midnight hookahs with shots of tequila. Later, on airplanes, she’d think of those and other conversations, watching the pieces fit together in this strange unity and balloon, her world growing with a drug-like jolt. To let her do that, week in week out -- taking off, landing, on the move, on her feet -- had been the greatest praise.

On Valentine’s Day, it had evaporated without explanation. Zarabeth had been reassigned to Reston, in the Virginia suburbs, to do public-relations grunt-work for industry trade groups. Aleksei Medev, still shiny then, had put his feet on her new desk and spun a great tale, core knowledge toward a turnkey marketing solution, select team deep study. At least she got an office with a door.

Zarabeth had visited Boston twice in her old job. Optimized had smart people and kept them by being greedy. They would suck the money from her division like marrow from bone. Everyone fired, no matter how they danced.

Doubt ate through her like some parasite come to lay its eggs. She pinched the cigarette’s cherry to burn it off with pain. Six years at this firm would not end this week.

#

Zarabeth sublet a furnished apartment in Foggy Bottom, facing west and the Potomac River. She had chosen it for the balcony view and the location near the highway, but she didn’t like the place much. The heavy dark furniture and metallic abstract art looked good at night, but menacing in morning shadow and grim in afternoon sun. Some days Zarabeth fantasized trashing it, taking a sledgehammer to the whole gloomy aquarium. This was a good day for that.

But Missy Devereaux was there, watching TV, in new red hair, her dirty bare feet on the coffee table.

“Hey, sugar,” Missy said, in her perky Kentucky accent. “Want some wine?”

“Get your bow legs off my table,” Zarabeth said. “When did you go ginger?”

“Do you love it?” Missy muted the sound. “I love it. Gramma hates it. Do you love it?”

A year ago, Missy Devereaux had been a Straightforward legislative liaison, frost-blonde hair and pricey suits, working her congressman daddy’s contact list. Now on the ground floor of Missy’s Georgetown mansion, her grandmother died slowly of bone cancer. Missy came to Zarabeth’s place as a retreat, a chance to smoke without blowing up the oxygen tanks. In return Missy watered the plants and filled the wine rack. It was a good arrangement, most days.

“It’s great.” Zarabeth went to her bedroom. She wiped off her makeup, washed her face with cold water. Her copper skin looked flushed. Small zits on her forehead. Twenty-seven, and she still broke out. She turned from the mirror so as not to smash it.

Missy came with a glass of white. “Three hours ’til the nurse leaves. You want dinner?”

Zarabeth shook with fury. “I so don’t deserve this.”

“I know, sugar-pea. I know.”

“The fuck you know, witch?”

Missy’s eyes flashed, from blue to bright green. Like the unlocking of a cage.

Zarabeth backed down. She checked herself by punching her palm repeatedly. “Fuck me! Fucking fuck.”

“You just relax,” Missy said. Maybe to herself too. Her eyes blue again, at least. She pulled a joint from behind her ear. “Drink and smoke. I’m ordering food. Lamb kebab with fries, right?” She closed the door.

---

Author Bio

Anthony Dobranski is a native of Washington DC. He studied English Literature at Yale and made his first career working internationally for AOL. His first novel is the cross-genre modern fantasy The Demon in Business Class. He also created Business Class Tarot, a modern Tarot deck inspired by his novel. He is a member of SFWA, and serves on the board of The Inner Loop, a Washington DC live-reading series. He lives in Washington now with his family. He loves to ski.

Author Website: https://www.anthonydobranski.com

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

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

Author Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/DobranskiAuthor

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/DobranskiAuthor

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16045663.Anthony_Dobranski

Author Liminal Fiction: https://www.limfic.com/mbm-book-author/anthony-dobranski/

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B06Y3J151X

Release Blitz: Lacuna by N.R. Walker

Author N.R. Walker has a new fantasy romance, Lacuna! Find out more about the enemies to lovers tale today!

Lacuna | NR Walker

Genre: LGBT Fantasy/Gay Fiction

Release date: October 23, 2020

Tropes: Enemies-to-lovers, action and adventure, swords and sorcery, romance

Amazon Universal: http://mybook.to/Lacuna

Synopsis:

A boychild swathed in green, a distinct tree-shaped birthmark on his wrist. A girlchild enveloped in red, marked with the three lines of the desert winds. A boy bundled in white, the koi mark on his wrist as defined as his shock of red hair. And a boychild wrapped in black, a raven his mark to serve his fate.

* * *

Twenty-five years ago, the hand of fate marked four newborns and sent them to the four corners of the Great Kingdoms. They were schooled and trained as rulers of their lands in preparation for the Golden Eclipse ceremony: a festival to celebrate a thousand years of peace and prosperity since the Great War.

Crow, ruler of Northlands, a skilled swordsman and expert tactician, is as reclusive and stoic as the mountains that surround him.

Tancho has spent his life in strict discipline, governing the Westlands with a fair mind and gentle hand. Quiet and unassuming, yet lethal in combat, he is the embodiment of the waters he lives by.

Yet the same hand of fate unknowingly linked Tancho to Crow in ways they cannot comprehend. Ruled by the stars, the Brother Sun and the two Sister Moons above them, and marked by an alchemical sorcery as old as time, their destinies were never their own.

As the eclipse draws near and the festival begins, word comes of another threat. Invaders from unknown lands bring a war no one was prepared for, and Crow and Tancho must decide on which side of the battle line they stand.

In life or death, their destinies will see them joined either way.

Excerpt:

Chapter One

The winter sun was at high noon, shining a spotlight on the two men sword-fighting in the open courtyard of the Northlands’ castle. Mirroring the rocky outcrops in the snowy landscape, black flags marked with a single white raven shimmered in the cool winds. Dark grey stone bricks gleamed as the sunlight turned icy frost into fleeting jewels, and the clang of metal on metal, grunts of effort, and bouts of laughter echoed skyward.

The broadsword grazed Crow’s cheek, the burn of sliced skin and a warm trickle of blood down his cheek made him smile. Soko paused for the briefest moment, horrified that he had struck his king. Crow used the moment of distraction and swung for his neck. Soko parried, and with another bark of laughter, the fight went on.

Plumes of steam escaped with every exhale, sweat cooled on heated skin. Crow’s dark hair was damp and clung to his pale face; his dark eyes sparkled with delight as they always did when he sparred with Soko. Friends since childhood, Crow trusted no one as he trusted Soko. Surrounded by consuls and guards and staff who abided by his every whim, he could count on Soko for his honesty and reason. He told him truths when no one else dared, and he never held back when they fenced or sparred, such as they were doing now.

Crow was bound by responsibility and duty, as kings often were. Even as a small boy, Crow had studied the ancient ways, the lore of his ancestors of the Northlands. Studied, trained, studied, trained when he’d have rather done anything else, and yet it was Soko who had willingly stood beside him. Brothers, even if there was not one drop of shared blood between them.

Soko’s hair was ashen blond and shaggy, his eyes blue and sharp. He had a smile of mischief and wit, a keen mind for learning and a keener eye for women, whereas Crow was dark and brooding, and his eye was drawn to the forms of men. Soko was free to act upon his impulses and there had never been a shortage of satisfied women in the Northlands’ castle, yet Crow had never been free.

Who wears the mark bears the crown . . .

Bound by responsibility and duty. And the birthmark on his wrist. Even the mere thought of it . . .

He hissed at the pain and dropped his sword, pulling at the leather wrist guard, fumbling to get the straps undone.

“What is it?” Soko asked, immediately concerned. “It itches still?”

“No,” Crow breathed. He finally pulled the guard from his arm and covered the birthmark with his cold fingers. “It burns.”

“Burns? What the—”

Just then, the heavy wooden doors to the courtyard swung inward. Soko spun into a ready stance with his sword raised to protect Crow, without fault, without question. The young messenger raised his hands in alarm, breathing hard, his eyes trained on the blade.

“What is it?” Soko demanded.

“Excuse me, my lord,” the messenger said, bowing his head to Crow. “A lone rider comes. At pace.”

A lone rider coming to the city was not uncommon. Villagers traded food and wares all the time. “What of it?” Crow asked, still clutching his wrist. “Why the urgency?”

The messenger swallowed hard. “The rider and horse bear the yellow flag of the Elders’ Consul.”

Soko lowered his sword and turned to Crow, his eyes wide and face ashen, for it could only mean one thing.

The birthmark on Crow’s wrist continued to burn.

* * *

Dressed now in warmer clothes, Crow and Soko stood at one of the grand hall windows watching as the yellow-clad rider made his way through the gates of the castle. Crow had his guards meet the man, one taking his horse, one escorting the rider inside, out of view, knowing it would take several minutes for the rider to be brought to see him.

Crow held his wrist, trying to ignore the burn.

“It’s never caused you pain before,” Soko noted. “And I don’t think a visit from the Elders’ Consul is a coincidence.”

Crow winced again and Soko took his hand, inspecting the birthmark. It looked as it always had; dark against his pale skin, oddly beautiful and abstract, the clear form of a raven in full flight, its wings outstretched. The mark which showed Crow’s predestined fate appeared no different; though it had begun to itch at the last full moons, now it burned like fire ants crawling beneath his skin.

Crow tugged his hand away and pulled down his coat sleeve. “I’m fine, and make no mention of it in front of company.”

After a brief pause, Soko sighed. “It’s time, isn’t it? That’s what this means? The festival draws near.”

Crow gave a nod before the sound of approaching footsteps put an end to this conversation. The two heavy doors opened and a guard appeared and bowed his head. “My lord, messenger of the Elders’ Consul.”

He stepped aside and the visitor strode forward. He wore the Consul’s yellow tunic under a heavy coat of the same colour, with the four-pointed compass rose emblazoned upon his chest. He appeared slightly dishevelled and tired, though he bowed his head. He produced a scroll from inside his coat pocket and offered it to Crow. “My lord.”

Crow took the paper from him but did not open it. “Your name?”

“Roulant,” he replied quickly.

“You’ve ridden far.”

“Six days.”

It was perhaps a seven- or eight-day ride to the Elders’ Consul temple, and the ride itself was not an easy one. Northlands was mountainous, rocky roads, and deep snow; hard and brutal land, almost as hard and brutal as the men and women who called it home. Given this rider had done it in six days meant there was urgency. “You rode alone?”

“Yes, my lord. Four riders sent to the four quarters.”

The Great Kingdoms had long ago been divided into four quarters. North, of mountains and snow. West, of oceans and rivers. East, of jungles and forests, and South of desert sands and dunes. At its centre, was the Aequi Kentron; a huge moated temple of sorts, where the Elders’ Consul presides, upholding the law of the four lands and keeping score.

Formed a thousand years ago after the Great War, nine high priests protected the ancient ways and traditions, ensuring laws remained unbroken and territory borders intact. They overlooked the trade between kingdoms and ensured fairness at every turn, and the last thousand years had been peaceful and prosperous.

Steeped in history and tradition, and by definition the equal centre, Aequi Kentron was the heart of all four kingdoms.

Each of the four rulers was chosen at birth by the birthmark on their wrist. They would each rule their lands independently and in their own right, with their own laws and governance, yet there were some laws they could not ignore.

The law that stated when each ruler was beckoned, they would come.

The law was written when the Consul was established, that when the Brother Sun and the two Sister Moons aligned at the equinox, they would partake in the Festival of the Eclipse. They would abide with honour and with the dignity of the rank they held.

Crow was proud of his title, proud of his people, and he would lay his life down for his kingdom. And he should have been proud to be the chosen one in the time of the eclipse. Once every thousand years and it happened in his lifetime, his rule. Yet destiny was a weight like no other, and unease filled his belly for reasons he couldn’t put name to. The fact his birthmark now caused him pain was one he couldn’t ignore, and now with the news from Aequi Kentron, it could only mean one thing.

His time was now.

Realisation skittered down Crow’s spine like a cold spider. So, it was time. Every arrow of his life was pointed to this. He gave a reluctant nod and turned to the guard. “See this man to hot food and warm quarters, and see that his horse is tended to.”

Roulant’s gaze shot up to Crow’s. “My lord, I am thankful.”

“As am I.” Crow gave him a smile. “Eat and rest as you need.”

Roulant gave another nod of gratitude, and he was escorted out by the guard. Soko waited patiently as Crow held the scroll. There was a wax seal atop the Consul’s writing in old calligraphy ink.

King of Northlands

Crow slid his finger beneath the seal and unrolled the thick paper. At the centre top was the Consul’s four-pointed compass rose stamped in blue ink. The writing was impeccably neat, the strokes delivered with such importance not even the ink dared to bleed.

Your Royal Highness, King Crow of Northlands,

The Eclipse befalls on the Equinox in your twenty-fifth year.

Your attendance is formally requested at the Aequi Kentron one week before the Equinox, for the festival of the Golden Age.

We eagerly await your arrival.

Crow read it again, then handed it to Soko who read it, frowning. “What does this mean?”

Crow stared out the window at the snow-covered valley below, at how the blackened rocky crags tore raggedly through the serene whiteness looking like open claw marks in flesh.

“I ride for Aequi Kentron in two days,” Crow replied.

Soko’s eyes hardened. “You will not ride alone.”

Crow almost smiled at that. “I didn’t think I would.”

“And the eclipse?”

“A golden sun for a golden age,” he replied with a sigh, turning back to stare out the window. “My birthright is finally upon me.”

Soko’s voice was quiet, as though he dreaded to hear what he already knew. “What will you do?”

Crow took a long moment to answer. Was it fear or dread? Acceptance or resignation? “My choice in this was long ago removed,” he murmured, finally meeting Soko’s eyes. “I will attend their festival, and when all the fanfare and nonsense is done, I will return as if nothing has occurred.”

“It’s supposed to be a celebration,” Soko replied. “Yet it hangs over you like a dark cloud.”

Crow sighed. He would have quite happily been left alone for all his days, but this felt different. This felt ominous and he couldn’t explain why. “True metal does not fear the furnace,” he murmured.

It was a favoured Northlands saying, cited by the miners who dug ore from frozen mountains and by the blacksmiths who turned it into steel.

Yet Crow feared . . . something. He feared this festival and ceremony; he feared the change he felt would rise with the golden sun. He feared the unknown.

And he feared the greasy dread in his belly and the burn on his wrist that told him his life was about to change forever.

 

N.R. Walker Bio

N.R. Walker is an Australian author, who loves her genre of gay romance. She loves writing and spends far too much time doing it, but wouldn’t have it any other way.

She is many things: a mother, a wife, a sister, a writer. She has pretty, pretty boys who live in her head, who don’t let her sleep at night unless she gives them life with words.

She likes it when they do dirty, dirty things… but likes it even more when they fall in love.

She used to think having people in her head talking to her was weird, until one day she happened across other writers who told her it was normal.

She’s been writing ever since…

Keep up with everything NR Walker here:https://smart.bio/nrwalkerauthor/

Series Tour: Desire (Books #1 - 5) by Ty Debauchee

 Author Ty Debauchee and Gay Book Promotions promote erotica series, Desire (#1-5)! Check it out today!

SERIES REVIEW TOUR 

Desire by Ty Debauchee 

PERFECT FRICTION LEADS TO PERFECT PLEASURE! 

Gorgeous Garrett fills Ty’s heart with love once again. Loneliness is subverted by soulmate love! 

When Garrett encounters an extremely embarrassing situation in the boys' basketball locker room, his teammates begin hazing him mercilessly. Ty steps forward to protect Garrett, and a lasting friendship and love affair begins. 

As always with Ty Debauchee books, you will find yourself turning the pages rapidly and adjusting yourself in preparation for what happens next. Just try not to make a mess. 

Overall Heat Rating for the series: 5 flames 

The stories, books and series, are progressive and best read in order. 

These books are unique in that they have an interesting photograph at the beginning of each chapter to set the stage for the story. 

The series will comprise of 8 books. The fifth book was published on September 15, 2020.

BOOK 1

Book Title: Abs Lust Embarrassment: Desire #201

Length: 10 800 words / 56 pages 

Release Date: July 17, 2020

Genre/s: Fiction > M/M Gay > Romance > Erotica

Trope/s: Homophobic Hazing

Themes: Coming out, Homophobic Hazing, Bullying

Goodreads 

Buy Links - Free Read

Amazon US | Amazon UK

Apple | Barnes & Noble | Kobo 

Blurb 

PERFECT FRICTION LEADS TO PERFECT PLEASURE! 

Endowed and proud, Garrett walks through the locker room toward the shower. Oddly, he briefly feels guilty for so enjoying his girlfriend's bragging about how blessed he is. Suddenly, he is betrayed by his number one asset.

A frenzy of unhinged harassment and gay bashing ensues! The high school basketball team is showering after their first win when Garrett becomes aroused. It's an embarrassing disaster! In that instant, Garrett's life changes forever.

As Ty looks on, he must decide whether to stay on the side lines or join with the homophobic mob to hide his own secret. Garrett's crisis now looms as a dramatic force to change Ty's life. How will Garrett and Ty survive the frenzied torment of merciless homophobic teammates?

A simple act of human compassion leads both to a revelation of closely held personal perspectives, secrets, and carnal desires. Will they soon share more than just their intimate secrets?

This book contains explicit scenes of a gay sexual nature by consenting characters who are over 18 years of age. It is intended only for readers who are 18+ years of age. If you are underage or may be offended by this topic, do not purchase this book.

 

BOOK 2

Book Title: Abs Lust Snowmen Play Naked: Desire #202

Length: 20 750 words / 94 pages

Release Date: July 17, 2020

Genre/s: Fiction > M/M Gay > Romance > Erotica

Trope/s: Homophobic Hazing

Themes: Coming out, Homophobic Hazing, Gay Love, Bullying

Goodreads

Buy Links - Free Read

Amazon US | Amazon UK

Apple | Barnes & Noble | Kobo 

Blurb 

SO HOT IT WILL MAKE YOUR CARROT GROW! 

Although acquainted for several years, Ty and Garrett only recently came to know each other. Why had Ty never realized how adorable Garrett is? Now Ty can't take his eyes off of him.

Everyone knows blizzards are great for snowmen and sex! Garrett loves the snow and becomes truly giddy when the first flakes fly. The biggest blizzard of their lives traps Garrett and Ty alone at Garrett's house. Garrett hopes the storm will provide a perfect opportunity for Ty to help him explore his gay urges, as well as learn a few tricks.

Garrett's big questions are whether he is straight, bi, or gay and once he knows, will he tell the world or keep it to himself?

Will Ty satisfy Garrett's erotic urning?

This book contains explicit scenes of a gay sexual nature by consenting characters who are over 18 years of age. It is intended only for readers who are 18+ years of age. If you are underage or may be offended by this topic, do not purchase this book.

     

BOOK 3

Book Title: Abs Lust Homework: Desire #203

Length: 19 100 words / 87 pages

Release Date: August 1, 2020

Genre/s: Fiction > M/M Gay > Romance > Erotica

Trope/s: Homophobic Hazing, Abusive Father

Themes: Coming out, Homophobic Hazing, Finding Self Confidence, Gay Love, Bullying

Goodreads

Buy Links

Amazon US | Amazon UK 

Apple | Barnes & Noble | Kobo 

Blurb 

EVERYTHING IS MORE FUN NAKED! ESPECIALLY HOMEWORK!

You never know what might be considered HOMEWORK. Sign up for the most erotic tutoring sessions ever!

Who could be motivated to study if your dad perpetually told you that you are too dimwitted to succeed? In spite of Garrett's brilliance, he genuinely believes he is stupid. 

Who could be motivated to succeed in school when each day is a gauntlet of homophobic hazing by the school bully and your ex-girlfriend? Garrett just wants to curl up and disappear.

Consequently, Garrett is doing poorly in his high school classes and failing in Algebra. Desperately afraid his poor grades will bench him from the basketball team, Garrett still shows no interest in Ty's offer to tutor him. Garrett knows he is a lost cause and tutoring will just be frustrating and painful. No Thanks!!!

However, Ty believes the best homework motivator is your boyfriend's anatomy. Can Ty's use Strip Algebra and Algebra For Sex to tease out excellence? You want this book in your library. Someday, you just might need Ty's lustful manipulations.

This book contains explicit scenes of a gay sexual nature by consenting characters who are over 18 years of age. It is intended only for readers who are 18+ years of age. If you are underage or may be offended by this topic, do not purchase this book.

 

BOOK 4

Book Title: Abs Lust Bare Rejection: Desire #204

Length: 22 400 words / 95 pages

Release Date: September 1, 2020

Genre/s: Fiction > M/M Gay > Romance > Erotica

Trope/s: Homophobic Hazing

Themes: Coming out, Gay Love, Homophobic Hazing, Bullying, Abusive Father

Goodreads

Buy Links

Amazon US | Amazon UK 

Apple | Barnes & Noble | Kobo 

Blurb 

NAKED, COLD, NUMB - WANDERING, STUMBLING, LOST, ALL ALONE! HELP ME TY!

Ty's parents reveal insights he never suspected. Is Garrett and Ty's secret at risk?

Hank, Garrett's father, cites Garrett's sexual orientation as reason to throw him out of the house. Garrett struggles to survive nude in frigid weather. Where is Ty when Garrett desperately needs him? 

How long before Garrett dies of exposure and hypothermia?

By not dealing with Hank decisively, Ty makes a costly error destined to haunt the boys for a lifetime. So Ty must put everything on the line to save Garrett and his handsome nurse from Hank's wrath. But in whose bed will Ty sleep? Will Ty's love be lost forever?

This book contains explicit scenes of a gay sexual nature by consenting characters who are over 18 years of age. It is intended only for readers who are 18+ years of age. If you are underage or may be offended by this topic, do not purchase this book.

 

BOOK 5

Book Title: Abs Lust Prom: Desire #205

Length: 19 200 words 

Release Date: September 15, 2020

Genre/s: Fiction > M/M Gay > Romance > Erotica

Trope/s: Homophobic Hazing

Themes: Gay Love, Homophobic Hazing, Public Exhibition Caught

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Buy Links

Amazon US | Amazon UK 

Blurb 

PLAY NAKED! MAYBE YOU’LL GET CAUGHT!

Prom night essentials for great sex include a super HOT boyfriend with great abs, a great tush, sexy feet, stunning smile, and tantalizingly erotic tux attire.

Ty desperately wants to take Garrett to the prom as his date, but neither wants to be out to classmates. This year's prom needs to be special, so Garrett manipulates this event in their favor.

Special T-shirts with favorite sayings enhance the mood. Find yourself on the edge of your seat doing your best to ease your desires as Garrett allows Ty to relive what now seems like a wet dream premonition from a past…

This book contains explicit scenes of a gay sexual nature by consenting characters who are over 18 years of age. It is intended only for readers who are 18+ years of age. If you are underage or may be offended by this topic, do not purchase this book.

Excerpt - Abs Lust Snowmen Play Naked: Desire #202

(Please note that each chapter begins with an illustrative photo)

 

Chapter 2

“Shouldn’t we put on swimming suits and get a shirt or something to go out there?” He asked as he flipped a red switch.

“Absolutely not! Why put on clothes and then have to take them off when we get out there?”

“Lights?” He asked.

“Absolutely not! We need privacy, especially from your neighbors. So we need to be quiet also.”

Arms around each other’s waist, with rock hard pleasure wands leading the way like twin Rudolfs running side by side, we went dashing through the snow naked to the hot tub across 150 feet of grass lawn now covered with 14 inches of snow.

Fuuuck! Cold! Should have worn shoes! Nah, would have ruined the experience.

Garrett had the cover was off in seconds, as I ran over to hit the bubbler ‘Go’ switch. When I turned back toward the hot tub, the image of Garrett standing in the hot tub was breathtaking.

In each other’s arms, we were kissing deeply as we eased ourselves into the delightfully hot water.

I can’t stop kissing you. And having your soft hand wrapped around my hard on is something I definitely don’t want to end anytime soon either.

As my tongue slipped along his teeth and then tussled with his tongue in an attempt to figure out whose tongue got which space, I realized I couldn’t lose myself in this and just forget about his struggle. So I pulled back a bit and said, “I promised you a Magic Potion to make you feel better, so come over here.”

Pulling him to the side of the tub, I turned us sideways so a major jet was blowing between his back and my abs; but we were not far apart. The granite in my fully erect tool was resting comfortably in a vertical position against the small of his back.

Now the potion begins. Let’s see if you notice.

With both hands I began to massage Garrett’s trapezius muscles. Using my thumbs, I worked the muscles from their origins in his neck, and down to their insertions on his scapulae. As I encountered knotted up trigger points in the muscles, I focused on those with my thumbs, working to get those fibers to release and relax.

I couldn’t hear all of his moans of pleasure over the noise of the bubbling hot tub, but some got through. Between his sound effects and feeling him relax back against my chest, I was pretty sure I was helping him to destress and feel better.

The snow was still falling hard, so the hot tub was steaming intensely, and the snow was collecting heavily on our hair. I couldn’t resist licking some of the snow off of him. If he wasn’t so upset, it would have been the perfect moment to nail his cute little tush; but I decided I should wait.

I just hope the massage is helping you to feel better.

“Your magic is amazing! Thank you, Mr. Magician.”

I couldn’t resist shifting my snow licking of his hair to licking and kissing his neck. As I did, he tilted his head to give me easier access to his neck and shoulder. Now my hand on his right shoulder was a little in the way, so I discretely slid it down over his shoulder and under his arm allowing my Magic Fingers to tease his nipple.

While I continued to kiss his neck, I caressed down his abs and took ahold of his rigid monster. I began stroking it up and down, and he turned his head toward me as much as possible as his eyes lit up.

“How do you feel? You like my magic? Do you want to see some more?”

“Ohhh… fuuuck… I love your magic,” he said with the smile which had been missing, “show me all you’ve got. Please!”

We started kissing deeply again, and I turned him so he was sitting sideways in my lap. My left hand continued to massage his neck, and my right hand was slowly stroking his rigid shaft as we kissed passionately. You would have thought we had just met.

Well, I guess we sorta did just meet for real last night.

Suddenly he put his hand on my hand stopping my stroke and said, “I’m close.”

“Not me.”

He thought I meant I wasn’t stroking him, then he suddenly realized I needed some attention as well. He started to stroke me but the position was awkward, so we moved around until we were facing each other with the water jet blowing across our stomachs. Then Garrett went back to stroking me as we kissed.

The snow continued to fall, and I was amazed at how stunningly beautiful Garrett was with the snow in his moussed up hair. By then I had caught up in the game we were playing, so I decided to squeeze in even closer to him.

His legs were over mine, our love wands were touching, and we were still kissing as Garrett wrapped his hand around both of our joy sticks. I moved Garrett’s hand up a little bit. Then I took a hold of both of our shafts below his hand while interlacing my pointer finger with his pinky in sort of a golf club grip.

“Hug me and hold us together while together we provide the stroking magic for both of us,” then we began stroking in a frottage position which felt amazing to me. Garrett had his eyes closed and was quivering with pleasure as well.

“Please look at me and kiss me when we bust.”

“I’m close.”

“Me too!”

In a matter of seconds, we were both quaking, spasming, and convulsing in the throws of orgasmic bliss.

I looked into his eyes and kissed him as we both came at the same time. It was yet another special moment for me, but more importantly, it was the first time I felt an incredible emotional lightning bolt surge through me from being with Garrett.

Fuuuck! There is no doubt, I’m in love with you. But I can’t tell you how I feel. I’m such a dumbass. Do I have to fall in love with every cute guy I meet?

It’s harder to be subtle with those final strokes in the water of the hot tub, so we gave up on trying to stretch out our mutual orgasms any longer. Instead, we both just wrapped our arms around each other in another tight embrace.

“Thank you!”

“Dude, it was awesome for me too!”

And we continued to kiss, more softly now, more gently and slowly, but still feeling all of the passionate emotions and the beauty of a very special night.

Suddenly the hot tub bubbler shut off, “Damn!”

I always hate having to get out of the warmth of the tub to restart the bubbler.

But as the tub settled down and the noise went away, we became aware of this unusually serene silence created by the snow still falling heavily and absorbing all the ambient sound. It was a serenity I had always loved about snow, and I was loving it even more with Garrett in my arms.

About the Author

As an energetic man of 6’4” tall and 195 pounds of muscle, I very much enjoy athletic pursuits including basketball, waterskiing, and snow skiing. While having a quiet and shy personality, I value my integrity above all else with loyalty to my friends and family coming in as a very close second.

A small rural community at the edge of a midwestern metropolitan area in the center of the United States is where I grew up. So many aspects of that environment made it a wonderful place to live and definitely played a role in molding my character and principles. However, acceptance of individuals with a gay sexual orientation was not a widely supported virtue at the time.

Growing up with the stress of gay urges and desires in a straight world and struggling to find my place in the world, I frequently used my dreams and fantasies as an emotional crutch to get me through some very challenging times. By sharing these stories in my books, I sincerely hope to ease the stress of others who might face similar challenges and offer an entertaining escape for anyone in need.

Author Links

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Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

 

Follow the tour and check out the other blog posts and reviews here

Blog Tour + Giveaway: Wolf at the Door (Wolf Winter #3) by T.A. Moore

Welcome author T.A. Moore as she hosts today's blog tour stop for paranormal series finale, Wolf at the Door (Wolf Winter #3)! Read more about the latest from the trilogy and don't miss an extract of a first draft of Dog Days (Book #1)! Plus, she hosts a $15 Amazon gift card giveaway!

Title: Wolf at the Door
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Release: 27 Oct
Cover Artist: L.C. Chase
Amazon: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Wolf-Door-Winter-TA-Moore/dp/1644057190
Dreamspinner Link: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Wolf-Door-Winter-TA-Moore/dp/1644057190

Blurb:
Sequel to Stone the Crows

A Wolf Winter Novel

Home.

For Jack and Gregor, the exiled Wolf Princes of the Scottish pack, it’s someplace they never wanted to leave. For Danny, who fled as soon as he could, it’s someplace he never planned to return. As for Nick, pathologist and carrion bird, he has nowhere else to be.

It offers only one thing—the Old Man’s help in putting down the bloody-handed treachery from the prophets who dogged them all the way from Durham. The twins’ father is many things, not all of them kind, but not even the prophets would cross him.

But when they finally arrive home, they find the Old Man gone and the prophets’ puppet installed in his place. Outnumbered, bereaved, and haunted by old mistakes, the four of them must discover the prophet Rose’s plan before it’s too late. As the stakes rise and the cold settles into their bones, they find that the old fairy tales hide horrors under their pretty words.

In the Highlands, Fenrir has stirred, and he’s hungry.

The prophets have always said that a Wolf Winter is red as blood—but they never said whose.



Tour:

 

Author Visit

First of all, thank you so much for having me! I’m thrilled to be here with the blog tour for Wolf at the Door, the final book in the Wolf Winter trilogy.

The final book. Wow. I am half-excited and half-maudlin about this. It’s a good book, and a good ending. Or, at least, I think so. Hopefully everyone else will agree. Still, endings. It’s always a bit scary to see them coming.

So, I thought for this final blog tour I’d go back to the beginning and the very first draft of Dog Days with some never before seen extracts.

Extract from the First Draft of Dog Days by TA Moore

(Author’s Note: Originally there were a few wolves from the Scottish pack who’d thrown their fate in with Jack and followed him down over the wall. They didn’t last too long, but honestly I loved them. Especially the twins, who were feral little teenagers and Danny was far too good with!)

With the farm given over to Danny’s people, the wolves had denned for the moon hunt in a pub. Five of them, some skinside, some not, sprawled on torn cushions on the floor or perched on the scarred, scorched counter. Piles of broken glass, freshly swept from the dust and scratches, glittered in corners. The smell of alcohol - malt and fruit and juniper - had soaked into the wood and bricks beyond any cleaning.

A small, neat woman with a sleek brown bob and soft hips sat at a table, playing cards with a fat, inked man in worn leathers. Two russet coloured wolves sprawled in front of the door, with the legs and lank of adolescents.

It occurred to Danny that an adolescent might be foolish enough to break the Numitor's laws about attacking humans, and clumsy enough to fail at the kill. They smelled wrong though, popping candy sweet and pine.

The fifth was an old, blind man who sat the bar smoking a joint with declawed stumps. The dog stopped, ears down and tail clamped. A foot in his rump scooped him over the threshold, hopping gracelessly over the boneless near-pups in the door.

‘Our Prince returns,’ the old man said, through a cloud of bluish smoke. ‘And the dog with him.’

‘Our dog,’ Jack said. He stepped inside and wrenched the door shut behind him, closing out the weather.

The red wolves finally stirred themselves to get up, all angles and odd whorls of hair. One of them lifted his tail and peeled its lips back to the gumline, while the other stuck its head under the dog to stick a cold nose into its groin. Experience told the dog that dealing with puppies, or adolescents that behaved like puppies, was easier with hands.

He shrugged skinside and onto his feet, palming the nosy wolf’s head and shoving it away. He ignored its posturing twin. As a dog he was at the bottom of the pecking order by default, a wolf trying to establish dominance just looked foolish.

‘Or we could go with Danny,’ he said. Water dripped off him, puddling around his muddy feet. The world fuzzed around the edges as his eyes went human and short-sighted again. He tried not to squint and give it away. ‘Just to stop all the other local strays turning up when you yell.’

The woman playing cards folded her hand and laid it down on the table. She stood up, something curdling around her scent as she looked him over.

‘What would it matter?’ she asked. ‘One dog’s the same as another.’

‘Lorraine,’ Jack growled. The displeasure in his voice rippled through the room, making everyone but the blind man drop their gaze to the floor.

‘Apologies,’ Lorraine muttered, insincerity rick in her voice. ‘The dog is clearly very special.’

‘He could be yet,’ the blind man said. ‘Our destiny is set under Selene, but some destinies are stronger than others. They can draw the lost into their train.’

Author Bio:

TA MOORE


TA Moore is a Northern Irish writer of romantic suspense, urban fantasy, and contemporary romance novels. A childhood in a rural, seaside town fostered in her a suspicious nature, a love of mystery, and a streak of black humour a mile wide. As her grandmother always said, ‘she’d laugh at a bad thing that one’, mind you, that was the pot calling the kettle black. TA Moore studied History, Irish mythology, English at University, mostly because she has always loved a good story. She has worked as a journalist, a finance manager, and in the arts sectors before she finally gave in to a lifelong desire to write.

Coffee, Doc Marten boots, and good friends are the essential things in life. Spiders, mayo, and heels are to be avoided.

| Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Goodreads |

Giveaway

Win a $15 Amazon gift card courtesy of author T.A. Moore!

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Blog Tour + Giveaway: The Werewolf and His Boy by Warren Rochelle

Author Warren Rochelle and Other Worlds Ink visit on The Werewolf and His Boy blog tour today! Read more about the paranormal romance and enter in the $20 Amazon gift card giveaway!

Warren Rochelle has a new gay paranormal romance out: "The Werewolf and His Boy." And there's a giveaway!

Their leap of faith could unleash magic—or plunge them into darkness.

Henry Thorn has worked at Larkin’s since graduating high school. He likes it—especially when he can use his secret skill of hiding inside shadows so his boss can’t find them. Without that talent, he would never had survived growing up different.

When a hire enters the store, Henry’s other latent talent kicks in. He can smell an emotional response even before he lays eyes on the redhead.

Jamey Currey came out, and his conservative parents promptly kicked him out. He, too, is different—he senses Henry’s attraction the moment they met. The first time they kiss, torrential rains fall from skies split by lightning.

Their kiss also awakens the Watchers, diabolical hunters who will stop at nothing—even extermination—to keep magic suppressed. With the help of a friendly coven of friendly witches, the boys embark on a quest to discover an ancient key to restoring magic to the world, and to understand mysteries of their own hearts.

The question is, will this quest cost them their lives?

Publisher | Amazon | B&N | Kobo | Goodreads

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Giveaway

Warren is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour – enter via Rafflecopter:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47152/?

---

Excerpt

Jamey screamed. Henry's heart turned over.

Dr. Melloy grabbed a long, carved oaken staff from a corner and stood very still for a moment. "My books, almost all my books, are in this house, and some of these are my mother's, my grandmother's," she whispered, clearly in pain. "Let's go," she said, sighing heavily as she threw the heavy zipped bag over her shoulder and ran for the door. Henry hugged his duffel and blanket to his chest and ran after her. He wanted to tell her thank you, thank you, for saving him and Jamey, and that she was one of the coolest -- no, the coolest person he had ever met. She had been so nice to him ever since he had moved in and he wasn't sure he really knew why. I'll thank her. When things calm down I will definitely thank her.

Up the stairs, down the hall, in and out of pools of light from this lamp, the other, the overhead, the front door, and down and Jamey stood holding onto the car door.

They looked up.

No stars. No moon. Shadows, winged, darker and blacker than any shadows around them. The lead one keened, high and sharp.

"Watchers," Dr. Melloy said. Behind the creatures were the beginnings of a storm. Lightning snapped and forked, striking the professor's house and setting the roof ablaze. Fire came down the roof, down the gutter pipes, the brick wall, over the windows, into the bushes growing against the house and into the pine-straw-covered yard that crackled, snapped, into flame.

"Jamey, Henry, get behind me, now," Dr. Melloy shouted as the Watchers hovered just above the thicket of cedars that screened the house from the street. They screeched and keened, throwing themselves against some invisible wall between them and the witch and the two naked boys.

Jamey hooked one arm around Henry's neck, and then he hopped as Henry half-carried him to stand behind the witch. Thunder, loud, close. Lighting struck the house again. Muttering, Dr. Melloy thrust her staff upward and light poured out of it as she threw out a fine, gauzy, sparkling net that spread out and over and above them, shimmering against the darkness. Something shattered, and grey and white chunks of dying light fell into the cedars and the gravel and hard earth of the driveway.

"Dammit! They broke the first ring of wards!" Dr. Melloy yelled over what now seemed like constant thunder and the roar of the fire. The wind tore at the flames, throwing bits and pieces into the air and the now-burning cedars. Flames and heat pushed against the net that glowed between them and the burning house and yard and trees.

"What are we going to do? Henry? Where'd he go?" Jamey yelled back, then stopped. Henry squeezed the arm around his neck with one hand, Jamey's waist with the other. Henry seemed to be flickering in and out of sight, the way he had done in Larkin's. Jamey could see the flames through Henry.

Henry looked at his hands, his feet: they were invisible. He shuddered, flickered on and off. "We wait just a few minutes more -- oh, werewolves do that -- camouflage, on and off. Henry, try to calm down."

"Wait?" Henry said, his voice trembling. He could feel and smell Jamey's fear and his own fear. Calm down?

"There are two more rings of wards and this shield-net, and all three have to be breached for those Watchers to get to us. We just have to hold on for a few more minutes. If only the moon were full," she added. "I'd have a lot more power to draw on. Can't be helped."

Something shattered. Chunks of light, this time, gold, fell again. A third shattering followed right behind the second, green chunks of light. Thunder. Lightning. Wind, bits of fire in the air, fire engulfing the house, the trees.

"Get right behind me. Get close."

The Watchers were right on the other side of the shield-net. They pushed, keened, ripped. The shield quivered. Bits fell.

A siren, another, and then another. The Watchers screamed.

"Finally," Dr. Melloy muttered.

"The fire department can stop these things?" Henry asked as he helped Jamey get as close to her as they could, their bodies bumping against hers.

"Watchers fear disclosure more than anything. Nothing attracts attention like a fire truck. And it looks like everybody in the neighborhood is out in the street. They could ignore the first few, but not this mob."

More thunder. The sirens were getting closer. The heat of the burning house and trees pressed against the shield-net. Sweat dripped down Henry's face, his back. His eyes burned from the salt, even as he tried to wipe it away with his free hand. With his other hand he held on tight to Jamey. Henry could feel Jamey's sweat on his bare skin; he knew if he licked Jamey's skin, he would taste salt. The Watchers charged against the net, and ripped, their claws caught in its shimmer and sparkle, frantic to beat the coming fire trucks.

"Get in the car. They're almost here."

Henry shoved Jamey into the backseat and crawled in after him and jerked the door closed. Dr. Melloy threw out one last layer of net, this time over the car, and slammed her door closed just as the sirens slowed down. Heavy tires crunched on gravel. He heard water hit fire as one truck started with the burning trees. With the Watchers screaming in the air above them, Dr. Melloy stepped on the gas, barreled down the driveway, hung a left onto Three Chopt, and drove through the crowd. Then she really floored it.

---

Author Bio

Warren Rochelle lives in Charlottesville, Virginia, and has just retired from teaching English at the University of Mary Washington.

His short fiction and poetry have been published in such journals and anthologies as Icarus, North Carolina Literary Review, Forbidden Lines, Aboriginal Science Fiction, Collective Fallout, Queer Fish 2, Empty Oaks, Quantum Fairy Tales, Migration, The Silver Gryphon, Jaelle Her Book, Colonnades, and Graffiti, as well as the Asheville Poetry Review, GW Magazine, Crucible, The Charlotte Poetry Review, and Romance and Beyond.

His short story, “The Golden Boy,” was a finalist for the 2004 Spectrum Award for Short Fiction. His short story “Mirrors,” was just published in Under A Green Rose, a queering romance anthology, from Cuil Press. “The Latest Thing,” a flash fiction story, is in the Queer Sci Fi anthology, Innovation.

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

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

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

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

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

Guest Review: Paid to Pretend (Delphic Agency #5) by Romilly King

Christian De Olio, natural-born Boy Scout, head of the Delphic Security Team, exemplary son of a wealthy family, pretends every day of his life.

He pretends he is sexless in a world where arousal rules.

He pretends that he works for Delphic because it was the obvious choice after his time in the army.

He pretends that whenever he listens to the far-off voice of Michael Bond, the long-absent Director of Delphic, it doesn’t take him right back to one night 15 years ago. To the one night, he didn’t pretend. To the one night, he was himself.

And then the Director comes home, and Christian isn’t sure he can pretend anymore. Not when Michael looks at him the way he does, with such disappointment, because Christian can endure anything except being a disappointment to Michael.

Particularly when he thought he was doing so well.

Reviewer: Shee Reader

I have enjoyed all the Delphic books so far and this was no exception. It was rather different to the others, mainly because the story was of the elusive boss of Delphic. Michael Bond has been ‘missing’ and controlling his business at a distance for fifteen years. He left behind Christian, because he didn’t want to take the boy’s future. When in fact, all Christian had wanted was Michael to be his everything.

The time apart has been hard for both men, and now working together in the same special place that was once their joy, it is certain that their paths will cross. Is their connections still as strong and all encompassing as it once was?

The threat comes from an underground ‘Dom’ ring that abducts and abuses young men must be infiltrated by a strong Dom and skilful sub. Of course Michael and Christian have to step up to help protect the innocent and the lifestyle that means so much to them both.

The connection between them is sizzling. The relationship and real second chance at finding what they both want. I found Michael rather infuriating for his making decisions for Christian without communicating to him, but that’s a Dom I guess!

I really liked Christian and was so impressed by his willingness to forgive Michael for abandoning him, even though Michael left for what he felt were the right reasons. Christian was amazing for being willing to trust Michael again and their HEA was such a relief!

Such a moving story! Recommended.

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

Giveaway + Release Blitz: Dinner at the Blue Moon Café by Rick R. Reed

 

Join author Rick R. Reed & IndiGo Promotions in celebrating the release of Dinner at the Blue Moon Café! Find out more about this paranormal romance, read an excerpt & enter in the giveaway for a $10 Ninestar Press credit too!

Title: Dinner at the Blue Moon Café

Author: Rick R. Reed

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: October 19, 2020

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 66700

Genre: Paranormal, LGBTQIA+, chef, murders, werewolf, friendship, shifters, contemporary, Seattle, food, recipes

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Synopsis

A monster moves through the darkest night, lit only by the full moon, taking them, one by one, from Seattle’s gay gathering areas.

In an atmosphere of spine-tingling fear, Thad Matthews finds his first true love cooking in an Italian restaurant called The Blue Moon Cafe. Sam Lupino is everything Thad has ever hoped for in a man: virile, sexy as hell, kind, and…he can cook!

As the pair’s love heats up, so do the questions. Who is the killer preying on Seattle’s gay men? What secrets is Sam’s Sicilian family hiding? And, more important, why do Sam’s unexplained disappearances always coincide with the full moon?

When the secrets are finally revealed, is Thad and Sam’s love for one another strong enough to weather the horrific revelations revealed by the light of the full moon?

Excerpt

Dinner at the Blue Moon Café
Rick R. Reed © 2020
All Rights Reserved

Music from his clock radio woke Thad Matthews at 6:00 a.m. The song, “Smokestack Lightning,” yanked him from a heavy, dream-laden sleep. Its energy forced his eyes open wider, caused synapses, eight hours dormant, to tingle, and made him want to move. Nonetheless, he slapped at the snooze button, silencing the bluesy wail, rolled over, and then pulled the comforter over his head. He was glad he had tuned his clock radio to KPLU, Seattle’s only all-blues all-the-time station, but he desperately wanted to recapture just a few more minutes of his dream, in which he’d found himself on the moors of England. All he could recall was that the moors themselves were appropriately fog shrouded and lit with a silvery luminance from above. Someone waited for him in the shadows and fog. And he couldn’t, for the life of him, know for certain if that someone meant to do him harm or meant to just do him.

He’d been having a lot of sexual dreams lately.

As much as he wanted to unravel the mystery of the dream—and to perhaps savor the vague sexual vibrations he was getting from it—sleep eluded him. He found thoughts of the day crowding in, preventing even the most remote possibility of a recurrence of slumber.

Thad sat up in the four-poster, rubbing his eyes like a little boy, and wondered why he bothered setting an alarm. He had no job to go to, no pressing engagements, no muse to answer to—hell, he didn’t even have an appointment for an oil change.

This day, like all his others, stretched out before him completely unmarred with obligations other than the requirements life imposed upon him, such as eating and going to the bathroom, which the erection poking up under his sheets compelled him to take care of. He called this morning wood a pee-on, because once he had put that particular need to rest, it most often subsided.

After stumbling to the adjoining bathroom and letting go with a flow that caused a mighty sigh of relief to issue forth from him, he thought once again that maybe today should be the day he looked harder into getting himself some employment—anything to put him into contact with other people and to fill his waking hours. Lord knew he filled out enough applications and answered enough Help Wanted ads on Craigslist to keep the officials down at unemployment sending him checks. But all his efforts, dishearteningly, were ignored.

It had been nearly four months since he had been laid off at Perk, the national chain of coffee shops headquartered in suburban Shoreline. Thad had been there for six years, in the marketing department, spending his days writing clever sayings for paper coffee cups and point-of-purchase signs for the stores. It was a tough job, but someone had to do it. And writing phrases like “Plan on Being Spontaneous” paid the bills, even if it didn’t provide much creative or intellectual challenge. It helped sell coffee, and Thad never kidded himself: that’s why he was employed there.

Except now they didn’t need him anymore. Who would write the signs for their special Iced Coffee blend?

He gazed down at the bubbling golden froth in the toilet and flushed it away, along with his thoughts about his former job. He turned and rinsed his hands under the sink, then splashed cold water on his face. Standing up straight, he stared at his reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror.

“You’re too young for a life of leisure,” he said to his reflection, rubbing his hands through his short, coarse red hair, which stuck up in a multitude of directions. People paid good money for products that would make their hair look as fetchingly disheveled as Thad’s did right now. He peered closer at himself, taking inventory of his pale skin, his gray eyes, and the constellation of freckles that spanned his nose and the tops of his cheeks. He flexed, thinking he was looking a little flabby around the middle.

“Workout day. I’ll head over to the gym today. I need it.” He sucked in his gut and let it out again, thinking it was empty and needed refilling. A Pagliacci delivery pizza only went so far. His slumber and active dream life, he supposed, had all but digested the pie.

Thad moved to the bedroom and began tossing pillows on the floor to make up his bed. He wasn’t sure why he bothered with this either, since it was unlikely anyone would see the military-neat bed except for him, when he would approach it once more this evening just to mess it all up again. But it was important to Thad to have a routine. Otherwise his days would blend into one meaningless chunk of time, formless, without definition or purpose.

It was becoming increasingly hard enough to distinguish Tuesday from Thursday—or Sunday, for that matter.

Back when he was putting in forty-plus hours a week, he envied the increasing number of friends and acquaintances who had gotten laid off during the economic downturn. The money they made on unemployment seemed like enough—at least for him and his modest lifestyle in his Green Lake studio apartment—and the freedom they had seemed worth the cut in pay.

But now he wasn’t so sure. The uncertainty of what would happen if he still wasn’t working when the unemployment checks dwindled down to zero hung over him like a vague threat. And the freedom wasn’t really so great, when that same threat prevented him from spending much money, lest he should need it down the road for luxuries like food and a roof over his head.

Worst of all was what the job loss had done to his self-esteem. Thad needed some meaning in his life, a purpose. That much had been instilled in him since he was a little boy, back in Chicago growing up in the working class neighborhood of Bridgeport, where his father was a cop and his mother waited tables at a Lithuanian restaurant.

He pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, padded out to the office area of his apartment, and plopped down in front of his laptop. He planned to check out the classifieds on Craigslist, then Monster, then CareerBuilder. When he was first laid off, he looked only at writing and editing jobs but had lately broadened his search to include, well, just about everything. Thad realized he would work retail, man a customer service phone line, groom dogs, or wait tables, as long as he had a job.

Yet the rest of the world hadn’t gotten wind of his eagerness to accept any kind of employment. Or if they had, they weren’t saying.

Before he went through the often-depressing ritual of cyber pavement pounding, he would check out what had happened in the world since he had stumbled in last night from an evening of self-consolation and vodka on Capitol Hill. He hit the little orange-and-blue Firefox icon on the dock at the bottom of his screen to bring up the day’s online news…

And was jolted right out of whatever sluggishness he was feeling. He stared at the lead article for that day’s Seattle Post-Intelligencer. A chill coursed through him, and he slowly shook his head as he read the details of that morning’s top story, titled “Brutal Slaying in Capitol Hill.” The article described how an as-yet-unidentified young man had been killed in an alley in the Seattle neighborhood known for its heavy concentration of gay bars and clubs. Thad had to stop reading for a moment to close his eyes because the gruesome details were simply too much to bear. His stomach churned. The man had not just been killed but had been literally ripped apart. Very little blood was found at the scene. And forensics had already determined that there was no trace of metal found on the victim’s flesh, which meant that the deed had to have been done with something other than a knife. The worst detail of all was the fact that the remains bore definite signs that much of the man’s flesh had been eaten. Authorities are keeping details to themselves regarding who—or what—the perpetrator could have been. The story closed with the usual cautions about what to do—don’t travel alone, avoid strangers and unlit places—when something so unsettling and violent occurs.

Thad exited Firefox sooner than he had planned and stared out the window. His heart thumped in his chest. Bile splashed at the back of his throat and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He had been in Capitol Hill the night before, having a dirty martini or three at Neighbours, one of the gay ghetto’s most popular hangouts. He wondered if, as he had made his way back to the bus stop, he had passed the killer or killers. If perhaps the killer or killers had eyed him, wondering if he would suffice for their demented purposes. He could see himself through their eyes, being watched from the shadows of a vestibule or an alley as he made his way back to the bus stop on Broadway. He wondered if he looked appetizing. He had been told on more than one occasion that he was “tasty” and “delicious,” but those doing the describing were not thinking of him as dinner—at least not in the conventional sense. He wondered if perhaps the only thing that had saved him was the coincidental passing of a boisterous group from the University of Washington, coming up alongside him just as the fiend in the dark was ready to pounce. He shivered. For once, rejection was a comforting thought.

Rejection, under these circumstances, was the new “getting lucky.”

Still, some poor soul had not been as lucky as he had, and today forensics was probably busy trying to figure out just who this unfortunate soul was. From what Thad had read, it didn’t sound like they had much to go on. Dental records, maybe? What kind of animal would not only kill a fellow human being but also eat his flesh and drink his blood? Was this a human being at all? Thad had heard of bears occasionally making their misguided ways down from the mountains and into Seattle, but they usually got no farther than suburban parks and backyards. And the “bears” that routinely cruised the Capitol Hill neighborhood were of a much more cuddly variety.

Surely, though, an animal couldn’t have been roaming around busy Capitol Hill on Friday night. The neighborhood, on weekend nights, was a blur of barhoppers and partiers, its hilly streets filled with people and cars jockeying for position. Loud and well lit, it was the kind of neighborhood that would scare the shit out of an animal, at least an animal with normal fears and inclinations. This had to be the work of a person, or people, right? And whoever was behind such a thing had to be majorly warped. Thad had a quick vision of pale-gray eyes and enormous canine teeth until he banished the imagery to the back of his brain, grateful for another kind of canine distraction.

That distraction had just sidled up beside Thad, her arrival signaled by a clicking of toenails on hardwood. Thad glanced down at his gray-and-white Chihuahua, Edith, staring up at him with her dark eyes. Her tongue stuck out one side of her mouth, giving her a both comical and wizened appearance. The dog was about a hundred years old, and Thad thought, for better or worse, she was his very best friend in the world. Edith got up on her hind legs to paw at Thad’s lap, indicating to him that he was not the only creature in the house that had to pee first thing in the morning.

Thad got up and, with Edith following impatiently behind, slid into flip-flops and grabbed her leash. “C’mon, sweetheart, let’s take a little walk down to the lake, and then we’ll see about getting us both some breakfast.”

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Meet the Author

Real Men. True Love. 

Rick R. Reed is an award-winning and bestselling author of more than fifty works of published fiction. He is a Lambda Literary Award finalist. Entertainment Weekly has described his work as “heartrending and sensitive.” Lambda Literary has called him: “A writer that doesn’t disappoint…” Find him at www.rickrreedreality.blogspot.com. Rick lives in Palm Springs, CA, with his husband, Bruce, and their fierce Chihuahua/Shiba Inu mix, Kodi.

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