Release Blitz: Honorable Convictions (D’Vaire #20) by Jessamyn Kingley

Author Jessamyn Kingley and Gay Book Promotions host today's release blitz for fated mates urban fantasy, Honorable Convictions (D’Vaire #20)! Read more about the romance today!

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Honorable Convictions (D’Vaire, Book 20)

Author: Jessamyn Kingley

Cover Artist: LJ Anderson of Mayhem Cover Creations

Release Date: December 10, 2020

Genre/s: M/M Urban Fantasy Romance 

Trope/s: Fated mates, enemies to lovers

Themes: Fate, love, second chances 

Heat Rating:  3 flames

Goodreads

 

Buy Links - Available on Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

 

To find love, two bitter rivals must start over or end their matebond forever.

  
Blurb 

From the moment he is resurrected, Mitchell Brooks is full of ambition and determined to win at all costs. The fresh recruit pushes himself to the limit and earns the title of Juris Knight, a highly respected position within the Order of the Fallen Knights. Mitchell wants to be the best of his graduating class, but the task is impossible because there is someone in his way—the man who happens to be his mate.

Pierson Murphy is brought to life with the gift of a perfect memory and miserable resurrection sickness. After three days of suffering, he begins his journey toward Juris Knight and excels, achieving perfect scores on every aptitude test. However, Pierson struggles with an inability to relate to everyone—including the man supposedly destined to be his other half.

They keep their matebond a secret and after weeks of discord, they are sent to different cities and go their separate ways with bitter confrontations their only memory. A century later, Pierson has a spotless reputation and zero friends. Horribly burned out and aching for something more, he transfers to another office.

His reassignment is the impetus Mitchell needs to end the fierce competition with the man he should have treasured, and he shows up on Pierson’s doorstep, prepared to start over. However, Pierson is ready to move on and wants anyone other than Mitchell. With so many barriers standing between them, is it possible to find love and honor Fate?



Excerpt


“Brooks, are you awake over there?” VK Ruarc called out. Mitchell snapped to attention, and his gaze automatically went to the blond standing on the mat. Sheepishly, Mitchell got to his feet. Unaware that anyone was waiting for him, he’d zoned out.

“I apologize, Venerable Knight. I was daydreaming.”

“Save that for after class,” VK Ruarc ordered. “Murphy needs a partner.”

“Right,” Mitchell said and stood in front of Pierson, who was staring at a point somewhere past his right shoulder. “You ready, Murphy?”

“I’m not the one who was delving into fantasy in the middle of class,” Pierson stated tightly. VK Ruarc left them, no doubt to give Wade some helpful advice since Trista had knocked him on his ass.

“Maybe I didn’t want to hurt you again, Blondie.”

Whether it was the words or his tone, Pierson’s eyes met his and there was nothing to read in his flat expression. “Let’s just do this shit.”

“Whatever you want.”

Letting out a huff, Pierson raised his hands and tried to hit Mitchell. It was easy to smack his arm out of the way and though Pierson was his mate, he refused to give him any quarter. Mitchell swung his foot out, then struck Pierson with a blow to his midsection. Staggering a few steps, Pierson barely managed to stay on the mat.

“Come at me, Blondie. Stop holding back.”

His mouth tightening into a line, Pierson charged forward but nothing about his attack was coordinated, and seconds later he landed on his butt. Mitchell reached to help him up, but Pierson slapped the proffered limb out of his face and bounded to the balls of his feet.

“Fight me,” Pierson demanded.

“Relax, this is supposed to be friendly competition.”

Pierson tried to get in a punch, but Mitchell moved deftly out of reach. “Everyone knows I’m terrible at this. I don’t need you to make it worse.”

“Make it worse? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Stop patronizing me by trying to help me up,” Pierson ordered when Mitchell landed a blow south of his collarbone.

“I do that for everyone, not because we’re—”

“Don’t you dare say it,” Pierson said through gritted teeth, finally moving quickly enough to shove Mitchell.

“Why not?”

“You know why not. We’re supposed to be focused on training, not that other stuff.”

“That other stuff is supposed to be the foundation of our lives.”

“You don’t need to talk so loud; someone’s going to hear you.”

Mitchell’s boot connected with Pierson’s hip hard enough that he once again slammed into the mat. For once, he had no remorse about taking him down. There was nothing wrong with announcing their matebond, and it pissed him off that they had to keep quiet for no good reason other than Pierson’s hard head.

“You getting up, Blondie?”

With a glare, Pierson rose. “I hate this shit,” he muttered.

“Well, I hate your stupid high test scores.”

Pierson nailed him in the shin, and Mitchell’s wince made him smile. “I’m sorry that you don’t apply yourself to our written stuff the way that I do. You apparently prefer to practice fighting.”

Mitchell was stunned speechless for a moment, and it allowed Pierson to sneak in another blow he should’ve blocked. Since the first day Pierson had achieved a perfect grade, Mitchell spent every available hour reading and studying their assignments. There was still some energy devoted to the gym, but the bulk of his focus was trying to get anywhere near Pierson’s results. “I am trying, Blondie.”

“Really? Because it seems like you care more about hanging out with your friends than worrying about what kind of assignment you’re going to wind up with.”

“There’s nothing wrong with building relationships with the other recruits,” Mitchell retorted, shoving Pierson to the edge of the mat. Mitchell was slightly impressed that he didn’t land on his ass again.

“It’s a waste of time.”

“You’ve memorized the damn manual. You should know that teamwork and camaraderie is an important part of being a fallen knight.”

“Except that it says that while on the job you need to be cordial and make overtures toward your coworkers. This is training. Not one of those people is going to be in your life after the next seven weeks are complete.”

“It doesn’t hurt to have contacts in other cities, Blondie.”

“It’s too late for that.”

Mitchell’s brows drew together, and he circled around the perimeter of the pad as he tried to keep Pierson at bay while using his obviously feebler gray matter to discern his words. “Huh?”

“Never mind.”

Charging forward, Mitchell purposely swept Pierson’s hands aside and hit his shoulder with enough force that he hit the ground. “We already have enough shit you refuse to discuss, Blondie. You need to stop hiding under your little mask and talk to me.”

With a ferocious glare, Pierson slapped his palms down and dragged himself up. “Why are you always ordering me around?”

“Me? You’re the one with all the crazy demands.”

“Crazy demands?”

“Yes, but I can’t get into specifics because apparently there are some words in the English language our mighty Blondie is refusing to allow me to utter,” Mitchell retorted in a mocking voice meant to resemble Pierson’s slightly higher octave.

“Stop calling me that.”


 About the Author 

   

Jessamyn Kingley lives in Nevada where she begs the men in her head to tell her their amazing stories which she dutifully writes it all down in what has become a small mountain of notebooks. She falls in love with each couple and swears whatever book she wrote last is her absolute favorite.

Jessamyn is married and working toward remembering to start the dishwasher without being distracted by the scent of the magical detergent. For personal enjoyment, she aids in cat rescue while slashing and gashing her way through mobs in various MMORPGs. Caffeine is her very best friend and is only cast aside briefly for the sin better known as BBQ potato chips.


Join her Facebook group, Jessamyn's Ruffian's

 

Social Media Links

Blog/Website  |   Facebook |   Twitter  |   Pinterest  |  Facebook Group

 


Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

 

Follow the tour and check out the other blog posts here

 

Blog Tour + Giveaway: Cash in Hand by T.A. Moore

Author T.A. Moore returns to visit on the Cash in Hand blog tour! Read more about the second chance paranormal romance, check out the exclusive short story and don't miss out at the $10 Amazon gift card giveaway! Good luck!

Title: Cash in Hand
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Release: December 15th
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Cash-Hand-TA-Moore/dp/164405891X
Dreamspinner Link: https://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/books/cash-in-hand-by-ta-moore-11787-b

Blurb:
The last monster died a hundred years ago. At least, that’s what the monsters want you to think.

Half-monster Cash just wants to keep his head down and raise his daughter, Ellie, to be an upstanding member of monstrous society. Even if she’d rather spend the summer with her human friends than learn the art of man traps at Camp Dark Hollow.

So the last person Cash wants to see is her uncle Arkady Abascal, who’s also Cash’s ex-boyfriend.

Arkady has more than Ellie’s summer plans on his mind. He’s there to enlist Cash to find out who’s been selling monster secrets. Cash hasn’t gotten any better at telling Arkady no, but it’s not just his weakness for Arkady that makes him agree. The Prodigium thinks an Abascal exposed them to humans, and now the whole family is at risk—including Ellie.

Recruited to help Arkady identify the culprit—or frame a scapegoat—Cash finds the machinations of monstrous power easier to navigate than his feelings for Arkady. At least, at first. But when things get bloody, he wishes romantic disasters were all he had to worry about….

Tour:
DEC 10 - BOOK GEMZ
DEC 11 - LOVE BYTES
DEC 12 - BOY MEETS BOY
DEC 14 - READING REALITY
DEC 16 - MM GOOD BOOK REVIEWS


 

Author Visit

First of all, thank you so much for having me! I’m thrilled to be here with my new release, Cash in Hand by TA Moore. Any of you who read Bad, Dad, and Dangerous very nearly got to read this in there. Cash in Hand was the first story I wrote for the anthology, the only problem with it was that it was...a bit long. It was a novel. So I was told to write another novella immediately, and Cash in Hand became a thing in itself! Which I hope you guys check out and enjoy!

For the blog tour I’ve written a short story set in the Prodigium world. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Three 

The vellum was butter soft and the calligraphy impeccable. The gilded edges were stiff and body warm as Dim turned it in his hands. He’d seen one before. Heard about them more than once from clients eager to boast about their connections as he measured their chests. He just wasn’t sure why Kohary had given it to him.

“It’s an invitation,” Kohary said as he took his jacket off.

Dim resisted the urge to tell him not to make himself comfortable. It would be suicidal, but the idea of Kohary at ease made his head hurt like someone had closed their fist around it.

“I know that,” he said. “I don’t know why you gave it to me?”

“I showed it to you.” Kohary took the invite back, to Dim’s relief. “So you’d know I was actually invited, not here to involve you in some plot.”

Dim wiped his hands on his thighs. “I wasn’t going to ask.”

Kohary folded the invite and stuffed it in his back pocket. The careless treatment made Dim wince and bite the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood, thin and tart and not at all human on his tongue.

“What if I wanted to kill one of the Abascals?”

“Not sure having to get a tux off the rack would stop you,” Dim said.

Amusement creased the corners of Kohary’s eyes without touching his mouth. It seemed more genuine for some reason, more trustworthy.

“Maybe I’d ask you to sew a curse into a veil,” he said. “Stitch compulsion into a pair of shoes.”

“I don’t do shoes.”

Kohary laughed. It was a surprisingly normal sound. The glass counters didn’t shatter and the rolls of brocade didn’t sprout rot and wither.

“A good thing I didn’t come for a curse then,” he said. “Thwarted because you ‘don’t do shoes’, how would I explain that to the Prodigium when they called me to task?”

He waited, like he actually expected Dim to have an answer.

“I could give you the name of a cobbler?”

Kohary raised his eyebrows. “You’d sell out a fellow craftsman, another monster?”

If it meant that Luka Kohary would take his tight jeans and broad shoulders out of Dim’s shop? Dim would give him a name, directions, and call an Uber. Maybe not the name of someone he liked, but that only thinned the herd some. Monsters, in general, were designed to be a solitary lot. They weren’t affable.

He swallowed and the spit in his throat clicked wet and noisy.

“They’d do the same for me.”

Kohary’ s eyes were very green, a glassy beer-bottle hue like a fly, as he studied Dim. Then he closed them for a second, and when he opened them again they’d faded to the dull moss colour of nature.

“Then the two of you are lucky,” he said. “I need some clothes. For the wedding.”

Dim stared at him for a second and tried to hang onto the confused tangle of doubt and fear that had ruled him so far. There was absolutely no reason for the Left Hand to travel to Roanoke except the wedding, or to turn up without appropriate clothes.

It didn’t work. The breathless, almost nausea of excitement shouldered its way on and settled down. The Left Hand of the Prodigium wanted to wear Dim’s clothes to the wedding that Belladona was throwing for her daughter?

That would make his name.

Kohary’ s smile reached his mouth again, a slant of cruelty to it as if he knew what Dim was thinking. And that he was about to punch a hole in whatever daydream he’d entertained.

“I want an insult in fabric,” he said. “Something that says exactly what I think, so that I don’t have to.”

Dim bit his tongue again, but his monster had roused under his skin. It wasn’t as scary as some. Not yet. Wait until he was Grandmother’s age. For now it was just an itch in his fingers and something cold and compelled in his brain that unfolded like a spider.

“What do you think?” he asked. He had to. If he wanted to finish the commission that was what he needed to know, and he didn’t have a choice in doing it and doing it well. Habit made him pat at his pockets for his notepad to scribble down notes. “What do you want to say?”

Kohary blinked. His eyes had darkened again, black and glossy as a beetles back. They reminded Dim of Grandmother, but the flicker of comfortable familiarity was deceptive.

“That I hate them all,” Kohary said, his voice like sand and glass in his throat. “And I think they’re all beneath me.” Something in his jacket chirped. It was oddly bizarre to see him pull out something as mundane as a mobile and check the screen. He looked annoyed for a second at what he saw and then dismissed it as he looked back up.

“Draw some ideas up,” he said. “I’ll be back in a few days.”

The protests stuck in Dim’s throat. There were just too many of them to get out all at once.

He already had a dozen commissions lined up, too many to add one more. Even if he had the time, which he didn’t, and he accepted the work, which he obviously would since no one said no to Luka Kohary, he needed measurements, direction, a clearer timeline for appointments than ‘a few days’.

Before he could sort them by order of priority, Kohary had left himself out. Dim swallowed the nest of words and made himself go over to check the door. It was already locked and he could feel Kohary’s magic on it, like worn soft leather and wire against his fingertips.

“Shit,” he muttered to himself.

That was a record even for him, from ambition to the gutter in under a minute. Dim raked his fingers through his hair and heaved a sigh. He should have known better. When the gods cursed someone they went all in. Too many generations to think about and his family were still getting the pride slapped out of them.

Giveaway


a Rafflecopter giveaway

LINK - http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/fef48b8164/?

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: www.tamoorewrites.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TAMoorewrites/
Twitter: @tamoorewrites

| Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Goodreads |

Audiobook Review: A Boy Made of Sunshine by Colette Davison

A strict Daddy. A sassy neighbour. Can opposites attract?

After taking early retirement, Liam is happy avoiding people and tending to his roses. Or he was, until young film star Felix moves in next door.

With his cheeky, persistent, and very naughty behaviour, Felix gets under Liam’s skin instantly.

Felix needs Liam to teach him how to behave, but will calling the older man Daddy be enough to bring sunshine into Liam’s life?

A Boy Made of Sunshine is a standalone gay romance, with mild D/s play, Daddy kink, a cute Dalmatian puppy, a ridiculous glow in the dark toy, and lots of brattish behaviour.

Listening Length:6 hours and 26 minutes
Narrator: Dan Calley


Reviewer: Annery


There’s something to be said about Truth in Advertising. Right or wrong it makes me feel like not everything is belly up. A promise made and kept goes a long way to warming my cold cold heart. Colette Davison keeps her word and Dan Calley delivers another warm hug to the soul.

Felix is 25 and on the cusp of making it into A list celebrity status but after being a child model and later an actor his whole life he needs and takes a break. Said break lands him, first time homeowner, new puppy in tow, in a seaside community in the north of England. Luckily his house shares a lot with Liam’s, a retired detective, giant barrel of a man with a beard close to his chest and a forbidding countenance. He also happens to grow roses and harbor a deep need for care giving which he tries to hide with growly monosyllabic answers. He doesn’t stand a chance in the face of Felix’s good cheer, easy disposition, and willingness to be cared for.

Can you tell I loved this? I listened to it twice because I thought maybe I was just feeling sappy given our current climate. But no. This is that rare story that manages to check ALL the romance boxes without dipping into made-up drama, faux angst, UST, or being ridiculously OTT. The care-taker Daddy and his willing boy aspect is the perfect dash of savory to cut the sweet.

Liam took early retirement because the world he saw as a London DC left him with a grim view of humanity but the Fates are kind to him and gift him with Felix (was ever a character more aptly named?). Felix is, as Liam realizes, made of sunshine: not syrupy sweet (though he is sweet), treacly, or naive but warm, comforting, life affirming, and a light in the darkness. Exactly what Liam needs. And Liam is what Felix wants.

I loved that Felix wanted Liam’s care and not that he needed it. There’s a difference. Felix is young and has had many of his day to day needs taken care of by others because that’s the nature of the industry he works in but he’s not incapable of doing for himself. He chooses to let Liam guide him and care for him. Perfect.

As for the rest? Some spanking, some voyeurism, some made to order toys and we have a delightful Daddy/boy story with the perfect balance of kink and RL romance.

Dan Calley is pitch perfect in the chosen voices for both MC. His American accent on a female character? Iffy at best but she’s only on page briefly so no biggie. The story centers almost solely on the development of the relationship between Felix & Liam and happily so. It’s like a two person play with some kinky goodness as a plus.

***Recommended to anyone in need of a little sunshine. All of us.***

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



Series Tour + Giveaway: Death's Embrace Books 1 and 2 by H.L. Moore

 

Welcome author H.L. Moore and Gay Book Promotions as they visit on the final day of the Death's Embrace series tour! Read more about the fantasy series and enter in the giveaway to win one of three eBook copies of Heart of Dust and Soul of Ash (Death's Embrace #1-2)!


SERIES REVIEW TOUR

Death's Embrace Series by H.L. Moore

Series Blurb

Doran had a problem, and it wasn’t that he’d been stabbed.

Doran Ó Seanáin, leader of the Black Lung Gang and former Foreman of the mines, is at war with Iole's City's tyrannical ruler for his brutal treatment of the miners. Doran is losing, badly, and he fears his relationship with his estranged daughter Grace will never heal following the death of his wife two years prior.

Nathaniel Morgenstern, an apotheker with a mysterious past to whom Doran owes his life, seems to offer salvation. But Nathaniel has secrets of his own that may just tear them apart before they have a chance to give in to each other. 

The stories are best read in order.

 

BOOK DETAILS 

BOOK 1

Book Title: Heart of Dust

Author: H. L. Moore

Publisher: Self- Published

Cover Artist: Designed by Damonza

Length: 59 000 words / 250 pages

Release Date: February 19, 2018

Genre: Fantasy M/M Romance

Trope: Slow Burn

Themes: Revolution, Addiction

Heat Rating: 2 flames

It is book 1 in the series.

Goodreads

 

Buy Links

Special offer - Heart of Dust reduced to 99c for a limited time

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

Kobo  |  Abbey's

 

Doran had a problem, and it wasn’t that he’d been stabbed.

Blurb

Iole City is in turmoil. Doran Ó Seanáin, leader of the Black Lung Gang, is determined to bring the Lord Archon – Iole's tyrannical ruler – down for his brutal treatment of the miners. But Doran has more to deal with than getting stabbed, a stalemate and city-wide lockdown that’s seeing his gang of ex-miners being slowly starved out of their base – his daughter Grace has turned against him, and the weight of his wife’s death two years prior haunts them both.

Things start to look up when he’s inexplicably drawn to Nathaniel Morgenstern, the apotheker with a mysterious past he owes his life to, but Doran is in way over his head. The fate of the mines hangs in the balance; the clock is ticking and the Archon is closing in. Doran’s plan to break the cycle may very well be his last.



Excerpt

Heart of Dust


Everything hurt.

This wasn’t out of the ordinary; Doran was accustomed to waking up any given morning with his head aching, his body bruised, his feet swollen, his bones fractured and muscles torn. But this time he couldn’t move, not even to open his eyes. He dimly wondered if he was hungover.

He felt someone prodding at his body. He grunted and forced his eyes open, regretting it immediately at the resulting implosion of pain in his head.

The culprit was a young man – a child, really – who yelped and jumped backwards with wide eyes, clutching a bandage.

“Sir?” the boy called out, over his shoulder. Doran flinched, the sound reverberating through his skull, and clenched his eyes shut again. “Sir, he’s waking up.”

“Leave us.”

The boy’s voice responded. “But –”

“Gerald.”

A heavy sigh. “Yes, sir.”

He could hear murmuring somewhere in the background but he couldn’t focus on the words. Instead he let the subtle but heady scent of pinewood and elderflower calm his aching mind.

There were light footsteps – the boy, Gerald – shuffling indignantly up a staircase somewhere to the right, then there was nothing but the sound of his own breathing.

His mind was so sluggish that an eon and a half had passed by the time he felt a cool glass press gently against his lower lip. A strong hand moved under the back of his head to guide him up. He managed a few sips of sweet, crystalline water. It tasted like it was sent from Lady Sionann herself to soothe his parched and aching mouth.

Doran swallowed, then gulped. Water spilled from his hungry lips and the glass was pulled away. He protested, or tried to, but the hand supporting his head guided him back down.

He realised he was lying on a table. It wasn’t hard enough to be stone, or cold enough to be metal. He could feel the grains of smooth wood beneath the tips of his fingers and against his skin, and his head rested on something soft. A jacket, perhaps, or even a pillow.

Consciousness filtered back to him, not quickly enough for his liking. Finally he managed to pry his eyes open.

The man leaning over him couldn’t have been more than a few years older than Doran, in his early forties perhaps, but if Doran thought he carried his own age badly, this man outrivalled him.

The stranger’s brown hair was peppered grey, completely silver at the temples; his face was hard, weathered and lined from years of trauma or poor life choices. A scar extended from the corner of his right eye to the middle of his cheek, destroying any chance of symmetry. Doran couldn’t call him good-looking, not by a long shot, but there was something incredibly striking about his features, in an offensive sort of way.

Doran swallowed thickly. “How long…” he tried to say, the words coming out in a harsh whisper.

“All night.”

The man had a low, coarse voice, like a miner after years of inhaling cigarette smoke and coal dust, but his words were soft.

“Shit.” Doran pushed himself to a sitting position. “What time is it?”

“Early, still,” the man replied, pressing his hand to Doran’s shoulder. His hand was bound in a black band of mourning, not unlike the one Doran wore around his upper arm. “Move slowly. You don’t want to tear those stitches.”

“Stitches –?”

Doran glanced down at himself, and his memory of the previous day flooded back in an instant.

His hand found his side, and instead of a gaping wound his fingers met a firm bandage. He also couldn’t help but notice a distinct lack of blood and – apart from his underwear – clothing.

“…You helped me,” Doran said.

“You were bleeding all over my doorstep.”

“Ah. Apologies.”

The man grunted, though whether this was in dismay or to brush off the apology, Doran couldn’t tell. “Stab wounds do that. You’re lucky it wasn’t deeper.”

Doran thought of Rhian, bleeding to death in his arms while their daughter wept. “Yeah,” he echoed. “Lucky.”

The man moved away, then returned with a bowl of steaming broth and two slices of bread. Doran accepted the meal gratefully. The broth was hot but not enough to burn his tongue. He found himself draining the bowl with desperate gulps, then attacking the bread like a starving wolf. It was better than anything he’d eaten in moons. The bread was warm and fresh, and he used it to soak up the last of the salt and rosemary broth from the bowl.

The man offered Doran a bundle of clothes when he was done.

“These should fit you,” he said, passing them over. “I had to burn yours.”

Doran’s heart seized, a spike of pure panic gripping his body. His hand shot to his chest to clutch for the chain around his neck, calming only when his fingers curled around the locket. He exhaled.

The man’s head tilted at the sudden movement, a small frown creasing his brow as the flash of bronze caught his eye, but the locket vanished underneath the shirt Doran hastily pulled over his body.

“Thanks.” Doran swung his legs over the edge of the table, wincing when he moved too quickly.

“I’d tell you not to engage in strenuous activity for at least a week, but I doubt you’ll listen and the Archon won’t care,” the man said. “Try not to reopen the wound when you’re working the mines.”

That told Doran two things – there had been no revolution, and the mines were still open.

He swallowed his disappointment. “What makes you think I’m a miner?”

“Hands.”

Doran glanced down at his hands, the cuticles of his nails and the skin of his palms permanently stained black. He clenched his calloused fists together and tried to keep his tone non-committal. “I hear it’s a hard life.”

“One I don’t envy.”

 

BOOK 2

Book Title: Soul of Ash

Author: H. L. Moore

Publisher: Self-Published

Cover Artist: Designed by Damonza

Length:  85 000 words/ 336 pages

Release Date: September 2020

Genre/s: Fantasy M/M Romance

Trope/s: Slow Burn

Themes: Addiction, Dark Pasts, Atonement, Forgiveness

Heat Rating: 2 flames

Goodreads

 

Buy Links - reduced to USD$4.99 for a limited time

Amazon US  |   Amazon UK

Kobo  |  Abbey's

 

You can run, but you will never be free.

Blurb

Half a year after the events of Heart of Dust, Doran Ó Seanáin now finds himself trapped between two worlds while belonging to neither. Held in contempt by the upper class for the turmoil he caused during Archon Bryson’s reign and resented by the miners for selling out, Leonora Darkwater’s bid to purchase the mines from the crown may be his salvation. But the offer is far more complicated than it appears, and the only person Doran trusts is the same man who threw his life into chaos.

Haunted by his past, held hostage by his debt to the Archon, and a slave to the poison that keeps him alive, atonement feels perpetually out of reach for Nathaniel Morgenstern. Too much damage has been done and too much has gone unsaid for time alone to heal the wounds between him and Doran.

Unfortunately, time is the one thing they don’t have as their lives collide once more. There are vipers in Arajon; the mines aren’t finished with Doran, and the sand in Nathaniel’s hourglass is running out.



Excerpt

Soul of Ash


He was led down a mining shaft illuminated by coal-lit lamps, until they began pushing through a crowd of murmuring men and women held back by other miners. As Lien and Nathaniel were permitted to pass, he heard a hoarse, slightly damaged voice murmuring reassurances beside a derailed dumper tractor raised off the ground by a few metal supporting bars.

“Just hold on,” he heard Doran saying, from where he knelt beside the tractor. “He’ll be here any moment –”

“Doran,” Lien said.

Doran turned.

The past few months had seen Nathaniel frequent the mines to deliver his wares or receive miners in his shop where he would be asked to render assistance. Trivial things, usually – scrapes and cuts, the occasional broken bone or beginnings of black lung. But since that day in winter, Doran himself had not returned to the shop, nor had Nathaniel seen Doran in the mines, no doubt by design.

“Good, you’re here,” Doran said when he saw Nathaniel. It was a warmer welcome than Nathaniel had expected or hoped for. “Can you help her?”

On the sooty ground, a woman, with half of her right leg pinned under the full weight of the truck, groaned.

If a woman’s leg been crushed under a truck in the glistening streets of the Bronze, the citizens would probably have thrown up or fainted or run away screaming. At the back of the cavern, the doctor was surrounded by men and women of the mines. They didn’t flinch at the horror scene that was her crushed leg; they’d seen worse. By the looks on their faces, most didn’t expect a happy outcome.

“I’d say good morning,” Nathaniel said as he too knelt beside the doctor, “but you don’t seem to be having one.”

The doctor had dark skin, betraying her as a member of the upper classes like the Harringtons, whose ancestors had emigrated not from the Valley but from the equatorial nations of Pontecorvo and Kedrossos, south of Vaison. She wore a circlet bracelet depicting the Lady Sionann, like many of the descendants of secular immigrants who’d made their fortunes did, embracing the culture of Arajon and generating both prosperity and poverty, while earning the disdain of the Valley population who clung to the old ways out of tradition or spite.

The doctor assessed Nathaniel as he set his bag down and pulled out the sterile cloths and alcohol.

“I don’t recognise this man,” she said to Doran, one hand braced against the tractor looming over her head, the other gripping the thigh of her right leg. Sweat beaded on her clammy forehead. “I know every person who has – nngh – passed through medicine at the Conservatorium. Who is this?”

“This is Nathaniel Morgenstern,” Doran replied. “He’s an apotheker in Methyr – the one who produces our remedies. He’s the closest thing to a healer we could find, given the urgency.”

“Morgenst— an apotheker?” the doctor spat. She arched her neck to glower at Doran through her tears of pain. “You’ve b-brought me some Helvetian herbalist! Are you mad? Those backwards fools didn’t even learn how to wipe their asses until a century ago!”

She was oddly coherent for a woman whose leg was currently crushed under a tractor.

“My mother had surgical training in Haderach,” Nathaniel said. “Her people discovered hygiene thousands of years ago. You’ll live.”

If anything, the doctor’s expression turned fouler. “A mev,” she muttered.

Doran’s hand clamped down hard on his shoulder.

“Mr Morgenstern is here to save your life,” he said, tersely. “Adrian, bring Doctor Lancaster some water.”

The one named Adrian scurried away.

Nathaniel felt Doran’s eyes burning into his shoulders as he examined what he could of the crushed leg under the twisted metal of the tractor. He cut the pant fabric from around Lancaster’s knee, and prodded his finger into the exposed flesh of the leg just below the kneecap, avoiding the bone jutting out like shards. There was no return of blood to her dark skin, and the doctor didn’t jerk with pain.

No blood flow. No feeling. The leg below the knee was as good as dead.

“Well?” Doran asked quietly.

Nathaniel shook his head. Doran uttered a soft swear.

“It would be better if the truck could be lifted so I can remove the limb safely,” Nathaniel said. “This area isn’t sterile.”

“We tried,” Doran said. “It’s too dangerous. The whole thing could collapse on her and crush her in an instant. She needs to be freed first before we can safely dismantle it.”

“All right.”

“How long will the procedure take?” Doran asked.

Nathaniel tilted his head at Lancaster. “Forty-odd years ago, the barber-surgeons in the Helvetic would hold down a patient and hack off their limb in thirty seconds. This was before numbing agents had been introduced, of course – time was of the essence for the patients, to minimise the pain so they wouldn’t go into shock. The wound would then be cauterised with either hot iron or boiling oil.”

“You barbarian,” Lancaster choked, “don’t you dare.”

Barbarian. That was a new one.

Surgery wasn’t his forte. He hadn’t lied – he could amputate limbs. In his time, he’d successfully amputated both limbs and heads, though the appendages usually belonged to different people and certainly hadn’t been for the purpose of saving their lives. If one was strictly speaking about life-saving amputation, his mother had taught him the technique and guided his hand through the procedure.

On cadavers.

When he was twelve.

“I can do it that quickly,” Nathaniel said, “but you’ll either bleed to death or die of shock. Caution over speed is preferable. Do you want to be unconscious, or numbed?”

“Numbed,” Lancaster said. “You have done this before, haven’t you?”

“Six times.”

“How many of your patients died?”

Nathaniel pulled out Professor Kaufman’s tome on Human Anatomy and Physiology from his bag and opened it to the chapter on amputation techniques. “They were all already dead.”



About the Author

H.L. is an Australian writer of LGBT+ fiction. She holds a Master of Arts in International Relations (2015) and a Bachelor of Media in Communications and Journalism (2012), both from the University of New South Wales.


She is a lesbian of Jewish and Middle Eastern (Egyptian) heritage, and is an #OwnVoices writer. She has been writing stories since she was old enough to hold a pen. She is the author of M/M fantasy romance novels Heart of Dust and Soul of Ash, Books 1 & 2 of the Death's Embrace series.

She has had two short stories published: “The Collector” in the 2014 Future Times Award Collection A Tick Tock Heart, and “Entente” in the 2020 Twisted Stories Award Collection Just Alice.


      

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: The Christmas Pundit (Laurel Holidays #2) by V.L. Locey

Author V.L. Locey and Signal Boost Promotions celebrate the release of the latest Christmas romance from holiday series, The Christmas Pundit (Laurel Holidays #2)! Read about the former rival to lovers romance and enter in giveaway where three winners will win an eBook of The Christmas Oaks! Good luck!

 





Length: 52,362 words

Cover Design: Designs By Sloan

Laurel Holidays Series

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Blurb


Will two complete opposites learn to cross party lines to benefit their beloved hometown and save Christmas?

Evan Griffiths is enjoying his tenure as the mayor of Cedarburg, Pennsylvania. While it may barely be a blip on the state map, it’s where he grew up, and he’s thrilled to be at the helm of the tiny rural community. With the recent election in the past, Evan can focus on his agenda to bring Cedarburg out of the fifties. Being the first gay mayor in the town’s history is a good start but there’s plenty more to do. His first big job is expanding the yearly Christmas Carnival to lure tourists to his fiscally challenged birthplace. Things seem to be moving along at a good pace then a ghost from Christmases past arrives on the morning bus.

As soon as Gideon Pierce returns to Cedarburg he picks up right where he left off back in elementary school—tormenting Evan at every turn. Only this time instead of shoving Evan down on the playground, Gideon is bedeviling him with snippy editorials in the local paper. Gideon is no longer the gangly, bucktoothed kid he used to be. When his gaze keeps touching on Gideon’s mouth and the appreciative fire in his brilliant holly green eyes, Evan finds it harder and harder to keep his mind on witty replies to Gideon’s cutting viewpoints.




USA Today Bestselling Author V.L. Locey – Penning LGBT hockey romance that skates into sinful pleasures.

V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, walking, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, Torchwood and Dr. Who, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order.) She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a pair of geese, far too many chickens, and two steers.

When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in one hand and a steamy romance novel in the other.




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Release Blitz + Giveaway: A Bridge to Love by Lee Colgin

Author Lee Colgin and IndiGo Marketing host release blitz for A Bridge to Love! Find out more about the sweet Christmas fantasy story between a troll and a wolf shifter! Enter in the $10 NineStar Press credit giveaway! 

Title: A Bridge to Love

Author: Lee Colgin

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: December 7, 2020

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 27300

Genre: Paranormal, LGBTQIA+, wolf shifters, paranormal, seasonal, troll, holiday, sweet, friends to lovers, slow burn, christmas

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Synopsis

Everyone knows a proper troll must never leave his post. Arlo is thrilled to have his own bridge to guard, though it’s a lonely job. A troll should enjoy being alone, but Arlo has never been very good at being a troll. He longs for companionship, but guards that secret like he guards his bridge.

Toby, a cheerful wolf shifter, serves as a messenger between villages. When his route is suddenly blocked by a fearsome troll, he must charm his way across the bridge. Little does he know, he’s charming his way into Arlo’s heart as well. But Toby has his own secrets he dare not reveal.

As the season’s fly by and the holidays approach, their friendship blooms and begins to flourish into something more. But can Toby risk his heart for a troll bound so tight to duty? Will Arlo leave his bridge for love?

A Bridge to Love is an MM Fantasy Romance featuring an adorable gay troll and the sweet wolf shifter who falls for him. Tropes include friends to lovers, slow burn, and hurt/comfort. Sappily ever after guaranteed!

Excerpt

A Bridge to Love
Lee Colgin © 2020
All Rights Reserved

December

Tobias

Adjusting his scarf to block out the chill, Tobias trotted along the path to Red Elk River. There, he would cross the bridge and hang a left onto the trail that led to the Fern Pack’s territory. His satchel was filled to bursting with gifts because it was the night before Christmas Eve.

A roundtrip to visit his sister’s family, one he’d made many times, took from sun up to sundown, especially during winter when days were short and nights long. Toby enjoyed his role as messenger between the wolf packs. He preferred spending his time outdoors. The exercise sent blood pumping through his veins. If he dawdled enough, the stars would keep him company as the path guided him home.

Snow threatened. Toby scented it on the cool breeze. He hoped the weather would hold out until he’d returned safely to his little cottage, but then he’d love to see his village blanketed in white for Christmas.

Toby heard the river before it came into view. The rippling waves of the Red Elk never froze over. The water simply moved too quickly to be captured by a force as fickle as frost. No matter how cold the winter, the wolf shifters could catch fish there. As a youngster, Toby spent lots of cheerful summer afternoons splashing along the moss-covered banks with his many siblings and countless cousins. The memory brought a smile to his lips.

His grin remained as he stepped on the footbridge’s wooden planks that spanned the narrowest section of the river. He ambled across, gazing at the rushing water and protruding rocks below.

“Ho! Who’s there?” came a booming voice from beneath his feet.

Toby startled and hopped back.

The rumbling baritone continued, “Who dares to cross Arlo’s bridge without first paying tribute?”

With unexpected grace, a large troll, his skin as grey as granite, climbed from under the rafters to block Toby’s way. He stood a head taller than Toby, with coppery-orange hair cropped close to his head. Eyebrows that could be mistaken for caterpillars drew tight together, and broad shoulders flexed beneath layers of dingy wool. His cheeks were flushed and puffy. But what Toby found most startling were his robin’s-egg-blue eyes, watery and glazed over as though he’d been crying.

“Hello, Arlo. My name is Tobias.” Toby offered his hand. “My friends call me Toby.”

Arlo sniffed and stared at Toby’s hand as if he had extra fingers that had been dipped in slime. After some awkward consideration, he reached out and swallowed the smaller hand in his giant one with a gentle grasp. Arlo’s warm hand felt so good, Toby didn’t want to let go.

“Well then, what should I call you?” Arlo grunted.

“I meant we should become friends.” Toby gave Arlo’s fingers a squeeze. “So call me Toby.”

Puffing out his chest, Arlo dropped Toby’s hand and roared, “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re playing! You only want to be friends to avoid paying tribute. I won’t have it, Tobias. I guard this bridge, and if you’d like to use it, you must earn it fair and square.” He crossed his arms and glowered.

Toby scanned the landscape. A lush canopy of trees on either side, chipmunks scurrying to their burrows, clouds overhead. Which of these threatened the footbridge of Red Elk? And since when did this bridge have a pouting resident troll?

“Guard it from what?” asked Toby, curious.

Arlo shrugged like that wasn’t important. “What will you give me to cross?”

“Well I suppose I must give you my apologies as I’ve brought nothing extra on my journey. And I would like to be friends. You look as if you need one.” He studied Arlo’s expression and saw a longing there that hinted at melancholy. “Are you quite all right, Arlo?”

Their gazes locked; Arlo’s teary blue eyes glared with scrutiny, even as Toby offered a smile. The troll glanced away and exhaled, breath wispy in the wintry breeze.

“Looks like you have plenty.” Arlo gestured to the bulging sack over Toby’s shoulder. “What’s in the bag?”

“These are gifts from my family and friends of River Pack to my other family and friends of Fern Pack. They are mostly for the children. I’m sorry, but none were meant for you.”

Arlo huffed and turned up his nose. “I will take your apologies this time, but next we meet you’d better have a tribute.” The troll stepped aside to let Toby pass.

Reluctant to leave Arlo alone and unhappy, Toby asked once more. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Perfectly fine.”

“You can come with me if you like.”

Arlo’s pupils widened. His mouth hung open.

Toby moved one step closer, within an arm’s length, his gaze lingering on Arlo’s face. Handsome features, though not typical: rounded cheeks framed an angular jaw, a sharp nose sat over his plump finely shaped cupid’s bow of a mouth, and upon close inspection, a smattering of charcoal freckles fell across his silver-grey cheekbones. Toby rather liked Arlo’s looks, except for the puffy eyes. Why had Arlo been crying?

“Go on,” said Arlo, the rough timber gone from his voice. The words now came in a gentle rumble. “I have things to do.”

Toby gave a little nod. “If you’re sure.”

Arlo grunted.

Toby crossed the bridge. When he got to the other side, he glanced over his shoulder to find Arlo still watching. With a friendly wave Arlo didn’t return, Toby continued on his journey. He wondered what he should bring back for Arlo on his way home.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read Universal Link

Meet the Author

Lee Colgin has loved vampires since she read Dracula on a hot sunny beach at 13 years old. She lives in North Carolina with lots of dogs and her husband. No, he’s not a vampire, but she loves him anyway. Lee likes to workout so she can eat the maximum amount of cookies with her pizza. Ask her how much she can bench press. If you enjoyed this book, pick up Lee’s debut novel Slay My Love to find out what happens when you’re attracted to the very person who want to kill you an enemies to lovers 56,000k novel available now.

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Guest Review: Mr. Perfect (Sinister in Savannah #2) by Aimee Nicole Walker

Word-slinger. Purveyor of truth. Jaded heart.

By day, Felix Franklin is an investigative journalist. By night, he produces Sinister in Savannah, an investigative podcast, with his two best friends. Felix’s life revolves around three principles: fortune favors the bold, honesty is everything, and love is for schmucks.

The podcast is back to investigate allegations that a local businessman is dabbling in money laundering. On the surface, everything about Cameron Spencer, aka The Auto King, appears to be perfect. The trio of trouble quickly learns all that glitters is not gold. Seeking the truth will challenge Felix’s convictions and put his life in grave danger. The biggest threat to his well-being isn’t an unknown villain; it’s the reappearance of his first and only love.

Jude Arrow had it all: great looks, charming personality, and a lucrative career as Atlanta’s hottest news anchor. So, why had he recently relocated to Savannah? When the two reporters are forced to work together, Felix will get a chance to ask him. The answer will stun Felix until he remembers not to believe anything that comes out of the heartbreaker’s pretty mouth.

Love and hate are two sides of the same coin and just as conflicting as the battle of wills that ensues. Will the chip on Felix’s shoulder save him from trusting Mr. Wrong or ruin his chances with Mr. Perfect?



Reviewer: Annika


We are back in Savannah with the guys and this time we are following Felix, an investigative reporter. To say he’s tenacious is putting it mildly – he will follow any thread to the end. Jimmy, his mentee, called him prickly as a cactus and he was spot on. But that’s also what drew me to him in the first place.

Anyway, this time he and his friends are investigating Spencer Cameron, a car dealer who seems to be making shady deals. The more they dig into said deals, the more dirt they find. Ignoring warning after warning they keep investigating – something that could prove very detrimental to their healths.

As if that wasn’t enough Felix’s first – and only – love shows up on the scene again, and man does the sparks fly. Jude and Felix have some major chemistry, and whenever they cross paths it’s clear they still have things to work through. There’s a lot of hurt to unpack, to mend it that isn’t done in a day or two – add some stubbornness into the mix and they had their work cut out for them.

To quote Felix (not verbatim), fourteen years ago they found the proverbial one. They fell in love, were blissfully happy, but it wasn’t the right time for them. They weren’t ready for it. So instead now they had to start off like enemies – at least on the surface. The old feelings were still there, buried deep.

I liked how tenacious Jude was, that he persisted and hammered Felix until he really listened. It wasn’t quick by any means, but I also didn’t feel like it was unnecessarily drawn out. It was true to colour for them both. It made their true reunion all that much sweeter. Oh, and I just have to mention Pete and Peal. They were so great and so much fun. Truly adorable – not enough to get a couple of attack peacocks myself, but I sure did fall for them.

Aimee Nicole Walker sure can craft a mystery with many layers and twists. She also managed to throw in a few curve balls, something I‘m always grateful for. There’s nothing worse in a mystery than you figuring out everything by page 20. I love to be kept on my toes, trying to make the pieces fit.

My one niggle with this book was that these were grown men, they’d been through things, seen things, but at times their dialogue sounded like teenagers playing wannabes. Sure at times that could still fit – bantering back and forth – but in supposedly life-threatening situations – just no.

All in all, this has been a good adventure, and I can’t wait to read Rocky’s story – I need to know the Vegas story. I just hope the wait isn’t too long.

A copy of this book was generously provided by the author in exchange for an honest review.



Blog Tour + Giveaway: Heart of the Holidays by Pat Henshaw

Author Pat Henshaw and Other Worlds Ink visit on the Heart of the Holidays blog tour! Read more about the holiday romance and enter in the $10 JMS Books gift card giveaway!

 

Heart of the Holidays - Pat Henshaw

Pat Henshaw has a new MM holiday romance out: "Heart of the Holidays." And there's a giveaway!

Everyone hopes his road to happily ever after will be carefree and smooth, but too often hair-pin turns and detours seem to get in the way.

Having thought he was on the road to forever before, former Silicon Valley programmer Dan Lassiter is leery about pedaling down it again. His elderly companion Charlie urges him to get to know Rick Reardon whose bakery is across the street from Dan’s bicycle shop.

Under the watchful eye of Charlie, Dan and Rick take tentative steps towards each other, all the while trying to avoid potholes such as exes, homophobes, and family problems.

As summer turns to fall and then winter, they hope that the road will be smooth going from their first date and first kiss to having what Rick’s sister euphemistically calls their “sleep overs”. At each step, though, they are tripped up and wonder why there seem to be so many bumps in their road.

Maybe Dan and Rick should heed some of Charlie’s sage advice or maybe they should listen to their hearts instead of the warnings from their pasts.

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Excerpt

Heart of the Holidays meme

The kids and their mom arrived after lunch, right about the time Charlie usually turned in for a nap. He gave them the once over as they got out of the car, nodded to me with raised eyebrows, and ambled back toward the house. I guess he figured he’d meet them sometime, probably sooner rather than later, so he didn’t have to knock himself out now. It was the siesta part of his day.

After the kids tumbled from the car and jumped on Rick, he pointed at my open garage and waved at me. I waved back, and they galloped across the street.

“Hi, I’m McKinsey! You can call me Mack.” The red-haired boy danced in front of me. His hair blazed in the sun and was as bright as his green eyes and freckles. He didn’t look anything like his uncle. “So these are all the bikes I can ride? Can I try them out first?”

“Yeah, but don’t go very far. I’ve got an app keeping an eye on them.”

“Cool. Bye.”

He didn’t wait for me to explain further, but ran toward the racks so fast that I thought he would barrel into them. A small hand on my arm stopped me from chasing after him.

“Don’t worry. He’s careful. He won’t hurt the bikes. We won’t go far because of mom.” Since I wasn’t worried about the bicycles, I looked down into brown eyes, a solemn face, and curly sable hair. “I’m Leslie. Everyone calls me Lee. My brother throws himself into his activities. I don’t. Can we choose any of the bicycles?”

I glanced up at their uncle who shrugged at me. The small hand let go of my arm, so I looked down at Lee again.

“Yes. You have three choices. One, you can select a bike and ride it the entire time you’re here. Two, you could come back to the garage and pick another one to ride for the day, the half-day, the hour, or however long you want it. That means if you wanted, you could ride every bike in this place in one day. Or your third choice, you could stay at the bakery and not go bike riding at all.” I winked at her. “I would choose the bakery except then I’d look like a human lead balloon if I did.”

She giggled and put her hand on my arm again.

“I like you, Mr. Dan. I think we’ll get along fine.” She nodded and gave me a long assessing once over. “Don’t worry. You don’t look like a balloon at all. Not at all.”

If she’d been in her teens, I would have thought she was flirting. But Lee seemed as if she was merely making an observation.

I liked both kids and their approaches to life. I’d be willing to bet Charlie would like them too when he got up from his nap and met them.

Unlike her brother, Lee sauntered over to the bikes, many of which were now askew thanks to Mack’s unsorting process. She carefully started to right those tossed aside. She stopped at a turquoise bicycle, hopped on, and waved to me and her uncle as she sped away. Her brother was long gone. The bike rack still needed straightening which would give me something to do while Charlie snoozed.

I started toward it. Rick had surged across the street and was striding up to me.

“Here. I’ll help.” He stood staring down at the mishmash of bikes. “If you show me how to untangle them without making things worse."

I nodded.

“I don’t get it. Aren’t you afraid people will just take off with your bikes and you’ll never see them again?”

I watched him bend over to pick up one on the ground. My groin tightened at the sight. We were going out to dinner. Together. Soon. My heart and dick lifted as my mind piled up image after image of dinner and afterward. It was about time for me to get back in the saddle as it were.


Author Bio

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Pat Henshaw, born and raised in Nebraska, has lived on the U S's three coasts, in Texas, Virginia, and now California.

Before she retired, she held a number of jobs, including theatrical costumer, newspaper features reporter and movie reviewer, librarian, junior college English instructor, and publicist.

She also loves to travel and has visited Canada, Mexico, Europe, Egypt, Thailand, and Central America as well as almost all fifty US states.

Now retired, she enjoys reading and writing as well as visiting her older daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren on the East Coast and playing havoc with her younger daughter's life in NorCal.

She thanks you for reading her books and wants you to remember that every day is a good day for romance.

Author Website: https://pathenshaw.com

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Heart Beats (Joker’s Sin #3) by Davison King


Author Davidson King and Vibrant Promotions celebrate the release of Heart Beats (Joker’s Sin #3)! Read more about the contemporary romance and enter in the giveaway to win a $10 Amazon gift card and eBook copy of My Whole World!
 
Heart Beats
Joker’s Sin Book 3
Davidson King 
M/M Romance 
Release Date: 11.27.20


Blurb


Their love story isn’t easy.

Every night Ledger stands on the stage of Joker’s Sin, the most popular gay nightclub in Haven Hart, mixing music. Many of the people who come through the doors want his attention, but lately he’s only had eyes for the red-headed bartender, Shane. When Ledger is invited to be on a panel at DJ Con, he asks for support from his friends at Joker’s Sin. To his surprise, Shane shows up. 

For Shane, Ledger is everything he’s ever been attracted to in a person. They’ve danced around each other for a while, but finally getting to know the intense DJ one-on-one, he realizes there’s even more to Ledger than he ever knew.

Then craziness ensues. Someone sets their sights on Ledger, determined to make him theirs, and he and Shane find themselves fighting for their lives instead of living it. Whoever is behind this will stop at nothing to get Ledger in their arms.

With people getting hurt and dying around Ledger, can he keep the one man he’s just finally admitted he wants from a murderous fate, or will someone’s crazed obsession end it all? 

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The doors opened and I was about to say something when I heard a roar. I jolted, hitting my back against the elevator wall.

Ledger started laughing. “I forgot to tell you about Lion.”

My eyes widened. “You have a fucking lion?”

Ledger was laughing so hard he had to put his boxes down. “No, Lion is my pet. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

I didn’t move at first. Ledger looked over his shoulder and cocked a brow as if to say, “Move it.” Slowly, I stepped forward into his living space. It was a huge open plan for sure, but I had trouble focusing on the design because every sound made me feel like something was going to jump out at me.

Once I got my heart to stop trying to beat out of my chest, and nothing tried to murder me, I took in the place. It was vast, the living room and kitchen one big area. The walls were painted slate gray and white throughout the entire area. As I moved farther in, I saw a wall that blocked off the huge space and assumed Ledger’s bedroom was there. When Ledger opened the mysterious door, I heard the roar again.

“Yeah, no. I’ll stay here,” I said.

He shrugged and went through the door. I stood there, waiting for screams. My imagination was picturing a large cat mauling Ledger to pieces. Maybe I should’ve run to the elevator—self-preservation and all.

“How’s my fierce baby?” Ledger was talking in baby tones, and I wondered what was wrong with him, but still, I didn’t move. “Come here. I want to introduce you to someone.”

I was about to shout to tell him not to bother when I heard another voice. “Friend or foe?” What the hell?

“Friend.”

When Ledger stepped out I saw a bird…on his shoulder. A flipping bird. It was gray mostly, with white around its eyes. I spotted some red below and I figured that was his tail.

“Shane, this is Lion, Lion, I’d like you to meet Shane.”

Davidson King, always had a hope that someday her daydreams would become real-life stories. As a child, you would often find her in her own world, thinking up the most insane situations. It may have taken her awhile, but she made her dream come true with her first published work, Snow Falling.

She managed to wrangle herself a husband who matched her crazy and they hatched three wonderful children.

If you were to ask her what gave her the courage to finally publish, she'd tell you it was her amazing family and friends. Support is vital in all things and when you're afraid of your dreams, it will be your cheering section that will lift you up.

Linktree: https://linktr.ee/davidsonkingauthor

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