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


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

To Bring Him Home and Other Tales - Warren Rochelle

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

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

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Giveaway

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

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Excerpt

To Bring Him Home Meme

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mama’s dead.”

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

Fletcher slowly and carefully nodded his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Author Bio

Warren Rochelle

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

Title: The Jock Script

Series: The Script Club #3

Author: Lane Hayes

Publisher: Lane Hayes

Release Date: Sept. 24, 2021

Heat Level: 4 - Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 250

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

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Synopsis

The nerd, the coach, and the hookup…

Asher-

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

Blake-

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

Hmm. I’m in.

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

Excerpt

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

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

“Sure, they do.”

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

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

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

“Says the devil incarnate.”

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

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

“Then why—”

“I’m just weird, Blake.”

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

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

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

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

“Yes. As friends.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Purchase at Audible

Meet the Author

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

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Instagram | BookBub

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


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

RELEASE BLITZ

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

Author: Abrianna Denae

Publisher: Self-published

Cover Artist: Sleepy Fox Studio

Release Date: October 19, 2021

Genre: Urban Fantasy 

Tropes: Soul mates, hurt/comfort 

Themes: Slavery, fate

Trigger Warning: Mild torture, suicidal intention & ideation

Heat Rating:  3 flames     

Length:  77 000 words/ 265 pages

It is the first in a new series

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

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Universal link  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

Blurb

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

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

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

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

Excerpt 

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

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

“Sit,” Mother says.

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

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

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

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

His breath catches in his lungs.

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

Since he got Sara killed.

Mother smiles a cruel smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Summer tosses him into an empty room.

“I’ve waited a long time for this.”

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

Summer and winter.

Opposites in every way.

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

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

Cherished daughter.

Good for nothing slave.

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

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

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

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

About the Author 

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

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

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

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

Social Media Links

Facebook  |  Facebook Group  |  Twitter  |  Instagram

BookBub  |  Goodreads Author Page  |  Amazon Author Page  

You can also email her at authorabridenae@gmail.com

Giveaway

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win 

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

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


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

La Petite Mort by Pelaam

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

General Release Date: 19th October 2021

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

Genres:

ANGELS AND DEMONS
CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
GAY
GLBTQI
HORROR
MÉNAGE AND MULTIPLE PARTNERS
PARANORMAL

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Book Description

The little death… Sometimes you never wake up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Excerpt

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

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

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

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

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

“Inspector Morloc—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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About the Author

Pelaam

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

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

Blog Tour + Giveaway: Dual Threat Love by Lola Noire


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

BLOG TOUR

Book Title: Dual Threat Love

Author: Lola Noire 

Publisher: Jessica Watkins Presents 

Release Date: September 15, 2021

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance 

Length:  53 000 words

Heat Rating: 4 flames    

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

Goodreads

Buy Links Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

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

Blurb 

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

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

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

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

Excerpt from the Prologue

Ace

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Looks like it.”

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

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

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

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

About the Author  

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

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

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Review: The House on Druid Lake by Isabelle Adler

A new city, a new job, a new home—things are definitely looking up for Oliver Foster. An aspiring young architect, embarking on a successful career in Baltimore, all he wants is to put the pain of a broken heart and broken trust behind him. The last thing he needs is another ill-advised romantic entanglement. But despite his best intentions, Oliver can’t help his growing fascination with Nym Brown, the mysterious owner of Lakeside Lodge.

When Oliver rents an apartment in an old Victorian house overlooking Baltimore’s Druid Lake, he expects it to be quaint and shabbily charming. But as Halloween draws near and all things spooky come out to play, Oliver becomes convinced there is more going on at Lakeside Lodge than meets the eye, aside from the faulty plumbing. His neighbors are a whole new definition of quirky, and his enigmatic, gruff landlord is both intimidating and dangerously attractive.

Dark and sinister secrets lurk behind the house on Druid Lake’s crumbling façade. Unearthing them might yet put Oliver’s future—and his heart—on the line.



I’m a bit conflicted here. I’ve enjoyed every Adler book I’ve come across, and when I saw this spooky paranormal come up, I felt it was total no brainer.

You’ve got Oliver, new to town, trying to start over in life and career and though his move is not the easy transition he was hoping for, he’s attracted to his gruff landlord Nym, and there seems to be a reluctant mutual attraction brewing. However, the other residents that live at Lakeside Lodge are a lot odd, there’s strange voices to be heard, and unexplainable goings on that give rise to goosebumps and paranoia. Things obviously are not what they seem.

So it’s a wonderful seasonal premise that had lots of potential but the whole set up fell somewhat flat as everything just wasn't explored enough - the kooky denizens of the house, the quick romance between Oliver and Nym, the awkward reveal, the awful conflict with unwelcome dramatics, and the resolution that was just too easy. For me. That’s just my unimportant thoughts as many others have loved this story and its quirky protagonist.

So I hate to be a bummer. I truly do. Assuredly, I am a fan of Adler, and she has written some really good stuff! I wholeheartedly recommend The Wolf and the Sparrow if you want a twisty historical fantasy or to start with Adrift if you’re jonesing for an outer space adventure. I’ll mark this as an unfortunate blip that just didn’t quite meld with my expectations, and I absolutely look forward to what Adler will bring next!



Release Blitz + Giveaway: Something Else by Alicia Thompson


 Author Alicia Thompson and IndiGo Marketing share today's new release blitz for Something Else! Learn more about the slow burn romance and enter in the NineStar Press giveaway!

Title: Something Else

Author: Alicia Thompson

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 10/19/2021

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 72400

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, romance, lit, contemporary, farmer, doctor, gay, bisexual, Australian outback, accident, slow burn, friends to lovers, questioning, tearjerker, out for you

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Description

When his father died, David Mulkerin gave up teaching in Sydney to come home and run the family farm in western NSW. He is driven by personal demons and family tragedy to see it through, despite his love of teaching and the ongoing drought and debt.

When David meets the new local doctor Martin James, there is a meeting of minds and dark pasts. Martin is intrigued by David’s closed demeanour and makes an effort to reach him. They strike up a friendship, able to understand the pain in each other’s past. When David discovers that Martin is gay, he feels duped and betrayed, but the revelation forces him to confront what it means to love someone and how sometimes we don’t get to choose.

Excerpt

Something Else
Alicia Thompson © 2021
All Rights Reserved

He’d felt the pull, but there was no pain. Yet. Only the livid blood running through his fingers, dropping to the ground like seed. Grabbing his wrist, he ran back to the cab of the ute, found a rag in the glove box, clutched it in his hand. The fleshy part of his palm just below the thumb was beginning to throb.

He walked back to where the cows were chewing the hay he’d torn apart. Shaking out that last biscuit with his good hand, he found the culprit. A jagged piece of fencing wire. Bastard. Better him than one of his cows.

By the time he’d driven through three sets of gates and juggled numerous gear changes, the pain was like a blade pushing through his palm to his wrist. He consoled himself that in his own experience the smallest wounds often hurt the most.

He ransacked the cupboard under the bathroom sink and found cotton wool and a roll of bandages. No Dettol. Reefing everything out onto the floor, he found a small can of antiseptic spray rolling around the back of the shelf. It was rusted and useless.

Still clutching the dirty rag in his hand, he headed out to the kitchen. He wasn’t much into hard spirits, so the ancient cooking brandy used for his mum’s Christmas cakes would have to do.

Back in the bathroom he slowly pulled away the rag. It grabbed where it had stuck to the wound and fresh carmine welled up through the rusty-brown muck. He turned on the tap and before he had time to think about what was coming, thrust his hand under. It was times like this he realised how limited his repertoire of swear words actually was. Catching him once, his mother had said, “That’s a lovely conjugation, dear, now take it outside before I belt you round the head.”

He could now see the extent of the damage: a gutter of open flesh, torn to a long triangle at the end, black in its depths. He glanced at the brandy bottle. Shit. He hugged it to him and unscrewed the lid. He was about to pour it when he chickened out and took a big slug instead. Then another. Gritting his teeth, he poured the rest into his hand.

Fang lay where he’d been left, staring through the screen door on the front verandah, his head on his paws, his ears pricked. The tan dots above his eyes gave him a perpetually surprised look. An anguished howl roared down the hallway. He lifted his head and waited.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Alicia Thompson grew up on a farm in country NSW. She has a Masters in Creative Writing from UTS along with some financial and accounting qualifications. She has worked as a bookkeeper, photographer, editor, adventure tour leader in the Middle East and China, business analyst, writing teacher and general herder of cats. Her published work includes numerous book reviews, travel articles, and short stories. She lives and works in Sydney. More can be found on her website www.aliciathompson.com.au.

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Dark Horse (The Braided Crop Ranch #3) by A.E. Lister


 Author A.E. Lister and IndiGo Marketing share new release promo for Dark Horse (The Braided Crop Ranch #3)! Read more about the kinky latest and check out the NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: Dark Horse

Series: The Braided Crop Ranch, Book Three

Author: AE Lister

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 10/19/2021

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 64100

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, BDSM, pony play, age-gap, entertainment, humiliation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, over 40, second chance, reunited

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Description

Adam Marsland has a plan.

He’s been managing the Braided Crop Ranch for six years and wants to bring everybody he can find back for a week of games, competition, and celebration.

Henry Swift was a ponyboy at the BCR during its very first year. He learned to trot, pull a cart, and submit to his trainer. He’s never quite left the experience behind and is excited to receive Adam’s invitation to return.

But it’s not only the Ranch and its sex-positive atmosphere pulling Henry back to the seclusion of the Muskoka wilderness.

Ever since their first frantic and lustful encounter in the woods, Henry’s had a thing for Adam Marsland and his memories of his tumultuous time on the ranch have haunted him for years. Adam’s still at the ranch, and now Henry can go back and discover if the older man has any regret for the way things turned out in the past.

But the gymkhana Adam’s planning means the return of a plethora of ponyboys and trainers and Henry wonders if he will have trouble reminding Adam how much they wanted to be together back then, and how possible it might be for them now, in the midst of the excitement and testosterone.

No one ever said love was easy, but Henry is determined to make the most of his chance.

Excerpt

Dark Horse
AE Lister © 2021
All Rights Reserved

PROLOGUE

Six years previous:

“So, Adam, what do you think?” Kamal asked, stepping back so Adam Marsland could see the Braided Crop Ranch’s very first ponyboy decked out in the gear they had chosen together.

I was that ponyboy.

My name is Henry, and I remember that day with the clarity of an unexpected revelation.

I had come to the Braided Crop Ranch to explore the world of pony play in an immersive environment. The BCR’s advertising had been so professional and the website so comprehensive I’d thought the place had been operating for years. I hadn’t realized I’d be one of the first men to experience its unique business model.

Until Adam Marsland had phoned to make sure I’d be okay with being a guinea pig of sorts—one of three men under the BCR’s three trainers—to make sure the gear and protocols they’d established would work.

The Braided Crop Ranch took pony play and exhibitionism to the next level. A place where queer men could kink out in pony gear, work under a qualified trainer, and perform in pony shows for paying guest members, the BCR provided sex-positive people with a veritable playground of possibilities.

Adam had been professional and friendly on the phone, his voice a soothing tenor, immediately putting me at ease and giving me the reassurance that whatever happened, the BCR was run by people experienced in the world of kink and pet play. When I met him in person, I’d been smitten with his movie-star good looks, his capable manners, and his prim and proper style.

After putting me in harness, tail, and bridle for the first time, Kamal Salib had marched me to the back porch at the main house and called Adam out of his office to have a look. Upon seeing a fully outfitted ponyboy for the first time, Adam had been silent, nodding assent to Kamal’s words about how the gear they’d ordered worked perfectly and how excited he was to get started with my training, while I trembled with excitement at finally being able to explore my fetish with men who obviously understood.

Then Adam had come down the porch steps and stood right in front of me, his gaze holding mine as he reached to touch the metal ring of the bridle on my cheek with a steady, calming hand.

“He’s shaking,” Adam said, turning to Kamal.

“He’s excited. His cock is ready to bust out of that jock. I think we need to consider cages instead.”

Adam’s eyes widened as I almost combusted from that suggestion. Because wouldn’t a cock cage make this experience even more humbling? Then Kamal told me to keep my eyes down like a good ponyboy, and I’d had to break away from Adam’s intense gaze.

“Expensive,” Adam commented.

“Worth it.” Kamal smiled.

Then Adam let his hand slide over my chin and down my throat, over the leather collar and the chest straps of the harness, down my torso and belly to the rust-red hair that brushed the top of the jock. “You had to put a ginger in the gear first, didn’t you? Is this Henry?”

I held my breath as my eyes closed at Adam’s tender touch and his lips saying my name.

“Yes. The others are in the arena. But I had to bring Henry for you to see.”

“He’s exquisite, Kamal. Do they all look like this?”

“More or less. But Henry’s the sexiest in my opinion.”

I felt a young man’s pride at that assessment and stood taller.

Adam nodded, and then his hand was gone. “I’ll consider the cages. Good idea.”

I stared at the ground as Kamal asked, “You still partial to redheads, Adam?”

“You know me too well, Kamal,” he said before turning and walking back up the porch steps. “Take him to the arena.”

“Yes, Boss. But come and watch him trot later, will you? I’m sure he’ll want to show off.”

I heard the door shut as Adam went into the house. Kamal laid his hand on my belly and rubbed the defined muscle there.

“Pretty sure the ranch boss has a massive hard-on right now,” he said. “I think he likes you.”

I made a sound in my throat and tossed my head, jingling the bit and relishing the realism of my predicament.

Kamal gathered my reins and led me across the grass. “We have a lot of work to do, Henry.”

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

AE Lister/Elizabeth Lister is a Canadian non-binary author with a vivid imagination and a head full of unique and interesting characters. They have published many other books, one of which (Beyond the Edge) received an Honorable Mention from the National Leather Association–International for excellence in SM/Leather/Fetish writing.

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Release Blitz: Sacrament of Sin (The Midnight Agency #4) by Matthew Angelo


Ready to get into the Halloween mood? See today's new release bitz for Sacrament of Sin (The Midnight Agency #4) from author Matthew Angelo and IndiGo Marketing!

Title: A Sacrament of Sin

Series: The Midnight Agency #4

Author: Matthew Angelo

Publisher: Self-Published

Release Date: October 15th, 2021

Heat Level: 1 - No Sex

Pairing: No Romance

Length: 30k

Genre: Fantasy, Horror, Science Fiction, Paranormal, shifter, urban fantasy

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Synopsis

Working as a paranormal private investigator has its trials. I’m busy, which is excellent, but there are more people, alive and otherwise, after me than ever before. The Other Side has stepped up their game. The Fallen are trying to strong-arm me into joining their ranks; they feel I’m the perfect person to aid in their eventual rise to world power, and they don’t give a damn what I have to say about it. Then there’s the Catholic Church. Apparently, they’ve painted a giant bullseye on my back. That keeps you looking over your shoulder, I’ll tell you.

Oh, and did I mention the bastard who abandoned my mother and me when I was born wants to repair a relationship we never had in the first place?

Just another day in the life of Rian MacCaren—that’s me, by the way. I solve mysteries, and I see things… things other people don’t. First, dreams plagued me. Now they’ve escalated to visions. Aside from keeping myself alive, my next step is to use my gift, or curse however you want to look at it, to figure out who killed the woman we just discovered in the basement of an abandoned house. Who was she, and why is she dressed in a wedding gown?

Excerpt

I heard laughter from the other side of the screen. It wasn’t the kind that speaks of madness, but the evil supervillain type. While I love the sound of truth, this sound chilled me to the bones and left me unclean.

“Sister Catherine…I should’ve known. As for you, my little angel, I’ll send you back to heaven.”

“Not today, buddy.”

A ripping sound hit my ears as a clawed hand burst through the screen and wrapped around my neck. It pulled me through the wall that divided the confessional. I tried to struggle out of its grip, but the preacher held on for all he's worth. Yeah, that’s gonna leave a mark.

I kicked at his face in the hope he’d release his hold over my throat. “Sorry, but choking isn’t my thing.”

The priest slammed me against the wall, knocking what air I did have out of my lungs in one exhale. I switched the safety off my gun and tried to raise it. Let me tell you that trying to fight for your life while being choked wasn’t that easy. I tried, though. Look at me being all optimistic and shit.

The father saw the gun. His eyes widened in anger as if the weapon was an insult to the sanctuary of the church. I may have had a gun, but I wasn’t a pedophile molesting kids and stealing their life force from them. Nope, I was a simple angel trying to get by in the world. By get by, I mean shoot the bad guy and rescue the children, thereby being the hero that saves the day.

Whoever the priest had become gripped me harder and threw me through the confessional door with one movement. The cracking of the wood against my back hurt, and the sound of screaming reached my ears. What hurt the most was hitting the floor and sliding across the carpet. I also heard the sound of my gun as it fell from my hand, bumping into something.

Movement from in front of me caught my attention. I attempted to get up, but the ceiling above me spun like a top, and vertigo kept me from moving too much. Massaging my neck, I could breathe easier, but the joy of still being alive didn’t last long.

There he stood. The possessed priest looked like a devil out of a bad CW series. Both his arms stretched longer than natural and ended in clawed, veiny hands. The skin on his face looked tighter and a bit like leather. The look someone gets after they tan in one of those cancer coffins too long.

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Meet the Author

 

Matthew Angelo is a part-time writer, dog trainer, and photo enthusiast in the Northern Colorado area. In his free time, providing he has any, he practices Krav Maga, reads, and continues writing. He has written fantasy, science fiction, and urban fantasy stories amongst others.

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