Audiobook Review: Following the Rules (The Script Club #1) by Lane Hayes

The geek, the jock, and a new set of rules…
Topher-

My friend’s brother needs an academic assistant and I need a job. Problem…jocks are my weakness. Seriously. I lose my ability to speak coherently around muscle-bound hotties. Oh yeah, I lose my inhibitions too—not a good look for a guy with a genius IQ. So what am I going to do about Simon?

Simon-

Finishing college isn’t high on my list of priorities, but my future in professional football is looking bleak. I need a plan B or C, and I could use some help navigating life as an undergrad. Topher is perfect. He’s also a little strange…but in a good way. And I like the way I feel when I’m around him—as though anything is possible. Maybe if we follow our hearts, we’ll find what we’re looking for. But that means changing the rules…

Following the Rules is a MM, bisexual awakening romance starring a lovable nerd, a cool jock, and some extracurricular fun.

Listening Length: 4 hrs and 50 mins
Narrator: Alexander Cendese

I will readily admit that I’m not a Hayes expert, and though I’ve had some wins with this author, I’ve not read her in years. When the chance to sit back and relax with an audio crossed my path, I said, why not?

Suffice it to say, I immensely enjoyed myself.

This starts off with happy go lucky Simon. He’s a pro football player on hiatus due to several concussions, anxiously awaiting for a call to return to the game that just might not come. Simon’s reluctant backup plan is to finally finish getting his college degree, but he needs some help with his classes, and that’s where his brother’s best friend Topher comes in.

Topher needs money, and what better way to do that than to do what he does best, and that’s being smart. There’s just one snag. Jocks are his kryptonite, and Topher literally cannot function properly when around them. It doesn’t help that he’s had a crush on Simon for years either. The arrangement in theory might be perfect, but it’s SO not gonna work. However, Simon is desperate and suggests a nonsensical plan - they’ll role play so as to focus Topher’s mind off the obvious. What it does instead is set these two up for some ridiculous scenarios that do nothing but incite absurd witty banter and spur their libidos in the best way possible.

I’ve only listened to Alexander Cendese once, but he outdid himself here. He imbues Simon with a brash charming pushiness that means absolutely no harm. Simon’s seriously the friendliest, laid back guy ever, nothing seems to phase him and though he’s a teeny tiny bit dim, he handles himself and Topher’s quirkiness with aplomb. In contrast, Cendese aptly portrays Topher with all his uptight fumbling clumsiness that endears you to his geeky stuttering as he spouts obtuse facts while being brazenly forward when it comes to all things sex. The juxtaposition between these two was fun, funny, and simply entertaining.

Let’s be frank. Regarding one’s expectations, just know this is obviously pure fiction in its utmost carefree form. Check your BS meter at the door, and come on in and get comfy! This is sweet, quite smexy, and with barely a smidge of angst, if you could really call it that. No in the closet anxiety, no lamenting anguish, no self sacrifice. If I’m gonna read a contemporary these days, and a sporty one at that, this is exactly how I like it and need it to be!

Overall, the narration only elevated this story with spot on comedic timing and gleefully increased the playful silly sexiness whenever these two were interacting. To say the least, I’ve never been so tickled by a Hayes book. I smiled, snorted, and laughed out loud.

Apparently, this is the beginning of a new series about Topher and his brainiac friends, and if they are as delightful as this first installment, then I’m definitely on board for more!

Release Blitz + Giveaway: The Mayor of Oak Street by Vincent Traughber Meis

Author Vincent Traughber Meis and IndiGo Marketing celebrate the release of The Mayor of Oak Street! Discover more about the contemporary romance and enter in the $10 NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: The Mayor of Oak Street

Author: Vincent Traughber Meis

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 06/14/2021

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 88400

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, age-gap, coming-of-age, coming out, college, political, friends to lovers, period piece, reunited

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Description

In the 1960s, Midwestern boy and Boy Scout, Nathan delivers newspapers and mows lawns. Nathan uses his cover to move about yards and sneak into the homes of his neighbors, uncovering their secrets.

In high school, one of the local misfits introduces him to diet pills, which help him overcome his shyness. In an amphetamine high, he meets Cindy, who he hopes will steer him along the “morally straight” path of the Boy Scout Oath he swore to.

Nathan is infatuated with a young doctor down the street, Nicholas (Dr. B), who embodies all the things his mother would love him to be. On one of his secret forays in Dr. B’s house, he hides in a closet and witnesses his idol having sex with man while the wife is out of town. Dr. B’s affair leads to tragedy, forcing the doctor to leave town.
At college in New Orleans, Nathan meets a group of rebels and expands his drug use. Marc, a bisexual Cajun charmer becomes Nathan’s first male sexual experience, but promptly leaves town.

Nathan has a chance encounter with Dr. B, who has moved to New Orleans. Dr. B is in a relationship, but still closeted. Frustrated by Dr. B’s cool reaction, Nathan goes on a six-month binge of amphetamines and anonymous sex. On one night of debauchery, he overdoses and ends up in the emergency ward.

Nathan’s near death rallies Dr. B and Nathan’s other friends to force him into rehab. On the way home from work, Nathan witnesses the gruesome aftermath of the 1973 Up Stairs Lounge fire that devastated the gay population of New Orleans. As a result of the fire, Dr. B’s live-in boyfriend leaves town, freeing Dr. B to explore his feelings for Nathan.

Excerpt

The Mayor of Oak Street
Vincent Traughber Meis © 2021
All Rights Reserved

The Sangamon flows muddy and rank through the corn and soybean fields of central Illinois, giving its name to my city and the lake it fills on the south side before continuing its meander west. One of its tributaries, the even lazier and muddier Harold’s Creek, ran practically up to my back door in its own journey through the woods behind the homes on Oak Street.

The afternoon sun filtered through the tall trees, warming my shoulders as I walked along the creek, imagining building a raft like I had seen my brother and his friends do a few years before. I would ride it down the creek to the Sangamon and into the Illinois, eventually reaching the Mississippi. The Mississippi would take me to New Orleans, a city memorialized in song, literature, and film as a place of wonder. It wasn’t that I needed to run away like Huckleberry Finn. I hadn’t yet learned to hate everything the Sangamon gave its name to. It was a boy’s fantasy brought on by the heat of summer and the mesmerizingly sluggish flow of water.

I heard a branch snap deep in the woods. I often saw hobos from the nearby Wabash Line wandering in the woods, and my mother told me I needed to avoid them, but I sometimes watched them from behind a clump of bushes. My eyes darted around the area and saw nothing. I glanced at my watch. Time to go. For most kids, these were the carefree days of summer, but I had things to do. From the creek, I walked up the hill, through our backyard, and out to the street.

Mrs. Sloan’s heavy oak door hung wide open while a screen kept the swarms of late summer flies and mosquitoes at bay. I put my face to the mesh in what felt like an invasion of her privacy, causing me to tingle from the top of my head down to my big toes.

“Hello? Mrs. Sloan?” I shouted into the dim interior of the hall.

No answer.

I opened the screen door haltingly and stepped inside. The door creaked shut, sounding painful in the silence of the house. I took a step, and then another. My legs shook. I peered to the right into the living room and left into the dining room. A force had taken control of me and pushed me on, my sneakers barely touching the carpet.

I went as far as the kitchen, passing two empty bedrooms on the way. Her purse sat on the yellow chrome Formica kitchen table, the keys to her Oldsmobile right next to it. Out the kitchen window, I searched for her floppy straw hat in the sunny backyard. She was neither in the garden where she often tended her vegetables nor in the lawn chair where she sometimes sat, large sunglasses on her nose and a cocktail in hand. I took note the lawn needed mowing.

Nylons hung over the bathroom shower curtain rod, hypnotically swaying in the breeze from the open window. Though we called her Mrs. Sloan, I had never heard of a Mr. Sloan. My father once complained about entering the bathroom and finding my mother’s nylons drying in plain sight. I wondered if Mrs. Sloan was sad living alone or happy she had the freedom to do what she wanted.

I should have been scared of her coming home and finding me lurking in her house, but a stronger force blocked the fear, a compelling energy moving my mind and body, making me feel impervious to danger. I continued down the hall to the living room, stopping to gaze at each of three framed needlepoint messages: “There’s nothing to fear but fear itself,” “A cheery smile makes life worthwhile,” and “You belong among the wildflowers.”

I had come to Mrs. Sloan’s door in my rounds, collecting for my paper route. She was a month behind in her payments. And I rationalized my invasion of her home out of concern for her welfare. My mother once said she wouldn’t be surprised to find her passed out drunk on the front lawn one day. My brother in high school sometimes came home from a night of drinking with his buddies and would collapse face down on his bed in our shared room without removing his clothes or shoes. One time, he ended up on the floor. Perhaps Mrs. Sloan had fallen like my brother. Perhaps she had fallen asleep in the bath and was at risk of drowning like I had seen on a television program.

I spent a few more minutes in the house before exiting through the front door into the calm and quiet on Oak Street. I continued up the block to do the rest of the collections. That night I drew a floor plan of her home, noting doors and windows. My brother called me a weirdo when the first thing I looked at in the Sunday paper was the page with the floor plan of a new house on the market while he went for the sports section, my father the news, and my mother the book reviews. I also scribbled notes about Mrs. Sloan’s house: the color and shape of her purse, the black-and-white photo of a somber older couple in the living room, the buff-colored nylons, the approximately twelve-inch cross hanging over her bed, and the needlepoint messages.

Before I entered my teenage years, I would know my way in and out of most every house on the block without being discovered. It was the Midwest. It was the ‘60s. Crime happened elsewhere. In addition to delivering papers, I mowed lawns. I could cross barriers, move within fences, and befriend dogs. Access. Getting inside the house was usually the easy part.

Everybody told me my paper route and lawn-mowing jobs would be good experience though I had no idea how much I would learn about myself, about others, about life, the good and the bad. I could assume the face of the upstanding neighborhood boy, appearing at their doors to collect subscription payments, smiling and making small talk while below the surface I was another person, motivated by desires they would never understand.

The second time I entered a home was as spontaneous as the first. It was the Pruitts’. While mowing the front lawn, I noticed Mrs. Pruitt lock the front door, take her two identically dressed little girls by the hand, jump into their Ford station wagon, and drive off. When I got around to the back of the house, I spotted the kitchen door standing open, beckoning me. I turned off the mower so I would hear if the car returned. I went into the kitchen. My mother would die rather than let our kitchen fall into such disorder; the sink filled with dirty dishes, and the kitchen table covered with open schoolbooks and scattered papers.

A half-full milk carton sat on the counter. I opened the fridge and saw a whole shelf of soda pop. I took an orange Crush and drank it as I did a quick tour of the house. Not much interesting. The rest of the house was as messy as the kitchen. I finished the soda outside, threw the bottle in the trashcan, and finished mowing the lawn. Before I went to bed that night, I drew a floor plan of their three-bedroom and put it in a folder with Mrs. Sloan’s.

I thought of these intrusions as accidents, isolated incidents that wouldn’t be repeated. But images of those escapades kept dancing through my head, enticing me to do it again. The rush of danger, the real possibility I might be caught, was like a drug. At the time I was still ignorant about drugs and addictions, but my body clearly knew sensations it wanted to revisit. I managed to stave off my urges for a few months. I turned twelve over the summer, and several of my customers who had heard it was my birthday tacked on a bit extra to their payments.

Lawn-mowing season came to an end as the weather turned cold, and we had our first snowfall. Soon after, I started receiving calls about paper holds for the Thanksgiving holidays. To me, they might as well have been invitations. I prayed it didn’t snow as the soft whiteness would show the hard dirty prints of my boots, a trail of my activities. I had to start thinking about such things: tracks I might leave, who in the neighborhood tended to snoop out their windows, or how often people left doors unlocked, windows open.

I made a point of being friendly with the dogs on my street as I knew my extracurricular activities at houses with animals could be a problem. The Jackmans had a golden retriever. I’d received notice to put their paper on hold for five days, making me guess they weren’t going to leave the dog in the house for that length of time.

When I did my collections the week before Thanksgiving, I casually mentioned to Mrs. Jackman that I had received the hold notice. People loved to give out information they didn’t have to. She revealed they were going to their lake house in Arkansas. Butch was curled up at her feet. He raised his head as she took a ten out of her wallet and gave it to me. She told me to keep the change, and I thanked her profusely while I tore off her receipt.

I reached down to pet the dog. “I guess Butch is going to get a vacation too.”

“Oh, yeah. He loves it down there.”

Bingo, I was in. After our Thanksgiving meal, Dad and my brother watched the football game on TV while Mom cleaned up. I went to my room, saying I was going to read. Nobody thought it was odd. In my family, everybody did pretty much what he or she wanted. Normally, after a Thanksgiving meal, Dad and my brother passed out in front of the TV, and Mom curled up in a chair to read after cleaning up the kitchen. They had all had a lot of wine at dinner, including David, who my parents allowed to drink though he was only sixteen, something about him learning to drink responsibly at home keeping him from being irresponsible when he went out. I wasn’t sure that was working.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Vincent Traughber Meis started writing plays as a child in the Midwest and cajoled his sisters to act in performing them for neighbors. In high school, one of his short stories won a local contest sponsored by the newspaper. After graduating from college, he worked on a number of short stories and began his first novel. In the 1980’s and 90’s he published a number of pieces, mostly travel articles in publications such as, The Advocate, LA Weekly, In Style, and Our World. His travels have inspired his five novels, all set at least partially in foreign countries: Eddie’s Desert Rose (2011), Tio Jorge (2012), and Down in Cuba (2013), Deluge (2016) and Four Calling Burds (2019). Tio Jorge received a Rainbow Award in the category of Bisexual Fiction in 2012. Down in Cuba received two Rainbow Awards in 2013. Recently stories have been published in three collections: WITH:New Gay Fiction, Best Gay Erotica Vol 1 and Best Gay Erotica Vol 4. He lives in San Leandro, CA with his husband.

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Blog Tour + Giveaway: Shiftless (Night Shift #3) by T.A. Moore

Author T.A. Moore returns with a new blog tour for urban fantasy series finale, Shiftless (Night Shift #3)! The author shares an exclusive excerpt of an exclusive short story written for the tour AND hosts a $10 Amazon gift card giveaway! Good luck!

Title: Shiftless
Publisher:Rogue Firebird Press
Release: June 19
Link: https://books2read.com/shiftless-tamoore
Blurb: Night Shift is the city's thin, silver line- and some nights it's thinner than others.

It isn't the fact he almost died last night that's thrown Night Shift officer Kit Marlow. He's used to that. It's the fact that instead of a werewolf trying to rip his throat out, it was his friend and colleague who tried to put him in the ground.

Well, 'friend.'

Now Marlow's been framed for a murder he didn't commit by a man who's committed more than his fair share. Half the cops in San Diego want to see Marlow behind bars for what he's supposedly done, and the other half want him dead before he can tell his side of the story. The problem is that he can't tell them apart.

There's only one person in town that Marlow can trust, even though he knows he shouldn't drag Cade Deacon into his problems. The sharp-tongued CEO of a private security firm might have gotten close to Marlow over the last few weeks, but taking on the SDPD is a lot to ask.

Marlow doesn't have much choice, though. If he can't clear his name before the last full moon of the month sets, he might not see another one. That'd be a shame since Marlow would really like to spend the night with Cade without needing protective gear.

Tour:

First of all, thank you so much for having me! I’m thrilled to be here with my new release, Shiftless by TA Moore, which completes the Night Shift trilogy! I believe it is still technically a novella, although it’s the novella that kicked the other novellas out of the nest and ate all the food!

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

Chapter Five

Habit made Marlow fight.

He drove the heel of his hand into the side of one of the men’s elbows. It popped the wrong way, and the man stumbled back with a strangled howl. Marlow snapped an elbow back into someone’s stomach, hard enough to make them grunt and loosen his grip on him.

For a second, the path to ‘out’ was laid out in his brain like a blueprint. He snapped his head forward into one of the men’s masked face. The snap and spray of blood through the thin knit fabric said he’d connected with the nose, not the teeth. They staggered back, one hand up to catch the ooze of blood.

Now all he had to do was shake the man on his right and head for the door. The plan petered out around that point, but he could work it out on the move.

He twisted around and threw a punch. His knuckles missed the man’s nose as he jerked his head back, but caught him in the point of his chin. The impact snapped the man’s mouth shut and made his eyes—the glimpse of blue visible through the eye-slit—water. He staggered back, and Marlow lunged for the door, swung open on broken hinges.

Two steps.

That was how far he got before a swung baton caught him on the front of his knee. He felt it go, a weirdly painless elastic snap, and then his leg gave way, and he pitched forward. The graceless somersault ended early, face down on the floor with the wind knocked out of him. A knee—whose he couldn’t tell—pressed down painfully in the small of his back as someone yanked Marlow’s arms back to snap cuffs on them.

“Fucker,” someone said, voice thick and half-choked.

“He’s Night Shift. Did you expect him to go down easy?”

The laugh was mean. “I expected him to be wearing pants.”

Rough hands dragged Marlow to his feet. A hand slapped his ass. The flashfire sting of it briefly distracted Marlow from the ruined throb of his knee. Tears stung his eyes, not because of the pain but from the sudden, deep bite of embarrassment.

“Get him out of here,” one of the men said. “You know where to go. I’ll clean house here.”

They dragged him out onto the street, past his newly restored car, and shoved him into the trunk of the aggressively nondescript car parked across his driveway. Panic was dry and tight in his throat as the lid slammed down, and a second later, the engine started.

In the dim light that leaked into the trunk through the broken tail-light, Marlow could see the SDPD branding on the TAC gear under him.

----------------

Read the rest of the story on www.tamoorewrites.com tomorrow!

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

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Taking Chances in Cedarwood (Cedarwood Pride #14) by Megan Slayer

Author Megan Slayer and Pride Publishing share the Taking Chances in Cedarwood (Cedarwood Pride #14) release blitz today! Read more about the opposites attract romance from the popular romance series! Enter in the giveaway for a chance to win: LOVELY GIFT PACKAGE AND YOUR FREE MEGAN SLAYER ROMANCE BOOK!

Taking Chances in Cedarwood by Megan Slayer

General Release Date: 15th June 2021

Word Count: 41,902
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 172

GENRES:

CELEBRITIES
CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
GAY
GLBTQI

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Book Description

He found his freedom…in Cedarwood.

Cain Ables is the it actor in Hollywood. Everyone wants to work with him, his movies make money and he’s handsome—but all that glitters isn’t gold. He’s lonely. Growing up in the glare of the spotlight with the stage parents from hell and being protected from any scandal—and real life—has left him empty. Cain wants freedom and experience. He also wants to come out. The man who plays by the rules is about to break them all.

Andrew Meadows isn’t looking for love. He’s at the farmers’ market to sell the fruit and vegetables he’s grown. When Cain shows up at his stall, he’s captivated. The more they talk, the more he likes Cain, but Cain’s got baggage—and he’s not out yet. Yet something about Cain makes Andrew want to take a chance on romance…and forever.

Will the farmer and actor find the love they both deserve, or will the glare of the spotlight ruin their future?

Reader advisory: This book contains mentions of homophobia, and controlling, emotionally and financially abusive parenting.

Excerpt

“This is the script that’s going to catapult me into the next level?” Cain Ables stared at his agent, Dixon Nell. “You’re sure?” Cain read through the script again. He’d always wanted to do an LGBTQ movie and stretch his acting abilities. He also wanted to finally come out and admit he was gay. Jesus. No one wanted their boy wonder to be gay. He had to be approachable and make people desire him. According to his agent and parents, no one would want him if he wasn’t perfect.

Apparently, being gay wasn’t perfect.

What the fuck did anyone else know? He was gay and very imperfect.

“You’re going to work with Liam Blackwell,” Dixon said. “He’s a good guy and careful with his costars. He won’t make you do anything you’re not comfortable doing. Just say the word and he won’t kiss you or anything without your being okay. You know him, remember? You met at the celebrity baseball game last year.”

“I remember.” Cain closed the script. “How do you know I won’t want him to kiss me?”

“Please.” Dixon rolled his eyes. “You’re being a maverick by stepping out of your comfort zone. This role will have award nods all over it. You need to do this.”

“But?” He both loved and hated his agent. Dixon could act like he cared one thousand percent for Cain and his career, then he could turn on him and be so scathing. Cain never knew which side of Dixon he’d get.

“But you’re not gay. You’re the it guy in Hollywood. This is going to be a big risk, but it’ll be worth it when you get the statuette.” Dixon grasped Cain by the shoulders. “You’re getting older, and while you can age in Hollywood, you can’t be the pretty boy all your life. You’ll have to age with the roles. You’ll have to mature.”

Cain knew that. He wasn’t stupid. In his thirty years, he’d played so many roles that he swore the business had to be tired of him. He curled the script in his hands. For someone who disappeared into characters, he’d damn near lost his true self along the way. He stared at Dixon again. “What if I am gay?”

Dixon burst out laughing. “You’re not gay. Confused, maybe, and intrigued by this role, but you’re not gay.” He shook his head and continued laughing. “God, if you were really gay, you’d have come out by now and you’d be chasing Penn. That kid will fuck anything who asks.”

Cain glared at Dixon as he walked away. What an asshole. I’d be chasing Penn. Who does Dixon think he is? Dixon knew lots about the business, but nothing about dating or relationships. He certainly knew nothing about Cain. Penn wasn’t Cain’s type. Too pushy and way too young.

“Hey.” Penn strutted up to Cain. “I hear you’re working with Liam Blackwell and going to Cedarwood to make a movie.” He rubbed his hands together. “There’s not much to do in Cedarwood. It’s small, boring, dull…” His eyes flashed. “You could always take an assistant or two with you. I’ll bet Lucia would go along. She wants more exposure.”

He shook his head. Penn was not his type. He’d kept his preferences to himself, but honed them over the years. He wanted a man with muscles, a forthright attitude, who wasn’t afraid of manual labor and looked good in a baseball cap. Penn wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he had to wear a T-shirt and jeans for a living. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.” Penn grinned. His green eyes glittered and the smattering of hairs on his chin belied his age. He rested his hands on his narrow hips. “Interested? I’m game to go to Cedarwood. I bet we could have a great time. I’d keep my mouth shut.”

His stomach churned. Is Penn coming on to me? He hadn’t come out yet and was already being propositioned. Penn would keep quiet for a hefty price. “No thanks.”

“You’re sure?” Penn rubbed Cain’s thigh. “You don’t know what you want until you can’t have it.”

“I’m okay.” He left the chair and squeezed the script in his hand. He’d agreed to do the movie and agreed to film in Cedarwood. Maybe it was time to head out to Ohio and find himself. He knew damn well he was gay, but he had to decide what he wanted out of life. Did he want to come out? Could he live his life in the closet?

He massaged his forehead and continued walking away from Penn. In some ways, the man was attractive. He also offered an interesting proposition—he could be the first lover Cain wanted without having strings…unless he counted the financial ones. Penn would attempt to bleed him dry. If he wasn’t begging for money, he’d take him to court or wring him out in the tabloids.

His stomach churned harder. In the last year, Cain had fought the twisting ache in his belly and the fear he’d be found out. He was gay. No question. He’d dated starlets and had been with women, but he’d rather be looking at their dates or admiring another certain actor’s ass.

He was supposed to be the guy every woman wanted to fuck and the man the guys wanted to hang out with—attainable, even if he wasn’t going to be anywhere near most of his fans. His parents made sure he stayed as isolated as possible. Maybe that was his problem. He needed to get out from under their thumb. He’d been under it for long enough.

The limo waited at the side door of the offices. The driver opened the door for him and ensured Cain was ensconced in the back seat. The scent of rich leather swirled around Cain, and the darkened windows of the vehicle ensured no one would see him. He could move around without anyone knowing he was there. A ghost of himself.

He unrolled the script and read through the first three pages again. Two men, quiet romance, small town and everyone rooting for them. He needed to do this movie. If he did, he’d get to go on location. His parents wouldn’t follow him to Ohio. They detested anywhere that wasn’t Beverly Hills. He’d go to Ohio, read, relax and be a human being. Yeah, he’d do this movie. He’d do the hell out of it. If he happened to grow as a person or found a lover, then even better. First, he had to get the fuck out of California and be on his own.

The vehicle lurched and swerved, then stopped. He had no idea how long he’d been in the back or where he was, but he assumed the driver had taken him home. He might be a big celebrity and wanted by millions, but he had little free will.

The door opened and a valet gestured to him. “Good afternoon, Mr. Ables.”

“Hello.” He didn’t recognize this valet. “Where’s Green?”

“Reassigned, sir.” The valet closed the limo door. “Your mother requests your presence.”

“Thanks.” He patted the valet on the arm. The guy was only doing his job. Cain’s mother and father insisted on orchestrating his life as much as possible. He knew damn well why—if he stopped working or fell out of favor, they’d lose their funding. He’d kept the family afloat nearly his entire life.

He strode through the house to the massive living room. The opulence and expense of the place suffocated him. Everywhere he looked, he recognized something bought with the money he’d made over his career. His parents hadn’t worked for a damn thing.

His mother lounged on the expansive couch. She had pillows around her and a magazine on her lap. She flipped through the pages. “You’re home.”

“I am.” He didn’t sit. Not now. He couldn’t relax. “Reading anything important?”

“You’re featured in this magazine.” She held up the periodical. “I see you’re with Aidyn Malachi. Good. She’s up-and-coming. You need to be seen with someone fresh.”

“I do.” Someone who isn’t a starlet.

“You look like you’re upset.” His father stood by the bar. He sipped a brandy and crossed his ankles. “Something on your mind?”

He shored up his courage. He had no plan to get to Cedarwood. No money of his own. Fuck it. He’d figure something out. Rami had always been good for a favor. He’d call his best friend to get him to the airport. “I’m leaving.”

“You are?” His father laughed. “Christ. You have no idea how to live on your own. Where in the fuck do you think you’re going? You can’t handle life without us guiding you.”

His father was such a stereotype—elbow-bending closet drunk pretending to be macho and perfect, all while he’d lost control. His wife had cheated on him multiple times. He’d cheated on her, too, and Cain swore he had a sibling somewhere he knew nothing about. The odds were in his favor for the assumption to be true. Cain gritted his teeth. “I’m being called out for a movie and need to go on location. Plain and simple. I don’t need a babysitter. Remember? I’m thirty years old. I can handle my life.” Maybe, but maybe not. He’d never actually lived on his own. He’d been given spending money and the catering trucks made sure he was fed.

“You’re not going.” His mother didn’t look up from the magazine. “You aren’t ready.” She pointed to an image of Cain tangled up with Aidyn in a bed. Both looked disheveled and sated after sex. “This is what you should be doing. Marry her. Or fake it. The public needs more of these pictures.”

He rolled his eyes. The photoshoot had been a gigantic disaster. Aidyn had cried half the time, wanting her actual boyfriend, and the photographer had pushed him and Aidyn to look more in love than they’d ever be. No one wanted to see fake pictures.

“If you’re going, then you’ll have your full treatment of servants and the corps. I won’t have you making an ass of yourself.” His father slashed his hand through the air. “You’re not a child, no, but you’re not smart enough to be on your own. You can memorize lines and channel characters, but anyone can do that.”

He groaned. If I pack a small bag, I could take one of the sports cars and drive there, right? Nah. His parents probably had trackers on the cars. He nodded to hide his frustration. “I suppose you’re right.” He turned on his heel and headed up to his bedroom.

Wouldn’t his fellow actors laugh? He still lived with his parents in the house he’d bought for them when he’d made his first television show at age five. He couldn’t bring a lover home—male or female. What would he say? Mom, Dad? I need you to go so I can fuck this lovely person. Right.

Cain shoved his wallet, license, some money he’d squirreled away over the last year, two changes of clothes, an extra pair of shoes and the stuffed cat he’d had since he was a baby into a knapsack. If he was going to blow up his home life, he refused to leave the last vestige of his childhood in the hands of his parents. The stuffed cat might look like hell and have almost no fur left, but he gave Cain more comfort than anyone. He swept his gaze around his room. Even his bedroom had no personality. It could be the room of any celebrity—perfect decor, nothing to denote that he lived there and nothing out of place.

The churning in his stomach increased. If he didn’t get the fuck out of the house and away from his life for a while, he’d have a huge-ass ulcer. The stress of living a life he didn’t want had gotten to him. The doctor on the set of Victor’s Rules had urged him to get some rest. Why not do it now?

He deserved to live the life he wanted.

Cain hurried down the back steps clutching his bag. The valet from before stood by the doors leading to the garage.

“Sir?” He opened the door for Cain. “Going out?”

“To Aidyn’s.” Cain winked. “You know.”

“I used to.” The man smiled. “Shall I let your mother in on this?”

“Please do. I’ll be over there for a few days.” He winked again and elbowed the valet. “We don’t plan on coming up for air in that time.” God, he was laying it on thick.

“Yes, sir.” The valet dispatched a driver, then disappeared into the main portion of the house.

Cain slipped into the back seat of the limo and waited until the car moved. His heart hammered. He was doing it—leaving the nest. He’d lied, of course, but that didn’t matter. Fuck it. His hands shook and he held the bag tight. He’d never acted out before, never tried to be something he wasn’t or push anyone. He’d fallen right into line because it had been required of him.

The driver dropped him off at Aidyn’s hotel. Instead of expecting the car to wait on him, Cain waved him home. “Get some rest. God knows I won’t be.” He grinned. “I’ll call for you.”

The driver nodded once and left.

Cain ducked into the hotel. He’d never stayed at this particular building and hoped no one would recognize him without his Cain Ables celebrity persona in place. He was just Cain Ables, regular guy.

He headed through the lobby to the side entrance. An attendant smiled at him. “May I help you, sir?”

“I’d like a taxi to the airport.” Holy fuck. He was doing this. “Please?”

“Sure.” The attendant waved down one of the drivers. “May I help you with anything else?”

“No, thank you.” He shook hands with the man and settled into the back seat of the taxi. As the car sped toward the airport, Cain sighed. He’d really escaped. His parents would be thrilled when they found out he was at the hotel with a woman. He was being the bad-boy actor everyone expected.

Except he wasn’t bad and he wasn’t with a woman. Fear and doubt crept into his brain. Part of him wasn’t sure he could get away with his act of transgression. The rest of him couldn’t wait to get to Ohio and be a nobody.

Time to be myself.

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About the Author

Megan Slayer

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

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

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

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Blog Tour + Giveaway: Jorah: The Brinnswick Chronicles IV by Michele Notaro

Author Michele Notaro and Vibrant Promotions drop by with the Jorah: The Brinnswick Chronicles IV blog tour! Find out more about the latest in the popular series and enter in the giveaway!

 

Jorah: The Brinnswick Chronicles IV

Michele Notaro

M/M Paranormal Romance

Release Date: 05.18.21

Cover designer: Soxsational Cover Art

Blurb

Will Jorah have a chance to fall in love with the person his soul is longing for, or will the horrors of the world keep them apart?

When I was fourteen, I was sucked through a portal to another realm—the land of the fae—and forced to live there for three years. Crazy, right? Welcome to my world. Being an Ellwood means being pulled into the craziest and most dangerous situations while trying to protect the people around you. But I wouldn’t change it for anything.

For years, every time I visit the land of the fae, something seems to pull me toward the north. Naturally, it’s the most dangerous place in all of Faela, so my family forbids me to travel there. But now I know something is wrong, and I find myself unable to ignore the call I feel deep down in my soul. The peaceful feeling I normally get from the north is gone, replaced with nothing but fear and sorrow. 

I know in my heart that the pull I’m feeling is from my viramore—my soulmate—and I’m afraid I might be too late to save him. If I do make it there in time, what kind of condition will I find him in? I can feel that he’s hurt, grieving, and simply waiting to fade away, and I’m too far to help. He’s in danger, I know he is, and I’m not sure if I’ll be able to keep him safe from the evil creatures hunting him.

Jorah is a 107K word novel and the fourth book in The Brinnswick Chronicles. It can be read as a standalone novel, although it’s better to read the series in order to get a better feel for the characters and the larger story arc. This MM paranormal romance contains explicit material and is intended for mature adults 18 years old and older.

Universal Link: https://books2read.com/u/47NnEa

Excerpt

Jorah~

“Tell me.” He turned back to me. “Jorah of the Ellwood Coven, where is this pretty forest located? The Emerald Expanse, perhaps? It’s very green, although nothing is as green as those eyes of yours.” 

Warmth filtered into my chest at the compliment, and I swallowed, then hesitantly made my way closer to him. “This forest is in the human realm, not in Faela.” 

He barked out a laugh. “I suppose my imagination is pulling out all the stops to distract me.” 

“Distract you from what?” 

He frowned, his voice coming out as a whisper. “The pain.” 

A sharp pain pierced my heart. “I’m sorry, love. I’m trying to get to you as fast as I can.” The endearment slipped out, but it felt natural. 

A sad smile graced his lips as he sighed. “If only that were true, pretty witch. If only that were true.” 

“It is.” Trusting my gut, I moved closer to him and placed my hand on his forearm. 

The pretty man gasped and met my eyes, breathing out, “You feel real.” 

“I am real,” I insisted, trying not to focus too hard on how amazing his skin felt under my hand. “I’m real, and I’m on my way.” 

“But you live in the human realm,” he whispered, his voice shaky. 

“I do, but I have a home in Faela. My family and I are on a ship, sailing north from the Pink Isle, sailing to you.” 

His pretty blue eyes filled with tears, and he backed away, forcing my hand to release him. “It’s kind of cruel for my mind to wave a pretty boy making impossible promises right in front of me, isn’t it? Am I not suffering enough in life that I have to suffer in my dreams as well?” 

“But—” 

He cried out in pain, cutting me off, and I rushed forward, catching him before he could fall to the ground. A whimpering whine came out of his throat, and I expected him to push me away again, but instead, he curled into me. Without hesitation, I scooped him into my arms, sat on the ground, and held him in my lap as he began crying silently. 

After a few minutes, he whispered in a hoarse voice, “They’re hurting me… again.”

My eyes filled with tears as I rocked him and ran my hand over his hair, whispering, “Shh. I’ve got you, love. I’m here.” 

“It hurts. Everything hurts,” he murmured. 

That sharp pain pierced my heart again, and I hugged him to me, resting my cheek against his hair. “Do you… do you know what’s happening?” 

“They like the way my blood tastes.” 

Bile threatened to fill me as a long-lost memory, or the memory of an old vision filled my head. With a start, I realized that the man in my arms was the same one that had been caught in that net and forced to watch his younger brother die and get—nope, not going down that road. 

Instead, I said, “I’m sorry. I’m trying to get to you.” 

He whimpered again. 

“What can I do, love? How can I help?” 

He was quiet for a long time before he whispered, “Stay with me until I wake up.” He cleared his throat. “Even if you’re not real, I don’t feel so alone with you right here.” 

I pressed my lips to his hair, speaking against him. “I’ll stay as long as you want. You never have to be alone again.” 

A long, sad whine came out of him, sounding almost like a song rather than crying, although it was a heartbreaking sound. It made tears spring to my eyes as I continued rocking him and petting his hair. 

A long time passed with us like that. Me holding him, and him whimpering or singing his sad song or simply sitting in my arms, not saying anything at all. But eventually, I felt him being tugged from my arms, and a new kind of panic reached my chest. “No, don’t go.” 

“Don’t have a choice,” he said through clenched teeth. “They’re waking me.” 

“No, please.” Tears filled my eyes again. “You can’t go.” 

“Maybe I’ll see you again one day, Jorah of the Ellwood Coven.” 

The tears spilled over onto my cheeks. “You never told me your name.” 

A sad smile tugged his lips upward. “No, I didn’t, did I?” His face grew serious again before he placed his hand on my cheek. “Thank you for offering me comfort, Jorah of the Ellwood Coven. It was more than I expected to ever have again.” 

From one breath to the next, he was gone. Disappeared without a trace, right from my lap. 

A sob tore from my chest as I stood and turned, searching the forest for my poor, sweet viramore—because there was no doubt now that he was my soulmate—but he was nowhere to be found. 

“Hey!” I yelled. “Come back! Please! Please, come back! Where are you? Please, please, come back! Please. Pl—” 

“—ease!” I yelled as I woke, confused. Half-dreaming, half-awake. “Come back!” I yelled again before I realized I was once again on the ship in Faela and not in the forest at home. 

When I realized my sweet viramore—because he had to be my soulmate—was nowhere to be found, a sob tore from my chest, and I drew my knees up, wrapping my arms around them and burying my face there to cry.

Michele is married to an awesome guy that puts up with her and all the burnt dinners she makes—hey, sometimes characters are a bit distracting, and who doesn’t plot when they’re supposed to be cooking? They live together in Baltimore, Maryland with two little monsters, three-legged and four-legged fiends, and a little old man (aka their two sons, their two cats, and their senior dog). She hopes to rescue another cat soon, and if her hubby wouldn’t kill her, she’d get more than one… and maybe a few more dogs as well. 

She loves creating worlds filled with lots of love, chosen family, and of course, magic, but she also likes making the characters fight for that happy ending. She hopes to one day write all the stories in her head—even if there are too many to count!

Website: https://michelenotaro.com/

Amazon Author: https://www.amazon.com/Michele-Notaro/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/author.notaro/

Instagram: https://instagram.com/michelenotaro.author

Join Michele’s Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/cseIXT

Michele’s Facebook Reader Group, Notaro’s Haven: https://www.facebook.com/groups/NotarosHaven/

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Finding the Wolf (The Dragon's Hoard #1) by Mell Eight

Author Mell Eight and IndiGo Marketing share today's new release blitz for paranormal romance, Finding the Wolf (The Dragon's Hoard #1)! Dragons and werewolves fans check it out! Don't miss the $10 NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: Finding the Wolf

Series: The Dragon's Hoard, Book One

Author: Mell Eight

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 06/14/2021

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 24600

Genre: Paranormal, LGBTQIA+, dragons, werewolves, magic/magic users, interspecies, immortal, royalty, virgin, war

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Description

When Prince Leon disappears, his people turn to the dragons for help. Nyle is the unlucky dragon tasked with finding Leon, a duty he dreads as it forces him into the confounding human world and far away from his collection of pretties.

Locating a missing prince should be a simple matter, but if Nyle has learned anything about humans since being forced among them, it’s that they needlessly complicate everything. When he finally locates the errant prince, however, what Nyle finds is a treasure worth all the complications—and worth protecting at any cost.

Excerpt

Finding the Wolf
Mell Eight © 2021
All Rights Reserved

Nyle walked through the crowded bazaar with an eye on his coin purse. He had heard stories of humans who stole such things and did not wish to be the first of his kind to experience such ill luck.

He also kept an eye on the crowds. He doubted he would locate his quarry on his first foray into the human market, but there were clues he could find by simply being aware.

For example, the way the fishmonger in the corner stall blatantly gripped his meat cleaver as a group of ragged children exited an alleyway and dispersed into the bustle was probably a good indicator. Nyle would keep an eye on those children—they might have something to do with the disappearances of purses—but the man at the fish stall might have some interesting information. Nyle decided to head there first.

Someone jostled Nyle on their way toward a dour woman selling ribbons and beads across the way. He grimaced and held back a growl. They were humans, creatures clearly not versed in the niceties of society, and while their ignorance didn’t excuse them, it did allow Nyle to rationalize not taking the oafs who rudely bumped him to task. He had a job, and giving in to the urge to roar and breathe flames was not conducive to completing his task.

Nyle was dressed like a human. A loose pair of pants and a shirt that laced up the front comprised his costume, and if the fabric was of a tighter weave than the rest of the local class of humans, at least he looked the part.

“I’m searching for a young man,” Nyle said when he reached the wooden stall covered in fish. The fishmonger had known which children to watch. Perhaps he would also know Nyle’s target.

“Yeah?” the man asked. “Well, I haven’t seen any men around today.” He looked straight at Nyle, a male and only one of dozens who frequented the market, as he spoke.

Nyle guessed that was what humans called digging for incentives. His own kind didn’t much care for the art of blackmail.

Nyle reached into his carefully guarded purse and brought out two uncut copper coins, each enough to buy a small fish. He flashed the coins at the man and leaned forward.

“A tall man with very long black hair and blue eyes,” Nyle said as he pressed one coin to the wood surface of the stall.

The coin vanished into a gut-stained hand. “I seen him two days ago,” the man replied, eyes fixed greedily on the coin Nyle still held. “Not since then.”

Nyle set the second coin on the stall, but kept a finger on it. “Any idea where he could have gone? Or who else I could ask?”

The man tensed and kept his gaze fixed on the second coin as if he knew not to look into Nyle’s gold-colored eyes. Nyle slowly dragged the coin away from the man.

“The red-light district,” the man gasped out as if forced, his eyes stuck on the shiny coin. “You ask round there.”

Nyle released the coin, and the copper flashed in the late-morning sun. The fish man’s eyes remained riveted for another second before he shook himself free of the compulsion. The second coin vanished as quickly as the first, and the man looked up and caught Nyle’s eyes.

A mistake, but Nyle would use the fish man’s ignorance to his advantage.

“That boy ain’t right,” the man slurred, caught in the golden shine that filled the eyes of all Nyle’s kind. “Wild,” he continued, spilling everything he knew to the sheen in Nyle’s eyes, “as if a beast were trying to break free and fly away.”

Nyle blinked and looked away as the man sagged behind his booth. Nyle wasn’t feeling in top form either now. Catching someone with his eyes was more effective than using copper, but it cost him so much more magic. Nyle decided to return home for some rest before heading to the red-light district. Besides, he had heard humans preferred the nighttime for such activities.

Nyle didn’t really understand humans, but he was still young and would learn all there was to know eventually.

Purchase

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Meet the Author

When Mell Eight was in high school, she discovered dragons. Beautiful, wondrous creatures that took her on epic adventures both to faraway lands and on journeys of the heart. Mell wanted to create dragons of her own, so she put pen to paper. Mell Eight is now known for her own soaring dragons, as well as for other wonderful characters dancing across the pages of her books. While she mostly writes paranormal or fantasy stories, she has been seen exploring the real world once or twice.

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Shelton in Love by Dianne Hartsock

Author Dianne Hartsock and IndiGo Marketing returns with new release blitz for contemporary romance, Shelton in Love! Find out more about the friends to lovers romance and enter in the $10 NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: Shelton in Love

Author: Dianne Hartsock

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 06/14/2021

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 58700

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, friends to lovers, marriage, contemporary, roommate

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Description

Shelton is falling hard for his best friend and roommate, finding Nevil’s dark good looks and moments of gentleness almost impossible to resist. But Nevil is more interested in affairs of the body than the heart. As Shelton’s desire for the man grows, he wonders if he can change Nevil’s mind. But does he even want to? Nevil might not stay once he learns Shelton’s secret, and then his loneliness would be complete.

Shelton in Love is told in five stories spanning two and a half years of Shelton and Nevil’s relationship, the ups and downs, trials and celebrations, with a promise, a separation, a frantic return, temptation and a final triumph. Sometimes Shelton finds it difficult to love a beautiful man, but Nevil is worth the effort.

Excerpt

Shelton in Love
Dianne Hartsock © 2021
All Rights Reserved

Shelton ignored the flutter in his stomach he always experienced when invited into Nevil’s room and settled back into the cushions of the chair. “Who’s the lucky color?” he asked, trying to feign indifference.

Nevil drew a pair of socks from the top drawer of the bureau at random. “Ah, the gray ones.”

“What? Percy again? Didn’t you have him earlier in the week?”

“So what? These socks have never let me down,” Nevil countered and rubbed the soft wool against his cheek, purring like a happy kitten.

Shelton’s stomach knotted at the decadent smile on Nevil’s face. Nevil had made it clear when they had first met he’d enjoy sleeping with him. The jealousy eating Shelton now was his own fault, but was it wrong of him to want more from Nevil than a passing fling?

He shoved away the thought of sharing a meaningful relationship with Nevil, knowing it could never happen. However, the desire made Nevil’s flirtation all the more hurtful. “Fine, but if you make the man fall in love with you, you can buy us an answering machine and listen to his calls when I’m not home. I don’t want to hear him whine when you break it off.”

Nevil looked at him, raising a finely arched brow. “Who says I’ll break it off?”

“Get real. You’ll be bored in less than a week. Remember Daniel Pratte? You scarcely managed six days with him after swearing to all who’d listen you’d love him forever. He called for weeks after you told him it was over, hoping you’d be the one to pick up the phone. Admittedly, he was a bit of a prig, but I’m the one who had to listen to him sobbing his heart out. I refuse to do that with Percy.”

“Danny wasn’t the right man for me. I haven’t made up my mind about Percy.” Nevil unknowingly twisted the knife deeper into Shelton’s heart. Shelton held his breath when Nevil sat back against the headboard and lifted his foot onto the bed, pushing up the cuff of his tan Dockers. Moistening his lips, Shelton fought his attraction as he watched Nevil pull the sock over his foot and up a muscular calf. He was a faithful jogger and in May already had the beginnings of a fabulous tan.

Shelton’s treacherous gaze followed the fine dark hair up Nevil’s leg until it disappeared under the cuff of his pants. Captivated, his gaze continued upward to where the fabric tented nicely at the juncture of his thighs. His heart skipped a beat when Nevil shifted on the bed and the material pressed against a definite bulge.

Panicked, he raised his head, hoping Nevil hadn’t observed his interest. Nevil’s beautiful blue-green eyes watched him; then Nevil cocked an eyebrow. Shelton pushed to his feet from the chair, his face burning at Nevil’s slightly mocking smile. “I’m going to make a sandwich. Do you want one?”

“No, thanks. I need to save room for dessert,” Nevil reminded him as his tongue flicked over his lips. An image of Percy’s nicely rounded butt in tight jeans flashed through Shelton’s mind.

“Suit yourself,” Shelton muttered, watching as Nevil crossed his legs to leisurely pull on the second sock. Tearing his gaze from the provocative sight before acting on the impulse to join Nevil on the bed and strip him of clothing, Shelton left the room and stomped to the kitchen, grabbing meat and cheese from the refrigerator. He swore under his breath as he slathered mayonnaise on the bread, hating Percy and every other man represented in the myriad of colored socks in Nevil’s top drawer.

Eating at the counter, he glanced up to find Nevil leaning against the door frame watching him. Shelton wondered what the thoughtful look on his face meant.

“Do you have plans?” Nevil asked after a moment.

“Tera wants to do a photo shoot down by the lake.”

“Now? The sun will be down in an hour.”

Shelton shrugged. “She’s your sister. Think you can talk your twin out of a course of action when she’s made up her mind to do it? I can’t.”

Nevil snorted. “Neither can I.” He straightened. “Well, I’m off. See you later, darling,” he said as if they were a couple. Shelton felt the blood mount in his cheeks, infuriated by his callousness. Nevil had to be aware of his feelings for him. Why did he feel it was necessary to flaunt his lovers in his face?

Remembering the sandwich in his hands, he glowered at it, no longer hungry. Climbing off the stool, he tossed the sandwich in the garbage under the sink, wrinkling his nose at the ripe odor that wafted from the canister.

Shelton’s shoulders slumped, and he leaned a hip against the counter, discouraged. Maybe it was time to admit defeat and move out. He and Nevil had become friends when his firm had hired Nevil’s architectural company to design their new office building. They’d moved in together when the project was completed, Shelton finding Nevil’s dark good looks, dry humor, and moments of gentleness on the edge of irresistible.

He’d hoped that with proximity, the attraction between them would grow into a more lasting connection. He let out a dejected breath, realizing it was his own fault it hadn’t. Shelton had never shared with Nevil the true reason why he wouldn’t sleep with him.

I’m afraid. It’s that simple.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Dianne is the author of paranormal/suspense, fantasy adventure, m/m romance, the occasional thriller, and anything else that comes to mind. She lives in the beautiful Willamette Valley of Oregon with her incredibly patient husband, who puts up with the endless hours she spends hunched over the keyboard letting her characters play. She says Oregon’s raindrops are the perfect setting in which to write. There’s something about being cooped up in the house with a fire crackling on the hearth and a cup of hot coffee warming her hands, which kindles her imagination.

Currently, Dianne works as a floral designer in a locally-owned gift shop. Which is the perfect job for her. When not writing, she can express herself through the rich colors and textures of flowers and foliage.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest

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Guest Review: His Middle (Command & Care #3) by Morticia Knight

When a middle inherits a kink club, he’s terrified. Can his dad’s best friend rescue the business while also protecting him from danger?

Unexpectedly losing his father is devastating, but when Noah’s dad leaves him the wildly successful Club Playpen, it’s more responsibility than he can face. Noah’s business skills are nonexistent and his interest in taking charge is zilch. The pressure to keep the club open has him scrambling to find someone to take over, but who does he dare trust with his father’s legacy?

Sawyer is stunned by the death of his best friend. His heart also aches for Noah, who insists he can’t handle the obligation of running his dad’s popular club. When Noah begs him to take on the role of manager, Sawyer is faced with an uncomfortable dilemma. He’s been attracted to Noah from the moment he laid eyes on him. However, his best friend made Sawyer promise he’d never cross that forbidden line.

As Noah and Sawyer dance around their growing desire, Sawyer struggles to remain true to his vow. Then outside forces interfere and threaten the future of the business, and Sawyer rushes in to keep Noah safe. Will Sawyer save the club before it’s too late? And will he abandon his oath to his best friend and claim his boy?

Reviewer: Shee Reader

Noah has had a terrible experience of loss, and has found himself in a position he doesn’t want to be in: running a kink club. He calls on Sawyer, his long-time crush and dad’s best friend in the hopes that Sawyer will manage the club (and also fall head over heels in love with Noah in the process).

Sawyer has been overseas on an expedition and returned to the US to the terrible news that his best friend of many years had died whilst he was away. Noah has caught his eye since he grew up, but for some reason, Sawyer's friend made him promise never to seduce the boy. Can he keep the promise?

Of course, Sawyer drops everything to help Noah and we see how well suited the two men are for each other.

The romance between them is slow in growing because of the promise, but it feels inevitable that they would get together. When Noah’s appeal grows too enticing, Sawyer decides promise be damned, he’s having the delightful boy!

They never really reveal why Sawyer promised his best friend he wouldn’t pursue Noah, but they both seem to get over the vow pretty easily.

The writing was smart and sometimes funny, the kink club was a sweet side to the story and the fact that Noah was a middle, not a little, was refreshing and interesting. Noah is a sweet character and Sawyer is the daddy of his dreams.

Recommended.

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

Blog Tour + Giveaway: The Art of Living by Abrianna Denae

Author Abrianna Denae and Gay Book Promotions celebrate new release, The Art of Living, on today's blog tour stop! Read more about the slow burn romance and enter in the giveaway for a chance to win: either $20 Amazon gift card or one of two ebooks from the author's backlist!

BLOG TOUR

Book Title: The Art of Living 

Author: Abrianna Denae

Cover Artist: Pretty in Ink Creations

Release Date: June 10, 2021

Genre: Contemporary gay romance

Tropes: Single dad, hurt/comfort, office romance, slow burn

Themes: Trust, meddling family

Heat Rating: 3 flames     

Length: 35 000 words/ 90 pages

It is a standalone book, though the reader may be interested in The Gift of Believing, a companion book featuring the MC’s son: mybook.to/GoB

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Letting go is the hardest thing a person can do…

Blurb 

Robert Harper has spent the past seventeen years living for his son. He doesn’t know who he is if he’s not being a caregiver and protector all rolled into one.

Niall Ross is finally ready to make a life of his own. After years spent making sure his younger brother had everything he needed, it’s time for Niall to discover who he is.

All it takes is one glance across a crowded meeting room for the men to feel a connection, but Robert is terrified his life is too complicated for the other man. Luckily, Niall has patience in abundance. With a little help from Robert’s meddling family, the two begin a tentative relationship.

Just as they’re finding their footing, all of Robert’s worst fears come to life and he falters under the pressure. Niall takes the challenge to show Robert that he’s a safe place to lean on, but when his own life begins to unravel, he places his heart in Robert’s hands. When two independent men are forced to trust each other will the love win out, or will vulnerability and fear cause them to lose the best thing they didn't even know they had.

Excerpt 

“You really want me to date?”

Garrett nods. “I want you to live your life. I know you’re going to argue and say that you have everything you need with me, and Uncle Jared, and Sam. Maybe that’s true, but I also can’t help but feel guilty because if I wasn’t me then maybe you’d have found someone else by now.”

“Garrett, no, you know that’s not true,” I say gently. “Those other people I dated when you were younger, they didn’t last because they weren’t right for our family. If anyone can’t handle me and everything I come with, then they’re not worth my time.”

He studies me with those dark, wise eyes of his. “Does this mean you’ll give Niall a chance then? Because he’s different, I can feel it.”

Shit. I walked right into that one.

“Yeah,” I sigh. “I’d be open to trying.”

Garrett smiles and whips out his phone. I don’t bother asking who he’s texting, since the pieces are starting to slowly fall into place. I look at Presley, “They planned this, didn’t they?”

Pres smiles and nods. “Jared thought you both needed a little intervention.”

I shake my head and laugh a bit because my family is insane.

Garrett is still texting away while Presley and I clean up the kitchen. I try to tell Pres that he doesn’t need to help since he and Gare cooked, but he waves me off.

I just get the dishwasher started when my phone rings.  The display reads Niall and my mouth suddenly goes dry while my stomach begins to tie itself into knots.

Both boys stare at me as I accept the call. “Hello?”

“Hi,” pause, and then Niall laughs, “This is more awkward than I thought it’d be.”

I smile and turn away from the teenage busybodies. “I seriously doubt whatever you have to say is more awkward than the dinner I just had.”

He laughs again. “They tried to butter you up with food, huh?”

I groan. “Yes. When’d they get to you?”

“Sam talked to me this afternoon. Then they added me to a group chat a few hours ago and promptly blew up my phone with texts about twenty minutes or so ago.”

I sigh. “I’m sorry about them.”

“It’s fine,” Niall assures. “They’re just looking out for you.”

“They’re nosy and need to learn how to mind their own business.” I look over my shoulder to find Garrett and Presley sitting at the table, hanging onto my every word. Shaking my head, I stride from the room in search of some privacy.

“So if I were to ask you to dinner, you’d say no?”

“I guess you should ask and find out.”

Niall chuckles a bit. “Will you have dinner with me, Robert?”

My heart stutters in my chest and it takes a moment for me to get my mouth working. “Yes,” I finally manage to say.

“Great. Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is perfect.”

“I’ll text you the details unless someone else does it for me.”

I snort. “That’s a high possibility. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” he repeats. “Have a good night, Robert.”

“You too.”

The line goes dead and a part of me mourns the loss of his voice. Taking a steadying breath, I let the giddy feeling of a first date wash over me. I’ll never tell my family this, but I’m glad they decided to interfere with my life. I never would have had the guts to do this myself.

Tomorrow can’t come fast enough.

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.

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You can also email her at authorabridenae@gmail.com

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