Release Blitz + Giveaway: Salvation (Darkest Skies #3) by Garrett Leigh


Author Garrett Leigh and Signal Boost Promotions host a release blitz for the latest in the popular series, Salvation (Darkest Skies #3)! Find out more and enter in the giveaway today!

 




Cover Design: Black Jazz Design

Darkest Skies Series 

Book #1 Redemption - Buy Links
Book #2 Deliverance - Buy Links

Reformed gang boss Dante Pope is out after a four-year stretch in prison. But freedom has found him faster than he’s ready for. His only brother hates him, and with nothing but PTSD and a newfound fascination with plants for company, the outside world is a terrifying place.

A prisoner rehabilitation scheme lands him at a stately home that might as well be the moon. Working for gorgeous gardener Sid is a welcome distraction—his shoulders are broad, his rugged jaw unshaven, and his long, tanned legs?

Wow.

But Sid has problems of his own. A life-changing disease has left him limited in ways he can’t bear and accepting help, even from a stranger, makes him want to curl up and die.

If Dante would let him.

Newsflash: he won’t, and he’s not a stranger for long. With his dark smile and sinister ink, Dante Pope is the most beautiful man Sid has ever seen. Life is hard, but falling for each other is easy.

Sunshine and shadows.

Old ghosts can haunt Dante all they like. Loving Sid is the only salvation he’ll ever need.

Salvation is a sweetly angsty standalone MM romance novel in the Darkest Skies series. Expect: second chances, forced proximity, friends-to-lovers, and buckets of hurt/comfort themed loveliness. Content warnings for childhood trauma, violence, and chronic illness.



Garrett Leigh is an award-winning British writer and book designer.

Garrett's debut novel, Slide, won Best Bisexual Debut at the 2014 Rainbow Book Awards, and her polyamorous novel, Misfits was a finalist in the 2016 LAMBDA awards.

When not writing, Garrett can generally be found procrastinating on Twitter, cooking up a storm, or sitting on her behind doing as little as possible, all the while shouting at her menagerie of children and animals and attempting to tame her unruly and wonderful FOX.

Garrett is also an award winning cover artist, taking the silver medal at the Benjamin Franklin Book Awards in 2016. She designs for various publishing houses and independent authors at blackjazzdesign.com, and co-owns the specialist stock site moonstockphotography.com with renowned LGBTQA+ photographer Dan Burgess.

Website: http://www.garrettleigh.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/garrettleighauthor/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Garrett_Leigh


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Release Blitz + Giveaway: The Acquisition by Rachel Ford


Welcome author Rachel Ford and IndiGo Marketing to BMBR! Check out today's release blitz for suspense thriller, The Acquisition! Learn more and enter in the $50 NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: The Acquisition

Author: Rachel Ford

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 09/06/2021

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 94600

Genre: Contemporary Thriller, LGBTQIA+, contemporary, lesbian, action/adventure, reverse hero’s journey, suspense, humorous, revenge, workplace drama/office workers, tech secret espionage, pets, cruise ship, violence with guns, family drama

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Description

When Sutherland Bio buys up the little bio research firm Human Resources specialist Angela McCormack works for, she tries to adapt. Even though her shady new boss’s smarminess and sexism makes her stomach turn. She sticks it out through the verbal abuse, and through the benefit cuts and layoffs.

But when her boss, George Sutherland Jr., tasks her to recruit replacements for the people he laid off—and lets it slip that the layoffs were just part of a regime change strategy—she’s ready to throw in the towel. As much as she hates the idea of shoveling manure again, she’d rather return to her family’s farm and petting zoo than stay with Sutherland Bio.

Then George Jr. takes a particularly bad day out on her. And Angela decides she’s tired of the humiliation. She’s going to fight fire with fire. She makes it her mission to fill George Jr.’s team with the worst possible candidates she can find.

But she didn’t take into account falling for one of the new hires. All of a sudden, she’s not sure she wants to leave. Not yet.

And that’s just the first chicken to come home to roost. Little does she know, George has plenty of secrets of his own. And when one of them turns deadly, Angela will have to rely on her handpicked sabotage crew for survival. She might just wish she was back home shoveling manure after all.

Excerpt

The Acquisition
Rachel Ford © 2021
All Rights Reserved

You don’t piss off the person making your food. You don’t piss off the woman who gave birth to you. And you don’t piss off the HR lady. Everyone knows that.

Everyone, it seemed, except George Maxwell Sutherland, Jr. As with most memos, George Maxwell Sutherland, Jr. had missed that one. Along with the one about manners. And treating employees with respect. And showering every day instead of wearing a bucket of cologne to work.

Angela McCormack wrinkled her nose and stared at her boss’s feet. They were at eye level since he had them propped up on his desk. The sight made her stomach turn a little. It wasn’t so much the untrimmed talons on the ends of his toes, or the hobbit-like growth of untamed hair. It was the fact that she could see them at all. And the no-feet-on-the-furniture and don’t wear flipflops into work when you’re the CEO memos.

Yes, there were quite a few memos George Maxwell Sutherland, Jr. had missed. But at the moment, it was the one about not downsizing people out of their jobs just to recreate the same position two months later that weighed the heaviest on her mind. Because, unless she’d misunderstood everything he had just said, that’s what he was doing here. And despite George’s propensity to torture a simple sentence into a longwinded monologue for the sole pleasure of hearing himself talk, she was pretty sure she hadn’t got it wrong.

“Excuse me, Mr. Sutherland,” she said, “just to clarify, we’re refilling the positions we just downsized?”

He cocked an eyebrow up at her. “No, not at all. These are different positions, Angie.”

God, she hated when he called her Angie. “Yes sir, I heard you say that. But if I’m understanding you, the titles will be different, but the positions will fill the same basic function as before. We’re looking for an IT team lead to replace Dawn. You need a Director of Business Services to pick up where Mark left off, and so on?”

He flashed her a toothy grin that, she supposed, he assumed was charming. It wasn’t. It was the kind of smile she’d expect from someone selling a car that probably wouldn’t make it out of the lot. “Now you’re getting it. You know how it goes. New era, new regime. If I’m going to do this right, well, I need people I can trust.”

He studied her for a long moment with keen blue eyes. “That’s why I kept you on. I had a good feeling about you. And you know what I say—I’m a man who goes with his gut.”

Angela McCormack forced a smile and lied through her teeth. “Of course, sir. You can always trust me.”

“Don’t call me sir. Call me George.” He smiled again. He smiled too much for her liking. Grinning CEO’s, smiling politicians, and gas station sushi: she reserved the same measure of trust for each of them. “Now, I’d like these listings up by Friday. Is that something we can do?”

We. As if he’d lift a finger to help.

“I’ll get the drafts to you by the end of the day tomorrow. If the revision process goes smoothly, I don’t see why not.”

He nodded. “Excellent. Excellent. Well, that was all I had, then. Oh, my dry cleaning’s not back yet, is it?”

“No sir. I mean, no, George.”

He winked and clicked his tongue as a kind of sound effect to match the finger guns he aimed her way. “That’s better. I don’t like a formal workplace. I’m all about casual. I think it builds better morale. Don’t you?”

Angela smiled and lied again. “Oh, absolutely.”

She had nothing against casual, as long as it wasn’t the kind of casual that involved dirty hobbit feet on the desk. But George had come into Fenwood Bio like a whirlwind, laying off staff, axing benefits, and implementing draconian cost reduction programs within his first two weeks. The turnover rate was already higher than the layoffs. Which was one of several reasons why she was currently filling the role of the entire HR department, as well as admin, IT department, and supply requisitions. All for the same salary as before, of course, but with a much slimmer retirement package, and no life insurance benefits.

No, Angela McCormack didn’t want to hear the word “morale” pass his lips. He’d personally shredded every last bit of it and flushed it down the toilet.

“Me too. You might say, it’s one of my core philosophies.” He nodded, to himself it seemed, then added, “Well, I’ll let you get to work, then.”

She didn’t mind the dismissal. Hell, it couldn’t come soon enough as far as she was concerned. “Right.”

Retreating to her office and closing the door after her, Angela breathed out a long sigh of relief. She hadn’t been afraid he’d called her in to lay her off. He’d gotten that out of his system within the first few weeks. Still, she’d seen so many come and go, she would have been lying if she said the thought hadn’t occurred to her.

Mostly, she detested him. And she had the kind of face that didn’t know how to use its inside voice. When someone tripped her BS trigger, well, her face broadcast it loud and clear before she even realized it.

George Maxwell Sutherland, Jr. lived in the BS zone. And Angela McCormack needed her job. She had a mortgage and a house she loved. Sure, she could have found a job elsewhere that would have paid as well, or maybe a little better. But she didn’t want to give up her house. Not after all the years she’d spent restoring it, a room at a time.

Nor did she want to leave Fenwood. She’d grown up here, and she planned to grow old here. Older, she thought with a sour glance at the calendar. She’d be thirty-five in two days. She didn’t want to have to start over at thirty-five.

And that’s exactly what finding a new job in human resources would be. Fenwood Bio—now Sutherland Bio Research—was the biggest employer in the area, and those companies that did have HR departments weren’t hiring.

She knew because she’d checked. So, if she was going to find another job, it would mean leaving the area. It would mean moving a hundred miles south, or seventy-five miles north, or even farther east and west.

Fenwood was one of those smack-in-the-middle-of-nowhere towns, with more cows and horses than people. You either loved it or hated it.

Angela loved it, and she didn’t want to leave.

So, she pulled open her archaic software suite and started filling in the job listings they’d talked about. Did it make her a modern-day Judas Iscariot, helping this son of a bitch after he’d fired so many of her friends on the pretense that their jobs were redundant, now that Sutherland Bio Research had acquired them?

Maybe. Then again, Judas didn’t have a mortgage. Angela stared at the screen, trying to focus on the work. But the work didn’t—couldn’t—make up for the feeling in the pit of her stomach. The feeling of betrayal that left her a little sick. God, I hate this job.

She started as her messenger application dinged. Glancing at the clock on her desktop, she frowned. Somehow, half an hour had already passed.

Angela brought up the messenger window and groaned. It was George, and he’d flagged the chat as a high priority.

Can you come to my office?

Grimacing, she typed, On my way.

Angela practiced her fake smile on the way. It probably wouldn’t have convinced anyone who wasn’t as obtuse as George, but at least it wouldn’t be scary. Or, so she hoped anyway.

She knocked on his closed door and immediately heard, “Come in.” She did, and Sutherland smiled at her. “Ah, Angie. Thank goodness. We’ve got a situation.”

Oh no. “Oh?”

“I forgot I had an appointment this morning.”

“Really? I didn’t see anything in your schedule.”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you about it. I would have had you add it to the calendar. But that’s not the issue. Point is, we don’t have anything for them to eat.”

Now, she did grimace. So far this month, he’d sent her on eighty-some dollars’ worth of coffee runs, lunch pickups, and pastry runs. For a millionaire, Mr. Sutherland was chronically short of cash. It had all gone on “the tab.”

The tab didn’t exist, except as a figment of his imagination. Angela had her doubts that it would ever be settled. He’d pay off ten or twenty bucks here and there. But it always seemed larger than whatever cash he happened to have on hand.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Whatever you can find.”

“When are they going to be here?”

“Nine-thirtyish. Maybe ten. I’m not really sure. They were going to be here when they could. They’re flying in from Philly. Shit.” He shook his head. “I need to have something here for them. They probably haven’t eaten yet.”

Despite herself, Angela felt his tension get to work on her mind. “Well, I can put a call into Tealeaves & Coffeecake. I’m sure we can get a breakfast tray.”

He nodded. “Good. Good, their stuff is good. For Fenwood food anyway. See if you can get one of those breakfast quiches, and pastries.”

“Will do.”

“Nothing with mushrooms though. I can’t stand them.”

“Got it.”

“Oh, and what are we going to do about coffee?”

“I’ll make sure we have a pot freshly brewed by nine-thirty.” It wasn’t her job, but if it quelled a panic? Well, Angela would do it.

But George wrinkled his nose. “I’m not going to force them to drink that crap.”

She blinked. “You mean, the office coffee?”

He nodded as if she was agreeing with him somehow. “You’ll have to get one of those jugs of coffee. French roast. You know how I like it.”

“All right,” she said, then added, “I’ll let you know how much it costs.”

He nodded absently. “Sounds good. Thanks, Angie, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Anytime,” she said, leaving his office before the scowl set in.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Award-winning author Rachel Ford is a software engineer by day, and a writer most of the rest of the time. She is a Trekkie, a video gamer, and a dog parent, owned by a Great Pyrenees named Elim Garak and a mutt of many kinds named Fox (for the inspired reason that he looks like a fox).

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Wildflowers by Hayden Winston


Author Hayden Winston and IndiGo Marketing host the release blitz for romance, Wildflowers! Discover more about the contemporary tale and enter in the $50 NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: Wildflowers

Author: Hayden Winston

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 08/30/2021

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 61800

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, bisexual, cisgender, contemporary, family drama, friends-to-lovers, coming of age, coming out, #ownvoices, tearjerker

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Description

Once he left for college, nothing could convince Ansel Wallis to return to his sleepy little hometown of Hunter, CA—except the passing of his beloved grandfather that is.

Although Ansel plans to drop by the funeral and head right back to his life on the East Coast, he quickly finds himself forced to contend with past demons, long-brewing family tensions, and unexpected romantic feelings. As secrets unravel around him, Ansel spirals out of control. Just when things begin to settle, he learns just how fragile life can be.

Excerpt

Wildflowers
Hayden Winston © 2021
All Rights Reserved

You breathe and the city seems to breathe with you. It feels like the ardent touch of a lover, cool and electric on your skin. Raindrops threaten to fall from dark grey clouds that hover in the sky like peak-less mountains. Sweaters, jackets, umbrellas get pulled out, tucked on—a choreographed dance. You sigh and the city sighs with you. Everyone is moving, flooding the streets like ants at a discarded picnic. It feels like the touch of something cosmic, for this all to come together the way it does. Even if you decided to stop, you could not change it. Someone, somewhere, would stop along with you. It is inescapable. Even when you die—someone, somewhere has died along with you.

As he stood over the open casket containing what was once his very alive grandfather, that concept was all that Ansel Wallis focused on. How many other people in the world are burying their granddads today? Since the casket had not yet been lowered into its freshly dug grave, Ansel took some time to pay his final respects. He had never been one to emote in front of a large crowd (much like his late granddad), so he had spent most of the funeral service thinking quietly to himself and consoling relatives. Now that he and his grandfather were finally alone, Ansel reached out to place a single orchid onto the elder Wallis’s lifeless body.

Peering at said body intently, Ansel noticed how his grandfather’s hands had changed. Whether bringing in a mountain of groceries, carrying one of Ansel’s sisters in each arm, or tossing Ansel up in the air, William Wallis’s hands were always rugged and full of exuberance. Now, they appeared different, alien almost. The skin on them lacked luster; the gold ruby signet ring William had usually worn on his right pinky was gone, as was the wedding band that adorned his left ring finger. Maybe it was the absence of these rings, or the absence of life in him altogether, but in that moment William’s hands were small, naked, feeble even as they lay clasped serenely above his waist. And it wasn’t just his hands: the invisible shadow of death dwarfed William’s entire body.

Mind you, that was no easy feat. At six foot-two and a hundred eighty-two pounds, the man had quite literally been larger than life. Add to his size, a strong jaw, charisma, and a deep, booming voice, and you had the perfect recipe to command anyone’s attention. He kept an entire room in line with a mere look and incited them to dance all the same. Now he lay motionless, all-seeing eyes closed tight, voice forever muted. Ansel also noticed his grandfather’s complexion was different. Though Ansel and his grandfather had shared the same rich dark, brown skin tone in life, the mortician had heavily powdered William’s visage. In death, his face was several shades lighter than the skin on his hands.

The mahogany casket gleamed in the sunlight, reminding Ansel of the way their dining table had gleamed growing up, after his mother had finished applying a vigorous waxing. It was May 25. Ansel only knew the date with certainty, as exactly three days earlier his sister Regina had called to inform him of their grandfather’s fatal stroke. He couldn’t believe the news at first. William was Ansel’s last living grandparent and the closest thing Ansel had known to a father since he was twelve years old. Ansel’s actual father, William’s lone son, had died in a horrific car crash shortly after Ansel completed junior high.

Losing his father had absolutely devastated Ansel, and losing his grandfather hit as hard. Following the death of Ansel’s dad, his grandfather had stepped in to help raise Ansel and his sisters. William had made so much of an impact that his loss compelled Ansel to return home for the first time in nearly two and a half years. He’d taken the redeye from Philadelphia and had barely slept since getting off the plane. He had landed in town in time to change into a black suit and navy tie for the funeral service. He felt trapped in a guilt-laden fog the entire way through.

He’d promised himself that he was going to visit when he first learned his grandfather had fallen ill, but he had never followed through. Ansel would make plans to fly home for the weekend, then reschedule. He told himself he’d go next weekend, or the next time he got a chance. His granddad had moved into the house with his mother, and she’d taken care of him with the help of a part-time nurse. Ansel had made excuse after excuse, putting the visit off the way we all do with daunting tasks, until inevitably time ran out. Ansel turned away from the casket and headed to the other end of the cemetery, where the exit lay. He crossed the street to where an old gothic-style Anglican Church stood.

The air was thick, and the heat devoured Hunter, California, stronger than any other summer prior. Ansel stood at the wrought-iron gate that enclosed the courtyard behind the church. He placed a hand on the smooth metal bars feeling along the decorative inlay. Like all good West Indian families, the Wallises had regularly attended church for most of Ansel’s childhood. And for most of his childhood, Ansel had thought nothing of the ritual, until, of course, his dad died. All he could do after his father’s funeral was lie flat and stare at the ceiling. His body and mind had felt completely shrouded in an unshakeable haze, a deep, dense, darkness.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Hayden is a Black, bisexual, novelist, poet and activist. His work draws on his experiences as a QPOC and the child of West Indian immigrants. His goal is to expose life’s most jarring elements while promoting self-exploration and self-love. Originally from Los Angeles, he currently resides in Northern California with his husband.

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: The Midnight Man by Kevin Klehr


The Midnight Man is out from NineStar Press! See author Kevin Klehr and IndiGo Marketing's promo for the new release! Check out more book info and the $50 NSP credit giveaway!
 

Title: The Midnight Man

Author: Kevin Klehr

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 08/30/2021

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 52200

Genre: Fantasy, LGBTQIA+, Contemporary, fantasy, family-drama, romance, gay, established couple, dreams, cheating, mother/son relationship

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Description

Stanley is almost fifty. He hates his job, has an overbearing mother, and is in a failed relationship. Then he meets Asher, the man of his dreams, literally in his dreams.

Asher is young, captivating, and confident about his future—everything Stanley is not. So, Asher gives Stan a gift. The chance to be an extra five years younger each time they meet.

Some of their adventures are whimsical. A few are challenging. Others are totally surreal. All are designed to bring Stan closer to the moment his joyful childhood turned to tears.

But when they fall in love, Stan knows he can’t live in Asher’s dreamworld. Yet he is haunted by Asher’s invitation to “slip into eternal sleep.”

Excerpt

The Midnight Man
Kevin Klehr © 2021
All Rights Reserved

Stanley gazed into the fridge as he waited for his partner, Francesco, and their conquest for the night to stop smooching at the front door and come inside.

He checked for eggs and milk. He was thankful there were chives in a container so breakfast for their guest could be a tad more exotic. But he’d have to go easy on the toast as there were only three slices of sourdough left, and he didn’t want to open the boring old multigrain.

He closed his eyes to recall the night. Their plaything was licking his lips with just the right amount of tongue when he propositioned Francesco at the nightclub. He hadn’t even noticed Stanley.

But if the couple didn’t respond to the young man’s request, he’d move on to the next potentials and Stanley and Francesco would have to choose between those altered by alcohol or happy pills. And Stanley knew those sins outstayed their welcome like bad wallpaper. Fortunately, tonight’s pickup was only slightly wired.

Francesco stumbled in the living room, trying to make martinis. Their boy was giggling like a pre-schooler who’d heard a limerick. But the disco laden images of earlier that night were still haunting Stanley.

Francesco’s workmate, Graham, had joined them with his partner, Tony. Stanley recalled the look Tony gave them when they said goodnight. As if their hookup, who wrapped his arms around Stanley and Francesco, was the victim in some lost midlife scenario reminiscent of anxious porn. Yet Graham and Tony were only ten years older than Stanley and Francesco’s toy for the night. Surely Tony would be more open-minded.

“Dinky, the martinis are ready.”

Stanley frowned at hearing his nickname. It was his curtain call to re-enter this flawed three-character play.

“Elijah can’t believe you’re fifty soon,” Francesco said, handing Stan his cocktail.

“You look so good.” The lad gazed wide-eyed for more time than naturally required. “Your hair’s thinning a little, but I know guys half your age who are seriously bald.”

“See, Dinky. Even Elijah thinks you’re handsome for your age.”

“Thank you,” Stanley mumbled. He sat on the edge of the armrest of the large sofa.

Elijah sat with his legs stretched out, enjoying the comfort of their recliner as if it was his own. He grinned at Francesco like a patient kid waiting too long for dessert.

“I hope you like scrambled eggs,” Stanley said.

“Say what?” Elijah snickered.

“You said you were staying for breakfast,” Stan replied. “You said so on the ride home.”

“Oh no.” Elijah looked horrified, as if dessert were cancelled. “You’re taking me out for breakfast.”

“He wants to be paraded,” said Francesco.

“Like a gold medal.” Stanley tried his best not to roll his eyes.

“So, what made you choose us tonight?” Francesco asked.

“You’re an established couple,” Elijah replied. “You know your shit. And you’ve dealt with your shit. Older men are so much more fun.” He turned to Stanley. “Most times I go out, I pick up an older couple.”

Stanley couldn’t help thinking how rehearsed Elijah sounded. “Has that strategy always worked?”

“Of course.”

“Really?”

Elijah stared blankly at Stanley. “Yeah, except when one guy is more uptight than the other.”

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Kevin lives with his husband, Warren, in their humble apartment (affectionately named Sabrina), in Australia’s own ‘Emerald City,’ Sydney.

His tall tales explore unrequited love in the theatre district of the Afterlife, romance between a dreamer and a realist, and a dystopian city addicted to social media.

His first novel, Drama Queens with Love Scenes, spawned a secondary character named Guy. Many readers argue that Guy, the insecure gay angel, is the star of the Actors and Angels book series. His popularity surprised the author. The third in this series, Drama Queens and Devilish Schemes, scored a Rainbow Award (judged by fans of queer fiction) for Best Gay Alternative Universe/Reality novel.

So, with his fictional guardian angel guiding him, Kevin hopes to bring more whimsical tales of love, life and friendship to his readers.

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Audiobook Review: The Demon's in the Details by Meghan Maslow

Can a sexy demon really spin straw into gold?

Poe Dupin, raven shifter and thief extraordinaire, is in trouble with a capital ‘T.’ Not only did he get his wing caught in the cookie jar during his latest heist, but his loser stepdad, the alpha, seems determined to run their roost into the ground. And Baltimore is many things, but forgiving is not on the list.

When his stepdad puts the roost in peril, Poe sees no choice but to bargain with Charm City’s only demon, Tommy Tittoti. Rumors are that Tommy eats the souls of those foolish enough to try. Three strikes and you’re out. But really, Poe wasn’t using his soul anyway. And if it saves his roost? Worth it.

Tommy isn’t what Poe expects. Demon—huge, horned, hairy, and scary, right? Nope. Blond, gorgeous, with a bubble butt, and a lilting drawl that beckons Poe to come play. Total hookup-app fantasy material. Even if he is a murder twink.

Poe’s no angel, but Tommy . . . well he’s more devil than demon. Yet, Poe just can’t seem to keep his feathers out of the fire. As one bargain turns into two, and then a third tragedy strikes the ravens, Poe finds himself falling for a guy who may very literally be the death of him. Or maybe the flames will burn them both.

The Demon’s in the Details is a fast-paced, roller coaster of a romance with a guaranteed HEA and lots of steam. Shenanigans include: a gold object that is definitely not a ring, a best friend who’s trigger-happy, and a demon who’s got a few surprises up his, uh, sleeve.

Listening Length: 6 hours 38 minutes
Narrator: Greg Boudreaux



Originally part of the Fables Retold Anthology, this was a fab entry!

As per the blurb, raven Poe is in a bit of a pickle. His stepdad Ethan, who’s also his alpha, is the worst of the worst, always putting himself first instead of the roost and consorting with slimey evil snake overlord Briggs, digging his debt deeper and deeper. Poor Poe, committed to his half siblings and the community, is forever the one who must risk and sacrifice much to get Ethan out of his latest scrape. When Ethan goes too far, Poe has no choice but to strike a bargain with the tantalizing Tommy, a demon who looks anything but and has far greater powers and schemes than imagined.

As with all demons and the bargains they strike, it is the little details inserted or missed that more often than not is what gets a poor desperate soul in trouble. Thankfully, Tommy has a bit of a crush on Poe and has no problem helping the beleaguered raven who only wants what's best for those under his care.

In classic Maslow style, this had thorough world building, plenty of twists and turns, and some crazy violence and deserved harsh justice, all delivered via stellar writing that also includes some stellar explicit.

Narrated by Boudreaux (aka the venerable Greg Tremblay), need I say more? Nope.

Overall, an enticing, sexy paranormal urban fantasy, where further stories of the various denizens (a menagerie of shifters, mages, fairies, and vamps) that Maslow has introduced in this unique AU, would no doubt be eagerly and easily embraced should she decide to expand on these other characters! For now though, go forth and enjoy this fun novella!!



Release Blitz + Giveaway: The Warrior's Assassin (Born in Sin #1) by Nikki McCoy


Welcome author Nikki McCoy and IndiGo Marketing to the blog! They celebrate the urban fantasy release of The Warrior's Assassin (Born in Sin #1)! Discover more about the new series and enter in the $50 NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: The Warrior’s Assassin

Series: Born in Sin, Book One

Author: Nikki McCoy

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 08/30/2021

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 61300

Genre: Fantasy, LGBTQIA+, mythical creatures (fae, jinn), incarceration, soulmates/bonding, revenge, prison escape, cliffhanger

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Description

For over a century, Kita has paid for his sins in innocence and blood. The sin of being born, for daring to exist, and for polluting the fae race with his tainted, mixed heritage. Half fae and half human, he is an abomination belonging to neither race, yet caught in the midst of their feuding.

After winning his freedom from a lifetime of slavery to the fae, a ghost from his past has come to pull him back into the depths of hell. And this time, there will be no escape.

To the world, Jacen McKenna is a gang leader, arms and drug trafficker, slaver. Labels he wears proudly to cover his true intentions. He is a warrior among his kind, dealing justice to his enemies and mercy to those without hope. He’d thought getting thrown into Babylon, a prison notorious for its inescapability, was the ultimate low point in his life. He was wrong.

From the second he laid eyes on Kita, he knew fate wasn’t done screwing him over. Beautiful, wild, and defiant, Kita brought out every protective instinct he possessed; ravaged him with emotions he never thought himself capable of. He tried to keep his distance, but fate, yet again, had other plans.

Caught in an impossible situation, they both have to learn to trust each other. But trust was a precious commodity in a world that had turned its back on them. Together, they must fight if they want to survive the war brewing in their midst.

Excerpt

The Warrior’s Assassin
Nikki McCoy © 2021
All Rights Reserved

Kita shook himself to clear his head, wondering what had made him think of that night so many years ago. Normally, his repressed memories came to him in dreams. Or, rather, nightmares.

At thirteen, he’d been foolish enough to desperately believe in Bergiese’s vision despite his cynicism. Later, he had learned to see the truth behind the pretty lie. There was no savior or salvation waiting for him somewhere down the path of his life. There was only misery and pain, and he was so incredibly sick of it all that his mind had begun to slip back into the state of bleak abjection he’d carried in his youth.

The future was a yawning maw empty of anything that made life worth living. What few reasons for happiness he’d found had faded quickly, leaving him raw and desolate. He knew it was time to end everything, yet he couldn’t bring himself to put a gun to his head and pull the trigger.

Funny how a person with no pride could consider suicide to be cowardly.

He drew back into the shadows of the alleyway when the door to the abandoned hotel opened. Nicolas Gordon, Nicki as he was known on the streets, walked out followed by a shorter man wearing a trench coat. The hood of Nicki’s sweatshirt was pulled down low to hide most of his face. Not that his poor attempts at anonymity over the past week had worked in his favor. He’d been found, and he would die tonight.

The two men spoke quietly, the steam of their breath curling in the frigid night air. They began to walk rapidly in the other direction. Kita slipped from his cover and entered the building, the squealing of rusted hinges on the door the only sound.

The area was mostly deserted, although not as run down as some of the neighborhoods he had seen. This small town, like so many scattered across the country, had had the misfortune of being located near a Crown Federation military base.

During the Islandar Civil War, more than a century ago, all of the bases had been targeted and summarily disabled. Some still lay in ruins from domestic terrorist attacks while others had been taken apart from the inside and left to rot in the wake of espionage and independent financial ruin.

Overall, Okasis fared decently in comparison. Its Federation base still functioned, which was a boon to the town’s economy, such as it was—struggling and on the constant verge of collapse.

He reached within himself for his power of pyrokinesis and sparked a small flame at his fingertip. With it, he searched the rooms on the first floor for Nicki’s belongings. If the reports were true, Nicki carried on him a laptop with information potentially disastrous to the Federation. Kita had been charged with confiscating the laptop and killing him.

Pinard, his keeper in the ISBF, Internal Security Branch of the Federation, had told him in no uncertain terms not to go through the laptop himself. However, the unusually avid interest in this mission had drawn his curiosity. The order had come from General Laurs, head of security, and was highly classified.

That in itself threw up a red flag.

Why would an insignificant peon on the low rung of society’s ladder be such a high‒profile target? The Federation didn’t send its dog on assassinations anyone could pull off. It just didn’t add up, even if the man was a renegade jinn.

He found the meager belongings in the last room amid layers of decay and rat droppings. In the duffel bag was a battered laptop one would hardly expect to find classified intel on. With the decryption device he’d liberated from Pinard’s desk, he easily hacked through its security. Two documents in particular stood out to him.

What he read in them made his blood run cold. It had to be some kind of mistake or propaganda to use against the Federation.

Yet, the more he read, the faster it became obvious this wasn’t a hoax. Most of the information contained in the documents correlated with events only the ISBF knew about. Critical threats against the Federation made over the past several decades that had been swept under the rug.

Briefly, he scrunched his eyes shut. He had hoped for something to hold against Pinard, but this… This was well beyond the limits of anything he could handle on his own.

Of all the endless ways this information could be used, only one outcome was certain. Their country would be plunged into another civil war. Serving these documents up to the general would only exacerbate the situation and quicken the inevitable outcome.

“Shit,” he hissed.

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Meet the Author

Nikki McCoy lives in the vast, open spaces of Wyoming where the wind is a beast and the snow dominates for 10 months out of the year. But the night are filled with magic and mystery. It’s during these nights that her world becomes a collage of cunning intrigue, edgy mysteries and sexy, sometimes brutal men. She loves to let her imagination run away with her. The darker the fantasy, the greater the spoils.

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Truth to Light by Eddie Newton

 

Author Eddie Newton and IndiGo Marketing host release blitz for urban fantasy, Truth to Light! Read more about the QUILTBAG fantasy and enter in the the $50 NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: Truth to Light

Author: Eddie Newton

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 08/30/2021

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 67000

Genre: , LGBTQIA+, action, adventure, angels, demons, magic, magic users

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Description

Sofía Hernandez has been looking for her truth all her life. She was adopted as a baby and never knew her birth parents. She was assigned male, and that wasn’t the truth either. So when she gets a phone call from someone offering to clear up the mysteries in her life, she starts on an adventure that leads to revelations she can hardly believe are true.

Sofía’s birth sister reaches out and reveals a world full of greater mysteries than Sofía ever could have imagined. A secret organization called the Illuminati created a universal lie about the population of Earth, concealing the true nature of the world. The Illuminati hides the real Wider World behind a magical glamour, concealing the existence of ghosts, aliens, monsters, angels, demons, and more.

Truth to Light is a novel that explores what it means to be true to yourself and what truth can mean to different people. Sofia is a transgender woman who must deal with changes both within and without. Her transformation will need to accommodate not only her own identity, but the very nature of the world around her.

Excerpt

Truth to Light
Eddie Newton © 2021
All Rights Reserved

“Do you want to see a magic trick?” Vincent Prospero asked the trio of college kids in response to their drunken taunts concerning his anachronistic attire.

Vincent stood at the bottom of the hill in the middle of Ningúno Lane in Eden, Delaware. For the first time in three years, he was back. On a Saturday night, this part of Eden featured frat boys and sorority sisters stumbling between saloons up and down the neighborhood. There was not a sober undergrad in sight. Vincent had originally planned on walking past the partiers and straight up the street to the house on the top of the hill.

But the three inebriated instigators just had to make a comment on his top hat.

Vincent was tall and thin and dressed like Abraham Lincoln. He tipped off his top hat to reveal a mess of blond hair, which matched his wispy goatee and made him resemble a man featured on a circus advertisement from the nineteenth century. Vincent held the hat out for the college kids to inspect.

The brilliant grin of a small child bloomed on the face of the big jock in a football jersey, intoxication imitating innocence. He wore the number seventy-seven with the name “Murphy” above it. Murph put his two palms together and rubbed his hands like a miser surveying his millions.

“So that ‘splains the goofy getup,” Murph drooled, and a string of spittle connected his bottom lip to the pavement of Ningúno Lane. “I wanna see a maji-trig.”

“Me too,” said the girl beside Murph. His girl. Certainly, she was always a me-too.

“Yeah,” agreed the third wheel.

Magic was all about secrets. The trick worked because you did not know the truth. You couldn’t figure out the how. Vincent liked his secrets.

“Here,” Vincent said, handing his cane to the third wheel. “Hold this. Careful now, the magic is in there.”

The young man held the cane across his open palms as if cradling legendary Excalibur itself.

“Just a normal top hat. Nothing inside. Here, put your hand in.” Murph’s girl put her petite hand in halfway up her forearm. Nothing inside. “Empty. Agree?” She nodded. Vincent turned it around and spun it in his hands. “Look all around it. Nothing suspicious?” Three heads shook, all a little wobbly.

Vincent held out the hat and opened it upward. The sun hung over the rooftops of Eden, evening languidly exhaling the last light of day. Twilight blanketed the lane in cozy shadows, obscuring the interior of the top hat.

“Now, young man, tap the cane on the edge of the hat,” Vincent instructed the third wheel. The man raised one manicured eyebrow. “Nothing to fear, I assure you. Magic is only dangerous when it needs to be.” The third wheel took the end of the cane in his hand so gently he must have been imagining it was a tender lover who might scorn him if he handled her too roughly. “That’s right. Just a light rap. Very good, young man. Just that way.”

Vincent reached inside and fumbled around a bit. His arm went inside the same distance as the girl’s had when she checked the hat. Vincent made a show of pawing around for something inside, like an old lady searching for Tic Tacs at the bottom of her purse. Then he grinned, a showman’s expression, and his eyes popped open in dramatic flair.

Vincent pulled a rabbit out of the hat.

Murph and his girl oohed and aahed, swooning like teenage girls at a boy band concert. But the third wheel frowned, staring suspiciously at the white rodent. His nostrils flared as if he smelled something rotten about this whole thing.

“Lame,” he commented. “That is the same thing I’ve seen a hundred times. It’s the oldest trick in the book!”

“Oh, I don’t know if it is the oldest,” Vincent opined, “but it is tried and true. Not as flashy and loud as you young people prefer nowadays?”

“You only pulled a bunny out of a hat,” the third wheel sneered. “My gramma could have done that trick a hundred years ago.”

“You want to see something epic?” Vincent asked.

“Epic,” he agreed. “Yeah.”

“Me too,” said Murph’s girl. Again with the me-too.

Murph was too boozed to form a full response. He managed a clumsy nod.

Vincent let the bunny go, and it hopped down Ningúno Lane in the opposite direction of the hill. He twirled the hat in a theatrical flourish and held it out once again for the third wheel to tap with the cane. This time the undergrad knew his role. Tap tap tap.

“You may want to step back,” Vincent warned.

The trio of young drunkards took a step back on rubbery legs. Vincent reached into the hat. This time he pushed his arm farther into the opening. He smiled at the students, gave a wink. His arm went in even more. He pushed his tailored sleeve into the top hat all the way up to his shoulder. The girl’s eyes grew as big as a werewolf’s.

“Impossible,” she whispered.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” Vincent answered.

Vincent yanked. Hard. The object in the hat was stubborn. It had slept for a thousand years, and waking was a ponderous endeavor. Vincent had the thing by the tail. With a final violent yank, he drew the contents of the hat out through the small orifice like an obstetrician pulling a newborn from the birth canal. This baby was as ugly as a troll and as angry as a poltergeist. As big as any beanstalk giant. Rearing a scaly head in rage, the dragon vomited fire into the twilit sky.

“Mama,” Murph managed to mumble before the dragon noticed the marinated morsel. It snapped its beak over the big football player. The dragon’s mouth was a kiln, and Murph melted in a matter of moments; boiling blood and liquified bones slid down the gullet.

Murph’s girl and the third wheel screamed like toddlers and turned to run for their lives. The dragon pivoted its head on a serpentine neck and scooped them up from the side and its jaws snapped shut on the main parts of the undergrads, leaving behind two rolling noggins and two pairs of trendy tennis shoes, the smoldering stumps of their feet included.

The half-dozen drunkards standing stunned along the street scattered, screaming. Vincent looked at the dragon beside him: wet scales glowed from the streetlights, intense eyes roamed the avenue for further prey, and smoke issued from flared nostrils. Demonic wings stretched and threatened to fly.

“Not yet,” Vincent told the creature. “We need to visit an old acquaintance. Afterward, there will be plenty more to eat.”

Vincent looked up Ningúno Lane to the house high on the hill.

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Meet the Author

Edward Newton lives in Florida and enjoys few things more than the beach. An accomplished author, he received the Robert L. Fish Memorial Award from the Mystery Writers of America for the Best First Short Story. His previous works include Horrorfrost, a chilling tale, as well as several published short stories. Edward spent a year traveling the continental United States and found something intriguing everywhere he went—this country is an amazing and fascinating place. His heart is his family and he couldn’t do any of this without his wife Treina and his amazing kids Kobe, Gage, Oliver, and Bennett.

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Tomorrow's Hero (Success #2) by Thom Collins


Author Thom Collins and Pride Publishing promote new release, Tomorrow's Hero! find out more about the sports romance and enter in the giveaway to win a signed paperback copy of North Point (Jagged Shored #1)! Good luck!

Tomorrow's Hero by Thom Collins

Word Count: 32,214
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 127

Genres:

CELEBRITIES
CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
GAY
GLBTQI
SPORTS

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Book Description


A professional footballer with a secret. Can love conquer a lifetime of fear?

On the surface, international football star Fernando Inglesias has the perfect life—his dream career, fame, wealth and a beautiful girlfriend on his arm. At twenty-nine, Fernando has it all, but success is fragile, and one mistake could destroy everything. Fernando has a secret he will never share, something that could destroy everything he’s worked hard to achieve. There are no openly gay male footballers in the professional league, and he has no intention of becoming the first.

Ibiza…the party playground of Europe—a hedonistic island where anything is possible. On a weekend trip with the boys, love is the last thing Fernando expects to find. A chance meeting with Joshua, a handsome English visitor, changes it all. For the first time, he finds himself interested in more than sex from another guy. As Fernando and Joshua grow closer, the stakes are high on both sides as they struggle to overcome their personal differences.

Can Fernando risk his career for the sake of loving another man?

Reader advisory: This book contains themes of homophobia, a mention of suicide and references to parental neglect and abuse.

Excerpt

By eleven p.m. on Friday night, the stag party had been hard at it for thirty-eight straight hours. Since they’d arrived at the airport yesterday morning, they’d been on a relentless mission to get wasted, knocking back beers with vodka chasers before boarding the flight. Now Marc, the groom, had his hand up the skirt and his tongue down the throat of a girl he’d met less than an hour before. The best man had another woman pressed against the wall, while the tell-tale jerk of her shoulder made it clear she was giving him an over-the-trouser hand job.

Fernando Inglesias watched the tawdry display going on all around him and wondered, not for the first time that day, what the hell he was doing there. He barely knew Marc Jenner, and from what he’d seen of the groom so far, he intended to keep it that way. The rest of the group were just as bad—entitled, overgrown schoolboys behaving like this was their first trip away from home. Fernando had come along for the sake of his friend and teammate Robson, the only guy on this trip he gave a stuff about. Now Robson had his arm around the shoulder of a woman in a transparent dress. There was no need for Robson to stare so obviously at her enhanced breasts when everyone in the place could see them.

And now the women—a large hen-party they’d met in the previous bar—had tagged along and made themselves a permanent fixture. Lured by the promise of free drinks and VIP club access, it was obvious they would stick with the guys for the rest of the night, perhaps even the weekend.

Fernando knew before the flight had left London that he’d made a mistake in accepting the invitation. It had been pure hell from the start. He would make sure he was unavailable for the wedding, whenever that was.

He flinched as one of the women from the hen party made a grab for his crotch. He ducked his hips just in time to keep her from getting a good handful.

“Aww, don’t be a spoilsport,” she said, pressing her breasts against him and thrusting her knee up the inside of his thigh. “I only wanna see what all the fuss is about. Know what I mean?” Her screechy laugh cut above the unrelenting beat of generic house music.

Fernando tried to pull away, but the woman would not be shaken. She put an arm around his waist and pushed her body tight against his. She reeked of cloying, overbearing perfume and gin. Fernando turned his head to avoid the worst of the smell. Like all drunks, she had no concept of how loud she was being.

“Wass-a-matter with ya?” she shouted in his ear. “You’re in Ibiza, ain’t ya? Everyone comes here to party. Don’t be so stuck up.”

She ground her body against him almost in time with the music. Fernando looked around for help, for someone to save him from this awful woman, but all the other men in his party were enthralled by the girls. They probably thought he was having a great time.

Fernando groaned. He didn’t fit in with anyone here. Even Robson had turned into a different person since hooking up with these idiots. They had been drinking since they’d surfaced around noon and made no attempt to hide it when they took a hit of cocaine to revive their flagging spirits. He’d avoided them for much of the day, working out in the hotel gym before catching some quiet time around the pool in the afternoon, but there had been no getting out of joining them this evening. When they’d finally hit the town, Fernando had been the only sober member of the group.

“They call me Becca,” the woman hollered, fluttering her false eyelashes. She licked her lips, gazing at him lasciviously. “I know who you are. I’ve seen you in the magazines—gossip sites and all that. Always thought you was hot, but man, those pictures don’t do you justice.” She giggled, an obvious attempt at coyness. “You are so much sexier in the flesh.”

Fernando clenched his teeth. This was exactly what he didn’t want—being recognised from the trashy celebrity magazines his girlfriend paraded them through, rather than as the international striker he was. Those mags were devoured by people like Becca, who seemed to believe every word they read.

“It’s not true, is it?” she persisted. “That you’re getting married to that Pritti Parlow?”

“No,” he said, looking for an escape. The bar was packed, and he’d somehow got hemmed into the corner. He saw several camera phones trained on him and Becca. Great. A photo like that could be used to support any bullshit story the gossip sites cared to invent.

“Good,” Becca said, pressing closer. “Cause you can do much better than her. Know what I’m saying? I don’t think she’s all that special. You see her everywhere, but I don’t even think she’s that pretty, which is funny considering her name. It’s all false, ain’t it? Her tits, her hair, lips… None of it’s real. I mean, no offence and all that, but I just say what I see.”

Fernando raised his eyebrows. With her frozen forehead and the duck-like shape of her mouth, Becca’s own brand of beauty was far from natural. “I have to go. Excuse me.”

Becca gripped him tighter. “I’m a model,” she continued, undeterred. “Glamour, corporate entertaining, you know the kind of thing. I’m a friend of the bride.” She gave a dismissive wave in the direction of a woman in a pink tutu and veil. “Sort of. More a friend of a friend, but who’s gonna turn down a trip to Ibiza? It’s fucking insane, ain’t it? I love it here. Don’t you, hon?”

Fernando yanked his arm out of her grip. “It was nice meeting you,” he said without conviction. “I have to go now.”

She appeared panicked, reaching for him again, but he shrugged her off. “Why don’t I come with you? How does that sound? You and me? We could go somewhere nice and quiet. Maybe your hotel.”

“No thanks.”

“I give the best blow jobs,” she shouted, spraying him with spittle. “All the guys love it. I can suck your balls dry and make your toes curl. And that’s just for starters. First night anal. I’m that kind of girl. I guarantee a good time—the best you’ll find this weekend.”

“You know I have a girlfriend.”

“But she ain’t here, is she? What she don’t know about won’t hurt her. Besides, if it’s only a blowie, like, it hardly counts as anything, does it? An’ in Ibiza at that.”

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About the Author

Thom Collins

Thom Collins is the author of Closer by Morning, with Pride Publishing. His love of page turning thrillers began at an early age when his mother caught him reading the latest Jackie Collins book and promptly confiscated it, sparking a life-long love of raunchy novels.

Thom has lived in the North East of England his whole life. He grew up in Northumberland and now lives in County Durham with his husband and two cats. He loves all kinds of genre fiction, especially bonkbusters, thrillers, romance and horror. He is also a cookery book addict with far too many titles cluttering his shelves. When not writing he can be found in the kitchen trying out new recipes. He’s a keen traveler but with a fear of flying that gets worse with age, but since taking his first cruise in 2013 he realized that sailing is the way to go.

You can take a look at Thom's Blog and follow him on Twitter.

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Yes, You Are (Second Chance Omegas #2) by Willa Okati


Author Willa Okati and IndiGo Marketing host today's blitz for second chance omegaverse romance. Yes, You Are (Second Chance Omegas #2)! Discover more about the new adult romane and enter in the giveaway!

Title: Yes, You Are

Series: Second Chance Omegas #2

Author: Willa Okati

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC

Release Date: August 27, 2021

Heat Level: 4 - Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 109

Genre: Romance, New Adult, Action Adventure, Sex/Gender Shifters & MPreg, Single Parent/Pregnancy Romance, Paranormal, Urban Fantasy, Second Chances

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Synopsis

Darian's as unique an Alpha as Coby is an Omega, but opposites attract twice in Second Chance.

Everyone always assumed small, pretty Darian would be an Omega. He ticked all the boxes -- except for the temper and the tendency to cuss a blue streak. But whatever, right? And everyone always assumed big, athletic Coby would be an Alpha. Just stood to reason -- as long as you paid no mind to his tender heart. When they met in passing as teenagers, both boys had no reason to doubt that was who they’d be. Everyone said it, after all. But everyone was wrong.

When Darian and Coby meet again in grad school, Darian’s still small and pretty but he’s one hell of a ferocious Alpha -- and tall, muscular Coby still struggles with having turned out to be an Omega. The college is short on space due to storm damage, and they’ve got no choice but to share living quarters and come to terms with themselves and their past -- and when Coby gets pregnant, their soon-to-be future.

Opposites attract like lightning and steel rods when they meet again in Second Chance, but do they have what it takes to overcome the unexpected for the long haul?

Excerpt

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Willa Okati

Keys in hand, Darian was five steps ahead before he realized Coby hadn’t budged. He looked over his shoulder. “Well? Are you coming?”

Reluctantly, taking one more glance at the admins probably to make sure this was really happening, Coby unfolded himself. He was still half a foot taller than Darian, maybe more, and he’d filled out those lanky bones into wide shoulders and legs long enough to make a man want to try and climb him like a tree. <em>I mean -- damn.</em>

But Coby didn’t walk like he used to, full of confidence. He sloped along with a slouching kind of gait that suggested bashful uncertainty, and the way he kept his head down indicated shyness, but the look on his face was nothing but pure, frustrated rage.

Darian couldn’t blame him. Hell, this was fucking with his head. He could only imagine how tangled up Coby had to feel about it. Coby, an Omega? Seriously? He made an even weirder specimen that way than Darian did in his, so what the fuck even.

Behind them, Oscar gave them a wry salute before turning to head for his single digs.

“Bastard,” Darian muttered before turning to give Coby a dose of straight eye contact. “This isn’t how I planned for things to turn out either, but since they did, we can either bitch about it or make the best of it,” he said bluntly. “So come on. Or don’t, but if that’s your call then I’m going to leave you behind. It’s not even noon and I am fucking tired. So?”

Coby looked like he was going to argue, then shook his head and fell into step. He tried to stay behind, act like they weren’t together, but his legs were too long not to catch up. When he did, Darian had the weirdest urge to take his arm. Just an urge, of course. An Alpha thing, a real throwback to the days when a gentleman would take a submissive’s arm to guide him. If he tried that now, fuck knew if this new angry Coby would try and break his elbow.

Darian didn’t do playing it safe, but unusual times called for unusual circumstances. He kept his hands in his pocket and his walk to an amble, and -- again, not his usual thing -- took a stab at small talk. Anything to calm Coby down before his head imploded. “You’re a teacher too, huh? No kidding. Makes sense, now I think of it. I don’t make sense, but I’d started the pre-classes before things turned out like they did, and I’d put in too much work to go back.”

No answer.

Annoyed, Darian tried again. He hooked a thumb backward. “That was Oscar, a friend from back home. He can be a real douche sometimes, but deep down he’s pretty decent. A good guy to count on, in case you were wondering.”

Which Darian could tell Coby wasn’t. Too lost in his own head and his flinching awareness of every single person who paused to give them either odd or shocked looks when they put two and two together. Darian would have ignored those -- he’d gotten used to them years ago -- but being with Coby made him glower at everyone, daring them to make a deal out of it, and he could only do that so much before he gave himself a fucking migraine.

One more shot. “What are you teaching?” Darian asked. “I’m math. Calculus, trig, and basic algebra as I need to.”

Coby shook his head and kept his trap firmly shut, his head so far down that his chin almost touched his chest and yep, there went the temper Darian really did try to keep locked down. Didn’t help that looking at Coby made his mouth water and that pissed him right off because for fucks’ sake, his libido needed to mind its own business right now. The rest of him didn’t like the way the Coby he remembered had changed, and his being Omega wasn’t part of that.

He stopped in front of the big man, blocking his path, and lifted his chin. “Would you mind looking at me? And while we’re at it, what the fuck besides the obvious is your problem? It’s not like this is easy for me either.”

Coby glowered at Darian and shouldered past him, strong enough to jostle him aside.

Okay. That was really it.

Darian put on a burst of speed and shouldered past Coby in turn, minus the passive-aggressive shove, and walked in front of him all the way to the housing they’d been assigned. Not much to look at, just your basic small dorm. Still, his key worked on the front door and, down the hall, the quarters he and Coby would be sharing. God help them.

Which were not bad, actually. Darian’s eyebrows went up as he took it in. Roomy enough for two grown men to move around in without knocking elbows, decent closets, a closed door that was likely a private toilet. Even a mini-kitchenette with a sink, a cabinet, and space above a micro-fridge for a coffee pot and an illegal hot plate.

And of course, twin beds shoved in opposite corners.

Darian wrinkled his nose at them. “You’re not going to be able to fit in one of those. You’ll dangle off from the shins down.”

Coby shut the door behind them, and holy shit, Darian had not expected what happened then, nor had he noticed the near-total lack of airflow in there with the windows closed. His own Alpha scent wafted out in waves that completely failed to mask Coby’s Omega scent. Gunpowder and pennyroyal. They shouldn’t have gone together at all, but somehow they did and they gave Darian an immediate half hard-on that he was glad as all hell his loose shirt covered.

The Omega -- no, don’t call him that, he’s more than just a gender -- Coby -- was looking at him now, boy howdy, his hawk eyes gone so wide that the whites showed around his irises. “You really are an Alpha. How?”

“You really want me to explain biology to you?”

Coby ignored that. “You don’t look like an Alpha.” He started to reach for Coby with one hand, then pulled back at the last second. Even so, Darian had the strangest sensation that he’d followed through. He could feel the warmth on his cheek. “You’re still little, and still pretty, and -- look at me.”

Darian resisted the urge to rub his cheek. “I don’t look like an Alpha, and you don’t look like an Omega, so aren’t we an equal pair?”

“Equal,” Coby scoffed. He wrapped his arms around himself again squeezing tight. “Do you know the kind of shit I went through when I didn’t present, and when I did --”

“About the same kind of shit I did, I’d guess,” Darian retorted. “And if you’re going to have an attitude about it all summer --”

“Like you’re one to talk!”

Darian sailed past that. Mostly because he was right. “If that’s how you want to be, then I’m setting some ground rules.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “If we can’t get along, we keep our mouths shut when we’re in the same room. No bringing anyone back here to fuck, and that includes me with Oscar -- yes, we do fuck sometimes, because neither of us is all that sold on the standard rules. Find somewhere else or it’ll confuse everyone’s nose.”

Coby looked at him, shaking his head. “I didn’t ask for this. Any of it. I didn’t ask to be an Omega.”

“Who the fuck does? I didn’t.”

“You didn’t get it, either,” Coby fired back. “And you know what? I don’t need your help. I can take care of myself. I didn’t ask to share with you.”

“No, the resident director or whoever-the-fuck he is did, so if you have a problem you can take it up with him, mkay?” It wasn’t that Darian didn’t feel any sympathy or empathy for the guy. Turning out not to be what you’d always thought was hard, right? Which meant something else needed saying. He held up a finger. “One last rule. No bullshit embarrassment. We are what we are, and we can’t change that. In here, neither of us has room to hide.”

“And you’d be damned if you even wanted to try,” Coby scoffed. He dropped his bags in a messy heap, a deliberate insult from an Omega. “So it’s really easy for you to say, isn’t it? I’m out of here. There’s got to be somewhere else.”

He stormed out, slamming the door with a bang behind him.

“Shit,” Darian said aloud. He rubbed at his forehead. Well, this was going to be a fun summer, wasn’t it?

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Meet the Author

 

Willa Okati (AKA Will) is made of many things: imagination, coffee, stray cat hairs, daydreams, more coffee, kitchen experimentation, a passion for winter weather, a little more coffee, a whole lot of flowering plants and a lifelong love of storytelling. Will's definitely one of the quiet ones you have to watch out for, though he -- not she anymore -- is a lot less quiet these days.

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