Release Blitz + Giveaway: Under The Radar by Lillian Francis

Author Lillian Francis and Signal Boost Promotions are here to promote the release of Under the Radar, a romance set in WWII. Check out today's information and enter in the back list eBook giveaway (2 Winners!)

Cover Design: Tiferet Design

Length: 138,000 words approx.


It’s 1942 and after a sexual indiscretion, US Navy pilot Zachary MacKenzie is sent to serve in the Royal Navy’s submarine service—a shockingly harsh punishment for a man who loves to fly. The submarine is oppressive and frustrating for him, and he’s marked out from his peers, publicly by being American, and privately by his attraction to men.

The only bright spot is the company of his steward, sonar operator Gethin Llewelyn. Despite the differences of rank and background, they’re drawn to each other. Gethin’s integrity complements Zach’s casual joie de vivre, and soon the friendship develops into something much more.

As the threats of war increase, the submarine is plagued by potentially hostile vessels, and circumstances lead them to suspect there’s a spy amongst their own crew. Being forced even closer together as they work for the greater good reveals a new awareness, and Zach doesn’t know what is in more danger, the vessel under his charge or his heart.

"From Polari to Polaris, it’s never been just the nice girls who love a sailor. Lillian Francis effortlessly evokes the claustrophobia and camaraderie of life—and forbidden love—aboard a WW2 submarine." – JL Merrow

Lillian Francis is a self-confessed geek who likes nothing more than settling down with a comic or a good book, except maybe writing. Given a notepad, pen, her Kindle, and an infinite supply of chocolate Hob Nobs and she can lose herself for weeks. Romance was never her reading matter of choice, so it came as a great surprise to all concerned, including herself, to discover a romance was exactly what she’d written, and not the rollicking spy adventure or cosy murder mystery she always assumed she’d write.

Twitter @LillianFrancis_


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Release Blitz + Giveaway: New Girl (Collegiate Curves #1) by A. Fae

Author A. Fae and IndiGo Marketing celebrate the release of new romance, New Girl (Collegiate Curves #1)! Learn more about the novella and enter in the $10 Amazon gift card giveaway!

Title: New Girl
Series: Collegiate Curves Series
Author: A. Fae
Publisher: A. Fae
Release Date: 4/15/19
Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex
Pairing: Female/Female
Length: 23k
Genre: Romance, New Adult, college, f/f, curvy girls. HFN, roommates

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Meg is excited to start her junior year at a new college in a small town. She’s heard plenty from other people about the Sweet Spot, a local bookstore and café, and quickly learns the Spot is indeed the “it Spot” in her new home away from home. Everything about her move seems promising save for being stuck in the transitional dorms until she can find a room to rent.

Lys is a senior art student, who spends most of her day working in the student art studio on campus. But when she’s free, she can be found hanging at the Spot or at her place in the small apartment complex, The Palms, home to many other Spot patrons and employees. As luck would have it, she is in need of a roommate and when she receives a promising phone call, she thinks she might have found the one.

The Sweet Spot is not only the “it Spot” for townies and college students alike, but it also happens to be the place where the lesbians (and gays) come to hang out a couple of times of the week. On one such night, when the sounds of karaoke fill the air, Meg and Lys have a chance meeting that goes beyond steamy fairly quickly. But little do they know their next encounter has already been made; set up by the two of them before either knew who the other was.

Will Meg find her home away from campus? Can Lys find the perfect roommate among the women in town, one who promises no partying or overnight guests? The first in the five-book Collegiate Curves novella series by A. Fae, New Girl answers these questions and more while telling the story of two women who start hot and heavy as strangers and end as much more than either ever bargained for.


I casually lifted my aviator glasses from over my eyes, using them as a headband to push back my long, stringy hair that, despite my oftentimes-heroic efforts each morning to straighten or curl it, was in desperate need of a trim and highlight. I hadn’t come to do more than check out the place, but I felt an interesting energy or vibe within the four walls of Sweet Spot—and quite a few sexy coeds to boot—so I figured I’d stick around for a bit.

I’m from a big city, and the laid-back feel of the town of Lakeshore was a refreshing change. I’d been anxious to transfer here since I was a senior in high school because their journalism program at the small, private liberal arts college was widely known to be one of the best in the country.

The only child to a single mother, my mother insisted I start with the community college close to home before moving over a thousand miles away. Now that I’m here. I’m not sure I’ll ever leave. I might even pursue my master’s when I complete my undergraduate degree.

Despite the entrance I’d made when I walked into Sweet Spot, I wasn’t necessarily an outgoing person. Confident, yes. An extrovert, no. However, I was far from reserved or shy. I didn’t mind the occasional spotlight. Considering how often we moved around when I was a kid—Mom liked to partner hop—on top of my struggling with being a size sixteen in a size zero world, fitting in wasn’t always easy. I was judged before folks got to know me.

Eventually, I learned to embrace my size, adapt quickly to new surroundings, and make friends easily. I had high hopes this transfer wouldn’t be any different. So, as I nodded absentmindedly and looked about the nifty gathering spot I’d found, I decided if I were going to find new friends anywhere, this would probably be the place to find them.

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Meet the Author

As a native Texan, Ashley dreams of cool fall days where she can sit with her laptop outside and soak in the autumn sun while the breeze blows through her hair. She can often be found settling disputes between her two chihuahuas over whose turn it is in her lap–especially when she is attempting to bring her stories to life. When she’s not avidly reading or watching movies, she’s crafting worlds on paper. Growing up she could never find people like her in the books she read and decided if she couldn’t find them in other people’s work, she would make them up on her own.

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Wrong Way Home (Criminal Delights: Taken) by K.A. Merikan

Join authors K.A. Merikan & Signal Boost Promotions in the release blitz celebration of Wrong Way Home (Criminal Delights: Taken). Find out more about this dark romance & enter in the giveaway of a backlist ebook of your choosing!

Buy Links: Amazon US | Amazon UK | Universal Link - Exclusive to Amazon and Available to Borrow with Kindle Unlimited

Length: 70,000 words approx.

Cover Design: Natasha Snow



Colin. Rule-follower. Future doctor. Witness to murder. Captive.

Taron. Survivalist. Mute. Murderer. Captor.

Like every other weekend, Colin is on his way home from university, but he’s taunted by the notion that he never takes risks in life and always follows the beaten path. On impulse, he decides to take a different route. Just this one time. What he doesn’t realize is that it’s the last time he has a choice.

He ends up taking a detour into the darkest pit of horror, abducted by a silent, imposing man with a blood-stained axe. But what seems like his worst nightmare might just prove to be a path to the kind of freedom Colin never knew existed.

Taron has lived alone for years. His land, his rules. He’d given up on company long ago. After all, attachment is a liability. He deals with his problems on his own, but the night he needs to dispose of an enemy, he ends up with a witness to his crime.

The last thing Taron needs is a nuisance of a captive. Colin doesn’t deserve death for setting foot on Taron’s land, but keeping him isn’t optimal either. It’s only when he finds out the city boy is gay that an altogether different option arises. One that isn’t right, yet tempts him every time Colin’s pretty eyes glare at him from the cage.


“When Taron looped the heavy metal collar around the slender neck and closed the padlock, his body throbbed with the excitement of knowing he owned this boy.
Was it wrong? Yes, yes it was.
Was it so, so good? Definitely.”

Themes: prepping, alternative lifestyles, disability, crime, loneliness, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, fish out of water, opposites attract, abduction, Stockholm syndrome, family issues

Genre: Dark, thriller M/M romance

Heat level: Scorching hot, emotional, explicit scenes

This book is part of CRIMINAL DELIGHTS. Each novel can be read as a standalone and contains a dark M/M romance.

Warning: These books are for adult readers who enjoy stories where lines between right and wrong get blurry. High heat, twisted and tantalizing, these are not for the fainthearted.

K.A. Merikan are a team of writers who try not to suck at adulting, with some success. Always eager to explore the murky waters of the weird and wonderful, K.A. Merikan don’t follow fixed formulas and want each of their books to be a surprise for those who choose to hop on for the ride.

K.A. Merikan have a few sweeter M/M romances as well, but they specialize in the dark, dirty, and dangerous side of M/M, full of bikers, bad boys, mafiosi, and scorching hot romance.







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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Playing Around (Rough Play #1) by Suzanne Clay

The Playing Around (Rough Play #1) release blitz makes a stop today! Celebrate with author Suzanne Clay and IndiGo Marketing and enter in the $10 NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: Playing Around
Series: Rough Play, Book One
Author: Suzanne Clay
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: April 15, 2019
Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 84600
Genre: Contemporary, LGBT, contemporary, college, new adult, bisexual, friends to lovers, coming out, group sex, voyeurism, dirty talk, ethical nonmonogamy, family issues, biphobia, family drama, athlete

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Logan and Christian have been best friends since kindergarten. After spending their entire childhoods together, it makes sense they would go to the same college: the first step toward making their futures intertwine forever as blood brothers.

But being away from home means discovering freedom Logan and Christian have never had before, and their journey of finding who they really want to be—and how they want to fit into each other’s lives—is a messy one.

When a double date with their girlfriends turns into a new, erotic experience, both Logan and Christian are shaken by it. Suddenly, they can’t continue to see each other in a platonic light. Exploring their curiosity feels dangerous even when their girlfriends aren’t an issue, but ignoring their changing feelings is impossible.


Playing Around
Suzanne Clay © 2019
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One

For years, Logan resented how his parents had made him into a workhorse. Whether the boxes of supplies were for the funeral home or the drug store, they were heavy and unwieldy, and no matter how much he protested, his parents never tucked an extra dollar into his pocket for his trouble. There was no choice—just required labor without a word of gratitude.

Moving his belongings into his college dorm was the first time he welcomed the labor. No parents telling him how to set things up. No last-minute delivery showing up right as he finished. No demands or expectations. Just welcome quiet.

He set the last of the boxes on the floor with a grunt and rubbed his arms as he studied the small room. The tight quarters weren’t much—barely the size of his bedroom at home and stuffed with twice as much furniture to accommodate two men—but he wasn’t going to complain. Not even about the bunk bed. He’d heard from his RA, Aavai, they could be broken down into two beds, and he’d get Christian to help him do so later.

“Lazy ass.”

Speak of the devil. Logan glanced over his shoulder with a smirk as Christian came in with both hands full of bags, as many as seven hanging from each hand.

“At least I know how to pack a box,” Logan said. “I can’t believe your parents let you bring all your shit in grocery bags.”

“Not all of it,” Christian fired back. He set the bags down on top of their mountain of stuff in the corner. “Shut up. You’re still lazy. You’re standing there, not even starting to unpack…”

“Why the hell am I gonna unpack when we need to work through logistics?” Logan gestured around the room. “Look at this. Two beds. Two desks. Two dressers. C’mon, we’ve gotta do some rearranging. This place looks like shit.”

“I don’t give a damn how it looks.” Christian leaned forward and launched himself face-first on the bed. Unsurprisingly, his feet hung off the edge. “Perfect.” The word was muffled, but he already sounded half-asleep.

Logan walked over. “Now, who’s the lazy ass?” He spanked him and darted away with a laugh when Christian turned on him like a wounded animal. “Get up, man! Want you to help me break this bed down.”

Christian scoffed. “Weren’t you the one who just said we’ve got too much shit in here? And now you wanna move the bed? No way.”

“If you like the bunks so much, you can sleep on top.”

Christian shot him a frown. “Me? On the top bunk? Are you kidding me?”

“You’re over six feet tall. How are you afraid of heights?”

Christian shrugged and rolled onto his side, the wall protecting his ass from another slap.

Logan rolled his eyes. “All right. Are you gonna make me spell it out for you?”

“Yeah, go ahead, spell it out.”

Of course. “If you think I’m gonna meet some girls who’re chill with crawling up a ladder to get some alone time, you’ve got another thing coming.”

The grin Christian shot him spoke multitudes. “Your ugly ass couldn’t get a girl in the first place.”

“I’ll be stealing your girl first.”

“I’d like to see you try!”

Logan laughed as he turned away. He took in the placement of the furniture and tried to visualize the best place for everything—once he moved things, he was unlikely to do it again. “Listen, just help me break apart the bed, and we can put it by the wall.”

The mattress creaked when Christian sat up. That was definitely going to put a damper on trying to be quiet when they had company over. “Nah. I wanna get a couch and put it there.”

Logan glanced over his shoulder. “We’ve got a couch in the living room. The whole point of a suite is to have another room to put our shit in instead of clogging up the bedroom.”

Christian shrugged. “So? The couch can only fit three of us anyway. What if I wanna sit down somewhere and you and our suitemates are taking up all the cushions?”

“Then you sit your ass on the floor.”

Christian stood, his eyes sparking with a familiar competitiveness. A fire lit up in Logan’s chest as Christian faced him. Logan squared his shoulders, head tipped back to look him in the eye. Christian didn’t seem the least bit intimidated when he replied, “I’m getting a couch. And I’m putting it there.”

Logan crossed his arms over his chest. “And I’m taking apart the bed and putting it there instead.”

Christian took two dangerous steps forward. Already, his hands dangled by his side, open and ready for grabbing. Logan planted his feet and held his gaze. “Winner chooses?” Christian asked.

Logan bit his bottom lip through his smile. “Bring it on, motherfucker.”

Christian barreled toward him like a bull, grabbed hold of Logan, and they began their dance.

Like any two guys who had known each other since kindergarten, they’d always done their fair share of horsing around. They’d thrown each other in the dirt on the playground when they were seven, much to the panic of their teachers, and Logan’s mom had blunted the end of a broom with the number of times she’d banged it against the ceiling when they wrestled too loudly.

They knew each other’s moves by heart at this point. Though Christian had the stronger body from years of soccer, Logan played dirty.

Christian’s hand wrapped around the back of Logan’s neck, and Logan batted his arm away before going for Christian’s waist. An early takedown might not be the best strategy, but the more unpredictable he could be, the best chance he had.

Unpredictable didn’t work. Christian spun with his tackle, and all the breath knocked out of Logan when he landed on his back on the cold tile floor, Christian’s weight on top of him.

“Couch,” Christian said with a certain smugness.

Logan lay limp for only a second to catch his breath before he exploded with energy, lashing out legs and grabbing at Christian’s shirt to get some leverage. “No deal! I didn’t give yet!”

“You’re gonna!” Christian was never out of breath this early. He sounded as calm as he’d been a few seconds ago. He caught Logan’s wrists, then pinned them to the floor over his head, his bright white teeth shining against his dark skin. “We’re getting a fucking couch.”

“No way!” Logan squeezed his thighs around Christian’s hips and twisted, trying to roll him over, but Christian pressed a hand against his stomach and held him there, as if it was easy. The full weight of Christian—most of it bearing down on his wrists, the rest coming down on his hips—was too much to shake off.

Maybe if I just tire him out… Logan didn’t stop thrashing around, his teeth gritting with the effort, and Christian laughed, the only sign of his exertion the slight tremor of his tone.

Christian bore down on him, one of his muscular legs tangling up with Logan’s to pin it down too. Their bedroom door opened just then, and they both whipped their heads to see the mortified man backing away with wide eyes.

“Oh, fuck, sorry!” And then the door slammed shut.

Silence. Christian stared at him for a few seconds.

They both started to snicker.

Christian sat on his knees, letting Logan pull away and rub his back. “Oh my God, you don’t think he—”

“I absolutely think he thought that,” Logan said through his laugh. “Holy shit. Should we go tell him?”

“Nah.” Christian’s eyes gleamed as he stood and offered Logan a hand to tug him to his feet. “He’ll figure it out when he sees all my girlfriends I’m bringing back.”

“Right.” Logan rolled his eyes, elbowing him as he walked past. “C’mon, we might as well go introduce ourselves or whatever.”

Christian got to the door first—competitive to the end—and opened it for him. “And then we go couch shopping.”

“Fuck you.”

“I won,” Christian said with a smirk.

“That wasn’t a win!” Logan led him into the living area of their dorm’s suite. “We got interrupted! That wasn’t even close to a win!”

“We don’t have technicalities in the rulebook.”

“I’ll put it in tonight.” Logan rolled his eyes. “If we’re getting a couch, you’re fucking paying my medical bills after I go to the hospital for my broken back.”


“Shut up.”

After a moment of searching the empty living room and their kitchen nook, they peered in the second bedroom and found the man who’d walked in on them.

“Hey.” Logan knocked gently on the half-open door. “Sorry, you, uh, caught us at a bad time.”

The guy threw his hands up as if he’d been stopped by police. “I’m so sorry—”

“Dude, you don’t have anything to be sorry about.” Christian leaned against the doorframe as if his head wasn’t almost brushing the top. “Just taking care of some unfinished business.”

“Shut up,” Logan threw over his shoulder and held out a hand. “I’m Logan. This is Christian. Guess we’re gonna be your suitemates?”

“Yeah, guess so!” The guy smiled as he shook Logan’s hand, though his eyes still flitted between them as if he were watching a tennis match. “My name’s Daiki. It’s nice to meet you both.”

“Daiki?” Christian asked.

“Daiki.” He nodded, but didn’t say anything more. “Have you guys met my roommate yet?”

“Nah. We just got here, but Aavai said we were the first ones in.” Logan shrugged. “We left last night, got a hotel room, got some breakfast this morning…guess we were ready to get here.”

Ready was an understatement. After twelve years of being in the same tiny town and barely able to remember where he’d first lived, the change of scenery was what Logan had been desperate for. It didn’t matter that Fulton State University was in the same state—tuition was cheaper for his parents, and the view outside Daiki’s window showed him something different.

A city, for example, that wasn’t too far away, barely visible over the roofs of their college buildings. He didn’t know what was down there besides a Waffle House, a hotel, and a gas station that carried an incredible array of candy for late-night snacking, but he looked forward to learning the lay of the land.

“I guess he’ll be here later.” Daiki rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you guys think I can go ahead and claim a bunk and start unpacking, or…”

“Tell your roommate to go fuck himself if he doesn’t like the bunk you picked.” Christian was succinct as always.

Logan laughed and shoved Christian out of the doorway. “Don’t pay him any attention. He doesn’t think much. Sports scholarship, you see.”

“At least I got a full ride.” Christian lifted his chin and smirked. “Don’t see my parents having to rob a bank just to pay for the damn place.”

“Mm-hmm. Yep, and you’re gonna be a big soccer star, and we’re all gonna say we knew you when. Uh-huh.” Logan rolled his eyes.

“I, uh, I guess you guys know each other…pretty well?” Daiki asked. “Have you been…together long?”

“I’ve known this idiot since he was trying to eat crayons, if that’s what you mean,” Logan drawled. “But that’s about it.”

Daiki’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. “Really? You’re not dating? But I thought—”

“We’re straight. Sorry to disappoint.” Christian turned on his heel and headed into the living room. “Logan, I’m hungry! Buy me a burger!”

“Buy your own burger!” Logan called and glanced at Daiki. The expression on Daiki’s face made Logan hesitate. “Hey. Sorry if you’re…” How do I phrase this? He’d heard it put a number of ways back home, and all of them had made his mom’s lips thin. He’d learned what the wrong words were only after she washed his mouth out with soap. “…he doesn’t mean anything bad. Promise.”

Daiki stared at him hard. “I hope he doesn’t, or he’s going to have an awful time at this school.”

Logan chuckled. They’d already walked past several couples holding hands around the busy campus as they found their way to the parking lot—most of them a guy and a girl, but a couple of girls and a couple of guys together too. The open display of affection would take some getting used to. “It’s fine. Seriously, no problem. It’s just not something we saw very often at home.”

Daiki leaned against his desk and glanced down at his feet, and Logan took the opportunity to size him up. The gay couples weren’t the only thing he’d have to get used to. Though Daiki didn’t appear mixed like Logan was, he still wasn’t white. As he’d carried his boxes in, Logan had seen more people of color than in his entire life just in the lobby. Their floor RA was Indian and Sikh. The girl checking them in downstairs was white, but she was being helped out by someone with dark brown skin.

FSU was a different world, one appearing as though the campus had come out of some movie that was really making a point out of being diverse. As though it had been intentionally done. As though some guy was gonna point the diversity out in his review as being unrealistic.

But here he was, standing in a room with someone who wasn’t white and who wasn’t like his best friend Christian either.

Logan spent the past twelve years thinking the white, heterosexual climate of Greenbarrow was normal. But the other students didn’t seem as surprised by their surroundings as Logan—and he wasn’t sure what he thought of that yet.

Going home after this was going to feel fucking weird.

“I guess you guys are both from down here, then,” Daiki finally said.

“Around Georgia? Yeah.” Logan shrugged. “Greenbarrow’s a couple hours south of here. Why, is my accent that bad?”

Daiki chuckled. “It’s pretty thick, but that’s not bad, I mean—”

“I got you.” Logan grinned. “You always apologize this much? What, are you Canadian?”

“No! No, I just…” He trailed off. “I guess I don’t want my roommates to hate me immediately. Especially if you two are some united front that could make my life pretty terrible.”

Daiki wasn’t a tiny guy, but he carried himself with the air of someone who was ready to be pushed around right now. Logan wasn’t a bully, and with the school’s star jock as his best friend, he’d been pretty immune to targeted violence by his classmates. But he’d never exactly stepped in and stopped anyone from being an asshole either. This is a sign. I’ve got some penance to do here. Logan was pretty sure his social calendar was going to be filled with nothing but Christian for the next four years, but he could try to do better.

“I’ll only make your life terrible if you eat whatever food I put in the fridge,” Logan said dryly, and Daiki laughed. “I’d better go catch up with Christian, or I’m not gonna get any lunch, but it was nice meeting you. Maybe we can hang out before classes start.”

Daiki stood tall, as though he’d been waiting his entire life for this moment. “Yeah! I-I mean, that’d probably be cool or whatever.”

“Cool.” Logan backed out of the room, putting his hands in his pockets. “And, uh, hey, listen, if your roommate’s an asshole, let me know. I’ll make sure he doesn’t mess with you.”

Daiki gaped at him. “Y-yeah, I’ll do that. I’m sure things’ll be fine, but…”

Penance. Logan shrugged. “Just saying. I’ll see you later.”

When he popped into his bedroom, Christian was shoving clothes haphazardly in the drawers of one of the chests. “You’re an idiot,” Logan said, huffing. “I wanted to move stuff around before we started unpacking.”

“And I wanted to get these bags out of our fucking way.” Christian scowled at him. “What? Your noodly-ass arms can’t move furniture when it’s full of boxers?”

“Fuck you.” Logan grabbed Christian’s sleeve and started walking backward, dragging him along. “Let’s go get burgers. I’ll pay if you drive my car.”



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Meet the Author

Suzanne is an asexual woman with a great love for writing erotica and enjoys spending her time confusing people with that fact. She believes there is a need for heightened diversity in erotic fiction and strives to write enough stories so that everyone can see themselves mirrored in a protagonist. She lives with her husband and cat, and, when not writing, Suzanne enjoys reading, playing video games poorly, and refusing to interact outdoors with other human beings.

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Guest Review: Inked Music by Sean Michael

Can a wealthy but bored businessman rescue a tortured musician from his self-imposed purgatory with a scorching kinky romance?

When Rene Conette attends an intimate performance at a local bar, the guitarist moves him enough that he attempts to go backstage but is stymied by the man’s bodyguard. Putting it down as not meant to be, he goes on with his life only to run into the man again, late at night at a bookstore.

Gavin Turner used to be a famous musician until an obsessed fan kidnapped and tortured him. Then it came out that he was into the BDSM lifestyle, and the court of public opinion ravaged him. He lost his Master and his self-confidence. Now he hides behind his ink and his bodyguards, who make sure he doesn’t come into contact with anyone or anything he doesn’t want to. Though it’s been years since he satisfied his needs, he doesn’t think he can trust again.

If Rene can work his way past Gavin’s defenses, they might find they complement each other perfectly.

Reviewer: Shee Reader

Rene is completely taken when he sees the mystery performer, but it isn’t until they meet again in a bookstore that he gets to talk to Gavin. Gavin’s need speaks to Rene from the start, but trust is the thing they need to build.

Being a Sean Michael book, the reader gets what they are expecting, or at least I did! A good dose of insta-lust turned love, and a generous helping of kinky sex.

I liked the characters from the outset, and although Rene wasn’t exactly relatable, I wanted him to make a connection with Gavin. There was a gentle hand given to Gavin's torture experience and his mysterious twin bodyguards (I hope they get their own story) and the courage which with Gavin let Rene in was inspiring. The way Rene helped Gavin overcome a panic attack was charming and I was so happy these guys got their HEA.

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

Release Blitz + Giveaway: I Knew Him by Abigail de Niverville

Author Abigail de Niverville and IndiGo Marketing host the I Knew Him release blitz today! Learn more about the YA tale and enter in the $10 NineStar Press credit!

Title: I Knew Him
Author: Abigail de Niverville
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: April 15, 2019
Heat Level: 1 - No Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 69600
Genre: Contemporary YA, LGBT, contemporary, Canada, YA, high school, theater, angst, bisexual, coming-of-age, coming out, interracial, slow burn, alcohol use, family drama

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In his senior year of high school, Julian has one goal: be invisible. All he wants is to study hard, play basketball, and pretend he’s straight for one more year. Then, he can run away to university and finally tell the world he’s bisexual. And by “the world,” he means everyone but his mom and best friend. That’s two conversations he never wants to have.

When he’s talked into auditioning for the school’s production of Hamlet, Julian fears that veering off course will lead to assumptions he’s not ready to face. Despite that, he can’t help but feel a connection to this play. His absent father haunts him like a ghost, his ex is being difficult, and he’s overthinking everything. It’s driving him crazy.

The decision to audition leads Julian on an entirely different path. He’s cast as Hamlet, and the boy playing Horatio is unlike anyone Julian has met before. Mysterious and flirtatious, Sky draws Julian in, even though he fears his feelings at the same time. As the two grow closer, Julian begins to let out the secrets he’s never told—the ones that have paralyzed him for years. But what will he do if Sky feels the same way?


I Knew Him
Abigail de Niverville © 2019
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
7:35 PM: We need to talk.

8:00 PM: I’m sorry.

9:17 PM: I know you’re awake.

9:20 PM: Please answer my calls.

10:00 PM: At least check your voicemail.

10:47 PM: Julian?

“Shut up Lucy,” I muttered, fingering the phone in my hands. I placed it on top of my chest and watched it rise and fall as I breathed. The glow-in-the-dark stars on Will’s bedroom ceiling had faded through the years, but they were still visible. I repeated the constellations in my head as I found them: Orion, Aquarius, Cassiopeia.

Will was already sound asleep in his bed, but I’d never been more awake. Everything I’d said replayed in my mind, every mistake I’d ever made flashing like a movie.

My phone vibrated again, and I jolted upright, the mattress groaning underneath. The message flashed on my screen as I glanced down at my hand.

I still love you.


I didn’t want Lucy to want me anymore. I wanted her to leave me alone, let me self-destruct in peace. She didn’t need my bullshit anymore. I was trying to spare her.

Before my phone went off again, I rolled off the mattress onto the floor and crept out of the room. Will barely stirred through all the commotion. I grabbed his set of keys from the desk and slipped out of his room.

Outside, the air was cool and damp. We’d started the second week of school and everything was still kind of green, but the smell of partially decaying leaves surrounded me. I sighed heavily, the breeze stinging my face. I probably should’ve put on a sweater before I stepped out, but I didn’t want to turn back now.

I ran out into the street and jogged a couple blocks, unsure of my plan, besides getting the fuck away from everything and everyone. Just being silent with the night and forgetting I was a bad boyfriend and an even worse friend. It was kind of cloudy, but some of the stars shone through. I craned my neck and walked in a tight circle, spotting the North Star and part of Orion’s Belt. Too cloudy for much else.

The sound of tires on the patched pavement snapped my attention to ground level. I stepped out of the way of an SUV and watched it inch down the road. The driver had the window rolled down, and he poked his head out as he passed me. His blond hair was slicked back, and his lips were full. He reminded me of a model.

He squinted his eyes at me, like he was trying to place where he’d seen me before. I just knew I’d never seen him before. Or had I?

“Salut,” he said, his accent thick. He must’ve been a student at one of the French schools. What was he doing in Riverview, somewhere totally anglophone? Anyone who went to the French schools and lived in Riverview was an anglophone who was good at French.

“Hi,” I said warily.

“I remember you,” he said, mouth quirking into a smile. “Last summer. Austin’s party.”

“You remember that?” I tried to place him in my memory, but I’d been drunk for a good part of last summer. Lucy had broken up with me, and I was devastated. That time, I’d really wanted things to work out.

“How could I forget you?” he drawled, smiling again. It would’ve been sweet if I wasn’t so on edge. And also incredibly sober. Drunk me always wanted everything sober me never took. Sober me was never what he remembered.

“I’m sorry. I don’t remember.”

He licked his lips thoughtfully, parted them slightly. “Let me help you remember.”

I shook my head, though part of me kind of wanted to remember. He had lips that were perfect for kissing. And the pieces were falling together in my head. An empty basement room, the air thick from smoke and humid heat. And a blond boy with messy hair with his hands on my waist. He kissed me.

“I have a girlfriend.”

He rolled his eyes. “And I’m straight.” He laughed softly and shook his head. When he regained his composure, he glanced down at me again. “Take care, you mess of a boy.”

He rolled away from me, and his car crept down the street and turned the corner. I waited until the sounds of his engine died away into the night before I dared move.

Letting out a sigh of relief, I pushed the hair back from my forehead. My whole body shook. I never expected the worlds of drunk and sober me to meet. Not this way. Not this year. We only had two more semesters of school. This wasn’t the time to change everything. It was all about surviving and moving on.

I needed to be what people thought I was. People here would never understand. Better to go away and let them find out much later. That was the way it had to be.

I breathed deeply again, trying to regain my composure. It had only been a moment, and he wasn’t a boy who went to my school. He was just a boy. Less faceless than before, but still anonymous. And people like him didn’t belong to someone like me. Not yet. I wasn’t ready for the world to see me.

My phone vibrated again. This time, it wasn’t Lucy texting. Will’s name flashed on the screen.

Where are you??

Had to get some air. I wrote. Can’t sleep.

Get over here. We got school.

I let out a grim laugh. School was the last thing on my mind right then. Lucy and boys danced in my head. I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t know how. The two were linked somehow. Lucy and my failure to love her—and the boys I kissed every time we ended things.

She deserved better than me. She deserved someone who wasn’t afraid, who told her about the storm overtaking him. Who wouldn’t let her assume he was on drugs or cheating because he was too afraid to admit he wasn’t…


I hated that word. I hated the alternatives. Hell, maybe I hated everything.

I craned my neck to look to the sky again and stared at the clouds passing over the horizon. When the wind picked up again, the frozen cold on my cheek made me aware I’d been crying.

“Shit,” I muttered, wiping at my cheek. I had to keep myself together.

This place had closed me in. I needed to survive one more year, and then I’d escape forever.


I wiped at my cheeks again as Will’s yells grew closer. He was wearing his pyjamas and jean jacket, carrying my hoodie. His flip-flops slapped on the pavement, echoing in the quiet street.

“Fuck, Jules!” he panted when he reached me. “What are you doing?”

I shrugged. “Thinking.”

He furrowed his brow. In the orange lamplight, his red hair was almost brown, and the freckles on his face were dark pinpricks. “About Lucy?”

I nodded and didn’t elaborate.

“You realize you don’t have to break up with her?” he suggested with a small laugh.

I pulled the hoodie over my head. “No, I should. We keep fighting.”

“My parents fight all the time,” he offered. “And they’re fine.”

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “I just think she’s miserable with me. I need to…let her go.”

“She doesn’t want to.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I do,” I shot at him.

Will raised his hands and took a step away. “Well, whatever. Whatever will make you happy.”

Happiness didn’t seem to be an option.

He squinted, as if he were trying to break me apart and analyze me, the wheels turning in his head as he tried to find the right question. “But you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” He’d meant to ask me something else, but I wasn’t going to give him the answer he wanted to hear.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

I followed Will to his house with heavy steps. What had only been hours seemed like a lifetime since I’d told Lucy we needed to break up. Since she’d cried and screamed about how much she loved me. Since I’d been too upset to go home to an empty apartment while my mom worked the night shift.

I slumped down on the mattress Will had laid out on the floor next to his bed. Remembering I held the spare keys in one hand, I threw them on the desk.

“I’m going early,” Will said once we’d settled under our covers.

“To school? Why?”

“Gotta practice for this group project. You wanna drive me?”

“No,” I scoffed, pulling the blanket to my chin. “Nice try.”

He laughed softly and rolled over so his back faced me. “Try to sleep, Jules.”

And then, he was out.

But sleep wasn’t easy for me. I kept thinking about Lucy and boys. And how Will was too good a friend to me. He’d let me come and go whenever I needed to. He didn’t question it anymore. Sometimes, he tried to ask the hard questions, but he didn’t push when I was in a bad way. I wished I could tell him everything. But I couldn’t. He’d assume what he wanted to assume. He wouldn’t understand.

No one could.


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Meet the Author

Abigail de Niverville is an author and composer based in Toronto, Canada. Born on the East Coast of Canada, Abigail draws inspiration from her experiences growing up there. When she’s not writing frantically, she also composes music and holds an M.Mus from the University of Toronto.

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Review: Devil in the Details (Death and the Devil #1.8) by L.J. Hayward

If there’s one thing assassin Ethan Blade knows, it’s how to plan a job. How to study a target, find the weak spot, and strike. He keeps his guns clean, his knives sharp, and his heart sealed away behind more locks than his precious cars. Alone but safe. Until Jack Reardon burrowed his way into Ethan’s life, his car, and his heart. This may just be the deadliest mess he can’t plan his way out of.

Jack wasn’t sure he’d see Ethan again—not after the less-than-stellar ends to their previous hookups. Even finding the assassin skulking about his apartment isn’t as reassuring as it should be, especially when he works out Ethan’s motive for being there might not be personal. That said, Jack will take any chance he can to salvage their relationship, assuming he survives whatever plan Ethan is cooking up.

Ethan and Jack had a bargain, but the parameters changed and neither are certain how to move forward—together or apart. But before they can start to renegotiate, lives, trust, and hearts are endangered by ghosts from the past. Even if they dodge their enemies’ bullets, there’s a risk of friendly fire, and when you let someone get too close, even small knives can cut deep.

After reading this all I want to say to Ethan Blade is...

That whole blushing, shy thing coupled with how fastidious he is makes him hard to resist. I think how unexpected all of that nestled next to someone that could kill you before you even noticed is what makes him that much more intriguing to me.

Anywaaaaay, enough about my crush. "Devil in the Details" I found more enjoyable than the previous novella mostly due to the action sequences. These mini-stories are vital to the overall story arc as well as the development of Jack and Ethan's relationship. So skipping them isn't wise. Also, I've started Why the Devil Stalks Death and the events of this novella are referenced frequently so... Plus, why would you want to deprive yourself of all this action packed fun?

These two by all rights should be enemies. However, regardless of Jack being law enforcement and Ethan being a notorious assassin, they work well together and with each successive story their trust in one another is growing right before our eyes.

On the other hand, their romantic relationship is evolving through their improving communication but it's still a work in progress.

Now you may be asking...

To which I would say how about some bonafide nature sex??? #switcharoo #mindtrick

Bonus points for Tom, his anxiety attack inducing driving and his random movie references.

If you enjoy action/espionage, romantic suspense and/or imperfect characters this series is one you should enjoy.

A copy was provided by the author in exchange for an honest review.

Release Blitz + Giveaway: Moonstruck by Aleksandr Voinov & L.A. Witt

Don't miss authors Aleksandr Voinov & L.A. Witt and IndiGo Marketing's release blitz for Moonstruck today! Learn more and enter in the $25 Amazon gift card giveaway!

Title: Moonstruck
Author: Aleksandr Voinov & LA Witt
Publisher: 44 Raccoons
Release Date: 12 April 2019
Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 95,000
Genre: Romance, contemporary, friends to lovers, may/December

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Anthony Rawson is screwed. Fans, producers, and his agent are all chomping at the bit for the next book in his wildly popular Triple Moon series, but he’s got epic writer’s block and is way behind deadline. Then he reads Axis Mundi, a fanfic novel by his online friend “SirMarrok.” It isn’t just a great story—it’s exactly what the series needs.

Samir Daoud is thrilled when “Ulfhedinn” wants to meet up after reading Axis Mundi. When Ulfhedinn turns out to be Anthony Rawson himself, Samir is starstruck. When Anthony tells him he wants to add Axis Mundi to the Triple Moon series, Samir is sure he’s being pranked. And when their online chemistry carries over—big-time—into real life, Samir is convinced it’s all too good to be true.

The problem is … it might be. The book deal, the sex, the money—everything is amazing. But fame isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, and Samir is left wondering if Anthony really loves him, or just loves his book.


Grimacing, he stood and went back into the kitchen to plug in his phone. While it charged, he poured himself a cup of reheated half-day-old coffee, and as he drank it, he stared at his darkened phone. Axis Mundi was amazing. No two ways about it. He wondered what SirMarrok would think if he knew who he’d sent it to. He was probably shy and socially awkward—what writer wasn’t?—and thought he was sending this book to some other Triple Moon fan. Not the author himself.

I need to know the face behind this book.

Anthony tapped his fingers on the counter beside his phone. The two of them had chatted and emailed, even flirted a bit—okay, a lot—but they’d never exchanged photos or real names. According to SirMarrok’s administrator profile, he lived in a suburb of Seattle, so just a few hours away.

Anthony opened his email and quickly wrote out a message.


This book is fucking amazing. Would you be interested in discussing it over coffee?


Before he could think twice, he hit Send.

Even though he reloaded the page a few times, SirMarrok didn’t respond immediately.

His stomach grumbled again, and he opened the fridge to check for edibles, but nothing appealed to him. There was one lone pomegranate in the crisper, but that didn’t count for a full meal, especially after Ryan had warned him about not eating enough protein right after training. Nobody delivered pizza out here, and he might have been able to throw something together based on the two vine tomatoes, the half jar of pesto, and the red onion he’d spotted, but what he really wanted to do was sit down and read the rest of the story, even though he should probably do his fucking job and at least go up to the office to bang his head against the half novel that was mocking him from the twenty-four inch screen.

Just then, the intercom buzzed—one long, two short. Thank God, it was Chastity. He padded to the door and opened it. She held a pile of letters and a cookie tin. “Hey, do you have time?”

Code for, “You’re not writing, are you?”

“Come on in.” He stood aside and waved her into the house. “You know you don’t have to buzz me, right?”

“I know, but God forbid I let myself in while you’re in the zone.”

“Much appreciated. Fortunately, I’m not.” He started toward the kitchen. “I was reading. Checking something in the chronology.”

“So how’s the book going?” she asked.

“It’s not really going, but I’m working on it.” He resisted checking whether SirMarrok had responded. He knew stalkers and obsessives, and he wouldn’t turn into either of those. “How’re you?”

“Jesse’s off to his grandparents, so ...” She shrugged. “Kind of bored, I guess.” Between being Anthony’s bodyguard, part-time PA, and the mom of a very active eight-year-old, Chas had the patience of a Swiss glacier. Bored or not, she deserved a break.

“Have you eaten yet?”

“I have. And I brought you muffins, in case you’re interested.” She put the tin down. “Jesse didn’t manage to eat all of them, though he gave it a good try.”

“Thank you, St. Jesse, patron saint of starving artists.” He opened the tin and found one of the banana-and-chocolate ones that he loved. Beat cooking for one person while feeling guilty about not writing. “Coffee?”

“I’m too wired. I’ll make tea?”

“Sure.” He offered her the kitchen with a sweeping gesture, “Mi casa es su casa.”

She gave him an ironic glance, considering she lived on the property as part of her package (and because her last house had been torched by her crazy ex). While she went through the cupboards to assemble a teapot and hot water, Anthony demolished the muffin in a few bites, and then set up the coffee machine again.

“So, planning a long night?”

“There’s a full moon. I absolutely plan on a long night.” He had the most amazing view from the office, and he could happily spend a few hours gazing at the moon if the novel didn’t budge. The whole werewolf thing had started because some of his Army buddies had teased him about being a secret werewolf: nocturnal, “dark brooding charm,” a penchant for taking solo night hikes during full moons—all of that. And look where it had taken him.

“You getting anywhere with that book?”

Anthony groaned.

Chas laughed. “Still?”

“Still.” His eyes darted toward his phone. “Of course, then one of my fans manages to figure out exactly where the story needs to go.”

“You’re letting fans beta read for you now?”

“No, no. I told you about SirMarrok, right?”

“Sir—” Her eyes lost focus. “Oh, right. From that fan site.”

“Yeah. He finished his book. And it’s ...” Anthony sighed and threw up his hands. “It’s amazing.”

“So what are you going to do? Ask him if you can use it?”

Anthony straightened. “I’m not going to take his work.”

“No, but if it’s really that good for the series ...”

“I don’t know. Leanne will probably blow a gasket if she even finds out I’ve been reading fanfic, never mind wanting to incorporate some of it into the series.”

“If the alternative is waiting another year for the eighth book, she might be flexible.”

Anthony laughed dryly. “Good point. Well, I emailed him to see if he wants to meet and talk about it.” His stomach clenched. Had that been too forward? Didn’t SirMarrok like meeting people in real life? Might think—

“Oh, Anthony.” Chas snickered. “You’re so adorable when you’re flustered.”


She rolled her eyes. “The second you mentioned meeting him, you got all tense and pink.” She gestured at her cheeks, and Anthony could suddenly feel the heat in his own.

“I’m just a little nervous. He has no idea who I am.”

Her eyebrow arched. “Is that the only reason you’re nervous? Because he’ll find out his biggest fan is Anthony Michael Rawson?”

“I ...”

Chas laughed again and patted his arm. “So adorable.”

“Shut up.”

“Is that any way to talk to the woman who keeps the stalkers away at cons?”

He groaned theatrically. “Fine. Sorry. And yes, it is the only reason I’m nervous about meeting him.”

“Bullshit it is.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

She ticked the points off on her fingers. “You blush whenever you mention him. You’re clearly more nervous about meeting him than you were about being on a panel with a bunch of your literary idols at Comic-Con. You actually think I’m going to believe for a second you’re nervous about meeting another writer who’s—”

“Okay, okay, I get it. But you’re still wrong. I’m just, okay, maybe a little intimidated by this kid.”

Chas blinked. “Intimidated? Why?”

He waved a hand at his phone. “Because he can write fucking circles around me with my own goddamned characters! What the hell am I supposed to say to him, anyway? ‘You clearly know my own world better than I do, so how much do you charge to save my ass?’” He shook his head. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have emailed him. It isn’t like I can use his book, and for all I know, he completely botches the ending anyway.”

“And how likely do you think that is?”

Anthony met her gaze, then sighed. “About as likely as me finishing book eight by tomorrow morning.”

“Sounds like he might save your ass, then.” She smirked and started to speak, but he gestured sharply at her.

“Don’t even say it.”

“Say what?”

He glared, and she smothered a laugh.

“All right, I won’t say it. But has he responded to your email yet?”

“I don’t know.” He glanced at the phone again, eyeing it like it had morphed into a spider that was about to bite his hand. “I haven’t checked.”

“Well.” She nodded toward the spider-phone. “Check it.”

He hesitated, but figured there was no point in arguing with her—there never was—and picked up the phone. He refreshed his inbox, revealing several new emails. Most were notifications about posts on threads he’d been following on the fan site, but there it was:


Holding his breath, he tapped the message.

Are you serious? Coffee? That’d be great. When/where? — SM

Anthony was almost certain that if Chas hadn’t been standing there, he’d have made a very undignified sound. Only her presence and playful scrutiny saved him.

“He wants to meet.” And Anthony couldn’t help grinning like an idiot. Probably blushing again, if the heat in his cheeks was any indication.

“Aww.” Chas grinned. “So it’s a date?”

“It is not a date.”

“Why not?”

“Besides the fact that he’s probably half my age?”

She snorted. “Or maybe twice your age?”

Anthony rolled his eyes. “Point being, I want to meet him because I want to talk writing. Maybe I can hook him up with Leanne, get his career going.” Unless, of course, he was already a seasoned writer who’d been impersonating a newbie to get his kicks. But no. No. SirMarrok had seemed really fucking genuine about everything. Anthony didn’t know that much about him in real life—they’d mostly talked writing and wolves and fan stuff. He’d kept his own life under wraps so he could be himself. Which was ironic. This whole fame thing locked him into behaviors and reputation and expectations.

“Anthony.” She folded her arms and arched her eyebrow. “It is okay to get involved with someone. You know, if you click.”

“And it’s okay not to get involved with people.” He sipped his coffee. “I’ve done just fine this long.”

Chas studied him. “You get lonely sometimes.”

He shrugged. “Happily married people feel crowded sometimes. Doesn’t mean they want the other person to leave. In my case, yeah, I get lonely once in a while.” Another shrug. “Doesn’t mean I want someone else in my space.” They’d had this discussion before, and the thought of going through the whole thing again exhausted him, so before she could answer, he held up his phone. “You mind if I send him a quick reply?”

She waved a hand. “Sure.”

He typed out, You’re in the Seattle area? What about Saturday, around lunch? You choose the location. He knew SirMarrok was working in IT—he sometimes referred to a “job” and a “boss.” And if they hit it off, he wanted the option of spending a few hours rather than being constrained by schedules and such. Damn that need for a day job for most writers. A talent like SirMarrok should be raking it in and choosing his own hours.

“So what’re you going to wear, Casanova?”

“Uh. I was planning to go kind of low-key.” Thank God he’d only given in to that author photo-related pressure after the publisher had agreed that it didn’t necessarily have to resemble him; some atmospheric black-and-white shoots and Photoshop had made sure he didn’t really look like the guy on the jacket. However, if SirMarrok was the überfan he appeared to be, he’d have seen Anthony at conventions, or on Tumblr and YouTube. “Won’t be fooling him I guess. Damn.”

“Ah, the burden of fame.” Chas put a hand on her heart.

“Well, I could use a little break. Head out to Seattle on Friday, watch a movie or something, and come back on Sunday? You want to come along?”

“Movie sounds great.” She opened his fridge and made a face. “I have a nice ratatouille bake at the house.”

“No competition from the lone pomegranate.”

“I thought so. And while I go get that ...” She pointed at the pile of letters. “A few nice ones this time.”

“That’s because you burn the nasty ones.” He finished off his coffee. “How bad were the bad ones?”

“Mostly threats over the next book not coming out.”

“Christ, every time I read one of those I want to kill a character.”

“Yeah, yeah, Mr. George R. R. Martin, we know.” She laughed. “I’ll go get that ratatouille.”

She left the kitchen, and Anthony’s gaze went back to his phone. So that was that. In a few days, he’d meet the guy who apparently knew his own stories better than he did. And much like the unfinished book upstairs, he had no idea how this weekend was going to play out.

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Meet the Author

Aleksandr Voinov is an emigrant German author living near London, where he works as an financial editor, writing coach, and complementary therapist. At 43 years of age, Voinov has written more than two dozen novels and published five novels with German publishers. After many years working in the horror, science fiction, cyberpunk and fantasy genres, Voinov is now primarily writing queer fiction.

Described as a "workaholic speed-writing freak" by fellow writers, a "creative writing class drill sergeant" by his writing 'padawans', Voinov is a self-confessed geek and has enlarged his days by 12 secret hours in return for the sacrifice of ten albino virgin pygmy hippos.

Voinov's style has been called "dynamic to the point of breathlessness" and "disturbingly poetic" by publishers and literary agents. A recurring theme in his fiction is "the triumph of the human spirit" or an individual rising to challenge the status quo in a world gone bad.

Intellectually, he is drawn to the dark side of human nature and history. As a trained historian, he is fascinated by wars, religion and the conflict between the individual and society.

Interests at the moment include WWII, medieval siege warfare, William Marshall, the Golden Age of Piracy, and whale-hunting. These interests are subject to change from one day to the other, and Voinov single-handedly sustains two bookshops in London.

Public Contact Email:
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