Showing posts with label Arranged Marriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Arranged Marriage. Show all posts

Audio Tour: Tristan (Tristan Trilogy #1) by S. Legend

 

Author S. Legend and Gay Book Promotions visit on the Tristan (Tristan Trilogy #1) audio book tour! Learn more about the Curtis Michael narrated arranged marriage fantasy today!
 

AUDIOBOOK OUT NOW

Book Title: Tristan

Author: S. Legend

Publisher: S Legend Fiction

Narrator: Curtis Michael

Release Date: November 24, 2021

Genre:  Arranged Marriage M/M Romance, fantasy

Tropes: Enemies to lovers, age gap

Themes: Self-discovery, forgiveness

Heat Rating: 4 flames     

Length: 9 hours    

It is not a standalone story. Tristan is book one of the Tristan Trilogy. The story ends on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links

Audiobook Out Now

Audible US  |  Audible UK

Also available in Kindle Unlimited, Hardback and Paperback

Amazon US   |  Amazon UK  

An alliance forged through marriage.  The cost?  One Man’s dream.

Blurb 

An alliance forged through marriage.  The cost?  One Man’s dream.

Tristan dreams of the day he’ll succeed his father as the next Warlord of Markaytia.  Elves—creatures famous for their darker passions and tantalizing culture—approach the Markaytian king with an offer he can’t refuse: an alliance with the Elves for the one Tristan Kanes. 

Tristan is forced to give up his dream. 

He’s not thrilled, but Tristan is a man of duty above all else.  What choice does he have?  He cannot refuse the king or Markaytia. He begrudgingly comes to terms with the arranged marriage. Is he a tad sour about it?  Yes, but he’ll get over it.  

Probably.

Maybe it won’t be so bad.  Elves have cool weapons, maybe he’ll get one? 

Corrik bans him from cool weapons.

Corrik’s seen Tristan’s gruesome death on the point of a sword in a prophetic vision.  He bans Tristan from picking up a sword ever again.  Tristan wants to accept the marriage with grace to make his people proud, but he resents Corrik for his remorseless attitude over his life’s work.

Facing the Ice Prince and himself.

Tristan’s conflict follows him on the journey to the mysterious Elven land of Mortouge.  He hates Corrik for taking him from the life he loved, boy does he, but his new Elven husband is an enigma and he’s captivated.  He sets Tristan’s blood on fire and freezes it at the same time.  Corrik unravels Tristan’s true nature and despite his best efforts, Tristan falls for his ice prince. 

But Corrik won’t bend.

Corrik wants to be obeyed.  He’s demanding and possessive.  He’s overbearingly protective. 

Can these two find a suitable compromise?  Or will Tristan’s resentment and Corrik’s arrogance ruin forever their chance at love?

Tristan by Mock (S. Legend) is a gay romance fantasy featuring enemies-to-lovers vibes, an age gap, arranged marriage, first times, and a happy ending (um, eventually). This is the first action-adventure romance in the Tristan Trilogy.  Mock may have written it down, but truly it’s told by your lovable host, Tristan Kanes.  He’s funny, sarcastic and while it may not seem it at times, he’s the real person in charge of this story.

Excerpt

I remember the day I was called to the Great Hall alone, which set o all kinds of warning bells. Lucca and I were attached at the hip then and were usually called to the Hall together. In hindsight, I think it was because my uncle, King Amarail Kanes, knew Lucca would react poorly when he heard the news.

I walked into the hall with my stomach already churning and when I saw that my father and uncle were not alone, it plummeted like it had been shoved in ice-cold water.

That was when I saw him for the rst time.

The power of his features came from what wasn’t there, rather than from what was. The man was devoid of imper‐ fections; not one thing about his face or his body hinted to a deciency. There was no weakness in his impenetrable demeanor—the man was used to winning and getting what he wanted. His cold purple eyes knew no warmth or sunshine and sat as sentinels atop the high bridge of his patrician nose, complementing the supercilious manner that surrounded him. Without a smile on his face, he looked cruel and stony. At the same time, there was no darkness in him, whatsoever. Gold hair owed long over silver robes that were open to reveal porcelain white skin; unmarred, and solid. The breezy, pretty robes did nothing to diminish the restrained force of his chest and abdomen muscles—he seemed to dominate the eeminate attire, as if he’d already defeated it. Not a body built for eldwork, but for blood—war.

My cock stirred for him and made it impossible to deny that I was attracted to this ice mountain of a man—I blushed. This was not the place I wanted to have an erec‐ tion. I shifted my eyes away from the prince, down to my boots, placing my hands over my crotch.

“King Vilsarion, Prince Corrik. This is Tristan, my son,” Father introduced me.

“Welcome,” I said, giving a deep bow to each using the Markaytian etiquette Papa taught me, then I took my place beside Papa.

“Tristan,” my uncle said. “We are honored to announce that we have reached an alliance with Mortouge.”

I smiled my best smile. Absolutely, bloody fantastic! The Elves didn’t align themselves with just anyone and knowing what I knew of the recent unrest in the Northeastern Plains, since we helped them a while back, I knew it was best to have as many strong alliances as possible, if the Kanes were to maintain our hold of Dragon’s Rock. For the rst time in millennia, we had to take extra measures to protect Markaytia’s crown city.

“That is excellent, Sire.” I turned to the Elven king. “I’ve been named as successor to my father at my coming-of- age ceremony, and as future Warlord, I will look forward to dealings with your Warlord. We Markaytians could learn from your teachings. I’ve read much about your weapons—I know you forge the best ones,” I gushed.

I wage for peace, but war is inevitable and the prospect of ghting alongside an Elf was exciting. All I knew of Elves at the time was of their weapons and great wars. I had little interest in their other qualities. The Elves are a beautiful, mysterious race, but I didn’t see much use getting involved in their politics or anything else about them since they were also a private race who didn’t often allow outsiders into their grand kingdom.

I didn’t expect the Elven king to frown at my words. The smile on his face lit up the room before, and especially standing next to his grouchy-looking son, the contrast was far reaching. I turned to look at Papa, confused, and he took a sharp breath, ready to cry. Father stepped between us; his dark eyes pinned me in place.

Uncle continued. “The alliance will be sealed with a marriage, Tristan. You to Prince Corrik.”

The displeasure must have been plain on my face, though I tried for the life of me to hide it.

About the Author 

Some of you know her as Mock, others as S. Legend, or Miss S.  She welcomes all names but will often go by Mock, a name given to her by her readers.

Mock is an ambitious creative, weaving the most precious aspects of her soul into stories.  She is an architect, building fascinating worlds, designed from inquiry, rooted in worldly wonderings.  It’s an intuitive process where she is the scribe, the translator, the conduit. 

It helped that storytelling was the language spoken at home.  One simply didn’t say, “We have an ant infestation. ” In Mock’s family it was, “I was on my way to the living room, when a peculiar ant crossed my path.  I looked to my right, a suspicious line of them marched toward the pantry.  In that moment I knew; my kitchen was under siege.”  The natural flow of conversation always took this form.  

And so. 

When Mock wrote her first novel, she didn’t plan it chapter by chapter, there was no outline, no “plotting” to speak of.  But she didn’t “pants” it either, she didn’t make it up as she went along.  She knew how the story felt, where it curved in places and hollowed in others; she knew the destination it rushed toward.  Instead of orchestrating, she let the world inspire her, and held space for the words to come, trusting the characters knew what they were doing.  All she had to do was tell a story, as she always had done; like breathing.  

This is her peace, her healing and solace: Gifts better shared.

Mock’s works are the comfort you seek when you need to come home.  Her unique writing style will take you, wayfaring reader, to unexpected destinations. 

She always says, “I’m not in the business of making up stories, I couldn’t if I tried.  I’m lucky enough to get picked to share someone else’s story when I ask a question to the universe.  Someone answers; I write it down.” 

Social Media Links

Blog/Website  |   Facebook  |   Twitter  |  Instagram  

Newsletter Sign-up: Can either sign up at the website or email

Pinterest  |   BookBub

About the Narrator

Curtis Michael is a worldly creative and proud member of the LGBTQ+ and BIPOC communities. Having traveled and taught drama overseas for upwards of the past decade, he has somewhat recently taken up voice acting and narration. You’ll hear some of the flavourings of his experience in the Tristan audiobook, as the characters are wildly inspired from not only the world of Tristan, but also Curtis’ different cultural encounters. With two dogs, two cats and a Corrik of his own, Curtis currently resides in Southeast Asia. He can be found on the many beaches or secluded in his vocal booth poring over juicy stories at every chance he gets.

Website  |  Instagram

Hosted by Gay Book Promotion

Audiobook Release Blitz: Tristan by S. Legend


Author S. Legend and Gay Book Promotions celebrate the audio release of arranged marriage fantasy romance, Tristan! Learn more about the Curtis Michael narrated book today!
 

AUDIOBOOK OUT NOW

Book Title: Tristan

Author: S. Legend

Publisher: S Legend Fiction

Narrator: Curtis Michael

Release Date: November 24, 2021

Genre:  Arranged Marriage M/M Romance, fantasy

Tropes: Enemies to lovers, age gap

Themes: Self-discovery, forgiveness

Heat Rating: 4 flames     

Length: 9 hours    

It is not a standalone story. Tristan is book one of the Tristan Trilogy. The story ends on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links

Audiobook Out Now

Audible US  |  Audible UK

Also available in Kindle Unlimited, Hardback and Paperback

Amazon US   |  Amazon UK  

An alliance forged through marriage.  The cost?  One Man’s dream.

Blurb 

An alliance forged through marriage.  The cost?  One Man’s dream.

Tristan dreams of the day he’ll succeed his father as the next Warlord of Markaytia.  Elves—creatures famous for their darker passions and tantalizing culture—approach the Markaytian king with an offer he can’t refuse: an alliance with the Elves for the one Tristan Kanes. 

Tristan is forced to give up his dream. 

He’s not thrilled, but Tristan is a man of duty above all else.  What choice does he have?  He cannot refuse the king or Markaytia. He begrudgingly comes to terms with the arranged marriage. Is he a tad sour about it?  Yes, but he’ll get over it.  

Probably.

Maybe it won’t be so bad.  Elves have cool weapons, maybe he’ll get one? 

Corrik bans him from cool weapons.

Corrik’s seen Tristan’s gruesome death on the point of a sword in a prophetic vision.  He bans Tristan from picking up a sword ever again.  Tristan wants to accept the marriage with grace to make his people proud, but he resents Corrik for his remorseless attitude over his life’s work.

Facing the Ice Prince and himself.

Tristan’s conflict follows him on the journey to the mysterious Elven land of Mortouge.  He hates Corrik for taking him from the life he loved, boy does he, but his new Elven husband is an enigma and he’s captivated.  He sets Tristan’s blood on fire and freezes it at the same time.  Corrik unravels Tristan’s true nature and despite his best efforts, Tristan falls for his ice prince. 

But Corrik won’t bend.

Corrik wants to be obeyed.  He’s demanding and possessive.  He’s overbearingly protective. 

Can these two find a suitable compromise?  Or will Tristan’s resentment and Corrik’s arrogance ruin forever their chance at love?

Tristan by Mock (S. Legend) is a gay romance fantasy featuring enemies-to-lovers vibes, an age gap, arranged marriage, first times, and a happy ending (um, eventually). This is the first action-adventure romance in the Tristan Trilogy.  Mock may have written it down, but truly it’s told by your lovable host, Tristan Kanes.  He’s funny, sarcastic and while it may not seem it at times, he’s the real person in charge of this story.

Excerpt

Hi. I’m Tristan Kanes. At least I was once upon a time. Tomorrow, who knows who I’m going to be? But I digress. I’m getting ahead of myself as usual. I’ll back up a bit. I thought it would be a good idea to attempt to run away from my destiny, but destiny tends to follow a person.

I’ve reached the upper ridges of Markaytia’s North Wood and I’ve been gone for several hours. Lucca will come after me soon. I creep to the edge of the plateau and look out to her, to Markaytia. Tomorrow, I’m to marry an Elven Prince. I know it sounds luxurious, every boy’s dream and all, but it isn’t that simple.

I must give up my entire life for this man.

It’s not long before I hear footsteps I recognize behind me. I’m certain of whom it is. I don’t even turn to look, until the tree branch pokes into my back.

He wants to fight me today, does he? I jump up with lightning speed, conditioned from the day I could stand on two feet and because I always take reconnaissance of my surroundings, I know there is a stick for me to use against him, two feet away. I snatch it up and take a defensive stance against my assassin. I strike, slice, slash, pierce, and segment his pathetic battle strategy—well, pathetic against mine. My cousin is a formidable swordsman—I outsmart him at every turn with my dexterous footwork and accom‐ plished foresight.

We’ve fought in many battles since the time we were fifteen and trained together from almost the moment we sprang from the womb—it’s in our blood. Peace is a warrior’s mission, yet in succeeding, he renders himself useless. It makes him no less driven to battle. Peace is a fleeting season, even for Markaytia, and I sense that this season of peace has had its turn and war is on the horizon. Either way, everywhere is dangerous now and the people need protection. War will continue to happen whether I want it to or not and when it does, I want to be the one leading the troops.

Now to convince my husband-to-be of that.

About the Author 

Some of you know her as Mock, others as S. Legend, or Miss S.  She welcomes all names but will often go by Mock, a name given to her by her readers.

Mock is an ambitious creative, weaving the most precious aspects of her soul into stories.  She is an architect, building fascinating worlds, designed from inquiry, rooted in worldly wonderings.  It’s an intuitive process where she is the scribe, the translator, the conduit. 

It helped that storytelling was the language spoken at home.  One simply didn’t say, “We have an ant infestation. ” In Mock’s family it was, “I was on my way to the living room, when a peculiar ant crossed my path.  I looked to my right, a suspicious line of them marched toward the pantry.  In that moment I knew; my kitchen was under siege.”  The natural flow of conversation always took this form.  

And so. 

When Mock wrote her first novel, she didn’t plan it chapter by chapter, there was no outline, no “plotting” to speak of.  But she didn’t “pants” it either, she didn’t make it up as she went along.  She knew how the story felt, where it curved in places and hollowed in others; she knew the destination it rushed toward.  Instead of orchestrating, she let the world inspire her, and held space for the words to come, trusting the characters knew what they were doing.  All she had to do was tell a story, as she always had done; like breathing.  

This is her peace, her healing and solace: Gifts better shared.

Mock’s works are the comfort you seek when you need to come home.  Her unique writing style will take you, wayfaring reader, to unexpected destinations. 

She always says, “I’m not in the business of making up stories, I couldn’t if I tried.  I’m lucky enough to get picked to share someone else’s story when I ask a question to the universe.  Someone answers; I write it down.” 

Social Media Links

Blog/Website  |   Facebook  |   Twitter  |  Instagram  

Newsletter Sign-up: Can either sign up at the website or email

Pinterest  |   BookBub

About the Narrator

Curtis Michael is a worldly creative and proud member of the LGBTQ+ and BIPOC communities. Having traveled and taught drama overseas for upwards of the past decade, he has somewhat recently taken up voice acting and narration. You’ll hear some of the flavourings of his experience in the Tristan audiobook, as the characters are wildly inspired from not only the world of Tristan, but also Curtis’ different cultural encounters. With two dogs, two cats and a Corrik of his own, Curtis currently resides in Southeast Asia. He can be found on the many beaches or secluded in his vocal booth poring over juicy stories at every chance he gets.

Website  |  Instagram

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

Release Blitz + Giveaway: Between Empires and Continents (Luxor City #2) by Sasha Hope


Author Sasha Hope and IndiGo Marketing return with a new release blitz for the latest in the urban fantasy omegaverse series, Between Empires and Continents (Luxor City #2)! Find out more and enter in the $10 NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: Between Empires and Continents

Series: A Luxor City Novel

Author: Sasha Hope

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 05/10/2021

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 55300

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, Romance, futuristic, urban fantasy, gay, bisexual, Alpha/omega dynamic, cruise ship, traveling in disguise, bodyguard, arranged marriage

Add to Goodreads



Description

Luxor City, a once lawless metropolis on the brink of civil war, is now at peace, but even in lighter times there are always shadows. In the technicolor streets of the Southern Empire, Junsu Sun, the Alpha heir to one of Luxor City’s great crime families, busies himself by dealing with a blacklisted group known as the Underground.

After taking down one of the Underground’s notorious leaders, Junsu assumes he’ll be given time to rest and recuperate, but his mother, Alpha Xijuan Sun, has a new mission for him, involving a luxury cruise and a new mate, Omega Kaito Yamaguchi, of the powerful Yamaguchi family. Ever the dutiful son, Junsu obeys his orders as if it were any other mission, but this sort of engagement isn’t exactly the type of thing he’s used to and Kaito Yamaguchi certainly isn’t the sort of Omega he’s used to either.

Kaito is impatient, impassable, and impossible. He’s a spoiled Omega who is pissed off that his family have reorganized his life and thrust him into this arranged mating with some Luxor City Alpha he’s never met before. Kaito hasn’t even seen a picture of Junsu Sun, a fact that Junsu uses to his advantage.

Faced with a week spent trapped on a luxury cruise with a rude, bratty Omega who doesn’t even know who he is, Junsu decides to play a little trick on his future mate. But just how far will he let things go and where is the line between a little trick and a painful deception?

Meanwhile, other secrets floating between empires and continents are about to spill out onto the deck.

Excerpt

Between Empires and Continents
Sasha Hope © 2021
All Rights Reserved

The Southern Empire glittered like a neon jewel at the tip of the vast island metropolis that was Luxor City, offering visitors and locals alike a chance to live another life. Between the intersections of technicolor streets, every threshold was another opportunity to experience the height of southern entertainment and luxury. The South’s booming city center was a shining district renowned for its fine dining and nightlife. People from all over the world sailed for weeks just to pay a visit. But, as is the trouble in all cities, dark corners filled space among the shadows cast by dazzling lights.

Junsu Sun was proud of the Empire he would one day inherit. Recent increases in corruption were no surprise in a city founded largely on the drug trade between Luxor and the Second Continent. Still, Junsu wasn’t pleased to find out just how deep the opium-coated rabbit hole went. The underground world that had been built up in the back alleys between skyscrapers both enraged and fascinated him to no end.

Since the unification of Luxor City and the newfound peace between the island’s three territories—North, Central, and South—Junsu had been on a quest to know more about his Empire and the inner workings of their expansive business. As the sole heir to Xijuan Sun, the aging Alpha of the Southern Empire, he was starting to feel the weight of duty falling more and more heavily upon his shoulders. Despite only occupying the southern tip of Luxor City, the territory his family’s Empire encompassed was vast and densely populated.

Junsu had no idea what went down in some of the red-light hotspots dotting the city’s entertainment district, but over the past few weeks he’d been carefully slipping into the inner circles of some of the city’s most notorious gangsters, learning more and more about the Southern underbelly, what the Sun family and their allies simply called the Underground.

This was how he found himself sitting around a table playing Mah-jongg with a group of Alphas his mother would have killed as soon as she’d looked at them. These were members of the Underground, people whose fidelity to the Sun family was always in question. They stepped around rules and edicts to run their shady district nightclubs off the grid.

This evening, however, they were all sitting together glowering at Mah-jongg tiles with knowing black eyes.

Four Alphas were seated as is required in Mah-jongg, one person per side of a perfectly square table: North, South, East and West. Junsu occupied the East seat. He leaned into a soft chair with its back to a large loading bay door. Though prominent industrial pieces of architecture were blatantly scattered about the Underground hideout, there was a luxury apparent in the chic den only the highest rollers could afford. Eccentric art pieces decorated the walls and were often lit with neon beams, adding ambience to the eclectic atmosphere.

Junsu hadn’t been expecting this Underground gang to literally be inside an underground venue, but he found something vaguely amusing about their headquarters. In the darkness, dull violet lights illuminated the faces of gamblers and socialites. Their smirking features glowed in an ominous manner. The exposed piping above their table rattled and hissed, probably taking on the tide water from the nearby shoreline. The noise was almost drowned out by the pounding music coming from the club on the floor above.

Junsu stared down at his onyx and jade Mah-jongg tiles, running his thumb over one of the gold-painted engravings marking it. He smiled at his latest pick and flipped his pieces down onto the table, showing off the winning hand.

“My game again,” he uttered before reaching a lazy hand over to his drink. He hid a smirk around the rim of his glass as the rest of the Alphas at the table groaned.

Junsu, the newcomer, had won his third game in a row.

“You know, Sun. It’s only polite to let your elders win sometimes,” the middle-aged man at the West side of the table grunted around the end of a newly lit cigarette. He was the Underground’s leader, an Alpha called Naoto Kim. His wrinkled features were drawn up in a smirk, visibly amused by Junsu’s luck even while his eyes were narrowed with a hint of suspicion.

Junsu could see it, but he simply chuckled and moved his tiles back into the center of the table. He was lucky to have secured this meeting with Naoto Kim, but he wasn’t about to lose on purpose just to stroke the other Alpha’s ego.

“My mother is a good teacher,” Junsu murmured as he drew a hand over the tiles, mixing them about over the velvet-covered tabletop. In contrast to this venue, his mother had a few high-tech tables back in the casino capable of shuffling themselves. Her tables moved the tiles into a mechanical repository under the green velvet before restacking and dealing them out in neat piles. Naoto’s club was a little passé, but Junsu was polite enough not to mention it.

Naoto’s lazy gaze traced Junsu’s hand as it moved over the tiles while he shuffled. With gritted teeth, he laughed to himself before taking a long drag off his cigarette. Smoke billowed from between his lips, momentarily obscuring his glaring eyes.

“I bet you regret inviting the Sun kid over for playtime now. Hey, Seijin?” Tae, the man on the North side of the table, said to the man at the South.

Seijin didn’t look too happy. As a younger member of the gang, his pockets weren’t anywhere near as loaded as his fellows’ and Junsu had practically emptied them out.

Junsu had met Seijin through a contact who’d infiltrated the Underground. Buddying up to the young Alpha had been a cinch. After a few meetups, money had exchanged hands and Junsu eventually convinced Seijin to let him in on one of their Mah-jongg games to give him a chance to meet with Naoto Kim. Junsu had a particular interest in the Underground membership and their trade. They were an up-and-coming group and, despite the conflict between the Underground and the Sun family, Junsu had paid great attention to their business.

“Look, Junsu didn’t come here to play Mah-jongg. All right, Tae?” Seijin snapped back. “He’s not just here to fleece me.”

“Seijin’s right,” Junsu said with a nod. He tossed a few tiles across the table with an absent flick of the wrist. “I didn’t come here to play. I came for business.”

Naoto stared at him, still glaring down the end of his cigarette. “Not sure if we need your mother’s business,” he muttered in response.

“Not hers. Mine,” Junsu replied curtly.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Sasha Hope is a lover of story, art and design based in Canada. As a writer and an artist, she enjoys having the opportunity to create new characters and build new worlds for readers to explore. Having studied linguistics and a myriad of languages from a young age, she is passionate about including characters of different backgrounds in her work. Whether the setting is fantasy or reality, she believes that a diverse cast with diverse languages and cultures is a wonderful thing.

Crafting stories that embrace MM romance and erotica is her modus operandi. When she is not creating new worlds she is travelling this one looking for inspiration or enjoying her career in the videogame industry.

Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest |Tumblr

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Release Blitz: Wishes for Rohi (Jinn and Tonic #1) by K.L. Hiers


Author K.L. Hiers and Gay Book Promotions celebrate the fantasy romance release, Wishes for Rohi (Jinn and Tonic #1)! Check it out and also the $20 Amazon gift card giveaway!

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Wishes for Rohi

Author: K.L. Hiers

Publisher: Self-Published

Cover Artist: Reese Dante

Release Date: March 26, 2021

Genre: Fantasy Romance 

Trope/s: Arranged marriage, fish out of water, falling in love with the wrong brother, magical mpreg

Themes: Love Overcomes All Things

Heat Rating:  4 flames 

Length: 53 000 words

It is a standalone story.

Add on Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |   Amazon UK 

Blurb

Ashley Mostrich gets one heck of a birthday surprise when the guy he brought home for the night turns out to be the twin brother of the prince he didn’t know he was supposed to marry. Unbeknownst to Ashley, his grandpa made a deal with a jinn and promised him off to the royal family before he was even born.

Zamir is the heir to the mystical kingdom of Palmyra and promises he will love Ashley in time, while his younger brother, Zaire, is trying to get into Ashley ‘s bed again. Ashley wants to be a faithful fiancé to Zamir, but he cannot deny the powerful chemistry he feels with Zaire. Additional jealousy flares when Ashley discovers that Zamir’s heart already belongs to another, but the pressure for the wedding is on because the future of the Palmyran people hinges on a royal union magically producing an heir.

Once Ashley realizes that Zaire’s feelings for him might be more than physical, he finds himself falling in love with the wrong brother and risking the fate of the entire kingdom. It’ll take a miracle—or one very powerful wish—for everyone to have a happy ending.

Excerpt

“Why does everyone keep calling me ‘savior’?”

“You don’t know? About the prophecy?” Zaire questioned slowly.

“No?”

Zaire made a sour face, mumbling a few soft curses before clearing his throat. “My brother is truly an idiot. Come with me,” he said, taking Ashley’s arm and guiding him back toward where the little girl was.

People were bringing her little trinkets and baubles, receiving a slice of the cake from her in exchange. She had a crown of flowers in her hair, well dressed, and seemed to be of some importance despite her youth.

Ashley watched for a few moments. “Who is that?”

“That is Lady Alana,” Zaire replied, waiting for the name to settle in Ashley’s brain.

“Lady Alana. Wait, she’s the birthday girl?”

“Yes,” Zaire said, something sad in his voice. “Our people are dying, Ashley. Slowly but surely, jinn are fading away. Every generation has gotten smaller and smaller, and there hasn’t been a new jinn child born in over thirty years.”

“Thirty years... Alana was the last one?”

“Yes. Even with all our proper breeding and perfect little arranged marriages, every mating ritual since her birth has failed. But there’s a prophecy, you see, that a royal wedding will bless the entire kingdom with an entire new generation of children.”

“Wait a damn second, that little girl is freakin’ thirty?”

“Yes,” Zaire huffed impatiently. “We don’t age as humans do. Now, do you understand why you are so important?”

“Everyone actually believes that me getting knocked up by your brother or me knocking him up is the future of your entire race?” 

“Mmm, pretty much. It’ll probably be you getting knocked up, to be honest. But you know, no pressure!”

“Fuck,” Ashley mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face and chugging his drink.

“My brother knows what’s at stake,” Zaire said gently, a tone meant to be comforting. “He will make amends for his behavior, I know it.”

“Do you believe the prophecy?” 

Zaire’s brows furrowed, and he glanced down at his mug as he thought over the question. He took a small sip before he said, “I believe that other people believe it’s true. I’ve never been much for fate or destiny. I much prefer the idea that I’m in control of my own life.”

“You realize this makes what you did even more screwed up?”

“Hmm?”

“If the prophecy is real, you risked the future of your race just to piss off your brother.”

“First of all,” Zaire drawled, wagging his finger, “I never planned for ‘what we did’ to go that far. I truly had no intentions of having sex with you. I was expecting to find a blushing virgin, not an insatiable bedroom hellcat—”

“A bedroom what now?”

“And second of all,” Zaire went on with a smirk, “it was quite impossible to think about the good of my people once I had tasted your gorgeous flesh.”

“Zaire!” Ashley protested, whipping around to see if anyone was listening. He stared back at Zaire, and he suddenly realized that although he could hear his voice, his lips were not moving.

“When you were screaming my name, all I thought about was wanting to hear that sweet sound as many times as I possibly could.”

Ashley gulped, blood creeping up into his cheeks as he stammered, “That’s… that’s, uhm, that was very s-selfish of you.”

“I know,” Zaire said out loud with a smug little smile. “I’m a very selfish person. At times, quite envious as well.”

“Envious?”

“Seeing my brother get all the things I want for myself has become a bit tiresome,” Zaire replied, his lips not moving again, and yet his voice was fully in Ashley’s ear as he stepped into his space. “Not very fair at all.”

“How, how are you doing that?” Ashley hissed, instinctively backing away.

“Doing what?” 

“The talking without talking.”

“Magic,” replied Zaire’s voice in his ear.

“You’ve gotta stop saying those kinds of things,” Ashley barked, cringing when he noticed his raised voice earned them several curious stares.

“Hmm, I didn’t actually say a thing,” Zaire pointed out smugly.

“Fine! Stop not saying those things!” 

About the Author 

K.L. “Kat” Hiers is an embalmer, restorative artist, and queer writer. Licensed in both funeral directing and funeral service, she’s been working in the death industry for nearly a decade. Her first love was always telling stories, and she has been writing for over twenty years, penning her very first book at just eight years old. Publishers generally do not accept manuscripts in Hello Kitty notebooks, however, but she never gave up.

Following the success of her first novel, Cold Hard Cash, she now enjoys writing professionally, focusing on spinning tales of sultry passion, exotic worlds, and emotional journeys. She loves attending horror movie conventions and indulging in cosplay of her favorite characters. She lives in Zebulon, NC, with her husband and their children, some of whom have paws and a few that only pretend to because they think it’s cute.

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Witch, Cat, and Cobb by J.K. Pendragon

 

Join author J.K. Pendragon and IndiGo Marketing as they celebrate the release of Witch, Cat and Cobb! Check out more info from the new fantasy romance and enter in the $10 NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: Witch, Cat, and Cobb

Author: J.K. Pendragon

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: December 14, 2020

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 21700

Genre: Fantasy, LGBTQIA+, Fae/fey/fairies/faeries, Fairy tales, Humorous, Magic/ Magic users, Mythical creatures, Witch, Arranged marriage, Royalty, Transgender, Transspecies, #ownvoices

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Synopsis

Destined for an arranged marriage she wants nothing to do with, Princess Breanwynne decides her only option for escape is to run away. After announcing this plan to her trusted cat, Fen, she’s shocked when he asks that she take him along. 

Following his suggestion to venture into the lair of the Swamp Witch begins a life-altering adventure and reveals shocking information that will lead to more than one happily ever after—if she and Fen survive.

Excerpt

Witch, Cat, and Cobb
J.K. Pendragon © 2020
All Rights Reserved

I was not accustomed to swamps.

I had been warned about the dangers of swamps, of course, as all children were, and knew the likelihood of traversing the swamp without grave peril befalling me was dismally low. But somehow, in the course of plotting my grand escape, I hadn’t given that fact as much thought as I should have. And to pay for it, I was knee-deep in muck with a cat’s claws digging painfully into my shoulders.

“Don’t make any sudden movements!” said Fen, digging his claws even deeper into my shoulder until I was certain he had latched onto my bone. “It’ll only make it worse.”

“Make it worse?” I screeched at him. “How could this possibly be worse?”

Fen released his front claws from my neck and placed them gently on my head, “I’ve heard about this sort of ground. If I’m right, it’ll be a few hours before it’s swallowed you whole. Whoops!” He had jumped up onto my head, his back legs scrambling over my ear and causing me to shout in pain as his claws grazed me.

“Ouch!”

“Shh, I’m balancing.” He turned delicately on my head and crouched, wiggling his backside for good measure. “Anyway, you don’t know what sort of creatures you’re likely to attract, making so much noise.” He jumped, shoving me deeper into the muck as he did so, and caught a branch, scrambling up and then perching deftly to look down at me. His normally tawny fur was black in silhouette against the full moon, his eyes a green glint in the otherwise dark swamp.

“I should never have trusted you,” I said, glaring up at him. “You’ve led me to my death!”

“I haven’t!” called Fen, sounding offended. “Anyway, you agreed the swamp was the best choice because no one would come looking for us!”

“And no one will find us even if they do!” I squeaked.

“Hush.” Fen took a step forward, and the tree shifted as he arched his back, swaths of witch’s hair dipped into the muck next to me. He took another step forward, and the branch swayed and bowed downwards. “There, see? Grab that.”

I did so, tangling my fingers in the greasy mats. My shoulders shook as I pulled hand over hand to drag the lower half of my body out of the muck. I was glad I had thought to change into my riding breeches before leaving the castle. Fen made a very un-catlike screech and raced up the tree as it buckled further under my weight.

At last I managed to pull myself up and crawl over to where I hoped the ground was more solid. I let go, falling to the forest floor with a whump and sat, collecting myself. Fen landed lightly on my shoulder, and I hissed at him, causing him to scuttle away and behind the tree.

“Don’t do that,” he said presently, his voice muffled by the leaves and bracken. “Show some gratitude.”

“Right,” I said, standing and attempting to brush myself off as best I could. I was also not accustomed to being quite so dirty. “Thank you for saving me from the peril you yourself put me in.”

“You are the one who wanted to run away, Princess, if I might remind you.” Fen emerged from behind the tree and trotted up to me, jumping deftly back onto my shoulder. “I simply agreed to help you out.”

“You think I don’t know that you’ve got some sort of ulterior motive?” I asked him as I began to walk again, keeping a wary eye out for more of the muck I’d sunken into.

“What ulterior motive could I possibly have?” said Fen. “I’m a cat.”

“A talking cat, I might add. Who waited for how many years, twenty? To decide to reveal that fact to me, and not until I had mentioned I might be thinking of running away to the swamp. Why?”

“I liked the sound of it.”

“You liked the sound of this?” I gestured to the seething wet darkness around us and stopped walking. “No, tell me immediately.”

“Hmph,” said Fen. “If you must know, I’m not really a cat.”

“Fen, I’ve been undressed in front of you!”

“Oh, don’t be so full of yourself, Princess.”

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Meet the Author

J.K. Pendragon is a Canadian author with a love of all things romantic and fantastical. They first came to the queer fiction community through m/m romance, but soon began to branch off into writing all kinds of queer fiction. As a bisexual and genderqueer person, J.K. is dedicated to producing diverse, entertaining fiction that showcases characters across the rainbow spectrum, and provides queer characters with the happy endings they are so often denied. 

J.K. currently resides in British Columbia, Canada with a boyfriend, a cat, and a large collection of artisanal teas that they really need to get around to drinking. They are always happy to chat, and can be reached at jes.k.pendragon@gmail.com.

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Giveaway + Release Blitz: The Artist's Masquerade (Chronicles of Tournai #2) by Antonia Aquilante


The Artist's Masquerade (Chronicles of Tournai, #2) is out now! Join author Antonia Aquilante & IndiGo Marketing in celebrating the release of this fantasy romance, read an excerpt & enter in the giveaway for a $10 NineStar Press credit too!


Title: The Artist’s Masquerade
Series: Chronicles of Tournai, Book Two
Author: Antonia Aquilante
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: May 4, 2020
Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 109700
Genre: Fantasy, LGBTQIA+, Fantasy, romance, gay, bi, cat shifters, royalty, court intrigue, arranged marriage, artist, spy

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Synopsis

As the first-born son of a royal duke and cousin to the prince, Cathal has always put his duty to family and country first, even when it conflicts with his own wishes. When Cathal’s father arranges a marriage between him and Velia, cousin to the emperor of Ardunn, without consulting him, he sees no alternative but to go along with his plans for the good of Tournai. But it’s Velia’s companion, Flavia, who fascinates Cathal from the moment he first sets eyes on her. Cathal doesn’t know Flavia is really Flavian, an artist masquerading as a woman to escape Ardunn, a restrictive and repressive place where Flavian’s preference for men is forbidden.

Even when Cathal discovers Flavian’s identity, even as he struggles with his obligations and duty, he cannot fight his attraction to the sharp-tongued artist. Flavian is intrigued by him as well, but Cathal is still betrothed to Velia, and Flavian worries he is more taken with the feminine illusion Flavian presents than the man beneath it. He came to Tournai to start a new life—a safe one—as an artist, and an inconvenient attraction to his friend’s betrothed, a man who happens to be a member of the royal family, is not a part of his plans. While both men battle their longings for each other, spies from Ardunn infiltrate the capital, attempting to uncover Tournai’s weaknesses and secrets. They are also searching for Flavian, who possesses a magical Talent giving him the ability to see the truth of a person just by painting their portrait—something that would be invaluable to Ardunn’s emperor.

Excerpt

The Artist’s Masquerade
Antonia Aquilante © 2020
All Rights Reserved

“It’s time you took a wife.”

Cathal managed to keep his surprise hidden with some difficulty. That blunt statement was not what he’d expected when he received the summons to his father’s office. A discussion of family business, perhaps, or questions about happenings at the palace, even a diatribe about one of his cousin’s choices—since Father seemed to hate every one of them since the prince’s marriage to Amory—was what usually precipitated a call to Father’s presence.

He’d never imagined Father would bring up marriage. Cathal had seen no indication Father was even thinking in such a direction. Father had said plenty as he’d pushed the prince to marry, and plenty more when Philip had married a man of his choosing instead of the woman Father would have chosen, but he’d never said a word about his own sons’ need to marry.

Cathal probably shouldn’t have been so surprised. He was twenty-five years old and his father’s heir, and Father was a royal duke and dynastically minded. Producing an heir for the dukedom was Cathal’s duty, despite the existence of his younger brothers. He’d always known it, and he would never think of shirking that duty.

“Yes, Father.” He wasn’t interested in anyone in particular, but there were plenty of women who would make him a suitable wife in Father’s eyes. He was certain he could find someone who wouldn’t make the duty a chore. “I will begin looking for a wife immediately.”

“No need. It’s all arranged.” Father returned his attention to the papers on his desk, as if what he’d just said was of no particular consequence. As if he hadn’t just told Cathal his entire life was about to change and taken Cathal’s last bit of choice away at the same time.

Cathal snapped his mouth shut when he realized it was hanging open. “It is?”

“Of course.”

Of course it was. Cathal should have expected that as well. Father would never leave such an important choice—a family alliance, a mother for future dukes—up to Cathal. He should have done so, or at least he should have asked for Cathal’s opinion. Cathal was of age and had proven himself trustworthy time and again, or he thought he had. It left a sour taste in his mouth to think Father respected him so little.

“May I ask whom I will be marrying?” He immediately regretted his tone as Father arched a single brow.

When Cathal didn’t jump to apologize quickly enough, Father let out a huff that expressed his disappointment more eloquently than a hundred words would have, but he answered anyway. “She’s a cousin of the emperor of Ardunn. Velia is her name. Beautiful, by all accounts, and accomplished, but the connections are the important part.”

Cathal hardly heard anything after Ardunn. Cousin to the emperor of Ardunn? What was Father thinking? And how had he even managed it?

Father looked up again, and this time his huff held more than a little annoyance. “Why are you staring at me that way?”

Cathal didn’t know how he was looking at his father. Usually he had more control, but incredulity seemed to have obliterated it. “Ardunn, Father? I don’t understand. Why—?”

“Don’t be stupid. If your cousin isn’t going to do his duty and marry for the good of this country, then it falls to you to take up where Prince Philip failed.”

And that statement made even less sense. “But, Father, you negotiated a marriage contract with the emperor of Ardunn. Does Philip know?”

His cousin couldn’t know. Cathal had damaged their relationship and weakened the trust Philip had in him—he knew and regretted it—but Philip wasn’t vindictive enough to keep something so big from Cathal, especially considering the prince’s hatred of arranged marriages. Though how a prince came by such a view, Cathal would never know. Nevertheless, Philip would have said something, which meant Father had been negotiating with someone in Ardunn without Philip’s knowledge or consent.

Father scoffed. “He’ll know soon enough.”

“But, Father, negotiating with Ardunn…what did you—?”

“Are you questioning my ability to negotiate a marriage for my son?” Father snapped.

“No, sir.” Just the prudence of doing so with a powerful foreign emperor without the knowledge of their own ruler. “But—”

“This is the marriage your cousin should have negotiated for himself, but since he wouldn’t do his duty, we have to do it for him. For the good of Tournai and this family.”

“But, Father—”

“No more.” Father slapped a hand down on the wooden surface of the desk. “It’s done, and when she arrives next month, you will marry this woman. We’re finished discussing it.”

Cathal gritted his teeth against further protests and gave a sharp nod.

A few moments later, dismissed by his father, Cathal dragged in a lungful of crisp air. Spring was taking hold, but the mornings were still cool. At the moment, he was thankful for the gulp of bracing air.

That had been unexpected.

He shook his head and strode down the steps into the garden. The home where Cathal had grown up was probably the largest in the city. Constructed generations ago of pale-gray stone, the house had three stories surrounding the inner courtyard and the garden it contained. He’d played in the garden as a child with his brothers and cousin, chasing each other, hiding among the statuary and bushes. As he grew older, he’d come here when he needed a moment of peace. These days, he spent most of his time at the palace, and the garden was the domain of his mother and younger sisters, who often sat on the benches near the central fountain to do their needlework.

He didn’t linger, couldn’t have if he wanted to. Cathal couldn’t even go up to the palace and inform Philip of the betrothal, because he was due at the port to inspect improvements to the harbor defenses. Taking the most direct route from Father’s office to the front of the house, he strode through the garden and ducked inside again and then made for the entrance hall without slowing.

His sister’s melodic laugh and the quiet murmur of his mother’s voice floated back to him. Smiling, he stepped from the corridor into the grand room. His mother and sister stood at the polished table in the center of the large room. At his first step onto the red marble floor, both women looked up from where they were arranging early spring flowers in a large vase. Identical smiles of welcome lit their faces. His youngest sister looked remarkably like Mother, though Meriall was just fourteen. She was the only one of them to inherit Mother’s golden-brown hair and not Father’s much darker locks.

Each time he saw Meriall, he was surprised at how grown up she was becoming. It seemed just yesterday she was trailing after their brother Etan and getting into scrapes and jumping on her brothers whenever she saw them. Now she was a young lady. The oldest of his three younger sisters was married, and his second sister was nearly seventeen. Cathal might have expected, if he’d thought of the subject at all, Father to be negotiating a marriage for Ottilie, not for himself.

Meriall and Mother were still smiling at him, and they left off fussing with the flowers and greenery as he approached. When she was younger, Meriall would have flung herself at him. She’d learned more appropriate behavior since then, but a part of him missed her enthusiasm. Then again, she would probably still throw herself at Etan. They’d always been closer.

“Cathal.” Mother held out her hands to him and tilted her head for his kiss to her cheek. “I didn’t know you were here.”

He brushed a kiss over Meriall’s cheek as well. “Father wanted to meet with me.”

Because he was watching, he saw the flash of concern in Mother’s warm-brown eyes. Did she know her husband’s plans for Cathal? “Is everything all right?”

No, he didn’t think she knew. He doubted Father would have consulted her anyway. He flicked his glance at his sister, wondering if he should speak in front of her, but everyone would know soon enough. “Father wants me to marry.”

Mother blinked, once, twice, the only sign of surprise in a serene face. “I didn’t realize, but you are getting to be of an age to. There are many lovely girls you could meet and consider. Perhaps we can have a party and invite some of them.”

“Actually, Father has it all arranged already.”

“Oh. Well.” Mother fussed with the flowers before dropping her hands to smooth her skirt. “I didn’t realize you and your father had chosen someone. I wish you’d told me.” The statement wasn’t much of a rebuke, not the way she said it, but from his gentle mother, it was still censure.

“I wish he’d told me.” He bit back impatience. His ignorance of Father’s actions wasn’t Mother’s doing. “I only just found out myself, Mother. She arrives in a month. I assume we’ll all meet her then.”

“Arrives? From where? Who is she?”

He didn’t blame Mother for her bewilderment. “Father says her name is Velia. I only know she’s a cousin to the emperor of Ardunn.”

“The emperor? Does His Highness know?” Mother had been the wife of a royal duke for nearly thirty years. She could see the implications as well as he could.

“It doesn’t appear so.” He glanced from Mother, who was admirably controlling her surprise and concern, to Meriall and her avid, undisguised curiosity. Well, he shouldn’t be talking about Philip’s lack of knowledge of Father’s actions anyway. “You’ll have to ask Father for more information. I don’t know anything else.”

Mother frowned. “Will you tell your cousin?”

“I can’t now. I’m due at the port, and I may be tied up there for most of the day.” And he didn’t want to put this information in a note. Still, someone needed to tell Philip, and Cathal wasn’t sure when Father would. “I’ll tell him when I return to the palace later.”

She nodded. “I’ll speak with your father. We’ll see you soon?”

“Of course.” He took his leave of his mother and sister and strode out through the large front doors into the morning sunlight again. A servant appeared immediately with his horse. He mounted up and guided the horse out through the imposing gate, open in anticipation of his departure. He needed to hurry if he was going to be on time for his appointment, and he refused to be late. He would sort out the rest afterward, including informing the prince.

Philip was not going to be pleased.

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Meet the Author

Antonia Aquilante has been making up stories for as long as she can remember, and at the age of twelve, decided she would be a writer when she grew up. After many years and a few career detours, she has returned to that original plan. Her stories have changed over the years, but one thing has remained consistent—they all end in happily ever after.

She has a fondness for travel (and a long list of places she wants to visit and revisit), taking photos, family history, fabulous shoes, baking treats (which she shares with friends and family), and of course, reading. She usually has at least two books started at once and never goes anywhere without her Kindle. Though she is a convert to e-books, she still loves paper books the best, and there are a couple thousand of them residing in her home with her.

Born and raised in New Jersey, Antonia is living there again after years in Washington, DC and North Carolina for school and work. She enjoys being back in the Garden State but admits to being tempted every so often to run away from home and live in Italy.

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