Review: Bully for Sale (Heat for Sale #2) by Leta Blake

Bullied and outcast, Ezer has seen firsthand the cruelties of the world. He knows what’s expected from his kind—timid compliance and submission to his “betters.” But Ezer isn’t one to roll over and conform to the role society has forced upon him.

Despite his defiant nature, Ezer is coerced into partnering with a man of his father’s choosing. One his father promises will love and care for him for the rest of his life.

A night of nameless and faceless passion later, Ezer is horrified to find himself bound to Ned, a bully who has done so much to make his life hell. Ezer’s determined to hate Ned but he can’t help the way his body craves his touch.

Ned is young, privileged, and hopelessly in love with Ezer. Too bad his pack of so-called “friends” have targeted Ezer for torment. Ned has a lot of regrets, but none greater than his role in Ezer’s misery. When Ned’s offered the contract of a lifetime, he sees it as the only way forward with the man he loves.

The dual biological drives of heat and its aftermath might be all that’s keeping them close now, but Ned is determined to prove he’s worthy of Ezer’s love.

While Ezer is just as determined not to fall for his bully.

 

Bully for Sale is the second addition to the Heat for Sale series. If you haven't read book #1- Heat for Sale (I suggest you do- the audiobook is fantastic!) The books can be read as standalone.

Leta Blake is definitely one of the few published authors' A/B/O that I can read and tolerate. If you're not familiar with the omegaverse the author set up, women do not exist, men can be carriers (omegas), while betas are relatively human and alphas are the top of the chain, with their knots and life saving semen. Omegas have less rights and are treated as breeding machines mostly. Let's get the triggers out the way: attempted rape, dubious consent, eating disorder.

In this newest addition, the main characters are still in high school. (Don't worry, they're all legal.) Omega Ezer Fersee is nineteen, dyslexic and the bane of his wealthy alpha parent. His omega parent has been kicked out of their home, his older omega brothers seem to care only for themselves and he has know one. And to top it off, he's bullied mercilessly and labeled as the 'weird kid'. After an attempted rape by three rich alpha bullies, Ezer's life couldn't get any worse right? Wrong. Wealthy omegas usually have their heats and bodies sold to the higher bidder or Ezer's family's case, an arranged 'heat cycle'. But the person who is chosen for him... one his alpha bullies, Ned Clearwater. 

Ned is a coward and a follower, two bad combinations to have in life in my opinion. He's idealistic and romantic. And fell for Ezer the moment he saw him. Ned is trying to redeem himself and that's the crux of his arc for the majority of the book. He was loathsome and he's trying to better himself. He's a gentle giant that isn't too set in his ways that he can't be changed as he enters adulthood. I'm not a fan of cowards and Ned most certainly is one. But, he's likeable too. 

Ezer is prickly and remains true to his self for the book too. He's had a crap hand dealt to him and he learns more about himself, you can't help but feel sorry for him too. 

Essentially, this is new adult, but the adults in their lives are their puppet masters and they get thrown into too many adult things that they're not ready for. There is smut but since most of it due to their biology, I wouldn't say it was gratuitous. They need it at a molecular level. ;)

Why not rate it higher? While the story is paced pretty quick despite being 404 pages, the romance is mainly one sided for the majority of the book. (Which for me, works for the characters especially with the way Ezer is portrayed.) Thankfully, there's an epilogue! But we don't get to read the changes Ned needs to go through on page.I don't mind bully romances but something about Ned's cowardly ways got under my skin a bit.

Overall, it's a solid new adult story. I was happy Heat for Sale's main characters (Heath and Adrien) showed up a for a few. I did like the pair.

P.S. I do hope there's a story for each of the adult Fersee brothers, especially Shan. I'm so anxious at all the possibilities that could happen with Ezer's family. 

A copy provided for an honest review.

Release Blitz + Giveaway: Drifting (Diving In #1) by J. Calamy

Author J. Calamy shares their new release from Pride Publishing, Drifting (Diving In #1)! Find out more about the contemporary romance and enter int he First Romance gift card giveaway!

Drifting by J Calamy

Book 1 in the Diving In series

General Release Date: 12st June 2022

Word Count:  45,970
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 188

Genres:

CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
GAY
GLBTQI

Add to Goodreads

Book Description

 

Two men starting over, and the discovery that could shatter their worlds.

Artist and antiquities expert Cole Hadley is in a good place. Assistant Cultural Attaché to the US Embassy, Cairo, he’s over his divorce, rebuilding his confidence after years of fat-shaming and misery and checking off the first of his bucket-list items, SCUBA diving in the Red Sea.

Hank Ashton, bearded, built, the best—and meanest—divemaster on the Sea, is stranded in the dying town of Al’Shahin. He owes a local gangster a pile of money and is stuck teaching basic classes at a failing hotel to pay the debt, the dream of his own dive shop slipping further away every year.

Cole’s joy and wonder at Hank’s world cracks his carefully constructed shell, forcing him to realize how lucky he is. In turn, Hank’s lust for Cole’s body and care for his happiness go miles toward healing Cole’s bruised heart. Their shared passion for the marvels of the undersea world spills over into a sizzling affair…one they both know has an expiration date.

Until, in exploring the sea, they make the discovery of the century, one that could change both their lives. But their very different plans reveal just how little they know each other. Cole and Hank have to decide exactly what’s important to them and be brave enough to get it, if they’re to have any hope of resurfacing together.

Reader advisory: This book contains mentions of bullying including fat-shaming and homophobia, as well as reference to gangster activities.

Excerpt

It wasn’t fair to be this cold on the shores of the Sahara. Despite the broiling heat trying to claw its way through the cracks under the doors, the air conditioning of the Hotel Grande Al’Shahin was arctic, setting Cole’s teeth chattering and chilling his clammy shirt to his back. Hugging himself, he didn’t catch the concierge’s spiel.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Our pool has a dance show every night at six o’clock.” She pressed a stack of brochures into Cole’s hands then glanced at his belly…again. He managed not to tug at his shirt this time as her voice dropped into a conspiratorial murmur. “We have the best in-house gym, and the spa has an amazing detox wrap. Takes inches off. Incredible results.”

How delightful. Cole couldn’t muster a single response, his mind clicking like a car with a dead battery. None of his canned responses, perfected over the last two years, were coming. Only his therapist’s “You don’t always have to educate people. Sometimes it’s okay to ignore them.”

“I’m more interested in diving lessons,” Cole said, trying not to clench his teeth. “But thank you.”

Her face went blank, but not before assuming a brief look of incredulity that didn’t help with the teeth clenching at all. “Diving? We have a full-service dive shop,” she said. “They do intro classes every Monday, Wednesday and Friday and twice on Saturday. If you…know how to swim?”

“Sounds great,” Cole said, sliding away. That was enough BS for one day. The flight from Cairo had been short but brutal—he didn’t need this on top.

Despite his grand-sounding title—and the State Department loved titles—as the Assistant Cultural Attaché to the United States Embassy, Cairo, Cole had flown in a middle seat. On the return flight I’m upgrading. Never letting the morale office book me a flight again. He’d pretended to be asleep to avoid seeing the faces of his row-mates. Legs and arms clenched tight, seatbelt cutting his hips despite the extension, Cole had barely breathed the whole flight.

The heat and salt marsh air of Al’Shahin had slapped him the moment he’d staggered off the plane onto the shimmering tarmac. Clean air, to be sure, but also hot. Broiling, unbelievably hot. And humid! Trapped against the Sinai, Al’Shahin stewed in the evaporation off the Red Sea. Less than a year in Egypt, and he thought he had mastered the heat. Humidity had not even occurred to him.

Neither had freezing to death in a hotel lobby. It was eleven a.m., and he was exhausted. A backhanded insult about his weight wasn’t the welcome he’d imagined. Three years ago, he would have broken down in tears. A year ago, he would have given her a lecture. But present-day Cole shrugged it off, making for the doors. They always mean well, don’t they? And maybe I’ll get the fucking wrap anyway. Maybe I wanted to before she even said anything. So there.

He took a deep breath before pushing out onto the patio. The heat clawed him with greedy fingers, sun blazing cheerfully away overhead. Three steps, and he could feel the heat in his mouth. Five, and he could sense it through the soles of his shoes. The back of his neck burned, and he looked around, trying to shake off the feeling of being watched. Stared at. You are being paranoid. It’s just the heat.

The pool shimmered, a mirage of blue. Darker sunglasses, they were first on the shopping list. Christ, and he thought Cairo was hot? Still feeling eyes on him, he tried to walk quickly but not too quickly, ignoring the rattle of his suitcase wheels over the pebbled walk. The sweat on his lower back itched. A shower. A shower and a nap then I can reassess. Hands slick, he bobbled his phone, dropped it and his sunglasses both. Someone laughed. Cole flinched, even as his brain registered the sound was happy, flirtatious laughter. Not look at that loser laughter.

“You are not a loser,” he muttered, gripping his phone and straightening his sunglasses. He gave his shirt a sharp tug over his belly. “You have never been a loser. Those were Donnie’s words.” He hadn’t needed that mantra in a while. Cairo was…good. Busy, interesting, professionally validating and really fricking good. Living in a cramped Cairo apartment? Not so much. But who cared? It was Cairo! The geography and antiquities nerd dream.

But now here he was, thinking of his ex, feeling eyes watching him, hurt and slipping into intrusive thoughts. Why? Just because people were laughing?

“All right, all right, quit messing around,” a rough voice barked out, making Cole fumble his phone again. The happy laughter cut off in a chorus of groans. “I don’t care how tired you are! You clean your gear, then you can relax.”

A small building squatted on the far side of the pool, with a thatch roof and an open central arcade, shaded and tiled in blue. The dive shop. The sign over the opening was faded, a shark curled dimly under the Grande logo. One of the million old pickup trucks littering Africa was backed up to the arcade, and a group of young people passed equipment back and forth like hurrying ants.

The bark belonged to a tall, scowling man standing in the bed of the truck with his hands on his hips and glaring straight at Cole from behind a pair of mirrored aviators.

Tanned from the sun, with wide shoulders, he wore a wetsuit unzipped to the waist and hanging around his legs. He had a shaved head and short scruffy beard, brown heavily threaded with gray. The harsh lines of his face made art deco angles with his jaw as he shouted at the divers scrambling around the truck. Whoever this pissed-off jerk thought he was, he was staring at Cole.

Taking a slow deep-oven-hot breath, Cole straightened his sunglasses, glancing back over out of the corner of his eye. His championship record of making a fool of himself in front of hot straight men made him cautious, but he didn’t miss the way the guy in the truck glanced his way again. Busted.

“It ain’t complicated, doll.” The divemaster sneered at a pretty blonde girl with her hands on her hips. “You rinse the salt off your gear, you hang it up, and then you can eat.”

What an absolute dick. Cole knew trouble when he saw it. Hopefully that guy wouldn’t be the divemaster for Cole’s certification. Cole was in no mood. He kept walking.

His room was one in a long row of little villas. Did a one-bedroom with en-suite count as a villa? The brochure certainly said it did. And for Cole, who only intended to use the room to sleep after days of adventure, it was pure luxury. A quick walk-through revealed air conditioning, a huge bed piled high with blue pillows and a tiny bathroom. Bright and cheerful, it was certainly bigger than his airless shoebox in Cairo.

The back door opened onto a small limestone courtyard, high walled and full of plants. The back of the house blocked the blazing sun. Stepping onto the tiles, Cole gave a whoop of joy, seeing an outdoor shower, the showerhead as big as a tennis racket. Cole had no trouble ignoring the rust and the slightly crooked pipes. He turned on the water and after some screeching rattles, it gushed a monsoon. Cole needed no further prompting. He stripped right there, laying his clothes on the shelf by the towels and toiletries.

“Heaven.”

The blue sky, the reaching plants, the patter of water on the stones… Cole took the first relaxed breath of his leave. Shampooing absently, he realized the sound that had been in the background wasn’t air-con—it was the sea!

I’m here! I’m on the Red Sea! The Sinai! Six years in that dank basement office at Smithsonian, trying to get a Foreign Service posting, and now I’m on the Red Sea!

So why was he so jittery? Letting the water flow over him, cooling his sweat-itch skin, he took a moment to assess. Why had the hotel clerk bothered him so much? To the point that he’d nearly had an anxiety attack by the pool?

“I am tired as hell,” he said. “I worked like crazy to be able to take a whole two weeks.” Not enough sleep. What else? “I’m hungry. I missed dinner, and only had airplane coffee.” It made more sense when he thought in those terms. His therapist always insisted he run through basic logistics as a first step to challenging negative thoughts. Hungry, dehydrated, sleep deprived, not enough time outside—these were all things that had to be taken care of before he could work on emotions.

“Three triggers at least didn’t help.” Flying was always difficult for him. Then the clerk. Then the mean-faced guy staring at him. His reactions put into perspective, he could finally loosen his shoulders. Relief and gratitude, those glorious balms, filled him as he took three breaths in then gave a long slow exhale, over and over, rocking side to side under the water. Better. Much better.

Running soapy hands over himself felt taboo under the open sky. He gave a brief thought to the big scuba instructor by the pool. He was hot and probably wasn’t staring. Thinking about Donnie threw me off. Three years, give or take, since the divorce, and Cole sometimes went a whole month without thinking about his ex. This seemed like the perfect place to continue that trend.

“I am about to cross something off my bucket list. This is going to be the best vacation of my life, and I am sure as shit not letting him spoil even a minute of it.”

Him could be Donnie or could be the mean-faced divemaster. Either way. Under the blue sky with the sea calling? Cole’s spirits soared. This trip was about adventure, and he was not wasting any of it.

After a bottle of water and a protein bar from his bag, Cole didn’t need a nap. He was ready to explore. He threw on clean clothes and, grabbing a hat this time, headed back out to the patio. He wanted to see the water. A whole year in country before his first vacation, he hadn’t seen the Red Sea since he’d arrived in Cairo. He tucked his dive paperwork into his back pocket. Since his path took him by the dive shop, he would sign up while he was there. Adventure was calling!

A cascade of wide sandstone steps led to the sea. Umbrellas and chairs dotted the beach in neat rows, broken up by a large bar with a thatch roof. A jetty divided the beach and led straight out into the blue. Nearer shore were a mix of reef and sandy stretches where people could swim and snorkel. Could swim. But were not currently swimming. Only one couple used the chaises. A family peered at the reef from the end of the jetty, their voices echoing off the stone walls. The rest of the sandy spar was deserted. Even up on the pool deck, there were only a handful of people. A man sunbathed with an armed bodyguard standing discreetly apart, watching everyone, though there was no one to watch besides some college kids and an elderly couple. Tinny music played over speakers mounted to the dusty palm trees. It echoed strangely, cheerful in the near silence.

The Regional Security Chief had warned him about this. “You’ll get a great deal—you can stay in a really big resort for the cost of those little places a couple years ago. They’re in a hard patch. Arab Spring, then the terrorist attacks a couple of years ago, and the economy tanking—there is a lot less business. It’s a great time to go. But I worry about those guys. Tourism is everything and that coast is a gem.”

The Chief had been right. Spread out before Cole was a perfect deep blue sea, surrounded by red and brown mountains dropping all the way down into the water. The waves were small, crashing against the reef rather than the moon sliver of sand. Overhead, a wavering dome of white-blue barely tinged to pink as the sun arced to the mountains behind him. Cole did a slow turn, wonder bubbling up. The resort was an oasis of carefully cultivated green cupped in the barren hills, dotted with clean rows of white buildings, his own little villa among them. A gem.

Was this much happiness possible? Physiologically speaking? Would he burst into flames? He had a sense that just out of his peripheral vision, or maybe just beyond his fingertips, was a new stage of his life. If he turned, or reached for it, it would disappear. It danced on the tip of his tongue. Laura said I needed to fill my well. Despite the torrent of jokes that followed about what he could fill his well with, she’d had a point. I’ll never paint again if I don’t slow down.

That might be what he was feeling, the itch in his fingers, the change standing just behind him. Maybe it was a muse. The headlong rush into the foreign service was done. He was settled. It was time to breathe. To be still long enough for his muse to find him.

Buy Links

Choose Your Store 
First For Romance

About the Author

J Calamy

J Calamy is a queer, disabled veteran and foreign service wonk who spends a good part of the year bouncing down dirt roads in the back of range rovers with men with guns. Coffee, romance novels, and embassy scuttlebutt are her last remaining vices. 

 Check out J Calamy's website here.

Giveaway

Enter for the chance to win a $50.00 First for Romance Gift Card! Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.  

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Release Blitz + Giveaway: Bi-Furious by Chelsi Robichaud

 Author Chelsi Robichaud and IndiGo Marketing share new LGBTQIA+ contemporary romance, Bi-Furious! Read more and enter in the NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: Bi-Furious

Author: Chelsi Robichaud

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 03/08/2022

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 76200

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, Contemporary, romance, bisexual, coming out, illustrator, office romance, comic convention, stalking, cyber-bullying, biphobia, forced outing

Add to Goodreads

Description

Jess, a young artist, has spent her entire life thinking she was straight. That is, until her long-term boyfriend leaves her for someone else. Single for the first time in years, Jess has time to think about what it is she really wants. And to express that, she paints a portrait of two women embracing. The painting goes viral overnight, and she gets approached by her favorite lesbian illustrator, Lily. The two become fast friends, but there’s one problem: Lily doesn’t know that Jess is straight. The more they talk, the more Jess starts to question her sexuality.

Once she realizes she is bisexual, Jess has to decide what she values more: the safety that heterosexual relationships afford her, or a real connection with someone she truly likes. As her infatuation for Lily grows, Jess has to make the difficult choice between keeping things as they are or accepting the risks that come with being openly bisexual.

Some of those risks involve being the target of cyber-bullying. Although Jess’ friends are happy for her, the Internet is not. One particularly spiteful fan does her best to ruin their relationship. It is up to Jess to find it within herself to reject the online harassment and inner doubts and embrace her new-found identity.

Excerpt

Bi-Furious
Chelsi Robichaud © 2022
All Rights Reserved

It’s over between us, he wrote. I’ve fallen in love with her.

And that was it. It was all over. Well, not everything was over. I still had my job, after all. Not all was lost, but the relationship was clearly and irrevocably damaged beyond repair. I didn’t even bother to try to fight his choice to end it or beg him to reconsider or debase myself in any way really.

I had found out about Mélodie, the other woman, a few days ago. We had been talking it out. I had been willing to let it slide, if he was willing to let her go. It seemed he had decided she was worth it more than me.

Okay, I wrote back, as if I were whispering it. I felt weak. Part of me had known the breakup was coming. But at the same time, I was furious. How could he have dared to do this? And while I was at work, for god’s sake? I had thought maybe we could work through our issues. I clutched at my chest. I was having difficulty breathing. The sensation was like having the wind knocked out of me. A panic attack?

I tried not to cry. I wasn’t even certain why I felt like crying, anyway. It was pretty clear he didn’t care about me. He had met someone else. Why bother being sad? Why waste my time? But despite my best efforts, the emotions broke the surface. I pressed my nails into my palm to distract myself. I thought maybe I was distressed because I was worried about getting my things back. Or because of the nasty things he’d said to me, or because I’d lost a best friend.

I decided to quietly wipe a few tears from my face and cry more later, in the privacy of my own home, when I had ice cream. Oh, yes. There would be a lot of ice cream eating.

I closed the chat. Not much left to say. He left no room for discussion.

“How’s the work going?” my co-worker Julia asked, peeking over at my workspace.

Julia was one of those women who had been raised by an affluent family and gone to the best art schools. She had the shiniest blonde hair I had ever seen, and she always wore it up in a tight high pony. She was always dressed to the nines (and when I say always, I mean always, even when she was relaxing at home). I had quickly discovered after meeting her during my first day at work that she spent money like it was nothing. I had seen her shopping online during her break, and the things she bought were not cheap.

But despite her spoiled nature, she was a friend. Well, more of a work-friend, but she still cared about me. And so, despite her flaws, I liked her (but only in tiny doses).

I smiled faintly. “Oh, fine.”

I worked as a background artist for an animation studio in Montreal, Quebec. Painting had always been a passion of mine, and I got to do it as a profession. I thought it would’ve been great to do what I loved for a living, and in a way, it had been great. In another way, though, it kind of spoiled things. It was difficult to find work-life balance with art. I tended to burn out pretty quickly. And after the message I had received from my ex… I cringed. It felt weird to think of him that way. But after his message, I wasn’t certain how much more work I could get done. My work wasn’t very glamorous. My name barely appeared anywhere. I was a nobody, even in geek groups. So, in the moment, I didn’t have much motivation to keep working.

Julia caught my mood.

“What’s going on?” she asked, peering over the top of the cubicle.

I pressed my lips together into a thin line. “It’s Clark. He dumped me.”

Her eyes widened. “What? When? I thought you were just about to move in together!”

“We were,” I said quietly, pressing my hands into my lap. I was wearing my favourite dress: white satin. It was his favourite too. Or at least, it had been.

“Know what you need?” she asked abruptly.

“A drink?”

“No, something better. Smashing.”

“I don’t think I’m quite ready to ‘smash’ yet. I literally got dumped like five minutes ago.” Uh-oh. Here came the tears. Soon I’d be ugly crying and my co-workers would think I was mental.

She rolled her eyes. “Not smashing as in sex. Breaking plates and cups and things. It’s therapeutic.”

“Is it?”

“Oh yeah. I’ve done it myself a few times. Really cathartic.”

“Okay, then after work, let’s break some plates.”

She gave me a sympathetic smile before sitting back down. “Don’t worry about it, hun. Everyone knew there was no future with him.”

But I had thought there was…

Since I had been ceremoniously dumped like all my old art Clark had thrown out to “make space,” I had to tell my parents. They had been eagerly awaiting a marriage proposal, and so I had to give them the bad news that that was never, ever happening now. I didn’t want to do it in person, and besides, I had already agreed to go break things after work with Julia. If I told them in person, they’d give me the face, and I wanted anything but the face right now.

I decided to text them. I pulled out my phone and opened the messaging app, my finger hovering over the chat. Did I really want to do this? Telling them would only cause trouble, after all. What if I just let them believe we were still together?

I put my phone face down on my desk and concentrated on the screen again. I was working on concept art for a new show we were putting on, kind of a fantasy type thing. Lots of forests and sunsets and hills. I did it all through digital painting. I tried to focus on shading, but my mind was whirling.

How could Clark have broken up with me like that? At work of all places? Thank god we didn’t have a place together yet, but I still had the whole trouble of retrieving my things from his place. He had a few of my best brushes over there, so I definitely wanted them back. I didn’t often paint traditionally, but it was soothing to paint watercolours in my free time.

I tried to pull my mind away from Clark. I needed to focus on work. But every little thing reminded me of him. Drawing hills reminded me of our trip to Iceland. Drawing horses reminded me of the time we went riding together (he loved to ride).

By the time I clocked off, I was emotionally exhausted from the torture I had been subjecting myself to throughout the day. I brushed my fingers through my hair and redid my makeup in the lobby, as if that would heal the emotional scars, and took a deep breath.

It was time to drink wine and break shit.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Chelsi Robichaud writes and resides in Halifax, Nova Scotia. She publishes sapphic romance and fantasy novels. She has also self-published two comics. Find Chelsi on Twitter.

Giveaway

One lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code!  

a Rafflecopter giveaway  

Release Blitz + Giveaway: The Ballot Boy by Larry Mellman

 Author Larry Mellman and IndiGo Marketing share new historical YA fiction, The Ballot Boy! travel to 14th century Venice with this book! Enter in the NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: The Ballot Boy

Author: Larry Mellman

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 02/15/2022

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 85300

Genre: Historical, LGBTQIA+, YA, historical, lit/genre fiction, gay, coming out, 14th century Venice, political rulers, political intrigue and plotting, wartime action and adventure, sexual longing, family drama, betrayal, bullying

Add to Goodreads

Description

Venice, 1368.

War hovers in the wings with the fate of the Republic at stake when the old doge dies. Fourteen-year-old Nico, a street urchin from the poorest Venetian parish, is chosen at random to tally votes in the upcoming election for a new leader. Uprooted from his old life and transplanted to the doge’s palace, Nico becomes an alienated outsider at the mercy of scheming nobles.

Andrea Contarini, sixtieth doge of Venice, wants the ducal throne less than Nico wants to be ballot boy. Both walk a golden tightrope over treachery and deceit. When he witnesses a court clerk burned at the stake for being gay, Nico despairs. His romantic attraction to men is as powerful as his fear of fiery death and an eternity in Hell.

Taking advantage of the fraught transition in the Doge’s Palace, the hostile duke of Austria pushes Trieste to rebel against Venetian domination, jeopardizing her mastery of the Adriatic Sea. The Venetian nobles split, trapping the doge between hawks rabid for war, and rich merchants desperate for peace. With his own life on the line, Andrea Contarini opts to attack decisively and end the crisis swiftly, but his gambit is sabotaged. Trusting only the boy at his side, Contarini sends Nico to Trieste to be his eyes and ears. As the Venetian commanders wrangle over tactics, Nico falls for Astolfo, the young, charismatic lord of Castle Moccò, an indispensable but unreliable ally.

Will Nico return to Venice a celebrated hero? Or will he be forever haunted, guilt-ridden, and still concealing his deepest secret?

Excerpt

I’m running as fast as I can, but I can’t catch the thief. If I don’t, Alex’s life is over. The necklace the thief snatched from my hand gives away the game. Alex will be exposed. Locked up. Maybe even killed because Alex’s father, Francesco Barbanegra, has the temper and manners of a pirate. Alex’s family is rich. Very, very rich. Richer than most nobles. But they are common, like my family, which consists of my mother, who takes in laundry. She gets paid in pennies. I understand why she wants me to be ballot boy, but that’s her dream not mine. I don’t want to be ballot boy. I want to be me, whoever that is.

Only heartbeats ago, Alex and I had moored our boat to the wharf and staggered ashore, covered with mud. When Alex took off the necklace to give me—the gold dolphin on its golden chain, ruby eye glinting in the early light—the thief burst from the shed, yanked it from my hand, and took off like a demon down the deserted embankment.

“Go home,” I shouted to Alex over my shoulder, “before it’s too late,” and I tore after the thief.

The dolphin is fatal. If the thief tries to sell it at a Rialto pawnshop, the whole world will know. I can’t risk it.

Our feet slap on the mud, startling a flock of ducks. They flap their wings, burst up from the salt marsh, and take to the icy winter sky.

The thief is taller than most Venetians, with long spindly legs, no shoes, and a striped turban. He doesn’t look down; he doesn’t look back. He barrels down the embankment in the direction of the Customs House. My legs are a foot shorter than his, his stride worth two of mine. I suck air like I’m drowning and exhale prayers like I’m dying.

Queen of Heaven, hear my pleas. St. Nicholas, grant me thine aid.

When I manage to close the gap between us, he speeds up. No matter how fast I’m going, he goes faster. He clutches the gold chain in his fist, the dolphin dangling free, its ruby eye sparkling.

That dolphin is a pledge of brotherhood between Alex and me, the seal on our secrets, and a promise that I won’t be selected ballot boy because if I am, last night was our final meeting, maybe forever.

“Please, Nico.” Alex’s eyes had implored me, and I could never refuse. “You’ve been on the sea many times. I’m thirteen years old, and my father owns great galleys, but I’ve never seen the sea. This could be my last chance.”

“It’s not your last chance.”

“If you’re selected, it is.”

“Look at me. Do you think Ruggiero Gradenigo would pick me? I look like a muddy clown.”

“Anything can happen.”

Alex’s pleading eyes broke me every time.

Stars filled the sky, and the moon, hovering high above the mountains beyond the lagoon, sprinkled diamonds over the water. I’d been explaining the lagoon to Alex, showing off, I guess, paying no attention to the tide. I didn’t notice the moon pulling the lagoon out from under us until stranded fish danced a desperate tarantella on the exposed sandbars. A mile of mud separated us from the beacon fire atop St. Mark’s campanile. We jumped from the boat and sank up to our knees. We couldn’t walk, nor could we reach the shore until the morning tide swept back in and filled the lagoon. Alex would never get home without being discovered; I would never be in St. Mark’s Square in time for the selection, and my mother would kill me.

I breathe in, out, in, out, in, out, pushing myself harder and harder until I hit a wall and explode and pick myself up and keep going until it happens all over again. The thief took one look at the stupid costume Mama had sewn me for selection day, all torn and wet and muddy, and he must have figured me for a drunk noble, a pushover. Mama is convinced the costume will make Ruggiero Gradenigo select me. She believes in magic. Her eye is on the prize.

He’s waiting for me to collapse, this thief. He’s making a big mistake. He doesn’t know that every day since I turned eight, six years now, I row across the lagoon and back before the midmorning bells, and I will kill him if I have to.

He makes a move to outrun me on the straightaway in front of the old shipyard. We pound over rough planks, wobbly pontoons, and a muddy bog tangled with bramble. I’m glad he’s barefoot. It must hurt like hell. He can hear my sandals slapping the ground.

The buildings crowd close along the levee. The bogs and brambles disappear under wooden docks and wharves. Merchant galleys and cogs are moored all the way to the Customs House. The ground tapers to a point where the Giudecca Canal meets the Grand Canal. Keeping running and your turban floats.

He hasn’t lost me, so he squeezes between buildings with barely a foot between them, and I follow, the mortar between the bricks shredding my tunic.

The big bell at St. Mark’s, the Marangona, starts tolling to summon the Great Council to pray for God’s grace on the election of the doge. All 1,200 nobles are members of the Great Council. Their names are inscribed in the Golden Book. After Mass, Ruggiero Gradenigo, the youngest member of the Great Council, will walk out of the church, onto St. Mark’s Square, and pick the first commoner he lays eyes on, age fifteen or less, to be the ballot boy. That’s the law. The old doge is dead, and we can’t elect a new one until a ballot boy is selected at random to count the votes and make sure the nobles don’t cheat.

I squeeze out of the crawlspace and glimpse the thief’s turban disappearing down a dark lane the sun never reaches. Several lanes lead into this small square; all but one dead end at the water. He doesn’t know where he’s going and probably doesn’t care as long as he stays ahead of me. He’s as desperate as I am. My heart beats a battle tocsin.

I struggle to master my breath as Abdul taught me. I’m dog-tired from fighting the moon, the tide, the mud. Sweat floods my face. The salt burns my eyes. I wipe them with my muddy sleeve, squeeze them shut, and listen. This quarter is silent. Everyone is at St. Mark’s for the selection.

The thief’s bare feet, bloodied from running the embankment, leave a trail winding through a labyrinth that will lead him back to me. That’s how Venice is. Outsiders always go in circles, even we do occasionally outside our home parish.

The old doge died last week. He didn’t last very long; he was eighty-two when they elected him back in 1365. That’s old even for a doge. I was twelve then. Mama knew I was going to be selected his ballot boy. She’d worked it all out with the Blessed Virgin and St. Mark. She took to bed for a week when I wasn’t selected, but she never gave up. She started praying for the new doge to die before my fifteenth birthday. I heard her, every night. First, she prayed forgiveness for wanting him dead. Then, she begged heaven for him to die. Now, she believes a miracle has happened. I’m going to be ballot boy. She knows. The Virgin interceded.

If I’m not in front of St. Mark’s when Ruggiero Gradenigo selects the ballot boy, I will be dead to her. She will curse me for spoiling her miracle.

The thief backs into the little square. He doesn’t see me. He sees a glint of sun on water at the end of a narrow chasm of brick. He takes off toward the water, and I get there first, waiting, as he staggers onto the wharf. On the opposite bank, mothers and their sons clog St. Mark’s Square, tricked out like piglets at the Ascension Day fair, each one praying for the job I don’t want.

The thief ducks between the pilings of the empty ferry dock. None of the ferries, trapped on the water, can move for all the other boats. Nobody is going anywhere. Every eye will remain on the Doge’s Palace until a new doge is elected. Venice is the richest city of all; the stakes are high. Mama says anything can happen.

I charge, pin the thief against a striped pole stuck in the Grand Canal, and grab for the dolphin in his hand. But he twists free and hurls himself off the dock, crashing into a boat below. The boat rocks wildly, the passengers scream, he steadies himself. Before anyone knows what’s happening, he leaps into the next boat, and the next, and the next. As fast as he can, he bounds across St. Mark’s Basin toward the twin columns at the water’s edge framing the Doge’s Palace, St. Mark’s Church, and the greatest square in the world. Executions and burnings take place between the columns, and walking between them brings a curse upon your head, which is why we call them the Columns of Doom. I saw a murderer executed there when I was seven. They chopped off his hand first, in San Barnaba Square, where he’d killed someone, strung his hand around his neck, and rowed him back here. They hung him, quartered him, and left the pieces out to dry here between the columns.

I jump from boat to boat to boat after the thief. People squawk, but I’m out as fast as I’m in, never stopping, my eye always on his bobbing turban. He scrambles up between the columns and pushes his way toward St. Mark’s Square through the bodies packing the Piazzetta.

The church doors aren’t open yet. The thief towers above the mothers and sons, his turban threading through the Piazzetta toward the church. Arsenal men in leather armor hold the crowd back, creating some space for Ruggiero Gradenigo to come out and pick. Mothers fight for places directly in front of the church.

The big bell tolls.

Mass is finished. The crowd surges forward, a wave of anticipation silencing them. The stones beneath our feet vibrate with the wild clangor of bells.

He made a big mistake, and now he sees just how big. Bodies block him on all sides. I elbow my way through the crush as the church doors swing open. The crowd gasps. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mama desperately looking for me. She’s furious I’m not up-front and center with her.

I leapfrog a tangled knot of eight-year-olds and their mothers, grasping for the thief’s throat. He panics and hurls the dolphin over the crowd. I vault, twist, and grab the dolphin out of the air by its chain. I can’t land on my feet. I come down sideways, rolling over bodies onto the cleared pavement. The guards can’t stop me.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Larry was born in Los Angeles and educated in literature, political science, and life at the University of California, Berkeley. He has worked as a printer and journalist in Los Angeles, San Francisco, Chicago, and St. Paul, Minnesota. Larry also worked with Andy Warhol and the Velvet Underground on the Exploding Plastic Inevitable in NY, Provincetown, Los Angeles, and San Francisco, was mentored by Dean Koontz, and shared a palazzo in Venice with international opera singers Erika Sunnegårdh and Mark Doss.”

While living in Venice for many years, Larry also taught English, led tours, and immersed himself in the history and art of the Venetian Republic. The Ballot Boy was born in Venice and completed in St. Paul.

Larry is a lifelong social activist and writer, a voracious reader and researcher, an opera fanatic, and devoted walker. He currently lives in St. Paul with his partner of twenty-one years and his ex-wife of twenty-five years. His son is a pianist devoted to blues and jazz.

Website | Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway

One lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code!  

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Release Blitz: Us Against the World (Roseden U #1) by Shayne Prescott

Author Shayne Prescott and Gay Book Promotions share debut novel info on new adult romance, Us Against the World (Roseden U #1)! Check it out!
 

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Us Against the World

Author: Shayne Prescott

Publisher: Self-Published - Spartakittah Press

Cover Artist: GetCovers.com

Release Date: February 1, 2022

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance

Tropes: Friends to lovers, sports, college

Themes: Bullying

Heat Rating:  3 flames

Length: 65 000 words

It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links 

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

Betrayed by the only family he's ever known, Owen must decide: for love or team?

Blurb

Betrayed by the only family he's ever known, Owen must decide: for love or team?
 
For Roseden University frosh Theo Carter, the journey to his true self has been long and publicized. It seems most everyone on campus saw the TV series in which he was transitioning, and some feel very strongly he doesn't belong at the prestigious all-male school. Struggling with classes and bullying, junior Owen Lewis swoops in like his own personal savior.  But as the heat rises between the two, so too does the torment from some of the school's lacrosse team.
 
As a product of the foster care system, Owen knows all about not being wanted.  That's why his lacrosse teammates are so important to him — they've become the closest thing he's found to a real family.  Being bounced around constantly between different homes with just a plastic bag of his possessions taught Owen there was no such thing as love. But if that's true, why does Theo feel like a home he's never known? Owen is convinced that nothing will stop him from protecting Theo — but what if the choice is between his found family and his first love?
 
When all seems lost, both have choices to make. Will they choose each other?
 
Us Against the World is a 65 000-word HEA set at the fictional Roseden University, in Roseden, Pennsylvania. It is the first in the series of Roseden U books, and contains some derogatory language (LGBTQIA+)

Excerpt 

 “Hi! Do you need help finding your books?” My books, my brain, my capacity to speak…

 “Y-yes.” My tongue tangled like when I was a kid, when I’d had a mouth full of Gobstoppers and couldn’t manage any words. I bet I looked really intelligent.

 Owen grinned at me, either oblivious or nonplussed by my brainless moments. “Do you have your class schedule? I’ll need that to find your books.”

 “Sure do,” I confirmed. I handed him my class list and he looked it over, nodding quietly to himself before suddenly grinning even wider at me.

 “You’re in my Spanish class. But I don’t remember seeing you in the fall semester?”

 “I took the fall semester online, back home in New Hampshire.” Before he could ask why — I could see the curiosity on his chiseled face — I explained. “I had surgery early in the year; it made more sense to be home, rather than recovering here.” Smooth, Theo, so smooth. Why don’t you tell him about the time you tripped and skinned both knees while you’re at it?

 Owen nodded. “I totally get that. So since you’ve got Spanish covered, it’ll just be the other four classes?”

 “Yeah. Take all my money,” I groused, and he laughed, which made my stomach do a little flip-flop. I fought the urge to groan. I needed to get over myself. I didn’t know this guy, and despite him looking damn good, I shouldn’t have been swooning.

 Owen went off to search the stacks for the books, while I decided to pick up some more highlighters. I’d brought some from home, but given the current state of my Spanish book, it would take me no time at all before those were dried up and in need of replacements. Finding a five-pack of assorted colors, I made a happy little noise and snatched them up, coming back to the book section just as Owen approached with a thick stack of books.

 “Oh God. How am I going to get all of those back to my dorm?” Yes, Theo, complain to the handsome man about your own ineptitude.

 Owen peeked around the books to peer down at me. “You didn’t bring a backpack?” I shook my head morosely. “Two options. You can either buy a Roseden one, or if you’ve got one back in your room, I can set the books aside while you go grab it.”

 “Can you really set them aside?” Owen nodded. “Okay, thanks! I’ll get back here as fast as I can.”

 “Don’t rush,” Owen assured me with a dazzling smile. “It’s been slow. More professors are going for online textbooks instead of the physical ones.”

 I hazarded a glance at my stack. “Not mine, it seems.” Owen winked at me and my stomach fluttered again. I started towards the door, then remembered the highlighters in my hand. Turning, I placed them beside my texts. “I’ll pay for those, too, when I come back.” Owen gave me a friendly wave, and then I was off, back to Tucker Hall.

About the Author 

Shayne Prescott has been putting together books since his medium was scraps of paper and pencil nubs. A children’s book was considered for publication while in middle school, and his short stories were often a favorite of his beloved English teacher, Mrs. Mazzacarro. Still, he writes.

Social Media Links

Blog/Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter

Instagram  |  Newsletter Sign-up  |  Patreon

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

Release Blitz + Giveaway: The Reluctant Royal by Catherine Curzon & Eleanor Harkstead

Authors Catherine Curzon and Eleanor Harkstead host today's release blitz for contemporary royal romance, The Reluctant Royal from Pride Publishing! Read more about the romance and enter in the eBook giveaway from the authors!

The Reluctant Royal Catherine Curzon & Eleanor Harkstead

General Release Date: 26th January 2021

Word Count: 93,492 Book Length: SUPER NOVEL Pages: 352 Genres: CONTEMPORARY, GAY, GLBTQI, ROYALS, THRILLERS AND SUSPENSE

Add to Goodreads

Book Description

As an unseen enemy draws near, a royal bodyguard must choose between duty and love.

Risking his life to save a princess is all in a day’s work for Sergeant Joe Wenlock, a Close Protection Officer detailed to protect the royal family. After months of recovery following his brush with death, Joe’s ready to return to duties. But Alejandro Fuente-Sastre, as infuriating as he is fabulous, is the last royal Joe wants to be assigned to.

Alejandro isn’t quite the sort of queen that the British royal family is used to, but when Joe learns that Her Majesty’s step-grandson is also drag bombshell Paloma Picante, it makes his job a whole lot tougher. But is there more to Alejo than sulking and sequins?

When Alejandro’s life is threatened by an unseen tormentor who progresses from internet trolling to arson and violence, Joe must keep his charge safe from harm.

Living in close quarters with the man he shouldn’t be falling for, Joe begins to discover his true self. But as Alejandro’s enemy prowls ever nearer, Joe must make the impossible choice between duty and love.

Reader advisory: This book contains instances of homophobia and homophobic language, cyberbullying and threats, harassment, terrorism, drug use and abuse, Islamophobia and suicide. There are mentions of domestic abuse, including physical, emotional and gaslighting.

Excerpt

Joe took another sip of tonic water. He wished it contained gin, because being the only sober person at the table was hardly his idea of fun, but as he watched the bottle of champagne being passed around, he knew he didn’t really want any alcohol anyway. He couldn’t go back to work the worse for wear. Not after months of sick leave. Best foot forward, as his dad would say.

And it wasn’t only his decision not to drink that made Joe an oddity at the table. These were all Wendy’s friends, out for her birthday. Solicitors, legal types, who’d spent most of the evening already talking shop. Joe looked on, his mind on other things. Would he cope on his first day back? Would they trust him to ever do a good job again?

“So, Joe, we’re taking bets on who you’re going to be coddling next week!” Wendy put her second bottle of Prosecco on the table and settled into her seat. Her leg brushed Joe’s momentarily and she shifted, putting air between them again. “Izzy thinks one of the Fergie duo. Barnaby’s bet his bonus on Wills and Kate. I think it’s going to be the queen. The top job for a top bobby!”

“I don’t know yet.” Joe shrugged. “Maybe one of the corgis?”

“I bet you do know, and you’re teasing us!” Wendy’s friend Jemima brayed. “Have you signed the Official Secrets Act?”

Joe turned the plastic stirrer through his fizzing drink, rattling the ice cubes against the glass. He didn’t pester Wendy’s friends about confidential matters, so why did they think he was fair game? “As you know, if I had, I wouldn’t be allowed to say.”

“Whoever it is,” Wendy told them, “let’s hope they don’t put my poor old hubby in hospital again! He’s getting too old to play the action hero!”

Wendy’s friends laughed, and Joe tried to look happy, but he really didn’t want to be reminded of the accident. The headlamps coming straight for him in the evening darkness—and after he’d pushed the Duchess of Albany out of the way, there had been no time for Joe to leap aside. Just that crushing pain as the car slammed into him. Joe had slumped over the bonnet and found himself eye to eye with the idiot who’d just tried to deliberately run down the duchess.

“He’s not that old!” Verity giggled. She patted Joe’s leg and he tried not to flinch. “And still in fine form, too, Wendy, you lucky thing!”

“Lucky old me!” Wendy’s smile looked like a grimace. How would she know what form her husband was in when it had been over six months since they’d so much as kissed, let alone more? She refilled her glass and whispered to Joe, “For God’s sake, have a real drink.”

“Come on, you know I can’t,” Joe replied. “I can’t risk it. First day back and all that.”

“It’s my birthday.” Her pink lips grew thin and she drew in a deep, sharp breath, as sharp as her fresh blonde bob. Then she put her lips to his ear and hissed, “Stop showing me up, Joe, have a drink.”

“I’m drinking a stunt gin and tonic. That’s enough.” Joe held up the glass. It had the brand name of a well-known gin printed down its side. “They do tests, you know. I want to be nice and clean when they poke through my bodily fluids, thank you very much.”

“Barnaby!” Wendy subtly turned away from her husband, the centre of attention all over again. He was dismissed, just as he had been so many times over the five years of their miserable married life. “So, we’re all dying to know how your Tokyo merger’s going. It’s all everyone’s talking about. Tell us all the latest from the front line of big money!”

Joe sat his glass down on the table. The last thing he cared about was Barnaby and his bloody merger, which he’d heard snippets of for weeks as Wendy had made business calls at home. Barnaby this, Barnaby that, ‘Barnaby’s going places.’

So am I.

Joe nudged his seat back and stood to leave. Verity glanced at him, as if she was surprised he was going, but her attention turned to Wendy and Barnaby. Joe wasn’t sure where he’d go, but he needed fresh air. He wanted to be away from loud drinkers, away from Wendy’s carping. His head was pounding and as he stepped outside the pub, a car drove by close to the kerb. He instinctively jumped back, pressing himself against the wall behind him.

Calm down, Sergeant Wenlock, he told himself.

The night was cold, as cold as the pub had been hot, and Joe took a deep breath of autumn air. London tonight seemed even more surreal than ever, the streets a curious mix of the same well-dressed professionals who filled Wendy’s group and those who had embraced Halloween, escaping the real world in the form of cats and devils, vampires and aliens, some already stumbling, others only just starting out. And there in the middle of them was Joe, who would rather be anywhere else but there.

Maybe Joe should’ve thrown aside his tweed jacket and sensible open-necked shirt for a costume. He’d have made quite a good Frankenstein’s monster, maybe, though that said, when he’d first been taken to hospital and had plaster casts and bandages in places he hadn’t thought possible, he’d have been a brilliant cursed mummy.

Joe decided to go for a wander. Once he was working again, he’d have little time to call his own. He’d take his freedom when and where he could. Music blared from pubs and bars, people laughed, taxis pulled up and disgorged their passengers. And up ahead, someone was shouting.

Bloody people, can’t hold their drinks.

“Don’t you ever, ever bloody do that again! Do you hear?”

It was a man’s voice up ahead. Joe could see two figures, one in a black suit with a skeleton painted on it in white. He was wagging his finger—jabbing it—at the red-headed woman walking beside him in heels so high Joe wondered how she didn’t fall flat on her face.

“It’s so important to me, so fucking important, and all you have to do is just nod, and instead, you’re pissing about, making a fucking joke of yourself!”

“I’m sorry!” Her voice sounded almost desperate and she recoiled from her companion’s stabbing finger, jerking away as though it were the blade of a knife. She hurried after the skeleton when he stalked onwards, scooping up the silken hem of her shimmering red evening gown to follow. “Don’t be angry, I’m sorry!”

“I’m sorry!” he mimicked. Joe could almost see him in profile. The man’s face was disguised by makeup that turned his face into a skull.

Seemed a bit rich for him to be accusing someone of making a joke of themselves.

“The man’s an investor in my film, and I wanted him to know that I’m serious about my art, and then you’re there hanging over my shoulder, interrupting and gobbing on about God knows what!” The man clenched his hands. Even they were tricked out in skeleton makeup. “Why do you wind me up like this? You do it on purpose, for fuck’s sake, then it’s all I’m sorry! Well, you bloody well will be!”

“He was laughing too,” the woman said, a fresh note of desperation in her sing-song voice. No, not desperation. Fear. “He was having a good time, you’re not thinking straight! Just—please, don’t be like this!”

“My thinking’s perfectly clear!” The man gave a long sniff then, and Joe knew exactly what was going on.

The drugs are talking.

The man stopped where he was and raised his hand at the woman. The way she flinched back told Joe that this wasn’t the first time it had happened. As she drew away, he saw her makeup clearly, a glamourous sugar skull in a rainbow of colours that nearly took his breath away.

“Please don’t,” was all she said.

Joe increased his pace. The man’s raised hand trembled but in a split second he slapped the woman across her painted face.

Joe ran.

He was on the couple in only a few steps, and interposed himself between them. He didn’t look back at the woman, but could hear her frightened breathing just behind him. “That’s enough. Time for you to go.”

“And who the fuck are you, James Bond?” the man sneered.

“I’m not going to stand around and watch a bully like you slap a woman.” Joe clenched his fists, resisting the temptation to give Skeletor a taste of his own medicine.

“A woman? That’s a fucking joke. She’s a drag queen—a bloke!”

Joe turned to look at the woman.

A bloke?

Was she?

Buy Links

Choose Your Store 
First For Romance

About the Authors

Eleanor Harkstead

Eleanor Harkstead likes to dash about in nineteenth-century costume, in bonnet or cravat as the mood takes her. She can occasionally be found wandering old graveyards. Eleanor is very fond of chocolate, wine, tweed waistcoats and nice pens. Her large collection of vintage hats would rival Hedda Hopper's.

Originally from the south-east of England, Eleanor now lives somewhere in the Midlands with a large ginger cat who resembles a Viking.

You can follow Eleanor on Facebook and Twitter

Catherine Curzon

 

Catherine Curzon  is a royal historian who writes on all matters of 18th century. Her work has been featured on many platforms and Catherine has also spoken at various venues including the Royal Pavilion, Brighton, and Dr Johnson’s House.

Catherine holds a Master’s degree in Film and when not dodging the furies of the guillotine, writes fiction set deep in the underbelly of Georgian London.

She lives in Yorkshire atop a ludicrously steep hill.

You can follow Catherine on Facebook and Twitter and take a look at her Website.

 

Giveaway

Enter to win a FREE Catherine Curzon & Eleanor Harkstead romance book!

Catherine Curzon & Eleanor Harkstead Giveaway

ENTER HERE FOR YOUR CHANCE TO WIN A FREE CATHERINE CURZON & ELEANOR HARKSTEAD ROMANCE BOOK! Notice: This competition ends on 2nd February 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.

Series Tour: Desire (Books #1 - 5) by Ty Debauchee

 Author Ty Debauchee and Gay Book Promotions promote erotica series, Desire (#1-5)! Check it out today!

SERIES REVIEW TOUR 

Desire by Ty Debauchee 

PERFECT FRICTION LEADS TO PERFECT PLEASURE! 

Gorgeous Garrett fills Ty’s heart with love once again. Loneliness is subverted by soulmate love! 

When Garrett encounters an extremely embarrassing situation in the boys' basketball locker room, his teammates begin hazing him mercilessly. Ty steps forward to protect Garrett, and a lasting friendship and love affair begins. 

As always with Ty Debauchee books, you will find yourself turning the pages rapidly and adjusting yourself in preparation for what happens next. Just try not to make a mess. 

Overall Heat Rating for the series: 5 flames 

The stories, books and series, are progressive and best read in order. 

These books are unique in that they have an interesting photograph at the beginning of each chapter to set the stage for the story. 

The series will comprise of 8 books. The fifth book was published on September 15, 2020.

BOOK 1

Book Title: Abs Lust Embarrassment: Desire #201

Length: 10 800 words / 56 pages 

Release Date: July 17, 2020

Genre/s: Fiction > M/M Gay > Romance > Erotica

Trope/s: Homophobic Hazing

Themes: Coming out, Homophobic Hazing, Bullying

Goodreads 

Buy Links - Free Read

Amazon US | Amazon UK

Apple | Barnes & Noble | Kobo 

Blurb 

PERFECT FRICTION LEADS TO PERFECT PLEASURE! 

Endowed and proud, Garrett walks through the locker room toward the shower. Oddly, he briefly feels guilty for so enjoying his girlfriend's bragging about how blessed he is. Suddenly, he is betrayed by his number one asset.

A frenzy of unhinged harassment and gay bashing ensues! The high school basketball team is showering after their first win when Garrett becomes aroused. It's an embarrassing disaster! In that instant, Garrett's life changes forever.

As Ty looks on, he must decide whether to stay on the side lines or join with the homophobic mob to hide his own secret. Garrett's crisis now looms as a dramatic force to change Ty's life. How will Garrett and Ty survive the frenzied torment of merciless homophobic teammates?

A simple act of human compassion leads both to a revelation of closely held personal perspectives, secrets, and carnal desires. Will they soon share more than just their intimate secrets?

This book contains explicit scenes of a gay sexual nature by consenting characters who are over 18 years of age. It is intended only for readers who are 18+ years of age. If you are underage or may be offended by this topic, do not purchase this book.

 

BOOK 2

Book Title: Abs Lust Snowmen Play Naked: Desire #202

Length: 20 750 words / 94 pages

Release Date: July 17, 2020

Genre/s: Fiction > M/M Gay > Romance > Erotica

Trope/s: Homophobic Hazing

Themes: Coming out, Homophobic Hazing, Gay Love, Bullying

Goodreads

Buy Links - Free Read

Amazon US | Amazon UK

Apple | Barnes & Noble | Kobo 

Blurb 

SO HOT IT WILL MAKE YOUR CARROT GROW! 

Although acquainted for several years, Ty and Garrett only recently came to know each other. Why had Ty never realized how adorable Garrett is? Now Ty can't take his eyes off of him.

Everyone knows blizzards are great for snowmen and sex! Garrett loves the snow and becomes truly giddy when the first flakes fly. The biggest blizzard of their lives traps Garrett and Ty alone at Garrett's house. Garrett hopes the storm will provide a perfect opportunity for Ty to help him explore his gay urges, as well as learn a few tricks.

Garrett's big questions are whether he is straight, bi, or gay and once he knows, will he tell the world or keep it to himself?

Will Ty satisfy Garrett's erotic urning?

This book contains explicit scenes of a gay sexual nature by consenting characters who are over 18 years of age. It is intended only for readers who are 18+ years of age. If you are underage or may be offended by this topic, do not purchase this book.

     

BOOK 3

Book Title: Abs Lust Homework: Desire #203

Length: 19 100 words / 87 pages

Release Date: August 1, 2020

Genre/s: Fiction > M/M Gay > Romance > Erotica

Trope/s: Homophobic Hazing, Abusive Father

Themes: Coming out, Homophobic Hazing, Finding Self Confidence, Gay Love, Bullying

Goodreads

Buy Links

Amazon US | Amazon UK 

Apple | Barnes & Noble | Kobo 

Blurb 

EVERYTHING IS MORE FUN NAKED! ESPECIALLY HOMEWORK!

You never know what might be considered HOMEWORK. Sign up for the most erotic tutoring sessions ever!

Who could be motivated to study if your dad perpetually told you that you are too dimwitted to succeed? In spite of Garrett's brilliance, he genuinely believes he is stupid. 

Who could be motivated to succeed in school when each day is a gauntlet of homophobic hazing by the school bully and your ex-girlfriend? Garrett just wants to curl up and disappear.

Consequently, Garrett is doing poorly in his high school classes and failing in Algebra. Desperately afraid his poor grades will bench him from the basketball team, Garrett still shows no interest in Ty's offer to tutor him. Garrett knows he is a lost cause and tutoring will just be frustrating and painful. No Thanks!!!

However, Ty believes the best homework motivator is your boyfriend's anatomy. Can Ty's use Strip Algebra and Algebra For Sex to tease out excellence? You want this book in your library. Someday, you just might need Ty's lustful manipulations.

This book contains explicit scenes of a gay sexual nature by consenting characters who are over 18 years of age. It is intended only for readers who are 18+ years of age. If you are underage or may be offended by this topic, do not purchase this book.

 

BOOK 4

Book Title: Abs Lust Bare Rejection: Desire #204

Length: 22 400 words / 95 pages

Release Date: September 1, 2020

Genre/s: Fiction > M/M Gay > Romance > Erotica

Trope/s: Homophobic Hazing

Themes: Coming out, Gay Love, Homophobic Hazing, Bullying, Abusive Father

Goodreads

Buy Links

Amazon US | Amazon UK 

Apple | Barnes & Noble | Kobo 

Blurb 

NAKED, COLD, NUMB - WANDERING, STUMBLING, LOST, ALL ALONE! HELP ME TY!

Ty's parents reveal insights he never suspected. Is Garrett and Ty's secret at risk?

Hank, Garrett's father, cites Garrett's sexual orientation as reason to throw him out of the house. Garrett struggles to survive nude in frigid weather. Where is Ty when Garrett desperately needs him? 

How long before Garrett dies of exposure and hypothermia?

By not dealing with Hank decisively, Ty makes a costly error destined to haunt the boys for a lifetime. So Ty must put everything on the line to save Garrett and his handsome nurse from Hank's wrath. But in whose bed will Ty sleep? Will Ty's love be lost forever?

This book contains explicit scenes of a gay sexual nature by consenting characters who are over 18 years of age. It is intended only for readers who are 18+ years of age. If you are underage or may be offended by this topic, do not purchase this book.

 

BOOK 5

Book Title: Abs Lust Prom: Desire #205

Length: 19 200 words 

Release Date: September 15, 2020

Genre/s: Fiction > M/M Gay > Romance > Erotica

Trope/s: Homophobic Hazing

Themes: Gay Love, Homophobic Hazing, Public Exhibition Caught

Goodreads

Buy Links

Amazon US | Amazon UK 

Blurb 

PLAY NAKED! MAYBE YOU’LL GET CAUGHT!

Prom night essentials for great sex include a super HOT boyfriend with great abs, a great tush, sexy feet, stunning smile, and tantalizingly erotic tux attire.

Ty desperately wants to take Garrett to the prom as his date, but neither wants to be out to classmates. This year's prom needs to be special, so Garrett manipulates this event in their favor.

Special T-shirts with favorite sayings enhance the mood. Find yourself on the edge of your seat doing your best to ease your desires as Garrett allows Ty to relive what now seems like a wet dream premonition from a past…

This book contains explicit scenes of a gay sexual nature by consenting characters who are over 18 years of age. It is intended only for readers who are 18+ years of age. If you are underage or may be offended by this topic, do not purchase this book.

Excerpt - Abs Lust Snowmen Play Naked: Desire #202

(Please note that each chapter begins with an illustrative photo)

 

Chapter 2

“Shouldn’t we put on swimming suits and get a shirt or something to go out there?” He asked as he flipped a red switch.

“Absolutely not! Why put on clothes and then have to take them off when we get out there?”

“Lights?” He asked.

“Absolutely not! We need privacy, especially from your neighbors. So we need to be quiet also.”

Arms around each other’s waist, with rock hard pleasure wands leading the way like twin Rudolfs running side by side, we went dashing through the snow naked to the hot tub across 150 feet of grass lawn now covered with 14 inches of snow.

Fuuuck! Cold! Should have worn shoes! Nah, would have ruined the experience.

Garrett had the cover was off in seconds, as I ran over to hit the bubbler ‘Go’ switch. When I turned back toward the hot tub, the image of Garrett standing in the hot tub was breathtaking.

In each other’s arms, we were kissing deeply as we eased ourselves into the delightfully hot water.

I can’t stop kissing you. And having your soft hand wrapped around my hard on is something I definitely don’t want to end anytime soon either.

As my tongue slipped along his teeth and then tussled with his tongue in an attempt to figure out whose tongue got which space, I realized I couldn’t lose myself in this and just forget about his struggle. So I pulled back a bit and said, “I promised you a Magic Potion to make you feel better, so come over here.”

Pulling him to the side of the tub, I turned us sideways so a major jet was blowing between his back and my abs; but we were not far apart. The granite in my fully erect tool was resting comfortably in a vertical position against the small of his back.

Now the potion begins. Let’s see if you notice.

With both hands I began to massage Garrett’s trapezius muscles. Using my thumbs, I worked the muscles from their origins in his neck, and down to their insertions on his scapulae. As I encountered knotted up trigger points in the muscles, I focused on those with my thumbs, working to get those fibers to release and relax.

I couldn’t hear all of his moans of pleasure over the noise of the bubbling hot tub, but some got through. Between his sound effects and feeling him relax back against my chest, I was pretty sure I was helping him to destress and feel better.

The snow was still falling hard, so the hot tub was steaming intensely, and the snow was collecting heavily on our hair. I couldn’t resist licking some of the snow off of him. If he wasn’t so upset, it would have been the perfect moment to nail his cute little tush; but I decided I should wait.

I just hope the massage is helping you to feel better.

“Your magic is amazing! Thank you, Mr. Magician.”

I couldn’t resist shifting my snow licking of his hair to licking and kissing his neck. As I did, he tilted his head to give me easier access to his neck and shoulder. Now my hand on his right shoulder was a little in the way, so I discretely slid it down over his shoulder and under his arm allowing my Magic Fingers to tease his nipple.

While I continued to kiss his neck, I caressed down his abs and took ahold of his rigid monster. I began stroking it up and down, and he turned his head toward me as much as possible as his eyes lit up.

“How do you feel? You like my magic? Do you want to see some more?”

“Ohhh… fuuuck… I love your magic,” he said with the smile which had been missing, “show me all you’ve got. Please!”

We started kissing deeply again, and I turned him so he was sitting sideways in my lap. My left hand continued to massage his neck, and my right hand was slowly stroking his rigid shaft as we kissed passionately. You would have thought we had just met.

Well, I guess we sorta did just meet for real last night.

Suddenly he put his hand on my hand stopping my stroke and said, “I’m close.”

“Not me.”

He thought I meant I wasn’t stroking him, then he suddenly realized I needed some attention as well. He started to stroke me but the position was awkward, so we moved around until we were facing each other with the water jet blowing across our stomachs. Then Garrett went back to stroking me as we kissed.

The snow continued to fall, and I was amazed at how stunningly beautiful Garrett was with the snow in his moussed up hair. By then I had caught up in the game we were playing, so I decided to squeeze in even closer to him.

His legs were over mine, our love wands were touching, and we were still kissing as Garrett wrapped his hand around both of our joy sticks. I moved Garrett’s hand up a little bit. Then I took a hold of both of our shafts below his hand while interlacing my pointer finger with his pinky in sort of a golf club grip.

“Hug me and hold us together while together we provide the stroking magic for both of us,” then we began stroking in a frottage position which felt amazing to me. Garrett had his eyes closed and was quivering with pleasure as well.

“Please look at me and kiss me when we bust.”

“I’m close.”

“Me too!”

In a matter of seconds, we were both quaking, spasming, and convulsing in the throws of orgasmic bliss.

I looked into his eyes and kissed him as we both came at the same time. It was yet another special moment for me, but more importantly, it was the first time I felt an incredible emotional lightning bolt surge through me from being with Garrett.

Fuuuck! There is no doubt, I’m in love with you. But I can’t tell you how I feel. I’m such a dumbass. Do I have to fall in love with every cute guy I meet?

It’s harder to be subtle with those final strokes in the water of the hot tub, so we gave up on trying to stretch out our mutual orgasms any longer. Instead, we both just wrapped our arms around each other in another tight embrace.

“Thank you!”

“Dude, it was awesome for me too!”

And we continued to kiss, more softly now, more gently and slowly, but still feeling all of the passionate emotions and the beauty of a very special night.

Suddenly the hot tub bubbler shut off, “Damn!”

I always hate having to get out of the warmth of the tub to restart the bubbler.

But as the tub settled down and the noise went away, we became aware of this unusually serene silence created by the snow still falling heavily and absorbing all the ambient sound. It was a serenity I had always loved about snow, and I was loving it even more with Garrett in my arms.

About the Author

As an energetic man of 6’4” tall and 195 pounds of muscle, I very much enjoy athletic pursuits including basketball, waterskiing, and snow skiing. While having a quiet and shy personality, I value my integrity above all else with loyalty to my friends and family coming in as a very close second.

A small rural community at the edge of a midwestern metropolitan area in the center of the United States is where I grew up. So many aspects of that environment made it a wonderful place to live and definitely played a role in molding my character and principles. However, acceptance of individuals with a gay sexual orientation was not a widely supported virtue at the time.

Growing up with the stress of gay urges and desires in a straight world and struggling to find my place in the world, I frequently used my dreams and fantasies as an emotional crutch to get me through some very challenging times. By sharing these stories in my books, I sincerely hope to ease the stress of others who might face similar challenges and offer an entertaining escape for anyone in need.

Author Links

Blog/Website | Newsletter sign-up | Instagram

 

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

 

Follow the tour and check out the other blog posts and reviews here