Release Blitz + Giveaway: The Midnight Man by Kevin Klehr

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

 

Title: The Midnight Man

Author: Kevin Klehr

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 08/30/2021

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 52200

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

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Description

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

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

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

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

Excerpt

The Midnight Man
Kevin Klehr © 2021
All Rights Reserved

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dinky, the martinis are ready.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Say what?” Elijah snickered.

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

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

“He wants to be paraded,” said Francesco.

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

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

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

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

“Of course.”

“Really?”

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

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

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

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

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

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

Website | Facebook | Twitter | YouTube

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Left in the Dark by Zev de Valera

Welcome author Zev de Valera and IndiGo Marketing as they promote new release, Left in the Dark from NineStar Press! Check out more information and enter in the $10 NSP credit giveaway! 

 

Title: Left in the Dark

Author: Zev de Valera

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 04/12/2021

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 53200

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, contemporary, mystery, artist, PT, temporary disability and amnesia, accident recovery, PTSD, age-gap, over 40, kids, cheating, deception, family drama

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Description

Cal Restrepo, victim of a road rage automobile accident, emerges from unconsciousness into a world he does not recognize.

Under the care of the doctors at Wending Hills and the help of his friends and neighbors, Cal gradually recovers his memory and the full use of his body. Yet, so many of the memories do not fit what he feels is the “real” Cal.

Are his memories still clouded and unreliable, or was the Cal Restrepo who existed before the accident someone entirely different than the man who survived?

Excerpt

Left in the Dark
Zev de Valera © 2021
All Rights Reserved

“I’d like to keep you, but I have to let you go.”

The words immediately conjured in my mind the lyrics of some old country tune. They seemed incongruous coming from the mouth of the grim-faced, matronly South Asian woman seated before me. But, then, she merely appeared forbidding and matronly. Dr. Malhotra was a sympathetic person, and it was only her professional garb and tightly chignoned hair that gave a suggestion of the matron. Still, I found it difficult to imagine her plucking at guitar strings and warbling in a sad, twangy voice.

“Rothman and his physical therapy team have given you the green light,” continued Malhotra, “so there is no reason for continuing your—”

“Imprisonment?”

“For continuing your stay at Wending Hills.”

“But?”

Dr. Malhotra removed her glasses. After closing the file that lay on her desk, she folded her hands over it and addressed me with an earnest expression. A classic physician’s pose—almost a parody.

I’m not a doctor, but I play one on television.

“I realize that asking you to reconsider staying on is a waste of time,” Malhotra continued. I nodded agreement. “However, I can—and must—insist on a period of home care.”

“Home care?”

I imagined myself as a frail old man accepting soupçons of saliva-laced gruel from a sadistic nurse.

“Yes. Just for a few weeks. To ensure that you’re not experiencing any unanticipated cognitive impairment and to continue your physical therapy. POW will send someone to your home tomorrow morning.”

“POW?”

“Practitioners on Wheels. They do excellent work.”

I sighed, accepting defeat. I trusted Malhotra—though I’d always argued with her on principle.

“Whatever you say, Doc.”

Malhotra’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure I’m convinced by this sudden acquiescence, but I’ll take it.”

“So, I’m officially sprung?”

“Yes. A pity you don’t have an orange jumpsuit to take with you as a memento.”

“Funny.”

I pushed myself up from the chair, feeling suddenly awkward. Like a kid saying goodbye to his mother as he set off for college. Happy, excited, nervous and sad all at the same time. Malhotra stood and pulled a business card from her lab coat.

“Please keep in touch, Cal,” she said, handing me the card. “My mobile number is on the back. Let me know how you’re getting on.”

I tucked the card into the pocket of my chinos, accepting this as a gesture of friendship. The visiting nurse would keep Malhotra apprised of my progress. There was no need for the extra effort.

“Of course. Thank you, Dr. Malhotra.”

I hoped I would never speak to her again.

I smiled, she smiled, and I turned to walk to the door, leaning heavily on my cane. I depressed the lever and pushed.

“Cal.”

“Yes?” I asked, looking over my shoulder.

“You’re going to be all right.”

I passed into the hallway and closed the door carefully behind me.

All right.

I was going to be all right.

Sure.

I’d spent more than a month in physical therapy, recovering the use of my battered body, and an equal amount of time with Malhotra, striving to recover my memory and work through the issues of a near-death experience and survivor guilt.

All right.

A relative term.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Born in New York City and raised in the San Joaquin Valley of California, Zev now divides his time between Brooklyn, NY and Stratford, CT, where he lives with his husband, two cats, and two dogs.

Zev began writing when he was a child, scribbling observations of relatives and neighbors in a Mead notebook while the adults paid him no mind, and all the time devouring the works of Agatha Christie, Edgar Allan Poe, Jules Verne, and Phyllis A. Whitney.

Although Zev’s future career path would lead him far afield from fiction writing, Zev continued to scribble and—many years later—found himself a published author.

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Guest Review: Regaining Trust by Nell Iris

When workaholic Lawrence Weller walks in on the aftermath of his fiancé Frankie cheating on him, his world shatters. Frankie’s the love of his life, the only person he’s ever trusted, and the betrayal leaves him devastated.

Franklin Ennis makes a huge mistake he regrets deeply before it’s even over. He pleads for a second chance, willing to do whatever it takes to save their relationship.

A love that deep doesn’t just stop, so Lawrence agrees to try. But mistakes don’t happen in a vacuum. Are they both willing to own up to their part? Will their love be enough to repair what was crushed? Can trust once broken be rebuilt?

Reviewer: Annika

The opening of this book was brutal and heartbreaking. The raw emotions lay the reader flat.

Regaining Trust isn't your typical romance, and it's what drew me to it in the first place. In most books cheating is always the be all and end all of any relationship. That once someone cheated the relationship will always end, with all blame on the one who cheated. This book isn't like that.

We have Law and Frankie two men desperately in love. But life happens; Law is pretty much working non-stop and Frankie is getting lonely spending every evening and every weekend alone. In a weak moment he caves when someone gives him some attention – and of course this is when Law walks in.

What follows are Law and Frankie doing a lot of soul-searching, working and talking things through. There is so much hurt in this book, it comes off the pages waves. At the same time it's also clear that Law and Frankie really did love each other. They just got lost on their way.

This is one of those quiet books, on the surface there isn't much going on, a good part of it plays out in their apartment, between the two of them. Talking, crying. Healing. But that’s also what makes it so good, you see them fight for each other, they don’t hide from their problems but want to do what it takes to make it through to the other side – and being stronger for it. The beauty of it lies in its simplicity.

Regaining Trust isn't an easy or lighthearted read, but it’s well worth the dented heart. And even though Law might not agree, love really can conquer all.

A copy of this book was generously provided by the author in exchange for an honest review.

Release Blitz + Giveaway: Lockset (University Square #2) by Brenda Murphy

Join Brenda Murphy and IndiGo Marketing in celebrating the release of Lockset (University Square #2) from NineStar Press! Read more today and enjoy a giveaway for a chance to win a $10 NSP credit!

Title: Lockset

Series: University Square, Book Two

Author: Brenda Murphy

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: October 12, 2020

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 62900

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, Contemporary, romance, family-drama, interracial, lesbian, locksmith, lawyer, father/daughter conflict, dog, funeral, arson, family secrets, infidelity

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Synopsis

After a string of failed relationships, brilliant litigator Eunice Park is determined to stay single. Who needs distractions when you’re trying to make partner at Chicago’s most prestigious law firm? A Sunday afternoon visit from the police is the beginning of a series of events that turn Eun’s life upside down, and she’s forced to return to her hometown and confront her estranged family.

Morgan Wright, locksmith and part-time animal shelter volunteer, is convinced the perfect woman exists, just not for her. After a chance encounter with Eun, Morgan becomes embroiled in Eun’s family drama.

Charmed by Morgan’s easy swagger, Eun invites her back to her hotel room. Bone-melting sex and a surprisingly soulful connection leaves Eun questioning her return to Chicago. But not everyone in Sikesville is happy Eun has returned.

Excerpt

Lockset
Brenda Murphy © 2020
All Rights Reserved

Eunice Park glared at the ringing phone on her desk. On the third ring she picked it up. “What is it?”

“Sorry to bother you, Eunice, but your father’s on the line. He insisted I connect him.”

Eunice leaned forward and straightened her posture. “What?”

“Your father. Says it’s urgent. Want me to take a message? Or leave him on hold till he hangs up?”

Eunice swept her hair back with one hand and closed her fist around it, barely resisting the urge to tear it out. “No. I’ll talk to him.” She took her reading glasses off and tossed them on the top of the stack of trial transcripts and depositions on her desk.

“Eun?” James Park’s rich baritone filled her ear. Her Korean name, spoken in the way it was meant to be said, made her heart squeeze. She detested Eunice and still cursed the day she had chosen to use it instead of her true name.

“Yes.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s me.”

Silence stretched out between them, harsh and violent. Eun settled back into her chair. Her father’s silence and its power over Eun had weakened over the years. Eun knew his trick. Wait for the other to become so uncomfortable they spilled their secrets and told you everything you wanted to know. For once, Eun would not give in. She set her gaze on the clock on her computer screen. One minute. Two minutes. Eun fiddled with the edge of her blotter.

At three and one-half minutes her father cleared his throat and spoke. “Come home. I need to see you.”

“Nothing’s changed.” Eun chewed her lip.

“I need to see you.”

“Why now? I’m not coming home to be berated again. You made yourself clear five years ago. I’m not backing down. Not this time.”

“I’m not asking you to. I have something to discuss with you. I can’t do it over the phone. Please. This weekend?”

Eun rubbed her forehead. “I can’t. I’m buried. I have dog of a case, my cocounsel is an idiot, and I’ve got closing arguments next week. The weekend after?”

“If that’s the best you can do.”

“What?” Eun’s voice rose as anger she had managed to contain bubbled up. “Oh hell no. You can’t call me up out of the blue, demand I see you, and then act all pissy if I can’t drop what I’m doing and run home. Not after what you pulled last time. I’m lesbian, Dad. I’ve been lesbian, I’m going to be lesbian. Nothing is going to change that.”

“I know.” The defeated tone in his voice scraped against Eun’s battered heart.

“I have to go.”

“Will you come?”

“Next weekend.”

Her father disconnected the call. Eun fell back into her chair. Late afternoon sun raked the tops of the high-rise buildings surrounding the office building. Red-and-orange light, reflected off the glass, shone through the floor to ceiling window and glinted off the framed print on the wall opposite her desk.

Her stomach rumbled, an audible reminder of her neglecting to eat breakfast and lunch. She tapped her pen on the desk and glowered at the stack of transcripts on her desk as she rang her assistant. “Order us some food, please.’

“Have a hankering for anything?” Sally’s soft drawl spilled through the phone.

“Whatever you want.”

“You okay?”

“I will be.” Eun spun her pen in a circle, a wave of guilt for keeping her assistant after hours swept over her. “You don’t have to stay. John must miss you.”

“He does. But he also knows how important this case is. Faizal’s okay?”

“Sounds wonderful. That gyro salad they do.”

“Baklava too?”

Eun’s mouth watered at the thought of the sticky honey-sweet dessert. “Of course.”

“On it.”

Eun hung up and spun in her chair to face her bookshelf. The black-framed photo of Eun and her father at her law school graduation was opposite a photo of Eun and her mother at Eun’s kindergarten graduation. She closed her eyes as the memory of the last fight she’d had with her father surfaced. Anger and humiliation over his demand she go to conversion therapy surged through her as strong and as raw as that evening. Memories of other interventions, his relentless set-ups with eligible young men, and the shocked expressions of his church friends when she told them all the only thing she was sure of was they were all going to hell bubbled to the surface.

Her stomach ached: too much coffee, and not enough food. She reached into her drawer for the ginger chews she kept at hand. She unwrapped one and popped it into her mouth to quell her stomachache and glanced at the clock on the computer screen. It would be at least forty-five minutes before Sally was back with their food.

Her phone vibrated with a message. The glowing read notification sent a rill of excitement down her spine. Maybe a quick fuck would be the ticket to a good night’s sleep. A glorious, no-real-names hotel-room sex fest would be delightful. She thumbed open the Hit Me Up app and opened the message.

Disappointment washed over her. The message was from her most recent date. A bold butch who had given Eun several mind-bending orgasms that had made her strongly reconsider her self-imposed no-more-than-one-date rule. Until she stalked the woman on social media and found out she was not single as her profile claimed. Eun detested cheaters. She deleted the woman’s message without reading it and tossed her phone on to her desk.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read Universal Link

Meet the Author

Brenda Murphy (she/her) writes erotic romance. Her most recent novel, Double Six, is the 2020 Golden Crown Literary Society winner for Erotic Novels, and Knotted Legacy, the third book in the Rowan House series, made the 2018 The Lesbian Review’s Top 100 Vacation Reads list. You can catch her musings on writing, books, and living with wicked ADHD on her blog Writing While Distracted. She loves sideshows and tattoos and yes, those are her monkeys. When she is not loitering at her local library, she wrangles twins, one dog, and an unrepentant parrot. 

 I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it. For a free short story, information on book signings, appearances, work in progress snippets, previews and sneak-peeks, sign up for my email list at: www.brendalmurphy.com

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Regaining Trust by Nell Iris

Author Nell Iris and Gay Book Promotions host a release blitz for Regaining Trust from JMS Books! Discover more about the contemporary romance and enter in the backlist giveaway! (5 winners get their own eBook choice) 

 

RELEASE BLITZ 

Book Title: Regaining Trust 

Author: Nell Iris 

Publisher: JMS Books 

Cover Artist: Written Ink Designs 

Release Date: September 30, 2020 

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance 

Trope: Second chances 

Themes: Established couple, infidelity, learning to trust again 

Heat Rating: 3 flames 

Length: 31 306 words 

It is a standalone story. 

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Buy Links 

JMS Books | Amazon US | Amazon UK 

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Can trust once broken be rebuilt?

Blurb

When workaholic Lawrence Weller walks in on the aftermath of his fiancé Frankie cheating on him, his world shatters. Frankie’s the love of his life, the only person he’s ever trusted, and the betrayal leaves him devastated.

Franklin Ennis makes a huge mistake he regrets deeply before it’s even over. He pleads for a second chance, willing to do whatever it takes to save their relationship.

A love that deep doesn’t just stop, so Lawrence agrees to try. But mistakes don’t happen in a vacuum. Are they both willing to own up to their part? Will their love be enough to repair what was crushed? Can trust once broken be rebuilt?



Excerpt

You never told me you were lonely,” I say.

“I did!” His protest is loud and takes some of the defeat from his body. “I’ve told you a thousand times. How I miss you when you’re always working late and wish we could do more stuff together.”

I knit my eyebrows together, trying to think back and remember. He’s right. He always hugs me tightly and tells me how much he’ll miss me when he knows I’ll work late. Or how he wishes we could do something together, even if it’s only watching a show while cuddling on the couch.

”I thought that was your way of showing me how you feel about me. You being sweet and caring. Not once did I think it meant ‘I’m so fucking lonely I’ll suck someone else’s dick.’ Was it even your first time?” The question is a pained scream, hurting my throat, my head, my soul. I don’t like yelling, so I take a deep breath and start counting to ten in my head to calm down, but I’m interrupted before even reaching three.

“Of course, it was the first time,” he roars. “I’m not a cheater.”

His words are a thundercrack in an otherwise dead silent apartment, and I rear back, scramble off the couch, and turn to leave.

“No. Please.” He’s pleading now, voice cracked and bleeding out on the floor. “Please don’t leave me, Lawrence. I’ll do anything. I love you so much, don’t leave me.”

I’m frozen on the spot. Undecided. The hurt, overly-dramatic part of me wants to storm off in a huff, throw some stuff in a bag, and retreat somewhere to lick my wounds, and rage and scream and curse the treachery, while wailing out my broken heart. But the other, more rational part of me won’t let me move, the part that still remembers how much I love him, still remembers his loving kisses, his devotion. His passion.

So I sink back down on the couch. Rub my palms over my face and swallow. “I don’t know what to do here, Frankie. I’m hurt and betrayed, but at the same time I just can’t turn off my feelings for you. But how can I be with you if I can’t trust you?”

“You can trust me. You can.” He’s so sincere, so heartfelt, leaning forward -- hands twitching so he shoves them between his knees -- begging, willing me to believe him. And I want to. I really do.

“How?”

“I’ve never done anything like this before, never kissed anyone, hardly ever looked at anyone like that. It was a huge mistake and I regret it. So, so much. I know I can’t prove it, but I was going to tell you. That’s what I was worried about when you walked in. How I would tell you. How you’d react. If you’d hate me.”

I must look skeptical because he hurries to continue. “I know. It’s easy to say when there’s no way of proving intent. But I’m not a liar. You know I’m not.”

“Do I?” I push out the question around the lump in my throat.

He slides to his knees on the floor in front of me, sits back on his heels, and tries to catch my gaze. I give in to his silent pleas and meet his eyes.

“You know me, Lawrence. You know you do. You know what kind of person I am. I’m only human and make mistakes like everyone. This one was huge and more stupid than most, I know that. I’m not perfect, but I’m not a liar. I’m not disloyal. And I own my mistakes.” His face is open. He blinks away tears, but his gaze never falters. His hands rest on his knees, palms open and turned up, and everything about him invites me to see the honesty in his heart.

And maybe I can see it. The slight tremble of his hand and the pulse fluttering visibly in his neck betrays his anxiousness, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t squirm or fidget, doesn’t look away from me. Nothing indicates that he’s lying.

There’s no way he’s that skilled a liar. He’s always been open and honest and prone to blurting his emotions as soon as he experiences them. That thought deflates me and I fall back against the couch.

“Yeah, I know. I believe you.” And I do. At least my head knows. I’m not sure about my heart. Or my gut, rather.

His eyes well up and a tremble racks his body, but it’s the sight of his wobbly chin that finally cracks me. I hold out my hand, unable to not touch him anymore. “Come here.”

 

 

About the Author 

Nell Iris is a romantic at heart who believes everyone deserves a happy ending. She’s a bona fide bookworm (learned to read long before she started school), wouldn’t dream of going anywhere without something to read (not even the ladies room), loves music (and singing along at the top of her voice but she’s no Celine Dion), and is a real Star Trek nerd (Make it so). She loves words, bullet journals, poetry, wine, coffee-flavored kisses, and fika (a Swedish cultural thing involving coffee and pastry!)

Nell believes passionately in equality for all regardless of race, gender or sexuality, and wants to make the world a better, less hateful, place.

Nell is a bisexual Swedish woman married to the love of her life, a proud mama of a grown daughter, and is approaching 50 faster than she’d like. She lives in the south of Sweden where she spends her days thinking up stories about people falling in love. After dreaming about being a writer for most of her life, she finally was in a place where she could pursue her dream and released her first book in 2017.

Nell Iris writes gay romance, prefers sweet over angsty, short over long, and quirky characters over alpha males.

Author Links

Blog/Website | Facebook Author Page | Facebook Profile

Twitter: @nellirisauthor | Instagram: @nell_iris | Goodreads

QueeRomance Ink | BookBub

 

 

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Re-Release Blitz + Giveaway: Chaser (Chaser #1) by Rick R. Reed

Chaser (Chaser #1) is out from NineStar Press! Rediscover this popular romance with author Rick R. Reed and IndiGo Marketing! Enter in the giveaway for your chance to win a $10 NSP credit!

Title: Chaser

Series: Chaser, Book One

Author: Rick R. Reed

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: February 24, 2020

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 67500

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, Insta-love, family illness, separation, perceived cheating, physical fitness, narcissistic character, betrayal

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Synopsis

Caden DeSarro is what they call a chubby chaser. He likes his guys with a few extra pounds on them. So when he meets Kevin Dodge in a bar bathroom, he can’t help but stare. As far as Caden is concerned, Kevin is physically perfect: a stocky bearded blond. But Caden gets tongue-tied and misses his chance.

When Caden runs into Kevin one night on the el train, he figures it’s fate offering him a second shot. Caden manages to get invited back to Kevin’s place for a one-night stand that turns into the kind of relationship he’s dreamed about.

But the course of true love never runs smoothly—Kevin and Caden’s romance is no exception. When Caden returns from a few weeks away on business, Kevin surprises him with a new and “improved” body—one that fits Caden’s shallow friend Bobby’s ideal, but not Caden’s. Caden doesn’t know what to do, and his hesitation is just the opportunity Bobby was looking for.

Excerpt

Chaser
Rick R. Reed © 2020
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One

“I like fat men.”

“You like big butts?”

“I cannot lie.”

Caden and his therapist laughed together over the song reference, both old enough to remember Sir Mix-A-Lot’s 1992 rap hit “Baby Got Back.” Camille D’Amico reined in her laughter abruptly, pushing her tortoiseshell glasses back up on her nose and fussing with her frizzy halo of brown hair. She adopted a serious expression. “So you’re attracted to heavier men. Is that a problem?”

“Not really a problem, I guess. It’s just that I wonder why. I mean, look at me.”

Caden stood up, turned around slowly, and sat back down in the comfortable overstuffed chair facing Camille. He knew what he was displaying—a very trim, tight five-foot-eleven frame upon which not even an ounce of fat rested. In the dictionary, if one looked up the word “lean,” there was Caden’s picture, the perfect illustration. He rubbed his hands over his black buzz cut and then brought one hand down to the stubble of his just-coming-in beard. Not only was he very fit, he was a very handsome thirty-year-old man.

“What?” Camille asked. “You think you’re too good for a guy with a few extra pounds on his frame? Think you’re slumming if you take a walk on the fat side?”

Caden shook his head and put up his palms in self-defense. “No, no, that’s not it at all. I don’t think I’m better, not by any stretch. I’m just wondering why, lately especially, I’ve been drawn to heavier men.”

“Is this something new for you?”

“Not really, but it’s only something I’ve been acting on in the past few months. I have this friend, Bobby, who I usually go out with and he’s, well, he can be kind of superficial…” Caden’s voice trailed off as he thought of his gorgeous friend, who looked a lot like the porn star, Dawson, with a trim build, cut abs, closely shorn auburn hair, and luminous gray eyes. The difference between Bobby and Dawson was that Bobby was much choosier than Dawson, although perhaps no less promiscuous—no mean feat when one considered one of Dawson’s films was entitled Dawson’s 50-Load Weekend. Anyway, this session was supposed to be about Caden, not Bobby. “And he always gives me a hard time about wanting to meet, as I said, heavier men.”

“And this Bobby’s opinion is important to you?”

“He’s my best friend.”

“Important enough that you would alter going after what you really want for him?”

Camille’s question stopped him short. He’d never really thought of it that way. Why did it matter what Bobby thought? So what if he didn’t approve of the bearded redhead he met online and invited over last week? And what business was it of Bobby’s if he liked to peruse the profiles at footballplayerbuild.com?

Obviously, it bothered him enough to bring it up here today with Camille, whom he had been seeing for the past three weeks. His visits to her were his thirtieth birthday present to himself. He hoped to figure out why, at age thirty, he had yet to find a relationship that lasted more than three dates.

He had begun wondering if there was something intrinsically wrong with him. He was a good catch—at least that’s what his mother told him—but on paper, he did look good. No one could argue with that. He was handsome, having inherited his mother’s Sicilian olive complexion, black hair, and eyes that ranged from amber to green. His nose was strong, patrician, some might say (his mom again, anyway). He wasn’t a bodybuilder, but years of running four to six miles four to six days a week, along with summertime lakefront bike rides, had given him a good, solid build.

And it wasn’t just in the looks department where he thought he had a lot to offer. He had a good head on his shoulders. That he got from his late father, who had been a fully tenured professor of English literature at Northwestern University in Evanston before passing away unexpectedly one morning in the bathroom of a heart attack. That same head on his shoulders had given him, if not a stellar job, a solidly respectable and reliable one as a copywriter at a medical association in downtown Chicago. He had been there since graduating from Northwestern nine years ago, starting out as an editorial assistant on one of their trade journals.

So why did he feel the need to try to apply the same standards Bobby applied to his own dates, standards that could be summed up by Bobby with the initials FG, which stood for “fucking gorgeous”? If a man was not FG, so Bobby’s rationale went, he was not worth fucking.

Sometimes Caden wondered why he had Bobby as a best friend. But he could be hilarious at times, and he could be a lot of fun. Caden on his own in a bar was a wallflower, but with Bobby, some of his charm and charisma, the devil-may-care attitude, rubbed off on Caden.

Plus, going out with Bobby usually meant he would hook up with one of Bobby’s FG prospects’ fucking gorgeous friends. Because, as Bobby always said, “The hot ones travel in packs.”

Caden shook his head and looked at the therapist, who was sitting patiently, waiting. “What did you ask me again?”

“I asked you if Bobby’s opinion was more important to you than getting what you want.” Camille cocked her head.

“No, no, of course not.” He answered too quickly.

“You know,” Camille said, “I’m like what’s in your own head. There’s no need in here to try and come up with what you think is the right answer. No need to censor yourself. Do I need to remind you there’s no judgment here?”

“No.”

“So, I won’t ask you about Bobby’s opinion again, but I do want you to think about your answer.”

“Why?”

“Because you brought up your attraction to heavy men for a reason.” Camille shrugged. “It doesn’t matter so much what the reason is, so much as it matters what you think about it. Look, people are attracted to other people for all sorts of reasons, and there’s no right or wrong way to be attracted. Take my mother—please!” Camille laughed. “Ever since my father passed away a few years ago, she’s been all about younger men. And I am not talking forties and fifties here. I’m talking about much younger, your age, Caden, and even in their twenties. Mom’s sixty, but she’s a knockout.”

“Cougar?” Caden asked.

“Use that word around her and you might get your eyes scratched out. Anyway, my point is that it’s what she likes, and even though I did question it at first, especially when she was having me meet guys who were younger than I was, it wasn’t my call to make. Attraction is subjective—totally.”

“You’re right.”

Camille laughed. “I’m not looking for affirmation. I just want to understand why you chose to bring up this particular attraction with your therapist.”

And Caden realized he’d like to know the reason himself. If he could only get a handle on it, a love handle, if you will. He shook his head, censoring his inner Kathy Griffin.

The therapy session failed to illuminate the rationale for Caden’s attraction, and he left Camille’s office with homework not on why he was attracted to heavy guys, but why he felt that mattered.

It didn’t matter, did it?

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Meet the Author

Real Men. True Love.

Rick R. Reed draws inspiration from the lives of gay men to craft stories that quicken the heartbeat, engage emotions, and keep the pages turning. Although he dabbles in horror, dark suspense, and comedy, his attention always returns to the power of love. He’s the award-winning and bestselling author of more than fifty works of published fiction and is forever at work on yet another book. Lambda Literary has called him: “A writer that doesn’t disappoint…” You can find him at www.rickrreedreality.blogspot.com. Rick lives in Palm Springs, CA, with his beloved husband, Bruce, and their fierce Chihuahua/Shiba Inu mix, Kodi.

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Review: The Captain and the Squire (The Captivating Captains #5) by Catherine Curzon and Eleanor Harkstead

Tarquin Bough is a tweedy squire with an ambitious fiancée who controls his every move. He’s also the owner of the finest collection of saucy artefacts in the world. From Christine Keeler’s eyelash to the Virgin Queen’s dildo, they’re all safe in Tarquin’s care. 

Christopher Hardacre is a city-slicker with the tighest jodhpurs and the most smackable bottom in London. He’s given up the ratrace for a country life as captain of the village rowing team. The only trouble is, he’s lost his money to a ruthless scam and Bough Bottoms is his last hope of a home.

But Chris hasn’t reckoned on his late uncle’s will. The house comes with a sitting porcine tenant and if Chris can’t look after his newly-acquired pet pig, he’ll lose his inheritance and his last chance at happiness.

When Tarquin sees Chris it’s lust at first sight, but dare he be honest about his feelings in a village where being gay is bound to be a hot topic? As soon as Chris and Tarquin get together, it’s the hottest summer this little corner of England has ever known.

With a scheming local hotshot out to turn the beloved pig into sausages, can the captain and the squire save everybody’s bacon?

The Captain and the Squire is a total kick. The language is fun, the banter is deliciously dirty and the MC’s are just amusingly quirky. Tarquin and Christopher begin their relationship as enemies, but really don’t take long to delve into some mildly kinky games involving spanking and some right proper saucy talk. I loved the page time the two shared when they were on the same page and were shutting out the rest of Bough Bottoms.

Tarq’s family has a collection of sexual artifacts and he continues on in search of acquisitions. Chris will inherit his uncle’s estate if he can convince the Oracle of Delphi, his uncle’s pet pig to become his own beloved pet. The Oracle has been residing with Tarqs after the uncle’s death and thankfully Tarqs and Chris have become friends and then some so Chris can spend quality time singing show tunes to The Oracle.

Tarquin and Christopher are a match physically and emotionally. As much as I loved their dirty little games, who doesn’t love a man going commando in tight jodhpurs preparing for a little spanking action, I also loved the ridiculous amount of fluff the two threw each others way. Once they moved past just the physical and started falling for each other and contemplating the L word, they were adorably sappy and it wouldn’t have worked for just any characters, but it certainly worked for them. 

I do believe I liked the story more than 3 hearts worth, but cheating is my no-fly zone in stories and the fact that Tarquin and Petunia were engaged for most of the story really bothered me. I could see them being engaged at the start and breaking things off, but they didn’t, Tarquin was committing to marrying that bitch even after he and Chris were soooo obviously in love.

Tarquin didn’t love his fiance and vice versa, they didn’t even like each other. She treated yTarquin horribly and I lost respect for him for taking that nonsense, whether Chris was in his life or not. When Tarq and Chris have their ultimatum/miscommunication moment I wanted to choke my Kindle. I was all, “Dammit Tarq, you stupid hamster! Human up, get your shit together and clean house!” Not even for Chris, but for his own damn sake. The fact that Chris was paying the price for Tarqs epic level of stupid was so annoying.

I get the engagement was a plot point, and necessary for the “mystery” but it detracted from Chris and Tarq for me and that was the party I showed up for, the rest could have been replaced with something less offputting than infidelity.

Thank jeebus for a righteous ending and an even better epilogue. I do believe, in the end, The Oracle is the ultimate hero of this story, but I am ever so thankful that Tarq pulled it together and that Chris is the forgiving sort in the name of love and floggings.

**a copy of this story was provided for an honest review**

Anniversary Shenanigans: Author Visit + Giveaway - Devon McCormack (NSFW-ish)

It's Black Friday and who better to close out this day than Devon McCormack!  He's brought us a very... um... delicious story to help distract you from the hordes of shoppers fighting over the latest toy.  

TO CHEAT WITH ANGER

by

Devon McCormack

I washed my hands in the bathroom sink before running my fingers through my long brown locks.

I didn't want to go back out into the club.

I didn't care for strip clubs, unlike my guy Jesse, who if it was up to him, would have been at one every weekend.

Taking a breath, I headed for the door and unlocked it. As I pulled on the handle, a force pushed on it.

I stepped back, caught off guard as Mr. Six-Foot-Something stepped in.

It was the stripper, Rex, the guy who I'd given one-too-many Washingtons because he was extra-friendly when I tipped him.

In his neon-green thong, some bills stuffed into his thigh straps, he hurried inside and closed the door behind him, slyly locking it behind him, like this wasn't his first time pulling this move on a guy.

He was hot as fuck with short buzzed hair and a sleeve tattoo across his right arm. I hadn't been able to make out what it was, and now that I was busy looking between those steel blue eyes and his massive package being squished in that thong, I certainly didn't think I was going to figure it out in that moment.

He approached quickly, pushed up against me, and shoved me back against the brick wall beside the bathroom sink.

His lips were minty fresh. I enjoyed his hot breath rushing up against my face as he took my mouth. Heat radiated off his body, stacked with muscles, covered in a thick sweat from having just been on the stage, working his magic.

The way he wrapped his arm around me and pressed against the small of my back, pulling me up against him, I found myself lost in his spell.

We worked together, removing my blazer and unbuttoning my shirt before he pulled down my pants with my boxers.

Without hesitation, he squatted down and slid my dick into his mouth, going at it like the pro he clearly was.

It wasn't until that moment that I remembered that I had a fucking fiancé outside, waiting for me to come back.

I felt terrible for what I was doing. It was wrong, immoral, but it felt so fucking right when Rex was sliding his tongue up and down my shaft.

In that moment, as he deep throated my cock, despite the guilty feelings that raced through me, I found it only made it that much more exciting, that much more delicious.

I felt like I deserved it after what I'd caught Jesse doing behind my back.

If he could run around with a guy for six months, I could have a little fun in the bathroom with some random stripper, right?

I reached out, pressing my hand against the adjacent wall.

Rex pushed to his feet.

I was so worked up, so filled with need, desperately craving satisfaction.

He grabbed onto my shoulder and forced me around, pushing his face up against the wall before whispering in my ear, "Oh, you're being a very bad boy."

My face filled with heat as he forced my pants to my ankles.

I heard him spit behind me.

Jesus fucking Christ.

It was wrong.

Immoral.

Fucked up.

So why did I need it so fucking bad?

He massaged my hole with his wet fingers before lubricating his cock with some more saliva.

I turned to look at that fat erection of his, his thong pulled down, mid-thigh.

"Jesus fucking Christ, no lube?" I asked.

He snickered. "It's kinda my thing."

"Well, with a body like that, I guess you just get to have it however you want."

He slid his cock between my cheeks, and I could feel him pushing the head in.

He leaned close to me as he maneuvered his cock in my hole.

"God, you're tight," he muttered against my ear.

I took deep breaths, working to take him as he slid in, slowly, the sensation stinging within me.

I wonder what Jesse must think I'm up to?

Was he looking for me? Was he going to come in to get me?

I didn't care if he did find me.

I needed this experience...craved it in a horrible, disgusting way.

Rex and I worked together, me relaxing and him getting that big cock farther within me.

As he jammed it into my prostate, I groaned out loud.

He wrapped an arm around my throat, tugging gently while offering sloppy kisses against the side of my face.

It wasn't just that he was hot as hell or that there was this electric chemistry that lingered between us that made it so unbelievably delicious.

There was something about knowing that I shouldn't have been doing it.

That it was wrong.

And that it was a big FU to Jesse.

I was throwing four years down the toilet, and I didn't give a flying fuck...because I was consumed by my lust.

I enjoyed the experience, reveled in it.

"I need to pull out," Rex said. "I'm gonna shoot."

I reached around and grabbed his ass, tugging him close.

"No, don't," I insisted before hearing him grunt and knowing that he was releasing inside me.

His body jerked forcefully and then he settled, but just for a moment before he started up again, hitting my prostate. I jerked on my cock until I shot my own load, which collected on the wall in front of me.

Panting, we came down from our high together.

He pulled out and made quick with pulling his thong back up.

In my own hurry, I grabbed my blazer and pulled it on, not catching my mistake until I noticed my button-up still on the tile floor.

"Shit," I muttered as I pulled up my jeans.

Rex grabbed a couple of ones from one of his thigh straps and shoved them into the open fly of my pants. "That was lovely," he said, leaning close and offering a kiss.

He pulled away briefly, making direct eye contact. I was hypnotized by those steel blue eyes as he said, "Maybe we can continue this some other time."

He left the bathroom, leaving me gasping, disoriented, exhilarated...and feeling like a terrible human being.

I didn't care, though.

I just want to know how to reenact that experience once again.

I gazed down at the ones he'd shoved into the fly of my jeans and noticed a scrap of paper with what looked like a phone number on it.

Was this just the beginning?

Whew!  Is it hot in here?  *wipes brow* Someone must have turned on the heater.  Be sure to let Devon know what you thought of his story in the comments below!

About the Author:

Devon McCormack writes adult and young adult novels. He lives in Atlanta, GA. Devon McCormack spends most of his time hiding in his lair, adventuring in paranormal worlds with his island of misfit characters. A good ole Southern boy, McCormack grew up in the Georgian suburbs with his two younger brothers and an older sister. At a very young age, he spun tales the old fashioned way, lying to anyone and everyone he encountered. He claimed he was an orphan. He claimed to be a king from another planet. He claimed to have supernatural powers. He has since harnessed this penchant for tall tales by crafting whole worlds where he can live out whatever fantasy he chooses. A gay man himself, McCormack focuses on gay male characters, adding to the immense body of literature that chooses to represent and advocate gay men's presence in media. His body of work ranges from erotica to young adult, so readers should check the synopses of his books before purchasing so that they know what they're getting into.  

Twitter:  @devon_mccormack
Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/devon.mccormack.79
Website:  http://www.devonmccormack.com/

Devon is giving away a signed copy of Still Your Guy AND a signed copy of Up for the Challenge to TWO lucky winners!




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The giveaway is open until 12:00AM (EST) on 12/01/17. Shortly thereafter, we will contact a winner!

Please respond to the winning notification within 48 hours or we will choose another winner. Good luck!

 Don't miss entering in our month long unicorn giveaway HERE! It ends 12/1/17!