Showing posts with label Comedy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Comedy. Show all posts

Blog Tour + Giveaway: Red Pandamonium (Chaos Menagerie #1) by Roan Rosser

Welcome author Roan Rosser and Other Worlds Ink as they visit on the Red Pandamonium (Chaos Menagerie #1)  blog tour! Check out more info on the queer urban fantasy and don't miss the $20 Amazon gift card giveaway!
 

Red Pandamonium - Roan Rosser

Roan Rosser has a new queer comedic urban fantasy out: Red Pandamonium. And there's a giveaway.

When you have chaos magic, the only thing you can do is expect the unexpected.

Zombies. Shoestorms. Illicit unicorn rides. A talking red panda.

Before today Max never believed in magic, despite bad luck so terrible he used to jokingly call it a curse. Now he’s a reluctant believer. His first day as a mage he draws the attention of the magic police, not to mention the mysterious hooded figures chasing him all over downtown Portland trying to kill him with magic.

With the help of his new speed-demon red panda familiar, his fortune-telling neighbor, a gadget-obsessed witch, a grumpy vampire, and his maybe-brother, Max needs to learn to use his chaos magic, and quickly, or his ‘curse’ is going to be the end of him and the people he loves.

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Giveaway

Roan is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47242/?


Excerpt

Red Pandamonium

“Until this next one passes, stand in the center of the grass there. Based on the size of the licorice circle, it looks like enough space that you shouldn’t hit the sidewalk or the house.”

“But that’s in full view of the road…”

Kay shrugged. “So? Humans see magic all the time. Especially in this modern age, they’re likely to think that they imagined it.”

I was starting to understand why Kay was so dismissive of the PCA. “What if they don’t? Think they imagined it, I mean.”

“Who’s going to believe them?” Kay pushed me onto the grass. “Now go. I don’t want to see what would happen to me if I got caught in range.”

“It doesn’t bother Pog,” I protested, but walked across the pristine emerald grass to roughly the center of the lawn. I’d never seen such bright green grass. It was lush and almost springy under my flip-flops, and there wasn’t a bit of moss in sight.

So far, the magical effects had seemed to relate to what I was thinking, like the grass had turned to the candy I was craving, so maybe I could direct it.

“Pog, what if I tried to expel the magic with purpose rather than letting it just happen? It’s like a buildup of magical energy, right? So if I used it, no explosion.”

“It is,” Pog said, sounding skeptical. “But do you really think you can control it?”

“No,” I said truthfully. “But will it really hurt anything to try?”

“I suppose not,” Pog agreed.

I turned in a slow circle. Kay and Ynes stood on the mansion’s front porch, ringing the doorbell. No one else was nearby. My palms were on fire now. I needed to do this soon.

“Do I need a wand to focus things?”

Pog leapt from my shoulder, then stood up on two legs and faced me. Eir striped tail waved back and forth behind eim. “No. Magic for a mage is all about intent and focus, not the tools.”

“Thanks, Professor.” I quirked a smile at the diminutive red panda. Eiy looked so serious.

I did some of my hand and finger stretches, like I’d do to limber up before a drawing session. Focus, but on what? I kicked off my flip-flops and let my feet sink into the soft grass.

I wondered if I could turn the cheap plastic flip-flops into tennis shoes like I’d morphed Kay’s sweats into my normal clothes. Flip-flops to sneakers. Easy.

I thrust my hands at the shoes. Change! Nothing happened.

In the distance I heard a door open and then people talking, but I kept my attention on the orange flip-flops, vibrant against the brilliant green of the grass.

I could feel that Pog wanted to say something, but eiy kept quiet. I didn’t know how I knew that, but I did. And now that I’d noticed, it was very distracting.

Sneakers! I thrust again. Nothing still. The burning moved to my fingers.

“I said I have no idea what you’re talking about! I don’t have a brother!” a man yelled.

The raised voices caught my attention, and I looked up, chewing on my lip. Ynes was pointing at me. I should have told them I was trans, so they could have explained, but I thought I’d be there with them. Too late now.

The magic in my fingers reached the tipping point, and I fell to my knees with a scream. The fire engulfed me and expanded out. Sneakers! I thought at the magic.

The grass stayed grass, and as I watched, the ugly orange flip-flops morphed into a pair of sneakers. They stayed bright orange, damn it. But it had worked! My first proper spell!

I sat down to put my new shoes on when something rubbery thumped into my head. I winced and turned to look at what had hit me. A right sneaker, white with gray trim.

Pog’s eyes widened and eiy dashed under my bent legs as more shoes began raining from the sky. I covered my head with my hands and bent over my legs, trying to shield Pog from the onslaught. They bounced off my back, shins, hands, and elbows hard enough that I was going to be bruised all over.

A nearby window shattered with a crash and I risked a glance out under my elbow to see shoes bouncing off the mansion’s roof with solid thumps. Car alarms started going off in the street and there was the sound of more breaking glass. Honking horns and yelling started coming from the surrounding neighborhood.

Maybe my ‘create shoes’ spell had been a little too successful.

The arguing from the porch stopped as everyone stared in stunned silence at the falling shoes.

After a few minutes, the rain of sneakers petered off.

A Shoestorm.

I snickered to myself at the silent joke.

I found a right and a left of the white and gray rain sneakers. Just my size—at least one thing had gone right—and put them on, leaving the bright orange ones where they lay. Then made my way to the porch, kicking sneakers out of the way as I went. Pog ran along after me, bounding over the shoes like it was an obstacle course. Glad someone was having fun.

On the porch, Kay mimed bashing his head into one of the Corinthian columns. Ynes stared around, open-mouthed at the mess. And the man… he was staring at me. I stared back. He could have been my twin brother, except his shoulders were broader and his face a little rounder. But his hair was the same dark brown as mine and we had the same nose and the same dimple on the left cheek. I swallowed hard, not sure what to say to my maybe-brother.

A sneaker from the roof rolled off and landed on the pavement between us with a loud thump, breaking the staring contest. Pog stood on eir hind legs and tottered up to the shoe with eir front paws in the air.

“Quite the weather we’re having,” I said to him as Pog pounced on the shoe.

The man jerked his gaze back up to me in shock. “Maybe you should come inside after all.”


Author Bio

Roan Rosser

My urban fantasy novels mainly feature the trans and queer protagonists grappling with things like identity and found families that I wished I could have read about growing up.

Originally from Utah, I escaped up to the Pacific Northwest, where I've made my home in both Seattle and Portland. When not writing, you can probably find me beating up pixel baddies or in front of one of my sewing machines adding to my overstuffed closet or my army of homemade plush dolls.

If you find yourself blinded by the vivid colors and loud patterns of my homemade shirts, know that I’m only trying to warn you that I may be poisonous. Or venomous? Or both? Probably both.

Author Website: http://roanrosser.com

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/roanrosser

Author Twitter: https://twitter.com/RoanRosser

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/roanrosser/

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Roan-Rosser/e/B09V95NK72

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Book Blast + Giveaway: You’ll Be Fine by Jen Michalski


 

Author Jen Michalski and Gay Book Promotions share book blast for family romance, You’ll Be Fine from NineStar Press! Read more about the romantic comedy and enter in the You'll Be Fine book giveaway!

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: You’ll Be Fine

Author: Jen Michalski

Publisher: NineStar Press

Cover Artist: Natasha Snow

Release Date: August 2, 2021

Genres: Contemporary F/F Romance, Family comedy, trans character

Tropes:  Comedy of errors, love triangle

Theme:  Forgiveness

Heat Rating: 2 flames     

Length: 77 900 words/ 343 pages

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

Goodreads

Buy Links 

Publisher  |  B&N

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

Second chances don’t mean repeating the same mistakes

Blurb  

After Alex’s mother passes away, Alex takes leave from her job as a writer for a lifestyle magazine to return home to Maryland and join her brother Owen, a study in failure to launch, in sorting out their mother’s whimsical, often self-destructive, life.

While home, Alex plans to profile Juliette Sprigg, an Eastern Shore restaurant owner and celebrity chef in the making who Alex secretly dated in high school. And when Alex enlists the help of Carolyn, the editor of the local newspaper, in finding a photographer for the article’s photo shoot, Alex struggles with the deepening, tender relationship that blossoms between them as well.

To complicate matters, Alex and Owen’s “Aunt” Johanna, who has transitioned to a woman, offers to come from Seattle to help with arrangements, and all hell breaks loose when she announces she is actually Alex and Owen’s long-estranged father. Can Alex accept her mother and father for who they are, rather than who she hoped they would be? And can Alex apply the same philosophy to herself?

“An enjoyable story about an adult trying to grow up.” - Kirkus Reviews

Excerpt 

The last time she’d seen Juliette was high school graduation. They hadn’t spoken for weeks, and their last names—Sprigg and Maas—ensured they’d be nowhere near each other in the audience of graduating seniors. Alex had told Owen and her mother to meet her in the parking lot after the ceremony. She had no intention of lingering in the high school gym, drinking fruit punch and eating sheet cake emblazoned with GO SENIORS and CONGRATULATIONS with the other kids who’d treated her like she was some highly contagious lesbian fungus.

She’d gotten through the first row of cars and spotted her mother in the fourth row, near the exit, leaning against their Subaru. Her mother wore Ray Bans and a black fedora, her arms crossed like she was the third Blues Brother or had materialized from some mid-80s new wave music video. As Alex raised her hand to wave to her, she felt another hand on her shoulder.

“Alex.” It was Juliette’s mother, Barbara Sprigg. She wore a floral print dress with a ruffled collar. A small crucifix hugged her thick neck. Her hair was red like Juliette’s but her face ruddier, plastered with freckles. She smiled. “You’re in a hurry! Congratulations!”

“Thanks.” Alex glanced over Mrs. Sprigg’s shoulder, saw Juliette, still in her graduation gown, lagging behind with her father and little sister. “My mom is taking us out to dinner.”

“Oh, I won’t keep you.” Mrs. Sprigg said, clasping Alex’s forearm as she did so. “You haven’t been by the house for a long time—Juliette says you’ve been so busy getting ready for Swarthmore. I’m sure your mother is so proud.”

“Uh huh.” Alex nodded. “I know Juliette is excited to go to Eastern Shore State.”

“Well, she’s⎯” Mrs. Sprigg glanced over her shoulder, “never been much of the academic type. I’m just glad I taught her to bake.”

“It’s a shame they didn’t let you guys supply the cakes.” Juliette’s mother ran a bake shop in town. Even now, she smelled faintly of sugar and frosting.

“Well, they wanted some asinine discount,” Mrs. Sprigg snorted. “Because Juliette is a student. Fine, but a 50% discount?”

“It was very nice to talk to you.” Alex tugged her arm away gently. “But I’ve got to go.”

“Is everything okay at home now, dear?” Mrs. Sprigg looked in the direction of the Subaru.

“Yes, why?” Alex glanced at Juliette again, her dark red hair, the few strands that stuck to her lip gloss. Alex wondered if the lip gloss smelled like mint, or strawberry. She wondered how Juliette’s hair would feel splayed between her fingers at that moment.

“Okay. I’m glad.” Mrs. Sprigg nodded, and Alex wondered what Juliette had told her. There was a lot, she thought, she could tell Mrs. Sprigg about Juliette.

They embraced, a half, light, back-patting hug, their cheeks brushing.

“Stay away from my daughter,” Mrs. Sprigg murmured into Alex’s ear. Then, as if nothing happened, Mrs. Sprigg waved vigorously and went to join the rest of the Spriggs. Stunned, Alex watched them walk toward their Buick. Before they reached it, Juliette turned her head, her mouth parted, her eyes searching Alex’s. Alex wondered, for a moment, if she had been too hasty, too harsh, to Juliette, if there was something salvageable between them.

No, she decided. Her life after high school would be awesome, and she wouldn’t remember Juliette any more than their high school mascot or her mom’s boyfriend Lewis. She held up her hand to Juliette, as if to wave. Instead, she gave her the finger and joined Owen and her mother at the other side of the parking lot.

“Did you just flip someone off?” Her mother lowered her sunglasses. Her hazel eyes bored into Alex with an unwavering intensity of a gamma ray. “At graduation?”

“It was Juliette,” Alex murmured, shaking her head. In her new life, she would be more mature. She felt fears in her eyes. “I shouldn’t have. I just—”

“Are you kidding?” Her mother grabbed Alex by the shoulders and looked up at her. She grinned. Alex noted her mother had borrowed her lipstick. “I’m more proud of that than your stupid diploma.”

Her mother pulled a pack of Benson & Hedges out of her dark cotton blazer with the rolled-up sleeves and tapped out a cigarette.

“Smoke?” She held out the pack to Alex. “You’re almost eighteen.”

Alex shook her head. “I don’t want lung cancer.”

“Your choice.” Her mother shrugged, lighting hers. She took a drag, then exhaled with a flourish. “Welcome to adulthood.”

About the Author 

Jen Michalski is the author of three novels, The Summer She Was Under Water, The Tide King (both Black Lawrence Press), and You’ll Be Fine (NineStar Press), a couplet of novellas entitled Could You Be With Her Now (Dzanc Books), and three collections of fiction. Her work has appeared in more than 100 publications, including Poets & Writers, The Washington Post, and the Literary Hub, and she’s been nominated for the Pushcart Prize six times. She lives in Carlsbad, California, with her partner and dog.

Author Links

Blog/Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter

Giveaway 

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

one of five ebooks/paperback copies of You’ll Be Fine

(reader’s choice)

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

Release Blitz + Giveaway: Electra Rex By April C. Griffith

Author April C. Griffith and Pride Publishing host today's release blitz for Electra Rex! Find out more about the QUILTBAG science fiction novel and enter in the giveaway to win a fabulous gift package and get a First For Romance Gift Card!


Electra Rex  

April C. Griffith

Word Count:  68,269
Book Length: NOVEL
Pages: 269

Genres:

ACTION AND ADVENTURE 

COMEDY AND HUMOUR 

EROTIC ROMANCE 

FUTURISTIC 

FUTURISTIC AND SCIENCE FICTION 

GLBTQI 

MULTICULTURAL 

TRANSGENDER

Add to Goodreads

Book Description

Electra Rex, self-appointed ‘galaxy’s greatest starship captain’ and last known human, is going to save humanity or get rich trying!

Electra Rex, the last human in known space, is broke—worse than broke, deeply in debt and out of options. After a desperate, drunken attempt to fix her faltering life, she finds herself in a deeper hole after stealing the most stylish starship she’s ever seen, but it comes with a massive lien.

She’s left with a fast ship, a nearly indestructible debt-enforcement robot named Letterman watching her every move and a lead on a lucrative job with the mysterious organization known as Bi-MARP, which is set to rebuild Earth on the two-thousand-year anniversary of its destruction.

Across two galaxies, she struggles to stay one step ahead of space pirates and creditors, all while trying to catch the eye of a beautiful, vivacious bisexual clone named Treasure, who was recently rescued from a top-secret university lab run by academic squids.

She succeeds in seducing Treasure—or perhaps it’s the other way around—while they run scams to find earthling relics like the original formula for Coca-Cola, a 1968 Volkswagen Beatle, a mostly complete Monopoly board game and a largely accurate, if not small and green, clone of an elephant. All the while, Electra has to hide the fact that Treasure is actually the most valuable item on the Bi-MARP list—a fertile human female.

When the truth of humanity’s demise and the goals of Bi-MARP are uncovered, Electra, the galaxy’s foremost transgender hero, decides that the riches and fame aren’t worth the sacrifices, and she turns on her former employer to rescue Treasure a third time, completing her search for money, what it means to be human without the rest of humanity and, most of all, love.

Excerpt

“I am the last of my kind, and I suck,” Electra mumbled to herself, throwing back another drink. On the first night of a planetary holiday, Electra Rex was drunk, scorned and looking to buy a gun. She couldn’t recall exactly which holiday it was, though, since there were so many. The planet took time off constantly to celebrate a googolplex of different accomplishments, important figures and momentous occasions across hundreds of alien species. It was a wonder anyone did anything but observe holidays. She sat in a window booth, watching ships both large and small land at the valet pad while she waited.

Little of her Embarker pedigree remained after years away from the flotilla. Endless toil and nomadic life marked her people’s existence, even if it didn’t describe her life. She’d lived in an apartment in Authrillia’s largest northern city for more than a year, which should have made her itchy to get back to spacefaring, but she wasn’t. In fact, she wasn’t much of anything. Apathy had settled heavily over her and it had made her careless—at least, more careless than she’d already known herself to be. To pay the bills, she engaged in the least Embarker type of work she could find—being a professional party guest. ‘Come see the last known human woman, drink with her, maybe even…’ But that was over. She’d frittered away too much money on fleeting things, another Embarker no-no. A job meant to replenish her account at the last moment and save her apartment, her precious creature comforts and allow her reckless lifestyle to continue for another month hadn’t paid out. Now she had only the clothes on her back and the cash in her pocket. Enough to buy a gun, she hoped.

She’d given the DJ of the club a copy of Margaritaville, promising a transcendent experience. Jimmy Buffet sang while a dozen different species of aliens attempted to dance on the multi-tiered dance floor to the ancient Earthling music. Electra’s dad had loved Jimmy Buffet. ‘The finest music in the galaxy,’ he’d said. Even with great effort and a good deal of booze in her system, she couldn’t hear what he’d heard. She must not have inherited his ear for classical music. What the hell is a flip-flop anyway?

Normally leering over spacecraft cheered her up, which was why she’d selected a window booth near the landing pad. She wasn’t into the functional caravan freighters that comprised Embarker fleets. She liked the chic, silky, beautiful spaceships that focused on form over function. The bleak, unrepentantly crappy mood that had clung to her throughout the day lightened an iota at the arrival of her dream ship in the valet station directly below her window. An oval saucer body, three hundred feet long, sleek and stylish, with three classic fins off the back, it was—it had to be—a Cadillux 1959 Dorado edition. And it was pink, the brightest, most beautiful pearlescent pink trimmed in the shiniest of chrome. Electra stood on her knees on the booth’s bench and pressed her face drunkenly against the glass. She wanted to lick it. She didn’t care that the thought was absurd. That ship was so gorgeous that it deserved to be licked.

The transparent arrival tube extended to the ventral port while a valet-bot lowered onto the dorsal spine above the cockpit that sat directly in the middle of the oval. Electra wanted to see what wondrous creature possessed such a magnificent spaceship. After several agonizing moments, the owner of the ship passed from beneath the edge within the arrival tube and Electra’s elation turned to fury—Weisella. Fucking Weisella. Her need to buy a gun redoubled, not to begin a life of mercenary work—which was the Embarker way after going bust—but for murder, satisfying revenge on the woman who had thoroughly screwed her. The fact that such a heinous, underhanded creature could own such a glorious ship was a crime on par with regicide in Electra’s inebriated mind.

Weisella was a Panaeus, a vaguely humanoid alien species with advanced telekinetic and telepathic powers. She was only a little taller than Electra’s five-and-a-half feet. Her heart-shaped face had two enormous black, almond-shaped eyes, no nose or mouth. Frilled spines replaced what could be called hair. A cluster of five ephemeral tentacles stood in the place of an arm on each side, and instead of legs, she had what looked like a jumbo, curved shrimp tail. Indeed, the only attractive features Electra saw in Weisella were her money and her strangely perfect breasts—three of them across the center of her chest, prominently displayed since Panaeus didn’t wear clothes. Weisella liked jewelry, though, and she was sporting a shiny new metal ring on her tail that was probably just brimming with expensive tech.

Electra’s memory of the night before was fragmented at best. She’d been hired to attend Weisella’s gala for the Panaeus New Year, partially as the spectacle of having a human in attendance and partially as Weisella’s date. Electra didn’t mind the escort portion of the work. Weisella was rich, enchanting, well-traveled and she’d paid extra for the pleasure. Except she hadn’t actually paid. The transfer had bounced back in the morning when Electra had tried to use the money to get the foreclosure lock off her apartment door. The timer on her lien had expired and everything in her apartment had gotten incinerated while she watched through the little glass window on the door. Everything her parents had ever given her, every keepsake from Transition Island, every souvenir she’d collected in her travels was gone in a flash of white fire and a quickly ventilated puff of smoke, all because Weisella had ripped her off.

Electra had done her part. She’d danced, charmed and been better than presentable in her skin-tight Utopalex pants, knee-high go-go boots and a black corset that made the most of what she had. The Panaeus guests had loved her. Weisella had loved her. By every measurement, Electra had performed perfectly. They’d retired to Weisella’s bedroom at the end of the night to continue the festivities. Things hadn’t gone as smoothly behind closed doors. Electra had been intoxicated from drinks, a few drugs she wasn’t familiar with and the high oxygen environment created in the penthouse, plus she’d never slept with a Panaeus before. The swell of Weisella’s backside, what looked like a delightfully curvaceous butt? Nope, that was a nose and ‘Please stop fondling it.’ Okay, the breasts were breasts, right? Close enough. Fondle those, lick them and fall asleep face-first in them. Was that why Weisella had bounced back the payment? Failure to consummate? It was explicitly stated in Electra’s contract that sex was not a guaranteed part of any escort arrangement. It was her prerogative. Besides, she’d tried. There simply weren’t obvious sex organs on a Panaeus—at least none Electra could find in her sloppy groping.

The valet-bot guided the Cadillux away after Weisella entered the club a couple of floors beneath Electra’s booth. The little bot was flying the beautiful ship toward the stacks. Not the stacks! That was where someone parked a junker that nobody would want to steal. The stacks were for heaps with so many scratches and dents that a few more might go completely unnoticed. The Cadillux could be scraped, dinged, stolen or breathed on wrong in the stacks. Only the worst kind of philistine would park such a beautiful vessel in the holding pen for pig ships!

“That tight little butt could only belong to the Electra Rex,” a gravelly voice sounded behind her.

Electra sat back down and glared at Fizan. Her underworld contact was a Gromphra, essentially an eight-foot-tall cockroach in every despicable sense. Fizan was too large and inflexible to actually sit in the booth, so she stood at the end of the table, inspecting Electra with her dead bug eyes. It wasn’t that Fizan was a particularly vile example of the species—all Gromphra were lecherous and blunt. It was considered a badge of honor to gross out other species—at least, that was what Fizan claimed.

The seemingly transparent shell on the front of Fizan’s torso opened up like a flasher’s raincoat. It was clothing and body armor mixed and wasn’t actually transparent. Within the shell, guns, knives and a dozen other nefarious items were concealed behind the projected image of her chitinous trunk.

“See anything you like?” Fizan asked.

Electra had enough cash on hand to afford a decent gun. A carbine worked best for mercenary work, although a small pistol would be ideal to assassinate Weisella on a crowded dance floor. Shooting anyone or anything wasn’t really her style, and the reality of what she was doing rolled over her in an unpleasant manner, accompanied by a wave of nausea. Electra scrunched her nose while she considered the weapons until she spied something entirely different.

“How much for the ID-clone?”

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First For Romance

About the Author

April C. Griffith

April Griffith is a lesbian, a rogue academic, and a giant nerd. She’s from Oregon, but calls San Diego her home. Her passions include LGBTQ+ political activism, creating safe places for women in Dungeons & Dragons, and writing the books she wanted to read when she was a kid. April worked on the Amazon Gladiator series (Anaxilea: Amazon Princess and Anaxilea: Gladiatrix) under a pen name.

Giveaway

Enter to win a fabulous gift package and get a First For Romance Gift Card!

April C. Griffith's Electra Rex Giveaway

APRIL C. GRIFFITH IS GIVING AWAY THIS FABULOUS PRIZE TO ONE LUCKY WINNER. ENTER HERE FOR YOUR CHANCE TO WIN A LOVELY GIFT PACKAGE AND GET A FIRST FOR ROMANCE GIFT CARD! Notice: This competition ends on 23rd March 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.

Blog Tour: The Good Ship Lollipop by Patrick Benjamin

Author Patrick Benjamin and Gay Book Promotions make a blog tour stop for The Good Ship Lollipop! Read more about the romantic comedy today!

BLOG TOUR

Book Title: The Good Ship Lollipop

Author: Patrick Benjamin

Publisher:  KDP Publishing

Cover Artist: Rebecca Covers

Genre/s: Contemporary M/M Romance, Comedy

Trope/s: Love triangles, Frenemies

Themes:  Moving on, learning to love again

Heat Rating:  3 flames    

Length:  140 000 words/430 pages

It is a standalone book.

Add on Goodreads

 

Buy Links - Available on Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

 

Kyle must choose between the love of his past and the man he could love in the future

Blurb

For fifteen years, Kyle and Dustin seemed like the perfect couple. That was until Kyle came home to discover Dustin in bed with a yoga instructor half his age and twice his flexibility. Two years and countless therapy hours later, Kyle has almost put the incident behind him. Being nearly forty and single makes a man bitter, but he’s making do.

Yet, when Kyle’s best friend asks him to be her Man of Honor, on her ten-day Caribbean wedding cruise, Kyle finds himself in a most uncomfortable situation. He ends up trapped on a seafaring vessel for ten days with the man who practically destroyed him.

Face to face with Dustin for the first time since the breakup, unresolved feelings float to the surface, and Kyle and Dustin both begin to wonder if their story is as over as it seems.

While navigating unchartered waters with Dustin, Kyle also meets Jax, a sexy Australian who likes to cruise in more ways than one. Kyle is more than happy to let Jax distract him for ten days. Still, when Jax suggests that he might want more than just a few days of fun, Kyle must choose between the love of his past or the man he could love in the future.



Excerpt

No, absolutely not!” I nearly choked on a spinach leaf.

“You have to come,” Sapphire insisted. “I want you to be my Man of Honor.

“A) That’s not a thing. B) The answer is still no.”

“I can’t get married without you.”

“Sure, you can. There’s no law against it. People do it all the time.”

When Sapphire offered to take me to lunch, I should have suspected something treacherous was afoot. Sapphire and I were like sisters. Sisters of different races and one of them with a penis, but sisters, nonetheless. Our relationship was something enormous and incomprehensible to most people. On paper, we had nothing in common. We had completely different backgrounds and cultural experiences that cultivated entirely different perspectives of the world around us. Despite those differences, we had found each other.

As close as we were, the girl had never offered to buy lunch. She seldom volunteered to pay for anything. That should have been warning number one. When she suggested my favorite Italian restaurant, Armando’s, that should have been warning number two. When she volunteered to foot the bill to attend her destination wedding cruise, I should have known to prepare myself for the Armageddon of bad news.

“You spent fifteen years with the man. What are ten more days?” She spoke with her hands. A piece of chicken flung off her fork and onto the table beside us. The senior couple, who were trying to enjoy their eighteen-dollar salads, glared at us like we each had two heads.

“I’m so sorry,” I mouthed to them.

“I can’t believe you would miss your best friend’s wedding over a tiny, little, uncomfortable inconvenience like this.”

“A cockroach infestation is a tiny inconvenience. Gonorrhea is uncomfortable. What you’re asking me to do is far worse.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Sapphire said, waving her hand. “Dustin is not that bad.”

“Isn’t he?” He was too tall, too fit, too classically pretty, and all too aware of the fact. He was narcissistic and untrustworthy, but he was also charming and exceptionally good at putting on an innocent act. He could flash his white teeth and his dimples and get people to believe anything he wanted. Still, if you looked into his eyes, you could tell he was soulless.

“Why would you want everyone to join you on your honeymoon, anyway?” I shifted focus. “I hate to tell you this, but if you can’t stand to be alone with Justin for ten days, you probably shouldn’t marry him.”

“Very funny,” she said dryly. “I want everyone there because I want my wedding to be an experience. An amazing memory we can all look back on together.”

“I am not spending ten days, on a tiny boat, in the middle of the Caribbean, with him.”

“It’s a cruise ship,” she corrected. “Besides, you won’t be with Dustin. You’ll be with me.”

“Lies!” I wasn’t buying any of it. “I know exactly what will happen. You and Justin will be too busy enjoying your Caribbean honeymoon to spend any time with me. Then I’ll be trapped, in the middle of the ocean, with no one to talk to except Beelzebub’s concubine.”

“He’s not going to be the only other person there, you know. Several other people will be in our group. You can make one of them your wingman. My father loves you. You can hang-out with him.”

“Honey, don’t take this the wrong way. If I’m on an exotic vacation, and the only man who wants to spend time with me is your sixty-five-year-old arthritic father, I might drown myself in a bathtub.”

“Don’t be silly,” Sapphire dismissed. “You’ll be surrounded by water. There’d be no need to draw a bath.”

I did not look amused.

“I can’t believe you’re still so angry. It’s been over a year.” It had been eighteen months since the breakup, and yes, I was still harboring, hurting, and hating.

I hadn’t seen or spoken to Dustin since the incident. As instructed, he had been gone when I returned to the apartment. With Sapphire’s help and some very strategic planning, I had avoided him throughout the entire decoupling process.

I left yellow Post-it Notes on everything he could take and was extremely vindictive about it. He could have the Blu-ray player, but not the discs or the TV. He could take the kitchen table, but not the chairs. I even kept the Keurig, though I permitted him to take his pods. What kind of monster drank decaf anyway? I also instructed Sapphire to guard the jazz record collection with her life. I detested jazz music, and we both knew it. I planned to pawn or destroy the albums later.

The first few weeks after the breakup, Dustin tried tirelessly to communicate with me. He sent me text messages that I didn’t answer and left voice mails that I refused to listen to. Dustin tried everything short of smoke signals. He even sent me an old-fashioned letter, which I didn’t open and burned immediately. I had nothing to say to him and had no desire to hear what he had to say to me. I had never been an incredibly trusting person, and his betrayal had reinforced all those walls that I had been trying, for years, to dismantle.

Being the forgiving person she was, Sapphire tried to convince me to give Dustin a second chance. Still, I refused, steadfast in my determination that he’d had his chance. Since then, she had been careful not to mention him. Even though I knew full well that she saw him regularly. He was her fiancé’s twin brother. She had to remain cordial. I did not and had no intention of ever being so.

“You simply have to come. We’re going to so many beautiful islands: Turks and Caicos, Bonaire, St. Thomas, and Aruba. You’ve always wanted to go to Aruba.”

That was true, but still, “If you put us on a ship together, I promise you, I will throw him overboard.”

She smiled wide, her teeth gleaming white against the contrast of her chocolate skin. “That’s fine! Just promise you’ll make it look like an accident.”

“Duh,” was the most mature response I could muster. “I don’t want to end up someone’s bitch in a Caribbean prison.”

“Don’t you, though?”

Dirty, prison sex would have been the most action I’d seen in a while. Thirty-nine may have been young by hetero standards, but in the queer world, I was practically a spinster. Being classified as an elder gay meant that my dating pool had been reduced to a few categories. First, those men who were so weird or creepy that nobody wanted them, or second, those who were so bitter and jaded by relationships past that dating them was like trying to build a house out of straw. I was a card-carrying member of category two.

Of course, there was always a third group. Younger men. They were excellent in theory, with their zero percent body fat and their permanent erections. However, too often, their perfect bodies and sexual appetites only camouflaged the fact that they lacked any real substance. If brains were dynamite, most of them couldn’t blow their nose. There were always exceptions. Old souls that knew how to converse about more than just Rhi-Rhi’s new album or T-Swizzle’s latest boyfriend. Those younger men wanted more than sugar daddies. Though, I still couldn’t imagine having enough in common with someone who hadn’t even been alive during the original run of Friends.

It wasn’t that I couldn’t get a date. Even close to forty, I was still cute. Not as attractive as I was at twenty, but I wasn’t a hunchback or anything. My deep green eyes matched my red hair, which I kept cropped short to avoid the bozo-clown-realness it would become if left to grow-out. I was tall and still decently shaped, a little thicker in some places than I’d prefer, but that came with age. At least, that’s what I told myself. I had a good understanding of where that put me in the queer hierarchy. Guys would still bang me; they just wouldn’t brag about it anymore.

Admittedly, the realization that I was no longer prime real estate took some getting used to. Before Dustin, I had been a penthouse in Manhattan, but after fifteen years in couple-town, I was shocked to discover I was now a brownstone in Queens. Next stop? Condemned building in Jersey!

That being said, I was optimistic about my life, even if it meant spending it alone.

“The ship is huge,” Sapphire was still talking. “You won’t even really have to see each other. There are also excursions at every port: zip-lining, snorkeling, hikes, surfing. Come on. You can orbit around each other for ten days without committing a violent felony.”

“Great, so I can spend the entire time by myself?”

“There’s going to be thousands of people on this ship. It’s a floating city. If you’re so worried about being by yourself, you could always try making friends.”

“You’ve known me for twenty years. Am I the type of person who makes friends?”

I was about to find out.



About the Author 

This is Patrick Benjamin’s second novel. He was excited to try his hand at something lighter and more humorous than his debut novel (The Road Between). Patrick can most often be found spending quiet evenings at home with his husband, Jarrett and his puppy, Dax. When he’s not writing, Patrick can often be seen performing on stage as his glamorous drag persona Tequila Mockingbird. He also volunteers on the Board of Directors of a non-profit organization that has proudly served the LGBTQ2S+ community for 45 years.

 

Author Link

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Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

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

Release Blitz: Atonement Camp for Unrepentant Homophobes by Evan J. Corbin


Join author Evan J. Corbin & Gay Book Promotions in celebrating the release of Atonement Camp for Unrepentant Homophobes! Find out more about this contemporary comedy & read an excerpt too!


RELEASE BLITZ 


Book Title: Atonement Camp for Unrepentant Homophobes 

Author: Evan J. Corbin 

Publisher: Atonement Book, LLC 


Release Date: September 3, 2020 for the print book and September 17, 2020 for the eBook. 

Genre/s: Contemporary LGBTQ Fiction; Speculative Fiction; Humour 

Trope/s: Fish-out of water comedy 

Themes: Coming out, cultural assimilation 

Heat Rating: 2 flames 

Length: 70 600 words/ 283 pages 



Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited and Paperback 


Atonement Camp.
Pastor Harris is only going to save his career.
But while he doesn’t want to be there, a change of heart may be just what he needs...

Blurb

The oldest translation of a Gospel is returned to the world by a secret society long dedicated to its preservation. In it, Jesus explicitly condemns bigotry and homophobia. In a new world in which LGBTQ passengers receive preferential boarding for flights and the United States has elected its first lesbian President, Pastor Rick Harris is stalwart, closeted preacher who doggedly holds onto his increasingly unpopular convictions.

When an incendiary sermon goes too far and offends an influential family, Rick makes a painful choice to keep his job: He attends an atonement camp run by drag queens for society’s most unrepentant and terminally incurable homophobes.

Atonement Camp is immersion therapy for Pastor Harris, and it might be working. An open bar with pedicures, a devastatingly attractive roommate and an endless supply of glitter help him manage to make new friends. Soon, Rick and his cohorts learn the camp may hold its own secrets. Amid the smiling faces and scantily clad pool boys who staff the camp, a clandestine group plots to discredit the New Revelation and everything it stands for.

If Rick has the conviction to confront his own hypocrisy, he might be able to uncover the conspirators with help from his adopted flock—and find new truths within himself.



Excerpt

Chapter 1


Northern Syria

It was just after sunrise. The call to prayer from the nearby city’s rooftop loudspeakers receded as Dr. Michael Donahue’s driver left a familiar road for the makeshift trails that led deep into the desert. One faith bridged to the next, he thought. Before long, he wouldn’t need the light jacket, but he wore it anyway. It was a mysterious quest, and he tugged the jacket tight around his chest.

The jeep bounced over the rough terrain as Dr. Donahue carefully poured hot water from his thermos over his yerba mate leaves. His second mate would be less bitter than the first. Each time he made a fresh tea, the leaves lost more of their bitterness to the boiling water. The same leaves could be used again and again any given morning. It reminded him of his profession. Archeology was the sober study of the forgotten—people who lived, laughed, suffered, and died, their history diluted by each passing year. Dr. Donahue was determined to learn as much as he needed to reanimate their past with subtle detail, adding context to what would otherwise be merely more than a list of dates and details for his undergraduates to memorize before a test.

As promised, a man stood by the still-empty dig site. He was dressed in a Western style—no keffiyeh or other head dressing. With short sleeves and rugged boots, his attire was more practical than fashionable. Dr. Donahue always appreciated utility and function above much else. He acknowledged that his estimation of the man’s credibility was thus-far unearned, but he nonetheless felt more comfortable in the company of the familiar.

The site had been Dr. Donahue’s home for most of the past year. His team would return after Ramadan. Dr. Donahue’s research specialization centered almost primarily around the early Christian era. He took a certain guilty pleasure in casually admitting his atheism each semester to the newest crop of freshman at his university in Washington, D.C. Like all things, he saw it as a learning opportunity. One is not excused from understanding something just because they don’t agree with it, he’d remind them. The site itself was an early Christian refuge under the Roman Empire. Forgotten by time, but now rediscovered. Painstakingly, he and his team would uncover artifacts and consider what stories they told about the people who made them. Dust from the jeep’s tires made a gritty fog that enveloped the air. Dr. Donahue squinted, his eyes already dry. He coughed and plodded through the sand to the man silently awaiting his arrival.

“Dr. Donahue.” The professor extended his hand to the stranger.

The man took his hand and smiled. “Thank you for coming. Your research associate mentioned your name last year when he worked with us, and we immediately knew we needed to meet with you.”

Dr. Donahue fanned the remaining traces of the sand from his face. “We?”

The man flashed a half smile. “Consider us like yourself, Professor. Archeologists.”

“I would assume, but that doesn’t answer my question.”

The man chuckled. “By the end of the day, I expect that to change. Come. Follow me,” he beckoned.

Still confused, the professor followed the man down the makeshift stairs to the dig site.

“We’re not certain where it was found,” the man said, waving his arm over the site, “but this is likely close and as good a spot as any.”

“What, exactly, was found?”

The man frowned. “Technically, it was never lost. Let me be more precise. This is where it will be rediscovered.”

The professor felt his frustration growing. “What, and by whom?”

The man turned to face the professor, still smiling. “The oldest copy of the Gospel of Mark ever discovered. I’m what we refer to as a Custodian—a group of people committed to protecting this draft as we have done for more generations than our history may account for.”

The professor’s jaw dropped. He looked for answers in the man’s eyes to questions he could not manage to formulate.

“Every truth has its season, professor,” the man said, lowering himself to sit next on an empty crate near an assortment of digging tools. “This region has been plagued with war. We fear that if the artifact is not returned to the world now, it may never be.”

If his research associate hadn’t already vouched so strongly for the meeting, the professor was certain he would have already left the madman in another cloud of obscuring sand. Instead he asked: “Why have you kept it in the first place?”

“It contains a passage not found in any modern text. What’s the American expression? ‘One man’s waste is another man’s treasure’? That’s how our forefathers saw it. They saw something worthy of protection until the world was ready for the message. That time is now.”

Dr. Donahue smiled. His birthday was the following week, and the realization that his research associate might have set this up as an elaborate practical joke began to seem like the most likely explanation. It wouldn’t be out of character for him, he thought.

“So, where is it?” he asked, playing along.

The man pointed to a black chest. Taking the bait, Dr. Donahue carefully lifted the lid, expecting some puppet to pop out and exclaim “Happy Birthday!” Instead, the heavy lid creaked open to reveal a scroll bound in plastic and wound over on itself. His smile faded. Even without the aid of his radiocarbon dating equipment, he could tell the document was old. Very, very old.



About the Author 

Evan is a member of the LGBTQ community who fancies himself as a playboy socialite, living in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Between work and lucid moments of sobriety, he writes a little. His debut novel is a light-hearted work that still manages to confront religious hypocrisy and contemporary LGBTQ struggles to balance their loss of culture with new-found civil rights. His friends say the book is great! Hopefully, you will as well.



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Review: Common Goal (Game Changers #4) by Rachel Reid

New York Admirals goalie Eric never thought his friends-with-benefits arrangement with much-younger Kyle would leave them both wanting more…

Veteran goaltender Eric Bennett has faced down some of the toughest shooters on the ice, but nothing prepared him for his latest challenge—life after hockey. It’s time to make some big changes, starting with finally dating men for the first time.

Graduate student Kyle Swift moved to New York nursing a broken heart. He’d sworn to find someone his own age to crush on (for once). Until he meets a gorgeous, distinguished silver fox hockey player. Despite their intense physical attraction, Kyle has no intention of getting emotionally involved. He’ll teach Eric a few tricks, have some mutually consensual fun, then walk away.

Eric is more than happy to learn anything Kyle brings to the table. And Kyle never expected their friends-with-benefits arrangement to leave him wanting more. Happily-ever-after might be staring them in the face, but it won’t happen if they’re too stubborn to come clean about their feelings.

Everything they both want is within reach… They just have to be brave enough to grab it.



I love this series so much; it's a comfort read for me. It's smart. It's sexy. And (most importantly) it's got Ilya!

He seems to turn up in every installment to deliver the chuckles, though he was not flying the Chuckle Ship solo this time. Eric "Benny" Bennett's teammates also delivered in the levity department, something that's always a win for me.

As much as I liked Benny and Kyle Common Goal started off slow for me. The push/pull thing is not one of my favorites. I like my MCs to use their words. These two gets points for using words they just used the wrong ones. Not great but points for effort.

However, what turned the tide was Benny being willing to embrace his bisexuality for the first time in his life at 41. I'm a sucker for sexual discovery plus I really liked Benny. He's not a character that leaps off the page like Ilya or one that you want to mummify in bubble wrap like Ryan but he's just... good people. Genuine. Loyal. Humble.

He wants a relationship, someone to share his life with and because he's such a good person he feels the 16 year age difference between he and Kyle would be shortchanging Kyle. Thus the push/pull betwixt what he thinks is the "right" thing to do and what he actually wants begins.

Rest assured, he wants Kyle with the force of a Cat-5 hurricane.

Kyle even though he's still kind of rebounding from his unrequited crush on Kip quickly turns into Team Benny's #1 fan. Maybe it was too quick but then again Benny is well, Benny so... I get it and what's more, Kyle counterbalances Benny superbly. He's just exuberant enough to bring out Benny's playful and adventurous sides and they have just enough in common to make me buy into their well-suitedness.

To get the ball rolling, Kyle offers to be a "mentor" in all things gay. Let me just say, the sex is... SKYROCKETS IN FLIGHT!!!!!!!!! AFTERNOON (and evening. and morning) DELIIIIiiiiiiiiIIIIIIIiiiiiiiiiIIIIiiiiiIIGHT!!!! Bossy top, edging, a little bondage, begging... *bites fist*

Their connection builds slowly and it took me a while to invest but once I did I enjoyed their journey.

Alongside Benny and Kyle's journey, what I liked a lot again were the secondary characters. I felt like I really got to know (and like) Scott in this one and the whole Maria-n-Matti Jalo thing... can I get a short on this? Do I need to beg? Though if there's one thing I crave in a sports romance it's team dynamics and those were on point in Common Goal! The whole locker room scene was funny and heartwarming... perfection.

Bottom line: Reid delivered again and I can't wait to see what's in store for us in Game Changers #5. 

*cough*Dallas Kent*cough*

C'mon! It would be the greatest twist to ever twist!



An ARC was provided by the publisher in exchange for an honest review.



Blog Tour + Giveaway: A Fine Mess (Brimstone #7) by Angel Martinez


Author Angel Martinez and Other Worlds Ink visit today! Check out today's blog tour stop for space opera comedy, A Fine Mess (Brimstone #7)! Plus, also win a $25 Mischief Corner Books Gift Card in the giveaway attached! Check it out!



A Fine Mess - Angel Martinez - Brimstone


Angel Martinez has a new queer space opera comedy out, book seven in her Brimstone series: "A Fine Mess." And there's a giveaway!

Beware the demon prince who's sick and tired of running.

Federico Duomo is dead, to begin with. But this is only the first bit of Shax's problems resolved. Powerful crime lords and an obscenely wealthy oligarch are still determined to destroy him and his crew, and Fluffy's original owner may be coming after the Brimstone now, too. It would be splendid to be able to take on one thing at a time.

Adding to the external conflicts, life on board the Brimstone has only grown increasingly stranger. Shax has no idea what to do with the seven partly human children that Heckle rescued from slavers. Heckle himself has grown short-tempered, even with Mac. Someone from Julian's past catches up to them on Barbary. It's enough to put a demon off his cinnamon buns.

Shax isn't panicking, though. In fact he's had it up to his handsome royal nose with the people he loves having to live in constant fear. The fox has turned at bay and the Brimstone's enemies are in for a shock. The demon prince of thieves is coming for them.

About the Series:

Due to circumstances completely within his control, Shax, the Demon Prince of Thieves, has fled, er, emigrated from Earth to seek his fortunes out in the galaxy. Who said Science Fiction always has to be serious?


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Giveaway

Angel is giving away a $25 Mischief Corner Books Gift Card with this tour. Enter via Rafflecopter:

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Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47134/?




Excerpt


A Fine Mess

"Captain Cream Puff, Glkix is on the line for you." Ms. Ivana kept her voice to a throaty purr, probably in deference to the early hour.

While Shax had been expecting the call, he would've preferred at least one more cup of coffee beforehand. "Thank you, my dear. Put her through to my comm, please."

He arranged himself in his desk chair to appear calm and unaffected, coffee mug in one hand for any necessary sardonic or thoughtful sipping. A brief flicker through the relays, and Glkix's image hovered above the holo plate on his desk. Her blue-black hair swept up and pinned with obsidian, her gray-green face smooth and serene, his mother's personal assistant was as elegant as ever. Few people would have picked up the tightness around her eyes, and only if they'd known her as long as Shax had. Not good news, then.

"Good morning, highness. Your royal mother sends greetings."

"Thank you, Glkix. Please convey my filial greetings in return." Shax's nerves got the better of him. He sipped. "You have something for me?"

Incomprehensible data flowed across the screen as Glkix typed. "We were able to track her genetic material through registered bloodlines and make discreet inquiries regarding missing stock. Her lineage is well-documented and highly prized among certain demon lords, highness."

Is this flattery or an explanation of methodology? Sometimes it's so hard to tell. "Yes? Do you have an answer, or is this just an update on progress?"

Glkix cleared her throat, eyes glued to the data stream. "An answer, highness. Your hellcat belongs to Baphomet, Lord of Beasts."

Hell's shiny, pointy gates. Inside, Shax ran in little circles screaming. Outwardly, he sipped. "I see. Does he know I have her?"

"Abject apologies, highness. I've little data on that." Glkix ducked in a strange sort of seated bow. "We know that Lord Baphomet was visiting a forested moon near Opal when the hellcat in question—"

"Fluffy."

"Pardon, highness?"

Though he knew she'd never approved of his names for his pets, he persisted. "My hellcat's name is Fluffy."

Glkix cringed. "Er. Yes. When Fluffy was stolen from her pride."

"Do we know by whom?"

"No, highness. Not yet."

Shax drummed his fingers on his mug and forced himself not to sip. Control. Control. "And m'lord of beasts? Where is he now?"

"Hunting, highness. In his ship, Cornuta." Glkix shook her head. "We are trying to redirect wherever possible, Prince Shax."

"Understood." All too well. "Thank you for the information. Mother can't possibly be paying you enough."

"I live to serve, highness." She executed her seated bow again, and Shax cut the connection.

Carefully, he placed his mug on the desk. Pushed back his chair. Bent over his knees and screamed into his hands for a solid forty-five seconds.

Of course, he should have known better. Boots pounded down the corridor almost before he'd stopped, and his door whooshed open. Through his fingers, he spotted Ness in the doorway with his wings mantled in a fierce defensive position and his plasma pistol drawn. Julian, knives out, slid in under Ness's wing and dove behind the trunk Shax had pulled from the closet earlier.

"Shax? Everything all right?" Ness ventured after a stunned and puzzled silence.

Julian vaulted the trunk to sit on its lid. "We thought something was murdering you."

"No murders." Shax sat up and forced himself to draw in a slow breath. "Not yet, at any rate."

Instead of acknowledging him, Ness turned to Julian. "I don't think it was an angry scream."

"Right." Julian nodded. "No prince-in-a-snit smoke. I'd say frustration, except there was definitely a squeaky note to it."

"You're both vastly entertaining and should consider taking this on the road." Shax scowled at each in turn. "But this is serious."

Ness flipped and reflipped his wings as he folded them before sitting on the bunk. "Perhaps you could enlighten us, love."

"Fluffy…" Shax paused as the hellcat in question trotted through the open door to butt her head against him almost hard enough to knock him from his chair. "Yes, you’re a good girl. Who's the best Fluffums? Ahem. Fluffy was stolen from Baphomet."

"I'm gathering that's not good." Ness let her waving tail run through his hand, careful of the sickle blade on the end, his expression unreadable.

"ISE lists Lord Baphomet as a class IV demon lord. Not of the highest rank, so he's able to leave Sol system," Julian offered softly. "Unpredictable, motivations unclear; do not, under any circumstances, engage."

"While Enforcement and I disagree on many things, that's a frighteningly apt assessment." Mug back in hand, Shax took a fortifying sip. "He may be hunting us and, I'll be honest, this is definitely cause for alarm. Mum and Glkix have apparently been sending him off in various directions, but he will find us at some point."

The crinkle in Ness's forehead showed the first sign of real concern. "Is he family? Do you know him well?"

Shax waved a hand at the universe. "All demon lords are family in a sense. I don't believe we're directly related, mind you. And Mum would never allow association with the more, ah, nature-oriented demons. Mud and dust and sticks in your hair…"

"That's a no, then," Julian drawled. "This may sound absurd to you, our lovely prince, but could you contact him? Let him know what happened?"

A cold iron weight lodged in Shax's stomach and the backs of his eyes burned as he choked out, "But he'll want Fluffy back."

Everyone lunged toward him with huffs and other distressed sounds, and he found himself surrounded by arms and wings, with a huge hellcat head in his lap.

"Shax. I'm so sorry," Julian whispered. "Please don't cry."

"I most certainly am not." Of course, a hot teardrop chose that moment to splash onto Julian's hand.

Ness stroked his hair. "We know you love her. But she had a pride once, didn't she? Maybe a family?"

"Of course." Shax shook himself and swiped at his eyes. Part of him wanted to collapse against them and howl like a six-year-old demon, but he was the captain, and there was such a thing as dignity. "Of course. And better to inform him than to have him come after us in a rage. I'll… send the message."




Author Bio


Angel Martinez

Angel Martinez is the pen name of a writer of several genres who writes both kinds of queer fiction – Science Fiction and Fantasy. (What? There are others?) Currently living part time in the hectic sprawl of northern Delaware, (and full time inside the author's head) Angel has one husband, one son, at least one cat at any given time, a changing variety of other furred and scaled companions, a love of all things beautiful and a terrible addiction to the consumption of both knowledge and chocolate.

Author Website: https://angelmartinezauthor.weebly.com/

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/amartinez2

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/Angel.Martinez.author/

Author Twitter: https://twitter.com/AngelMartinezrr

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1010469.Angel_Martinez

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/angel-martinez/

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Angel-Martinez/e/B001KHMFTG


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Release Blitz: Fake It Til You Make Out (Love & Luck, #1) by Isla Olsen


Author Isla Olsen & Vibrant Promotions are here today celebrating the release of the first in the Love & Luck series, Fake It Til You Make Out. Find out more about this romantic comedy & read an excerpt too!

Fake it 'til you make it RDB Banner

Fake it 'til You Make Out
Love and Luck Series, Book 1
Isla Olsen
M/M Romantic Comedy, Friends to Lovers
Release Date: 02.09.20

Fake-it-til-you-make-out-Kindle

Blurb
Heath
It’s a classic story: Boy meets girl, girl breaks boy’s heart, boy pretends to be gay to get back at girl, girl outs boy to everyone on Facebook…
Okay, maybe it’s not that classic. But it’s what happened to me.
When I bump into my cheating ex and catch sight of the moon-sized rock on her finger, there’s only one option to save face: pretend to be dating my gay best friend, Declan.
And when she outs me on Facebook and everyone I know sees it, there’s still only one option: keep pretending to be dating

Declan.
And when Declan and I have to kiss to keep up the ruse and it turns out there’s actually a spark between us (more like a blazing inferno, if truth be told) there’s once again only one option…
Warning: this book is not appropriate for anyone who doesn’t like laughing, anyone who doesn’t like dogs, or anyone who doesn’t like hot men having a lot of sex…with each other.
Cover designer: Michele Catalano
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Excerpt
So…she’s engaged. No doubt to that underwear model she left me for. I’m not jealous, not of the engagement at least. But, damn it, if there was a winner and a loser in this break up, that rock pretty much decided it.

I blame my next move on my competitive nature. It’s the only explanation for the complete brain malfunction that comes over me as I reach out, grab hold of Declan’s hand and then press my body into him, stroking his arm as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. As if cuddling up to your gay best buddy isn’t totally weird.

I feel Dec’s body stiffen for a moment before relaxing. He hated Allison even before we broke up, so if there’s anyone who’d be on board with messing with her like this, it’s him.

“You remember Declan, right?” I ask Allison.

“Yeah, of course.” She catches sight of our clasped hands and the way we’re leaning into each other and her eyes bug out Rodger Rabbit style. “Wait—are you guys…?”

“Yup!” I flash her a bright grin. “I’m all for the dick now. I swallow cum and everything—it’s delicious.”
IMG_5632 3

Isla Olsen is the romance-writing alter-ego of a YA Fantasy author. She first discovered her love of romantic comedies when, after spending all her work time lost in epic fantasy worlds, she decided she needed something light and fluffy to read in her downtime. She quickly became addicted to authors like Lauren Blakely, Tara Sivec and Rachel Van Dyken, and then one day she discovered MM…and there was no going back after that! After all, two hot guys are better than one, right?
Isla lives in Melbourne, Australia with her giant bed-hogging Rhodesian Ridgeback; she’s a major sports fan (yes, rugby is way better than American Football!), a chocoholic, loves Chinese food, and is a firm believer that the best music was created way before she was born.
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