Showing posts with label Elf. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Elf. Show all posts

Release Blitz + Giveaway: Kelpie's Claiming (Fairview Chronicles #10) by Alexa Piper


 

Author Alexa Piper and IndiGo Marketing share new paranomal thriller, Kelpie's Claiming (Fairview Chronicles #10)! Read more from the latest fantasy romantic suspense and enter in the Changeling Press credit giveaway!

Title: Kelpie's Claiming

Series: Fairview Chronicles 10

Author: Alexa Piper

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC

Release Date: May 13, 2022

Heat Level: 4 - Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 147 pages

Genre: Romance, Mystery, Thriller/Suspense, Paranormal Romance, Action Adventure, Dark Fantasy, Alternate Universe, Shapeshifters

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Synopsis

Rob’s current goal in life? Do not eat people. That’s easier said than done when you’re a kelpie in the service industry. While Rob pursues his goals from behind the bar, a stranger walks in, and Rob catches the man’s scent. Yet, patrons are not for eating, and it should have ended there… except when Rob smells that delicious scent again, the beautiful stranger needs help.

Bertrand wants to fit in, but because he’s part Fae, part Elf, and grew up human, he’s not really at home in either human or supernatural society. Still, he likes being a reporter and following a story all the way to its conclusion. The story he’s pursuing when he walks into Rob’s bar one night is one of supernaturals going missing, and Bertrand seems to be the only one who cares.

Meeting Bertrand might just shift Rob’s life goals. Coming face-to-face with a kelpie stallion might be enough to help Bertrand see where he fits in perfectly. Except Bertrand doesn’t really know what to make of Rob, and also, Bertrand's missing persons story is bigger than even he envisioned. It’s turning into a case of abduction and trafficking he needs to unravel before he can even think about Rob’s advances. The story will lead Bertrand to some dark places before the year is out.

Excerpt

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2022 Alexa Piper

Rob

In his more philanthropic youth, Rob had been excited about opening a bar-slash-diner and making a name for his establishment. He had succeeded with the Ragdoll, which was known for amazing sandwiches and exquisite liquor concoctions in supernatural circles and human circles alike. Going fully vegetarian had been the logical choice for Rob when he’d moved to the city of Fairview.

Now, he had over twenty years in the service industry under his belt, and the occasional slice of liver sounded so appealing when Rob had to cling on to his smile for all he was worth in front of a customer. It was why he’d hired a half-succubus and sexy Ilya whatever-he-was to handle the personal interactions.

(Rob was convinced Ilya could have, if he’d ever shown the inclination, charmed the pants off a barstool if barstools wore pants.) But now, with Ilya in love with a disgustingly rich witch and consequently out of town for whatever spell the Fey had planned to put on Rob’s most beloved employee, Rob had to pick up the slack behind the bar. And Ilya’s brother was not a suitable replacement, even if he was responding well to getting trained for the job.

“There is not enough rum in this,” the customer told Rob again, and Rob was pulled from his musings and back to wishing for a slice of liver.

“I’m ever so sorry,” Rob said without conviction. He looked up from the lime he was about to dismember on his cutting board behind the bar and glanced over the customer’s shoulder at Titi. The busboy was taking down the Fat Man Day decorations and prepping the Ragdoll for Sparklers and Public Drunkenness Day. There would be even more early drinkers here on Sparklers and Public Drunkenness Day, and Rob would have to be behind the bar, because sweet Ilya was getting bewitched.

“So are you gonna make me a new one?” the customer asked. Apparently, the red-faced man in his thirties with a beer belly threatening already was still there. At three in the afternoon. To consume rum cocktails. Not that Rob was the judgy type.

Rob had no intention of making another Mai Tai. He took a step to his right, located the dark rum, and poured the customer another finger of the liquor into his glass. “There you go,” Rob said, giving the man his best take it or leave it look.

The man looked from Rob to the cocktail, back again, and took it. He was complaining under his breath as he moved back to the table he’d occupied with two equally annoying male companions. The beer bellies were imminent in all of them, in Rob’s opinion. Sadly, that meant their livers would be fatty rather than yummy.

“Sorry,” Ilya’s brother said. Rob looked over to the man, who wore a black button-down shirt and jeans, but not as well as Ilya. He didn’t look half as sexy as Ilya. Rob still could not understand how that worked, how they were related. Ilya was a mysterious pale-skinned and raven-haired delight (who could easily handle over-drunk patrons with his charm). Kyle was plain dishwater blond. It made no sense, apart from being unfair to Rob, who would have loved nothing better than two Ilyas behind his bar.

“It’s fine,” Rob said. “The drink wasn’t the issue.”

Kyle narrowed his eyes and looked at the floor. “Okay.”

Rob frowned. Kyle was an odd one, but he followed direction perfectly. The real downside was simply that he wasn’t the sexy barman his brother was.

“Really, it’s okay. Some people just need to be assholes, and there is nothing you can do about that.” He patted Kyle on the shoulder. Kyle jerked a little at the contact before he relaxed.

Rob felt that was enough life advice, so he went back to murdering the lime. About five seconds later, the door opened, and on a breeze of cold air, the local mage and one of her lovers drifted into the bar. This lover (the nice one) was slightly too chatty for Rob’s taste, but judging by the time, the two of them were just here for a late lunch or coffee and something sweet. (This time, Rob hoped they wouldn’t have their… dessert in the ladies’ room. Rob wasn’t a prude by any means, he just disliked cleaning a bathroom after people spent time on their knees in there for whatever reason, and it was extra work, even if Kyle happily volunteered each time.)

Predictably, after the mage -- in conversation with the nice lover -- waved hello at Rob and Kyle, who seemed like he wanted to hide under the bar at seeing her, they made for a table rather than the bar. Rob knew Ilya, and possibly the Fey witch, had gotten the mage to become a regular, and it made Rob miss his night bartender all the more.

Kyle sidled up close to Rob. “Uhm, do you want me to serve them?” he asked quietly.

Rob put his knife down. This lime was getting lucky, for now. “I can do it. I don’t think she bites, and that lover definitely doesn’t.”

Purchase

Changeling Press LLC | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iTunes

Meet the Author

Alexa Piper writes steamy romance that ranges from light to dark, from straight to queer. She’s also a coffee addict. Alexa loves writing stories that make her readers laugh and fall in love with the characters in them. Connect with Alexa on Facebook or Instagram, follow her on Twitter or TikTok, and subscribe to her newsletter!

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | BookBub

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

 

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

AUDIOBOOK OUT NOW

Book Title: Tristan

Author: S. Legend

Publisher: S Legend Fiction

Narrator: Curtis Michael

Release Date: November 24, 2021

Genre:  Arranged Marriage M/M Romance, fantasy

Tropes: Enemies to lovers, age gap

Themes: Self-discovery, forgiveness

Heat Rating: 4 flames     

Length: 9 hours    

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

Goodreads

Buy Links

Audiobook Out Now

Audible US  |  Audible UK

Also available in Kindle Unlimited, Hardback and Paperback

Amazon US   |  Amazon UK  

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

Blurb 

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

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

Tristan is forced to give up his dream. 

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

Probably.

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

Corrik bans him from cool weapons.

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

Facing the Ice Prince and himself.

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

But Corrik won’t bend.

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

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

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

Excerpt

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

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

That was when I saw him for the rst time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

About the Author 

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

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

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

And so. 

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

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

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

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

Social Media Links

Blog/Website  |   Facebook  |   Twitter  |  Instagram  

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

Pinterest  |   BookBub

About the Narrator

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

Website  |  Instagram

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Release Tour: Mistletoe & Dragons By Kelsey Hodge


Celebrate new release, Mistletoe & Dragons with author Kelsey Hodge! Read more today!


 

It's out NOW on #amazon and #KindleUnlimited

#Holidayromance#mmromance

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09MCC6RB9

Caden

I’ve been around for centuries and, although I love living with the Easter elves, it never fully feels like home. Now I’ve been asked to go and work in Geimhreadh, the one place that felt like home when I was last there. I’m excited to work with another chocolatier, but when I arrive, I discover the feeling isn’t mutual. But why can’t I get him out of my head?

LumiI
love working with chocolate, and this Christmas, I get to work on my own and create my own ideas. But then I’m informed I have help coming. Help I don’t want. So I promise myself to make his time with me in Geimhreadh as miserable as possible. Then he arrives and my plans go out the window. He’s all I can think about. I do everything I can to fight it…until what I am fighting against no longer matters.

Follow Kelsey Hodge
https://linktr.ee/Kelseyhodge80




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Guest Review: Wicked Lovely (The Black Blade Chronicles #1) by J.K. Hogan

Darkness grows in the realm of Taleth. To the west, a power-hungry despot schemes to conquer kingdoms and territories alike by chasing an ancient elven prophecy that could give him the power to rule all. In the east, after a prince’s murder goes years unanswered, a princess learns there was much more to her brother’s death—and to her life—than she realized.

The House of Kjenelach is shaken to its foundation when Princess Sigrid is stolen away. Her faithful guardian, Sir Senne Clayward, reluctantly accepts help from his nemesis, a notorious halfling mercenary of questionable morals—but indispensable tracking skills—called Kasimir vas Hjardar.

Kasimir makes his living hunting monsters, both creatures and men. While he exists outside the law, he lives by his own unassailable code of honor. At the top of that list: never harm a child. When he turns down a contract to kidnap Sigrid and later finds out she was taken by someone else, he offers his help to the prickly knight tasked with protecting her.

Together, they embark upon a journey across the continent to save Sigrid and foil King Prosper’s plans to conquer Taleth. The way is fraught with dangers and pitfalls, from supernatural beasts to Senne’s deathly fear of magic, but they must not fail, for Sigrid may very well be the savior of the realm: the long prophesied Aisnellach Fuil. Somehow, the two men must set their differences aside and work together to rescue Sigrid, and possibly find love along the way.


Reviewer: Free Dreamer


Prophecies, magic, action and adventure with just a dash of romance? Count me in!

The prologue starts the book off with a bang. I was hooked right away. The plot is fairly action-packed and while there were no shocking turns, "Wicked Lovely" still proved to be an enjoyable page turner.

The setting is a bit generic. There's so many Fantasy books set in a world that's heavily inspired by the Western Europe during the Middle Ages. Some of the creatures we encounter seem to be vaguely influenced by Irish mythology. Kasimir is a halfling, which in itself isn't exactly innovative. But unlike all the other halflings I've encountered so far, he's not half human and half something else.

I'm usually not a huge fan of the enemies to lovers trope and this book certainly had a bit of that. It wasn't overdone, though, and since we got both Kasimir's and Senne's pov, I could relate to their actions and the animosity in the beginning. I didn't particularly care for the sex scenes, however. Since they were on the move a lot, hygiene wasn't exactly great. Not many baths for these two. And I'm sorry, but I just think rimming after a few days of hard riding and no bath to be found is just kind of gross.

Sigrid also gets her own pov, but not as often as the guys. From what there is, she seems a bit stereotypical. The wild princess who doesn't want to be a princess and doesn't behave like one at all. But she's only 15 and teenagers tend to rebel anyway.

The world building was good, but not great. I would have liked a bit more depth, but there are a lot of elements I really enjoyed.

Overall "Wicked Lovely" was a good read. Not amazing, but definitely enough to keep me interested in the series. I'm looking forward to part 2!

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



Release Blitz + Giveaway: Courting Nightfall by Amanda Meuwissen

The Courting Nightfall release blitz from author Amanda Meuwissen and Gay Book Promotions visits the blog today! Fantasy lovers check it out, find out more about the darker fantasy romance and enter in the eBook giveaway, courtesy of the author and JMS Books!

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Courting Nightfall

Author: Amanda Meuwissen

Publisher: JMS Books

Cover Artist: Written Ink Designs

Release Date: June 19, 2021

Genres: Paranormal, High Fantasy, Horror, Dark M/M Romance

Tropes: Reincarnation, vampires, enemies to lovers, his first time, blood play

Themes:  Self-acceptance, redemption, love means letting go

Heat Rating: 4 flames  

Length: 182 pages

It is a standalone story

Goodreads 

Buy Links

Amazon US   |   Amazon UK 

JMS Books

Zen had only—literally only—ever dreamed that someone would want him this much…

Blurb

Zen is a half dark elf in a world that hates him, protected by being raised by the Order of the Sun to become a priest. He longs for a different life with a mysterious, beautiful man he only glimpses in dreams. After encountering an adventuring party, Zen is drawn to accompany them to destroy a fabled vampire lord, but the pull he feels toward those lands might be more fated than he realizes.

Excerpt 

That night, before falling into an exhausted sleep—in his tiny, wooden bed with minimal padding and coarse blankets—Zen gently touched the scar that ran full circle around his neck. He tried ignoring it during the day, hidden by the high collar of his vestments, but in bed, out of his robes, his fingers often strayed there. 

He didn’t know what had caused the wire-thin line. He’d had it all his life and often wondered if it had been a failed attempt to kill him as an infant. Like Father Lewis had said, he’d been abandoned on the steps of the temple. 

No one wanted a darkling child. 

Zen’s existence, his life, was most people’s nightmare, which was why it amazed and yet soothed him that he never experienced nightmares himself. His dreams were sweet. There he had no scars. In his dreams, he was whole and wanted. 

Desired, even.

A warm, human hand trailed slowly across Zen’s unmarred neck and down his naked body. Here his bed was plush and opulent, or perhaps it belonged to the man he imagined himself with. Zen had never met anyone like him in waking life, yet every dream he’d had since he first knew he desired men starred the same mysterious figure. 

Zen never saw his face clearly, but he was still a vision of noble beauty. Skin pale as cream with soft color in his cheeks, neatly trimmed black hair that occasionally fell into his eyes—and oh, his eyes. Some might think them haunting or eerie, being such a rich, ruddy brown that they almost looked red, but Zen adored them. He adored the smooth, flawless form laid out beside him, trim but well-muscled, and as naked as he was. 

Still, all those features painted an incomplete picture that he could never quite bring into focus. 

The man’s sex was impressive though, no doubt conjured from Zen’s most carnal fantasies, as ruddy as his eyes, swollen and leaking wetness onto the sheets. Zen had often longed to know the feel of it in his hands, his mouth, and deep inside him, but his dreams never allowed more than a tease. 

Zen didn’t know the man’s name and had never made one up, but he thought of him as an angel, giving him pleasures where real life never could. 

“You are a beautiful crystalline snowflake, my love, silver and blue and pure blinding white.” He kissed Zen’s cheek, his fingertips tracing mischievously down Zen’s stomach. His other hand ran blunt nails through Zen’s short white hair.  

That wasn’t right. Zen kept his snowy-white locks tied back, but his hair fell well past his shoulders. Like the missing scar, he was different here in the dreamworld. 

“I miss you,” his angel whispered and bent to kiss Zen’s lips. 

Then touch me, Zen thought, pressing upward and opening his mouth to connect them more deeply, while instantly wanting more. 

He didn’t know why his mind created a human man instead of someone more like him. Maybe because humans were all he’d ever known. The man was stunning regardless and saw Zen the way he’d always wished someone would. 

“Come, my love.”

Zen wanted to—

“Come to me. Come for me, my beautiful darkling, but come to me as well.”

Zen didn’t understand. How much closer could they get? His angel was between his legs, warm hand curling around him and squeezing with promise. Still, for all the lust that stirred in Zen, it was the intimacy of another kiss to his cheek that filled him with the most want. 

“Please, love, come to me. Come…” He stroked Zen firmly while licking up along one of his pointed darkling ears, inducing a deep shudder from low at the base of Zen’s spine. “Come… my Zenos.”

That wasn’t—

“Now!”

Zen’s eyes snapped open as if triggered by a spring, his sheets sticky and damp atop him from how he’d come before waking. 

Damn it. He rarely did that, usually waking hard and unfulfilled, and then taking himself in hand. Today he’d made a mess, and it wasn’t even morning.  

About the Author 

Amanda Meuwissen is a bisexual author, with a primary focus on M/M romance. As author of the paranormal romance trilogy The Incubus Saga and several other titles with various publishers, Amanda regularly attends local comic conventions for fun and to meet with fans, where she will often be seen in costume as one of her favorite fictional characters. She lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota, with her husband, John, and their cat, Helga.

Author Links

Blog/Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter

Instagram  |  Pinterest  |  Newsletter Sign-up

Giveaway 

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an eBook copy of Courting Nightfall

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Wyvern Ways & Elven Magic (Fire & Flutter #2) by Bailey Bradford


Don't miss the final day of the Wyvern Ways & Elven Magic (Fire & Flutter #2) release blitz, courtesy of author Bailey Bradford and Pride Publishing! Read more and enter in the eBook giveaway from the author!

Wyvern Ways & Elven Magic by Bailey Bradford

Book 2 in the Fire & Flutter series

Word Count: 54,247
Book Length: NOVEL
Pages: 219

Genres:

 CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
FANTASY
GAY
GLBTQI
PARANORMAL

Add to Goodreads

Book Description

Take one magic-sensitive wyvern shifter, one horny royal-adjacent elf…and stand well back.

Brick’s a wyvern shifter, but he’s not wily or skilled in diplomacy like wyvern shifters should be. Instead, he’s big and brawny and slower than the rest of his family—the ruling family. Worse, he doesn’t fare well around magic, so being in the elf kingdom for the royal wedding celebrations is one big nosebleed. Literally.

Jagger’s an elf. A royal-adjacent one, whose family have been chancellors and councilors to the king for centuries. It must have skipped a generation, however, as Jagger’s more interested in drinking and seducing his way through the kingdom. Well, everyone wants to know if it’s true what they say about elves, right? Spoiler alert—it is.

When Brick discovers he’s being handed over as part of the wyvern-elf alliance treaty, he fumes and decides to cut ties with his family to make his own way in the world. But first, he has to find his way out of the elf kingdom. Asking at the tavern for an elf to be his guide, he’s taken to a room where a half-naked Jagger is lounging on a four-poster bed.

And that’s just the beginning of their dangerous, crazy and sexy adventure…

Excerpt

“Ow!” Brick grabbed at the hand slapping his face and glared at its owner. If he hadn’t known who was hitting him, the selection of bright cocktail rings and the jingling bracelets she wore would have told him it was his younger sister, Scarlet. “Any reason you’re smacking my face?”

Scarlet tilted her head, her forehead creased. “Habit? Whatevs. Hold still—”

Brick held still enough for her to shove wads of cotton wool up his nostrils, then brushed her hand away. Scarlet’s sharp fingernails near any of his body parts made him uneasy at the best of times, and in the rumbling, jolting carriage he and she were currently traveling in, more so. Her nails were long and pointed and they gleamed the brightest mahogany shade she could find, all to mimic the talons they became when she shifted.

Well, that’s only natural, Brick reasoned. Wyverns in general were proud of being wyverns, the ruling family even more so and his sister, the youngest offspring of the Ruby Throne, in particular.

“Thanks,” he muttered, the thick clog in his voice not just due to his nosebleed and the wedges of cotton wool. “Thanks for staying with me.” He knew she’d rather be flying alongside the carriage with their father, Potentate Carnell of the Ruby Throne, and mother, the First Lady Cerise, not to mention the son and heir, Lord Gules, and their older sister, Lady Vermillion. But it was her turn to keep him company, and Scarlet, like all of them, put family duty first.

“Sit up straight,” she replied, wagging a finger in the direction of his face to tell him it was the best way to deal with a nosebleed. She knew. All his family did—Brick got them when he was around magic, and they were prepared for today. “Open wide for your pills.”

Brick obediently opened his mouth, and Scarlet, snickering, moved back to the farthest corner of the royal carriage and flicked in first one tablet, then another, using her middle finger and thumb to launch them as if she were playing a game and getting points. Scarlet performed her family obligations, sure…and made sure she had fun doing so. But she loved Brick, just as he did her.

He tried not to choke—the tablets were huge and foul-tasting. “Thanks,” he repeated, wishing she’d thought to give him a drink to swallow them down with. Actually, no—he didn’t want her squirting it in with a water pistol. He checked the cotton wool was still in place up each nostril. “There must be a lot of magic in the air here.”

“Well, duh,” his sister replied. “Inside the elven kingdom, and just approaching the capital? What d’you expect? They breathe it in and fart it out here, then breathe it in again.” Oh, she was a charmer. “I got orders to smarten you up—you’re not gonna bleed on me, are you?”

He shook his head and let her pull his smart suit jacket into place as if he were a baby, for all she was younger than he was. Well, that fits, with me being as useless as a hatchling. She tutted and brushed off the shoulders and lapels, as if he had flaking head scales. I don’t, do I? That’d be all he needed, with them having to look their best as they arrived for this regal state occasion.

As soon as Scarlet settled back again, grumbling that there wasn’t much she could do with his short hair, he took a sly peep in the glass of the carriage window to check for scale-flake. He caught a quick glimpse of his bronze skin and slitted gold eyes before the spectacle outside claimed his attention. Oh, not the well-maintained kingdom they were driving through, with its paved roads, sturdy-looking buildings and general cleanliness all signs of its good governance, but his family, in the air above the small procession.

Brick lowered the glass to see better. The four royal wyverns made a stunning, vibrant swoop of color as they flew, their wings beating with synchronized grace, their heads turning slowly on their long, elegant necks to incline this way and that at the gasps and applause from townsfolk lining the route, who were all eager to see visiting nobles and dignitaries.

“Elven folk must be used to flying beasts, right?” he asked Scarlet.

She scoffed. “Not like us.”

“Yeah.” Brick had to admit that. A woman stumbled, shading her eyes against the wyverns’ shimmering scales, the gleaming shades of red carefully arranged from his father Carnell’s shining cardinal to his mother Cerise’s glossy pomegranate—“the first seen in the kingdom in a hundred years!” as she often reminded people.

His brother Gules’ proud imperial red came next, then his sister Vermillion’s brash crimson. The family at wing, in the correct order, looked like flames burning up the sky.

Although why they should want to arrive anywhere making the place look like it was on fire, Brick couldn’t fathom. What he did know was Scarlet wanted to be up there too, making an entrance like a bold streak of lava against the blue and white of the sky. He jumped as the most jewel-colored creature of the quartet swooped low and stuck her beak through the window—his mother, checking in on him.

She couldn’t talk in her shifted form, of course, but he had no problem interpreting her caw and twists and jerks of her head. She was concerned for him—she loved him. They all did. Like they would any slow-witted hatchling. He wasn’t wily or cunning, no asset in statecraft or trade negotiations, so they gave him busy work. Grunt work. He nodded to show Cerise he was fine and reached up to pat her on the head, near the top, just after the brow ridge finished.

With a click of her beak, she took off again and rejoined Carnell, circling him with a slow flap of her wings before taking her place at his side. He flicked his tail out to slide along hers.

“Oh, ewww!” Scarlet, on the seat opposite him now, pointed up at the Potentate and First Lady and retched like a caterwaul bringing up a hairball. She made a show of rummaging for one of the sick bags they kept for Brick—there was no telling what form his sensitivity to magic might take. “Old people foreplay is just gross.”

Brick didn’t think it was that bad. Sure, he had no wish whatsoever to see his parents making out like subadults or immatures ever, anywhere, but that they were still loving and affectionate was…something he didn’t see himself ever having. The only people who’d wanted him so far had been those seeking a way into the ruling family and using him as their way to get within polishing distance of the Ruby Throne.

“Mommy, look!” A little girl on the sidewalk near a tavern, her eyes full of wonder, tugged at her mother’s arm. “Up there—dragons!”

Wyverns!” yelled Scarlet, flinging herself so far out of the window to correct the kid that Brick, alarmed for her safety, grabbed at the back of her dress. “Look at the picture, small fry!” She tapped the crest on the side of the royal coach, a plain outline of an almost S-shaped beast, its wings stretched and its slim legs prominent. “Count the limbs, kid. There’s two, not four. We look like lumbering oxen dragons to you?”

She subsided into her seat again and shot Brick a glance. “No offense, bro.”

“I know.” Brick was wide and tall, built like a brick smokehouse, as the saying went, whereas wyverns, in addition to being wily, were light and lithe. Winged serpents, really. He tried not to feel like he was letting down the Ruby Throne, but…

You’re not even red!” Olahf had scorned when, realizing a relationship with Brick wouldn’t bring him into the inner governing circle, he’d ended things between them. “Brick by name and brick by nature and brick by color!” Yeah, Olahf didn’t really have the gift of eloquence a senator or diplomat should, although his tongue could be said to have been silver in other ways… Brick shivered at the memory, then felt sad.

How much of that had been fake? Had Olahf even liked him? If not, their relationship had been, well, transactional at best and icky at worst. It had also made him dwell on his experiences with all the other wyvern shifters who’d befriended him over the years…and hadn’t seemed very friendly. How many had if not used him, then put up with him, for what they could get out of it?

Would life have been different if I were called Flame, or, or Rosso? Maybe if the former, he’d have been dashing and just a little bit dangerous, or if the latter, darkly seductive and a lot more dangerous?

“Persimmon’s a good name,” he mused out loud. “Then Sim would be a good nick. ‘Hey, Sim, coming out for a quick tankard of sack mead?’ Maybe Simmy? ‘Simmy, joining us for dawn patrol?’ Perse? Percy?”

“What? No—you know what? Never mind.” Scarlet waved a hand at him. “Because we’re nearly there.”

About to ask his sister how she knew they were almost at their destination—where they’d be doing some trade-and-aid diplomacy over drinks—Brick saw the ceremonial herald bird flying to join the four wyverns in the sky. The escort would please his mother, who was into appearances. Even his father had commented more than once that the elves had used to do things properly, and that he hoped the Storm King was keeping up traditions.

“He will as long as he has Jerrick advising him,” Cerise always replied. “Jerrick served Jade’s father, too, and Jerrick’s father, Jacron, was chancellor to the Storm Emperor before that. And Jerrick’s son—” She usually stopped herself there.

“Gotta love ya and leave ya!” Scarlet opened the carriage door even though the vehicle was still trundling along.

“I feel okay now the meds have kicked in,” Brick assured her. “Shouldn’t I join in?”

“And risk you having an allergy—sorry, sensitivity—attack up above and bleeding down on Jade or his big green groom?” Scarlet sniggered. “While it would be hilarious, best not.” Blowing a kiss over her shoulder at him, she launched herself from the open door.

Scarlet shifted effortlessly in midair and took her place just behind Gules and Vermillion. It was hardly worth her shifting, though, when the carriage jolted to a stop at the top of a meadow. Two ruby and pale jade pavilions stood proudly, their pennants waving in the early evening breeze, and councilors and nobles waited before them.

The Ruby Throne circled the meadow in a group, then made a tighter circle of the tents to finally drop into the space set up beneath the main pavilion’s awning. They descended one at a time from Carnell to Scarlet—all executing flawless landings and simultaneous shifts back to their other-forms the second their claws touched the ground, clothing themselves as they did so.

They’d left a space for him, and Brick decided he was going to take it properly, instead of scuttling to it, shamefaced. Ignoring his headache and throbbing nose, he ran a few paces and leaped as high as he could with a gurgled “Eaaarrgghhh!” to shift into his wyvern form and, oh, how good it felt to be in the air again, stretching his wings.

He liked the world better in his shifted form. He loved the view from up on high, how things looked when seen from his bigger, more golden than yellow eyes. Scents were more acute to his snout, with its slits for nostrils, than to his other-form nose, which was broad and had never worked as well after being broken during a heated game of tail ball. Which his team had still lost.

Okay, so he wasn’t all polished and gleaming reds like the others, but he liked his scales, with their rust and terra-cotta and ochre shades. Recalling Cerise’s insistence that his hues were “alternative reds” made him snort with laughter and swish his tail, the triangular barb it ended in swinging near his face.

He was going to do this! He dropped lower. I can do this! Can drop into that landing zone! The really small landing zone… I can’t do this.

Believe in yourself!” Cerise had told him over and over since hatchhood. He would. He did! With a high-pitched squeal, a bit like a teakettle coming to the boil, he took a final squint at the target zone, landed, shifted and…belched. Oh gods. He’d meant to clothe himself, not burp one out. And certainly not such a loud one…or one that stank like a dragon’s taint.

“Oh, ewwwwwwww!” cried Scarlet, her longest ever. She pinched her nose closed with her talon-like fingers. She’d get the worst of the stench, being next to him. “How, how, is that so foul? What the fuck you been doing, bro, sucking off a troll?”

“Could have been worse!” called a voice from the crowd. “Just imagine if he’d farted!”

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About the Author

Bailey Bradford

A native Texan, Bailey spends her days spinning stories around in her head, which has contributed to more than one incident of tripping over her own feet. Evenings are reserved for pounding away at the keyboard, as are early morning hours. Sleep? Doesn't happen much. Writing is too much fun, and there are too many characters bouncing about, tapping on Bailey's brain demanding to be let out.

Caffeine and chocolate are permanent fixtures in Bailey's office and are never far from hand at any given time. Removing either of those necessities from Bailey's presence can result in what is known as A Very, Very Scary Bailey and is not advised under any circumstances.

Giveaway

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Bailey Bradford's Wyvern Ways & Elven Magic

ENTER HERE AND GET A FREE EBOOK FROM THE AUTHOR! Notice: This competition ends on 1st June 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.

Audiobook Blog Tour + Giveaway: Cailleadhama by J. Scott Coatsworth

J. Scott Coatsworth and Other Worlds Ink host the audio book blog tour stop for Drew Bacca narrated fantasy, Cailleadhama! Discover more and enter in the giveaway for a chance to win a $20 Amazon Gift Certificate or a signed first edition of the Liminal Sky: Ariadne Cycle Trilogy (USA only)!

Caileadhama Audiobook cover - J. Scott Coatsworth

J. Scott Coatsworth's MM "elf-meets-trans-man in post-climate-change San Francisco" book Cailleadhama is now out in audiobook format. And there's a giveaway!

Colton is a trans man living in a climate-changed world. He plies the canals that used to be city streets, earning a living taking tourists on illicit journeys through San Francisco's flooded edges beneath the imposing bulk of the Wall.

Tris is an elf who comes through the veil to the City by the Bay - the Caille - on a coming of age pilgrimage called the Cailleadhama. He is searching for his brother Laris, who went missing after crossing through the Caille years before.

The two men find they have common cause, and together they set off to find Laris in a world transformed by the twin forces of greed and climate change. And in the end, they find out more than they ever expected, both about the warming world and their own selves.

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Scott is giving away your choice of a $20 Amazon Gift Certificate or a signed first edition of the Liminal Sky: Ariadne Cycle Trilogy (USA only). Enter via Rafflecopter:

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Excerpt

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Audio Excerpt:

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Text Excerpt:

Colton sat at the old, salvaged mirror in his wreck of an apartment, high above the Main Street Canal on San Francisco's drowned waterfront. Not that San Francisco didn’t have its pride. As the Capital of Pacifica, she was still a center of commerce and politics.

But canal rats like Colton didn’t matter much anymore.

The bed behind him, salvaged from another abandoned apartment, was a mess of sheets, a reminder of the trick he'd brought home the night before, someone who'd been paid enough to overlook Colton's shortcomings.

Colton took out a vial of testosterone—his last one, bought at a dear price from the Pharmacist. He pulled out a clean syringe and took off the plastic top, pulling out the stopper to 5 milliliters. He inserted the needle into the bottle, and pushed the air in, an act familiar to him from long practice. Then he pulled out the last of the drug, flicking the syringe twice and pushing out all the air bubbles.

He replaced the needle with a smaller gauge, dumping the larger one into an old caramel corn can he kept for his medical waste.

He used a piece of cotton and a bottle of cheap liquor to wipe down the injection site on his thigh, sterilizing it as best he could. Once it was dry, he took a deep breath, pinching his muscle and pulling his skin to the side. He inserted the needle into his leg, drawing the syringe back a bit to make sure there was no blood. He had to be careful to avoid injecting the hormone directly into his bloodstream.

It hurt a little, but he was used to it.

He dumped the used syringe and the empty vial into the can. He had friends who weren’t so careful to use clean needles, for their hormones or recreational drugs. Some of those friends were now dead, or worse.

Next, he took the medical bandages that he carefully washed every day, and wrapped them around his chest, binding his breasts tightly.

He didn’t look at them. He hated those reminders of his female body—he'd been running from that accident of birth for years.

He wrapped the bandages around himself three or four times, holding in his breath. Once he had his breasts secured, he adjusted them to the side to make his chest as flat as possible.

He looked at the results in the mirror. It would have to do.

He wished he could afford to be re-sequenced. To truly make his body match his gender, to not feel counterfeit in his own form.

Colton glanced out through the broken window. The lights of the City were starting to come on over there as dusk approached. He lived in a no man’s land, the part of the City where the water encroaching from the Bay had reached the old first and second floors. Toward the heart of the City, on the other side of the Wall, the rich still carried on as if nothing had changed.

Those with money called the drowned parts of the city the Canal District. It ran from the old Levis Plaza down to China Basin along the City’s Bay side. There were a number of tony restaurants on the roofs and higher floors of the City behind the Wall that offered views of this supposedly "romantic" neighborhood. For a fee, you could even take a ride through the ruins on a gondola.

That was Colton's “day job”. It brought in enough money to afford food, hormones, and little else, at least, when he was able to pay Mason his overdue boat storage fees.

So at night, he haunted the drowned streets, looking for those he could help, or sometimes relieve of their excess cash.


Author Bio

J. Scott Coatsworth - Avatar

Scott lives with his husband Mark in a yellow bungalow in Sacramento. He was indoctrinated into fantasy and sci fi by his mother at the tender age of nine. He devoured her library, but as he grew up, he wondered where all the people like him were.

He decided that if there weren’t queer characters in his favorite genres, he would remake them to his own ends.

A Rainbow Award winning author, he runs Queer Sci Fi, QueeRomance Ink, and Other Worlds Ink with Mark, sites that celebrate fiction reflecting queer reality, and is a full member of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA).

Author Website: https://www.jscottcoatsworth.com

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

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Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8392709.J_Scott_Coatsworth

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/j-scott-coatsworth/

Author Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com): https://www.limfic.com/mbm-book-author/j-scott-coatsworth/

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/J.-Scott-Coatsworth/e/B011AFO4OQ

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Release Blitz: Brazenly Daray (D’Vaire #22) by Jessamyn Kingley

Author Jessamyn Kingley and Gay Book Promotions return with release blitz for the latest urban fantasy fated mates romance, Brazenly Daray (D’Vaire #22)! Check it out today!

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Brazenly Daray (D’Vaire, Book 22)

Author: Jessamyn Kingley

Publisher: Independently Published

Cover Artist: LJ Anderson, Mayhem Cover Creations

Release Date: March 18, 2021

Genre: M/M Urban Fantasy

Trope:  Fated Mates

Themes: Fate, love

Heat Rating:  3 flames  

Length: 97 844 words

It is not a standalone story.

Check out the series here

Goodreads  |   Amazon US  |   Amazon UK 

 

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |   Amazon UK 

 

For one sentinel, tradition is everything until he meets a pointy-eared photographer who is no elf.


Blurb

Teverild is a man who refuses to allow anyone to call him an elf, despite his pointy ears. Having left his tribe behind centuries ago, Teverild is now a successful photographer. Although his phone contains the numbers of powerful people within the Council of Sorcery and Shifters, and they endeavor to include him in family and other important events, he rebuffs friendship. The concept of mates eludes him, and he doesn’t want that connection either.

As a sentinel, Skeleton Lord Cassius Daray strives for perfection. His purpose is to aid his people, and he works diligently to further the goals of the Sentinel Brotherhood. At home, Cassius enjoys being with his family and throws himself into his hobbies, but there is something missing. What Cassius wants most is to find a mate.

With a penchant for trouble, Teverild winds up on the wrong side of the law. His penance is to teach a group of sentinels the basics of his craft. Teverild wants to get the class over with, but his life changes forever when he meets Cassius. Drawn together immediately, they must overcome their ghosts if they want to forge a future and build a love that will sustain them both.



Excerpt

“Hi, again,” Teverild offered.

“Your class was wonderful; I learned a lot,” Cassius remarked as everyone teleported away.

“Thanks, I don’t even know half of what I said,” Teverild confessed, again surprising himself with his candidness.

“I’m so glad we finally met and that you’re my mate. Did you want to come and meet my family now?”

Teverild didn’t want to disappoint the smiling man in front of him, but his entire being recoiled at the word family. It was nothing personal against Cassius—in fact, Teverild already knew at least one member of his family. Arch Lich Chander Daray had saved Teverild by allowing him to join the Council, and he and Drystan had offered help in countless ways.

It was their attention that had inspired him to ink his skin with images of skulls that most people found macabre. To Teverild, they represented second chances, and he wondered, as he stared into the hopeful face of a man who had once been a skeleton, if Fate had kept him fascinated by such images because of Cassius. While that might’ve been a hopeful or fanciful thought, Teverild was too deeply rooted in grim reality to let it flourish.

“I can’t. I have an appointment to keep,” Teverild lied. Cassius’s crestfallen expression caused words to continue to sputter out. “Some other time maybe.”

“Are you free tomorrow?”

“I’d have to check my calendar,” said Teverild, sneaking in a step toward the door.

“I guess you must be really busy.”

“I prefer to be.”

Cassius’s grinned, making Teverild want to melt at his giant boots. “Which makes it that much more awesome that we finally met. I could kick myself for not going to Elf’s first shift now. We could’ve been together for years.”

It was a bit unsettling to Teverild that Cassius assumed they were simply going to be together because Fate had decreed it—but it also warmed him for some inexplicable reason.

“That was a spectacular day.”

“You took really great photos of Elf.”

“Thanks,” Teverild responded, edging closer to the hallway.

“Where are you going?”

Teverild blinked heavily. “I told you. I have an appointment.”

“I mean, do you have a car or are you using Dérive? I could walk you to the parking garage or to the teleporting station.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“You didn’t answer my question, and I want to,” Cassius argued.

His mind filling with images of being stalked by a cloaked assassin, Teverild wondered how in the world he was supposed to get out of this mess he’d stumbled into. “I can walk on my own. It’s no big deal.”

The big shoulders slumped again, and Teverild acknowledged that he was already learning how easy it was to disappoint his mate.

“Okay, if that’s what you want, then I won’t keep pestering you. Can I text you later?”

“Sure…if you want.”

“Can I ask you one last question before you go?”

Teverild had a hand on the door, and he was somehow unsurprised that his attempt at an easy escape hadn’t succeeded. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Are you interested in trying to be mates, or would you prefer it if I didn’t bother you again?”

 

About the Author

 

Jessamyn Kingley lives in Nevada where she begs the men in her head to tell her their amazing stories which she dutifully writes it all down in what has become a small mountain of notebooks. She falls in love with each couple and swears whatever book she wrote last is her absolute favorite.

Jessamyn is married and working toward remembering to start the dishwasher without being distracted by the scent of the magical detergent. For personal enjoyment, she aids in cat rescue while slashing and gashing her way through mobs in various MMORPGs. Caffeine is her very best friend and is only cast aside briefly for the sin better known as BBQ potato chips.

Visit her website 

Join her Facebook group, Jessamyn's Ruffian's

 

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