Release Blitz + Giveaway: Triple Intent (Village Affairs #3) by Kristian Parker

 

Triple Intent by Kristian Parker

Book 3 in the Village Affairs series

General Release Date: 25th October 2022

Word Count: 50,237
Book Length: NOVEL
Pages: 230

GENRES:

BILLIONAIRE
CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
GAY
GLBTQI
MÉNAGE AND MULTIPLE PARTNERS
MULTICULTURAL

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Book Description

When a billionaire and his assistant bring change to the village, Michael has to adapt…

The future’s uncertain for Michael Fleming. He came to the sleepy Yorkshire village of Napthwaite a year ago as Thorpe Hall’s gardener, but now the Hall’s been sold…to billionaire hotelier Darryl Burlington.

When self-made Darryl and his handsome French assistant, François Vernier, come to set up the new property acquisition, they plan to find a willing third party to share their bed. Darryl and François aren’t together, but they like to celebrate success. But instead of indulging themselves in a treat after their hard work, they trigger events which no one could have foreseen.

This chain reaction Darryl, François and Michael leads to big changes in Napthwaite—and in all three men’s lives…

Reader advisory: This book contains instances of homophobia, and the deaths of a character and an animal.

Excerpt

Even in December, the Greek sunlight streamed through a chink in the curtains, painting the bed in heat. François Vernier stretched out in the Egyptian cotton sheets and tried to ignore the dull thud of a hangover playing in his brain. They had started the party early, yet it felt like he’d only just put his head down.

A very disorientated Darryl Burlington emerged from under the duvet with a lop-sided grin. “Merry Christmas, François.”

The nausea came rapidly, and François had to lay his head on the pillow again. “Joyeux Noel.”

Darryl plumped his pillows and sat up. “What a night, eh?”

François nodded. “I need coffee. You want?”

Not waiting for a reply, he got out of bed and padded over to the kitchen area of the vast suite Darryl had taken where he made himself busy grinding some beans. The view down to the Ionian Sea took his breath away and once the machine bubbled into life, he took it all in.

Kefalonia was a small island on the west coast of Greece. François had been to many other Greek islands but never this one. He couldn’t wait to return in the summer when it would be warm enough to dive into those blue waters. François prided himself on always being a participant and hated being a spectator.

Ever impatient, he waited until just enough coffee for two cups had brewed. Filling them, he ignored the hissing sound of more dripping onto the hot plate.

He went through to the bedroom. Darryl hadn’t moved. As fresh as a daisy, he grinned at him. Darryl believed hangovers were for the weak. François didn’t dare glance in the mirror that covered half a wall. But Darryl had insisted on partying into the night so he would have to take him as he found him.

“What are we doing today?” Darryl asked.

François handed him his cup and opened the curtains a little. He didn’t care if anyone saw him naked. It would give them an early Christmas treat. He’d been turning heads since he’d been in his pram. His mother told him that when she’d pushed him through town, people would stop and speak to him. If they were lucky, he would reward them with a smile. Some days he wouldn’t.

He blew on his coffee and took a sip. The hangover had become a little more insistent, and he regretted making quite so many plans for today. “George said he would take us out on the boat. Everywhere is closed, so I thought a picnic somewhere lovely then back here for dinner.”

Darryl nodded.

François went over to his bag that lay on the chair. He rummaged inside and retrieved the gift he had kept secret. “Merry Christmas.”

He handed it to a surprised Darryl. “I thought we weren’t doing gifts. I haven’t got you anything.”

François shrugged and ignored the feeling in his heart. Darryl ripped off the paper and revealed the monogrammed leather notebook from Aspinal.

“Oh, François. I love it. Thank you.”

Darryl reached out his hand for François. He sat down on the bed, and they hugged each other awkwardly.

“Ah you’re awake. I thought you two were going to sleep all of Christmas Day.”

François spun round to see Ezio, the Greek barman they had picked up the night before. He stood in the doorway wearing just a towel. His thick curly hair dripped water onto his furry chest, the inviting glint in his eye that had first prompted Darryl to send François over with their indecent proposal still very much in place.

“François?” Darryl said, licking his lips. “Tell George not to bother with the boat. I think we should stay at home today.”

He pulled the duvet aside, letting the notebook fall to the floor. François glanced momentarily at the gift lying there before putting on his game face.

“Yes, boss. Sounds good to me.”

Ezio dropped the towel, revealing the delights they had enjoyed all night long. François’ cock twitched. Darryl probably had a point. A day on the high seas would only make him seasick. He walked over and kissed Ezio.

“That’s right, boys,” Darryl said. He put his hands behind his head, licking his lips. “Give me a Christmas show.”

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About the Author

Kristian Parker

I have written for as long as I could write. In fact, before, when I would dictate to my auntie. I love to read, and I love to create worlds and characters.

I live in the English countryside. When I’m not writing, I like to get out there and think through the next scenario I’m going to throw my characters into.

Inspiration can be found anywhere, on a train, in a restaurant or in an office. I am always in search of the next character to find love in one of my stories. In a world of apps and online dating, it is important to remember love can be found when you least expect it.

Follow Kristian on Facebook.

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Finding Him (The Retreat #3) by L.M. Somerton

Author L.M. Somerton and Pride Publishing share new release info on Finding Him (The Retreat #3)! Read more about the latest in the series and enter in the First Romance giveaway!

 

Finding Him by LM Somerton

General Release Date: 1st March 2022

General Release Date: 1st March 2022

Word Count: 59,668
Book Length: NOVEL
Pages: 230

Genres:

BONDAGE AND BDSM
CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
GAY
GLBTQI

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Book Description

Sometimes, using a safe word gets you exactly what you want.

Canadian Zac Denman is young, rich and submissive. He’s also a kidnap risk who’s grown up in the shadow of bodyguards and security precautions. All he wants is to work out what kind of submissive he is in a safe environment and thanks to his very understanding father, he’s getting the chance to do exactly that. The Retreat in England is safe, discreet and willing to provide a selection of Doms for Zac to play with—a great way of discovering what he is, and isn’t, into.

Dale Gastrell is a friend of The Retreat’s owner, a member of The Underground BDSM club and a soldier turned landscape gardener thanks to an inconvenient bullet. Two weeks providing covert protection to a wealthy client who won’t even know he’s there seems like a perfect break from city life.

But life is never simple, and when Dale and Zac are thrown together, Dale has to fight his attraction. Zac is from a whole different world of wealth and privilege. He’s not for the likes of Dale who has to watch as Doms arrive at The Retreat to give Zac a taste of submission.

Excerpt

Carey Hoffman stepped out of the air-conditioned limousine into the burning heat of a Palm Springs summer’s day. The air shimmered, and he half-expected to see a mirage in the distance along with a camel train and a bunch of wandering nomads. The sun’s intensity made the greenery around him all the more astounding. Extensive, manicured lawns stretched to either side of the sweeping drive and in front of him stood the biggest, most palatial house he’d ever seen. He could only imagine how much watering all that lush grass would need.

“It’s enormous.” Pure white, the sun reflecting off the building’s curved walls was blinding. Carey slipped on his sunglasses to reduce the combined glare of the sun and the paintwork. He couldn’t decide whether he liked the property or not. There was no doubt that it was extravagant and no question it was unique. “Probably designed by some celebrity architect for an extortionate fee,” Carey muttered. “It must be worth a small fortune.”

“I kind of like the smooth lines, it’s all curves, no harsh edges.” Alistair, Carey’s partner and submissive, joined him, slipping his hand into Carey’s. “It doesn’t come across as ostentatious as the McMansions you see in California. It’s understated, restrained somehow.”

“That’s your artistic eye at work, love. There’s way too much white for my liking. What’s wrong with a bit of color? Or at the very least a shade of white that isn’t…misty cloud or curdled milk or something. There are whole pages of so-called whites on paint charts, though they mostly look the same to me.”

Alistair gave him a gentle smile. “The heat’s getting to you, isn’t it, Sir?”

“How do people around here not combust? This place is like a furnace—I feel like I’m desiccating just standing here. What I wouldn’t give for a dose of London drizzle right now and that’s not something I ever thought I’d say.”

“We’re English. Our bodies are not equipped for more than two hot days a year—and by hot, I mean low eighties, not high nineties. Everything here seems to be air-conditioned to the point of frigidity, and I’m sure the house will be, too, once we get inside. You’ll be much happier then.”

“It’s entirely your fault we’re here, you know that? Now you’re a famous photographer, everyone wants a piece of you. Even multimillionaires. A personal invite from Taylor Denman is not to be sniffed at.” Carey gave Alistair a kiss to demonstrate his pride. “I’m so proud of you love, even if I am being fried alive.”

“Do you wish I’d turned down the invitation?” Alistair gazed at him anxiously. “I would have if you’d asked me to.”

“Absolutely not! Ignore me, sweetheart. The heat’s making me fractious. I’m very glad you accepted the invitation and I’m intrigued to meet Mr. Denman since he sponsored your exhibition in San Francisco. It was an enormous success. I’ve never seen so many sold stickers at a show before and it wouldn’t surprise me if he bought some of the pictures himself. You worked really hard to get everything set up, the launch was wonderful but exhausting. Mr. Denman’s offer to spend a few days at one of his hotels was a perfect way to end our trip so you could hardly turn down an invitation to meet him in person. It’s a small price to pay for an all-expenses paid stay in the best hotel in Palm Springs.”

They walked toward the house, glittering quartz gravel crunching beneath their shoes.

“I have to confess I’m a little nervous.” Alistair gripped Carey’s hand tighter.

“There’s no need to be. I’m here and I’ll take care of you.”

“You always do.” Alistair smiled, and Carey’s breath hitched. Alistair was beautiful, the sun glinting on his blond hair, his skin showing a hint of tan from several weeks in the sun.

“And I always will.” There was no doubt about that in Carey’s mind. Taking care of Alistair was the single most fulfilling part of his existence.

As they approached the huge front door of the property, it swung open. Carey expected to see a butler or maybe a personal assistant, but it was Taylor Denman himself who stood waiting for them. Carey recognized him from pictures he’d seen in the press. Taylor was casually dressed in jeans and a light blue shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal tanned arms and the curl of a tattoo. He was a striking man, about Carey’s age, his chestnut hair starting to silver at the temples. A trace of stubble shaded his jaw, and there were laughter lines around his eyes.

“Welcome, gentlemen. I’m so glad you were able to make the trip from San Francisco.” Taylor stepped forward with a welcoming smile.

“Thank you for inviting us, Mr. Denman,” Alistair said. “We’re so happy to meet you.”

“Call me Taylor. You’re Alistair of course, I know you from your catalog picture, so this must be Carey.” He shook hands with Carey first, then with Alistair. “Come inside, it’s hotter than the surface of the fucking sun out here, excuse my language.”

Alistair giggled. “You and Carey are going to get along really well.”

“I thought it was only us rain-soaked Brits who couldn’t handle it,” Carey said, following Taylor into the icy-cool interior of his home. “I’m melting.”

“I was born in Canada. Alberta. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the heat, but my business interests make having a home here convenient. I keep an apartment in New York but I thought you’d appreciate a few days here in Palm Springs after the bustle of San Francisco. It’s a lot more relaxing than The Big Apple.”

“We certainly appreciate it,” Carey said, gazing around the entrance hall. “It’s rare that we get to spend a few days alone together, and the exhibition was a little frantic. Thanks to you it drew a lot of attention.” He was impressed by the cool colors and sleek minimalist design. The area managed to be welcoming even though the cathedral-like ceiling height could have made it intimidating.

His eye was drawn to a wall displaying a single large picture. Carey smiled. It was one of Alistair's photographs, blown up to huge proportions. The original was one of Carey’s favorites. It showed a vast, ancient oak, standing alone in a rural landscape at twilight, its gnarled limbs outlined against the sky. A silhouette of a fox was just visible at its base. Ironically, it hadn’t taken hours of patient waiting for an animal to appear. He and Alistair had driven out to the Chiltern hills one afternoon and had been taking a stroll after an early dinner at a nearby restaurant. Alistair, his photographer’s instinct always active, had lifted his camera and taken the snap after spotting movement. He hadn’t even known it was a fox until he’d looked at the digital image. It had been pure luck that the picture had come out so well. It had sold at a London gallery, but the buyer had remained anonymous.

Alistair edged a little closer to Carey’s side, blushing. “Now you know what happened to the picture,” Carey said with a chuckle.

“I was curious,” Alistair admitted. “Anonymous buyers are intriguing.

“The original is in my study,” Taylor said. “I had this print made specifically for this space, and you have no idea how many compliments it draws. I’m loath to praise your work in public, Alistair because it never fails to increase competition for the pictures I want to buy. I’m a covetous man—I want the best for myself.”

“I’m so flattered. The picture certainly suits this space. I’m glad it went to someone who appreciates it.”

“Well, I’ve added several more to my collection thanks to the San Francisco exhibition. Shameless self-interest got me involved and as sponsor I got first pick, which caused huge annoyance to several acquaintances. An added bonus, I admit.” He grinned, mischief glittering in his eyes. “But I have to confess that it’s not the reason I’ve invited you both here. I’m afraid I have been somewhat dishonest. Of course, I sponsored the exhibition for absolutely genuine reasons, but over the last year things have come to light that I think you may be able to help me with. A personal matter.”

“You have my attention,” Carey said. “Does this have something to do with Alistair’s photography skills?”

“No. Actually, Carey, it’s you that I think can help. Let’s go sit in the sun room. I have light snacks set out in there, and cold drinks. We can relax and you can hear me out.”

Carey exchanged a curious glance with Alastair who shrugged, apparently unconcerned by the mystery. They both followed Taylor through the house pausing to admire the pictures and sculptures that were displayed everywhere.

The sun room proved to be constructed entirely of glass but managed to remain ice-cold. Several comfortable loungers surrounded a low glass table and there was a magnificent view of the sweeping grounds. Carey guessed that the hint of glittering water in the distance must be a pool.

They settled into their seats, Carey and Alistair next to each other, Taylor opposite them. Taylor offered them a selection of drinks. Alistair opted for chilled mango juice while Carey accepted a light beer, mirroring Taylor’s choice. On the table sat several platters of cold finger food, which was tempting but Carey wanted to hear what Taylor had to say before switching his attention to snacks.

“How do I start?” Taylor leaned forward, steepling his fingers.

“I find it’s always best to be direct,” Carey said.

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About the Author

L.M. Somerton

Lucinda lives in a small village in the English countryside, surrounded by rolling hills, cows and sheep. She started writing to fill time between jobs and is now firmly and unashamedly addicted.

She loves the English weather, especially the rain, and adores a thunderstorm. She loves good food, warm company and a crackling fire. She's fascinated by the psychology of relationships, especially between men, and her stories contain some subtle (and some not so subtle) leanings towards BDSM.

You can follow Lucinda on Facebook, Twitter and her Website.

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: To Catch a Fallen Leaf (Rossingley #2) by Fearne Hill

To Catch a Fallen Leaf (Rossingley #2) is out from NineStar Press! See today's release blitz from author Fearne Hill and IndiGo Marketing! Learn more about the opposites attract romance and enter in the NSP credit giveaway!

Title: To Catch a Fallen Leaf

Series: Rossingley, Book Two

Author: Fearne Hill

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 09/13/2021

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 78100

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, contemporary, gay, British, aristocracy, fashion model/celebrity, gardeners/gardening, ex-con, family drama, humorous, opposites attract, rich man/poor man, wedding

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Description

Take one shy French gardener, mix in a naughty aristocrat, add a splash of water, a dash of sunshine, and wait for love to grow.

If only it were that easy.

Reuben Costaud counts his blessings daily. His run-in with crime is firmly behind him. He has a wonderful job gardening on the Rossingley estate, a tiny cottage all to himself, an orphaned cat named Obélix, and a friendly bunch of workmates. The last thing he needs is a tall, blond aristocrat strolling across the manicured lawns towards him.

Falling in love is not part of his plan.

Viscount Aloysius Frederick Lloyd Duchamps-Avery, Freddie to his friends, is in big trouble with everyone, from his father and his modelling agency, to his controlling older boyfriend. Seeking solace and refuge, he escapes to Rossingley and his adored cousin Lucien, the sixteenth earl. To take his mind off his woes, Lucien finds him a job with the estate gardening team.

Mutual attraction blossoms amongst the gardening tools, and Freddie charms his way through Reuben’s defences. But as spring turns to summer and Freddie’s London life collides with their Rossingley idyll, Reuben’s trust in him is ruptured. Will their love flourish or is it destined for the compost bin?

To Catch a Fallen Leaf is a full-length MM contemporary romance, the second in the Rossingley trilogy.

Excerpt

To Catch a Fallen Leaf
Fearne Hill © 2021
All Rights Reserved

“Oh, baby doll, for goodness’ sake! Please, please, please. Could we ensure this be the last time I have to put up with all of your ridiculousness?”

Disappointment is the inevitable result of a mismatch between expectation and reality. Vincent expects me to never get drunk, never embarrass him in public, and never, ever, ever vomit over his shoes outside a smart London restaurant.

The reality, of course, is that I’m a twenty-five-year-old male model. I like booze, I like to occasionally snort coke, I say stupid things in front of people I shouldn’t, and sometimes, all of those combined, lead to unexpected chundering episodes outside smart London restaurants. So, I can’t be blamed if Vincent chooses to put his burgundy Lobb penny loafers in the path of the contents of my stomach.

I am fully cognisant of the reasons Vincent endures these occasional mishaps. Being a minor member of the aristocracy helps. In addition, my father, a well-known and respected politician, is perfectly placed to further Vincent’s own eventual political ambitions. But, most importantly, Vincent is a sucker for eye-catching arm candy. I’m not the first pretty piece of fluff he’s moved into his Belgravia apartment, but I’ve stayed the longest. While I’m definitely pretty, I also have financial independence and a first-class degree from Cambridge. Thus, he finds my company tolerable.

What’s in it for me is more complex. Despite occasional debauched one-night forgettables when I’m working abroad—to which Vincent turns a blind eye—I’m a sucker for a steady relationship. Unless I’m travelling for work, I prefer waking up in the same familiar bed each morning. I enjoy the finer things in life, such as sharing good food in decent restaurants and trips to the theatre with an educated partner.

My adorable cousin, Lucien, believes my predilection for older men comes from a deep-seated desire to be cared for, seeing as Father left that responsibility entirely to my boarding school after Mother died. According to his theory, my monogamous tendencies are an unconscious rebellion against Father’s complete lack of fidelity towards my mother. He’s probably right on both accounts, explaining how I muster a coquettish smile as I watch forty-something Vincent, in his pristine white Y-fronts and sock garters, select a double-breasted Hawes & Curtis suit from his walk-in wardrobe. Even though the zipping of his fly and the clack of one wooden coat hanger against another is enough to make my head reel and my guts threaten a repeat performance.

Rolling over in bed, I clamp a goose down pillow over my head in an attempt to shut out the morning sunlight.

“Sorry about last night, Vincent,” I mumble from underneath the pillow. “I possibly overcooked things a little. The end of a busy week, I guess, and I probably didn’t eat enough dinner with my wine. I’m not sure I ate at all yesterday, now I think about it—it was a long photo shoot.”

There’s a slithery sound as he selects a tie. Time stands still; I wish he’d bloody get on with it and clear off, so I can retch over the loo in peace.

“Yes. Well, whatever, baby doll. I have to dash; I’m chairing a meeting of investors at nine, and I can’t have that derailed by your foolish antics.”

He looms over me, all expensive sandalwood and minty freshness. In a bespoke suit, which hides the paunchy bit around his middle, Vincent is a good-looking guy. He still has a full head of dark hair; any flecks of grey only serve to accentuate his air of suave sophistication. Despite himself, he smiles as he pecks my cheek.

“You are going to be the death of me, young man,” he murmurs. “Try to stay out of trouble. Drink plenty of fluids and take an aspirin. You can make it up to me tonight.”

I recall that it’s Tuesday and manage to stifle my groan at least until the front door slams. Oh joy. Deep, deep joy. To say we have a regimented sex life would be affording the military a degree of precision they can only dream of emulating. On Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, at the stroke of twenty-two hundred hours, Vincent switches on the BBC News and swallows down 50 mg of Viagra with a small glass of San Pellegrino (one cube of ice). He doesn’t know that I know about the Viagra. The gravitas of the opening theme tune is my cue to go and “freshen up, baby doll,” which is Vincent doublespeak for reacquainting my arse with the nozzle of the shower hose. I am then expected to drape myself seductively across our enormous bed in the master suite, with a fresh towel under me, and await his presence.

I used to like my sex spontaneous and messy. I still do. Because, occasionally, smelly, sweaty, imprecise, surprising, and even disappointing sex can unexpectedly turn into joyous, forgiving, funny, and tender sex. Not loving sex. I haven’t experienced that yet, although I remain optimistic. I’ll take all of the above over predictable any day. And—not to put too fine a point on it—I quite like topping. Turn and turnabout is okay if the mood takes me, but really? Always bottoming? Not so much. Some guys love it; for some of my friends it’s a race to the bottom, but I’m prepared to share the love around. Unfortunately, Vincent’s arse only opens once a day, around 6:45 a.m., as part of his shit, shower, shave routine. After that, it’s locked tight as an oyster shell, whereas I’m expected to roll over and take it, and take it, and bloody take it. I usually manage to reach orgasm (ejaculating carefully onto the towel, naturally), but only because I’m young, horny, and excellent at conjuring up visions of myself ploughing into some raven-haired, faceless beauty, while Vincent happily labours above me.

The thing is, I could put up with being called baby doll. I could put up with the bad sex. I could even put up with being told what to wear and when to wear it. But there is one thing that really sticks in my craw: My boyfriend’s close friendship with my father. Around once a month, they share lunch at my father’s club, when I imagine, along with plotting world domination and very visible, showy acts of philanthropy, they enumerate my varied shortcomings, sighing wistfully at each other: “If only Aloysius could… If only he would…” etcetera, etcetera. (My real name is Aloysius; thank God, my second name is Frederick.) And then, after a manly handshake, they part ways; my father returns to pontificating in the House of Commons, and Vincent returns to whatever he does in that enormous office of his in Mayfair.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Fearne Hill lives deep in the southern British countryside with three untamed sons, varying numbers of hens, a few tortoises, and a beautiful cocker spaniel. When she is not overseeing her small menagerie, she enjoys writing contemporary romantic fiction. And when she is not doing either of those things, she works as an anesthesiologist.

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Salvation (Darkest Skies #3) by Garrett Leigh

Author Garrett Leigh and Signal Boost Promotions host a release blitz for the latest in the popular series, Salvation (Darkest Skies #3)! Find out more and enter in the giveaway today!

 

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Cover Design: Black Jazz Design

Darkest Skies Series 

Book #1 Redemption - Buy Links

Book #2 Deliverance - Buy Links

Reformed gang boss Dante Pope is out after a four-year stretch in prison. But freedom has found him faster than he’s ready for. His only brother hates him, and with nothing but PTSD and a newfound fascination with plants for company, the outside world is a terrifying place.

A prisoner rehabilitation scheme lands him at a stately home that might as well be the moon. Working for gorgeous gardener Sid is a welcome distraction—his shoulders are broad, his rugged jaw unshaven, and his long, tanned legs?

Wow.

But Sid has problems of his own. A life-changing disease has left him limited in ways he can’t bear and accepting help, even from a stranger, makes him want to curl up and die.

If Dante would let him.

Newsflash: he won’t, and he’s not a stranger for long. With his dark smile and sinister ink, Dante Pope is the most beautiful man Sid has ever seen. Life is hard, but falling for each other is easy.

Sunshine and shadows.

Old ghosts can haunt Dante all they like. Loving Sid is the only salvation he’ll ever need.

Salvation is a sweetly angsty standalone MM romance novel in the Darkest Skies series. Expect: second chances, forced proximity, friends-to-lovers, and buckets of hurt/comfort themed loveliness. Content warnings for childhood trauma, violence, and chronic illness.

Garrett Leigh is an award-winning British writer and book designer.

Garrett's debut novel, Slide, won Best Bisexual Debut at the 2014 Rainbow Book Awards, and her polyamorous novel, Misfits was a finalist in the 2016 LAMBDA awards.

When not writing, Garrett can generally be found procrastinating on Twitter, cooking up a storm, or sitting on her behind doing as little as possible, all the while shouting at her menagerie of children and animals and attempting to tame her unruly and wonderful FOX.

Garrett is also an award winning cover artist, taking the silver medal at the Benjamin Franklin Book Awards in 2016. She designs for various publishing houses and independent authors at blackjazzdesign.com, and co-owns the specialist stock site moonstockphotography.com with renowned LGBTQA+ photographer Dan Burgess.

Website: http://www.garrettleigh.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/garrettleighauthor/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Garrett_Leigh

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Cover Reveal + Giveaway: The Good Green Earth (Colors Of Love #3) by V.L. Locey

Join V.L. Locey and Signal Boost Promotions as they reveal the cover for upcoming romance, The Good Green Earth (Colors Of Love #3)! Learn more about the September release and enter in the back list eBook from the author!

ADD TO GOODREADS

Release Date: September 18 2019



Cover Design: Designs By Sloan



Length: 75,000 words approx.



Colors Of Love Series



Book #1 - Lost In Indigo - Amazon US | Amazon UK

Book #2 - Touch Of A Yellow Sun - Amazon US | Amazon UK

Blurb

After the Syracuse Stallions clinch the championship, Nathan Zinkan, the renowned wild man of the AHL is arrested for a DUI. Again. When a no-nonsense judge adds a heavy dose of community service to an already stiff sentence, Nathan has to forget a summer of partying and slide on a pair of gardening gloves. His entire future now rides on how well he can behave while helping elderly urban gardeners tend to their tomatoes.



Watching local garden center owner Bran Cavanaugh working without his shirt is a benefit he wasn’t expecting. Pity Bran is also the one in charge of the community garden as well as keeping tabs on Nathan’s hours served. The two men are instantly at odds due to Nathan’s rebellious nature and Bran’s icy demeanor. Yet there’s no denying the attraction that begins to build between the hot-headed athlete and the cool as a cucumber master gardener.



Will their attraction grow into something deeper, or will it wither and die on the vine?

USA Today Bestselling Author V.L. Locey – Penning LGBT hockey romance that skates into sinful pleasures.



V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, walking, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, Torchwood and Dr. Who, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order.) She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a pair of geese, far too many chickens, and two steers.



When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in one hand and a steamy romance novel in the other.

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Flowers For The Gardener by Sharon Maria Bidwell

Flowers For The Gardener by Sharon Maria Bidwell is officially out from JMS Books! Celebrate with the author and Signal Boost Promotions today! Enter in the giveaway at the author's website! (link below)

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Length: 70,000 words approx.

Cover Design:

Publisher: JMS Books

Blurb

A warm-hearted rich man's son, Richard Gardener needs to overcome three obstacles: find a way the family business can run without him, help his mother cope with grief, and stop butting heads -- and other parts of his anatomy -- with the gardener.


Ethan Fields has worked for the Gardener family for many years. He’s struggling with debt and the desire to leave, and has loved Richard far longer than the man would believe. Ethan can cope with most things, but his anger with Richard’s mother won’t fade. Until that and his feelings for Richard are resolved, he feels trapped and, alas, the idea that sex will get Richard out of his system isn’t working.


To make the situation worse, both men assume too much and don’t say the right words, and Ethan’s offer of ‘just sex’ grows more complicated by the day. Can Richard and Ethan stop getting their wires crossed before their paths diverge?

Excerpt

Sounds of splashing made Ethan glance over his shoulder, witness to Richard's ineffectual efforts to clean his hands. While the teakettle worked away making a noise in the corner, Ethan tore off a few sheets from a roll of blue paper, tougher than the type intended for kitchen use, and handed over the wad.


"Wipe yourself with this first and pull back those sleeves. I'll change this."


He took the dish of now dirty liquid and tossed it out. By the time he walked back, the pot -- always so-called by his father -- started the little familiar jig before clicking off. Time they got a new one but no point asking for these things. No one up at the house would pay for them while those who worked on the estate could 'make do'. Ethan must wait until the appliance blew up or died. He made busy pouring out cold and hot water before handing over a small screwdriver.


"You might wanna dig out some soil if the brush don't get rid of it all." Not to say a little dirt on Richard Gardener wouldn't be an improvement.


Much improved by the view of things. Those grey-green eyes were brighter than Ethan recalled. The boy now a man and broader in the shoulders, and ... a quick glance to make certain and, yes, Richard filled out his trousers well. A number of people might find it strange Ethan noted Richard's eyes before giving his body and crotch a once-over-many people believed a person's eyes a female preference -- but a bright gaze always attracted Ethan.


He set to making tea, including one for Richard, though he didn't bother asking if his boss wanted any. The man needed brains more than tea. Damn fool to come out without a jacket in this weather, which ... fine, so had Ethan, but he worked, built up a sweat, and he didn't react to winter's bite like the rich boy, more used to it. The reason Ethan gave Richard warm water was owing to how red his fingers were; so, too, his cheeks. Digging into the soil with bare hands ... the idiot was a walking invitation for frostbite.


"Sugar? Or are you sweet enough?"


Well, damn. Richard flushed. Ethan tried to hide his amusement, unable to tell whether he succeeded. "You can sweeten it as you like, or not." He put the mug near the other man who eyed it, gaze narrowed, lips pursed under a lowered brow. No doubt he suspected to find it laced with weed killer. Didn't take it, but he was preoccupied, still cleaning his nails. Be no surprise, though, if the tea went untouched. All because Richard didn't trust him. Might be worth his while to do something about the dislike.


"Remember last time you stood here?"


Richard became a statue, revealing he recalled, all right. So many emotions flittered over his face. Back then, the little Lord of the Manor washed more than his hands. The memory flashed vibrant, the clear sky on a chill afternoon transformed into the blistering heat of high summer by his father's fury. Regardless of age, Ethan's dad had dragged both of them in, one to clean up and one to wait until the other left, intending to give Ethan a hiding, or so Ethan had believed. Turned out his old man didn't have it in him to hit his son, though the margin was narrow. Understandable, with his father afraid of losing his job and livelihood.


The promise -- never to touch Richard again -- Ethan kept, for the most part because of a lack of opportunity.


Last time when Richard stood in this hut, the boy wiped blood and mud off his face before running back to the house. This time, Ethan planned not to let Richard escape.


Author Bio



A writer from the UK, Sharon doesn’t get out much these days. She’s too busy creating vibrant worlds and characters to share with others. She writes fiction both light and dark in various genres. She has been approached on occasion to write articles such as reports and publicity material, though her focus will always be story-telling. She loves writing, reading, movies, the theatre, her garden, and seeing other parts of the world, but not the hassle of travelling. Wherever she happens to hang her hat, she lives primarily in a world of her own.

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Review: Whitecott Manor by Emma Jane

Alistair Ellis is the proud gardener for beautiful fifteenth-century Whitecott Manor, in England's West Country. His life changes forever following a gas explosion at the manor, in which his boss—and love of his life—dies. However, his boss hasn't exactly gone for good and Alistair still finds himself involved in conversations with the deceased.

Circumstances improve when he meets Noah, the handsome dog groomer for the manor's new owners. Although there are some issues: Noah is already engaged and Alistair suffers from cynophobia—an acute fear of dogs!

This story has a quirky British flavour that I love. with a manor house, a ghost and dogs, quite frankly, what's not to love? Ammiright?

This story really was a joy to read. Alistair, the gardener of Whitecott Manor is gutted when his boss - and lover - is killed in a gas explosion... until he realises that Emmett (and that name, my British friends of a certain age, has to be heard only in Hyacinth Bucket's voice!) is still hanging around, seen only by Alistair. Despite him being a ghost and only a secondary character I really liked Emmett and his mother-henning of Alistair. Especially when he refuses to go when Alistair bonks his nephew in a bid to matchmake Alistair with someone better (Noah). I have to admit a small part of me wanted this to end up being an Alistair/Emmett love story. The other part of me though was more than happy with  the Noah relationship because Noah is lovely. He loved dogs, 'nuff said. Goodhearted, he was far too good for his wanker of a boyfriend and I'm glad he met Alistair. 

Written with a wit that I appreciated, and a cast of characters to love and hate, this book was great and I'm really looking forward to more by this author!

And just for those Brits of a certain age...

A copy of this book was given in exchange for an honest review.