Showing posts with label class difference. Show all posts
Showing posts with label class difference. Show all posts

Series Tour + Giveaway: Love at Lake Clyde Series by Aiden Ainslie

Author Aiden Ainslie and Gay Book Promotions promote the new contemporary series, Love at Lake Clyde series! Find out more about Books #1-2, King of the Mountain and Master of the Wild! Don't miss the $10 Amazon gift card giveaway! 

 

SERIES TOUR - LOVE AT LAKE CLYDE

BOOK DETAILS

LOVE AT LAKE CLYDE, BOOK 1 

Book Title: King of the Mountain

Author and Publisher: Aiden Ainslie

Cover Artist: Reese Dante

Length: 106 000 words/ 386 pages

Release Date: July 11, 2021

Genre:  Contemporary M/M Romance

Tropes: Gay awakening; rich sports star meets poor student

Themes: Coming out; competitive cycling; overcoming adversity; perseverance; HEA

Heat Rating for the series: 3 - 4 flames

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

The books are standalone but the reader would benefit from reading them in sequence to fully appreciate the setting and supporting characters of Clydesdale, a fictitious town in the California Sierra mountains.

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

Blurb 

American cycling sensation and heartthrob Clifford Du Frey is riding the wave of success. Brand Du Frey is a multi-million-dollar business, and during the Tour de France, Clifford is mobbed by fans wherever he goes. The superstar must focus on winning the Tour de France and maintaining his fan base.
But Clifford has a secret. He has fallen hard for Gabe O’Reilly – the dreamy art student from San Francisco whom he met on a summer’s day in Paris.
Can Clifford and Gabe’s budding relationship withstand the media storm and other forces arraigned against them? Can the grit and determination that propelled Clifford to the top of his sport help him break out to find true love and happiness?

You will root for Clifford and Gabe as they take you on a steaming hot ride through France and all the way back to their native California.

LOVE AT LAKE CLYDE, BOOK 2

Book Title: Master of the Wild

Author and Publisher: Aiden Ainslie

Cover Artist: Reese Dante

Length: 88 500 words/ 364 pages

Release Date: January 27, 2022

Genre: Contemporary MM  Romance 

Tropes: Opposites attract; roommates to lovers; protect your bruised heart by never falling in love again; rich guy poor guy; proving oneself in a strange environment

Themes: Fairy tales; clash of city and country; wilderness challenge; meddling townsfolk; HEA.

Heat Rating for the series: 3 - 4 flames

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

The books are standalone but the reader would benefit from reading them in sequence to fully appreciate the setting and supporting characters of Clydesdale, a fictitious town in the California Sierra mountains.

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

Blurb 

IT whiz, Conner O’Reilly, moves from London to California to lick his wounds and recover after the break-up of a bad relationship. He is determined to find a job and start a new life. The last thing he needs is another romantic entanglement.
But Conner hasn’t bargained on meeting Ewan Driscoll. Wild, tattooed, gorgeous, messed-up Ewan, who has more baggage than a freight train.

Will Conner be sensible and get his life back on track, or will his heart lead him into the wilderness?

Excerpt from “King of the Mountain”

GABE

Cliff stood in the shallows. His pale skin gave him the quality of a Michelangelo marble statue. His body had magnificent, classical proportions. Every muscle was clearly defined as though chiseled in stone and smoothed to perfection under the loving hand of a master sculptor. I wondered if he realized just how beautiful he was. And I still found it hard to believe that he was giving me the gift of his time.

He watched me as I strode toward him and, when I shook the water out of my hair, he warned, “Don’t you dare splash me. I like to get in slowly.”

“I won’t splash you,” I said as I stopped in front of him. His eyes were unbelievable. The aquamarine of the water reflected off his blue eyes. I had the sensation of looking into a kaleidoscope of colors yet to be invented. I placed my hands on his shoulders and kissed him on both cheeks.

He was startled but did not back away. “What was that for?” he asked.

“We have not had a chance to greet each other yet – the French way. The way you taught me. And,” I continued, “to say I’m sorry.” 

I gave him my sweetest smile.

“Sorry for wha….”

He did not get to finish the sentence because I folded one leg behind him and, in the most basic of wrestling moves, tipped him backward into the water.”

The look on his face was priceless, and I burst out laughing when his head emerged, spluttering and cursing.

He reached out a hand and said, “You can at least help me up.”

I took hold of his hand and found myself yanked off my feet with Cliff dunking my head underwater. I shook myself free and rose from the waves to see Cliff making a run for the beach. I lurched after him, tackled him, and dragged him back into the water. He laughed and spluttered till he gained his footing and rounded on me, grabbing my waist. His hands stroked over my hip bones, and I started laughing. He had inadvertently found my weak spot, the most ticklish part of my body. Cliff was not one to let such an advantage pass him by. He held me tight with one arm curved around my chest while his free hand tickled my hip bone without mercy. I giggled and squirmed helplessly in his arms.

We horsed around in the water like a couple of drunken teenagers. Drunk on sunshine, drunk on life, drunk on L…   I did not dare to complete the thought. Who was I to think a man like Clifford du Frey would fall in love with me? For all I knew, he was straight as straight can be. Sports stars let off steam by horsing around with their teammates. And after the grueling days on the road, he sure needed some fun to relax and unwind. 

I reminded myself that a man could bathe in the warmth of the sun, but that did not mean the sun cared about the man’s existence. He was an international celebrity, a superstar. As unattainable as the sun itself. And we all knew what happened to those who flew too close to the sun.

After a few more minutes of splashing and laughing, I got his glistening body in a half nelson and made him concede that I was a superior wrestler.

Cliff stood bent-over, panting. I beat my chest like Tarzan and hollered at the waves, “I, Neptune, King of the Sea, have conquered the one and only King of the Mountain.”

He smiled his most disdainful smile, came to stand right in front of me, and said, “Just wait till I get you up into the mountains.”

“What are you going to do?” I teased, “Drag me into your castle and tie me up?”

His nostrils flared, and his face showed such a mixture of emotions that I was at a loss to interpret them.

“For starters,” he said, “I’ll whip your ass….”

I caught my breath. 

He continued, “…at skiing.”

He drew himself up to his full height, which meant I was looking directly at his lips and the stubble on his chin. I ached to reach out and feel that roughness. I did not just want to feel it with my hands; I wanted to feel it on my neck, my chest, on every square inch of my body. He parted his lips, and I imagined the sweet, salty taste they would leave on my tongue. 

My throat was suddenly dry. I licked my lips and looked up at the eyes that were waiting to bore into mine. Our chests were only separated by a minuscule air gap and two thin layers of water that were rapidly evaporating under our bodies' heat. I stood motionless; my heart was pounding so loudly that I was sure Cliff could hear it. I had the sensation of my chest hair vibrating to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

About the Author

Aiden Ainslie lives in the Diablo foothills, east of San Francisco. When he is not writing or listening to audiobooks, he likes to cycle and hike. During those solitary pursuits, he dreams up the characters and plots for his MM Romance novels.

Aiden and his family have two dogs that keep him busy and he also enjoys zipping around town on his motor scooter, drinking coffee at the local coffee shops, and watching people to get inspiration for his writing.

According to Aiden, "Setting and mood are critical parts of a romantic story, hence I am always taking pictures of romantic settings to be used in future novels".

Author Links

Blog/Website  |  Facebook

Newsletter sign-up  |  BookBub

Giveaway

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

a $10 Amazon Gift Card

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

Audio Tour + Giveaway: Night of the Blood Red Moon by Patricia Logan


Author Patricia Logan and Gay Book Promotions share upcoming John Solo narrated audio book release, Night of the Blood Red Moon! Read more about the paranormal romance and enter in the giveaway to win your own eBook copy!

AUDIOBOOK TOUR

Book Title: Night of the Blood Red Moon

Author: Patricia Logan

Narrator: John Solo

Publisher: Westburg Publishing Inc (self-published)

Cover Artist: Alexandria Corza

Genre: Contemporary MM paranormal (werewolf) romance

Tropes: Fated mates, Old-fashioned britches ripper

Themes: Forced marriage

Heat Rating:  3 - 4 flames

Length: 67 500 words/ 350 printed pages

It is a standalone story, but as the series develops, an underlying, multiple-story arc will emerge.

The book does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads 

Author's Audiobook Links

Audible US  |  Audible UK

Available in Kindle Unlimited and Paperback

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK  

Amazon CA  |   Amazon AU   

An old-fashioned britches ripper with a tooth and claw twist.

Blurb

An old-fashioned britches ripper with a tooth and claw twist.

Being the prince of all werewolves sucks. 

Almost ten years ago, I did my duty and married a female even though I was desperately in love with an older man. When she died giving birth to a child who could never take the throne, I ran. I left home, shirking my responsibilities, knowing eventually they’d catch up to me. Well, they have. My father now insists I marry a female half my age so I can father a proper heir and secure our rule over the First House for several more generations. 

Being chosen to serve the king is a dream come true. 

Even though I grew up poor, I worked hard to support my mother. When my mentor chose me to travel to America with the king, I was unbelievably honored to meet his son, the future ruler of all werewolves. I didn’t know how to react when I first laid eyes on Prince Caster, but he cast a spell over me with a single glance, and my life changed forever. I was not only looking at my future king, but the man made just for me. The moment his lips met mine, I knew this story would end horribly…in either heartache or death.  

Denying destiny is a terrible idea. 

As desperately as I want to ignore my attraction to the common brown wolf, I cannot. The moment I saw the warm glow of his amber eyes, the need to take him into my arms and drag him off to my bed was overwhelming. Alas, I have a duty to perform, and it doesn’t involve the man Mother Nature made only for me. 

This story won’t end well…I just know it.

Night of the Blood Red Moon is a gay romance with an HEA ending. 

About the Author

International bestselling author Patricia Logan, resides in Los Angeles, California. The author of several #1 bestselling romances in English, Italian, French, and Spanish lives in a small house with a large family. When she’s not writing her next thriller romance, she’s watching her grandchildren grow up way too soon, and raising kids who make her proud every day. One of her favorite tasks is coaxing nose kisses from cats who insist on flopping on her keyboard while she types. Married to a wonderful man for 35 years, she counts herself lucky to be surrounded by people who love her and give her stories to tell every day.

Pick up your favorite Patricia Logan Book from Amazon

Check out her Audio titles at Audible.com 

Email her at patricialogan.author@yahoo.com. She loves to hear from readers more than anything and will respond to all emails.

Social Media Links

Blog/Website  |  Facebook

Instagram  |  Newsletter Sign-up

Giveaway 

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win 

one of four ebooks copies of Night of the Blood Red Moon.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

Release Blitz + Giveaway: Night of the Blood Red Moon (Prosper Woods Wolves #1) by Patricia Logan

 Author Patricia Logan and Gay Book Promotions share new release info for Night of the Blood Red Moon (Prosper Woods Wolves #1)! Read more about the series and enter in the eBook giveaway!

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Night of the Blood Red Moon

Author: Patricia Logan

Publisher: Westburg Publishing Inc (self-published)

Cover Artist: Alexandria Corza

Release Date: February 25, 2022

Genre: Contemporary MM paranormal (werewolf) romance

Tropes: Fated mates, Old-fashioned britches ripper

Themes: Forced marriage

Heat Rating:   3 - 4 flames

Length: 67 500 words/ 350 printed pages

It is a standalone story, but as the series develops, an underlying, multiple-story arc will emerge.

The book does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads 

 

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK  

Amazon CA  |   Amazon AU   

 

An old-fashioned britches ripper with a tooth and claw twist.

Blurb

An old-fashioned britches ripper with a tooth and claw twist.

Being the prince of all werewolves sucks. 

Almost ten years ago, I did my duty and married a female even though I was desperately in love with an older man. When she died giving birth to a child who could never take the throne, I ran. I left home, shirking my responsibilities, knowing eventually they’d catch up to me. Well, they have. My father now insists I marry a female half my age so I can father a proper heir and secure our rule over the First House for several more generations. 

Being chosen to serve the king is a dream come true. 

Even though I grew up poor, I worked hard to support my mother. When my mentor chose me to travel to America with the king, I was unbelievably honored to meet his son, the future ruler of all werewolves. I didn’t know how to react when I first laid eyes on Prince Caster, but he cast a spell over me with a single glance, and my life changed forever. I was not only looking at my future king, but the man made just for me. The moment his lips met mine, I knew this story would end horribly…in either heartache or death.  

Denying destiny is a terrible idea. 

As desperately as I want to ignore my attraction to the common brown wolf, I cannot. The moment I saw the warm glow of his amber eyes, the need to take him into my arms and drag him off to my bed was overwhelming. Alas, I have a duty to perform, and it doesn’t involve the man Mother Nature made only for me. 

This story won’t end well…I just know it.

Night of the Blood Red Moon is a gay romance with an HEA ending. 

Excerpt

I was a complete and utter fool. The moment Lady Penelope stepped out of her limousine wearing three-thousand-dollar shoes, carrying a matching purse, I knew my mating with Prince Caster was doomed. She looked breathtaking standing beside the car with her mother at her side. She looked up at the prince who stood beside his father on the porch watching as her father walked down the steps to greet his wife and daughter. The smile which spread across her luscious cherry-red lips made her whole face light up. She practically shimmered.

I’d never seen a more beautiful creature in my life.

The diamonds around her neck, around her wrists, and on her fingers were no match for the sparkle in her bright blue eyes. They were framed with black lashes, a much darker shade than the light blonde of her hair which was twined in a ribboned braid and piled on top of her head. When she smiled at her father who bent to kiss her rosy cheeks, the whole world seemed to light up. Much worse than all of this were the thoughts that I heard in her head.

“In person, he’s so much more handsome than the portrait he sent. Oh…look at him. My mate is the most regal and kind man on earth. How could I be so lucky to have been blessed by such a wonderful soul. I hope he loves me. I already love him.”

Her unspoken words made the tatters of my heart sink. She wasn’t horrible at all. She was a lovestruck girl, and I’d never felt so lost in my entire life.

“Emory, get control of your thoughts. If I can hear them, others will. You’re slipping,” Claudio whispered beside me. We stood on the semi-circular driveway in front of the inn with most of the other servants who were ordered to stop whatever they were doing to come and witness the arrival of the future queen of werewolves. I glanced over at him, noting how handsome my best friend looked, standing up straight and tall with everyone else.

All in all, there had to be fifty servants standing at attention on either side of the crescent driveway. We looked good, well-groomed, and dressed in our best uniforms of black pants, long-sleeved white shirts, and black vests. Some of the senior staff wore suit coats. Claudio and I didn’t. It wasn’t required. The females wore their hair pulled up and the males’ shoes were all buffed to a high polish.

“You’re right. Sorry.” I nodded to my best friend, and then turned back, knowing by the frown on Claudio’s face, how miserable my expression had to be as we watched this farce playing out on the driveway. Only hours before, I’d woken in my lover’s arms, and he was now leaning down to take Lady Penelope’s delicate hands in his and buss both of her cheeks. I felt a sob rising in my throat and choked it back, relieved when Claudio’s hand slipped into mine and squeezed my fingers.

Tears burned behind my eyes as I watched Caster straighten and smile at Penelope before offering her his elbow. She blushed prettily and took the offered elbow with both small hands. As he waited for her to turn, he lifted his head and stared right past her much shorter form. When his ice blue gaze met mine, I felt a pang of longing run through me. As our gazes met, I thought I recognized a similar look in his eyes but just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, replaced with the dark glare he now wore. I trembled in Claudio’s hold, and he crushed my fingers in his hand just as Caster dragged his gaze from mine and turned away, leading his bride into the house.

“Breathe, Emory. It’s over,” Claudio whispered.

I gasped, suddenly feeling so lightheaded, I thought for sure I’d faint. I looked over at him and recognized the pitying expression he wore on his face. I nodded.

“I’m fine. I’m…good.” My lower lip trembled, and my eyes filled with tears, belying my words.

About the Author

International bestselling author Patricia Logan, resides in Los Angeles, California. The author of several #1 bestselling romances in English, Italian, French, and Spanish lives in a small house with a large family. When she’s not writing her next thriller romance, she’s watching her grandchildren grow up way too soon, and raising kids who make her proud every day. One of her favorite tasks is coaxing nose kisses from cats who insist on flopping on her keyboard while she types. Married to a wonderful man for 35 years, she counts herself lucky to be surrounded by people who love her and give her stories to tell every day.

Pick up your favorite Patricia Logan Book from Amazon

Check out her Audio titles at Audible.com 

Email her at patricialogan.author@yahoo.com. She loves to hear from readers more than anything and will respond to all emails.

Social Media Links

Blog/Website  |  Facebook

Instagram  |  Newsletter Sign-up

Giveaway 

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win 

one of four ebooks copies of Night of the Blood Red Moon.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

AUDIOBOOK COMING SOON...

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

Release Blitz + Giveaway: Turnabout by Laury A. Egan

Welcome author Laury A. Egan and IndiGo Marketing as they promote historical coming of age romance, Turnabout! Read more and enter in the NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: Turnabout

Author: Laury A. Egan

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 11/30/2021

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 78500

Genre: Historical (20th Century), LGBTQIA+, teenage romance, lesbian, lesbian love, sailing, PTSD, Vietnam War, 1960s, first love, mother-daughter relationships, young writers, class differences, New Jersey, coming-of-age

Add to Goodreads


Description

The summer of 1964. Four teenage lives intertwine as each searches for love, identity, and a passage through painful family conflicts, social isolation, and the confusion of sexual orientation.

During a sailing class, four teenagers meet.

Jessie Schaffer is fourteen, an intelligent and solitary girl, who dreams of becoming a writer. When she sees nineteen-year-old Lindsay Ames, the instructor, standing on a dock, sunlight illuminating her blond hair and blue eyes, Jessie falls in love but is too afraid of her feelings and what they mean.

In an attempt to reassure herself she is “normal,” Jessie becomes involved with two boys in the class: Kenny Crenshaw, also fourteen, a darkly handsome and flirtatious guy, and Calvin Brayburn, a year younger, who will be in their freshman class because he’s academically brilliant.

On the first day of sailing, Cal is smitten with Jessie, though he is hindered by shyness. As the romantic relationships take unexpected twists, Jessie, Lindsay, Calvin, and Kenny relate their individual stories, their hopes, fears, and longings, all the while being buffeted by intense pressures.

Set in coastal New Jersey, the plot roams from its beautiful rivers to lush scenes in St. Thomas and Vietnam’s jungles during the war.

Excerpt

Turnabout
Laury A. Egan © 2021
All Rights Reserved

Jessie
“I’m not going!” I state this as a firm fact; my mother hears acquiescence.

“And wear your new clam diggers and that boat-neck shirt I bought you.”

“No! I feel like an idiot in those clothes!”

My mother, who dresses perfectly for every occasion, arches an eyebrow, one that took hours to sculpt. “You are attending sailing class, and I want you to look nice. We will hear no more about it, Jessie.”

When the singular “I” migrates into the royal “we,” my goose is cooked.

“I will see you in the car. Ten minutes,” she says.

After she leaves the room, I go to the closet, slip the fake nautical clothes off hangers, and throw them on the bed where I slump beside them. “I’ll look like a fool,” I mutter as I stare at the blue-and-white-striped shirt and the white clam diggers decorated with red piping and baby sailboats. I shut my eyes in frustration and follow imperial orders.

«

I’m standing by the entrance to the Lenape Sailing and Yacht Club, hoping my mother will reconsider and take me home. I turn to plead with her, but she’s already backing the big black T-Bird out of the drive, its whitewalls spitting sand four feet past its chugging tailpipe. For a minute, I picture the car getting stuck but no luck. It’s me who’s stuck.

I scan the sky and beach. The morning sun has taken a hike, leaving a mash of clouds in its wake. The breeze sucks the tops off the cattails and raises goosebumps on my arms and the whitecaps on the river. With no real alternative, I walk through the clubhouse’s double doors, wishing I could fly out the other side, shoot off the dock, and do a Superman back home.

Inside, it smells like salt air, tired sun, and dried old wood. About ten kids—probably my class—are milling around looking self-conscious. Even though they appear nervous, my years of experience tell me they’ll do just fine, once the preliminary jitters smooth off, while I will not. Oh, sure, I can pick up the sailing stuff, but the rest? I stand by the window, thinking I don’t like groups because groups don’t like me.

“Hi.”

I turn. A boy with thick glasses is staring at me with a curious expression. His hazel eyes, magnified by the lenses, appear intelligent. He has small cuppy ears, an epidemic of brown freckles across his face and arms, and bright-red hair cut in straight bangs and parted unevenly on the left side of his square head. The boy is a little hunched, as if he’s already apologizing for future tallness. Despite his neat green shirt and navy cotton shorts, he doesn’t wear his body comfortably. The kid looks as ill at ease as I feel.

“Hi,” I reply, though I’m lukewarm in interest. I look over the group, hoping there is someone better to hitch up with. Most of the kids are about my age. Next week, on July 5, I’m turning fourteen.

“My name’s Calvin Brayburn.”

Calvin seems younger. Perhaps twelve nudging thirteen and oblivious to the huge barrier a year’s difference makes.

“Mine’s Jessie.”

“Jessie what?” He tilts his head and squints a little, as if his poor eyesight dulls his hearing.

“Jessie Schaffer.” I’m not a chatty type, particularly with strangers, which includes just about everyone I’ve ever met. How can I lose this kid? Should I play it high and mighty or chilly-neutral? Then, the teacher enters from a side room, saving me the decision.

“Hello, everyone. I’m Lindsay Ames, your sailing instructor.”

Lindsay is tall, or at least she is from my five-foot-four perspective. Short blond curly hair. Blue eyes. Long arms and legs already tan from being outside. Can’t tell if she is a senior going to be a freshman or a freshman home from college. Probably four or five years older than I am. I breathe easier. I’m more comfortable around adults.

Lindsay hands out mimeographed papers. “The parts of a sailboat and two pages of nautical knots,” she explains. “Don’t worry—we’ll go over them, but you’ll have to memorize the parts and how to tie a bowline and a cleat hitch by next week.”

One of the girls giggles and nudges her neighbor. I don’t see anything funny about knots, but maybe that’s because I’ve already taught myself a few—Dad said this would be expected.

“It’s too windy to go out today,” Lindsay continues, “so we’ll get acquainted and learn some of the basics.”

She takes a seat in a wooden armchair, and everyone sprawls onto couches and chairs around her as if she’s going to tell us a story. I sit on the floor opposite and stare at the blue Keds’ stamps on the back of my white sneakers.

“Let’s go around the room.” She nods to a girl with a ponytail. “What’s your name?”

When the kid smiles, silver braces glint like chrome on a Chrysler grille. “Melinda Whitmore,” Ponytail replies. “Hi!” She jerks her hand in the air and gives half a wave. She’s growing boobs that overwhelmed her training bra a long while ago.

“Hi, Melinda,” Lindsay replies. “Welcome aboard.”

I’m not positive I like this sailor heartiness, but so far, Lindsay seems okay. She then points to a guy with black, wavy hair and dark Romeo eyes.

“Hey,” he says in a false sheepish tone. “I’m Kenny Crenshaw.”

Melinda and the other girls exchange blushing glances. Kenny is instantly crowned “king” without any contest. I’m no slouch at rating pecking orders in social gatherings. Of course, none of the girls look at me for confirmation, a fact I also file away in my mental account ledger.

As if he senses his royal anointment, Kenny squares up his shoulders and drops his voice. “I already know how to sail,” he explains. “My dad has a boat.”

“Oh? What kind?” Lindsay asks.

Kenny Crenshaw smiles, confidence spreading across his face. “It’s a thirty-two-foot O’Day.”

“Nice boat,” the instructor says, smiling. “So, you must be quite accomplished.”

He stares at his feet and shrugs, as if he’s embarrassed. In that moment, my dislike of him rushes in like a squall.

“Yes, I am,” he answers. “Sort of.”

The “sort of” is another attempt to appear modest, though it doesn’t wash with me. His smug perfection stings like a pissed-off wasp. We’ll see who the better sailor is. I don’t have a clue why I’m feeling so competitive.

Melinda’s friends are Janey and Gretchen. The three of them are jump-rope types. That’s how I used to classify the popular girls in elementary school. I never mastered their games—skipping rope or their other activity—flirting—and still nourish a fine disdain for both. Sure, back then, the girls let me play sometimes, so I wasn’t on the outer orbit of Pluto, but I wasn’t really accepted, which is typical of the flip-flop nature of my life. Graduation from eighth grade didn’t improve my standing with boys either, and neither did the spring dance, a perfect ten on the misery scale. My mother tortured me into going solo and wearing an itchy chiffon dress and patent leather shoes that pinched. I was the weed amid the wallflowers and didn’t dance once. I’m glad we just moved to Bingham, where I’ll attend high school and hopefully make some friends.

There are four more students who introduce themselves: Steve, Cathy, Mary Lou, and Gene. The girls all cross their arms over their chests, protecting their budding growths, and the boys look careless and bored, like they’d just as soon be throwing rocks at beach rats. Everyone is sort of average looking compared to Kenny and Melinda, who, despite her dental work and giggles, has drawn the longest glances from the boys. Calvin is saving me from last place on the unpopularity register. When it’s my turn to say hello, I’m tempted to tell everyone my father has a sixty-nine-foot sailboat, just to see how it goes down. But one of my rules is that I only lie when I’m sure no one will catch on. Because I don’t know who makes boats that size, the last thing I want is King Kenny announcing there is no such thing. So, after giving my name, I clam up, ceding round one to him. At least Lindsay gives me a warm smile, but she smiles at all the kids.

After that, we go outside and investigate a Turnabout, a little ten-foot catboat we’re using for our lessons. Lindsay gives us the port/starboard/stern/bow info, shows us how to tell which way the wind is blowing by the little pink ribbon fluttering near the top of the mast, and demonstrates how to attach and hoist the single sail. The whole time she does this, my new friend Calvin sticks to my side tighter than a tick. Whenever I look at him, he grins like we’re already buddies. Melinda and Kenny aren’t listening to Lindsay because they’re whispering and digging elbows into each other.

Two hours later, when my mother arrives, I announce I don’t want to take sailing lessons anymore. She doesn’t listen.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Laury A. Egan is the author of the YA novel, The Outcast Oracle; three suspense novels, Jenny Kidd, A Bittersweet Tale, and The Ungodly Hour; a comedy, Fabulous! An Opera Buffa; a collection, Fog and Other Stories; and a literary work, The Swimmer. Four limited-edition poetry volumes have been published: Snow, Shadows, a Stranger; Beneath the Lion’s Paw; The Sea & Beyond; and Presence & Absence. She lives on the northern coast of New Jersey where she sailed Turnabouts during her teenage years.

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Captivated (The Verge #2) by A.C. Thomas

Author A.C. Thomas and IndiGo Marketing share details on new science fiction romance release, Captivated (The Verge #2)! Find out more about the latest in the series and enter in the $10 NineStar Press credit giveaway!


Title: Captivated

Series: The Verge, Book Two

Author: A.C. Thomas

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 04/26/2021

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 73400

Genre: Science Fiction, LGBTQIA+, sci-fi, gay, nerd/linguist, space pirate, space travel/road trip, abduction/captive, twins, interracial, class difference, tattoos, body mods, humorous, opposites attract, outrageous flirting, sexual banter, undergarments, ribbon play

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Description

Dr. Theophrastus Campbell leads a comfortable life, along with his twin brother, buried in academia. His unique gift for obscure languages goes unnoticed as he teaches University students to conjugate Latin. Everything in his world is just as it should be; restrained, understated, boring. He would give anything to break away. In all his daydreams of adventure, Theo never expected it to arrive in the form of an outrageously attractive Outlier covered in intriguing tattoos. And Theo never thought the price he might pay for adventure would be his own freedom.

Captain Park Jun-Seo leads a dangerous life, running a Crew of misfits through Restricted space as he desperately searches for the key to completing his parents’ work. Work that could mean the difference between life and death for countless others. In all of his frantic searching, Jun never expected to find the key in the form of a beautiful professor with more brilliance than good sense. And he never thought the price he might pay for knowledge would be his own heart.

Stoic Jun and irrepressible Theo must work together to break the code before their time is up. Falling into bed together is effortless, but their growing connection wasn’t in the plan. Theo charms his way beneath Jun’s skin with every nonsensical move he makes. Jun must decide if he can make room in his harsh, goal-driven life for the unpredictable force of love. Theo begins their journey as a lighthearted adventure—until he cracks Jun’s tough facade to reveal the hero within. Theo must decide if he can risk his battered heart when Jun is risking everything.

In the lawless depths of space, can two captive hearts set each other free?

Excerpt

Captivated
A.C. Thomas © 2021
All Rights Reserved
Chapter One

Ding. Ding. Donk.

Theo held his index finger up at the uneven chime of the ancient bell over the door—yet another harried university student bustling into his office after hours. It was practically midnight, hardly the time to ask for an extension.

Honestly, students were the worst part of teaching. Theo didn’t know why he had taken the TA position in the first place.

Okay, yes, he did. But, to be fair, Professor Gladwell looked amazing in his spectacles and fitted waistcoats, and who could blame Theo for going a little glassy-eyed whenever they had private meetings?

Well, Professor Gladwell’s wife, for one, probably.

Theo finished his note and dropped his pen into the onyx holder on his desk, preparing to give the student his full attention.

Some of his attention.

Whatever was left over while Theo drifted off on thoughts of the strain Professor Gladwell’s buttons were under on a daily basis as they tried to contain all that athleticism. Those poor, poor buttons.

He lifted his head with the bored expectation of finding another skinny, pasty academic struggling to hold armfuls of paper with desperation written all over their ink-smudged face.

In other words, someone like Theo.

This person was holding a sheaf of papers, and there the resemblance ended to every expectation Theo had.

Perhaps it was time to expand his expectations.

“I’m looking for Dr. Campbell.” The stranger’s voice curled around Theo’s ears like smoke.

Theo smiled up at him, admiring the way the lamplight glinted off of his black hair and deep bronze skin. Stars, but he was a handsome specimen.

With a flip of his hair back over his shoulder, Theo marked his place in his notebook by closing a finger in the pages. “Well, you’re certainly in the right place for it! Though I suppose that depends on which Dr. Campbell you are looking for. There are three of us in my immediate family alone. Although, Campbell isn’t a terribly uncommon name, so there could easily be many more Dr. Campbells than I’m entirely unaware of.”

The stranger looked like he very much regretted initiating this conversation. Theo was, unfortunately, familiar with the expression being directed his way.

The stranger shook his head slightly, as though Theo’s chatter were water in his ears. Something else Theo was extremely familiar with.

He leaned in slightly, casting a wide shadow across Theo’s cluttered desk when his bulk blocked out the light beside the door. “Dr. Campbell. Where is he?”

Theo traced the impressive line of the stranger’s shoulders underneath his unusual many-layered black leather coat before offering his free hand to shake. “I am Dr. Campbell. Pleased to meet you! My brother is also Dr. Campbell, and my father is Dr. Campbell as well, though they would be less pleased to meet you. Nothing against you, personally, they just aren’t terribly fond of interacting with strangers. Or people in general, to be honest. Sometimes I think they can barely tolerate me!”

The stranger winced as if he could relate to the sentiment and quietly responded, “Dr. Campbell has been described as a thin male with green eyes, red hair, and pale skin.”

His deep voice sank into Theo’s bones like the pleasant rumble of a hovercoach over cobblestones.

Dark, hooded eyes skipped over Theo as his visitor described each feature, as though checking off a list in his head, ignoring Theo’s offered hand.

Theo dropped it to the desk with a shrug; the slight couldn’t hamper his enjoyment of this diversion from his research. “I’m afraid that doesn’t narrow it down even the slightest bit. My brother and I are identical twins, and we definitely favor our father, to the eternal dismay of our poor mother. My dismay as well, to be honest. It would have been ever so nice to have her chestnut hair rather than this glaring beacon I’ve got atop my head. I tend to stick out like a redheaded thumb.”

The stranger sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, square jaw held tight as his broad shoulders rose and fell in a long, measured sigh.

Theo felt like sighing himself at the sight. The man really was uncommonly beautiful.

He could happily watch those shoulders move for hours. He even had some suggestions regarding the nature of the movement.

His attention was brought to the desk when the stranger slapped a battered manuscript on top of his notebook—an older heatbound copy, of all things. The stranger’s fingers were marked with ink, tattooed on the metacarpals between each knuckle with Hangul letters in beautiful calligraphy. Theo had never seen the like.

The stranger put pressure on the hand he held splayed across the document, pinching the finger Theo had left inside his notebook. He yanked it out hastily as the stranger growled at him. “This Dr. Campbell.”

Absently shaking his pinched finger, Theo scanned the manuscript. The simulated parchment was stained and rumpled. It appeared to have been dog-eared at the corners over and over again, and the pages bristled with assorted tabs. All signs of a book well loved.

He tried to read the cover page, lifting the stranger’s long fingers distractedly with his thumb and forefinger until he was hit by a jolt of recognition, filled to the brim with unexpected delight. “Wherever did you get this? I wrote this years ago during my graduate studies! I’m honestly surprised that anyone outside my thesis committee has even read it. It’s such an obscure topic, after all. I had the most terrible time just—”

The stranger’s palm slammed back down on top of the document, missing Theo’s hand by a hair. “You are this Dr. Campbell?”

It appeared as though he already knew the answer and was dreading it as he squinted dubiously in Theo’s direction. There was a slight tremble in the man’s fingers as they pressed hard against the sheaf of papers.

The stranger’s eyes remained shadowed by his strong brow, but his gaze washed over Theo—a wave of heat, laser-focused and far more intense than the conversation warranted.

A frisson of caution tried to nip at Theo’s mind, sounding an awful lot like his brother hissing in his ear about good sense. He shook it off the way he usually did and leaned his chin on his hand to peer up at the stranger through his lashes. “Why, yes, I am. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

The stranger lifted the manuscript, his fingers unmistakably trembling as he flipped through pages with a dry rustle of sim-parchment. He held the document open to a passage of translation Theo had featured in his study of long-dead languages and shook it rather rudely in his face. “This. You can read this?”

Theo launched into a recitation of the passage, finishing with a flourishing roll of the tongue. It was rare to find a fellow enthusiast on the topic, particularly one so pleasing to the eye. The stranger seemed unusually passionate about the subject, his breath quickening audibly as Theo rattled off the words of a people long gone.

Theo cocked his head to the side and reached for his pen as he opened his notebook. “If you have an interest in the topic, I keep one of my sources here in my office. Just there, on that shelf.” He gestured off to the side where his cluttered bookcase leaned heavily against the wall for much-needed support. “It’s titled An Annotated Glossary of Dead Languages by Dr. Fernsby.”

The stranger folded his sheaf of papers into his coat and walked to the bookcase in two decisive strides. Theo took the opportunity to study him further, pen hovering above his open notebook.

Quickly skipping past a few dozen sketches of Professor Gladwell standing at his lectern, he found an empty page.

As the stranger turned to face the bookcase, Theo caught a glimpse of black ink trailing up his neck to frame his sharp jawline in an odd geometric pattern of thin parallel lines intersected with tiny circles. He attempted to sketch the tattoos onto his paper.

Even more ink snaked out of the cuffs of his coat, wrapping around his wrists and stamping all the way down to his fingers with that lovely calligraphy scribed across his knuckles. Theo wrote down the characters and translated them to Core Standard in the margins.

Honor on one hand and Valor on the other. Fascinating.

Closer examination revealed a design of clustered hexagonal shapes running up the wrist of his left hand. Theo had just begun to sketch them when the stranger turned back toward him, book clutched in his fist.

Theo had never seen anyone remotely resembling the man; nothing about him said “Core,” from his sprawling ink to the look in his eye. He gave the impression of someone midway over a rickety rope bridge, unsure of every step but determined to get across.

Theo couldn’t help but find his appearance a little bit dangerous as he took in his severely handsome face framed by unevenly shaved black hair, all of it underscored by the dramatic sweep of his coat.

The impression was cemented when the man tucked the book away inside his coat and pulled his hand back out with a ray gun pointed in Theo’s direction.

Theo’s pen dropped a blot of ink onto his notebook as the man stepped closer.

The stranger’s eyes were so dark his pupils disappeared into the black of his iris. His unrelenting stare sent shivers down Theo’s spine that could not be attributed entirely to fear. “Come with me. Now.”

Theo chewed on his lip for a moment, considering, and then he turned the page of his notebook to jot down a short list of words.

When Theo’s attention fell to his notebook, the man repeated himself at an increased volume. His vowels were clipped, initial consonants rounded, almost like a citizen of the Core world Goryeo but significantly sharper. His words had a cutting edge to them Theo had never heard before.

A heavy boot kicked Theo’s desk, and the man’s handsome face twisted in anger. Theo glanced down at the chunks of mud littering his carpet.

“Your accent is absolutely fascinating. I need you to repeat these words back to me, if you please.”

Pen poised to take down the man’s answers, Theo rattled off his list of words expectantly.

The stranger’s scowl slid from his face, his eyes widening in Theo’s direction in the manner people often did when he caught them off guard.

It seemed to happen fairly frequently.

“I have a gun,” the man said, returning to his original volume if not his original vehemence.

Theo sighed, scribbling on his pad with a shake of his head that had his hair falling in his face. “No, no, that doesn’t help at all; that would take me ages to decipher. Repeat the list, if you please.”

The stranger gestured with his ray gun, raising it level with Theo’s head. His fingers had finally stopped trembling.

“I have. A gun.”

Theo used his pen to shove the tapered barrel of it away from his face in irritation. “No, you mustn’t obscure your lips that way. I need to see the movements. Now, the list, if you please.”

The stranger’s face did something decidedly odd and incredibly diverting where his features couldn’t seem to decide what direction they wanted to go, so they never went anywhere at all.

To Theo’s absolute delight, he actually repeated the first three words on the list before giving his head an emphatic shake, gesturing with the gun once more. “I don’t think you understand. This is an abduction, Dr. Campbell. You’re coming with me.”

Theo didn’t turn away from his notebook, busily adding to his notes. He sketched out the pattern the man had shaved into his close-cropped hair on the right side: three intersecting triangles. Theo directed his answer to his notebook, pen flying across the page. “Or else you intend to shoot me, I suppose, is meant to be the implication with the gun?”

A large muscle began ticking in the stranger’s clenched jaw.

“Yes,” he gritted out between even, white teeth.

Theo beamed at him, tucking his hair behind his ear with an excited wriggle. “How thrilling! Just give me a moment to jot off a quick letter for my brother, and we can be off. I must say, this coincides nicely with the due date for that stack of term papers I’ve been putting off marking. Well done, you.”

The stranger gave the aforementioned stack of papers a baffled glance as Theo turned to another page to leave a short note for his twin brother, Ari.

He was bound to be perturbed if Theo did not make it home in time for tea tomorrow after all.

Ari didn’t like it when Theo diverged from their schedule, which was a constant source of conflict as Theo was appallingly bad at keeping to a schedule. The dear thing spent most of their lives nudging Theo back on track—

“Enough.”

The dark snarl of the stranger’s voice, crackling in the space between them like a bolt of lightning, startled Theo into dropping his pen.

The stranger tugged up a hood of soft gray material attached to his black leather coat, casting his face in shadow. He reached across Theo’s desk, plucked him from his seat one-handed, and lifted him effortlessly across his desk, scattering clutter all over the floor.

One muscular arm curled around Theo’s midsection, holding his back tightly against the man’s firm chest.

Theo ran his hands over the corded muscle of the man’s tense forearm with an appreciative hum as they started to move across the floor.

He was quite tall indeed for Theo’s coltish legs to dangle midair. It made Theo want to turn and wrap those legs around his waist. It was evident he’d have no trouble supporting Theo’s weight.

Altogether, an absolutely delicious thought. And here Theo had thought he was in for yet another lonely, boring Thursday night.

The stranger considered the door for a moment, then reached out with his gun hand to yank at the figured brass handle, prompting Theo into action.

“Oh, I almost forgot!”

He stomped down on his captor’s boot, showering the carpet with another layer of caked-on mud and debris. The arm across his stomach tightened uncomfortably as the man hissed through his teeth.

The ray gun prodded Theo’s side menacingly, but he just turned his head with an apologetic smile. “So sorry about that; I assure you it was quite necessary!”

With a noise reminiscent of a lion with a thorn in its paw, the stranger carried Theo out the door and into the cold night air.

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Meet the Author

A.C. Thomas left the glamorous world of teaching preschool for the even more glamorous world of staying home with her toddler. Between the diaper changes and tea parties, she escapes into fantastical worlds, reading every romance available and even writing a few herself. She devours books of every flavor—science fiction, historical, fantasy—but always with a touch of romance because she believes there is nothing more fantastical than the transformative power of love.

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Audiobook Review: Bitter Heat (Heat of Love #3) by Leta Blake

A pregnant omega trapped in a desperate situation, an unattached alpha with a lot to prove, and an unexpected fall into love that could save them both.

Kerry Monkburn is contracted to a violent alpha in prison for brutal crimes. Now pregnant with the alpha’s child, he lives high in the mountains, far above the city that once lured him in with promises of a better life. Enduring bitterness and fear, Kerry flirts with putting an end to his life of darkness, but fate intervenes.

Janus Heelies has made mistakes in the past. In an effort to redeem himself, integrity has become the watchword for his future. Training as a nurse under the only doctor willing to take him on, Janus is resolute in his intentions: he will live cleanly in the mountains and avoid all inappropriate affairs. But he doesn’t anticipate the pull that Kerry exercises on his heart and mind.

As the question of Kerry’s future health and safety comes to an explosive head, only the intervention of fate will see these desperate men through to a happy ending.


SRAL ABO binge continues! Full force!

I've literally devoured this series and bought the audio books to listen along while reading them from my personal stash. Why? Michael Ferriauolo is a narration genius. He's just so good *cough*try the audio Caged series by Bey Deckard*cough* But I digress.

I'm a fan of Leta Blake's Heat of Love series (yes, you must read in order). The lengths are on the long size with each main book at 100+K a piece, but I tell you I breezed through with minimal skipping. Don't let the size intimidate you. I have loved each main romantic couple (or throuple) in their own way. Book #3- Bitter Heat was no different.

First off, the pairing? Didn't see that a mile a way. Two damaged souls finding love? Who doesn't enjoy that trope?! Triggers: suicidal ideation, attempted abortion, rape/non-con, domestic violence

We have Kerry Monkburn, the omega with a disability and a violent, abusive contracted alpha, our resident villain from books #1-2 (Wilbet Monhundy) and Janus Heelies, the asshole spoiled alpha from book #2, Alpha Heat, who is recovering from his illness and trying to reform from his philandering ways.

Bitter Heat literally starts with a violent bang as we're thrust into the aftermath of Kerry having to spend his heat in prison with Wilbet. (ugh, just typing Wilbet's name make me mad). And we get to see his bleak view of the world. His has no rights since he signed them away once he contracted (married) his alpha, Wilbet. And since Wilbet in in jail, Wilbet's evil parents control Kerry since he's consider basically property. Imagine how horrible it is to have your in-laws control you and your body?

Kerry ends up being knocked up and he returns to his poor mountain hometown to try to spend his pregnancy is sort of peace. Janus Heelies ends up in the mountain boarding house (ran by Kerry's family) to train to become a nurse. He's on his road to redemption and what he didn't expect is to be snagged by the taciturn Kerry.

Kerry is ornery and stubborn and is damaged on the outside and much as the inside. Janus sees something in him and though Kerry fights him, he's still fascinated with him. There's intrigue, more mentions of violence as the most of it happens off page, hurt/comfort, recovery and love. There's a bit of humor too with Kerry's mountain folk (think hillbilly).

What I enjoy about Blake's world as though it's in the future and women have died out, technology advances are slow. I'd like to think it's the result of missing women and creativity was slower. Because I questioned throughout the series, how humans were able to create alpha, beta and omegas but we're just getting to the creation of photographs and only using landline phones.

The narrator is a delight to listen too. His voices are great. He emotes like a dream and I was never bored. He really adds to the reading experience. I loved his mountain people voices and Monte Monhundy, the most. Sometimes Janus and Kerry's voices got hard to differentiate but since I read along, it wasn't bad.

And Caleb and Yosef make an appearance. It was like a mini reunion.

There is angst but there is definitely a happy ending that I guessed, but not with the unexpected twist.

I highly recommend this series as it's creative and delight to read each main character. And I see there's #3.5 (Winter's Heart) offered for free, featuring Heat of Love offspring. I dunno if I'm ready to jump into the future with them.

But I definitely will have a hard time letting the characters go.

Recommended for ABO enthusiasts who like good plots, don't mind angst and enjoy characters that leave an impression.




Release Blitz + Giveaway: Restricted (The Verge #1) by A.C. Thomas


Author A.C. Thomas and IndiGo Marketing celebrate the release of Restricted (The Verge #1)! Read more about the first in the science fiction series and enter in the $10 NineStar Press credit giveaway!

 

Title: Restricted

Series: The Verge, Book One

Author: A.C. Thomas

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: November 2, 2020

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 63900

Genre: Science Fiction, LGBTQIA+, sci-fi, pansexual, gay, nerd/scientist, pilot/space cowboy, space travel/road trip, space pirates, missing person, size difference, twins, virginity/loss of virginity, class difference

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Synopsis

Dr. Aristotle Campbell is a desperate man. His twin brother has been abducted, and Ari will do anything to find him. Forced out of the comfortable solitude of his laboratory, Ari must leave their home world of Britannia and search the farthest reaches of space for his other half. He hastily equips himself with a flawlessly tied cravat, a handful of clues, and his small science vessel. Now, all he needs is a pilot to get him across the Verge, a barrier separating the civilized world from ungoverned space.

Pilot Orin Stone is a desperate man. No ship, no pay, no prospects. He spends his days barely scraping by in the rough colonies lining the Verge interior. When he gets an offer from a frantic, upper-crust professor in need of a pilot, he has no choice but to take the job. He just can’t believe it when the professor turns out to be the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen and that his offer includes a ship of Orin’s own. If Orin can keep his heart (and other portions of his anatomy) from leaping every time sweet, innocent Dr. Campbell looks at him, this should be his easiest job yet.

Rugged Orin and aristocratic Ari work together to navigate the lawless areas of space beyond the Verge, soon discovering that they work well together in all areas. Their immediate and intense attraction to one another is an obstacle to their plans that neither saw coming. More than sparks will fly when they break through the force field and enter restricted space, all alone together for the perilous journey, leaving barriers to their growing attachment far behind.

In their search across the stars, can two desperate men find their home in one another?

Excerpt

Restricted
A.C. Thomas © 2020
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
“You want me to do what?”

Ari straightened his shoulders, hands folded together on the table between them, suppressing a wince as his skin stuck unpleasantly to a thick smear of residue best left uninvestigated.

Somewhere behind him the sound of glass breaking was followed by a bowel-shaking roar, a meaty impact, scuffling sounds, and hearty guffaws.

Definitively best left uninvestigated.

He sniffed quietly, regretting the action as the odor of stale beer and unwashed bodies assaulted his senses. Forcing himself to meet his companion’s bored regard, he cleared his throat before speaking in as firm a tone as he could manage.

“In the interest of saving both of our time, I’ll cut to the chase. I require a pilot capable of navigating uncharted areas with immediate availability and a willingness to negotiate a flexible pay schedule.”

Mr. “Call me Orin, honey” Stone slumped back in his seat with careless, sprawling grace, the edge of one enormous scuffed leather boot sliding across the floor to rest a millimeter away from the polished black toes of Ari’s spats.

“So, just so we’re clear— You’re asking me to find you a pilot ready to jump right across the Verge into the deepest, slimiest dark, for—and this is the bit that really sticks in my throat, pumpkin— You want me to find you some sap willing to do all that for, apparently, no pay.”

Keen bourbon eyes swept Ari from head to toe, that restless boot finally edging just close enough to touch.

“You’re cute, sugar. But you’re off your rocker.”

Ari’s chair scraped against the floor as he jolted forward in his seat, one hand closing around the fraying cuff of Orin’s greatcoat.

“This is a matter of utmost urgency. My brother is—” He paused to clear his throat after an embarrassing crack in his voice. “My brother is missing; he has been abducted by an Outlier fiend, and I am utilizing every resource at my disposal to ensure his safe return. My inquiries led me to you, with the assurance you could facilitate a jump with immediate effect. Now I demand that you either provide said assistance, or you cease wasting my time.”

Orin fixated on the white-knuckled grip holding his sleeve. The coiled strength of his thick forearm underscored Ari’s awareness that he could break free at a moment’s notice with very little energy expended.

“What kind of resources are we talking, here?” Orin’s eyes narrowed under a heavy brow, the sweep of space-black lashes unexpectedly elegant against his brutish visage.

Ari drew a long breath, attempting to steady his resolve.

“I possess a three-year-old Xalanthe Explorer model 953V. It is in exemplary condition, and I am prepared to offer it as payment upon my brother’s safe return to our home on Britannia.”

Before he finished speaking, Orin sat up in his chair, the full extent of his imposing size suddenly evident even while seated. He turned his hand in Ari’s grip, long fingers wrapping easily around his thin wrist.

“You’re trading your ship. A brand-new ship. To any asshole willing to fly it? Just to finish a little game of hide-and-seek with your brother who—no offense, Red—sounds like he ran off with a bit of strange?”

Aristotle bristled, slim shoulders rising to his ears as the heat of an angry flush spread from the unfortunate ginger of his precisely parted hairline down to the white of his starched collar points.

“He did not ‘run off’! He was abducted. I have no more time to waste with your nonsense, sir. Are you able to assist in my endeavor, or shall I continue pursuing a pilot on my own?”

A lopsided grin spread across his companion’s face, revealing a hint of prominent canine and a surprisingly charming set of dimples. Orin gave another insolent sweep of his gaze, ticking to the length of Ari’s throat rising above his cravat. The rumble of his voice dropped low enough that Ari had to strain to hear him above the surrounding chaos.

“Hmm, that depends, Red. That blush go all the way down?”

The clatter of the cheap aluminum chair against the cracking concrete floor was lost in the cacophony of raucous laughter, clinking glasses, and blaring synth music that characterized drinking establishments on the rough ring of colonies lining the Verge. Ari wrenched his arm away as he stood, breaking free.

He turned his back, adjusting his waistcoat with trembling fingers as he wracked his brain for alternative solutions. He had only taken a half step away from the table when a firm grip on his coattails wrenched him backward. He swung around, fists in a pugilist’s stance, raised to the smiling face of Mr. Stone.

“Whoa now, slow up there, professor. If you’re wanting to trade a whole damn ship for the temporary services of some sleazy sack of shit with a pilot’s license, I got just the guy you need.”

Knees weak with relief, Ari nearly attempted to sit before remembering he had overturned his chair, which was now likely glued to the filthy floor of the saloon.

“Excellent. Where can I find this person?”

That lopsided grin opened up into a full-blown smile, revealing rows of white, uneven teeth. “You’re looking at him, sweetheart.”

Ari twitched at the endearment, unaccustomed to the way they seemed to drip from the pilot’s every phrase like butter melting off the plate.

He turned fully to face him, coattails twining around his narrow hips as Orin maintained his grip, tugging once with a waggle of thick brows at Ari’s resulting unintentional pelvic thrust before releasing him with a flourish.

Orin pushed off from the table, broad shoulders rising up and up to just above Ari’s line of sight. Ari swallowed an obvious comment on the pilot’s intimidating height, realizing how much he’d underestimated the man’s size.

Ari stared straight ahead at the hollow of Mr. Stone’s throat, bronze skin left exposed by the open vee of his collarless shirt. A few dark, curling hairs peeked out of the opening, inches from Aristotle’s nose. A strange fluttering sensation swept through his abdomen at the sight.

Recognizing the sensation as inappropriate at best and disastrous at worst, Ari turned on stiff legs and led the way out of the saloon, doing his utmost to avoid brushing up against the rough clientele. Heads swiveled to follow Ari even as they ignored the much larger figure of Mr. Stone following close behind his every step.

Ari ducked his head as they emerged into the daylight, squinting against the intrusive brightness before heading off toward the nearest dry dock, zeroing in on his ship after a few minutes’ walk. Mr. Stone was a silent shadow at his back, footsteps shockingly light for a man of his size.

The small exploratory vessel stood out among the busted-up freighters and speeders cluttering the dock. Clean panels of riveted steel shaped the subtle curves framing the centerpiece—a large frontal view screen. The only unnecessary ornament was that of the exaggerated dorsal fin, the sight of which had caused Aristotle’s brother to laugh out loud when they first purchased the ship.

Ari’s back stiffened at a low whistle, two familiar notes usually directed with prurient interest.

Mr. Orin Stone was circling his ship, one hand, large and square as a shovel head, trailing long fingers over the surface with surprising reverence.

“What’s your name, beautiful?”

He directed his inquiry to the ship but turned to Aristotle as though expecting an answer.

Ari cleared his throat. “As I have previously mentioned, it is a Xalanthe—”

Orin cut him off with a rude sound pushed between full lips. “She.”

Ari opened his mouth to reply, mistaking a brief pause for the conclusion of the pilot’s statements.

“Ship’s a she. And she’s a pretty little thing, deserves a name. If you don’t have one for her yet, I can think of something fancy to call her. Something with a bit of glitter to it. Little lady like this one deserves to shine.”

His eyes in turn glittered at Ari, sparkling with amusement and apparent satisfaction upon viewing the small science vessel.

Without looking away, he spat into one rough palm before holding it out to Aristotle as if to shake.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Red.”

Ari recoiled from the offered hand, curling his own into protective fists at the notion of sealing a verbal contract with an exchange of bodily fluids.

“That is the most disgusting thing I have ever seen.”

Orin’s throaty laughter rang out against the polished metal panels of the ship exterior, echoing across the shipyard.

“Is it now? Well, stick with me, sugar; I could really expand your horizons.”

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Meet the Author

A.C. Thomas left the glamorous world of teaching preschool for the even more glamorous world of staying home with her toddler. Between the diaper changes and tea parties, she escapes into fantastical worlds, reading every romance available and even writing a few herself. 

She devours books of every flavor—science fiction, historical, fantasy—but always with a touch of romance because she believes there is nothing more fantastical than the transformative power of love.

Website | Facebook | Twitter

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