Release Blitz + Giveaway: Cash: An MM Mafia Romance (Ruthless Daddies) by K.L. Hiers

 

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Cash: An MM Mafia Romance (Ruthless Daddies) 

Author and Publisher: K.L. Hiers

Cover Artist: Charli Childs

Release Date: August 12, 2022

Genre: Contemporary MM Romance, Mafia Romance

Tropes: Interracial Couple, First Time Gay, Bad Boys Do It Better, Daddy Kink, Kidnapping, Bad Men Doing Bad Things

Themes: Food is love, learning to trust, sex first feelings later, daddy/boy

Heat Rating: 5 flames  

Length: 90 000 words    

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

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

Blurb 

Cho “Brick” Brixton enjoys cooking, working in his yard, and binge-watching television while living as an out and proud gay man in the heart of downtown Raleigh, North Carolina. His parents had the perfect romance, having fallen in love at first sight when they met in Korea, and Brick longs to find a love like that for his own. Whipping up meals for one isn’t much fun, and the constant boredom is a drag. 

Not to mention it’s miserably lonely.

All of that changes when a giant mysterious hunk named Jules Price moves in next door. Jules has arrived on business of the not-so-legal sort, namely to retrieve something that was stolen from his criminal family. When he’s not busy being a vicious gangster, Jules is set on getting close to Brick and exploring his first ever attraction to another man. Although Brick has been yearning for the excitement of meeting that special someone, he soon realizes he may have bitten off more than he can swallow. 

As their romance heats up, so too does the danger, and Brick finds himself in the middle of a bloodbath in the making if Jules can’t get back what he came here for. Luckily for Brick, Jules is the kind of man who will stop at nothing to keep him safe, and he doesn’t care who gets in his way—or how high the body count gets. 

CASH is part of the Ruthless Daddies multi-author collab and a complete standalone. Expect to find a criminal Daddy, a tough boy, high steam, and some dark mafia themes. Want more deliciously morally gray Daddies and boys? Grab the whole series! 

Excerpt 

“Never met a guy that got me hard before.” Jules glanced over Brick appraisingly. “Well, except you.”

Brick couldn’t have heard that correctly. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve met some of the most fuckin’ fearless motherfuckers on the planet. Nothing makes these guys flinch, not a fuckin’ thing.” Jules paused to sip his drink, his dark eyes fixed on Brick’s. “And you…”

Brick’s face was instantly on fire from the intensity of Jules’s gaze, and he was hyperaware of how very close they were right now. He couldn’t stop glancing down at Jules’s mouth, fixated on a wet spot of liquor that he desperately wanted to taste. 

“You’re just some fuckin’ translator. You’re just a regular guy, but you didn’t hesitate a fuckin’ second to point that gun at those assholes. I saw you fightin’ them before I got in there. You were gonna mess those fuckers up if they hadn’t pulled on you.” Jules grinned. “It was fuckin’ hot.”

“Yeah?” Brick leaned in, gravitating as closely as he dared to Jules. “And how many other guys have you tried to sell this shit to, huh? Oh, I’ve never ever been with any dudes before, but you are so way hot, please suck my dick.”

“Hey. I didn’t say nothin’ about suckin’ me.” Jules’s tongue flicked over his lips. “But if you wanna, I ain’t gonna stop you.”

“Who said I wanted to?” Brick fired back. 

“Oh, baby boy.” Jules’s smile grew wicked. “You definitely wanna.”

“You sure about that?” Brick couldn’t believe this was happening now.

Flirting with Jules was somehow even more insane than having a gun pulled on him earlier tonight, especially since Jules was so eagerly flirting right back. The energy in the room was charged, hot, and Brick knew he was in deep trouble because the only thing on his mind was kissing this sexy gangster. 

“Very sure.” Jules’s hand slid up Brick’s thigh to rest on his hip. “I know a pair of fuck-me eyes when I see ’em. You wanna suck Daddy’s dick, huh?”

“I think you’re just really into this Daddy thing,” Brick argued, seeking out Jules’s chest and rubbing over his thick pec. “You want some sweet little thing to roll over and call you Daddy while he blows you, huh?”

“Can that sweet little thing be you? ’Cause I’m startin’ to get into it.”

“I don’t know, Daddy,” Brick teased. “I still think this isn’t the first time you’ve pulled this.”

“It is.” Jules touched Brick’s cheek. “Ain’t ever had any guy get to my dick like this. You’re… pretty fuckin’ special.”

“And you’re not having any kind of weird identity crisis wanting a guy to blow you?”

“I’m very well adjusted.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“It don’t matter. Like I told you before, when I want something, I go for it.” Jules’s lips hovered over Brick’s, and his breath was hot and smelled of spicy liquor as he whispered, “And right fuckin’ now, I want you.” 

Brick’s brain imploded. He could not think clearly when Jules said shit like that, and touching Jules’s thick muscled chest was every bit as delicious as Brick had imagined. Moving fast wasn’t new to Brick—hell, once upon a time he’d been known to have some fun in the men’s room at the club when he couldn’t wait to get home. 

But this was crazy, right?

Wanting to sleep with his attractive neighbor who was a dangerous gangster, had saved Brick’s life, and also apparently just decided that he wanted to sleep with Brick despite never having been with a man before?

Definitely crazy. 

Like, all the planets in the solar system had aligned in full batshit formation just for tonight to ensure optimal levels of crazy.

“What if I say no?” Brick challenged. 

“Mmm.” Jules hummed thoughtfully. “Then I get to be real disappointed for a lil’ bit while I think up some way to change your mind.”

“You think it’s gonna be that easy?”

“Trust me. Daddy Jules is very, very convincing.” 

“Right.” Brick scoffed, his pulse rising to an eardrum-shattering level. He could deny it all he wanted to, but they both already knew what was about to happen. “Sure you are.”

Jules smiled, slid his fingers into Brick’s hair, and pulled him in for a deep kiss.

About the Author 

K.L. “Kat” Hiers is an embalmer, restorative artist, and queer writer. Licensed in both funeral directing and funeral service, they worked in the death industry for nearly a decade. Their first love was always telling stories, and they have been writing for over twenty years, penning their very first book at just eight years old. Publishers generally do not accept manuscripts in Hello Kitty notebooks, however, but they never gave up.

Following the success of their first novel, Cold Hard Cash, they now enjoy writing professionally, focusing on spinning tales of sultry passion, exotic worlds, and emotional journeys. They love attending horror movie conventions and indulging in cosplay of their favorite characters. They live in Zebulon, NC, with their husband and their children, some of whom have paws and a few that only pretend to because they think it’s cute.

Author Links

Blog/Website  |   Facebook  |  Instagram  

Twitter  |  Newsletter Sign-up  |  Patreon 

Giveaway 

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Release Blitz: Tongues by Clancy Nacht & Thursday Euclid

Authors Clancy Nacht & Thursday Euclid and Gay Book Promotions share new release for Tongues! Read more about the horror today!
 

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Tongues

Author: Clancy Nacht & Thursday Euclid

Publisher: Eine Kleine Press

Cover Artist: Clancy Nacht

Release Date: May 17, 2022

Genre: LGBTQ+ horror fiction, Lovecraftian horror

Tropes: Forced proximity, fate

Themes: Saving the world, Interracial mc, black mc, lgbt, horror, adult, cosmic horror, occult horror, paranormal suspense, occult fiction

Heat Rating: 5 flames

Length:  51 000 words/170 pages

It a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger, but a HFN.

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

Cosmically tormented FBI linguist investigates famous actor's unspeakable past and discovers an eldritch power the government seeks to exploit  

Blurb

Cosmically tormented FBI linguist Ekon is the only one B-list heartthrob Chris will talk to about the Farm, a horrifying cult of which he's the only known survivor. As they bond over mysterious pasts and their unsettling attraction, Ekon discovers an eldritch power his government bosses would love to exploit, one that could spell the end of everything.

While there are queer and romantic elements, this is a horror novel.

Content Warning: Violence, gore, horror, mentions of CSA

Excerpt 

In a black, Fed-issued SUV, Ekon pulled up outside Daimon’s luxury apartment at the appointed hour. A trickle of sweat snaked down Ekon’s spine in LA’s abundant spring warmth, turning cold as he headed through the air-conditioned lobby to the elevator. Though it should’ve been a bustling, well-secured complex, there didn’t seem to be a soul around.

Palming his badge, he strode down a long, empty, gray-walled hallway and knocked at Daimon’s door.

“Mr. Daimon, it’s Agent Adams with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. We have an appointment?”

There was nothing, not a sound on the other side. Was Daimon even at home? Was anyone?

Then Ekon heard it: The eerie rustle of the nameless language. Born not of wind or whistling pipes, it emanated this time from the corridor’s buzzy fluorescent bulbs as if presaging the coming of something unutterable.

Without even the sound of a loosed deadbolt, the door yawned open, and a familiar young white man stood before Ekon. He was damp, naked but for the towel clinging precariously around his hips, and in excellent physical shape.

The world went silent, as if muted by the force of Daimon’s presence. There was only the fluorescents’ unholy rustling and a high-pitched, constant scream like the aftermath of a high-powered gunshot.

Then Daimon smiled.

Ambient noise returned with crippling ferocity: Traffic outside the complex, neighbors within, as painfully intense as if they were all trapped inside Ekon’s skull. Even his heartbeat deafened him, a muffled thudding in his inner ears one instant per second.

The young man tilted his head, wet hair dripping onto his shoulder. His eyes—a bright blue even more piercing than on television—scanned Ekon slowly up and down with careful sensuousness that left Ekon feeling undressed.

Then Daimon blinked slowly, like a happy cat, and turned sideways to allow Ekon in.

“They sent you alone?”

Why did he sound so amused?

About the Authors 

Together, Texans and platonic life partners Thursday Euclid and Clancy Nacht write queer novels that span genres, with intense romances and a seamless shared narrative voice.

They published their first co-written novel, the m/m rock star romance Black Gold, in 2010, and now have over a decade of award-winning collaborations under their exquisite belts. Recent titles include the twisted romance His Fake Prison Daddy and the Phisher King series, in which an uptight federal agent and a bratty hacker go from enemies to lovers while solving a hate crime.

Though Elder Millennial trans man Thursday and Gen X gender outlaw Clancy live three hours apart, they are inseparable. Their friendship is a perfect example of the Grumpy/Sunshine trope, which makes Thursday very happy. Clancy thinks it’s all right.

Social Media Links

Blog/Website  |   Twitter  |   Twitter  |   Instagram  

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Book Blast + Giveaway: CLUBBED TWO: Anxiety, Anger, Activism by Robert A. Karl

 

Author Robert A. Karl and Gay Book Promotions share info on LGBTQ Historical Fiction released earlier this year, CLUBBED TWO: Anxiety, Anger, Activism! Find out more and enter in the $25 Amazon Gift Card giveaway! Good luck!

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: CLUBBED TWO: Anxiety, Anger, Activism

Author: Robert A. Karl

Cover Artist: Nirkri with original art by Alejandro Mesurado 

Release Date: January 31, 2022

Genre: LGBTQ Historical Fiction

Themes: LGBTQ Pride; Diversity; Disability Awareness and Acceptance; Interracial Love; 1980s Queer Fashions and Fads; Ageism, Infidelity, AIDS Activism

Heat Rating:  4 flames   

Length:  81 516 words/ 291 pages

It is part of a series, but can be read as a standalone.

It does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

Every day is a good day to be gay.

Blurb

CLUBBED TWO is historical fiction, set in Philadelphia from 1982 to 1992. Club Sanctuary can be seen as a metaphor for the greater LGBTQ community, but it is written as a real place, with characters who are fabulous, funny and flawed.

The author combines historical characters and events with fictional ones, creating a story that's entertaining, informative and emotional. The love story between the two main characters, Joey and Henry, serves as a vehicle for connecting the stories of diverse, Queer characters.

This second book in the CLUBBED series continues the story as the LGBTQ community fights prejudice and ignorance in an effort to be recognized as people worthy of respect. Will the community be torn apart by fear, or will they come together to support PWAs? (People With AIDS)

Experience the drama, the beauty, and the excitement as well as the music, fashion and fads of the 80s with CLUBBED TWO: Anxiety, Anger, Activism. 

Excerpt 

When he let himself into Kirk’s room, he found Kirk sitting on a small sofa in front of a 13-inch black and white TV with no cable. The picture was fuzzy and the volume was low while a rerun of Happy Days was on.

“Just put the box on the coffee table and we can eat here. And keep out two beers and put the rest in the fridge.”

Kirk proceeded to eat, with no hint that anything sexual was about to take place between them. This felt awkward to Jando who didn’t really know how to act on a date. He was used to quick fuck-n-sucks, usually in a public place like The Hole at the club. So, he copied what Kirk did. He figured Kirk knew how to act better than he did.

After a few minutes, there was only one slice of pizza left. Kirk looked at the young Puerto Rican guy sitting next to him with a mischievous grin.

“Hey Bae, you know what I always wanted to do?”

“Please don’t tell me you always wanted to smash a guy in the mouth with a slice,” Jando joked.

“No, not that. But you know how in the movies, a couple will share something they’re eating, until they end up mouth-to-mouth. And then they have to decide whether to kiss or what they’re gonna do next?”

“Yeah,” Jando said. And not just people do that. Remember in that cartoon where Lady and the Tramp were eating spaghetti?”

Kirk laughed, actually snorting a little as he thought about that famous scene.

“If you’re the Lady, I guess that makes me the Tramp,” Kirk said, still laughing.

“You wanna try it?” Kirk asked, reaching for the final slice, trimming it into a very slim slice and pointing the uncrusted end towards Jando’s mouth.

Kirk closed his eyes and started to eat the crust on his side of the slice. He felt the pull as Jando joined him, taking small bites of the other side.

Kirk started laughing again. “Damn! I didn’t think about that we actually have to stop to chew.”

Now both of them were laughing, as Kirk continued to hold the slice in mid-air between their two mouths.

“Keep going, Bae. Keep going.”

With gooey cheese dripping down and various pieces of pepperoni, green peppers, onions and mushrooms falling, and while they tried to keep from laughing, their mouths continued to inch closer. 

Finishing the slice, they were both chewing as their lips finally brushed up against each other’s. 

Swallowing hard, Kirk took the lead and kissed Alejandro forcefully. He pushed Jando back so he was prone on the sofa as he slid his tongue into Jando’s mouth, tasting the pizza but also the sweetness of Jando’s lips and tongue. Jando returned the favor, kissing with a passion that he’d been holding back for a few hours, needing some release soon. 

“I wanna do this right. Let’s go in the bedroom,” Kirk whispered, lifting himself off Jando’s writhing body. “And bring the beers with you,” Kirk reminded him as he took hold of a walking cane that was next to the sofa, unnoticed by his Bae.

About the Author 

Robert A. Karl is a native son of Philadelphia, PA, a retired educator, a queer author, and the proud Gay Dog Dad to Zuna, the Awesome Boston Terrier. He now resides in San Juan, Puerto Rico, where he enjoys the beauty and culture of La Isla del Encanto, The Island of Enchantment.

Social Media Links

Facebook  |  Instagram  |  Twitter 

Giveaway 

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

a $25 Amazon Gift Card

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: My Dragon, My Dom (Southern Dragons #1) by Dulce Dennison

Dragons, first responders and BDSM with a holiday twist! See author Dulce Dennison and IndiGo Marketing's release blitz for My Dragon, My Dom (Southern Dragons #1)! Read more and enter in the attached giveaway!

Title: My Dragon, My Dom

Series: Southern Dragons #1

Author: Dulce Dennison

Publisher: Changeling Press

Release Date: December 2019

Heat Level: 4 - Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 91

Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Christmas, Dragons & Magical Creatures, Shifters, Interracial, BDSM, Urban Fantasy, First Responders

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Synopsis

Officer Corbin Richters has gone through more partners than he can count. They all claim he’s difficult to work with, but he knows better. They’re scared being gay might be something they can catch. Idiots. When he’s assigned yet another partner, his inner dragon perks up and takes notice. Josh is different from anyone he’s ever met. Unfortunately, he’s also human.

When the two are tasked with getting Christmas trees for families in need, they never count on growing close. The more time Corbin spends with Josh, the more certain he becomes the man is his mate.

Excerpt

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Dulce Dennison

Corbin Richters watched the sexy-as-hell man walking through the door of the precinct, his blue uniform fitted snugly to his shoulders and chest, silver badge gleaming under the fluorescent lights, his stride powerful and purposeful as he approached Captain Meeker. The dark hair on his head stood out in disarray but it was artfully done, the waves beckoning to be touched in an intimate caress. His eyes looked green from this distance, and they took everything in with a swift assessment that said he was ready for whatever danger that might be lurking within the precinct walls. Whoever he was, he wasn’t a rookie. No one got that hard-edged look, the look of a predator, the first day on the job.

Corbin’s heart kicked in his chest and his hands clenched on top of the desk. What he wouldn’t give to peel away that uniform and see what lay beneath the crisp, blue material. He unconsciously licked his lips as he thought about trailing kisses along those broad shoulders. Corbin’s skin heated and his cock twitched in his pants. He felt his scales ripple under his skin and fought for control. Hell, here he was fantasizing over the man, and he wasn’t even sure if the cop was into men or women. Or both. It had been a long time since he’d had such a reaction to someone on first sight, and he wanted to explore the feelings a bit more.

“Damn.” He sneaked a quick glance around. Had he said that out loud?

Corbin watched as the officer shook hands with the captain and then as Captain Meeker pointed at Corbin. Why on earth was the captain sending Mr. Sexy his way? Not that he was going to complain! Still, he had to admit to being curious. What did the man’s voice sound like? Would he offer to shake hands? Would that small contact arouse Corbin’s dragon even more? The beast was already more than a little intrigued.

The object of his desire strode across the room with panther-like grace, his movements fluid and beautiful, and stopped at the edge of Corbin’s desk. The officer flashed him a smile, one that had his dragon -- lusty beast -- perking up considerably, and held out his hand.

Corbin stood and shook it, an electrical current shooting up his arm, swirling down through his chest, and settling in his balls, making them draw up tight. His cock gave another jerk, but if the officer noticed -- and something told Corbin that he had -- he wasn’t commenting on it. Corbin had thought the man would pack a punch, but it still took him by surprise, this visceral reaction. He couldn’t remember the last time his dragon and he had been in total agreement on their choice of bed partners.

The man’s voice was crisp and clipped as he introduced himself. “Josh Myers.”

“Corbin Richters.” Corbin released Josh’s hand reluctantly before he did something stupid, like jerk him closer for a different sort of embrace. As it was, he wanted to bury his nose against the man’s neck and inhale that incredible scent that was teasing him.

“It seems I’m your new partner,” Josh said.

Partner? Corbin shot the captain a look. No one had said anything about a new partner. Corbin had only been part of the Blueberry Hill Police Department for a little over a month, having been lucky enough to land the job within a week of hitting town. And yet he’d already gone through two partners. The men had claimed Corbin was too rough and rude, but he knew the truth. They didn’t care that he was black. They hadn’t wanted to work with a gay officer. Probably afraid it would rub off on them or some stupid shit like that.

“I take it this is news to you,” Josh said, that gorgeous smile flirting around his lips again. Lips that looked full and soft, the kind of lips a man could kiss forever.

Corbin cleared his throat, hoping to get better control of himself. “Yeah, I hadn’t heard that I was getting a new partner today.” He met Josh’s gaze. “But I’m glad you’re here.” Too direct?

Josh’s smile broadened and there was something in his eyes, a warmth that told Corbin his advances might be welcome. He supposed time would tell. It was possible the guy was just being friendly and he was reading into things.

Corbin pointed to the desk butting up to his. “That will be your space. There should be some supplies in the drawer, but if not, we can ask the receptionist on our way out.”

“Hitting the streets early?”

“I thought we’d swing by Espress Yourself and grab some coffee. There’s no charge to officers for a regular brewed cup, and they usually have a few different flavors going. You have to pay for those fancy drinks though.”

Josh smiled again. “Sounds good. I can check out the desk when we get back.”

“The black SUV near the back is ours.”

Josh scanned him from head to toe. “I’m guessing your size has something to do with us getting the biggest vehicle. What are you? Six foot four?”

Corbin grinned. “Six-six.” Not that Josh was short. He had to be at least six-two.
They strolled out of the rear precinct door and headed to the SUV. Corbin popped the locks with the key fob and slid in.

“So…” Josh glanced his way as he snapped his seatbelt into place. “Your place or mine?”

Purchase

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

Meet the Author

Dulce Dennison is a pen name for gay and LGBTQA+ themed love stories from best selling MC romance author Harley Wylde, AKA award-winning science fiction/paranormal romance author Jessica Coulter Smith. From cowboys to shapeshifters, Dulce/Harley/Jess believes in love in all shapes and sizes, and that everyone deserves a happily-ever-after.

Website | Facebook | Twitter

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: A Highland Hogmanay (Christmas Masquerade #2) by Meg Mardell

Author Meg Mardell and IndiGo Marketing host a release blitz for new Christmas historical, A Highland Hogmanay (Christmas Masquerade #2)!  Find out about the Highlanders and enter in the NineStar Press credit giveaway!
 

Title: A Highland Hogmanay

Series: Christmas Masquerade, Book Two

Author: Meg Mardell

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 11/23/2021

Heat Level: 1 - No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 37700

Genre: Historical holiday, LGBTQIA+, historical, Victorian England, holiday, Christmas, Scottish Highlands, lesbian, wlw, mistaken identity, humorous, family drama, interracial, intercultural, road trip, age gap

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Description

The daughter of an Indian raja and renegade Englishwoman, Sharda Holkar, was gifted with a magnificent dowry but little say in her future. Until now. She must endure one more depressing holiday season with her controlling cousins, then she will be free to begin her emancipated life. But her discovery of a plot to marry her off to the preening son of the house has Sharda wondering if her new start should begin at once. When Sharda meets the intriguing owner of a Highland castle at a Christmas Eve masquerade, she wastes no time in forming a plan—she will escape across the Scottish border!

Finella Forbes cannot imagine why a sophisticated heiress like Sharda would even associate with someone who manages a castle for a living, let alone accompany her all the way back to the Highlands in time for the raucous celebration of Hogmanay. But a wealthy buyer is just what Balintore Castle needs. Fin is determined to prove she is just as good an estate manager as her father, but with the negligent lordly owner refusing to do his duty, she needs help fast. When mistaken assumptions jeopardise their initial attraction, Sharda and Fin will need all the mischief and magic of a Highland holiday to discover the true nature of their feelings.

Excerpt

A Highland Hogmanay
Meg Mardell © 2021
All Rights Reserved

“It’s getting quite sticky in here, isn’t it? Don’t these people perspire a lot in their ridiculous costumes? But the fools will insist upon picking characters that require false beards and headwraps and the lot. What do they expect?”

Mr Edward Pilkington watched the white-masked Pierrots and Pierrettes rotating around the Mayfair ballroom the same way he looked at everything else—right down his upturned nose. Of course, on this occasion, he might just be stopping his own mask from slipping.

“I must say, I consider it in poor taste of Lady Belleville to host such a gaudy entertainment on Christmas Eve. There’s enough blinding décor in every home and shop window without humans dressing like a bunch of tinsel ornaments.”

Sharda thought the display of Venetian masks in gold, silver, and red rather complemented the miles of glittering white ribbon their hostess had threaded around her every enormous window and door. But five days of Edward’s persistent company had taught her to neither agree nor disagree with his frequent judgements as both fanned the flames of his perpetual dissatisfaction.

“Perhaps you now see, Miss Holkar, the wisdom of my selection of attire. A simple mask and fancywork vest, and perhaps a sash, is really all that is required on these occasions.”

“For women as well as men?”

Sharda’s costume took its inspiration from the opulent carnival style of Venetian women from the height of that city’s pomp and power two centuries back. Her square-necked black silk gown cut away to a blaze of scarlet underskirt. Tiny stitched-in crystals covered the tight scarlet front bodice as well as her matching silk hat. Jutting out over one eye, the bold topper terminated in a cascade of black feathers that brushed her black half mask. Edward’s mother, one of Sharda’s inexhaustible supply of second and third cousins, had tried to convince her to wear what that lady was pleased to call her “native finery.” But when Sharda had insisted on purchasing a new costume for the ball, Lavinia Pilkington had graciously conceded that the Venetian style looked well on Sharda, for “many ladies of the Italian peninsula are quite of your complexion, my dear.”

The lady’s son was equally talented at giving compliments.

“A bit of exotic finery is not amiss on a woman. Provided she’s young, of course. There’s nothing more displeasing than an old woman got up like the Queen of Sheba. Now, perhaps I can see if these insolent Turks of footmen have some iced sherbet. You must be awfully hot in all your…” The gentleman gestured to Sharda’s hat. “Er, not that you look to any disadvantage or are…” The gentleman sought in vain for an acceptable substitute for sweating.

Sharda suddenly wished she had selected a full mask to hide her private mirth. She should not find it so amusing when Edward remembered, too late, that he was trying to woo her. Though maybe if she did not find the clumsy courtship so funny, she might cry.

“Or perhaps you would like to take the air in the garden, Miss Holkar? And escape this dreadful crush.”

“They seem to have brought much of the garden in here, Mr Pilkington.”

She gratefully caught the crisp scent of the evergreen branches that wrapped every available railing in Lady Belleville’s house. A delicious freshness that made one forget one was in London.

“Hmm, yes, quite. But then you don’t have the same animal noises outside, of course. It’s much easier to talk.”

She had not noticed the noise of the ballroom impairing his ability to talk in the slightest. But she knew what type of conversation he had in mind. He wasn’t the first young man to try to negotiate her out onto a cool veranda.

“Perhaps I would like an ice, Mr Pilkington. If you would be so kind.”

“Yes, of course… Though it will be a dreadful ordeal making my way over to the refreshment area now… No matter. I will see that you get your ice…my lady.”

Sharda took a few calming inhales of the pine-and-wood-polish scent of the Belleville townhouse. Now she could face Lavinia Pilkington, a spare lady fluffed up with a great deal of feathers, descending upon her beside a very grand person in purple.

“Here she is, Lady Belleville. I thought we should have to send some of your splendid footmen in search.”

“That might have proved difficult. I have my own runaway to locate, Mrs Pilkington. My wretched nephew.”

Lavinia trilled a nervous laugh, unable to tell if this was a joke.

“This is my young friend, Miss Sharda Holkar, who is staying the holidays with us. Sharda, meet Lady Belleville.”

“I do like your hat, Miss Holkar. You need a bit of height for such a topper. I, alas, have always extended out rather than up. I do envy women who can carry off such plumage. You are enjoying the ball?”

“Yes, indeed, ma’am.”

“And you’ve been dancing?”

“Not yet.”

“Oh dear, I do like young people to dance.”

“Do not worry, your ladyship. I am sure my son Edward will do the honours soon.”

“Excellent. Now, you must excuse me, for I hear my dear husband’s growl even now. I should make at least a half-hearted attempt to save my guests from his best Scrooge impersonation, should I not?”

Sharda and her cousin each dipped a curtsy—Lavinia’s embarrassingly low—to their hostess as she moved back into the crowd like the prow of a ship easily carving a path through lesser crafts. Sharda was left stranded on an island of two.

“I do hope you truly intend to dance as you promised Lady Belleville. And what did you think of her ladyship? Quite a superior person, I think, but Edward says she wears too many jewels for true breeding. I only wish I had such a problem! Whatever is taking Edward so long, do you think?”

Lavinia had a fidgety manner that made it impossible to relax in her company. After nearly a week as her guest, Sharda was almost as high-strung as her hostess. The prospect of enduring even another five minutes with this wearisome woman was unbearable. Especially as her only reward would be to eat a melted ice and then dance in Edward Pilkington’s sticky grip.

“He promised me he would return very soon. Perhaps I might wait for him in the garden, Mrs Pilkington?”

Lavinia’s eyes glittered behind her feathered mask.

“Ah, yes, that would be an excellent idea. It is far too noisy and hot in here.”

“Should you like to come with me, cousin?”

“Oh, no. No, no. I declare I see my dear friend Mrs, er…Bamtree just over there. But you go right ahead, my dear.”

Sharda needed no further encouragement.

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Meet the Author

Meg moved from the US to England because she fell in love with the Victorians’ peculiar blend of glamour and grime. After a decade of exploring historical excesses in a prim scholarly fashion, she realized that fiction is the best way to delve into that period’s great female-focused and LGBT+ stories. Weaned on the high-seas romances of the 1990s, Meg’s lost none of her love for cross-dressing cabin boys but any tolerance for boorish heroes. She’s delighted to now have a whole raft of quirky and queer characters to cheer for on their quest for Happily Ever After. She frequently breaks off writing for an Earl Grey tea (milk not lemon). She’s trying to learn Polish and Portuguese at the same time. She plans to escape Brexit Britain.

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Snow Globes by Ava Kelly

Author Ava Kelly and IndiGo Marketing get ready for the holiday romance season with bundle, Snow Globes from NineStar Press! Find out more today and enter in the NSP credit giveaway!

 

Title: Snow Globes

Series: Snow Globes Bundle, Books 1-4 and Epilogue

Author: Ava Kelly

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 11/16/2021

Heat Level: 1 - No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 61400

Genre: Contemporary Holiday, LGBTQIA+, contemporary, gay, holiday, Christmas, interracial/intercult., kids, teacher, sweet, family drama, established couple, pansexual, trans, grief, lesbian, family, traditions, foster care, middle school, found family

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Description

Based around the holidays, the Snow Globes series follows a family as it comes together over four winters. Daniel, an elementary school teacher with a big heart and a collection of snow globes to match his travels, longs for a place to belong. When a snowstorm strands him in the home of Jeff and his daughter, Abby, Daniel wonders if this could be the family he yearns for. Out of misfortune, can a wish come true?

Over time, Daniel, Jeff, and Abby’s family grows. After years of self-enforced exile, Abby’s biological father Nick returns to claim his place in his family. Jeff’s friend Amber gains a girlfriend, and new members, twins Leon and Sara, are welcomed into the fold. When ten-year-old Ben, Abby’s bestie, is suddenly in need of a home, relationships are strained. Happiness, and what it means for each of them, needs to be redefined. But will it make them stronger?

With each holiday they share together, more and more traditions are added to the celebrations in this multicultural group. In the new series epilogue, Abby and Ben face an adventure of their own, and we take a peek into the future.

Excerpt

Snow Globes
Ava Kelly © 2021
All Rights Reserved

The hallway was silent around them. Across from where they were sitting, at the counter dividing the office part of the school from the waiting area, a woman busily wrote in a big notebook with thick covers and yellowing pages. Abby didn’t know her name, not like she’d known everyone’s back at her old school. Starting middle school had been exciting and scary all at once, but both Daddy and Daniel had assured her it was what all kids felt when a big change happened. It was what adults felt as well, and Abby had marched forward with her chin high and her belly in knots.

She shouldn’t have been worried. The very first week of classes, she’d found that most of her classmates were the same, and the teachers were awesome. It didn’t hurt that the middle and elementary school buildings sat next to each other, sharing a big yard. So Abby still got to see Daniel, and Ben got to see Amber and Sara when their breaks aligned.

But then—

Abby tapped her toes against the floor, the swift patter too soft to cause much noise. She’d waited on a similar bench many times for Daniel to finish classes and drive them home. Except, the other building was made directly the opposite, so everything was like in a mirror world. Left was right and right was left, and thankfully up wasn’t down, but it still felt wrong.

Next to her, Ben hadn’t moved, curled up with his arms around his knees and his face hidden. He held the hem of his skirt tightly in his shaking fists, and Abby bit her cheek. Before she could say anything, footsteps echoed in hurried thumps, and soon Sara stopped beside Ben.

“What happened?” she asked, eyes set on him.

“Ms. Gauthier,” the woman at the counter said. “Apologies for pulling you out of class. There was an incident, and you’re listed as this boy’s guardian?”

Sara pushed the curls off her forehead and sat down with a hand on Ben’s shoulder. Abby shivered, both waiting for and dreading the moment when—

The outside door opened, and in rushed Daniel.

“Abby, are you all right? Hey,” he said when Abby crossed her arms, unwilling to look up. But Daniel’s face came into view anyway as he crouched in front of her. “What’s wrong?”

Instead of words, Abby could only release a trembling breath, and she squeezed her eyes shut. So much for being strong. Even so, warmth fell around her like the softest blanket as Daniel hugged her to his side, and for a while, Abby focused on that. The palm rubbing up and down her arm was soothing. Neither Daniel nor Daddy had ever been disappointed in her, but they might be now. Not that Abby had done anything wrong; she was sure of it. Well, almost anything.

“Amber’s on her way,” Daniel was saying. “I was lucky my class has gym, but she had to find someone to supervise hers.”

Abby leaned in closer. Daniel was teaching first grade again this year. When Abby had been in his class for those few months before Daddy and Daniel had fallen in love over winter vacation, she’d hated gym so much. Daniel had explained why it was important, and then he did all the exercises with them, and it had become fun. She wondered if the little kids liked it or not, but then her eyes fell on Ben, and it was back to today.

While she hadn’t been paying attention, Amber had arrived. Now, at least Ben was talking to his moms instead of looking like a hiding turtle.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Daniel asked in that voice he had when Daddy was upset and needed a smile.

But nothing could make it better, and Abby shook her head stubbornly. She wished today had never happened. Middle school sucked.

Principal Saunders came out and talked to Sara in the hallway, but even though Sara seemed angry, they weren’t loud enough for Abby to hear. Then, Daniel was called in, and Ben left with his moms without even looking at her. It was fine though. Ben would be by for dinner later, like always on a Monday, because they had chess practice. All would be well.

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Meet the Author

Ava Kelly is an engineer with a deep passion for stories. Whether reading, watching, or writing them, Ava has always been surrounded by tales of all genres. Their goal is to bring more stories to life, especially those of friendship and compassion, those dedicated to trope subversion, those that give the void a voice, and those that spawn worlds of their own.

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Far from Home by Vincent Traughber Meis

Far from Home is out from NineStar Press! Celebrate with author Vincent Traughber Meis and IndiGo Marketing! Read more about the short story collection and enter in the giveaway!

 

Title: Far from Home

Author: Vincent Traughber Meis

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 10/11/2021

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: No Romance, Male/Male, Female/Female

Length: 62800

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, Age-gap, Athlete, Gender-bending, Illness/disease, In the closet, Interracial, Intercultural, Medical personnel, Political, Psychic ability, Pandemic, Teaching, Travel, UST

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Description

Far from Home is a collection of twelve short stories, taking the reader on a journey from the desert sands of the Middle East to a forbidden Caribbean island, and many points in between.

Though two of the stories are set in the U.S., others find gay people dealing with gayness in Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, Spain, Turkey, Cuba, Mexico, and the Netherlands, places where the characters are physically and psychologically far from the comfort of home. Most of the stories focus on Gay men suffering alienation, confusion, violence, and loss in the eternal search for love while they travel or live in other cultures.

The overall focus is on LGBTQ people as they venture out into the world.

Excerpt

Far From Home
Vincent Traughber Meis© 2021
All Rights Reserved

It’s a coffee-colored afternoon: thick, murky, unsweetened, bitter, poured in a long stream from a dallah, hot but cooling rapidly. The air is the color of cardamom seeds, their skin, their eyes. This time of day the same dull brown coats the inside of his head after a rising time of 4:30 a.m., fumbling in darkness to strangle the alarm. He sees the days, weeks, months stretched out in front of him, a path paved in riyals, leading him through the wan desert and, he hopes, toward an oasis. Or is it only a mirage? How much longer does he have to be in the Kingdom? He glances at his watch, calculating the amount of money he has made in the last hour, a pittance compared to the CEO of the international company he works for, though for him and his pre-Saudi life, a fortune.

A thunderstorm that morning flashed out of the murky sky, pummeling this flat wide expanse of beach with a long rain. Rainstorms in the desert are a new phenomenon for him. For days a ceiling has pressed down lower and lower, alternately dropping and holding back its holy water, instantly sullied by its touching of the land. A chain of dirty puddles formed upon a resistant ground, hurrying to stagnation, calling mosquitoes to come perform their pagan rituals of breeding. Garbage, carried by the wind, strewn across the sand, has summoned flies and maggot producers of all types. He steps gingerly toward the sea, avoiding broken bottles and rusting cans, happily less vulnerable in his sneakers than the Saudis in their sandals.

His eyes squint against the gritty air, and pluck from this soiled landscape a man of fine features, an apparition, his white shalwar kameez fluttering in the breeze, bushy dark hair uncovered, not Saudi, Urdu speaker most likely by his attire. But he is real. His beckoning smile cleans the air and calms the American’s rancor, transforming it to the far more dangerous trap of desire. What had he been angry about? He doesn’t remember. No doubt a minor annoyance due to an inexplicable part of his host country’s culture.

“Hello,” the man says, tugging lightly on his thick mustache. “Where you from?”

“American, and you?”

“Pakistani. I am Adil.”

They shake hands. “I’m Mark.”

Adil releases his hand and touches his heart. “Nice to meet you,” he says in a beguiling accent. The sun attempts to burn its way through the cloud cover, but the Pakistani’s black eyes are already shining, providing light. “What you do?”

“Just walking.”

“Me, too. Watch out.” He points out a piece of glass. He’s wearing dressy black boots. “My day off I come here to visit friends.”

“From where?”

“Jubail. I work there. And you?”

“I’m at the Navy base. I teach English.”

“Oh, maybe you help me with my English.” Eyebrows rise high above his smile, white teeth, suggesting an exchange of some sort. “We go have coffee?”

“Yes, but please, no Arabic coffee.”

“Ha ha. Maybe you like it sweet.”

They walk back to the corniche and cross to the shopping center on the other side. Just inside the entrance to the bustling center with a lofty roof of skylights is a café, tables between planters filled with lush plastic plants. They order cappuccinos and sit in the male section separated from the smaller family section where several women sit, black shadows of human form you can see through the latticework dividers if you are so inclined.

Adil glances toward the family section. “Are you married?”

It is always one of the first questions. Trick question. Mark wonders what the correct answer is. He can say he was, but he’s divorced now. Or never married. He decides on a simple no. “And you?”

“Not yet. I work here to finish my contract, then I go back and get married.” He shows his pearly white teeth again. He’s old enough to have crow’s feet, a few strands of gray in his hair. He wears the kameez open halfway down, his hairy chest peeking above his tank top.

A man in Western clothes, Mediterranean looks, passes by, looks up, and shouts an angry threat. The pigeon takes flight as do several others who have been cooing on the rafters. The man goes to the counter and asks for a napkin, brushes his shoulder. Adil laughs. “Maybe is good luck for him,” Adil says. “Let’s go for a drive. Prayer call is coming.”

“You have a car?”

“Yes. You surprised?”

“No. That’s cool.” Mark, despite being much higher in the hierarchy of foreign workers, relies on public transportation. As they exit, Adil puts his hand lightly on Mark’s lower back, entreating him to go first out of the cool into heat. The sun has made a brief appearance but is dropping behind the layer of haze, perpetually lounging on the horizon. They walk side by side. High in the minaret a speaker crackles and a voice begins. It is the Asr prayer call.

“You don’t go to the mosque?”

Adil turns to Mark with a smirk. “Not today.”

“Why not today?”

“Because I meet a new friend.”

Movement surrounds them as shops close. Screeching metal doors slide down tight tracks cutting through the damp air, sounding like screams until they are drowned by the sudden shot-like explosion of the fully extended doors striking the pavement. From across the street comes the clang of gates brought together and the eerie rattle of a chain joining them in a clumsy embrace. The sounds echo up and down the block as a car speeds by on the corniche, honking at each intersection sending shadowy figures scurrying, gripping more tightly the plastic shopping bags dangling from their wrists. Men duck into cars and alleys as the scarves on their heads flap with the sudden haste.

“Come on,” says Adil as he picks up the pace, and a short time later stops at a car. “Ta da!” It is not pretty. The white Nissan is several years old and suffering from the sea air. “This is my baby. Don’t laugh.”

They get on the road out into the desert. Mark has no idea where they’re going or if he’ll ever make it back, something he tries not to think about as he sits in the death seat with a mad Pakistani at the wheel. Adil reaches over and opens the glove compartment. “Look in there. Poems I wrote. Go ahead. Look.”

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Meet the Author

Vincent Traughber Meis started writing plays as a child in the Midwest and cajoled his sisters to act in performing them for neighbors. In high school, one of his short stories won a local contest sponsored by the newspaper. After graduating from college, he worked on a number of short stories and began his first novel. In the 1980’s and 90’s he published a number of pieces, mostly travel articles in publications such as, The Advocate, LA Weekly, In Style, and Our World. His travels have inspired his five novels, all set at least partially in foreign countries: Eddie’s Desert Rose (2011), Tio Jorge (2012), and Down in Cuba (2013), Deluge (2016) and Four Calling Burds (2019). Tio Jorge received a Rainbow Award in the category of Bisexual Fiction in 2012. Down in Cuba received two Rainbow Awards in 2013. Recently stories have been published in three collections: WITH:New Gay Fiction, Best Gay Erotica Vol 1 and Best Gay Erotica Vol 4. He lives in San Leandro, CA with his husband.

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Ternary by Kristin L. Stamper

Tenary is out from NineStar Press! Join author Kristin L. Stamper and IndiGo Marketing in celebration of the MMF sci-fi release! Discover more about the tale and enter in the $10 NSP credit giveaway!

Title: Ternary

Author: Kristin L. Stamper

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 05/31/2021

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male/Female (Male/Male interaction)

Length: 81300

Genre: Science Fiction, LGBTQIA+, sci-fi, AI, scientists, gay, bisexual, MMF, enemies-to-lovers, established couple, reunited, aliens, alien artifact, court trial, mystery, humorous, interracial

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Description

Elora isn’t a robot, but she isn’t human either. She’s an abominable combination of the two, a cyborg. For this offense, she must face judgment in a court of law. There, it will be decided if she’s a person, owed the same rights as any other, or an object, owed no rights at all.

But when a last-ditch effort to demonstrate her humanity backfires, Elora is faced with an element of human nature she always hoped to avoid: love. The consciousness of a dead man is accidentally downloaded into her cybernetic brain, and she becomes infatuated with his still-living husband—whether she wants to or not.

For Elora, making her way in a solar system that fears and hates her has been hard enough. Now, she must do it as an intermediary between lovers while keeping her own heart in check. With the trial fast approaching, and anti-robot protesters demanding her head, Elora can’t afford to get swept up in someone else’s love story.

Excerpt

Ternary
Kristin L. Stamper © 2021
All Rights Reserved

It’s the first taste of freedom I’ve had in weeks. It could also be my last. I march handcuffed down the labyrinthian corridors of the Aidos to be ejected out of an airlock, or have my metal components melted down and recycled into engine parts, or be squashed in a giant garbage disposal. No one’s actually told me where I’m going, but it can’t be anywhere good.

An armored squad of meatheads forced me from my cell without a word. They press the barrels of their rifles into my back to keep me walking. The Aidos was assigned to deliver me to the Minos Justice Station for my trial, but we should have arrived three days ago. Plenty of time to find a dark corner of empty space where they could ditch my body without being noticed. I’d been told my confinement was for my safety as well as everyone else’s but always suspected the scale tipped slightly in favor of everyone else’s. Looks like I was right.

We finally arrive at our destination. The door hisses open…and it isn’t an airlock. It’s a conference room. A massive blank viewscreen hangs behind a shiny circular table. Paul Margot, my lawyer, sits beside it, balancing his chair on its back legs and playing a handheld video game. Not a care in the world. As usual, an expensive suit and tie drape his gangly old body, and he’s combed his scarce hair to the side to hide the bald patches. The smell of peppermint wafts from him, the odor so strong I swear I see a green menthol cloud looming in the air.

A Japanese man stands with his arms crossed on the other side of the screen. He isn’t wearing the black-armored uniform of the guards but rather the stark white with gold trim of the Aidos crew. He has a dashing gentleman sort of look about him, and the decorations on his shoulder suggest he’s high in rank. But despite whatever power he might have, he’s hesitant to approach me—like I’m a live bomb. And it’s not an unfair comparison. During the Great Human-AI War, many robots were exactly that. Humankind nearly went extinct in that war, so I don’t blame him for handling me with caution.

A million questions pop into my mind at once, but I settle for the most pertinent: “What the hell?”

“Well, hello to you too,” Paul says.

“See?” the Japanese officer says to him instead of me. “She made it just fine. Now, I’m going to have to ask you to step out.”

“Actually, I think I’ll stay. No one talks to my client without me present.”

“I’m not interested in the legal matters concerning your client, Mr. Margot.”

“And I’m not interested in whatever secret sciency things you have onboard this ship.” Paul laughs. “But I stay. Go right ahead. She can be a little snippy though. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I’m so grateful for Paul. I know the things he does are because he wants to win his case, but sometimes I feel like he actually cares about me.

Still. “Is someone going to tell me what’s going on?” I say, louder this time.

“I apologize, Ms. Cussons.” The Japanese officer stares at me with the same stupefied ogle everyone gives me the first time. There’s been a great deal of discussion over what exactly I am—ranging from papers published in scientific journals to angry rants on internet forums—but the term “half-robotic abomination” would seem to apply. I prefer Metal-American. Either way, most people know about Elora Cussons, the illegal cyborg in the news, and when they hear my story, they think of a half-robotic, hideous monster. When they actually see me, it’s never quite what they were picturing. On the outside, I’m a perfectly ordinary, unspoiled, twenty-two-year-old woman from Kauai. My tan skin and long, mud-brown hair are indistinguishable from any of my neighbors’. Although, the red prison jumpsuit isn’t in fashion.

“Do you know who I am?” the man asks after a moment.

“That’s a negative.” I mock his uptight military bearing.

“My name is Hamasaki. I’m captain of the Aidos. I hope you’ve been treated well.”

“Mm-hm, the brig is simply lovely.”

He clears his throat and straightens his blouse. “I’ll get right to the point, Ms. Cussons. Do you know where we are?”

“You should probably assume I don’t know anything. It’ll be easier.”

“Right. Sorry. This is an unusual situation for me too. We’re parked outside of the Great Compass. A member of our crew is head of research here, and he’s gotten himself into some trouble.”

“Wait, the Great Compass?” Paul cuts in. “I thought research on the Compass was shut down. Some guy died or something last year?”

“Yes, someone did. That’s why our people don’t interact with the technology here anymore. It’s observational study only. At least, it’s supposed to be. Turns out, our guy bit off more than he could chew and was injured a few days ago. We were on our way to pick him up and transport him to the medical facilities on the Minos, which is how we got tagged with giving you a lift. Come to find out, it’s a little more complicated than we thought. He’s inside the core of the Compass itself, which is deadly to biological lifeforms. Going in there was how we lost our crewmember last year, and we can’t risk any more losses by sending in a rescue team. We’ve been scratching our heads since we got here, trying to think up solutions, and one of our people thinks she might have something.”

“You want me to do it,” I conclude. It was easy to follow his story to its inevitable end.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Paul practically bellows. “If you’re trying to force my client—”

“No, nothing like that.” Hamasaki reclaims the reins of the conversation. “No one is forcing Ms. Cussons into anything. But with robotic machines being illegal, she’s our best chance. We’ve had experts in medicine, biology, cybernetics, the whole bit reviewing her files, and everyone agrees. Because she’s more mechanical than biological, if there’s ever been a candidate for safe exposure to the Great Compass, it’s her.” He returns his attention to me. “We wouldn’t ask this of you if we didn’t think there was a high chance of success. We’ve already gotten permission from the council handling your case, and they’ve agreed to push your trial back. But of course, you’re free to refuse. What do you say? Want out of your box? Want to be a hero?”

It’s obvious why he’s asking me himself rather than send a lackey. He’s a salesman. He’s charismatic and energetic, and his good looks don’t hurt either. An excited gleam twinkles in his eye, and I can tell he thinks I’m sold.

I can’t wait to disappoint him.

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Meet the Author

Kristin L. Stamper is a writer of YA and adult science fiction. Her interest in storytelling dates back to her childhood when she brought her ideas to life through play-pretend. Once society had successfully pressured her into knocking that off, writing became her new creative outlet. After high school, she spent seven years as an Information Systems Technician in the US Navy, gaining experience in computers and robotics. Currently, she is the mother of a toddler whose favorite pastime is banging on the keyboard while mommy tries to write.

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