Release Blitz + Giveaway: Clueless Cabot by André D. Michaels

Welcome debut author André D. Michaels and IndiGo Marketing as they promote new friends to lovers release, Clueless Cabot! Learn more about the new novella and enter in $10 NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: Clueless Cabot

Author: André D. Michaels

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: September 16, 2019

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 25900

Genre: Contemporary, LGBT, friends to lovers, first time, hurt-comfort, gay, bi, family drama

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Synopsis

Young gay professional Cabot MacCrae has been in love with his sexy best friend, Lloyd, since high school. They’re in perfect sync on almost everything. The only problem is that Lloyd is straight.

Cabot resigned himself long ago to pining hopelessly. Then Lloyd, a roofer, takes a bad fall and injures his collarbone. When he needs some TLC, there’s no question that Cabot will be the one to nurse his friend back to health. But Lloyd’s scantily clad presence in Cabot’s house brings out Cabot’s old longings.

But when Lloyd’s well-meaning mother and aunt fix Cabot up with a blind date, Lloyd reacts like a jealous boyfriend. Lloyd’s reaction makes Cabot wonder if those longings are as unrequited as he’s always assumed. What if Lloyd has been pining for him all these years? Has Cabot just been clueless all along?

Excerpt

Clueless Cabot
André D. Michaels © 2019
All Rights Reserved

DISH

Half an hour before Club Sandwich closed, Cabot McCrae knew he wasn’t going home with anybody. Once again, he’d sat in the corner, nursing his two drinks, eyeing the crowd for someone, anyone, who might be worth pursuing. And once again, as the ice cubes melted in the glass, he sat and did nothing while the few who drew his interest paired up with others and went off into the night. One or two drinks were sent his way, but the guys who sent them seemed creepy and stalkerish, and Cabot declined as politely as he could.

How the hell do guys find each other?

People talked about what a meat market this bar was, but if so, then Cabot was definitely not USDA Choice beef. Maybe not even leftover bologna.

“Thanks, Hank.” He dropped a five on the bar. Hank gave him a casual salute.

The cute Italian busboy didn’t even meet Cabot’s eye. The burly bouncer barely grunted as Cabot left the club. The darkness and cold, relative silence outside brought relief from the flashing lights, steamy heat, and pounding bass inside.

Cabot got in his car and checked his phone. Ring me, said the text from Lloyd.

At 1:45 in the morning, Cabot wasn’t about to call his best friend. He texted back: In the a.m. Beat, dude.

Immediately, Lloyd texted back. Understood. Hope you made out.

Cabot smiled grimly and started the car to head home. No, I didn’t make out. I never make out. Nobody wants to make out. But he wasn’t going to text that to Lloyd, either.

Lloyd always got lucky at the drop of a hat. He’d slept with more women than Cabot could count. He even juggled several girlfriends at a time, managing somehow to keep them all happy and coming back for more.

Not Cabot. He hadn’t gone on a date in—how many months? And he and good ol’ Rosie Palm were better acquainted than ever before.

The lights of the warehouse district behind him, he pulled into the garage below his apartment complex and parked the car. He sat there for several minutes, running his hands over his face. People tell me I’m cute, he kept repeating in his head. But he sure didn’t feel cute after one of these nights. No one talked to him. No one approached him.

No one wanted him.

His phone buzzed. Another text from Lloyd: Sweet dreams dude.

Back in his apartment, Cabot showered and padded naked into the kitchen. The blue calla lilies he’d bought himself were withered in the vase on the table.

He could have another drink. And unlike drinking at the bar, getting drunk at home wouldn’t make him go home with somebody he’d be embarrassed to wake up next to. Well, unless you counted waking up with yourself.

He virtually never wore clothes around the apartment. Nobody could see in. Nobody came to visit except Lloyd, and Cabot usually remembered to pull on some shorts or sweats when Lloyd visited. And when he didn’t remember, Lloyd didn’t care. Why would he? Lloyd was straight.

And besides, since he didn’t get much sex with anybody else, being a nudist at home gave him easy access to the one man who always enjoyed his lovemaking: himself.

His phone by the door buzzed again. Jesus, Lloyd, give it a rest already.

The text read: Yo dude, call me, man. Really.

Okay, that was scary. Cabot hit the call button.

“Hey,” said Lloyd’s sleepy voice.

“Hey. You okay, bro?”

“Sure. Kinda. No.”

“Okay, that’s three answers. What’s going on?”

“Just flirting with the nurse, man. He says I have to talk to you later.”

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa. You’re flirting with a male nurse? What the hell is going on, Lloyd?”

“What? He’s cute.”

“Uh…you’re straight. What kind of drugs do they have you on?”

Lloyd sighed. “Just c’mon to the ER, man. Central MC. They’ll release me if I have a ride.”

“ER? What the fuck happened?”

“Tell you later. You gonna be my ride?”

“You got it, man. Be there in like five seconds. Four point nine.”

“Thanks, Cab.”

Cabot grabbed his keys and wallet and headed for the door, and then remembered he should probably put on pants. He pulled on a pair of basketball shorts and shoes and grabbed a clean shirt out of the drawer. No waiting for the elevator; he took the stairs.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author

Having held jobs as varied as wedding caterer, IT guru, nanny, construction worker, librarian, historical reenactor, screenplay consultant, and birthday party clown, André now writes poetry, plays, and romances and erotic fiction about men loving men. A lifelong bibliophile, André lives in a renovated 1800s parsonage in Ohio, with a variable number of cats and an invariable number of husband.

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: No Good Men (The Caro Mysteries #1) by Thea McAlistair

Join author Thea McAlistair and IndiGo Marketing as they celebrate the release of No Good Men (The Caro Mysteries #1)! Learn more about the historical romance and enter in the $10 NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: No Good Men

Series: The Caro Mysteries, Book One

Author: Thea McAlistair

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: September 16, 2019

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 65100

Genre: Historical, LGBT, 1930s, Age gap, Historical, Gay, Dark, Mystery, Anxiety

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Synopsis

In 1934, almost everyone struggles to pay the rent, and Alex Dawson is no exception. To support his writing habit, he moonlights with his mentor Donnie as a bodyguard for the mayor. It’s dull work, until the night a handsome, golden-eyed stranger catches his eye–and both his boss and his mentor are killed when his back is turned.

Jobless and emotionally adrift, Alex vows to find the murderer before the corrupt police can pin the blame on him. But he soon discovers he’s in over his head. The golden-eyed stranger turns out to be a mob boss’s cousin, and a suspicious stack of money in Donnie’s dresser leads Alex to discover that his mentor and the mayor were involved in something more crooked than fundraising dinners and campaign speeches. As the death count rises amid corruption, mob politics, and anarchist plots, Alex realizes that the murders aren’t political or even business. This is the work of a spree killer, and Alex and his new boyfriend are the only ones who can stop them.

Excerpt

No Good Men
Thea McAlistair © 2019
All Rights Reserved

Mob money could buy a lot, but apparently it couldn’t buy taste. Every single architectural detail of the Ostia struck me as garish: from the chandeliers dripping crystals to the thick wooden accent panels to the gold-painted cherubs carved into the tops of the columns. But my opinion didn’t matter; I was just hired muscle.

The club had opened the previous December—about two seconds after booze turned legal again—and attracted all sorts of upper-class clientele, including my boss, Mayor Roy Carlisle. They called him the White Knight of Westwick, and he ran on the rather ironic platform of driving various ne’er-do-wells out of the city. But again, not my business. My job was to hover just behind him in case something terrible happened. Nothing ever happened though, no crazed attackers or falling pianos. The worst crisis I’d run into in the ten or so months I’d been working for him was a freak rainstorm at a garden party, and I had to hold my jacket over his wife Emma’s head to protect her hair.

Still, it was a dollar a night to stand around, and that was more than other people were getting. The Depression had wiped everyone out, including me. If I hadn’t taken up bodyguarding, I would’ve been thrown out of my room in the boardinghouse faster than I could say eviction. Writing pulp stories wasn’t a lucrative day job, and even less so at the beginning of a career.

Which was why, despite my thoughts on the decor, I was pleased to be at the Ostia. Everyone said they had the best acts in town, and I couldn’t disagree. That night they opened with a pretty, button-nosed redhead. She was French, or at least she had a good enough grip of the language to sing in it. I didn’t know what she was singing about, but it sounded sultry enough as she made eyes at our table.

Carlisle lapped it up, ignorant or indifferent to Emma turning bright pink beside him. She didn’t say anything though. Maybe she’d taken a lesson from other political wives and learned to swallow her pride or risk becoming divorced and destitute. Not that she didn’t deserve to be proud. She was still pretty at thirty-five—ten years Carlisle’s junior—blonde and delicate with huge blue eyes.

She must have gotten her looks from her mother, because her father had the smashed face of a bulldog and towered over even my own six feet. Seated to his daughter’s left that night, Marc Logan also stewed in silence, his hand alternately crumpling the napkins and patting Emma reassuringly on the knee. His own blue eyes, the haunting color of old ice, bored a hole into the side of Carlisle’s head.

Their dinner guest for the evening, Mrs. Green, likewise noticed his glare and apparently decided the best course of action was distraction. “Emma dear, did you see what Miss Kepler was wearing the other night at the Peterson soiree?” she tittered as she coiled the chain for her hanging glasses around a finger.

“Hmm?” Emma turned her head just enough to keep her husband in her peripheral vision. “I’m sorry; what were you saying about the Kepler girl?”

“Her dress!” exclaimed Mrs. Green. “It was scandalous! So low-cut. Anyone would have thought she was selling herself. Her father should never have let her out of the house like that. Don’t you agree, Mr. Logan?”

Logan blinked slowly, no doubt trying to come to terms with the dullness of a conversation centered on someone else’s clothing. “While I have to agree that she was… improperly dressed for the occasion, it is quite difficult for a man to say no to his daughter once she’s gotten her mind wrapped around something.” He glanced at Emma, who smiled weakly.

Mrs. Green continued along the thread of scandalous attire, but I let my attention slip back to Carlisle. Oblivious to the rest of his table, he continued to stare at the French singer. While such behavior wasn’t unusual for him, that night it was so obvious that even I was becoming uncomfortable. I glanced at my watch and suppressed a groan. It was only half-past ten. Donnie wouldn’t be around for another hour and a half.

“Are you feeling all right, Mr. Dawson?”

My attention snapped to Emma. “Yes, ma’am,” I answered, hoping she hadn’t noticed my boredom.

Her mouth quirked like she was in on some joke I didn’t know the punchline to, but she said nothing else. Instead she turned to her father, placed a hand on his shoulder, and whispered something in his ear. He grunted in response. Carlisle didn’t notice the exchange, or maybe didn’t care. Mrs. Green kept nattering away.

The song stopped, and the French girl took a bow. We all clapped, Carlisle too enthusiastically, and Emma barely at all. The girl swept off the stage to a table off the wing for a break, and she was replaced by a dark-haired woman with too much makeup. The new woman sang with a rough alto voice, occasionally throwing appraising looks at Carlisle, though he didn’t return them. Once the French girl left, his attention had returned to the food. The rest of the table did the same.

With my charges occupied, I took the chance to look over the room again. Nothing out of the ordinary. Diners, waiters, a glossy bar at the back. The maître-de waving through a man who had just entered… I realized I knew the man weaving his way between tables. Donnie was terribly noticeable with a thick, out-of-fashion beard and pocket-watch chain draped across his waistcoat. I looked at my own watch again. It was only eleven.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author

Thea McAlistair is the pseudonym of an otherwise terribly boring office worker from New Jersey. She studied archaeology, anthropology, history, architecture, and public policy, but none of those panned out, so she decided to go back to an early love – writing. She can often be found muttering to herself about her latest draft at completely inappropriate times.

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Blog Tour: Ride the Whirlwind by Jackie North

Happy Release Day, Jackie North! Join her & Vibrant Promotions in celebrating the release of Ride the Whirlwind. Learn more about this time travel romance & read an excerpt too!

Ride the Whirlwind

Jackie North

M/M Romance, Time travel, Historical

Release Date: 09.17.19

Cover Designer - Jay Aheer

Blurb

Soulmates across time. Two hearts, stronger together.

In present day, Maxton is good at finding trouble and bad at everything else. Then he receives a letter from his friend Laurie, who went missing. The letter is dated over one hundred years in the past.

In 1892, Trent Harrington, sheriff of Trinidad, Colorado, cast off by his family, lives a respectable but lonely life, devoid of any closeness. He knows he will be alone forever.

Trying to escape a past that keeps chasing him, Maxton drives south to Mexico. When his car spins off the road, he is swept up in a desert whirlwind, which takes him back in time to the year 1892. There, unused to the laws of the wild west, Maxton gets arrested, and is subject to the terrifying whims of two deputies who can do whatever they want to him.

Sheriff Trent Harrington of Trinidad is tasked with escorting Maxton to Trinidad. The request isn’t unusual, but the young miscreant is. Maxton draws Trent’s heart out of its shell with his flashing green eyes and lush head of hair. It isn’t right. It isn’t natural. It’s illegal. Yet Trent cannot resist the impetuous young man.

As the two men travel through the dry, lonely desert to their destination, will they find in each other the love and companionship they never thought they’d have?

A male/male time travel romance, complete with the scent of desert roses, brilliantly colored sunsets, starlit nights, roast rabbit over an open fire, growing honesty and trust, and true love across time.

Buy Link: http://mybook.to/RideTheWhirlwind

Contains references to Honey From the Lion and Wild as the West Texas Wind but can be read on its own.

Excerpt

Though he very well knew that pride went before a fall, Trent felt quite pleased with himself. He'd managed to purchase two sturdy mounts: Old Sue, a calm-eyed mare who looked pleased to be saddled up and given something to do, and Lathalad, a pinto with remarkable blue eyes, an even more remarkable mostly white coat with a narrow black streak running down the center of his long tail.



He was a beauty for sure, but carried a scar across his breast, which might be the reason he was a tad skittish when he was brought out and trotted around. Trent worried until the man at the stables convinced him the horse could carry a man and supplies easily, that he was built for long rides. As well, Trent caught Maxton looking at the horses, and thought that the gelding was of the appropriate size.



They'd bought supplies of beans, packets of jerky, and, of course, ground coffee. He purchased a coffee pot, two tin cups and bowls, two tin spoons, and a used cutting knife, which he strapped to his right thigh below his gun belt. Whatever meat they needed Trent would shoot along the way.



Trent packed the saddlebags on each horse, showing Maxton how it was done, how to tighten the girth on a saddle, how to adjust the stirrups. How to fasten a pair of canteens across the cantle and tie them tight so they wouldn't knock about and startle the horse. Then he tied his carpetbag behind the saddle on Old Sue, and the two bedrolls behind the saddle on Lathalad.



Maxton followed along with only half of his attention, as his other half seemed to be scanning the horizon on the edge of town where the stable was located. As well, he was making an expression that Trent couldn't quite define, but he thought Maxton felt he was being treated like a fool who didn't know any better. Maybe he did and maybe he didn't, but it was better safe than sorry.



"It's just past noon," said Trent. He took his hat off, wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve, then settled his hat on his head again. "But we can head out now and make our way out into the wild."



Trent smiled, and wondered if he should actually share what he was thinking, but why not? He and Maxton would be together for several days, what harm would it to do admit this one little thing.



"I do love sleeping beneath the stars," he said, now, looking at Maxton as he said it. Testing the waters. "Which is a little foolish, seeing as how if we waited a few days and taken the stage, we'd sleep in a hotel every night."



"I don't mind sleeping under the stars," said Maxton. "Took a class on the constellations once, so I know a lot of them."

Maxton stopped himself from saying more, and shrugged as if it was of no consequence to him. It was the same devil-may-care attitude that he'd carried with him from the moment Trent had laid eyes on him in the cell in Dilia.



Someone had taught Maxton not to care or, if he did, not to let on. Someone had taught him to hide every thought, whether foolish or wise. Someone had taught him to carry himself as though he might be under attack at any given moment.



Trent knew the feeling. Knew what it was like to hide what you were and what you thought. Knew what it was like to be wary and to dance beneath the surface of your own life until you forgot what it was like to breathe fresh air, to hold your head high and be exactly who you were.



Though, as to what Maxton was hiding, Trent didn't know. He wanted to know, though, because there was a fire in that young man's eyes. A soft shy tenderness, which Trent saw as Maxton looked out at the horizon and chewed his lower lip, like he was expecting something to come blasting at him from out of the desert.

Jackie North has been writing stories since grade school and spent years absorbing the mainstream romances that she found at her local grocery store. Her dream was to someday leave her corporate day job behind and travel the world. She also wanted to put her English degree to good use and write romance novels, because for years she’s had a never-ending movie of made-up love stories in her head that simply wouldn’t leave her alone.

As fate would have it, she discovered m/m romance and decided that men falling in love with other men was exactly what she wanted to write books about. In this dazzling new world, she turned her grocery-store romance ideas around and is now putting them to paper as fast as her fingers can type. She creates characters who are a bit flawed and broken, who find themselves on the edge of society, and maybe a few who are a little bit lost, but who all deserve a happily ever after. (And she makes sure they get it!)

She likes long walks on the beach, the smell of lavender and rainstorms, and enjoys sleeping in on snowy mornings. She is especially fond of pizza and beer and, when time allows, long road trips with soda fountain drinks and rock and roll music. In her heart, there is peace to be found everywhere, but since in the real world this isn’t always true, Jackie writes for love.

Website - http://www.jackienorth.com/

Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/jackienorthMM

Pintrest - https://www.pinterest.com/jackienorthauthor/

Twitter - https://twitter.com/JackieNorthMM

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18128460.Jackie_North

Queeromance Ink Author Page -

https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/jackie-north/

Sign Up For My Newsletter - http://eepurl.com/drakS1

Guest Review: Him Improvement by Tanya Chris

The course of true love runs through every neighborhood….

Only one thing stands between Gregory MacPherson II and his dream revitalization project for the gritty neighborhood of Ball’s End: a rinky-dink, run-down used bookstore called Hailey’s Comic. But when master negotiator Mac shows up to make a deal with the owner, he comes face-to-face with quirky, colorful Hailey—unexpectedly good-humored about Mac’s attempted eviction and, also unexpectedly, a hot guy.

Hailey won’t give up his lease, no matter how much money Mac offers. When it comes to consummating their mutual attraction, though, he’s a lot more flexible. Soon Mac has as hard a time prying himself out of Hailey’s bed as he does prying Hailey out of the building. But Hailey doubts Mac’s plans serve Ball’s End’s best interests, and he insists Mac give him a chance to prove his case. If they’re going to build a happy ever after, one of them will have to be remade…

Reviewer: Annery


Do you feel like skipping Halloween & Thanksgiving and diving right into a non-treacly non-Christmas Christmas tale? Look no further than this sweet tale from Tanya Chris. Reminiscent of A Christmas Carol, but without copying it beat for beat, Him Improvement follows a sort of remaking or awakening of Gregory “Mac” McPherson.

Mac is a real estate developer, and his company focuses on rehabilitating underutilized neighborhoods or, as the people who live there might say, paving the way for gentrification. Mac’s current project is in Ball’s End, whose residents are decidedly on the lower-income spectrum, and therefore have been easy to relocate via buyouts, non-renewal of leases, or other methods. The one holdout is Hailey’s Comic, which despite its name, isn’t strictly a comic book store but a rambling used book store. In order to expedite the emptying of this last storefront Mac decides to employ the personal touch and brings himself to 502 Main Street where he meets Hailey Green, the bookstore owner, and it’s basically lights out.

There is a strong element of, if not insta-love, at least insta-lust which quickly morphs into the former, at least on Mac’s part, but I didn’t mind. Refreshingly Mac isn’t conflicted about his attraction to Hailey due to his gender, Mac’s been out as bisexual to his friends and family since college, and the sexual attraction isn’t really ever in question. Hailey likes/wants Mac (a.k.a. Greg to Hailey) and isn’t coy about it. Once Mac starts a relationship with Hailey, he’s not only exposed to Hailey’s views on life, capitalism, and urban planning, but he also gets to meet and spend time with the people of Ball’s End. Lives that were once abstractions in a report are now living, breathing, flesh & blood. This is source of angst in this story. Mac getting to know those who are affected by his company’s projects and Mac wanting to be worthy of Hailey. At heart Mac is a good guy, and he also happens to think that Hailey hangs the moon. This leads him to revise or scrap the way does business in order to embrace the needs of those already living in these areas and not just the new residents his company is hoping to attract.

The story is told from Mac’s P.O.V., and very much centers on Mac continually questioning if Hailey would approve or what would Hailey do? He shouldn’t worry so much. Hailey is also just a good guy trying to do, what he believes is the right thing. To that extent he’s been using the bookstore as community center that covers everything from after-school babysitting to an informal AA meeting place. The only thing he hasn’t been able to do is turn a profit, because he’s terrible at business. Anyway these two men, who on the surface are opposites, make a pretty good whole. I enjoyed that their external appearance didn’t restrict who they were in the bedroom. As usual Tanya Chris delivers realistic relationships full of heat and sensuality. I liked that in spite of their radically different upbringings and likely politics, each man respected where the other was coming from, their goals and motivations.

I’ve only have two quibbles with this story which can absolutely be ignored by everyone else. One is Hailey himself. Granted we know him from Mac’s P.O.V., but he seemed almost too perfect. Also I questioned this decision to plant his flag in a mostly minority neighborhood. I’m not a particularly PC person or at all, but it struck me as a bit of White Savior or White Martyr? I’m not saying his intentions are nefarious or any such thing, far from it, but maybe making the character something other than a white guy looking for purpose amongst underprivileged minorities would’ve sat better. My second quibble is said minorities. Some of them seem to exist to prop up Hailey’s bonafides as do gooder or Mac’s education in social diversity, and the other part had a whiff of the Noble Savage. I’m sure I’m wrong but it did cross my mind.

Of course you can skip my previous paragraph and just enjoy a sweet story about two adults who find a way to live in each other’s different worlds, and enrich each other’s lives because they’ve fallen in love. Isn’t that what we all want in the end?

Merry Early Christmas. xoxo

Blog Tour + Giveaway: Hellion (415 Ink #3) by Rhys Ford

Thanks for joining today's Hellion (415 Ink #3) blog tour stop! Author Rhys Ford shares some history of the star of Hellion, Ivo! Learn about him and don't forget to enter in the giveaway where you could win a $20 Amazon gift card! 

Take it away, Rhys!

Welcome to the 415 Ink Hellion Tour! My name’s Rhys Ford and thank you for stopping by! First off, thank you to all the blogs who participated in this tour and also, a huge shout out to all of the readers who wanted to hear Ivo’s story. It was great being able to write something about the baby of the 415 Ink crew and well, he probably turned out to be the biggest surprise while writing him. So sit back, grab a bit of Ivo’s past on this tour and I hope you’re ready for his debut on Sept 17th!



Today’s Post

Ivo, 16 • Part One
Ivo recognized the wet splat of pig skin when it hit the dining room table. It was a familiar sound and a very familiar smell, having sat through Gus hammering through his own apprenticeship and working with large strips of the moist rind but Ivo hadn’t expected the roll to literally land on his English homework or Mace’s derisive snort when he looked up.

“Bear told me to grab you some,” his older brother said with a smirk. “Said it was time you worked on paying rent.”

“Fuck you,” Ivo replied but his heart wasn’t in the rejoinder. Even rolled up and wrapped up in paper, the pig skin smelled and Ivo poked at the bundle. “How much did you get? This looks huge. You can’t work on it that long, you know.”

“So cut it into pieces and toss them into the freezer. I’m not the guy teaching you. You’ve got a problem with it, talk to Bear. I was just the messenger boy,” Mace muttered, his head now buried in the fridge as he dug around inside its cavernous interior. “What happened to the Chinese food?”

“Luke ate it. There’s pizza on the bottom shelf.” Ivo poked the package again, puffing his cheeks out. “Or you can always make a sandwich. I think there’s pastrami. And jalapeno bologna.”

“Okay, you’re the only sick asshole in this family that likes jalapeno bologna,” he replied. “Hah. There’s a box of fried rice and some orange chicken. Luke didn’t get it all.”

“Sure that’s from last night?” Ivo resigned himself to the pig skin, knowing he was going to have to learn how to work with it before Bear let him ink a human being. “It was Gus’s turn to clean out the fridge this week. Fuck knows how long that’s been in there.”

“Why do you do this to me?” Mace looked mournfully into the containers he’d opened. “I wanted Chinese food. Shit, orange chicken doesn’t come with green stuff in it. I’m going to kill the Goose.”

His English homework was going to have to wait. The pig skin had to be dealt with and fast. After tucking his papers into his text book, Ivo cleaned off the table, wiping it down carefully before laying out a cutting board and a box of Ziploc bags. Figuring his hand would be good enough to measure out the lengths, he undid the butcher paper and stared down at massive roll of rind Mace brought in.

“Dude, this is like… seven back pieces worth here. What the fuck do you think I’m inking?” Ivo turned the roll over, spotting a few breaks in the skin. “There’s about five whole pig skins in here. You think I’m going to start a football factory?”

“I figured you’re going to want a lot so you can practice,” Mace said with a shrug, tucking a piece of pastrami into his mouth, bulging out his cheek. Chewing the meat with his mouth open, he reached for one of the chef knives from the wooden block on the kitchen counter. “I can’t ink for shit but I can help you at least break that shit down. Besides, you’re going to be the best inker in the family. You can’t get there from here if you don’t have your technique down by the time Bear lets you have a stall. So move over and let’s get this shit done. You’ve got some inking to do, little brother.”

Hellion by Rhys Ford

From the moment SFPD Detective Ruan Nicholls meets Ivo Rogers, he knows the tattoo artist is going to bring chaos to his neat, orderly life. A hellion down to the bone, Ivo is someone Ruan not only doesn’t understand, he’s not even sure he needs to. Everything about Ivo is vibrant, brash, cocky, and arrogant, and Ruan wants no part of him.

Or at least that’s the lie he tells himself when he damps down his desire for the social wild child life tosses into his path.

For Ivo Rogers, life revolves around two things—his family and 415 Ink, the tattoo shop he co-owns with his four brothers. His family might be stitched together by their battle scars from growing up in foster care, but their brotherhood is tight—and strong enough to hold Ivo together during the times when he falls apart.

Now Ivo faces a new challenge when he falls for a cop with an old-school mentality on how a man looks and acts. Ruan is the promise of a life Ivo thought he’d never have, but their clashing perspectives threaten any chance of a relationship. Being the family’s hellion makes it easy to be misunderstood, yet Ivo has faith Ruan will not only embrace who he is but love him as well.

Purchase Links
Dreamspinner https://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/books/hellion-by-rhys-ford-10757-b
Amazon https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07RPVN5VR/ref=dp-kindle-redirect?_encoding=UTF8&btkr=1
Kobo https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/hellion-5

Blog Tour
Catch the rest of the tour here. And be sure to enter at each tour stop’s giveaway!
Sept
12 Joyfully Jay
13 Love Bytes
14 (Breathe! It’s almost release day!)
15 The Blogger Girls
16 Boy Meets Boy
17 It’s About the Book

About Rhys Ford

Rhys Ford is an award-winning author with several long-running LGBT+ mystery, thriller, paranormal, and urban fantasy series and is a two-time LAMBDA finalist with her Murder and Mayhem novels. She is also a 2017 Gold and Silver Medal winner in the Florida Authors and Publishers President’s Book Awards for her novels Ink and Shadows and Hanging the Stars. She is published by Dreamspinner Press and DSP Publications.

She’s also quite skeptical about bios without a dash of something personal and really, who doesn’t mention their cats, dog and cars in a bio? She shares the house with Harley, a grey tuxedo with a flower on her face, Badger, a disgruntled alley cat who isn’t sure living inside is a step up the social ladder as well as a ginger cairn terrorist named Gus. Rhys is also enslaved to the upkeep a 1979 Pontiac Firebird and enjoys murdering make-believe people.

Rhys can be found at the following locations:
Blog: www.rhysford.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/rhys.ford.author
Twitter: @Rhys_Ford
On Your Alexa device on the Alexa Skills at: https://www.amazon.com/Witlingo-Rhys-Ford-Casting/dp/B07N7MJ7C8/

Giveaway

Enter to win a $20 USD Amazon gift certificate at each blog post! Five stops on the tour! Five gift certificates to win!

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Giveaway ends September 23rd, 2019 midnight EST ~ please respond within 48 hours of responding winning email or unfortunately a new winner will be chosen.

Blog Tour + Giveaway: Hurricane Dreams (Southern Seduction #4) by Julia McBryant

Author Julia McBryant and Other Worlds Ink visit on the Hurricane Dreams (Southern Seduction #4) blog tour! Learn more about the contemporary romance and enter in the giveaway to win a $20 Amazon gift certificate or eBook copies of It’s Enough, Like Sunshine, and Slow Dance!

Julia McBryant has a new MM contemporary book out: "Hurricane Dreams."

Audie Currell, the only son of one of the richest families in Charleston, runs off from his parent's wine tasting with his father's business associate's son, Calhoun Chatterton, another well-off teenager from Savannah. They start dating in secret. But Audie's abusive childhood stands in the way of an authentic relationship — as does their family's homophobia. They have to hide their relationship while coping with Audie's trauma. Can two naive teenagers manage such a difficult task?

Series Blurb:

The Southern Seduction series chronicles the interconnected lives of a group of well-off, high society young adults in Savannah, Georgia, most of whom have known each other since kindergarten. Their complicated relationships (and unconventional sexcapades) form the meat of the series, along with a careful attention to chronology, character, and prose. More than romantic erotica, the Southern Seduction series details a fully realized world of drama, theme, and most of all, memorable characters.


Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CAN | QueeRomance Ink | Goodreads

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Giveaway

Julia is giving away a $20 Amazon gift certificate with this tour, as well as eBook copies of It’s Enough, Like Sunshine, and Slow Dance. Enter via Rafflecopter:

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Excerpt

“God, I fucking love your car. You’re super hot and you come with a Porsche Carrerra. Jesus, Audie. Are you seriously real?”

“Are you?” Audie laughs and tucks Calhoun’s hair behind his ears. He still can’t believe the things he says to Calhoun every goddamn day. Audie never imagined using words like these with another person. You don’t hand your heart to someone else. As soon as you do, you know it’s going to shatter one day. It reminds him of a hurricane slamming down the Carolina low country, Hugo or another big one: you can’t stop the storm from coming. You can only close the shutters and pray the seawall holds.

Audie tries to catch Calhoun’s hand when they get to the restaurant, but his boyfriend shakes his head. “We can’t.”

“Not at all?” Audie asks.

“No. But we can go out to Tybee.”

Calhoun seems to relax with the change of scenery. Audie thinks some alcohol helps too. It helps Audie. Always has, since he was fifteen years old. He doesn’t share that with Calhoun. Some things you just don’t tell anyone. Like, my daddy belted me bloody. Or, his business partner’s daughter Easter stood there terrified while it happened. And that’s why I bought bourbon the first time.

You don’t say it. The same way you don’t talk about high school.

The Savannah heat slams them when they come out of the restaurant. “Been hitting like, a hundred this week,” Calhoun says. “At least Tybee has the sea breeze. You really don’t swim at all?”

“No,” Audie says. “But I’ll wade.” Another thing you don’t say: why you don’t swim. My daddy marooned me in a pontoon boat when I was eleven because he said I had to get over my fear of bull sharks. Told me to swim over to his boat and we could go home. It took me four goddamn hours to get the courage to do it and it was the worst thing in the world and I will never get in the ocean again ever. You say: I have this shark phobia. Can’t shake it, sorry. You can tell the truth without telling it. You can come close to a thing without touching it at all.

Calhoun directs him down East Bay Street onto the highway. They leave the windows down and let the wind whip their hair, Audie’s into a curly froth, Calhoun’s into mermaid tangles. Audie blasts the Charleston band Jump, Little Children, who Calhoun’s never heard and Audie’s seen a million times. “They’re really good,” Calhoun yells over the wind and the music, between bites of the black licorice he dug out of his bag. Audie had laughed when he unearthed it. “We should go see them sometime.”

Audie snorts. “Maybe if they play Columbia,” he shouts. “Not seeing you in Charleston again. Stupid. Just have to act like friends.”

“Same in Savannah.”

“Should say we chartered a boat in Pauley’s Island or Georgetown next time with some friends. Maybe the Outer Banks. I could even summon up some friends if we needed.”

“Me too.”

“Say we went fishing and picked up girls. Send pictures of fish and girls to our daddies.” Audie laughs even though it’s not funny and he’s not joking and Calhoun nods.

Calhoun’s Tybee house sits on the water, huge and modern, all sleek lines. “I love this house,” Calhoun says as they park underneath it.

“Hate that hurricanes’ll always take a beach house,” Audie says. “Hate it for our Folly house.”

Calhoun looks at him kind of strange. “I guess.”

They walk hand-in-hand, bags slung over their shoulders, up the stairs. Calhoun shuts the door behind them and Audie has him against the wall. “This okay now that we’re at the beach?” he says, intentionally talking right into Calhoun’s ear.

“Yeah,” Calhoun breathes. “Doesn’t matter in this house.”

Audie moves his leg between his boyfriend’s thighs. “Because I want you real bad.” He knows Calhoun likes it when he talks to him.

“Want you too.” Audie feels him stiffening.

Audie kisses him hard, like before, but his time braces himself against the wall and pins Calhoun against it completely. His boyfriend thrusts against him. God, Audie loves this. He loves that Calhoun loves this. He moves slightly so their cocks rub against each other through their thin shorts. Their belts clink and it’s somehow one of the hottest sounds Audie’s ever heard. He breaks off the kiss and moves to Calhoun’s ear again. “Go into the bedroom,” he says, “And get your fucking clothes off. I missed you and I want you.” Audie’s pretty sure Calhoun wants him to talk like this, and he wants to talk to Calhoun like this, and he thinks he can get away with it.

He knows he can when Calhoun sort of sucks in a breath and moves on him. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, Audie.”

Calhoun leads him into a big room with a king-sized bed. He strips. Audie rummages in his bag and takes out what they need, then takes his own clothes off. Calhoun watches. Audie knows his boyfriend’s watching, but when he looks up, Calhoun drops his eyes. Audie hopes he doesn’t fuck this up. They’ve only done it twice, once the afternoon in his beach house and once the next morning, which makes a total of two times Audie’s ever had sex in his entire life. Calhoun doesn’t know that and Audie isn’t telling.

“Get on the bed,” Audie orders. God, he’s wanted to say things like this his whole life. Every time, he gets bossier and bossier and Calhoun loves it more and more. Obediently, his boyfriend pulls down the bedspread and sheets, climbs into bed and waits for Audie. Who takes his goddamn time getting over there. Calhoun looks too good lying on his side, watching Audie with those big eyes and a hard cock. He messes with it a little, which makes everything better.

---

Author Bio



Julia McBryant is, as the saying goes, Southern born, Southern bred, and when she dies, she’ll be Southern dead. When she’s not riding her horse or writing, Julia likes to play with her German Shepherds and rescued greyhounds, make all the crafts (especially those involving glitter), and hike, especially in the North Carolina mountains. She is grateful her husband tolerates both the dogs and the glitter.

However, she spends most of her time writing like tomorrow won't arrive, like she needs it to survive, every second she's alive, etc. (see Hamilton for details). She also lives to sing in the car, especially David Bowie.

Author Website: https://www.juliamcbryant.com
Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/juliamcbryant
Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/authorJuliaMcBryant/
Author Twitter: http://www.twitter/juliamcbryant/
Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/julia_mcbryant/
Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/19186436.Julia_McBryant
Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/julia-mcbryant/
Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Julia-McBryant/e/B07S838TFX

Blog Tour: Kel's Keeper by K.C. Wells

Welcome author K.C. Wells & Vibrant Promotions who are here today promoting Kel's Keeper. Find out more about this Daddy/boy contemporary romance & read an excerpt too!

Kel's Keeper

KC Wells

M/M Romance, Daddy/boy, Age gap

Release Date: 09.01.19

Cover by Meredith Russell

Photographer by Ben Fink

Models: Adam Keith and Joe Ryan

BLURB
When Kel Taylor’s life changes irrevocably, he finds himself alone in the world. He might have rebelled a little against his parents, but that didn’t mean he was ready to lose them. Unable to cope with his grief and feelings of guilt, he turns to booze, but before he hits rock bottom, someone dives into the murky waters to save him.

Luc Bryant watched Kel grow from the little kid whose football broke a pane in his greenhouse, into the sexy young man who sent heat racing through him. That was when Luc stopped watching and distanced himself, because he didn’t want to be that kind of a man. And that’s how things continued, until he saw to what depths the boy had sunk. Luc will be damned if he’ll let Kel kill himself. What Kel needs is a friend, and Luc’s shoulders are plenty big enough to bear his burdens.

Kel doesn’t need a friend. He needs a pair of strong arms to hold him, a broad chest to curl up against, someone to listen to him, someone who cares for him… and a whole lot more.
What he needs is a Daddy.
He just doesn’t know it yet.

A stand-alone book that contains an age gap relationship between a sexy daddy and a virgin.

Amazon US

Barnes and Noble

EXCERPT

The time for worrying about Kel had long past. Luc had to do something.

After the funeral, he’d kept his promise and checked in on the boy regularly, and at first it had looked like Kel was coming through this. At least, Luc assumed he was. He didn’t get to see Kel all that much, but their brief conversations over the property boundary were proof that Kel was alive and well, if looking a little thin.



Then the conversations dwindled, as did the phone calls. Kel politely refused Luc’s invitations to eat with him. He refused Luc’s offers of assistance. And lately there had been far too many occasions when Kel didn’t answer his phone. No reply to texts. When Luc had ventured across to knock at the door, there had been no answer. Of course, he could have been out, but somehow Luc doubted that. When April gave way to May, Luc’s disquiet increased.



There were signs of life at the house next door, however. Walmart trucks came and went, and more than once, Luc dashed out to catch Kel before he closed the front door, but he was never fast enough.



Almost as though the boy was avoiding him, which if it were true, would be extremely ironic.



The day arrived when Luc wasn’t content to sit back anymore and wait for something to happen. It was time for the last resort—and that meant Christine’s spare key, the one he’d never gotten around to giving back to Kel. Thank God.



Luc grabbed it from the hook in the kitchen where he kept his keys, and went out of the house. Kel’s car was in the driveway, and judging by the state of the ground beneath it, Kel hadn’t moved it for a while. That only added to Luc’s sense of foreboding.



He went around to the front door, not bothering to ring the bell. After weeks of his knocks going unanswered, there seemed little point. Luc inserted the key into the lock, praying there wasn’t a chain attached on the other side. Thankfully, the door opened, and Luc stepped quietly into the silent interior. He peered into the sitting room, then the dining room, but there was no sign of Kel. When he entered the kitchen, the sight was enough to stop him in his tracks.



Dishes were piled high on every countertop. The dishwasher door was open, and Luc peeked inside. It was full of dirty dishes. The sink was full too, and the trash looked like it hadn’t been taken out for weeks.



Luc noted the pizza boxes and take-out cartons. At least he’s eating something. It was only when he took a closer look at one corner of the kitchen that the full extent of the situation hit him.



Bottles. Lots and lots of empty bottles. And most of it was the hard stuff, Luc was dismayed to see. There were empty cans and bottles of hard cider, and bottles of wine too. It appeared as if Kel had drunk his way through the contents of a bar.



Dear God, what state is he in, if he’s drunk all that?



Luc checked the rest of the first floor, but there was still no sign. He paused at the foot of the stairs, his nostrils flaring. The smell of stale alcohol was very noticeable. Luc mounted the stairs, his heart pounding. This is not good. This is way worse than I thought. Already he was kicking himself for not charging in sooner.



When he reached the door to Kel’s room, Luc paused, steeling himself for whatever lay beyond it, and praying fervently that the boy hadn’t choked to death on his own vomit. He pushed open the door and heaved an internal sigh of relief at the sight that awaited him.



Kel was in his bed, only the top of his head visible above the comforter, but he was clearly breathing. The room was in semidarkness, and the reek of alcohol was at its strongest, accompanied by the smell of stale sweat. Luc crossed the floor, put his hand to the lump beneath the covers, and gave Kel a light shake.



Nothing.



Luc gave him a stronger shake, and Kel’s groggy voice shattered the quiet. “Wha?”



“Kel,” Luc said urgently. “It’s Luc.”



“Go ’way.”



Like Luc was going to do that. “No, I’m not going anywhere. Remember?” He slowly drew back the comforter, only to have Kel seize it from him and pull it back over himself. Half-closed brown eyes regarded him with incredulity.



“How’d you get in here?”



“I have a key. You mom gave it to me. Remember, she asked me to check on the house?”



Kel propped himself up on his elbows, and the comforter slid lower, revealing…



Well, I certainly didn’t expect that.



Kel had a tattoo, a pattern of black swirls and spikes that covered his right shoulder, his pec and came halfway down his upper arm. There was also a lot more body hair than Luc had been prepared for. Before Luc could utter another word, Kel set his jaw. “I want it back, then I want you to leave.”



Luc slowly shook his head. “No. You need help.”



Kel’s eyes blazed, and he sat bolt upright. “You. Need. To. Go. Now.”



“And let you keep doing this to yourself? Kel, you’re better than this.”



Kel’s jaw dropped, then he snapped it shut. “You need to go,” he repeated through gritted teeth. “I don’t want you seeing me like this. I’m a pathetic excuse for a human being. Help me? You couldn’t help me. I’m a hopeless case. I’m worse than useless.”



Luc’s stomach turned over. What the fuck had happened? “I have no idea where all this is coming from,” he said, doing his best to keep his voice even. “I know you, Kel. You’re nothing like the person you just described.”



Kel stared up at him, a dazed look in his eyes, his mouth open. “Know me? You don’t know me! Even my parents didn’t know me!” His chest rose and fell rapidly, his breathing harsh and staccato. “If they did, they’d have shunned me for the abomination that I am.”



Abomination? “Kel, I—”



“I was not a good son!” Kel yelled, the cords of his neck standing out. “And if they’d seen into my heart, they’d have been horrified. I went against their teachings.” He brought his left hand down hard on his right pec, wincing. “This. This would have given them so much pain, and I still had it done, knowing that.” His eyes glistened. “And there was worse than this. So many things I wanted to tell them, but I couldn’t, because they’d have been so damned disappointed in me. And now it’s too late. They’re never going to know what I’m really like. And I can’t bear that.” Tears spilled over his cheeks, his shoulders shook, and he sobbed.



Luc knew what he was seeing. In an instant, he sat on the bed, drew back the comforter, and pulled Kel into his lap, his arms around him. It was no surprise when the boy threw his arms around Luc’s neck and buried his face in Luc’s chest, his knees up to his chest, harsh sobs racking his body. “It’s okay,” Luc whispered. “Let it out. It’s all right to let it out, Kel.” Hot tears soaked into his shirt.



“I… can’t… stop… it from… hurting…” Kel choked out between sobs.



“It’s supposed to hurt.” Luc held onto him, one arm around his back, the other around his legs, cradling him, aware of the tremors that jolted through Kel’s frame. “This is grief. You’ve held on to your emotions so tightly, but now you have to let go.”



Kel’s sobs increased in volume and frequency, and Luc remained silent, gently rocking him in his arms, a weeping young man dressed only in his briefs, curled up against Luc’s chest and clinging to him. Luc’s arms were full to capacity: Kel might have been shorter than him, but he’d obviously been working out at some point. Little by little the tears subsided, and Kel’s breathing became less erratic. Luc brought his rocking to a halt, his nose buried in Kel’s hair. Finally, Kel moved gingerly, as though embarrassed by his position.



Luc let go, and Kel sat on the bed beside him. He sniffed, then wiped a hand across his eyes. “I’m sorry.”



“You have nothing to apologize for. If you knew how long I’ve been waiting for you to show some emotion over their deaths….” Luc stroked Kel’s hair. “It’s perfectly normal. And nothing to be embarrassed about. Although….” Luc wrinkled his nose.



Kel swallowed. “I guess I smell a bit ripe, huh?”



“Just a little,” Luc lied. “Nothing a good shower wouldn’t put right. If you think you can stay upright for that long. You might be a little shaky on your legs.” He stood, and held out a hand to Kel, who took it and pulled himself to his feet. Luc watched him anxiously. “Well?”



Kel expelled a long shuddering breath. “I can manage a shower.”



Luc nodded in approval. “And while you’re doing that, I’ll go downstairs and make you something to eat.” He cocked his head to one side. “That’s assuming there’s food in your kitchen. Edible food.”



Kel bit his lip. “Yeah, about that…”



Luc rolled his eyes. “Get washed. I’ll go to my place and raid the refrigerator. Take as long as you like.”



For the first time since Luc had entered his room, there was a flash of the old Kel. “Is that Luc-speak for ‘you stink’?”



Luc laughed. “Shower, dirty boy. Then I’ll feed you. And then… we can talk.” He felt a good deal lighter. That had been a cathartic moment, and while Kel still had a way to go, the outlook was hopeful.



What puzzled him were a couple of things Kel had said. At this point Luc wasn’t sure if he was going to leave them for now, or bring them out into the open. Because sooner or later, they had to talk about them.

K.C. Wells started writing in 2012, although the idea of writing a novel had been in her head since she was a child. But after reading that first gay romance in 2009, she was hooked.

She now writes full time, and the line of men in her head, clamouring to tell their story, is getting longer and longer. If the frequent visits by plot bunnies are anything to go by, that’s not about to change anytime soon.

If you want to follow her exploits, you can sign up for her monthly newsletter: http://eepurl.com/cNKHlT

You can stalk – er, find – her in the following places:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/KCWellsWorld

https://www.facebook.com/kcwells.WildWickedWonderful/

KC’s men In Love (my readers group): http://bit.ly/2hXL6wJ

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6576876.K_C_Wells

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/default/e/B00AECQ1LQ

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/k.c.wells/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/K_C_Wells

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/k-c-wells

Newsletter : http://eepurl.com/cNKHlT

Blog: http://kcwellsworld.blogspot.com/

Website: http://www.kcwellsworld.com/

Release Blitz + Giveaway: Fated Hearts (Shadow Bound #1) by Garrett Leigh

Join author Garrett Leigh & Signal Boost Promotions in celebrating the release of Fated Hearts (Shadow Bound #1)! Find out more about this paranormal romance & enter in the giveaway to win a backlist ebook from the author!

Buy Links: Amazon US | Amazon UK | Universal Link - Exclusive to Amazon and Available to Borrow with Kindle Unlimited.

Length: 60,000 words approx.


Cover Design: Black Jazz Design


Blurb


"He's not a wolf."


Devastated by the death of his best friend, Zio is a soldier with one thing on his mind: revenge. Consumed by a conflict that's raged as long as he's been alive, he's had little time or inclination to learn the legends of the shifter world he was raised in. And he certainly doesn't have time to deal with a shifter of a different kind, even if it's for the good of the war effort. For the good of his pack. The fact that he's already crossed paths with the new face in his unit is almost irrelevant.


Almost.


Do no harm. Give life not death: it's the oath Devan was reborn to live by, so when he's sent abroad to embed with a wolf pack as their resident healer, he doesn't hesitate. In the supernatural world, some bonds are instant--soldiers become brothers, pack become family. But others run deeper and before long, Devan's at the mercy of instincts he can't control. Zio's inner wolf is desperate to be with Devan, while Devan struggles to keep the pack safe. But as the war escalates, and new love is tainted by anguish and pain, the battles within might prove the toughest of them all.


"I won't let him die."

Garrett Leigh is an award-winning British writer and book designer, currently working for Dreamspinner Press, Loose Id, Riptide Publishing, and Fox Love Press.


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


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


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


Website: http://www.garrettleigh.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/garrettleighauthor/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Garrett_Leigh

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