Giveaway + Blog Tour: Shots on Goal (Stick Side #3) by Amy Aislin


Author Amy Aislin & A Novel Take Promotions are here today to promote the release of the third in the popular sports romance series, Stick Side. Find out more about Shots on Goal below, read an exclusive excerpt & enter in the giveaway for a signed paperback from the author's backlist! Good luck!

Thank you for joining me to celebrate the release of my newest m/m sports romance, Shots on Goal (Stick Side #3), and thank you to Boy Meets Boy Reviews for having me!
Today, I’m sharing an exclusive excerpt from Shots on Goal. Check it out below!
***

Title: Shots on Goal

Author: Amy Aislin

Series: Stick Side #3

Publisher: self-published

Release Date (Print & Ebook): January 7, 2020

Length (Print & Ebook): 84,600 words | 330 pages

Genre: contemporary/new adult romance

Tropes: opposites attract, made family

Cover artist: Natasha Snow

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Book blurb:

Recently traded to the newly formed Vermont Trailblazers, professional hockey player Roman Kinsey needs to focus on helping the team win games and filling the stands, not on the blond, bespectacled part-timer who works at the library he volunteers at. He knows all too well that outing himself equals heartache and ridicule…or worse.

Cody Evans, psych major and grad school hopeful, notices everything and thinks too much. But he doesn’t know what to think when he sees Roman reading to kids. The rugged hockey player just doesn’t look like the type. But it stirs something in him, something he’s never felt before.

When the library is threatened with closure, Cody enlists Roman’s help. As they get to know each other better...much, much better...they realize that they have more in common than books. But Roman’s keeping a big part of himself from his team, and giving in to his feelings for Cody might be more than he’s willing to risk.

Exclusive Excerpt
It was after Cody had picked out a blue-and-black checkered flannel shirt as a belated birthday present for Mitch and they were walking out of The Vermont Flannel Company that his dad said, “So? Got a girlfriend?”
Cody coughed once, the cloth bag housing his purchase hitting him in the knees as they walked. “Uh, no.”
His dad side-eyed him. “Boyfriend?”
“No?”
“You don’t sound so sure about that one.”
“No, no. I’m sure. No boyfriend.”
“Okay.” His dad paused for a second, then, “Because you know it’d be okay, right? If you were gay.”
Oh Jesus. Fuck his life. Of course they were having this conversation on a busy Saturday in the marketplace. What had even made him ask? Maybe his mom had said something?
“I’m not,” Cody said, resigned to his fate. “I’m demisexual.”
“Huh. That’s a new one. What’s it mean?”
A familiar face in the crowd drew his attention. “Roman!” He sounded slightly unhinged.
Roman turned his way and yelled, “Cody!” in the same deranged voice, and Cody laughed more than was strictly necessary.
God help him.
“What are you up to?” Cody asked when he and his dad drew near.
Roman held up both hands, covered in a pair of thick, black gloves. “Finished my winter-gear shopping.” He looked good in his winter gear, in that puffy, black coat he’d bought last weekend and with Cody’s scarf around his neck. A dark-gray beanie covered his head and the tops of his ears. “What brings you out?”
“My dad and I had lunch,” Cody replied and made introductions between his dad and Roman.
“It’s good to meet you, sir.”
“Likewise,” his dad said. “I was starting to think that Mitch was Cody’s only friend.”
Cody gritted his teeth, feeling judged to the tips of his soles. He had other friends. Just that Mitch was his favorite.
“Do you go to school with Cody?”
They ambled down the street, Cody behind his dad and Roman like the third wheel on a first date. He didn’t notice his shoulders were up to his ears until Roman reached back, grabbed his wrist, and drew him up next to him with a squinty-eyed look that said You belong up here, dummy.
“No,” Roman said, answering his dad’s question while Cody went all gooey inside. “I volunteer at his library.”
They chatted for a few minutes, and when his dad said, “What do you do, Roman?” and Roman said, “I play hockey for the Vermont Trailblazers,” and his dad said, “What’s that?” Cody couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Dad’s not a hockey fan,” Cody informed Roman.
“I prefer football,” his dad said.
Roman said, “Oh,” and silence descended for a few breaths. Then Roman said, “What about golf?” And his dad started talking about his favorite course in his corner of Texas.
Cody’s own gloved hand bumped Roman’s, and it took all of his willpower not to take it in his, to walk hand-in-hand as if they were a couple. That’d be so nice: the two of them, taking a casual afternoon stroll through the marketplace, doing some window shopping, stopping to grab a coffee and a pastry and a quiet chat at one of the coffee shops. Going home afterward to cook dinner together. Watching a movie on the couch, maybe making out like hormonal teenagers during part of it. Not for it to lead to sex, but because they wanted to be close to each other.
He was ripped out of his fantasy when Roman said, “Anyway, it was nice to meet you, Mr. Evans. I’ll let you two get on with your day.”
Cody made his eyes big and stared at Roman, hoping his expression conveyed S.O.S.!
“Or,” Roman said, drawing the word out. “Can I treat you both to a coffee?”
“I could get out of the cold for a few minutes,” Cody said, turning his big eyes on his dad.


Reviews: 
"With lots of hockey, delicious food, and the sweetest couple ever, Amy Aislin scores a hat trick with Shots on Goal." — Kelly Jensen, award-winning author of Block and Strike
"Shots on Goal is a great wintertime read. Like a warm blanket and a mug of hot chocolate! Huddle up by the fire and enjoy this cozy story!" — Allison Temple, author of The Seacroft Stories series
“I love hockey romance, and this book delivered all the romance I needed alongside awesome hockey.” — RJ Scott, USA Today bestselling author 
“I'm already a big fan of Amy Aslin's Stick Side series, so I was thrilled to get an early read of Shots on Goal. Cody and Roman's story didn't disappoint. Shots on Goal is the perfect blend of the beloved sports and small-town romance tropes. Roman's gruff, strained interactions with his ice hockey team play well against Cody's heartwarming relationship with his fellow library lovers. As these two men inadvertently team up to help save the historic library, Roman realizes there just may be someone worth opening up to, and at the same time, Cody learns that sometimes falling in love brings with it tough choices. Shots on Goal is a strong addition to Aislin's delicious world-building surrounding the sexy, competitive world of hockey. We get to visit old friends from previous books, but it is not necessary to have read them to enjoy Shots on Goal.” — Lucy Lennox, Bestselling author
From Amy Aislin:
Shots on Goal is a novel about taking risks, about putting yourself out there, even though history says it could end in disaster.
Author Information: 


Amy's lived with her head in the clouds since she first picked up a book as a child, and being fluent in two languages means she's read a lot of books! She first picked up a pen on a rainy day in fourth grade when her class had to stay inside for recess. Tales of treasure hunts with her classmates eventually morphed into love stories between men, and she's been writing ever since. She writes evenings and weekends—or whenever she isn't at her full-time day job saving the planet at Canada's largest environmental non-profit.
An unapologetic introvert, Amy reads too much and socializes too little, with no regrets. She loves connecting with readers. Join her Facebook Group to stay up-to-date on upcoming releases and for access to early teasers, find her on Instagram and Twitter, or sign up for her infrequent newsletter here.
Website: https://amyaislin.com/  
Twitter: https://twitter.com/amy_aislin 
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/ddvWFv  
Amazon: http://amazon.com/author/amyaislin     
Release blitz giveaway: Winner’s choice of ONE signed paperback from Amy’s backlist! 



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**The Nature of the Game (Stick Side #2) is on $0.99 sale from January 7-13, 2020!**

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Review: Peter Cratchit's Christmas Carol by Drew Marvin Frayne

Peter Cratchit, a young lad preparing to make his way in the world, is the eldest son of Scrooge’s lowly clerk Bob Cratchit. Peter flourishes under the tutelage of his “Uncle” Scrooge and seeks to make his mark as a man of business, like his uncle before him.

One Christmas Eve, as Scrooge lays dying, Peter embarks on a risky ocean voyage that he believes will secure the future for his family. Onboard, Peter finds love, happiness, and success, only to lose it all by the voyage’s end.

Returning to London, Peter shuns his family and instead finds himself living on the streets, haunted by his failures and his dead lover, selling his body just to survive while he waits for the winter cold to claim him once and for all. But winter snows also mean Christmas is coming, and for the Cratchit family, Christmas is a time of miracles. Can a visit from three familiar spirits change Peter’s life again? Is there one more miracle in store for the lost son of one of Dickens’ most enduring families?


Drew Marvin Frayne did a cracker job of taking the threads of a Christmas Carol and reweaving them into Peter Cratchit’s tale. The story was familiar enough to fall into easily, but then took a hard left into something completely unique.

This is definitely not Scrooge’s story, but he does have a strong influence as a man who has redeemed himself and turned from a miserly man to an “uncle” and benefactor to not only his family, but the the Cratchit family as well. Under Scrooge’s tutelage, Peter has learned the mechanics of business and wants nothing more than to provide for his entire family.

Well, as we’ve all heard, the road to hell is paved with good intentions and Peter is basically made up of good intentions from stem to stern. And he has the kind of good intentions that are laced with a good dose of hubris that can only be afforded to the young. His drive to provide for his family sent him around the world, into the arms of a wonderful man and ultimately to heartbreak and ruin.

And while Peter Cratchit’s Christmas Carol does have an ‘epic journey’ type flavor, it’s ultimately a story about redemption. Peter has a comfortable life with a loving family, he wants to cement their future in comfort and along the way he negotiates all the wins and meets the love of his life. Through betrayal he loses everything, including himself. He blames himself, understandably so, even though that blame isn’t well placed. He’s given up and the description of his life on the streets is heartbreaking. He tells his story with a disconnected air and his voice makes his tale even more bleak and sad. Add to that, Peter is a bit of a fatalist in his views, so he has a lot to overcome and learn.

It wouldn’t be a Christmas Carol without ghosts who make it all worse though, so enter the ghosties! I liked reading his history through his visions and his Uncle Scrooge always told him he wasn’t seeing the nuances of what was in front of him, instead Peter saw what was happening literally and through the lens of a slightly self centered young man. That’s not a dig by any means, it’s just how the very young work (in general) and Peter had to fall and get the three part ghost tour to see that. Uncle Scrooge was a very wise man.

As the story progressed Peter learned that there was so much more to everything he assumed and the ghosts opened his eyes and reading Peter’s epiphany felt so good. There was an air of hope that grew as the story progressed, it was subtle, but it was there. There was still plenty of pain for Peter to go through, but the ghosts kept coming, and they showed him the good and the bad, reminiscent of his Uncle’s Christmas Carol, and we all know how that turned out. Good things were to come.

The resolution was perfect, satisfying but not so perfect that it cheapened the journey. Peter was made whole and he grew exponentially. The romance may not have been center stage as such, but that doesn’t mean that it wasn’t a driving force for Peter. The resolution there was bittersweet, but oh so good at the same time. I do love the different takes on a Christmas Carol, from the classic, to the Muppets, to Bill Murray to Guy Pearce, but I have to say, Peter Cratchit’s is my new favorite.



**a copy of this story was provided for an honest review**

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Love on the Spectrum by Alec Nortan


Celebrate the release of Love on the Spectrum with author Alec Nortan and IndiGo Marketing! Discover more about the hurt/comfort romance set in Paris and enter in the $10 NineStar Press credit giveaway!



Title: Love on the Spectrum
Author: Alec Nortan
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: January 6, 2020
Heat Level: 1 - No Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 37900
Genre: Contemporary, LGBT, Contemporary, romance, gay, Asperger syndrome, burns victim, France, Paris, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, therapist

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Synopsis

Hervé has Asperger’s, a specific kind of autism that makes him unable to interact with other people.

Luc has been severely scarred by fire and flees human presence to avert the way people glare and frown when they see him.

It was impossible for them to meet, but life sometimes likes to cheat the odds. Is it just a trick or a way to bring together two men who could be each other’s lifeline?

Excerpt

Love on the Spectrum
Alec Nortan © 2020
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
During their life, everyone meets thousands of people. Some of these encounters are fleeting, like the person you ask for directions in the street, and others last a lifetime. Each of them, as short or as long as it is, can change your life for the better or for the worse.

I’ve encountered maybe two hundred people. And that’s with a generous margin for error. A very generous margin. And yet I’m thirty-four and should have met a lot more. If I haven’t, it isn’t because I don’t want to, on the contrary. If I only consider the meaningful encounters, well, I’m down to a figure I can easily display with my fingers. The last one took place two years ago. His name is Pascal, and he made my life better. A whole lot better. We met through the Internet, the way of getting in touch with people I’m most comfortable with. Taking our time, we got to know each other, and he became an important part of my life. It wasn’t always easy for him, but he managed to accept my difficulties, and for the first time in my life I discovered what being in a relationship was really like. We weren’t quite ready yet to live together, but we were getting close.

And then, six months later, he dumped me. There was no fight, no argument, but it devastated me all the same. My problems had eventually gotten too tiresome for him. He simply couldn’t cope anymore, and I don’t think any less of him for that. Living with someone like me isn’t always easy. Quite the opposite. He had done all he could, but it hadn’t been enough.

My relationship with Pascal helped me understand one thing: I will spend my life alone. I’m not being dramatic; it’s just a simple observation. Even I can’t bear myself at times. If I can’t, who could?

What is my problem? To make it easy to understand, let’s say I am unable to interact with people. It probably sounds stupid put like this, but when sarcasm, irony, implied speech, and body language—well, all those elements that allow a conversation to take place—are completely foreign to you, a simple discussion with another human being can be quite hazardous to negotiate. And if on top of that you really cannot stand physical contact and noise, like me, you’re on a slippery slope toward the deepest pit of hell. I begin to slide as soon as I have to say hello…

When I say I have autism, in a desperate attempt to evade embarrassing situations, here are some of the answers I usually get:

“But it doesn’t show.”

Or

“Can it be cured?”

Or the most common reaction:

“That’s great! Can you count playing cards?”

No, I am not Rain Man, and most of the people who suffer from the same problem—Asperger syndrome—don’t have any kind of superhuman capabilities. And you can’t cure it. It would be like asking a one-legged man if he can be cured. No, it’s just a part of me. That and the fact you can’t see it when you look at me only makes it more difficult for people to understand. A one-legged man doesn’t have to explain that he only has one leg. A white cane or a service dog is usually enough for a blind person to be recognized as such.

I always have to justify myself.

Luckily for me, I’ve been going to a psychologist once a month for years. His specialty is autism, including Asperger syndrome. He helps me learn all those social rules that completely elude my grasp, and cope with my difficulties.

But it’s also because of him I’m standing here.

It’s a fine day. The weather is nice, the street is mostly empty. Although it’s almost noon, a few people pass by, and they walk purposefully, taking no notice of me except to avoid me. I’m standing still, almost stuck to the wall behind me, a white-stone building blackened by years of pollution. The sidewalk is barely wide enough for two people and gives way to a long line of parked cars and then a two-way street. On the other side is the same chain of cars, the same sidewalk, and the same dirty façades.

Despite all this, this part of the city welcomes lots of tourists, but this particular street is a little too far from the main avenues and the famous monuments to get their attention. If it were to be described by a saying, it would be “a secret life is a happy life.” Maybe that’s the reason why I like it. Because it likes to stay hidden. Just like I do. And this is definitely one of the reasons why I’m standing here right now.

The other reason is the small restaurant facing me. I’ve been looking at it for a little while now. The frontage isn’t very long, but a wide French window occupies almost all of it. Painted on the glass, blue letters spell out the words “The Scullion Restaurant–Traditional Cooking”. The text isn’t perfectly centered. It is about three inches too high for that, and the “C” and the “U” of Scullion are slightly too close to each other. The first “T” of Restaurant is also slightly tilted.

I am pretty certain no one else notices these imperfections, but they kind of jump out at me. I wonder if I shouldn’t have chosen another place.

But I’ve thought about this choice for a very long while, and I’ve even had to negotiate bitterly with my psychologist. The objective of the test is simple enough: having lunch at a restaurant. But he knows me too well to stop at such a simple goal. Without any further rules, I would have chosen the worst restaurant in the city, in a deserted part of town, to make sure there would be as few other clients as possible. I would even have gone in the early afternoon, when all the NTs have long since finished their meal—NT is short for Neurotypical, “normal” people as opposed to Aspies, the nickname for people like me with Asperger Syndrome—to have the greatest chance of seeing no one else other than the waiter, which is quite enough for me.

Knowing if he let the reins go I would choose an empty restaurant, which I have to admit would have rendered the exercise moot, my psychologist fought hard until we reached a compromise (more acceptable for him than for me) and chose a popular but small venue and a “normal” lunchtime.

This negotiation took place two days ago, and I’ve been anxious ever since. This morning, I woke up with my insides twisted. I almost broke into tears thinking about having breakfast alone at my place because it reminded me that my next meal would be a trial. When I was about to leave home to come here, instead of opening the door, I was sorely tempted to make sure it was safely locked and go hide in my bedroom under my blankets.

But here I am, in front of the restaurant. Inside, I feel like a gelatinous blob mounted on a drill. I still evaluate the chance of my running away before the time comes to enter at one in two.

I take a look at my watch.

12:58

My psychologist made the reservation—one of his dirty tricks to prevent me from bailing out—for one o’clock. He knows perfectly well I can’t stand lateness (or earliness) or an appointment cancellation without calling beforehand, and, as a consequence, I would never do that to someone else.

12:59

It’s too late to call the restaurant and cancel now. I stifle an emerging sob and move to the pedestrian crossing on my right. There are no cars passing, but I never cross a street elsewhere.

Just like every time I’m nervous, I’m tempted to embrace my old habits again. Right now, this means not stepping on the white paint of the crossing. I don’t know where I got that from, but it took me several sessions and a lot of training to be able to ignore the color of the ground I walk on.

I bite my bottom lip and stare straight in front of me so I can’t see my feet. I reach the other side of the street without further ado and walk the short distance to the entrance of the restaurant.

12:59

13:00

I open the door with a racing heart and step into my worst nightmare: a crowded public place.

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

Meet the Author

Alec Nortan is a French social services worker. Though he learned English at school, he chooses this language to write in. His works are gay-related fictions, varying from young adult, science fiction or fantasy adventure, to romance.

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Boiling Over (Caro Mysteries #2) by Thea McAlistair


Thea McAlistair and IndiGo Marketing promote the new release of Boiling Over (Caro Mysteries #2) from NineStar Press! Discover more about the second book from the historical series and enter in the $10 NSP credit giveaway!


Title: Boiling Over
Series: The Caro Mysteries, Book Two
Author: Thea McAlistair
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: January 6, 2019
Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 73800
Genre: Historical, LGBT, gay, historical, mystery, cozy mystery, age gap, established couple, mental illness, anxiety, PTSD, private detective, New England

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Synopsis

On the run from trumped-up murder charges, Alex Dawson and his boyfriend Sev settle in a small town in Vermont on the recommendation of Sev’s mob-boss cousin Bella. Chickadee is so tiny that it has only one major employer in the depths of the Great Depression: Trask & Co. Maple Sugar Mill. It’s a quiet place. That is, until Walter Trask is found in his own maple grove with his head smashed in.

Alex doesn’t want to have anything to do with the death, but things get much more personal when Bella is falsely arrested. Determined to free her and even the scales, Alex scours the town for clues as to what really happened. He quickly learns that small towns have big secrets that people may be willing to kill for. And if that weren’t bad enough, Alex and Sev’s once-sweet relationship is turning bitter under the combined pressures of isolation, anxiety, and jealousy. Alex needs to find the true murderer quickly before Bella is turned over to the feds, or worse, Sev walks out of his life forever.

Excerpt

Boiling Over
Thea McAlistair © 2020
All Rights Reserved

When Sev first asked me to run away with him, he’d mentioned exotic places like India and Australia, warm countries far away from the seedy city we were living in. It had sounded romantic and wonderful, and when we finally left—well, fled—I had hopes of going somewhere like that. Instead, we ended up in Chickadee, Vermont.

Chickadee was a small town, about a half-hour drive from the Canadian border and about a six-hour drive from our old home in Connecticut. In all my twenty-three years, I’d never set foot in the countryside, and now there was all this empty space. Blue sky. Trees. Cows.

“Bella wants us to stay here?” I asked as I gaped at the maple forest flashing by the car window. “It’s so…rustic.”

“Well, just think, Alex,” grumbled Sev, his faint Italian accent tinged with unease as he guided the rickety borrowed Oldsmobile over bumps on the dirt road, “it’s better than the alternatives, yes?”

Considering the alternatives were dead and arrested for murder, he was right. Less than a month ago, I’d been living my dull life, writing during the day and serving as a bodyguard for the mayor in the evenings, and then all hell broke loose. Now nine people were dead, including my friends Martin and Donnie, and the corrupt cops wouldn’t even think of hearing my side of the story. Targeting the big guy with a chip on his shoulder the size of New England was almost too easy for them.

“It’s pretty here!” chimed Pearl from the back.

I twisted to look at her. She perched on the edge of the seat, her already-large eyes expanded in wonder. Her cat, Daisy, sulked in a metal cage next to her. I still wasn’t sure it’d been the brightest idea to take a six-year-old on the lam with us, but it was too late now. At least she seemed to be enjoying the trip. And why wouldn’t she? She wasn’t the one running from murder charges.

“Bit different from the city, huh?” I asked, careful to keep my voice cheerful for her.

She nodded and returned to staring at the trees.

I slumped back into my seat, grateful she didn’t seem to share my unease.

Sev nudged my arm. “Which road do I take?”

I straightened and peered out the windshield. We were coming up on an intersection, if a split of one dirt track into two could be called that. I scrambled to unfold the map I’d crumpled in my distraction. Sev’s cousin Bella—the most notorious gangster in Westwick—had given us these directions and all our fake identification papers first thing that morning.

Why Bella had chosen Chickadee to hide us from the cops was a mystery. She hadn’t given me a straight answer when I asked, only that she had friends there and Sev would be working with one of them. Most likely the location had something to do with the rum-running routes she’d controlled until about six months ago. While the end of Prohibition had cut the bottom out from under her main moneymaker, there were many other ways to make an illegal living, and why leave when she already had a foot in the door?

“Left,” I said, tracing the hand-drawn line with my finger. “Looks like another mile and we reach town.”

Sev obeyed, taking the left fork. The car turned in a wide arc around yet more trees. Both sides of the road were obscured by underbrush and shadow. Sev swore under his breath in Italian and slowed even more.

“They should clear this,” he muttered. “Someone’s going to get hit one day.”

“Who’s going to get hit?” I answered. “There’s no one out he—”

Sev slammed the brakes as a figure darted from between the trunks. I jolted forward and got the wind knocked out of me as I smacked into the dashboard. Pearl screamed, tumbling into the back of my seat. The rattle of the cat cage almost drowned out Daisy’s yowls.

Blinded by pain, I groped for Sev. “Everyone okay?” I gasped.

He grabbed my hand and squeezed. “Fine,” he said.

Pearl wailed. I turned, ignoring the objections of my bruised ribs. She huddled in the space between the back bench and the front seat, clutching her wrist. My already-pitching stomach dropped. I’d brought her with us to get her away from all the pain in her past, and now here was more. I scrambled out the door and around the back to get her.

“You’re all right; you’re all right,” I mumbled in an effort to convince myself my assurance was true. “Can I see?”

Pearl snuffled and presented her arm. Already her wrist was red and swelling. I held back the curses bubbling in my mind. In a flash of anger, I whipped around to see what jackass had done this.

To my surprise, I only saw a girl straddling a sturdy bike. She was maybe sixteen or seventeen, wearing men’s dungarees and a gingham shirt. Freckles were splattered across her face, and ash-blonde braids draped down her back. She gnawed on her lip, her eyes huge with fear.

“I’m so sorry,” she squeaked. “There’s almost never anyone out here—”

“Alex?” Sev called. He sounded muffled. I looked at the driver’s side door. He had gotten out and had one hand curled around the lower half of his face while the other scrambled in a pocket. “I think I might have been mistaken when I said I was fine.” He pulled out a handkerchief, and I saw both his nose and his upper lip were bleeding.

Fear, anger, and unbidden memories tangled up in my mind, freezing my mouth in one slack-jawed position, keeping me mute.

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Don't miss Book #1 in the Caro Mysteries series, No Good Men, available from NineStar Press


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.

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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Cover Reveal + Giveaway: Fade In (A Tales of Bryant Romance) by V.L. Locey


Author V.L. Locey and Signal Boost Promotions reveal the new cover for upcoming novella from the Tales of Bryant Romance series, Fade In. Discover more and enter in the giveaway for the eBook of Nine Small Sips or Tales of Bryant!




ADD TO GOODREADS

Release Date: January 22 2020

Cover Design: Meredith Russell


 Length: 34,000 words approx.


 Tales of Bryant Series


 Book #1 - Tales of Bryant - Amazon US | Amazon UK | Universal Link

Book #2 - Nine Small Sips - Amazon US | Amazon UK | Universal Link


 Blurb


 Will Devon and Caiden discover that their new love is a wrap after the filming ends?


 Weddings, champagne, and slow dancing. It’s a lethal combination and one that has led film student Devon Maxwell into one awkward predicament. Brought in at the last minute to help his friends Isamu and Brian during their Bryant Park wedding, Devon was not prepared for Caiden Dell to sweep into his life. The spark of attraction between him and the hip film executive was instantaneous. That spark led them right into Caiden’s big bed for a night of pleasure that Devon will never be able to duplicate no matter how many takes life gives him.

 To make things even more complicated, Caiden offers the recently vacated job of office intern to him. He’d be a fool to turn down an offer to work at Budgie in the Dell, the hottest LGBT film production company in the Big Apple. Looks as if Devon’s hopes of working in film are about to come true. He’s ready for days filled with tiring shoots, long hours, and irate actors. He just never dreamed his nights would overflow with passion, laughter, and whispers shared with a gorgeous, older lover.

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


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


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


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