Release Blitz + Giveaway: The Silence of Lightning by Marie S. Crosswell

Join author Marie S. Crosswell & IndiGo Marketing in celebrating the release of The Silence of Lightning. Find out more about this contemporary romance & enter the giveaway to win a $10 Ninestar Press gift code too!

Title: The Silence of Lightning

Author: Marie S. Crosswell

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: October 19, 2020

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 73800

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, contemporary, bisexual, ace, interracial, Wyoming, rodeo, cowboys, in the closet, outing, family, HFN

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Synopsis

Former pro-rodeo champion Smith Rose and his cousins Cooper and Christa Boone live a quiet life together in the town of Cody, Wyoming—until the summer of 2015 shakes them to their foundations.

Stuck in an unhappy rut since his retirement from the rodeo five years prior, Smith is forced to reckon with his past, present, and future when his former friend and lover John Henry Walker shows up at Smith’s bar. Meanwhile, the Boone sisters face a threat they never would’ve predicted when an out-of-town stranger begins to stalk Christa after meeting her at a party. While trying to support her sister and their cousin, Cooper secretly agonizes over her fears of their little family splitting apart and where that would leave her.

When Smith, Cooper, and Christa’s problems converge in a dangerous confrontation, will the three of them survive?

Excerpt

The Silence of Lightning
Marie S. Crosswell © 2020
All Rights Reserved

Cody, Wyoming
Summer, 2015

The three of them sit sprawled in a booth: Smith, Cooper, and Christa. Their table’s littered with beer bottles and the shucked off metal caps. Smith’s got a cooler on the floor alongside his seat because this is his bar and he can do whatever the hell he wants. He opens each beer with the bottle opener on his key ring. His cousins got a pretty good buzz going on, the two of them pink-faced and smiling, leaning into each other. Smith is mellowed out, not drunk. He doesn’t watch the saloon or Georgeanne filling in for him at the bar, just nurses his drink and considers his cousins.

“There is no way in hell I’m riding fifteen hundred miles on the back of a motorcycle,” says Christa.

“Why not?” Cooper whines. “Labor Day weekend, it’ll be beautiful. We won’t see weather that good in between here and Austin until next spring, which is almost a year from now.”

“I wouldn’t go in the spring either. I’m not traveling that far on a bike. Period.”

“You don’t even have to worry about the bike. I’m the one handling it. All you have to do is hold on and enjoy the scenery.”

“I wouldn’t be enjoying anything, Cooper! I’d be terrified the whole way. What’s fun about that?”

“I wouldn’t even go fast!” Cooper says. “I’ll cap it at five above the speed limit; I promise.”

“Eighty miles an hour on a motorcycle is still enough to kill you!”

“Okay, first of all, it would be seventy half the time, and second of all, why don’t you trust me? I’m not some reckless yahoo looking to cheat death taking a corner too fast, and even if I was, I would never gamble with your life.”

Christa gives her sister an indulgent smile. “It’s not about you. It’s about all the things you can’t control. My fear included.”

Cooper sighs in defeat and blinks at Smith sitting across from her. “Will you go with me?”

Smith pauses. “Might follow in the truck.”

Cooper rolls her eyes. “Forget it. I’ll go on my own.”

“You’re not making that trip alone, Cooper,” says Christa, sipping on her beer.

“Well, I wouldn’t have to if you’d come with me.”

Cooper’s been restoring a 1966 Triumph Bonneville T120TT all year, tinkering with it in her spare time at the garage where she’s an auto mechanic. She reckons she’ll be finished with it by the time September rolls around, and she’s been pestering her sister about a long road trip to Texas.

Christa ignores Cooper’s pouting and gives Smith a pointed look. “You coming to the rodeo with us?”

“No, ma’am,” he replies and draws on his beer. He’s sitting in the interior corner on his side of the booth, and he’s got his left arm stretched out along the top of the seatback behind him. He might be hiding a little, from the rest of the room.

“Smith. Come on.”

“Every year, you two go out there, and every year, I don’t. I figure that’ll never change.”

“Why can’t you just suspend your boycott for one night and spend some time with us?”

“I’m spending time with you right now. I’ll follow you anywhere, except the damn rodeo. Why don’t you skip the rodeo and do something else with me? We could take the motorcycle course at the DMV and get licensed.”

Christa makes a face at him. “Very funny.”

“Well, we’re going tomorrow night, with or without you,” Cooper says to Smith. “And I’m betting whoever places first in bronc and bull riding won’t come anywhere near your records, like I always do. Then I’ll be proven right like I always am. At least half a dozen people will recognize me and Chris as your family, ask us how you’re doing, and then recount some memory of your glory days we’ve both heard about a thousand times. We’ll smile and nod and agree you were the best in the West, shake hands, and go home.”

“Clearly, I’m not missing anything,” says Smith, his face shaded under the brim of his cowboy hat.

“If you hate the rodeo so much, why did you decide to live in Cody?” Christa asks. “You could’ve gone back to Rawlins or Cheyenne. Left Wyoming altogether.”

“Cody ain’t a bad place to live.” Smith flicks his eyes past his cousin and gives the saloon a once-over. “You two are here.”

“We’re here because of you,” says Cooper.

Smith glances at her but doesn’t respond, draining his beer bottle instead.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon

Meet the Author

Marie S. Crosswell writes long fiction, short fiction, and poetry. Her novellas Texas, Hold Your Queens; Lone Star on a Cowboy Heart; Alchemy; and Cold, Cold Water are available online wherever digital books are sold. Her short fiction has appeared in Thuglit, Betty Fedora, Plots with Guns, Tough, and other indie crime fiction publications. She’s a graduate of Sarah Lawrence College where she studied creative writing. She lives in the American West. Find out more about Marie on her Website.

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Start to Finish (The Ian Start Mysteries #1) by Pamela A. Williams

 

Start to Finish (The Ian Start Mysteries, #1) is out now! Find out more about this contemporary mystery by Pamela A. Williams through today's release blitz hosted by IndiGo Promotions, read an excerpt & enter in the giveaway for a $10 NineStar Press credit giveaway too!

Title: Start to Finish

Series: The Ian Start Mysteries, Book One

Author: Pamela A. Williams

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: October 19, 2020

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 61600

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, College, artist, law enforcement, murder, disabilities, reunited

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Synopsis

Ian Start is an art professor and poet, living and teaching in Providence, Rhode Island. After suffering an infection in his leg that left him disfigured and traumatized, he’s been struggling to regain his emotional balance and find his voice again in his poetry.

It doesn’t help when one of his students is murdered, and he’s implicated. The chemistry is still there between Ian and Jake, who is his ex and the investigator, but being a suspect presents a barrier to their reunion.

Furthermore, Ian’s injury left a massive scar, both physically and emotionally. He is not convinced anyone else should have to live with his disfigurement and his nightmares.

Excerpt

Start to Finish
Pamela A. Williams © 2020
All Rights Reserved

As I hobbled to the door, I could see, through the leaded glass, a stout Black man in a dated tweed blazer. He was staring intently at my approach, which made me wish that I was dressed in more than a robe and flannel pajama bottoms. Opening the door, I saw that there was a second man, a few steps down, looking out toward the street. “Professor Ian Start?” said the man in front of me.

“Yes?” I said, tearing my gaze away from the familiar pale ginger head.

“I’m Detective Henry Ransom from the Providence Police Department. May we have a few minutes of your time?” At that point, the tawny head turned, and it was, as I knew it would be, Jake. Right on cue, Ransom said, “This is Detective Jake Quinn.” Our eyes met and held. In the moment, I was delighted to see him. But in my moment of pleasure, I could see wariness and warning in his eyes, a slight shake of his head that clearly said don’t acknowledge. I immediately assumed there were some gay identity issues at play and kept my trap shut. Everyone knew I was gay, but I was well aware of guilt by association.

“Yes, of course, come in. We were just having coffee. Can I get you a cup?” Ever the perfect host, eh? With no small amount of trepidation, I led them to the kitchen where Rita was sitting at my little table. It looks out over a small terracotta-tiled patio with a wildflower garden beyond, looking bleak and dead in the frigid morning with black stems and flower heads that hadn’t been tended to before the winter frosts.

“Yeah, coffee would be good,” said Detective Ransom. I raised my eyebrows at Jake, who merely nodded. I knew he took it black but inquired of both anyway. Rita introduced herself, and they all shook hands. I didn’t get a handshake. I began to feel very nervous. My knuckles started to prickle.

Rita rents my street-level apartment. Short and trim, with crazy hair from an indeterminate ethnic background, she’s my closest friend even if she is a social worker. I had an overload of social workers during the time I was in the hospital, all telling me how fucked up I was going to be when I got out. After that, I swore off them permanently, but Rita was the exception. Despite our connection, Rita was a little bit of an enigma; quiet as a whisper, I never heard music or a loud voice from her apartment, so it was hard to tell if she was home or not, and I never knew if she had company because she apparently didn’t keep regular hours. But every Sunday morning without fail she’d be at my back door with croissants and hot chocolate and dressed in tight stretchy sportswear, perfectly comfortable with me in pajama bottoms and my faded silk robe. And that’s how a Sunday morning found us, the second of January, a sunny, cold winter day, when we heard the knock at the front door.

“I’m going to head back downstairs, Ian. If you need anything, just call.” And then she was gone. Cops can do that: clear a room instantly.

I poured two cups from the carafe and retrieved a carton of milk from the refrigerator for Ransom, letting him pour. “What’s going on?” I asked.

Ransom spoke. Jake didn’t say a word. “You are acquainted with a Thomas Wilson.” Statement, not a question.

“He was a student of mine, yes.” The answer to the nonquestion.

“Was?” Ransom asked, a hint of a challenge in the tone.

“Yes,” I said warily. “He’s taken his last drawing class. I teach drawing.”

“When was the last time you saw him?” Again Ransom. Christ. This was bad. I was going to hear that Thomas was missing. Missing or hurt, or…no, not going there. My stomach roiled a little.

“What’s going on?” I asked again. And in nearly a whisper. “What kind of detectives are you? Missing persons?” Yeah, like there are missing persons detectives. I was hoping for the best out of the only other option.

“Homicide,” said Ransom. I sat down hard on the nearest chair. Ransom then asked again, “When was the last time you saw Thomas Wilson?”

No, I do not want to hear what’s coming. “The last day of class. Um, the twelfth, I guess. He helped me load portfolios into my car. Are you telling me Thomas is dead?” Jake nodded but said nothing. “Are you sure? Sure it was Thomas? What happened? When?” They were wrong, had the wrong kid, were talking to the wrong instructor. I stared uncomprehendingly at Ransom. I couldn’t meet Jake’s eyes at all. I felt helpless. My knuckles began to itch, and I distractedly scratched at them.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon

Meet the Author

Pamela A. Williams is a Clinical Social Worker living and working on the Southcoast of Massachusetts. She is the daughter John E. Williams, winner of the 1973 National Book Award for Augustus. She has always had writing in her blood but has only lately found the serenity and confidence to put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard, if you will).

Ms. Williams comes from a widely varied background. She’s worked in manufacturing, retail, graphic arts and the mental health field. She tries to bring these experiences to her writing to create well rounded, believable characters. And she remains forever honored and grateful to her clients who have shared their personal stories and broadened her view of humanity. She is awed by their resilience and trust.

She lives with two cats, of course.

Website | Facebook | Twitter

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Storm Warning by Thom Collins

Join author Thom Collins and Gay Book Promotions as they celebrate the release of Storm Warning! Learn more about the romance and enter in the Storm Warning eBook giveaway! (5 winners)

RELEASE BLITZ 

Book Title: Storm Warning 

Author: Thom Collins 

Publisher: Self-Published 

Cover Artist: Designerans 

Release Date: October 12, 2020 

Genre/s: Contemporary M/M Romance 

Trope/s: Cruise ship romance, moving on 

Themes: Widower finding love again, 

international travel, emotional healing 

Heat Rating: 4 flames 

Length: 52 000 words/208 pages 

It is a standalone story. 

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available on Kindle Unlimited 

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK  |  Amazon  CA  |  Amazon  AU 

The trip of a lifetime is far from smooth sailing

 

Blurb

Jamie Johnson is going to sea for the first time in his life. Atlantic Star is one of the most luxurious cruise ships in the world, and a two-week trip to Iceland offers Jamie the perfect escape. His life has been on hold since the death of his husband and a working holiday onboard a state-of-the-art ship is an opportunity to explore the world he’s been hiding from. A chance to think about his future and decide what he wants to do with the rest of his life.

When Dexter Fordyce steps onboard, all he wants is a good time. The cruise is his first holiday in years, and workaholic Dexter is ready to relax and enjoy himself. If he can manage a little fun with someone like Jamie, even better. Jamie is flattered by the attention. Dexter is handsome, charming and great fun and proves impossible to resist.

Jamie’s hopes of romance died with his husband. The prospect of a shipboard passion is attractive, but Jamie’s heart has been broken for too long and he can’t take the risk of falling in love. With stormy weather ahead, the two men are set for a voyage they will never forget.



Excerpt

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he said, gazing into the night. Straight ahead he could see nothing but dark, the blackness was complete, but leaning on the balcony and looking down, he saw the moderate swell of the ocean and the white-capped waves hitting the side of the ship.

“We’re moving at a fair speed,” Jamie said, glancing at the wake they gave off.

“I suppose we have to, to cover the miles.”

Jamie stepped near to him, their upper arms touching as they stood against the railing.

He’s regaining his composure, Dexter thought.

Somewhere inside Jamie was a desire to be loved again, Dexter was sure of it. To be desired and wanted and not to spend the rest of his life alone. His love for Tyler could never be doubted, but Jamie was too young, had too much of his life remaining, to be on his own forever.

Dexter took a mouthful of champagne and swallowed, choosing his words. “I know this is new for you, and that it can’t be easy. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to, or aren’t ready for. What I’m trying to say is this is all up to you. How much or how little we do together, you decide. I won’t push you into anything.”

Jamie took a deep breath and sighed. He moved his hand from the railing and put it on Dexter’s waist. “I know what I want. And he’s standing right here.”

Dexter turned to face him. How handsome, how striking he looked, in the early hours of the morning, so far out to sea. He caressed Jamie’s face with the tips of his fingers, along his cheek and the lean length of his jaw. “You’re taking my breath away right now; I hope you realise that.”

Jamie put his own hand on top of Dexter’s. “Let’s go inside.”

   

  

About the Author 

Thom Collins is the author of Closer by Morning, North Point and the Anthem Trilogy. His love of page turning thrillers began at an early age when his mother caught him reading the latest Jackie Collins book and confiscated it, sparking a life-long love of raunchy novels.

He is currently working on a new series.

Thom has lived in the North East of England his whole life. He grew up in Northumberland and now lives in County Durham with his husband and two cats. He loves all kinds of genre fiction, especially bonk-busters, thrillers, romance and horror. He is also a cookery book addict with far too many titles cluttering his shelves. When not writing he can be found in the kitchen trying out new recipes. He’s a keen traveler but with a fear of flying that gets worse with age, but in 2013 he realized cruising is the best way to see the world.

Check out his website for news updates and a free ebook The Night.

Other links

Twitter: @thomwolf | Instagram: thomcollinsauthor | Newsletter Sign-up

Giveaway 

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one of 5 ebook copies of Storm Warning

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Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

 

Follow the tour and check out the other blog posts and reviews here

Blog Tour + Giveaway: A Little Unsteady (Wingspan #4) by April Kelley

Welcome author April Kelley and Other Worlds Ink to the blog as they make a tour stop for A Little Unsteady (Wingspan #4)! Discover more about the interspecies paranormal romance and enter in the $20 Amazon gift card giveaway!

April Kelley has a new mm paranormal romance out, Wingspan Book 4: "A Little Unsteady." And there's a giveaway.

Nigel wouldn’t mind if Asher called him Daddy if the age-gap didn’t bother him so much.

Nigel Blackburn has lived a full like as a private investigator. His job means he travels solo a lot, which is something he enjoys. He’s a grouchy, stubborn dragon shifter who is better off alone. The last thing he wants is a mate and certainly not one so young. It doesn’t matter that he finds little bobcat shifter, Asher Burkhart, sexy. But all Nigel’s dragon wants to do is protect, which is good because danger drives into town.

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CAN | QueeRomance Ink

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Giveaway

April is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour – enter via Rafflecopter:

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Excerpt

By the gods, Asher looked young. How young, Nigel didn’t know, but he needed to find out.

No one would mistake the age difference. Nigel had life etched into his skin. Not all of it bad. Sun and laughter did their best after he hit his prime.

He shook his head and ran a hand down his face. The kid made him feel every damn year he’d lived, and all Nigel had to do was look at him. Considering he was a dragon shifter, there had been many.

“Are you asking me if I’ll let you find your brother?”

Asher nodded.

“You’re not a damn prisoner. I’d rather you didn’t wake them, though. They’ve all had a long day and need the rest. So do you, for that matter. Why don’t you lay back down and try to sleep?”

Asher darted his gaze to the closed bedroom door. “Can I have clothes, please?”

Nigel stood and walked over to the dresser. He opened the second drawer from the top and pulled out one of his t-shirts before closing it again. Sweatpants were in the third drawer down. Nothing he had would fit, but that wasn’t the point. He wouldn’t have the kid thinking he had to stay, not after being held captive in the panel room and then at that lab. Somehow, Nigel thought the hostage situation with Terrance caused the most damage. Still, Nigel would follow the kid around like a pet dog before letting him believe his captive status extended to Nigel’s home.

He’d never have to go through anything like that again.

Nigel carried his bundle to Asher, handing it over. He sat on the bed next to him. “The sweatpants have drawstrings.”

Asher nodded and held the clothing to his chest. His eyes shifted to his cat, and his teeth dropped down. Despite the physical response, he sat there as if scared of Nigel.

They were strangers, so the uneasiness made sense. Still, he didn’t like it. “My name is Nigel.”

“Asher.”

Nigel smiled. “I know yours. Leaf talks about you often.”

“Oh.”

“How old are you?”

Asher narrowed his eyes and met his gaze. To say Nigel was surprised by the sudden change of emotion was an understatement. It made him question his assessment of Asher’s earlier behavior. “I could ask you the same thing?”

Nigel lifted his eyebrows and tried not to smile again. “I would answer that I’m a lot older than you.”

The corner of Asher’s mouth turned up in a half-smile. “Fine. Then I’m a lot younger than you.”

“Are you over the age of eighteen?”

Asher smirked and rolled his eyes. “I can even legally drink alcohol. Imagine that.”

“How many years have you been able to drink alcohol legally?”

“Two.” Asher covered his mouth with the back of his hand when he yawned. Some of the tension in his shoulders disappeared.

“Just a kid.”

Asher shrugged and lay his bundle of clothing on the bed beside him. “Compared to you, probably.”

“Was that an old-man joke?” Nigel stood, taking the clothes and placing them on top of the dresser.

Their age difference might bother Nigel, but talking about it eased Asher’s tension enough that fatigue washed over him. Asher forgot about being guarded. Nigel could tell by the way he lay back down on the bed. “Will you talk to me until I go to sleep? Leaf does that back at home.”

Nigel pulled the covers up around him before turning back to his chair. If he stayed too close, he’d push the kid into bonding. His dragon already roared in protest that he hadn’t mated Asher yet. Nigel sat down, keeping the room between himself and a kid who seemed far too traumatized by the last few months of his life. “What do you want to talk about?”

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Author Bio

April Kelley is an author of LGBTQ+ Romance. Her works include The Journey of Jimini Renn, which was a Rainbow Awards finalist, Whispers of Home, the Saint Lakes series, and over thirty more. She’s a main contributor at Once and Books.

Author Website: http://www.authoraprilkelley.com/

Author Facebook (Page): https://www.facebook.com/authoraprilkelley/

Author Facebook (Group): https://www.facebook.com/groups/1538712856332109

Author Twitter: https://twitter.com/authoraprilkell

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authoraprilkell/

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/authoraprilkelley

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/april-kelley/

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/April-Kelley/e/B00TWDUUEM/

Guest Review: Hide to Seek (London Lies #2) by C.F. White

Jackson Young has gone into hiding. Fighting to get his name cleared and his truth heard, he’s followed Fletcher Doherty to Ireland for a safe haven from those who want to silence his story.

As they work on Jackson's biography, their growing attraction gets harder to resist. Fletcher's made it clear though—their professional boundary isn't to be crossed, especially with so many loose threads from each of their pasts left hanging.

But as he learns more about the once coveted celebrity's rise to fame, and the manipulation and control that came with it, Fletcher finds it increasingly difficult to distance himself from their intimate moments. Lust fuelled attraction is easy to ignore, but an emotional connection is harder to deny.

Surrounded by Fletcher's meddling family, and ex boyfriends who still harbour feelings of being jilted, Jackson has to play the part of his lifetime. Can he prove that he does have talent and win Fletcher's heart as well as his trust?

And can he do it all before their idyllic hideaway is compromised?

*sad stars*

Reviewer: Annery

I’m sad to write this review.

C. F. White is a NTM author and I came to this series with high hopes. Even after my less than stellar experience with Fade to Blank, book 1 in the series (which you should definitely read first), I thought the author could turn it around. I was still feeling optimistic about 40% in and then all dreams were dashed.

After the events in book 1 Fletcher and Jax fled to Ireland, specifically to Fletcher’s family farm in Donegal. The idea is to hide out there and write Jax’s tell-all which clear his name of any wrongdoing and expose nefarious characters and deeds within the world of British celebrities. The descriptions of the natural beauty of the land, life on the farm, Fletcher’s family, and the animals were beautiful and evocative and gave me hope, but alas this isn’t a pastoral. The story is about Jax and Fletcher and sadly they’re the most uninteresting people on the planet and maybe a bit dimwitted to boot.

The same improbabilities from book 1 continue, Jax and Fletcher are still incapable of having a regular conversation, much less one where a journalist asks pertinent questions from a source or does any kind of research. Woodward and Bernstein they are not. Towards the end of this book, which also ends in a cliffhanger, some preposterous revelations are made meant to recast Jax & Fletcher’s relationship as other than insta. It would have been best if that was omitted. As for the villains? I don’t believe or understand them. They seem cartoonish at best and their plots bare more than a whiff of current conspiracy theories.

I won’t belabor this any longer. I can say this was not for me and that YMMV and leave it at that. My favorite character was Maggie and she’s a black lab.

Blog Tour + Giveaway: Prince Ivan, A. Wolfe & A Firebird by Eric Alan Westfall

Author Eric Alan Westfall and Other Worlds Ink makes a blog tour stop for Prince Ivan, A. Wolfe & A Firebird! Learn more about the queer fairy tale and enter in the $20 Amazon gift card giveaway!

Eric Alan Westfall has a new queer fairy tale out: Prince Ivan, "A. Wolfe & A Firebird." And there's a giveaway!

Dear Reader,

What do you get when you combine a greedy Great Tsar, his two cheating, bullying older sons, his youngest esser (shh! no saying that aloud) son, stolen gold apples, a Firebird quest, A. Wolfe who has the power t’assume a pleasing shape, a magickal sandstorm, as well as two bands and a full Symphony of Gipsumies?

A rollicking, roisterous Russian Fairy Tale, with vigorous esser activities in tents, halls, bedrooms and alcoves, with and without the assistance of PSTs. Plus princely parades, a duel over Gus, new lyrics to an old drinking song, and the possibility of bits of blood, gobs of gore or moments of mayhem. As required by CORA (the Code of RFT Authors), should these occur, your author will give you timely warning.

Ah. Still not ready to part with your kopek-equivalent? Consider the fun you’ll have reading chapters like:

• “To Kvetch, Or Not To Kvetch? A Reader’s Choice”
• “Ivan Has A Close Encounter Of The F-Word Kind”
• “Second Direction Questers vs. The Caliph’s Sayer Of Sooths”
• “Will Sasha Succeed In Seducing Prince Ivan?”
• “Bad Prince Ivan! No Touch Cage!”
• “A Travel Pause For Gratuitous Sex In The Tent—Which Does Not Advance The Plot—At The Insistence Of The Characters”
• “A Necessary Interlude To Consider The Age-Old Questing Question: What The [Expletive Of Your Choice, Dear Reader] Do We Do Next?”

If you buy it and try it, you’ll like it, or so says your most talen...er...humble author.

p.s. If Karrie Jax and I have covered you and blurbed you to buy, look for “Dear Reader, Along The Way, Did You Happen To See The Allusion To Olivier?” in the TOC. It’s a spot-the-allusions chance at gift cards of $25, $15, or $10.

166,000 words of story fun and frolic, plus a 2160-word teaser from another MM fairytale: The Tinderbox.

Amazon | Smashwords | Universal Buy Link

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Giveaway

Eric is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour. Enter via rafflecopter:

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Excerpt

IVAN PUTS HIS HORSE AT RISK, AND MEETS A. WOLFE

“A wolf who talks,” Ivan said, his voice all full of surprise.

“I am not a wolf, Prince Ivan, I am A. Wolfe.”

Ivan lifted an eyebrow, in his long-perfected “inquiring princes want to know what you mean” mode, while wondering what effect it might have on such an enormous beast. Well, not a beast, exactly, since it could talk.

No reaction, except the bright gold eyes—so like one of his father’s apples, well-polished after plucking, or the gold circles in the Firebird’s tail—stared back, unblinking.

Since his eyebrow inquiry failed to a verbal response, it was Ivan’s turn to talk. Politeness had worked with the Firebird, when used in place of “I am royal, hear me roar” arrogance, and might be best for Ivan’s well-being in the current situation, conversing with a wolf, the top of whose head was above Gus’ shoulder.

“‘A wolf who talks,’” yes. My exact words, Sir Wolf.”

The wolf opened his mouth. Wide. No mere flash this time. Ivan was fully fanged. As they had only just met, he could not tell whether he was being fang-grinned for a reason he could not fathom, or fierce-fanged to frighten him. If it was the latter, there was a glimmer of starting-to-work happening.

But the wolf’s voice was neither fierce nor fun-filled when he hid most of his fangs and talked again. His tone was a goblet of great size, filled not just to the brim but overflowing—with more coming from somewhere so the over kept on flowing—with...patience. The kind of patience you use for, with, and on, those who are not very bright. Indeed, those who are so dim that if their brains were used to provide light for reading at night they’d be as effective as an inch-tall stub of a quarter-inch wide candle, set in a candlestick in the bowels of a cavern on the far side of a mountain range five-and-a-half eighths of a continent away.

“When you bathe, do you clean your ears, Prince Ivan?” [See above for how he said it.]

“Uh...what?”

A sigh was heard.

Ivan wished he’d brought along a sigh that big, but then, since it was a large wolf letting it loose, accompanied by, Ivan was almost sure, a hint of a scent of pasta, pesto, garlic and butter, Ivan might not have been able to use it with the same effect. The sigh might almost have been designed to complement the show-patience-to-the-afflicted voice.

“Do. You. Clean—”

“I heard you the first time, Sir Wolf. I just don’t understa—”

It was the wolf’s turn to interrupt. “It’s clear you don’t understand, young prince. I was trying to ascertain whether your inability to understand plain Russian was based on a physical defect—stuffed ears, whether unclean or for another reason, bad hearing, something of that sort—and if not, on some mental lack which in theory requires me to be considerate and gentle.”

There was a tiny pause, so infinitesimal Ivan would have had no chance to get a syllable of a word in edgewise, sidewise, upwise, or downwise, even had he tried. “You do understand kindness and gentleness are not traits associated with a wolf, and especially not A. Wolfe?”

At the end of this series of insults, the Great Tsar would have raged, calling on his ever-present Imperial Guards to “Rid me of this wolf!”

Anatol would have ranted about the presumptuousness of peasants who did not know or stay in their proper place, probably forgetting who had just offended his sense of propriety.

Vlad would have grabbed his sword, and whether from horseback, or following a grandiose leap to the ground which displayed his awesome athleticism for the admiration of any viewers lurking in the vicinity—it was his policy to always act as if he was being viewed with admiration—would have started hewing and hacking away.

In part because Ivan suspected the outcome would have been the same with all three of those scenes—dead soldiers, dead royal family, likely including bystander youngest prince—Ivan chose the fourth door...and laughed.

He couldn’t say why he saw—thought he saw—a twinkle of humor in the great golden eyes. But he must have been right, because the wolf didn’t leap up, all howling, growling and slavering, and drag him off Gus before doing the devouring which would logically follow offending laughter.

Ivan forced a halt to his own humor. With gasps interrupting his initial words, he said, “My apologies, Sir Wolf. I was not laughing at you. It was an image in my head of my family’s reactions to your words, and yours to theirs. However, with all the respect to which you are entitled, which seems to be at least a reasonable amount”—Ivan was willing to be reasonable, but not obsequious—“I have no mental or physical defect which interferes with my hearing or my understanding. Perhaps the, ah, flaw lies in your explanation of what you mean? Or, you might consider, the lack of one?”

Ivan gave the wolf a princely grin of satisfaction with his response.

Wolfe gave the prince back a wolfeish huff. “I’ll entertain the possibility you might be right, if you’ll entertain the possibility you are not listening as well as you should.”

Ivan nodded.

“Very well. Repeat after me, ‘A wolf is not the same as A. Wolfe.’”

“A wolf is not the same as a wolf.”

Wolfe sighed again. He apparently had an inexhaustible supply, in a wide range of sizes.

“A wolf is an animal, Prince Ivan. It resembles me, but is far smaller, roams the forest, howls from time to time for various reasons, and at times for no reason at all. Perhaps because it doesn’t reason. I am a wolfe—with an ‘e’ at the end. Which means I have magickal skills. My name is: A...full stop...Wolfe.”

Ivan grinned again. “Your first name is Afullstop? What an unusual name. Not Russian, is it?”

“No. Not an ‘uh’ sound, but a long a-sound, which rhym... You’re teasing.”

Ivan learned another lesson in wolfe-prince relations. A wolf-with-an-e-at-the-end could grin, without his fangs looking all fearsome.

Ivan widened his own grin. “I am. So what does long-A stand for?”

“Aleksandr.”

“A handsome name for a handsome wolf-with-an-e.”

Ivan paused. He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but he decided he would, anyway. “Sir Wolfe, now that I know your name is A. Wolfe, and since we are being so precise with our pronunciations, are you really quite certain I shouldn’t call you ‘A. Wolfie?’ To be sure the final ‘e’ gets its just and proper due?”

Ah. So that’s what a Wolfeish glare looked like with a fillip of fang.

---

Author Bio

Eric is an American Midwesterner, and as Lady Glenhaven might say, “He’s old enough to have sailed with Noah.” In the real world he writes for a living, with those who would claim what he writes is fiction. His partner of thirty years—who died unexpectedly in 1995—enthusiastically encouraged him to try to get his writing published (mostly poetry back then, plus some short stories), but he didn’t have the guts to do so until 2013. At this point he’s not sure which was officially first, The Song, or Like a Mountain, Waiting.

Starting then, he’s published 13 novels and novellas, 1 poetry collection, 2 short story collections, and 3 short stories. God willin’ and the crick don’t rise, 2020 will also see The Tinderbox out and about. But since real life is, as we all know, a pain in the (anatomical site of your choice)...no guarantees.

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/Eric-Alan-Westfall-1045476662268838/

Author Twitter: https://twitter.com/eawestfall43

Cover Reveal: Nice Catching You: A Holiday Love Story by Ryan Taylor & Joshua Harwood

Like hockey and new adult romance? Check out today's cover reveal for holiday romance, Nice Catching You by Ryan Taylor & Joshua Harwood from IndiGo Marketing!

Nice Catching You: A Holiday Love Story

By Ryan Taylor & Joshua Harwood

Cover Created by : Cherie Fox

Release Date: October 30, 2020

Available to Pre-Order at:

Amazon US

Amazon Universal

What happens when the No. 1 college hockey star in the country falls in love—with a man?

Nick Johnson, a top prospect for a pro hockey team, has a secret: he’s gay. Tired of living in the
closet for the sport he loves, he sees no way out.

Jacob Meyer’s string of bad boyfriends left him cynical about love. Instead, he focuses on his
studies as a third-year law student. With a new job waiting for him, he’s eager to graduate and
move on.

On a school-sponsored trip, Nick and Jacob meet in a most unexpected way. When Nick tells
Jacob his secret, they decide to hang out, just as friends. But their attraction is too strong to
ignore, and they soon begin dating.

Since Nick is a big man on campus, it doesn’t take long for people to notice his attachment to
Jacob. All hell breaks loose when the relationship gets out. As the national media descends,
university officials try to figure out how to solve their “problem.” Their efforts divide Nick’s
team, inflame fans, and put Nick and Jacob’s futures in jeopardy. Will the men be able to
survive a plot to destroy them without derailing both their careers?

Nice Catching You is an out-for-you romance featuring a lot of love, exciting hockey, and a
beautiful holiday. There’s also plenty of steam and a very happy ending.

Pre-Order Your Copy on Amazon US or Amazon Universal Today!

Release Blitz + Giveaway: School and Rock (Arizona Raptors #5) by RJ Scott & V.L. Locey

Authors RJ Scott & V.L. Locey along with Signal Boost Promotions promote new release, School and Rock (Arizona Raptors #5)! Learn more about the latest hockey/manny romance and enter in the giveaway to win Coast to Coast AND Across the Pond (Arizona Raptors Books #1-2)!

 

Buy Links: Universal Link

Length: 55,000 words approx.

Cover Design: Meredith Russell

Arizona Raptors Series

Book #1 - Coast to Coast - Universal Link

Book #2 - Across The Pond - Universal Link

Book #3 - Shadow and Light - Universal Link

Book #4 - Sugar and Ice - Universal Link

Blurb

When Colorado Penn finds an unexpected package on his front step, his life will be changed forever.

Colorado Penn is living the dream. Starting goalie for the Arizona Raptors when in season, lead singer for a hard rock band when summer rolls around. He’s the quintessential free spirit who’s making sure he enjoys all the carnal blessings of his athleticism, and gritty singing voice. Now the Raptors are moving into their first playoff appearance in years, but the arrival of an unexpected package means that hockey may have to take a backseat to something way more important. Instead of the usual undergarments from adoring fans, he finds a newborn baby with a small note tucked under her carrier, naming him as the father. He refuses to give up his daughter and is determined to be the kind of father he’d dreamed of having. But to keep Madeline, he’ll need help, and he’ll need it fast. Enter handsome emergency manny, Joseph. They may be opposites, but Colorado starts to see that Joseph’s stable, calm influence makes his chaotic lifestyle choices seem less appealing. There’s something about the man that soothes not only his infant daughter but also the wild child inside Colorado.

Joseph is one year away from getting his degree in planetary science, working cover shifts at the planetarium, and pulling in income with short term manny gigs. Stars collide as he provides emergency childcare for the wild man of hockey, a man who moves so fast through life that he doesn’t know how to stop. Homeless, and caring for his niece, Emma, fate brings Joseph into Colorado and baby Madeline’s life. Madeline is a sweetheart, and Colorado is trying his hardest to make the best decision for his baby girl. He offers his home and an indecent salary, to keep Joseph in his life until summer’s end. Colorado brings mysticism and metal to Joseph’s sanctuary of science, but somehow Joseph needs to tame this shooting star and create a family. Nothing in the contract said Joseph had to fall in love to make that happen, but when it’s time for him to leave, will the void in his heart ever heal, or will it remain as cold as space itself?

RJ Scott is a USA TODAY bestselling author of over 140 romance and suspense novels. From bodyguards to hockey stars, princes to millionaires, cowboys to military heroes to every-day heroes, she believes that love is love and every man deserves a happy ending.

Find RJ here: Amazon | BookBub | Facebook - Also, Never miss a release

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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Blog Tour + Giveaway: The Prince and the Pencil Pusher by Kenzie Blades

Welcome author Kenzie Blades and IndiGo Marketing as they host today's tour stop for The Prince and the Pencil Pusher (Royal Powers #7)! The author shares some more info about themselves in a mini interview! Plus, they're hosting a eBook giveaway where 10 lucky winners will win their own copy of The Prince and the Pencil Pusher (Royal Powers #7)! Good luck!

Title: The Prince and the Pencil Pusher

Series: Royal Powers #7

Author: Kenzie Blades

Publisher: Luxe Press

Release Date: 9/28/20

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 30000

Genre: Romance, Enemies to Lovers, Royal Romance, Superhero Romance, Paranormal Romance

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Synopsis

Bad things happen when supos go unchecked. That's why Abarra needs The Ministry: to keep tabs on royals with powers run amok. Queen Maialen has entrusted the safety of her subjects to her nephew, Prince Xabier, placing the agency in his capable hands.

Only, the Prince would rather spend his days putting his own power to good use in the vineyards than to wither away on the bureaucratic vine. Tired of policing perpetrators and babysitting bean-counters, he schemes to groom his first lieutenant (and second cousin) the Duke of Shrubs. After months spent moving chess pieces, he is poised to convince the Queen to assign his cousin to his post.

But an unlikely pawn still stands in his way: the sexy Zain Otxoa is the pushiest pencil-pusher in all of The Ministry and head of internal affairs. Prince Xabier has plotted to have him fired at least thrice. Zain's influence over the Queen—his only saving grace—is baffling.

When a master maneuver to have Zain reassigned exposes a shocking imbroglio, Prince Xabier learns The Ministry isn't what it seems. And Zain isn't a pawn at all.

Purchase at Amazon

Excerpt

Not so fast.

My heels clicked in rapid succession as I walked down the centerline of the grand executive hall. It was far afield of the offices on lower floors. It took minutes to get all the way up there, which was why I’d needed to make haste. Left unattended on nights when he would rather have been any place but at his post, the Prince had a tendency to disappear.

The floors were made of marble and their design was quite ornate—a wide white border off to each side, with an elaborate design forming a runway down the middle. It wasn’t a pattern, but a work of art, its geometric pieces reminiscent of stained glass. It gave the sense of walking on a rug made of stone.

Hues from garnet, to ruby, to tawny, to rose made up elements of a palette that swirled and faded to ambers and golds. They complemented magnificent oil paintings of Abarran countryside that lined the grand corridor’s high walls. Spaced-out sitting benches rendered the space worthy of entertaining. Yet, he kept it to himself, and spent most of his time alone.

The downstairs offices were another story. They were filled with six-by-six-foot cubicles configured en masse for the Ministry’s rank and file. Enclosed offices here and there were reserved for mid-level managers: MLMs, as we liked to call them. I inhabited one of the better of these offices—a space in the corner on a higher floor with a not-bad view—though an MLM I was not.

Ostensibly, I was the Head of Internal Affairs, which was exactly her intention—a gross understatement considering my deep involvement with the covert side. Not making that last fact public was by design. My list of responsibilities was too long to name—too long for me to remember most days. Yet, the highest of my duties was to babysit him.

He was Prince Xabier Garrastazu, third in line to the South Abarran throne, son of Prince Frantzisco, nephew to the Queen, and Duke of Brix. He was also the Minister of Powers—the highest-ranking official at this agency and—despite my charge to keep him from making too big a mess out of things, he was—technically—my boss.

“Is he in?” I asked Eusebio, more for his benefit than mine. I knew the Prince’s comings and goings. I had eyes on him at all times. I tried not to roll my eyes as Eusebio made a production of picking up the phone to announce my arrival. The Prince enjoyed forcing me to wait to be let in.

Good.

The more ridiculously childish and infuriatingly vain Prince Xabier, Duke of Brix, chose to be wherever I was concerned, the easier it was to ignore his ridiculous appeal.

“Your Grace.” As usual, I greeted his back, the part of him that always seemed to face me when I walked into his suite. Even from behind, the man was magnificent. Broad shoulders filled out a perfectly tailored button-down made of fine fabric and subtle herringbone design. Today’s shirt—white if you weren’t paying attention—was the faintest of lilac. He was the epitome of a dashing prince.

To be clear, I was paying attention, not only to the way its snug fit showed the definition in his shoulders—to the place where the fabric stopped and his rolled-up sleeves gave way to skin. For all the hard work he didn’t do, there needn’t have been any rolling up of sleeves. In my most outlandish of theories, he did it to torment me.

“Mr. Otxoa,” the Prince greeted blithely, not turning toward me just yet. He stood on a rug in the sitting area with his gaze remained fixed on the fire. His office was a projection of the man himself—pleasantly fragrant, clean to a fault and dripping with style. Tufted wingback chairs with ottomans flanked a matching Chesterfield, all three in a dark teal.  Fire glow warmed his features, casting appeal on the planes of his face, flattering the smooth line of his nose and cutting shadows from his diamond jaw.

I stopped at the edge of the rug next to the drink trolley that carried only wine. Its twin at the other end of the Chesterfield was all crystal decanters and spirits. When he turned, I was meant to bow out of deference. This was always the most difficult moment—the one when he first cast his gaze upon me. I faltered at the devastating beauty of his eyes.

“And what have you for me tonight? More documents to sign, no doubt. More supos with powers run rampage?”

He made no secret of the fact that my presence vexed him. Unencumbered by the burden of common birth, the Prince was under no obligation to feign politesse. Logic dictated that his resentment stemmed from me holding him to task. Instinct told me that the sport he made of pushing my buttons was something more.

The Prince finally cast his sapphire gaze upon me and I did bow then, thankful that the deep hue of my skin made it easy to hide my flush. Blood that he could not see rushed to my cheeks and prickled my nose and burned the tops of my ears. If he resented me, I, too, resented him. Training the Prince was not supposed to be so difficult as this.

Author Interview

Q: Describe yourself, your favorite character and your book, each in 5 words or less.
A:
Me: “Who brought the good wine?”
Prince Xabier: “Now you’ve got my attention.”
The Prince and the Pencil Pusher: “Things aren’t as they seem”

Q: If you could be any age again for a week, which would you choose?
A: I would be in my early 20s again, but I would have more money than I had in my actual early 20s. I had a great time living between New York and Paris at that time in my life, but I was pretty strapped for cash. I would love to go back to the late 90s as a twenty-one year old, but with the kind of money I have now. There are other experiences I would have pursued without hesitation, had I been able to afford them.

Q: Which author’s career are you most jealous of? Why?
A: Once I figured out and accepted that the world isn’t a meritocracy, it became much easier for me to not let jealousy take hold. The longer I spend in the publishing world, the more I see firsthand the extent to which luck, systematic inequality and a bunch of factors that have nothing to do with me impact results. I can’t think of one author who I’m jealous of. With that said, if I see authors receiving accolades and I think my work is stronger than theirs, it motivates me to do hustle harder. And, expectations and humility matter, too. I write a different kind of fiction under a different pen name. Under that pen, I’ve won more than fifty awards and am a USA Today Bestselling author and I’ve had some really wonderful experiences writing books under the other moniker. I could stop writing today and still have a lot to show for my career. I don’t have much reason to be jealous. I’ve worked hard and had an amazing author career.

Q: What are your 5 favorite words?
A: 

1. Love
2. Bittersweet
3. Duende
4. Briny
5. Consternation

Q: If you could have personally witnessed one event in history, what would you want to have seen?
A: I would’ve liked to have participated in the Selma marches or the March on Washington. I think they would have terrified me but they would have been so meaningful to me personally.

Meet the Author

 

Kenzie Blades is a queer author of romantic LGBTQ+ fiction and is the alter ego of a multi-award winning author who writes other fiction under a different name. Kenzie lives in San Francisco and enjoys lots of things that start with the letter B, like bacon, bourbon and books.

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Seventh by Rachel White

Author Rachel White and IndiGo Marketing host today's release blitz for Seventh! Learn more about the fantasy romance and enter in the NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: Seventh

Author: Rachel White

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: October 12, 2020

Heat Level: 1 - No Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 39300

Genre: Fantasy, LGBTQIA+, romance, fantasy, disabilities, slow burn

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Synopsis

Hynd Perrent leads a lonely life, rejected by most of society after a debilitating illness permanently changed him. He has spent nearly a decade investigating the disappearance of a military unit, Seventh Dragoons, in a war nearly a century prior, content to immerse himself in the frustrating search and the book he intends to write about it.

When his sister sets him up with a handsome stranger, Hynd can scarcely believe his luck, unable to recall the last time somebody wanted to be near him and did not fear or revile him for his illness. But Julius Ocere has come for a different reason: Hynd’s. He wants to learn what happened to the Seventh and prove that his great-grandfather was not a traitor.

While a research assistant isn’t what Hynd had hoped for, he takes Julius on. The mystery they uncover is larger than either of them could have imagined, and it will take both of them together to finally put the ghosts of the Seventh to rest.

Excerpt

Seventh
Rachel White © 2020
All Rights Reserved

Hynd was in the study, bent over a book when Alycia arrived. He ought to have known something was suspicious from her sudden appearance in his doorway, but he had been squinting at faded pages all day, and his eye wasn’t working quite right. So, he was caught off-guard when she said, voice sly, “I’ve found you a lover.”

“Oh,” said Hynd, and then, “no.”

“Well, perhaps not yet.” Alycia entered the study and dropped into the opposite chair. “A potential lover. He’s Viola’s cousin. Julius Ocere. Have you met him?” She reached across the desk and plucked up his pen, fiddling with it as she spoke.

“No,” said Hynd again, turning a page. He had to be careful when doing so, for the book was so old, the material so worn, that the slightest tug could send things flying disastrously out of their bindings. The book—one of Captain Walsh’s journals, written during the end of the Lily Wars—was on loan from the Royal University library; to wreck the library’s treasure would be to wreck his access to the Old Archives, and at that point, Hynd could bid farewell to ever completing his manuscript.

“I do love it when you stop listening to me,” Alycia said. Had she been speaking?

When he glanced at her, she rolled her eyes theatrically. “Thank you, brother. As I was saying, Mr. Ocere wants to meet you. He’s very interested in you.”

That seemed unlikely, all things considered, but when Hynd raised a dubious eyebrow at her, she continued more fiercely than before. “I mean it! Listen, I didn’t sell you to him—”

“I should hope not.”

That got him a scowl. “He asked about you,” Alycia continued. “I was talking with Viola, and I happened to mention the book you’re writing, on the Seventh Dragoons, and immediately, he was right there. Apparently, he’s as interested in the Dragoons as you are.”

Which…wasn’t where Hynd had thought things would go. “Really?”

“Truly. When I told him about you, he became more and more interested. Viola says that he recently parted ways with his lover, and even though it was amicable—at least, according to Viola, though God knows whether she’s right about that—Mr. Ocere is lonely. He wanted me to pass a message on to you.”

Something flipped a little in Hynd’s stomach. He tried to quash it—don’t get your hopes up—but it was like a queer little flame burning inside him. It wasn’t exactly as though Hynd were drowning in suitors; of course, a man personally asking to call upon him would have an impact. He knew that, and he knew it was foolish, and he still couldn’t help the warmth that rose in his cheeks.

Alycia noticed and smirked. “He wants to meet you,” she said, in a singsong way.

“When?”

“Tomorrow night, eight o’clock. At the Vine and Blade. Do you know where that is?”

Hynd did, and told her as much, which made her look pleased as a cat in cream. “Good. So, you’ll meet him?”

“Last time you tried to arrange a meeting with a gentleman for me, he didn’t even appear.”

“I’m sure Julius Ocere will appear.”

“The time before that,” Hynd reminded her, “the man you found was actually planning on wooing you.”

Alycia colored and turned her face away. “Felix Roddan was just a silly boy. I can’t believe I even gave him the time of day. No, this isn’t like that. He’s interested in you, Hynd. He asked all about your work, and he wanted to know about your hobbies and what you like. He was enthralled that you’re a Royal Scholar, you know. He didn’t think twice about me.”

The funny feeling had returned, stronger than before. Hynd swallowed. “Did you tell him about me?”

“Of course, I did. I answered every question he had.” She tilted her head, looking concerned. “Did that breach your privacy?”

“No, that’s not… I mean, did you tell him about me?”

Alycia blinked at him, but he couldn’t tell if her confusion was sincere or feigned. “Yes,” she finally said, and her tone, at least, was decisive. “I told him all about you.”

“And he wants to meet me?”

“He sent you a message, didn’t he? You ought to send him a response as soon as possible. He seems like a busy fellow.”

No doubt, Julius Ocere was a busy fellow. Busier than Hynd, at any rate. It was easy to have lots of free time when one never left the house except on mandatory errands. It was easy to avoid packed schedules when one had no friends.

“You’re making that face,” said Alycia. “Don’t. Just send him a message and go tomorrow evening. He’s very nice, and he’s dashing, and he’s utterly handsome—tall and golden—and he practically begged me to mention him to you. What more could you want?”

She winked at him and rose, vanishing back into the hallway. Alone, he returned to his work but found himself unable to concentrate. His mind kept picking over the conversation. Tall and golden. What more could Hynd want?

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read Universal Link

Meet the Author

Rachel White was born and raised in L.A., California, but moved north for college. An avid reader for as long as she can remember, she started writing in high school and hasn’t stopped. Her favorite genre is fantasy, but she’ll devour a good book no matter what shelf it belongs to; she takes the same approach to her own writing, hopping between ideas, genres, and stories as it suits her.

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