Release Blitz + Giveaway: T.A.G. Family Christmas (The Assassins' Guild #3) by A.G. Carothers

 

Author A.G. Carothers and Gay Book Promotions host today's release blitz for T.A.G. Family Christmas (The Assassins' Guild #3)! Read more about the latest holiday romance from the series and enter in the $15 Amazon gift card giveaway!

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: T.A.G. Family Christmas (The Assassins' Guild #3)

Author: A.G. Carothers

Publisher: A.G. Carothers

Cover Artist: Amai Designs

Release Date:12/15/20

Genre/s: MM Romance, Holiday Romance, 

Trope/s: Age Gap, Sweet, Established Couples, 

Themes: Ensemble Cast, Holiday Vacation Fun, Bratty Twinks

Heat Rating:  2 flames

Length: 22 000 words/94 pages 

It is not a standalone story. 

The Assassins' Guild Series are enclosed stories but they are all connected and best read in order. T.A.G. You're Seen T.A.G. You're Heard T.A.G. Family Christmas

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Buy Links - Available on Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link  |   Amazon US  |  Amazon UK  

 

Blurb

Happy Holidays from everyone at T.A.G. Your one-stop shopping source for all your killing needs.

It isn't all stabbings, poisonings, and shootings here at The Assassins' Guild. We decided to pause that and take a little time to celebrate being alive, and for some, being in love.

This is your friendly communications agent, Mr. No, here to tell you about the holiday fun Mr. H and his boys got up to this one Christmas.

Once upon a time, there was a Bob. This Bob got tasked with three missions. Not just any old ordinary missions, but missions of love...

Between guarding Connor, being stalked by Enrique, and being his usual sneaky self, Bob must put into motion three big surprises for his chosen family.

But it's not all snowman contests and catching Mr. Ti in potentially embarrassing situations while they vacation in a chateau outside of Paris. Oh no, something is afoot. Mr. H won't let the new problem code-named The Poacher interfere with family time.

So, take a little time out of your busy schedule and join us for a T.A.G. Family Christmas the likes of you'll never forget.

Attention: This story contains adorableness taken to a whole new level. There are adult situations, language, kinky snowmen, and all the churros you can eat.



Excerpt

Connor

Paris, France

Sixteen Days till Christmas

Lights twinkled, making the bare trees that lined the Champs Elysée seem full once more in the early evening darkness. This far north, the sun was long set by five. My breath puffed in the chilly air in front of me as I looked down the wide avenue with the Arc de Triumph behind me. The sound of the cars zooming around the large roundabout was dim to my ears as I stood in awe of the sight before me.

Ice glistened on the branches as the smell of—a sharp elbow jabbed my bicep. “Are you going to stand here all evening gaping? I’m freezing my nuts off here, and you promised me lots of mulled wine and fresh churros.”

I side-eyed Yoshi with a huff. “I was imprinting this moment to my memory. Plus, look how pretty it is. Besides, I told you to wear a thicker jacket.”

“Well, if we move, I won’t be so cold, and I didn’t want to look like a marshmallow man.”

“At least I’m warm and fashionable.” I’d worn a poofy teal coat that went to mid-thigh, toasty flannel lined jeans with fleece-lined boots. I topped off my outfit with matching earmuffs that had cat ears on them and a pair of our special cold weather gloves that kept my hands perfectly warm while not losing any dexterity nor the ability to operate any of our touchscreen electronics.

Yoshi pogoed on his toes, and I looked back over to Bob, who shrugged. “Well, at least let me get some photos first.”

“Fuck. It’s cold.” Yoshi blew into his hands.

“Well, I offered you earmuffs, but you scoffed at me. Dmitry told you to at least take a scarf and you scoffed at him. I think you just like suffering and complaining about it.” I took the opportunity to pull my scarf over my nose to try to warm it. The wind by the Arc was a bit too much for my comfort.

Yoshi laughed heartily. “Of course I like suffering.”

“That’s not what you said this morning. You were begging for Dmitry to stop torturing and fuck you,” I quipped.

“Damn thin walls in that place.” Yoshi blushed a little then shrugged it off. “I’m not the only one who’s loud. How tight is your Daddy’s hole? I don’t think I quite heard.”

I grinned wide and licked my lips. “Mmmmm, so tight. He hugs my cock—”

Yoshi shoulder checked me, nearly making me stumble into someone walking in the opposite direction. “And he’s so hot and the way he flexes—” I dodged Yoshi and caught up to Bob, who had taking point. He arched an eyebrow at me as I used him as a shield.

“Brat.”

“You’re just jealous.” I stuck my tongue out at him.

“I do not want to know what Oz’s ass even looks like, much less feels.”

I fell back in step with Yoshi. “Eww, no, of course not, but I meant that you never get to fuck Dmitry.”

Yoshi shrugged. “Eh, it’s not something I need. Sometimes it’d be nice but I’m good.”

We were finally topside again. So many people were out shopping or having dinner. There were many tourists as well, but it was the Champs Elysée, so that was expected. The next day they were going shopping in the fashion district. I wasn’t a clothes whore by any means, but if you’re going to come to Paris, you must at least do some clothes shopping.

“Do you want to stop for a coffee?”

“No, let’s go to Tiffany’s like you want first.”

A nervous excitement bubbled in my gut as we got closer to the store. “Are you sure you don’t want something too?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. We do a lot of things together, but I think we can skip this one.”

“Don’t you want to marry Dmitry?”

“Sure, someday, but it’s not something I really think about. He’s not going anywhere. He promised and he has my key.”

I nodded as I walked through the door that Bob held open to the multilevel shop. “Maybe you can get him like a diamond-encrusted cock ring?”

“Nah, do you know what a pain that would be to clean?”

About the Author

A.G. Carothers is actually a dragon very cleverly disguised as a human. They are a non-binary author of LGBTQIA Romance and Urban Fantasy, who enjoys writing original and entertaining stories. They are very excited to share the worlds they've created with you.

A.G. currently lives in Tennessee with their platonic life partner, who is not a dragon. They yearn to live back in Europe and will some day. In their spare time they are addicted to losing themselves in the lovely worlds created by other authors

A.G. is committed to writing the stories they see in their head without restrictions. Love is blind and doesn't see gender, race, or sexuality.   

Social Media Links

https://Link.Gallery/agcarothers

 

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: That Distant Dream (The Satura Trilogy #1) by Laurel Beckley

 

Author Laurel Beckley and IndiGo Promotions host today's release blitz for That Distant Dream (The Satura Trilogy #1)! Science Fiction fans check out more info and enter in the $10 NineStar Press credit giveaway! 

Title: That Distant Dream

Series: The Satura Trilogy, Book One

Author: Laurel Beckley

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: December 14, 2020

Heat Level: 1 - No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 65600

Genre: Science Fiction, LGBTQIA+, science fiction, sci-fi, military scifi, cliffhanger, other-world, military, PTSD, war

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Synopsis

After her escape pod is found drifting through debris nearly two decades after the end of the Redelki Wars, Melin is woken from cryosleep to find a galaxy where she no longer belongs. The galaxy has moved on from the horrors she experienced, the experiences that transformed her into a hero while she slept, but she hasn’t.

Alone, broken in mind and body, Melin is slowly pulled to the planet of her ancestors. She just wants a fresh start. A chance to end the dreams plaguing her sleep. A chance for answers. For new beginnings. For a life lived in oblivion where no one knows her name or what she did.

But Satura is a planet at war. And there are no fresh starts for heroes.

Excerpt

That Distant Dream
Laurel Beckley © 2020
All Rights Reserved

The shuttle jerked violently to the left, shuddered as both engines made the distinct whine of crystal overload, shrieked, and died.

Someone in the back screamed as the craft tumbled, rolling wildly through the atmosphere.

Melin gripped her armrests, squeezed her eyes shut as she willed her breath to remain steady. Hyperventilation would kill her faster.

She tried focusing on what that quack psychoanalyst claimed were “soothing” mantras as the onsetting gravity of reentry sucked her into her seat at a pace faster than the cheap civilian gravity suit could compensate. Breathe, breathe, breathe.

A distant corner of her brain—the one not occupied with breathing, muscle tension, and avoiding G-LOC—remembered a military-grade ship suit wouldn’t have had this problem. Her old space armor would have allowed her to carve a hole out of this blasted shuttle and free dive planetside. She sucked a tight inhale through clenched teeth, chest burning. Think of the positive.

Then she remembered she’d never link in with a set of space armor ever again, and she was back where she’d started.

On a free-falling shuttle with a one-way ticket to the ground.

The shuttle flipped, gaining a moment of antigravity that triggered a spate of relief—and retching and sobbing and fervent prayers—for its passengers.

The shuttle rolled again, nose pointing down.

Melin’s vision tunneled, graying at the edges.

I will not die like this.

A jolt of energy passed through her, setting her fingers on fire and dissolving her vision into sparkling blue light. An engine sputtered, hissed, and restarted with a ferocious roar.

As quickly as the onset had begun, the shuttle leveled in its descent, catching before it hit too steep of a reentry and turned them into a smear of fire and ash across the sky.

The shipboard gravity slackened to a bearable weight, and Melin heaved in a grateful sigh. Her chest hitched as she inhaled too far, and she leaned forward, instinctively slapping her chest to release the five-point harness as her lungs burned and shuddered with a coughing fit. The gravity was still too heavy, and she tumbled forward into the seat in front of her, wheezing.

“You all right, sero?” her seatmate asked with all the sincerity of a corpse. His gray face looked like it had aged thirty years in ten seconds.

Melin waved a hand between coughs, focusing on breathing. In and out and in and out, settle your chest, you aren’t going to die. You just survived a weird shuttle mishap. A little coughing fit is nothing. And when you get your shit together, you can tell this asshat to address you as an adult, not a child.

Eventually, her inhales matched her exhales. Unthinking, she wiped her mouth with her left hand—the flesh still new and tingly from the regen. Fuck. Everything felt new and fresh and raw. She sucked in a rattling breath.

The last set of skin grafts had done wonders to fix the burn scars. She looked like new. On the outside. Her insides were old, brittle, and breaking with every wracking cough, every interminable second. At least she had control of her bodily functions again. Melin shook her head and rubbed her temples with her right hand, feeling the calluses of her finger pads brush against her forehead. She carefully tucked her left hand against her side. A cobbled together golem, that’s what she was now.

“It’s like this on every jump,” her seatmate said. He straightened in his seat as if trying to gather his composure. Melin grimaced. Of course he hadn’t passed out.

Melin ignored him, leaning into her seat and fumbling with the straps.

He had introduced himself as Diplomatic Corpsmember Undersecretary Obidiah Calderon when they’d first boarded after he’d squeezed his body into the jump chair beside hers. His thigh touched hers even now, oozing over the seat. He’d been assigned to a backwoods planet of minor significance that would make or break his career. As if to emphasize his importance and larger stature, his thighs were spread wide, invading her space and pushing her further into the cramped window seat.

“Almost like the planet doesn’t want us here,” he added when he had obviously failed to pique her interest. “But we still land safely—80 percent of the time.”

She nodded absently and turned to the windows, which were untinted now they were in the upper atmosphere, revealing more gray clouds. At least this shuttle had windows. Tactical combat shuttles had no windows, and—Melin shook her head, trying to physically toss aside those memories. Those times were long past, and she was on a clean slate.

What clean slate she had left.

A fresh start, she’d resolved to think of it when she’d boarded the starship to this sector of Intergalactic Association of Sentient Species space.

A fresh start, take eleven or so.

She’d lost count somewhere around clean slate number five.

But there was no true fresh start for someone who’d received the highest awards in the IASS not once but twice. It had been two years since she’d woken from cryo, and the novelty of her circumstances had worn off. At first, she’d been shepherded from place to place; the long-lost treasure recovered. Although it certainly hadn’t helped IASS fleet when she’d punched that reporter immediately upon her release from the swank veterans’ hospital they’d stashed her in during her long recovery. And the state dinner where she’d spazzed when the servers popped the bubbly. One of the poor busboys wouldn’t walk ever again.

The brass stopped trying to mold her into a puppet, had stopped trying to point her along a destined path. Reporters stopped following her when they’d realized there would be no story.

She was all past with no future. She was even ruined for further military service. No one wanted to work with an operator who couldn’t even use a suit. Who couldn’t do five-dimensional math. Who couldn’t take an implant ever again.

Melin closed her eyes, forehead resting against the cool plex-glass.

She’d failed at every single thing they’d set her to since her waking.

Now, more than ever, she wanted nothing more than to just slide off into the background. She wanted to be something less than a footnote in history.

She wanted to be nothing.

Because without an implant, she was nothing.

Cranial implants had been enhancing humanity for generations. Nearly everyone had one—generally put in at birth or when they took their qualification exams upon entering adulthood. Few people failed to take an implant—although there were several religions focused on maintaining the purity of the human body.

Unimplanted people were rare because there were no jobs beyond the most menial for them. Entire families would scrounge for years for the cheapest model to implant their children and send them to school for a better future and for their children to turn around and raise up their parents in return.

But no one at the upper levels wanted to chance the story of the heroine of the Redelki Wars mopping a floor—and she had no desire to return to her long-fled homeworld.

So, during those nine or ten previous fresh starts and throughout the year of rehab she’d…floated. Unable to face her future, to accept reality, she’d turned herself off. Half-drifting, half-asleep until the only time it seemed she was really awake was while dozing, and even then, she’d wake unrested, troubled by the damn dreams.

They began in cryo-sleep.

The shrinks had insisted she hadn’t—couldn’t have—dreamt, that dreams were impossible because she had been effectively dead, but she had. She had dreamed, those long years as an ice cube. Weird dreams, muddled and glorious and filled with swords and dragons and monsters and creatures from fairy tales and nightmares. Dreams that mixed her life with her great-grandmother’s stories, but it had all been so real.

They had been more real than the monotonous reality of flex this, good, now bend your index finger, good, rotate your wrist, good. Of sterile gray walls and the hot-metal stench of recycled air.

The dreams had faded a couple months after she first woke. When she’d regained words in a language her therapists understood. But she kept seeing flickers of people she had never met in real life but felt so familiar out of the corner of her eyes.

They’d remained intermittent during the never-ending horrors of the grafts and regrowing her arm and the physical therapy, but after she’d been discharged, they grew more persistent.

Months, weeks apart, then quicker, every night, pulling her to a place she’d known only from childhood stories.

Satura.

With nothing else left than the desire to stop the dreams, she had set her sights here, and who would have refused her? She was a hero. The hero. Besides, at that point the IASS wanted her out of their hair. She was a liability, an embarrassment waiting to happen.

Satura had seemed the best place to send her.

It was the end of the line in every sense.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read Universal Link

Meet the Author

Laurel Beckley has been writing ever since she started her first novel the summer before eighth grade—a hand-written epic fantasy catastrophe that has lurked in her mind and an increasingly ratty college-ruled notebook ever since. 

She is a writer, Marine Corps veteran, and librarian.

Website | Twitter

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Blog Tour: Young King Arthur and The Round Table Knights (King Arthur #1) by Siryn Sueng

 

Welcome author Siryn Sueng and IndiGo Marketing on the final blog tour stop for Young King Arthur and The Round Table Knights (King Arthur #1)! The author invited fellow author Chase Conner to share about muses! Check it out and more info about the fantasy retelling today!

Title: Young King Arthur and the Round Table Knights

Series: King Arthur Series Book 1

Author: Siryn Sueng

Publisher: Deep Hearts YA

Release Date: September 18, 2020

Heat Level: 1 - No Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 210 Pages

Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Young Adult, King Arthur Retelling

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Synopsis

There was no reason for Arthur to think he would ever become king.

A peasant and son of a baker, Arthur grew up in the castle town of Camelot. When he attended the Choosing Ceremony, it was merely to see who would draw the Holy Sword, Excalibur—to see who would inherit the throne of the recently departed King Uther. He never expected the sword would choose him…

But it did.

Now, at the young age of fourteen, he has become King Arthur, and for all the power he has gained, he has made just as many enemies. Surrounded by the Knights of the Round Table, and led by the mysterious mage, Merlin, Arthur is grateful for his allies, though he would just as soon return to his old life. Surely, someone more worthy should be chosen as king.

Arthur is in the middle of chaos, a world where everyone wants more than they let on, where many hate the idea of a young boy with no noble background being crowned king; where cold stares and whispered words are just as sharp as an assassin’s blade.

As Arthur fends for his life, he must draw on the strength of his knights, especially fifteen-year-old Mordred, who becomes closer to him than the mere bounds of duty. He must become king, not just in name, but in his heart.

And he must do it quickly, because his enemies want more than just his crown…

Excerpt

“Did you hear?”

“What?”

“They’re holding the Choosing Ceremony! Everyone is heading to the plaza.”

I listened to the conversations that rose up in the streets. Everyone was excited and the town was buzzing with the news.

It had been two weeks since King Uther Pendragon passed. They had finally begun the Choosing Ceremony.

My heart raced. How exciting to go see someone draw the Holy Sword Excalibur from the anvil!

I was in the middle of shopping for my mother when I heard the ruckus. If the Choosing was now, then I wanted to see it. I turned to the woman filling my basket with baking ingredients. Mrs. Lin was a usual stop when shopping for the bakery.

“Are you going, Arthur?” she asked.

“Yes, I want to see. It’s exciting to think of who might draw the blade,” I said.

“It can be scary too,” she said.

“Scary? How?”

“What if someone who is unsuited draws the blade? What should we do, then? The ceremony is final. No one can withdraw who takes that blade from the anvil. If a young, hot-headed boy draws the blade, then Camelot is doomed, don’t you agree?”

My smile wavered. I gave her a stiff laugh. “Oh, Mrs. Lin. The Holy Sword wouldn’t choose someone so unworthy. I bet it’ll choose one of the knights. Gawain would be a good choice, don’t you think?”

“I doubt the sword would choose one of the knights, my dear. Hurry along. You should go quickly if you wish to watch the Choosing. And tell your mother hello for me.”

I gathered up the rest of what I needed. After giving her my thanks, I rushed down the street and followed the crowd into the plaza.

I was astonished at how many people showed up to the Choosing. Up on the platform was the anvil and the Holy Sword protruding from it. The silver handle glinted in the afternoon sun. Gems that lined the handle glistened and only increased the beauty of the weapon that was stuck in the dull gray metal chunk.

Silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by hushed whispers from some who gathered in the crowd. A group of people lined up to try their hand at pulling the sword from the anvil, but I was too far back to make out who they were. Ducking down, I wiggled my way forward, apologizing when some of the townspeople grumbled at me in anger for pushing too much, or stepping on toes. By the time I worked my way close enough to the anvil, one of the men up on the platform had started talking.

I didn’t listen to what he was saying. It was mostly about the meaning of the sword and about the responsibilities of who would draw the Holy Sword. Everyone knew that the holder of the blade would become the next King of Camelot. It was a story told to everyone since they were children, and it was something a lot of children often dreamed of, myself included.

Once I was closer to the front, the man who had spoken bowed and stepped back. My eyes went wide. It was Merlin!

I had the feeling it was the legendary mage only because of how he was dressed. It was so different from the others. He wore fitted robes that curved to his muscular body, and there was a pleasant demeanor to his handsome face. The robes were blue and purple in color and the way he wore them had the front opened so everyone could see the curve of his chest and the chiseled muscle there.

My heart leapt.

He was beautiful to look at. His steel gray eyes and dark hair that looked like a tumbled mess were all too attractive. I was captivated by him for quite some time, so much that I forgot to see who was trying to pull the sword from the anvil. When the crowd all groaned together, I looked up to see one man walking away with a frown on his face. I didn’t know who he was, but he was dressed finely.

Must be a lord from some place, I thought. I looked over to the next one in line and noted the armor this man wore. However, he wasn’t a knight of the Round Table. He seemed just a soldier or someone of noble birth. In fact, many of the people who tried were nobles of some sort from all around the kingdom.

I watched with bated breath every time a pair of hands wrapped around the hilt of the sparkling weapon. Each person who stepped up had my heart pounding. I leaned forward against the wooden fence that blocked off the Choosing Ceremony. One by one they shuffled by, each one no better than the last as they tried their hardest to pull the weapon from its steel prison.

As the line dwindled down, the people in the crowd began to murmur.

“Is the sword going to choose anyone? What if it chooses no one?”

“Impossible, the sword will choose someone.”

“But what if it doesn’t?”

Men and women went back and forth on the subject and the more they talked, the more insecure the tension in the crowd grew. I looked around at all the faces. There was worry and fear painting many of them while others just seemed unsure of it all. I returned my attention to the platform and gasped as I saw someone I never expected approaching the sword.

At first, I was frozen in shock. Why would my cousin be trying to draw the sword? Worst of all, he was dressed as a knight when I knew all too well he was not one.

Impersonating a knight was a high offense and depending on the ruler, it may be a death sentence.

I was moving before I knew it, the contents of my basket scattering to the ground. Ducking under the rail, I rushed up onto the platform, startling everyone. I could hear their gasps and some shouts for me to get down, but I ignored them.

“Illian! What are you doing?” I hissed as I got between him and the sword.

Illian glared at me. “Move, Arthur.”

“No! You can’t be up here, let alone impersonating a knight! Couldn’t you wait? The Choosing Ceremony is offered to all!”

“Fool! Why would I wait until after the nobles, knights, and royals got to try? If one of them pulled it…I would miss my chance!”

“Illian!”

“What is the meaning of this?” It was Merlin who asked. I flinched back a little, but I didn’t move as the mage got close to us.

I turned to him and put my hands together. “Please, Sir Merlin, forgive my cousin, but he’s not a knight!”

“You!” Illian snarled at me and Merlin looked between the two of us.

“Impersonating a knight,” Merlin began, then his lips twisted into a rather devilish smile. “My, aren’t you brave. Or stupid.”

“Please! Forgive him! Illian, let’s go, please. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“You have no right, Arthur,” Illian snapped. He lunged forward, giving me a hard shove. Illian’s larger size worked to his advantage and his action threw me backwards. I yelped and reached out for something, anything, to stop my tumble off the platform.

I grasped the handle of the Holy Sword to try and stop my fall, but instead of stopping, I kept going. I flailed as I fell off the platform. I hit the ground hard and coughed as the air was knocked from my lungs.

I lay on the ground for a few moments trying to regain my senses. In my hand, I could feel something digging into my palm. A jewel from the sword, perhaps? Something had come free when I’d reached out. It made sense a jewel would snap off during my stumbling. Sitting upright, I looked down at what was in my hand. It was the Holy Sword! I was in so much shock that I dropped the weapon and scrambled away from it.

I looked around. Everyone’s faces were filled with shock. The silence was so heavy it hurt my ears. I was panting, fear clutching my chest as I sat there on the ground beneath all those astonished looks. It wasn’t until someone knelt before me that I pulled away from the agonizing scrutiny of the townspeople.

“Stand up.” The order was kind, despite being hard on my hearing. “Come on, I need to test this.”

I turned to see who’d spoken. Merlin stood over me. “Sir Merlin…”

He offered his free hand to me. In the other he had the blade that I’d fearfully tossed away from me.

I took his hand and he hauled me up to my feet. His grip tightened as he led me back up onto the platform. I was certain he held so firmly because he didn’t want me to run away. If not for that, I would have run from the plaza and probably farther.

Merlin had me stand in front of the anvil. He slid the blade back in. Once it clicked, he gave a testing tug and the weapon remained locked inside.

He looked behind me and I turned to see who he had set his eyes upon. Illian was being held by two knights who I recognized, since they patrolled the castle town. And of course, everyone knew who the Knights of the Round Table were. Lancelot was on Illian’s right and Tristan was on his left. Both knights held each of my cousin’s arms tightly.

Merlin beckoned with his fingers. “Come here, impersonator. If you so wish to take the sword, then by all means do try.”

To me, Merlin’s smile was mocking.

Illian pulled free of the two knights and stepped forward, a scowl on his face. I moved, letting my cousin step up to the anvil. For a moment, he hesitated as he gazed at the sword. He reached out slowly and wrapped his hands around the hilt. He took a deep breath, then pulled. I knew he put every ounce of his strength behind it, and yet the Holy Sword was stuck fast in its prison once more.

He might have continued to pull all day, but Merlin put his hand on Illian’s shoulder and forced him back, away from the sword. The mage looked at me and motioned toward the sword. I swallowed dryly but moved to take the spot before the decorated hilt. My hands trembled as I gingerly gripped the Holy Sword.

It took no effort at all, like pulling a kitchen knife from warm butter. The blade slid free and I stood in awe with it.

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Author Visit

See today's guest post from Siryn’s friend and fellow author Chase Conner below!

Summoning the Muse

Have you ever noticed how all different artistic mediums tend to overlap in some way? For example, the music—instrumental or otherwise—that accompanies a scene in a movie can elevate it? In Pulp Fiction, Vincent Vega and Mia Wallace could have danced to any song at Jack Rabbit Slim’s, but Chuck Berry’s You Never Can Tell was perfection. The entire band, the Band Aids, everyone, singing Tiny Dancer by Elton John on the bus in Almost Famous? Brilliant. These scenes paired perfectly with the songs and created nothing short of magic.

Those are scenes everyone remembers, even if they never saw the films.

I’ve written blog posts before about coaxing the muse. I’ve also written about how I curate playlists for each project that I’m working on. Lately, I’ve wondered if the two things are not intertwined.

When I play just the right music for the project I’m working on, the words seem to flow from my brain, down to my fingertips, and onto the computer screen as I tap away furiously at my keyboard. It’s like I couldn’t even stop myself if I wanted to—but that’s obviously the last thing on my mind. Those moments are pure magic, as though I’m not even writing. It’s as if the thoughts in my brain are seeping out of me and into the computer.

Like much dryer osmosis.

During writing sessions when this happens—when the magic flows—it occurs to me that maybe a writer can actually summon the muse. We don’t always have to wait for them to show up whenever they feel like it. It’s possible that setting the scene will coax that elusive little gremlin out of hiding and into our workspace. It’s almost like seducing a lover. A little candlelight, some champagne, roses, chocolates…and the mood is set.

Except the writer is trying to get lucky in a different way.

Often, us writers sit around, twiddling our thumbs, getting increasingly frustrated, as we wait for our muse to show up and inspire us. It’s enough to make a writer pound their head against their desk, hoping an idea will dislodge, rattle around, and fall into the right place in their brain to get them writing. Of course, banging your head against a desk is a terrible idea and will result in a trip to the emergency room instead of hitting your word count for the day. I don’t recommend it.

However, the muse, for me, tends to really enjoy music. She likes it when the music I’m listening to matches the mood of the scene I’m writing. She really likes it when the playlist seems like it could be the soundtrack to the book if it ever got made into a movie.

For example, when I was writing A SURPLUS OF LIGHT, songs such as First Aid Kit’s version of America, In Need by Sheryl Crow, Big Love by Fleetwood Mac, and You Turn Me On, I’m A Radio by Joni Mitchell were played often.

When I wrote GINJUH, Florence + the Machine, Ed Sheeran, Tori Amos, Tom Waits, Nick Cave, The Smiths, Ryan Adams, The Jesus and Mary Chain, Landon Pigg, and—again—Joni Mitchell, got played a lot. That’s what the muse enjoyed for that book.

The JUST A DUMB SURFER DUDE trilogy had me playing a lot of Kimya Dawson, Night Terrors of 1927, Sick Puppies, Ruse, Sleeper Agent, Bombay Bicycle Club, and Gran Ronde. Those bands/artists and the songs by them just fit the mood in a way that made the muse want to come out and play.

“Okay.” She seemed to say. “I’m feeling what you’re doing here. I’ll play.”

Look, I won’t lie to anyone. Some writers can sit down and pound out a thousand words without even batting an eye. Just roll out of bed, stumble to the computer, and go to town. The rest of us…struggle. It’s not that we don’t want to write, that we don’t know what we want to write, or that we don’t have plenty of ideas. Sometimes the words just can’t get from Point A (our brains) to Point B (the page) easily. We need some help.

We need the muse.

So, if I was going to offer advice to other writers about how to summon their muse, it would be to set the mood. Seduce them. Treat them like they deserve to be treated. Put on some mood music, get them in the mood of the story, and see if they show up quicker.

We all know the muse is really just our inspiration aligning with our skills and desire to create art. A perfect storm for the act of creating. It’s not really a being of some kind hovering over our shoulder, whispering in our ear. Sometimes you have to pretend, though. Treat the muse like it’s a real person, treat it how you’d want to be treated, and the rest will come.

Chase Connor currently lives in Des Moines, Iowa with his husband, his dog, Rimbaud, and spends his days writing about the people who live (loudly and rent-free) in his head when he’s not busy being enthusiastic about naps and Pad Thai. Chase started his writing career as a confused gay teen looking for an escape from reality. Ten years later, one of the books he wrote during those years, Just A Dumb Surfer Dude: A Gay Coming-of-Age Tale, was published independently. Now with The Lion Fish Press (and almost 20 books later), Chase has numerous projects in various stages of completion and lined up for publishing. Chase is a multi-genre author, but always with a healthy dollop of gay. Chase can be reached at chaseconnor@chaseconnor.com

Meet the Author

Siryn Sueng is a writer of fantasy, paranormal, and even Sci-Fi genres. She’s married to a wonderful husband with a minion of two years. They have a full house with three adorable fur babies, Anubis -the mighty cat hunter- Kida -the momma bear- and Mishka -the loveable husky-.

Siryn is a lover of games on a wide range of platforms. She plays on the PC, console, and hand-held devices including the phone. Japan is where she would love to visit sometime and is a huge inspiration to many of her projects. She’s a huge fan of Japan, including manga and anime. Siryn has even begun to dabble in comic/manga script writing. Future works in this will be posted on WebToon. Find Siryn on Twitter or send her an eMail.

Tour Schedule

12/16 Bayou Book Junkie

12/17 MM Good Book Reviews

12/18 Love Bytes

12/19 My Fiction Nook

12/20 Boy Meets Boy Reviews

Guest Review: Witch Under Wraps (Mythmatched #2) by E.J. Russell

When supernatural secrets collide, it’ll take more than coffee to brew the perfect love.

When Ky Hernández bonded with his familiar, Zuri, his life changed forever. Their connection turned him into a practicing witch and led him to his calling as a medimagical professional. However, it totally tanked his love life—what guy would settle for eternal second place behind a parrot? So Ky keeps his witchy nature under wraps and sticks to hookups with humans, which can never go anywhere. But the mouthwatering barista at the coffee shop next door makes him thirst for more than a caffeine fix.

The charms Ewan Jones uses to appear human are inconvenient, disorienting, and . . . necessary. Ewan and his siblings are achubyddion, metaphysical healers whose powers are coveted by unscrupulous supernatural beings. And let’s face it: all supes are unscrupulous, given the right incentive. He’s grateful for the protections that hide his little family, and for the barista job that keeps them housed and fed. He’s just so lonely. And his regular, Ky, the super-hot, commitment-averse EMT, seems like the perfect candidate for a one-night shot at intimacy. After all, humans are no threat.

It takes a clumsy coffee shop intern, a mysterious werewolf epidemic, and one snarky parrot to unravel their pasts—and give them a chance at a future.

Reviewer: Shee Reader

This book has charming characters, lovely world building and a complicated story wound around Ky and Ewan.

They are both pretending to be something they are not (human) and they both get more than they bargained for!

The connection between these two lovely men is warming and enjoyable, but neither is telling the whole truth. Ewan wants to give Ky the gift of his virginity knowing Ky is not interested in a relationship. Ewan has to avoid any connections he can to keep his sister and little foster brother safe. Once they tough though, all bets are off!

I enjoyed the snarky sidekick, Zuri, and the hilarious coffee shop intern who blunders about blabbing supernatural secrets and spilling everything.

This story has witty dialogue and the triumph of good over evil and plenty of HEA to be had, even though Ky and Ewan had to go through so much to get to theirs. The mysterious wolf epidemic and the oblivious humans living alongside a wide range of super all added to the charm of the story. If anything, I would have enjoyed more relationship building between our MC’s but they got there in the end.

Recommended.

I received a free copy of the book in exchange for an honest review.

Blog Tour + Giveaway: Finally Home - Josiah by K-lee Klein

Welcome author K-lee Klein and Other Worlds Ink visit on the Finally Home - Josiah blog tour! Discover more about the contemporary romance and enter in the $15 Amazon gift card giveaway! 

K-Lee Klein has a new MM contemporary western romance out: "Finally Home - Josiah." And there's a giveaway!

Josiah Nelson left the family home where his father’s bullying and his own fears made life a penance, swearing never to return. Now he has a funeral to arrange, another joyless Christmas holiday to survive, and a ranch to sell, before he can finally wipe the last dust of his childhood off his shoes and settle into his lonely big city life.

When he arrives in his hometown, Wyatt Ames is still there, still out and proud and everything Josiah secretly wanted when they were growing up. He can’t help feeling a tiny, fragile hope that this time, things might turn out differently. Especially when Wyatt seems set on teaching him that home isn’t the house you live in. It’s the place where your heart belongs.

Amazon | iBooks | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

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Giveaway

K-Lee is giving away a $15 Amazon Gift Card with this tour. Enter via Rafflecopter:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47164/?

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Excerpt

It was like a bad dream come to life. Not the kind where a monster is hiding in the closet ready to eat your face, but more like an unending loop of being stuck somewhere you just didn’t want to be.

Home.

Josiah Nelson hadn’t thought of the old ranch that way in a long time. Yet there he was, ramping up the old weathered steps to his childhood home, and regretting every minute of it.

The high-pitched squeal of the old weathered screen door shook the silence of the chilly night air when Josiah tugged it open. It startled him, bringing a rush of memories to the forefront of his mind, some good but mostly bad. Stepping over the broken door frame, he slipped inside the all-too-familiar house. That particular board had been broken since he was a child and someone should have fixed it long ago—maybe he should have taken a little more responsibility around the old place, but soon, it wouldn’t be his problem.

The musty smell hit him first; earthy, damp like like a moldy pair of wet socks. He wrinkled his nose when the underlying scent of pine cleaner assaulted his sinuses next. Someone had obviously tried to scrub away the history of the place, the bad memories that held anger and dysfunction. It was probably the most disconcerting aspect of walking into the house. After Josiah's mom died, his daddy's domestic skills hadn't changed, hadn’t improved, in the least. Anything that didn't involve horses, trucks, or beer had been half-assed at best and apparently age hadn’t changed his daddy’s habits.

Gosh, had it really really been eight years since him mama had been gone? He supposed they were together again—if you believed in that kind of thing—thought his mom was more suited to heaven while his father should be further south. Cancer had taken them both; different kinds, different years, but the same body-ravaging killer.

His mama’s death had been the hardest time of his life. The offered sympathies he’d been offered when she passed still burned a hole in his heart—she's in a better place, at least she's not suffering anymore, she wouldn't want you to be sad. It had disturbed him, made him angry. Did they expect him to not mourn? To just let her go and wash his hands of all she’d meant to him? Josiah hadn’t been ready to let her go, but how much of a monster would he have been to want to prolong her last few months of suffering.

Losing her had made Josiah’s world so much smaller, so much unhappier and dark. It was cliché to say she’d been his rock, his best friend, but it was true. He’d been left with a father who was practically a stranger, and well, that was a whole different can of worms.

Coming home brought back so many deep-buried regrets, guilt that rocked him to the core on bad days. Josiah imagined most people felt those same things and learned to deal with them, but he wore his like a badge of disgrace or failure or both.

He closed his eyes, concentrating as he inhaled deeply then slowly let it out. The unwanted, unsummoned, emotions that threatened to send him huddling into the corner like the child he’d once been, had to be set aside, shoved back in that overflowing box at the back of his mind. If he was going to fall apart it couldn’t be in the first five minutes of stepping into the place. His mind and heart had to be clear and open, and he had to be able to deal with everything before any feelings could be allowed to run loose. Sprawling into an emotional abyss of emptiness would have to wait.

He reminded himself that it was only for a few days, at least he hoped that’s all it would take to get things in order and leave the rest in the lawyer’s hands. A few days and he could leave all this behind again, go back to the sad life he’d built himself. Sad but exempt from the pain of the past.

But good intentions didn’t always pan out and Josiah’s true feelings scurried to the surface as he trailed shaky fingers over his mom’s cherished antique buffet table His was breathless and hot tears stung his eyes when he caught sight of the plain, white urn. It was pushed to the side of the credenza like an after-thought, rather than holding a place of honor where it belonged. Though he supposed the glass vase’s importance had been lost when it’s intended use had been ignored and overruled.

Before her death, Josiah’s mama had picked out her own urn. She liked the pretty dragonflies pressed into the base and the simple shape and color. Josiah’s biggest regret was buried deep in the bottom of the empty vase. Mama had wanted to be cremated, had made it very clear when she brought her purchase home.

“Sprinkle some of my old ashes by the pond, Josi. Then I’ll always be here to watch over you. I’ll always be close.”

He missed her so much, not a day went by that he didn’t think about what he’d lost that sorrowful day. And even worse, he’d failed her last request.

Because the awful fact was that she was buried in a dark box in the wet ground, rather than being scattered around the pond and spending the rest of eternity in that stupid urn. Josiah’s father had made the final decision. The stubborn old bastard refused to pay the extra cost of cremation.

Instead he’d put his beloved wife of twenty-eight years in the cheapest casket he could find, then buried her in the local cemetery. Josiah had been afforded no say in the matter and his father had dismissed his wife’s last request like yesterday’s news. Knowing the man better than he’d ever wanted, his decision shouldn’t have been a shock to Josiah.

Now eight years later the rage remined, fueled with unsaid words for his dad. And Josiah would be damned if he’d fulfill any wish his old man might have—Christmas or not.

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Author Bio

K-lee Klein grew up in the beautiful mountains of British Columbia and now lives only two hours away in Calgary, Alberta. Her life is blessed by three now-grown (but still spoiled) kids and a new, adorable grandson who calls her Gwaa Gwaa. She has a patient husband of over thirty years and spends her days being bossed around by a kitten named Poe, a senior feline called, Miss Chili, and a canine, Princess Chewie.

K-lee’s writing muse is terribly temperamental so to keep him close by and in-check, she had him inked on her left calf. Yet she still writes on his schedule and inspiration, and quite honestly, he can be a bit of a drama queen. K-lee writes mostly contemporary but has forayed into paranormal and urban fantasy, and her favorite tropes to write and read are hurt-comfort, friends to lovers, opposites attract, and relationships with children. Her biggest accomplishment as an author was overcoming all the hurdles to transition from publisher releases to her first self-published book.

Although K-lee considers herself to be an extroverted introvert and revels in her solitude, she very much enjoys traveling to conferences to meet up with friends old and new. She’s grateful for all the people in her life who accept her as she is and support her through the ups and downs as a mom, wife, friend, and joyfully obsessed writer.

Author Website: https://kleeklein.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/kleemoon

Author Facebook (Author Group): https://www.facebook.com/groups/812548795471921

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

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

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5073338.K_lee_Klein

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/k-lee-klein/

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/K-lee-Klein/e/B008FGA6FA%3Fref=dbs_a_mng_rwt_scns_share

Release Blitz: Bonded (Latent Series#2) by Alana Timms

 

Author Alana Timms and Gay Book Promotions host today's release blitz for paranormal fated mates romance, Bonded (Latent #2)! Read more about the rivals to lovers romance today!

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Bonded (Latent Series Book 2)

Author: Alana Timms

Publisher: Self-published

Cover Artist: Resplendent Media

Release Date:  December 11, 2020

Genre/s: Paranormal M/M Romance, LGBT Action & Adventure

Trope/s: Fated mates, alpha/omega, rivals-to-lovers, hurt/comfort

Themes: Redemption, overcoming obstacles

Length: 174 pages

Heat Rating:  5 flames    

It is book 2 in the Latent Series.

Goodreads

 

Buy Links - Available on Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |   Amazon UK  

 

They’re bond-mates. They’re rivals.

Only one of them can take the prize…may the best wolf win.

Blurb

They’re bond-mates. They’re rivals. Only one of them can take the prize…may the best wolf win.

Alpha Zach Logan is taking part in the Top Dog survival challenge to secure his billion-dollar inheritance. The odds are in his favor. He has awakened his latent wolf, becoming the first verified shifter in over a century; no way can he lose. But his biggest rival is also his bond-mate, the omega he’s destined to spend the rest of his life with. Can Zach keep their conflict from spilling over into the bedroom?

Omega Sebastian Gage came to the Island to win. That trophy is his, and he will fight anyone for it. Yes, including his bond-mate, who is smart and generous and doesn’t deserve to lose. But them’s the breaks, because Sebastian needs this win to free himself from unjust suppressed shifter laws that limit omega rights.

The Island isn’t a tame playground, however, and not every competitor plays fair. Will the deadly game tear Zach and Sebastian’s fragile bond apart, or will love come out on top?



Bonded is Book 2 of the steamy paranormal m/m romance series Latent. If you like high stakes, sizzling chemistry and fiercely protective shifters, you’ll love Alana Timms’s wild adventure.

Bonded is best read after Fever, Book 1 of the Latent series. Unresolved plot elements make this story’s strong HFN ending a cliffhanger. Themes include hurt/comfort, pack dynamics, fated mates and rivals-to-lovers. Bonded contains adult material and is not intended for audiences under 18. Includes steamy scenes, strong language, violence and minor character death.



Excerpt

Outside on the deck, Sebastian set the table with a crisp white table cloth, glasses, and silverware. Table for two under a waxing moon. He lit a couple of candles, placing each in a candle lantern.

Too much? Kill the candles?

Too late; Zach came into sight carrying his backpack and shopping bags. He swept his gaze over Sebastian. Then looked him over again, slower, eating him up. Sebastian shivered; he couldn’t hold the ocean breeze responsible for it. Not when his pulse raced as well. Zach dumped the bags, and prowled onto the deck. He fucking prowled, telegraphing his X-rated thoughts through a subtle change in his scent and the fierce intent in his darkened gaze.

“You look good,” said Zach.

His voice was laced with gravel; a near-growl that pitched Sebastian into full-blown lust. His stiffening dick pushed at the front panel of his kilt. His hole clenched hard around the butt-plug, wild for the real thing.

“Thanks?” Sebastian heard it, the uncertainty as though he were asking a question. He injected more authority into his voice. “You too. I like the haircut.”

Zach smiled. His dimples told a lie. Cute, they said, adorable.

Yeah, same way a tiger was adorable. Zach’s aura pulsated with barely leashed power. Raw and intoxicating, it put a dent in Sebastian’s authority. He hated this shift in their dynamics. But he loved how hot Zach made him feel.

“You’ve been busy,” said Zach, stopping within kissing distance.

So why weren’t they doing that, kissing? He couldn’t think of a good reason why Zach’s tongue wasn’t in his mouth. “Busy? You mean the table?”

“I mean busy claiming points for nailing my ass.”

He was supposed to feel guilty, but that was difficult to do given the memory of him fucking Zach through the jungle floor. “Oh, that.”

“Yeah, we’re not doing that anymore.”

A flare of panic. “What, nailing your ass?”

“Sex points.” Zach grabbed his hips and walked him backwards across the deck until his back hit the wall. “We’re not claiming points for sex anymore, Sebastian.”

Wedged between a wall and a hard Zach, staying on topic was becoming a real problem. He curled his hands on Zach’s shoulders, his fingers twitching as a tide of sensation swept through him from Zach.

“It’s the rules, Zach. We have to put in claims for all transactions.”

A muscle ticked in Zach’s jaw. He exhaled with force. “Apart from intimate ones, those are ours. They’re between me and you. Not between you, me, and the Auditors.”

Intimate was exactly it. A tide of intimacy flowing between them. He’d swear it was the bond creating new pathways, opening them up to each other. He bent his head a little to line his mouth up with Zach’s.

Zach kissed him softly, taking such infinite care that Sebastian lost his breath.

“How much for that, Seb? Ten points, a hundred? How about this?” Zach asked, and kissed him again.

No softness this time. Zach took what he wanted with the demanding sweep of his tongue. Sebastian let him in on a throaty moan, basking in pleasure. And sighing in frustration when Zach pulled back.

“Answer me. How many points?”

He tipped his head back to rest it against the wall, all kinds of turned on by Zach’s commanding tone. “I get it, all right? Points are stupid. But can we just play the game like it’s supposed to be played? Please?”

“It’s none of their business what goes on between us, Seb.”

He recognized stubborn when he saw it. Zach wouldn’t budge on this. But neither would he, because he wasn’t about to risk getting fined for flouting the rules.

“A foot race,” he said. “I win, we forget this conversation ever happened. You win, we quit claiming sex points.”

Zach cocked his head. “You’re challenging me?”

“Yes, I am.”

Zach’s eyes flashed, his smile wolfish. “Challenge accepted.”

His own wolf stirred at the flashing eyes: tread carefully. But there was no risk involved here, was there? He could break free of Zach’s grip on his hips any time he wanted.

What he wanted were more kisses.

About the Author

Alana is an avid fan of romance novels, mostly reading m/m romance. Drawn to growly alphas and their feisty omegas, she set out to write her debut paranormal m/m romance trilogy, Latent. Alana loves to write flawed characters and works at giving them complexity. Their paths to happiness may not be smooth, but they always get there in the end! When she’s not reading or writing, Alana enjoys hiking in the forests and beaches near her home on the east coast of England.   

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Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

Follow the tour and check out the other blog posts here

 

Release Blitz + Giveaway: Make the Yuletide Gay by Ivy L. James

 

Author Ivy L. James and Indigo Marketing celebrate the release of holiday romance, Make the Yuletide Gay! Read more about the office romance and enter in the $10 NineStar Press credit giveaway! 

Title: Make the Yuletide Gay

Author: Ivy L. James

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: December 14, 2020

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 24700

Genre: Contemporary Holiday, LGBTQIA+, contemporary, romance, lesbian, editors, publishing, seasonal/holiday/Christmas, age-gap, coworkers, office affair, road trip, hot chocolate

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

Junior editor Grace Taylor is doubling as the temporary assistant to senior editor Nicola Valentine…and harboring a secret crush on her. Grace is devastated when a work conference forces her to miss her big family Christmas. However, she gets a gift she doesn’t expect when a snowstorm strands her and Nicola at a small B&B.

Nicola has no idea how to handle sharing a room with her gorgeous, vibrant assistant. As she learns to share her heart as well, her fear threatens the blossoming relationship. Can she let Grace in, or will Nicola’s past sabotage her chance at happiness?

Excerpt

Make the Yuletide Gay
Ivy L. James © 2020
All Rights Reserved

Grace Taylor, junior editor at Pembroke Press, had doubled as the temporary assistant to senior editor Nicola Valentine for two weeks now, and she had mixed feelings about the whole thing.

Pros of working so closely with Nicola:

It might provide an advantage when promotion time came around.
Grace saw Nicola’s beautiful, beautiful face all day.
When not seeing her beautiful, beautiful face, she saw her beautiful, beautiful ass.
God, she was beautiful.

Cons of working so closely with Nicola:

Grace had to see her beautiful, beautiful face all day.
When not seeing her beautiful, beautiful face, she had to see her beautiful, beautiful ass.
God, she was beautiful.

For obvious reasons, Grace kept these thoughts to herself.

At least she had the week of Christmas off. Some time away from the office—far away—might help reset her brain. There was nothing like her moms’ obsession with tinsel and oversized yard décor to get a girl’s mind off real life.

But right now, real life offered her a direct view of Nicola leaning against her oak desk during a conference call, and visions of sugar plums dissipated from Grace’s head.

The lamplight gleamed on the silk of Nicola’s deep-blue blouse, highlighting her curves, business tinted with pleasure. The neckline dipped low to bare smooth brown skin and a tempting shadow of cleavage. Her charcoal-gray pencil skirt fit tight over full hips and ass, and with her ever-present high heels… God.

Phone tucked between her shoulder and ear, Nicola traced the edge of the desk, her slim fingers tipped in short, gray-polished nails.

Grace sucked in a breath.

Those nails scraping on her skin, with the heels and prim clothes scattered across her apartment floor…

Not that that’s ever happening. Grace had no illusions about office relationships, casual or otherwise. It never ended well for anyone involved. Still…when she went home, no one had to know she fantasized about going to Nicola’s desk, with that silky shirt unbuttoned and dark hair loose, and pulling her into a deep, lazy kiss.

Late at night, the fantasy darkened. Panting breaths, exploring hands, parting legs…

You can’t think about this at work. She huffed and stalked over to the employee break room to busy her hands with preparing the morning coffees—one with plenty of creamer, one black. The beige office walls and bland cubicles around her did nothing to reflect the holiday season.

When Nicola ended the call, Grace opened the office door and offered her the second steaming mug. “How’s your morning so far?”

Nicola swigged from the cup, unfazed by the heat and bitterness. “I just learned I have to cancel my holiday plans to attend a work conference that Craig was supposed to cover. So I’ve had better.”

Craig Harkness, the other senior editor. Grace winced. “That sucks. Is it at least nearby?”

Nicola’s lips twisted into a humorless smile. “Of course not. It’s in Maine.”

Over a ten-hour drive away from their work in Washington, D.C. “Oh, no, will you—?”

“And, of course, I’ll need you with me.”

Grace froze.

“Between the holiday and the late notice, there aren’t any flights left, so we’ll take my car. We leave tomorrow, return next Saturday.”

Maine? For the entire week? Her brain threw up a blue screen of death, and she laughed. “Sorry, what?” You can’t possibly have said… No. No way.

Nicola scrolled through something on her phone screen. “I know it’s last minute. The company will reimburse you for any cancellations you have to make, plus our meals and accommodations, and you’ll get overtime. But you’ll need to go. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.” When she glanced up, she really did look apologetic. “I know it’s not ideal.”

Not ideal? Grace’s family. Her traditional Christmas. Her chance to get Nicola Valentine out of her head. So close, and yet so far away. “I’m not sure I understand.”

With a tsk, Nicola set aside her coffee mug. “It’s the publishing conference of the year. If Pembroke Press isn’t there, we’re screwed. And Craig had some sort of personal emergency—” Her jaw ticked despite her even tone. “—so it falls to me. And I need my assistant with me to help keep everything on track.”

But I have to go? Grace had only been an in-office assistant so far. Scheduling meetings, answering emails, entering data in spreadsheets. Small things, relatively speaking. Conference of the year? What if I screw it up for her?

But she’d volunteered to assist, and she didn’t have the sway to say no. Not to mention the ever-looming mountain of college debt. I need this job.

Nicola stared at her with an are-you-stupid look. “Well?”

It wasn’t a question.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read Universal Link

 

Meet the Author

Ivy L. James wrote her first story on Post-it notes as a child. Since then, she has graduated to regular paper and enjoys writing inclusive, heartwarming romance as a way to counterbalance the negativity in the world. She lives in Maryland with her partner and their corgi, cat, and two snakes.

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Review: Changes Going On (Changes #2) by Kaje Harper

Three men, one summer of media, mentorship, and murder. 

There's a reason Scott Edison came out as gay and poly on national TV— now no one can try to push him back into the closet. But as his men and his hockey team deal with the fallout from fans and paparazzi, moving forward isn't as easy as he'd hoped. 

Will Rice was looking forward to a quiet summer, sharing the work with his guys and giving Scott a refuge from the spotlight. He's hired a couple of young ranch hands, and finally feels ready to give back some of the mentoring that turned his life around decades ago. But good fences won't be enough to keep trouble off the ranch. 

Casey Barlow left the Sheriff's Department on his own terms, out and proud. But when the new sheriff is murdered— and Casey's one of the few with a watertight alibi— he's asked to investigate, and he can't resist. He's determined to solve the murder, and still take care of his men on the home front. Then one murder becomes two… 

It's a summer of risks and challenges, and working together is the only way they'll make it through.

Changes Coming Down, the first in the Changes series ended on a bombshell that closed all the loops but left the door wide open for more. I do appreciate when that happens when I’m committing to a series. Not to mention committing to characters that I’ve become so enamored with. Scott, Will and Casey are such perfect pieces that fit into their relationship puzzle in the best way. I already knew I was in for the Changes series, maybe a quarter of the way into the first book. Kaje Harper built the foundation so well, it’s a true character driven story, so I want to read about them for the long haul, regardless of what’s going on in their lives. 

And hey, what do you know, there’s a lot going on in their lives. Given how Changes Coming Down ended, with Scott coming out to the world, it’s no wonder. Sometimes it can be tough to pick up where you left off while waiting for the next installment of a series, but the recap was just enough and melded with the beginning of Changes Going On seamlessly. 

Three characters with three story arcs that intersect and weave could be overwhelming, but on the contrary, the stories complimented one another and added even more depth to the already fully fleshed out story. Scott is dealing with the PR fallout of his coming out. Will is finding his place and reconciling with his childhood. Casey is back to work in law enforcement in a role that suits him well. I love how the author builds up each character individually, so I feel like I know them as independently as well as in the context of their relationship. And given they are in a throuple relationship, the separation is so important to be able to take them seriously as characters and not just a vehicle for a three-way.

Each one of the guys bring many things to the table in their relationship. Scott is the light that Will and Casey need. Casey is intense and Will is stoic, they need Scott to remind them to enjoy the little things. Will, oh my sweet, wonderful Will, is a rock. We should all be lucky enough to have a Will in our lives in some capacity. My hear always aches for him a bit and I was so thankful to be able to read his history. It explained why my hear ached every time! I knew he had a rough start, but damn. The fact that he grew into such a good human says so much about his strong character. I just want more people to see him like Scott and Casey do. Casey is the great protector (not that Scott and Will need that necessarily in a literal sense) but everyone needs to feel safe and I think Will and Scott need that especially. 

There was bonus action and mystery to go along with all the evolution happening in the relationship. Like I said, the series is character driven, but there is still plenty of plot to round out the individual stories. There is plenty of conflict, but it’s external and to be expected considering everything happening. The positive and negative are there, anything else would have been, unfortunately, unbelievable. Especially for Scott. The relationship between the three of them is solid. They communicate verbally and physically, so that no matter what is happening, there is confidence that, at the end of the day, they can come home both physically and metaphorically.

The secondary characters are strong, they added to the plots organically and the young ranch hands were the perfect vehicle for Will to define his purpose beyond ranching. His heart is too big and needed more outlet. Did I mention that I love Will? I love Will. 

Everything wrapped up well in Changes Going On and I don’t know if there will be a third book, but I do hope there will be. In the meantime, I’ll just hope that the series shows up in audiobook format so I can revisit the guys in another way.

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

Audiobook Blog Tour: What Works For Us by Colette Davison

Author Colette Davison and Gay Book Promotions hosts the final tour stop for audio book, What Works for Us! Find out more about the Dan Calley narrated kinky Christmas tale today!

AUDIOBOOK REVIEW TOUR

Book Title: What Works for Us

Author: Colette Davison

Publisher: Independently Published

Narrator: Dan Calley

Release Date:  October 26, 2020

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance

Trope/s: May to December, Daddy Kink, roleplay

Themes: Coming out, self-acceptance

Heat Rating: 4 flames     

Length: 6 hours and 4 minutes

It is a standalone story.

Goodreads

 

Buy Links - Available with Whispersync

Universal link   |  Audible US  |  Audible UK 

 

An elf costume, a pair of lacy knickers, and a Christmas charity auction might make Sam's Christmas wish come true.

Blurb

When sweet barista, Sam, agrees to be a 'slave' in a Christmas charity auction, he's thrilled to be bought by the man he's had a crush on for the last three months.

Theodore is everything Sam is looking for in a man: older, authoritative, and caring. Unfortunately, Sam isn't the most forward person when it comes to telling men he likes them. Wearing a sexy costume allows him to be a much flirtier version of himself, but can a naughty elf tempt Theodore into bed?

As their relationship intensifies, Sam finds something in Theodore he didn't realise he needed: a man he wants to call his Daddy.

But Theodore isn't out of the closet, and whilst Sam is happy existing in a bubble in the run up to Christmas, he knows that can't last forever.

Can Sam risk giving his heart to a Daddy who might not ever be able to hold his hand in public, let alone commit to him?

What Works For Us is a Christmas-ish romance with an age-gap relationship, lacy underwear, role-play, Daddy kink, a smidge of hurt/comfort, and a guaranteed happy ending.

About the Author 

Colette’s personal love story began at university, where she met her future husband. An evening of flirting, in the shadow of Lancaster castle, eventually led to a fairytale wedding. She’s enjoying her own ‘happy ever after’ in the north of England with her husband, two beautiful children and her writing.

Social Media Links

Blog/Website  |   Facebook Page   |  Facebook Group: Colette’s Cosy Corner

BookBub   |   Twitter    |   Goodreads  |  Instagram: @colettedavison

  Mailing List  |   Newsletter Sign-Up

 

 

 

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

 

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