PROMO: When Are You?

Promo

COVER - When Are You?Addison Albright has a new MM time travel romance book out: “When Are You?”.

They have to find him…but how?

A former member of an elite military special forces unit, Leo Bailey can handle anything life throws at him. Except maybe approaching a certain gorgeous, purple mohawk-wearing, heavily pierced artist. Not without his three eye-rolling wingmen along to push him in the right direction.

One look at the mouthwateringly muscled, military buzzcut-sporting man with the endearing blush, and Vincent Noland is in love. Or at least in lust. Love comes later. Then marriage…and sweet, adorable Oscar.

Life is perfect—the stuff of fairy tale happily ever afters—except for Arthur Fletcher, whose unsettling reactions to them threaten to upset the happy balance of their lives. But it isn’t Arthur who throws their lives into turmoil.

A freak event causes Oscar to go missing and leaves both men frantic to rescue their son. As they piece together the clues, they discover that Oscar isn’t somewhere. He’s somewhen. And Arthur Fletcher holds the key—or rather the glass beads—to their one chance of finding Oscar.

Will Leo’s training, Vinnie’s determination, and Arthur’s knowledge help them rescue Oscar, or is the little boy doomed to spend the rest of his life at the mercy of a primitive civilization? Could there be a third possibility?

Publisher | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | QueeRomance Ink | Goodreads


Giveaway

Addison is giving away three sets of a $10 Amazon gift card and a backlist eBook with this tour. For a chance to win, enter via Rafflecopter:

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Excerpt

MEME1 - When Are YouThey reached the quivering wall of air and rushed through it to the sound of the old woman on the bench screaming as their shoes found purchase on the park’s pervious rubber pathway, and they surged forward…then tumbled headlong onto the surface as the counterweight they’d been pulling vanished.

Leo grunted as his forearms scraped along the path. He stared uncomprehendingly at the stroller’s handlebar, still clutched in one hand. The handlebar and about six inches of pole on either side ending with a clean cut.

Leo gaped, unblinking and breathing heavily, at the path behind them. The wavering air…it was gone. The air was normal.

The woman hadn’t stopped screaming. Vinnie was panting—hyperventilating?—and snatching at bits of light green fabric that matched the stroller’s canopy.

“Oscar?” Leo’s voice came out in a squeak. Louder, he repeated, “Oscar?” He sat up and scanned the area. An unrelenting hand clutched his heart. Squeezed it. Squelched it. Liquified it. Oscar was gone. The entire stroller, other than the handlebar, was…gone.

Leo shoved his sunglasses to the top of his head. His breath caught in his throat, and he looked around again. He shouted, “Oscar!”

“No, no, no, no…” Vinnie chanted as he stumbled to his feet and spun around, fruitlessly looking everywhere…anywhere. He snatched another bit of green fabric floating on the air. “No, no, no, no…this isn’t happening.”

“Oscar!” Leo yelled again. His stomach lurched, threatening to heave because their actions were pointless. Wherever they’d been, that’s where Oscar still was. The portal had snapped shut, cutting them off, but every cell in Leo’s body screamed in denial of this reality. “Oscaaaaar!”

The woman stopped shrieking but sucked in rattling breaths behind her hands that now covered her face. Behind them on the path, voices broke through Leo’s focus.

“Oh, my God, did you see that?”

“What the hell just happened?”

“They just disappeared…into…thin air.”

“What happened to the kid?”

“Somebody call 9-1-1!”

In the field, the people who’d been kicking soccer balls had stilled and were staring, wide-eyed.

Vinnie crumpled to the ground, hugged his knees to his chest, bits of green fabric clutched in his hands, and rocked. Leo barely heard Vinnie’s words as they tore his heart in two. “No, no, no, no…”

Leo doubled over and retched. He’d failed Oscar. He’d failed Vinnie. He’d failed. Utterly and completely failed.

He hadn’t cried since middle school, but a garbled sob escaped him now. He dragged a forearm across his mouth and turned back toward where the wavy air had been. “Oscaaaaar!”

“Where did it go?” Vinnie choked on a rattling sob of his own. “Where did it go? We’ve got to go back and get him! Where did it go?”

Leo lifted his face to the sky. “Oscaaaaar!”

The faintest of echoes was the only answer to Leo’s agonized plea.


Author Bio

Addison AlbrightAddison Albright is a writer living in the middle of the USA. Her stories are gay romance in contemporary, fantasy, paranormal, and science fiction genres. She generally adds a subtle touch of humor, a smidgen of drama/angst, and a healthy dose of slice-of-life to her stories. Her education includes a BS in Education with a major in mathematics and a minor in chemistry. Addison loves spending time with her family, reading, popcorn, boating, French fries, “open window weather,” cats, math, and anything chocolate. She loves to read pretty much anything and everything, anytime and anywhere.

Author Website: https://authoraddisonalbright.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/addison.albright.profile

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

Author Twitter: http://twitter.com/AddisonAlbright

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/addison.albright/

Author Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2739864.Addison_Albright

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/addison-albright/

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Addison-Albright/e/B00J119QGS/

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PROMO: Going Down

Promo

COVER - Going Down - Lady Jaguar

Lady Jaguar has a new MM erotic action-adventure romance out: “Going Down.”

A misunderstanding leads to seduction, then a life-changing job offer…

Tino Santini is calm and decent with a core of steel, qualities he needs when he is offered the role of PA to ferocious CEO, Richard Mason.

The opportunity arises after Tino is trapped with Mason in the office elevator just before Thanksgiving. A bottle of brandy kickstarts a night of scorching sex which does wonders for Tino’s flagging career.

Pansexual multi-millionaire, Richard, has it all; wealth, success, commitment-free sex every time he snaps his fingers, but a former female lover, a New York gangster and a murky past all threaten to destroy his chance of happiness.

Tino gradually learns who his boss really is, whilst willingly keeping him happy both in the bedroom and out of it. Neither of them expect their relationship to be anything other than business, until a personal tragedy means that Richard needs Tino more than ever.

For both of them, that first chance meeting is the catalyst for a headlong plunge into sexual adventures, murder and possibly love.

Warnings: one instance of drug use, alcohol use, violence, historical incest query, extreme possessiveness.

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CAN


Giveaway

Lady Jaguar is giving away a $15 Amazon gift card with this tour. Enter via Rafflecopter:

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Excerpt

Going Down meme - Lady Jaguar

THE CEO’S OFFICE was behind a tall oak door with his name emblazoned on a silver plaque. Tino knocked and went in, figuring it was okay as Mason wanted him to follow in the first place.

The room was empty, so Tino went back outside and asked Eleanor what he should do.

“He’s probably in his bathroom,” she said. “Just wait for him in the office. Don’t make him come looking for you.”

Tino hurriedly returned to Mason’s office. The space was huge, with two glass walls giving views up and across Fifth Avenue. His black mahogany desk was also enormous, and mostly empty apart from a telephone, an ink blotter and an Art Deco lamp.

To one side of the office were two large grey leather couches and a smoked glass coffee table in between. The wall behind one of the couches was dominated by a large square artwork consisting of a series of blips and lines, black on white background. At the bottom was the discreet legend, Love Story. It didn’t make any sense to Tino, but he never pretended to be an art buff.

As he waited, perched on the chair opposite Mason’s desk, he tried to remember what he knew about the man usually occupying the large black leather chair.

Not much, apart from everyone knew he had an evil temper. There had also been some talk of an affair with a transgender hooker, and the supercars he had stored in the parking lot underneath the building. Tino had even heard a rumor that he’d killed someone once, with his bare hands.

He ran his finger around his collar, hoping he wouldn’t start to sweat. The man was terrifying, that much he did know. Some said he was a generous and fair boss who wasn’t to be messed with. Others called him Godzilla under their breath and tried to avoid him at all costs.

There was no doubt he polarized opinion in the office. Anyone who had received a tongue-lashing from him bore the scars for life.

Tino’s backside pimpled and he fought the urge to run. Christ, what was he doing here?

He heard the toilet flush, and within a few moments, Mason came out of another door on the opposite side of the office. He still wore his suit trousers but his upper torso was distractingly bare, revealing a broad chest smattered with silky black hair, and a Celtic knotwork band circling one upper arm. On his back, there was a wolf’s face, similar to the Wolfen company’s logo. As Tino continued to check out the CEO’s muscular swimmer’s shoulders and narrow waist, Mason threw his shirt at him, making him jump.

“Get that cleaned, will you?”

The garment smelled of him, and Tino had to resist the urge to bury his face in it. Instead, he watched as Mason covered up that divine chest with a fresh shirt and began fiddling with the cufflinks.

“Help me,” he said impatiently.

Immediately, Tino jumped to his feet and went to assist. The cufflinks were gold, the stones white diamonds. They must have cost the equivalent of half a year’s salary for Tino. He fumbled and dropped the second one.

As he bent down to pick it up, he noticed Mason’s feet were bare. No shoes. No socks, just long, prehensile toes and perfectly pedicured nails with black nail polish. He tried not to stare, concentrating on the task in hand.

When he had finished, Mason went to sit in the black leather executive chair on his side of the desk.

“First off, questions.” He clasped his hands on the desk in front of him.

Tino waited, staring at the snowy cuffs and sparkling diamonds.

Mason waited.

“Sir?” Tino said, when the waiting became painful.

“Don’t you have any?”

Tino realized Mason had been asking him what his questions were.

“Oh, right! Er, yeah. A bit of a shock, coming in this morning and being told to clear my desk. Why do you want me, sir? I thought…”

Mason took a file out of his desk drawer and opened it. “Valentino Santini, born 1988, educated in Brooklyn. Average grades at best. Came to Wolfen as a filing clerk in 2012. Proved to have an aptitude for marketing and a pleasing telephone manner. Worked up through the company to become a junior manager and then…” He slammed the file shut. “Career stalled thanks to one ambitious little prick. I would fire him, but he gets results. So back to you. You’re loyal, discreet, bright and personable. Those are the qualities I need for someone to eventually take over from Eleanor. Also, the ability not to take shit from anyone, most of all me. You think you can do that, Valentino?”

“Yes sir,” Tino replied promptly.

“My question to you is, why would you want to? Work for me, that is??”

Tino opened his mouth and closed it again. “I… wasn’t given the choice, was I?”

Mason gestured impatiently. “Of course you have a choice. You think I want someone who hates the air I breathe? There are plenty of internal positions within the company, not only here but in any one of our offices. The pay won’t be as good but…”

“I want to work for you,” Tino said, cutting him short.

“Why?”

“I like a challenge. Someone says to me, ‘it’s impossible,’ I like to prove to them it isn’t.”

Mason smiled crookedly. “You expect to have me eating out of your hand any time soon?”

Wow. For a moment, Tino couldn’t speak. He was mesmerized by the man in front of him, enviable cheekbones, straight dark hair that spiked over a high forehead, cruel lips that had …

No, don’t think about what we did in the elevator, for fuck’s sake…

He snapped back to the present.

“If I did, it wouldn’t be a challenge, would it? Sir.”

Mason rested back in his seat, long fingers stroking the fat leather chair arms.

“One could argue this is a woman’s role. Being my Man Friday? Being at my beck and call? Listening to me when I’m jacked up on JD and wanting three whores in my apartment within fifteen minutes? Ringing you when you’re at your sick mother’s bedside and screaming at you for forgetting to organize my pastrami bagel? Threatening to fire you every five minutes? Do you really want to work for a blue-chip asshole like me?”

He came around to Tino’s side of the table and perched on the desk in front of him, impaling him with an intent glare. Tino could smell his sandalwood aftershave and something much muskier, beguiling him, screwing with his reason. He tried not to look at the man’s crotch. If he didn’t know any better, he was sporting a healthy-looking semi.

“I think I can handle you,” he muttered.

“Oh, I know you think you can.” Without warning, he took Tino’s chin in a strong grip and forced him to look up. “Don’t make the mistake of falling for me, Valentino. Eleanor probably already told you this. I break balls, rip hearts to shreds and fuck like a demon, but I don’t do love. Respect, yes, if it’s earned, but not love. Never forget that.”

“I have no intention of marrying you, sir,” Tino replied, deadpan. Inside his chest, his heart was beating so loud, he was surprised Mason couldn’t hear it.

Mason let go of his face, grinning savagely. “And that, Valentino, is why I want you. I think we understand each other.”


Author Bio

Lady Jaguar’s first den was in the depths of Archive Of Our Own and Wattpad, where she still writes fan fiction for Holby City, Good Omens and Doctor Who (Eight.)

Now she has ventured out with a story her readers asked her to write and is just about to place it at your feet like a dead rodent. Expect filth, high-octane frolics and every beloved romance trope known to mankind!

Lady Jaguar is on Instagram (when they haven’t banned her,) Twitter, and down with the kids at Tumblr.

Author Website: https://www.jaynelockwood.com

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

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

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/19878228.Lady_Jaguar

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/?s=lady+Jaguar&search_type=book_search

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PROMO: Of Magic And Scales

Promo

Of Magic and Scales - Natalina ReisNatalina Reis has a new MM Paranormal murder mystery romance out: “Of Magic and Scales.”

With a serial killer on the loose, the baffling mystery of Aiden’s past, and their tenuous budding romance, Aiden and Fouchard tread through a world of magic and myth on padded shoes, terrified to stir up something neither can control or defeat.

Aiden Mercer’s life now centers around lounging on the sunny beaches of his adopted country with a beer in one hand and a coffee in the other while admiring the local male population. After a rough life as a respected detective in DC, playing it cool shouldn’t be too hard, right? With the magical community on his case and dead bodies piling up around town, the responsibility of finding their killer seems fated to fall on him and deny him of his easy living.

Then there is Naël.

Cantankerous merman Naël Fouchard’s life is focused on bringing up and protecting his little sister. When DNA found at the scene of the murders mark him as the prime suspect, Naël seeks out the help of Aiden, whose reputation as a detective grossly belies his lazy lifestyle and apparent lack of ambition.

The chemistry between the strong, stoic Naël and the easygoing Aiden is undeniable, no matter how many walls Aiden builds.

If this unlikely pair can’t come to terms with their feelings for each other long enough to catch the killer, their emotional turmoil might yet allow the murderer to kill them instead.

Hot Tree Publishing | Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CAN | Amazon AUS | iBooks | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | QueeRomance Ink | Goodreads


Giveaway

Natalina is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card with this tour. Enter via Rafflecopter for a chance to win:

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Excerpt

Of Magic and Scales - Natalina ReisI’m not sure what I am, but I certainly know what I am not. I know I’m not a witch because—well, I’m male. I’m definitely not an elf, since I have no sudden urges to hop onto somebody’s shelf around Christmas. Vampire I am not. My perfectly straight teeth have never once turned into fangs, neither have I ever had a sudden, strange craving for human blood. I’m not a werewolf either. I do have hair on my body but nothing that would qualify me as a wolfman. Besides, I am still pretty much myself during full moons.

But I am not a regular either, because unlike most normal humans, I can see magic beings. By “seeing,” I mean I recognize them as such. Anyone can see them, unless the magicals choose for them not to. I, on the other hand, can always recognize them, unless they purposely hide themselves behind a special magic charm.

I don’t remember not having the ability, so I’m guessing I was born like this. Whatever this is. Good thing that I’m used to it, because seeing magical beings for what they are can be a pretty traumatizing experience, as it was the time I freaked out during a trip to Greece, when I had a close encounter with a minotaur. Nice chap as it turns out but not a pretty sight.

I’ve lived a pretty normal, average life running Bicas R Us, a coffee shop in a small coastal town in sunny Portugal, for the past year or so. After an incident in Northern Virginia that put me on the pages of the local news—don’t ask; it involved a pretty handsome elf and his irate troll boyfriend—I thought it would be better to start again somewhere new. I had visited the tiny nation some years before and fallen in love with its never-ending beaches and kicked-back lifestyle, so I packed my bags, contacted a real estate agent and the immigration office, and got myself a brand-new life.

I had played with the idea of buying a coffee shop on the beach, but I figured it would be a mother to keep the place—and the coffee—free of sand. So, I bought a store nearby in the town square, a short walk from the beach. Portugal is littered with three things: tourists, ancient churches, and coffee shops. Nobody would notice me, the brown haired, blue-eyed American who came to explore the locals’ passion for the hot brew.

The other perk of living here was that magical creatures were not spotted as often. Vampires were virtually nonexistent because of the year-round sunny weather, trolls and ogres were limited to the mountains in the north and, unless you visited the nearby mountain of Sintra that crawled with magical activity, the only thread of magic on the coast was the sporadic water sprite and the beachcombing witches who sold their wares in local shops. All in all, a pretty placid place for someone like me to live in.

I enjoyed today’s cool breeze blowing from the ocean, sitting on a chair in my small esplanade under a red umbrella with a glass of cold beer in my hand. Yes, in this sunny paradise I was allowed to sell and buy alcohol in my coffee shop. Behind my light pinewood counter, the wall shelves were covered in bottles that held more than coffee flavorings. What a great nation this was.

While Cristina, my only employee, was busy serving the few customers who loitered inside the café, I could enjoy the local fauna as they hurried from shop to shop or headed out to the beach. Summer hadn’t quite arrived yet, but the sun had warmed the air enough for the locals to shed their wintry clothes and don more relaxed apparel. From behind my shades, I followed the trek of three young men, all shirtless and in swimming trunks. Hot. Not the weather, the guys—tanned, lean and muscular, shorts low enough on their hips to reveal that sexy vee—

“Olha para ti, a salivar como um cão por um bife.” Cristina had sneaked up from behind and interrupted my yummy thoughts.

“Speak English, woman,” I told her, sliding my glasses down my nose to look at her over the rim. “You’d think you’re Portuguese, or something.”

She slapped me mercilessly across the back of my head and plopped herself on the chair next to mine. “Idiota.”Without so much as a may I, my small Portuguese friend and employee grabbed the glass from my hand and took a long swig of my beer. “Are you going to sit here all afternoon watching the hot guys walking by?”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Cristina spoke flawless English but enjoyed confusing me with spurts of Portuguese once in a while. She pulled up another chair and placed her feet on the seat, her legs crossed at the knees. “What exactly did you call me just now?”

“A dog salivating over a steak.” She took another swig before I could retrieve my beer. “Don’t you have more important things to do with your life, Aiden?”

I wiped her foam mustache with a finger. “Not really. Why do you think I moved here from Virginia?” She blinked her eyes at me, pretending not to know what I was talking about. “Easy living, sunshine, and hot, half-naked guys.”

Cristina laughed, her face turned to the sun. She had skin the same color as the cork in a wine bottle, a honeyed brown made darker since the early spring weather replaced the cool air of winter. “You’re something, Aiden. You have no other dream or ambition? Just basking in the sun and ogling sexy men?”

Not quite correct but part of the truth. “Are you jealous?”

The skin crinkled around her green eyes as she turned her gaze to me. “Only if you flirt with guys I have my eyes on.” She spotted a couple of newly arrived customers and hopped to her feet. “Customers. Unlike you, I have some interest in making a buck here and there. I enjoy having a roof over my head.”

As she walked away, I yelled, “No need. You can always sleep on the beach.”


Author Bio

Natalina ReisNatalina wrote her first romance at the age of 13 in collaboration with her best friend. Since then she has ventured into other genres, but romance is first and foremost in almost everything she writes. She’s the author of We Will Always Have the Closet, Desert Jewel, Loved You Always, and Lavender Fields.

After earning a degree in tourism and foreign languages, she worked as a tourist guide in her native Portugal for a short time before moving to the United States. She lived in three continents and a few islands, and her knack for languages and linguistics led her to a master’s degree in education. She lives in Virginia where she’s taught English as a Second Language to elementary school children for more years than she cares to admit.

Natalina doesn’t believe you can have too many books or too much coffee. Art and dance make her happy and she is pretty sure she could survive on lobster and bananas alone. When she is not writing or stressing over lesson plans, she shares her life with her husband and two adult sons.

Author Website: https://natalinareis.com/

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

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

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

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

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14883335.Natalina_Reis

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/natalina-reis/

Author Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Natalina-Reis/e/B01ADQ9FJW/

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PROMO: Ice Gladiators

Promo

Ice Gladiators - Genevive ChambleeGenevive Chamblee has a new MM sports romance book out: “Ice Gladiator.”

Dalek “Taz” Tazandlakova is the epitome of a hockey player—tall, broad, and powerful. As a forward for the Lafayette Ice Water Moccasins, he’s also the physical embodiment of domination and intimidation.

He’s everything Liam Jolivet isn’t.

Liam possesses an inner strength and confidence Taz has never mastered. On the surface, Liam appears to be a perfect match for Taz. The problem is, Liam is dating Taz’s roommate. It’s not the only problem, either. Taz is a “playa” and has commitment issues—along with a pain-in-the-ass coach who’s threatening to ruin his career, and a second roommate who wants to dictate his social life for his own personal gain.

Nevertheless, Taz wants Liam, and Liam appears to want to reciprocate. Do they dare cross the line?

Hot Tree Publishing | Amazon US | Amazon CAN | Amazon UK | iBooks | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | QueeRomance Ink | Goodreads 


Giveaway

Genevive is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card with this tour. Enter via Rafflecopter:

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Excerpt

Ice Gladiators(Contains explicit language)“Actually, you’re more likely to get jabbed in the ribs or guts than beat over the head. That’s too obvious a penalty.” Taz reclined on the sofa. “The entire point of sticking is to move someone out of your way or send a message without getting caught. Hockey’s physical and intense, but it isn’t vicious. We respect each other, even if we don’t always like each other. We hit hard, but it’s without malice. At the end of the day, it’s our job. Besides, I thought this kind of thing turned you on. At least, that’s what Jackson said.”

“I said what?”

“You said he liked hockey. Obviously, he doesn’t.”

Spencer’s brows furrowed. “I’m right here. You can talk to me.”

“I said no such thing,” Jackson, Taz’s other roommate, rebutted, picking through the mixed nuts.

Victor set the bowl on a table. “And that’s my cue to leave.”

“What did I miss?” Liam Jolivet questioned, carrying three beers and two soft drinks.

“Nothing,” Victor answered. “Hand them their drinks. You and I are watching the rest of the game in my bedroom.”

Pfft.” Jackson snorted. “You’re leaving to fuck.”

At least someone’s getting lucky tonight, Taz thought. And with a hottie like Liam, why not?

Victor frowned. “And what’s it to you?”

Taz shook his head. “Wow, Jack, that was tacky, even for you.”

“Calling them like I see them.”

“You must have cataracts in both eyes, then,” Taz huffed.

“What did you mean by sticking sending a message?” Liam asked, distributing the drinks.

“Not that kind of sticking,” Jackson interjected before Taz replied. “But if you have to ask, Vic must not be handling business.”

“Fuck you, Jack,” Victor barked.

Jackson smirked. “That’s what I meant.”

“Shut up and drag your mind out of the sewer. Come on, Liam.”

“Okay, just a minute. I want to hear Taz’s answer.”

“Suit yourself,” Victor snapped, storming down the hallway and slamming a bedroom door.

Twisting the cap off his beer, Taz stared after Victor for a moment before turning his attention to Liam. “You’d better go.”

“I will, but I’m interested in what you were saying.” Liam plopped on the couch, his soulful brown eyes genuinely intrigued. He bore a meet-your-parents smile with a hint of danger that stirred Taz’s curiosity. “I know you probably get sick of all my questions every time I come over, but search engines only tell so much—computer-compiled facts. You give not only the human aspect but spill an inside scoop. It’s not like Victor ever tells me this stuff.”

“It’s an intimidation tactic,” Taz answered. “If guys know you hit, they don’t hit you or your teammates.”

Spencer clicked his tongue. “As I said: barbaric.”

Taz waved his hand. “It’s part of the game—not a nice part, but there it is. And it’s a lot tamer these days with league regulations than several years ago. Back in the day—”

“Liam!” Victor yelled from the bedroom.

“You’re being summoned, fuck boy.” Jackson laughed.

A flush swarmed up Liam’s throat to his face as he rose and trekked to the bedroom.

“He’s too easy.” Jackson chuckled.

Taz rolled his head across the back of the couch to face his roommate. “Why do you do that?”

Jackson shrugged and took a swig of beer.


Exclusive Content!


Author: Genevive Chamblee
Book Title: Ice Gladiators
Type: Author Interview/Writing
Subject: Places I Find Interesting

There is so many places that I find interesting and ways to answer that question. Literally, I could discuss this for hours. Let me begin by saying I love traveling. Due to scheduling and obligations, I do not have the opportunity to do much of it. However, if you follow me on my blog, most of you know that I commute cities regularly. I don’t consider that travelling.

Years ago, I traveled frequently, and I really enjoyed it. I had the opportunity to see awesome sites and meet terrific people. However, much has changed since then. I have plans to return to being able to travel more in the future. My bucket list items include to visit the stadiums of every SEC football team. Hey, what can I say? I’m a football type of girl.

This next may seem creepy, but it is what it is. I find cemeteries to be interesting. Each tombstone is a marker of someone who once walked this earth, and a way for them not to be forgotten. Now, I admit when I was younger, I was terrified of cemeteries. And to be completely transparent, you won’t find me skulking around them alone (or with anyone else) at night. Yet, there is a beauty to a place dedicated to appreciate life. I like to stroll among the graves and note the names, dates, and epitaphs. It keeps me in contact with my humanity—that no day is ever granted and to appreciate the living. Sometimes, if a grave appears neglected, I’ll pull the weeds or leave a flower. Mind you, if the grave looks too far gone with overgrowth, I’m not going near it. This here is the bayous, and slithery, creepy crawlies conceal themselves in brush. And that is also why I don’t pick strawberries. Nope, not happening.

Side note. Several years ago, I had someone who tried to convince me the majority of snake bites are warranted because the person did something wrong. The something wrong, according to this person, is getting to close. Well, yeah! If I don’t see the dang thing, how am I supposed to know I’m close to it? This person continued and said that if a snake hears (feels the vibration or catches the scent of a person) it leaves an area. Okay, believe that if you want to. We’re going to have to agree to disagree because I happen to know how aggressive cottonmouths are, and they will chase a person. I’m not open to discussion about this. Been there; done that. End of story. I don’t do slithery. As a result, I don’t really do nature. I love animals, and never want to see any mistreated. I respect their space, and hope they respect mine. If one is injured, I’ll try to help, of course. And in a control setting, I do not mind petting. But I’m not about to trying to be bore whisper or a Parselmouth.

I’m a history buff. Any time I have the opportunity to visit a museum, I’m taking it. Wax museums are some of my favorites.; although, they tend to be too chilly for me. I especially like museums that have little known artifacts or displays how objects work. My head is a vault of trivia. (Guess what one of my favorite games to play is.) My friends would also say I’d be their call person if they were ever on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. (I couldn’t be on Jeopardy because I stink at geography, and it always is stacked with geographical questions.) In general, if it is unusual, it’s something that I’m going to want to learn more.

On a similar note, I find how the mind works intriguing. I’m trained in psychology and behavioral science. For that reason, I’m good at noticing patterns. Solving puzzles or riddles is a fascination. Thus, it’s very rewarding to unravel someone’s thinking patter so that they can receive proper psychiatric help. I’ve worked in mental health for many years in different environments. My primary duties have been diagnostics and evaluations and not so much as counseling. In the field, I’ve seen more than a fair share of oddities and strangeness. My coworkers accuse me of always having a story for whatever topic they’re discussing.

From a more global perspective, Rome definitely piques my interest. It is an abundance of history—from architecture to music to people to art to language. It has everything. A grand tour of the country ranks in the top ten on my bucket list. (Number one on my bucket list is a Disney Cruise.)

Several years ago, I watched a program that highlighted different tourist locations. One place discussed was a prospect place. Tourist paid a fee and could mind for gold and other gems. Anything they found was there’s to keep. I suspect it has had so many tourists that there is not much left to be found. However, it would be fun trying. I’ve never been in a crystal/gem mine, and diamonds are a girl’s best friend.

Those are just a few of the places. For more of my interests, likes, dislikes, how I write, my stories, and my shenanigans, giveaways, and more, check out my blog, Creole Bayou, http://www.genevivechambleeconnect.wordpress.com. New posts are made on Wednesdays, and everything is raw and unscathed. Climb on in a pirogue and join me on the bayou. If you have any questions or suggestions about this post or any others, feel free to comment below or tweet me at @dolynesaidso. You also can follow me on Instagram at genevivechambleeauthor or search me on Goodreads or Amazon Authors.
And also, don’t forget to check out my new steamy, sports romance, Ice Gladiators, guaranteed to melt the ice. It’s the third book in my Locker Room Love series.
Missed the two books in my sports romance series? No frets. Out of the Penalty Box, where it’s one minute in the box or a lifetime, out is available at http://amzn.to/2Bhnngw. It also can be ordered on iTunes, Nook, or Kobo. Visit http://www.books2read.com/penalty. Defending the Net can be ordered at http://www.books2read.com/defending. Crossing the line could cost the game.
Until next time, happy reading and much romance.


Author Bio

Genevive Chamblee - Ice GladiatorsGenevive Chamblee is a southern darling and resides in the bayou country where sweet tea and SEC football reign supreme. She is known for being witty (or so she thinks), getting lost anywhere beyond her front yard (the back is pushing it as she’s very geographically challenged), falling in love with shelter animals (and she adopts them), asking off-the-beaten-path questions that makes one go “hmm,” and preparing homecooked Creole meals that are as spicy as her writing.

Genevive specializes in spinning steamy, romantic tales with humorous flair, diverse characters, and quirky views of love and human behavior. She also is not afraid to delve into darker romances as well.

Author Website: http://www.genevivechambleeconnect.wordpress.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/authorgenevive.chamblee.7

Author Facebook (Author Page): http://www.facebook.com/genevivechambleeconnect

Author Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/dolynesaidso

Author Instagram: http://www.instagram.com/genevivechambleeauthor

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16429845.Genevive_Chamblee

Author Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/genevivechamblee

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PROMO: Students of Barrenmoor Ridge

Promo

The Students of Barrenmoor RidgeJackson Marsh has a new MM YA romance out, book two in his Barrenmoor Ridge series: “The Students of Barrenmoor Ridge.”

Book two in ‘The Barrenmoor Series’ of MM romance stories with a mountain rescue theme.

Liam has set himself a goal. To come out to his best friend, Casper, before his 18th birthday while hiking at Fellborough in the Yorkshire Dales.

Things don’t go according to plan, and when a violent storm hits, the camping trip takes a potentially fatal turn. Local mountaineers, John Hamilton and his husband Gary are called to help, but it soon becomes apparent that the rescue is more than physical. Liam and Casper both have secrets that when known, have the potential break or mend their hearts.

A mix of YA, romance and adventure, ‘The Students of Barrenmoor Ridge’ brings back popular characters from the first Barrenmoor book in a familiar setting with love, mountaineering and the dangers of both.

‘The Mentor of Barrenmoor Ridge’ is the first book in the Barrenmoor Series of MM romances with a mountain rescue theme. ‘The Students’ takes place two years later, and it is better, but not vital, to read the stories in order.

From the series reviews:

“No usual tried tropes here. Great story, natural dialogue, well-developed characters, and unpredictable plot.”

“I loved reading the entire “mentor” series. Such great escapism. I Love the Pacing of the story, the twist and turns, the suspense, conflict, romance. The whole series is wonderful to read.”

Amazon Print | Amazon US | Amazon CAN | Amazon UK | Amazon AUS | Amazon GER | Amazon FRN | Amazon SPN | Amazon ITA | Amazon NL | Amazon JAP | Amazon BZL | Amazon MX | Amazon IND


Giveaway

Jackson is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour. Fir a chance to win, enter via Rafflecopter:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47107/?


Excerpt

The Students of Barrenmoor RidgeJohn was unable to sleep that night. The raging wind didn’t bother him even though the roof tiles rattled, and he knew the old yew tree would be creaking as it bent towards the lean-to. He was used to it and so was the cottage. It was well built.

Gary was curled up behind him, spooned in with one arm across John’s chest. The bedroom was warm, Gary’s presence warmer, and the pillows were soft. There was no reason sleep shouldn’t come, they were safe from the battering, cocooned in the perfect shelter of each other’s arms, and yet…

The scream of the wind as it charged them from the summit of Lhotse, the vibrations of the ground when an avalanche fell, the hiss of snow stinging the tent, and the mountain’s roar, all sounds he heard through the inconsequential force six doing its best to rattle the house. The bitter bite of memory gnawed at his mind for sure, but the main reason his thoughts leapt from the anesthetising approach of sleep to the worst conditions in the world had nothing to do with the past.

There were people out there now, at Everest, yes, but also on the fells. The team were over at Northpeak and they’d picked a fine night for training, but closer to home, there were hikers and climbers huddled beneath inadequate canvas hoping their pegging was sound and wishing the night would end. Daylight might bring security, but it didn’t guarantee good weather, and it was still hours away. A lot could happen. The storm had worsened to a frightening zenith before the thunder abated slightly, but still he couldn’t sleep. The lessening conditions meant the eye of the storm was overhead, and there would be more, possibly worse, to follow.

He pictured the fell from above, seeing through the agitated clouds to the swamped ground a mile below. Lit by lightning bursts, he imagined it as waves frozen in mid-roll with Fellborough peak a crest and the lower terrain its ripples. Peppered around it were insignificant dots of inappropriate colour, the shop-bought, budget tents of the unwary trembling against the elements.

He had pictured the scene on many nights as he lay listening to the conditions and wating for the MRT radio to spark into life, or for his pager to double-beep the call sign, but tonight he was seeing it more clearly, as if it was unfolding on a widescreen television in high definition. Unaffected by the storm, he floated above it, watching over its potential victims, safe at his altitude and apart. The         unhinged tempest beneath blasted from one insane thought to another, swiping at anything in its path, but John was safe, hovering on a warm updraft that dulled him towards the soft paws of sleep.

Until he fell.

Security gone. No handholds, no rope, only the empty space between him and the life-taking certainty of rock.

Gasping, he opened his eyes as his body jerked. The clock glowed one-forty-seven, and Gary had rolled away leaving him exposed and vulnerable. The pager was silent, and John was safe in his bed, but a few miles away, people might be battling for their lives, and all he could do was wait.

 

The rain no longer stung when it swiped Liam’s face, his flesh was too numb to register the pain. The torch beam was nothing more than a thread through barely penetrable blackness, but it showed him the ground a few steps at a time.

That was all he needed to do, take it slowly using common sense and exercising caution. The tent had been facing west, and he found the way down from the ledge between two large boulders with no trouble. Straight on to the south, he met the path. Over to his left, the lightning was now on the horizon, and the wind was swooping down from the fell on his right. If the storm didn’t change direction, it would keep him on course, and the path, now more like a stream, was marked here and there by cairns. With the wind to one side and the dying lightning to the other, he only needed to keep going downhill until he met the riverbed. If it was flooded, he’d wade straight through to if he had to.

It was his fault that Casper was in trouble. Whatever had made him go out unprotected in the storm, and whatever had happened next didn’t matter. There was nothing that could be done to change that, all that mattered now was finding someone who could save him. Repercussions of a bad decision would come, and Liam would deserve them – unprepared, inexperienced, thinking he knew what he was doing… Why hadn’t he just taken Casper down to the beach at home to tell him? Why drag him halfway up the country and make him climb a hill to ruin their friendship? He could have done that weeks ago had he not been such a ridiculous romantic. There was nothing romantic about destroying their friendship and leaving his best friend shivering to death on…

He yelled at himself to stop. Beating himself up wouldn’t do any good. He had to concentrate on his footing, and pretend he knew what he was doing. Casper needed him to be strong, to be wise, to take only a course of action that would lead to rescue, everything else had to wait.

Not knowing how far he had descended, he stopped and took out his phone. Sheltering it as best he could against his chest, he switched it on only to find no signal and the battery bar now glowing red. The phone back in his pocket, the torch aimed at the path, his head down, he continued.

The rain was easing off, that was a blessing, but the gale roared in his ears, low and booming one moment, high-pitched the next. As uncoordinated as his frozen feet, as wild as the anger he turned in on himself, it would not leave him alone. It taunted and jabbed as it bullied, and in the cacophony, he imagined laughter, spiteful and insulting, but deserved.

Another sound grew closer on a rumbling vibration beneath his feet, and a few paces further, he came to the edge of the riverbed.

Except now there was no bed, only river as thousands of gallons of water teamed from the blackness on his right to vanish back into the night on his left. The torch lit foam spewing around rocks in untamed channels that bubbled wildly and fast across his path. There was no way to judge the depth, and no way of knowing if the rocks that stood above the surface were stable, but equally, there was no time to think about it. Squinting through dripping eyelashes and aiming his light, it was impossible to see how wide it was either, but he knew for certain that there was no way to go up and around. Downhill, it could flow east for miles and take him off his path. The only way was through, and he knew he might not survive.


Author Bio

Jackson MarshJackson Marsh is a British born author of novels and screenplays.

Jackson has a background of theatre, cabaret and music and yet holds a social policy degree. He was born on the Romney Marshes in Kent, UK, but now lives on a mountainous Greek island. During the 1980s in London he campaigned for gay rights and performed political satire cabaret, writing song and reviews, appearing at Pride events, national venues and on television.

He moved to Greece in 2002 and married his partner there in 2017. He has won awards for his gay erotic writing, and in 2007, won a European-wide award for short stories. In 2017, he won awards for his screenplay writing.

Jackson is the author of ‘The Clearwater Mysteries’, and also writes fiction under the name James Collins.

Author Website: www.jacksonmarsh.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100002130420544

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

Author Twitter: https://twitter.com/CollinsWords26

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17332953.Jackson_Marsh

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/jackson-marsh/

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Jackson-Marsh/e/B077LDT5ZL/

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PROMO: Back Issues Cover Reveal

Promo

Back Issues, by Dani Hermit & Nevi StarDani Hermit & Nevi Star have a new dark MM sci fi-paranormal romance out, book one of Burn Outs: “Back Issues.”

From the Best-selling Authors of the Parliament of Twilight series comes a new erotic world of Heroes and Villains!

53 year old Matt Evans never thought he would be drawn back into the world of the Chosen and their staged battles of Good versus Evil. But with the return of his long dormant super powers on the heels of a devastating attack on the Chosen, Matt is forced to come face to face with the lover he left behind.

When Professor Colton Stephens sees Matt again, all of the pain of their past is brought to the surface. Thirty years of secrets and heartbreak must be overcome so that they can work together against the plotting of a Hero who turned into a terrorist.

When that terrorist uses Colton’s powers and proclivities against him, will his bond with Matt be strong enough to keep him out of the grip of Evil, or will Colton fall into the clutches of the first truly evil being in the known history of the Chosen?

Publisher | Amazon | iBooks | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Google Play | QueeRomance Ink | Smashwords 


Excerpt

Back Issues, by Dani Hermit & Nevi Star“The reason that we have to put the current events in perspective, other than to avoid mass panic, is clear.”

The gray and white streaked hair of the lecturing professor bounced with a youth he no longer possessed as he paced the college coliseum’s floor. Four hundred students made up his Relevant History class and at least half, if not more, were there not for his knowledge but because of his own history. Still they were here. Now more than ever, in this new world without Heroes, they needed to have a new understanding of ethics.

“If you consider the Phoenicians…”

A hand went up. “Mythos? I mean, Professor Stephens.”

Twenty seven years after his last battle, after he’d burned out his power and said a sad farewell to the name and life he loved, somehow he still had fan-boys. Still, he was good-natured about it. Colton “Mythos” Stephens wasn’t a Hero anymore but he knew he was still an example for the next generation. He’d be eighty and they still would be cheering for him. He attempted to placate his admirer.

“First, we learn. Then maybe in the last ten minutes of class we can-”

“Tell us about the battle where you defeated The Hammer and ended his reign of terror.” The student begged with excitement.

Of course. They always wanted to hear about the very last thing he wanted to talk about. The former Hero did his best not to think about the Hammer. Privately, the Hammer had been his closest friend but publicly, they were bitter rivals. Most importantly, he was the man who Colton had found a peace with within the chaos of learning the demands of the powers the Disk had bestowed on him. Though the memory that came back the most often of Matt “The Hammer” Evans was the day he walked out of Colton’s life, disappearing into anonymity as if they had meant nothing to each other.

“The class is called Relevant History. Please keep your questions about the unit we are currently-” Colton forgot what he was going to say as his eyes fell on the last man he ever thought he’d see again.

Standing in the back of the lecture hall, barely more than a profile with the light behind him, looking for all the world like a specter summoned from the depths of Colton’s psyche, was Matt. Even after twenty-nine years, seven months, and two days, Colton would know him anywhere.

“Class dismissed,” was all he could think to say as he bolted from the lecture stage, not sure whether he wanted to run to Matt or find some dark hole to hide out in.

Colton made it about ten feet out the side door before he heard Matt’s voice behind him. “Still got some run in you, dontcha Pony?” Matt used the nickname he’d given to the much smaller boy Colton had been back in their early days as rivals. “Did I scare you?”

“How dare you?” Colton stood rigid, trying not to shiver at the sound of Matt’s voice and to keep his resolve to send him away. “Don’t say another word, you… You don’t get to call me that anymore. And you not only don’t sca-scare me, you have no effect on me at all.” He kept his eyes front as if staring holes in the far wall would somehow make the storm inside his heart calm.

“Great, that’ll make things easier,” Matt’s sarcasm was an almost physical assault on the back of Colton’s head. “I don’t have time to rehash the past right now, Pony. Is there somewhere private we can go?”

Colton spun around and instantly regretted it. Now it was real. He quickly looked anywhere but Matt’s piercing eyes. “Nothing about this is going to be easy.” He was about to start another kind of lecture.

Then he saw it. Beyond the fire he knew so well, there was fear in Matt’s eyes and damn himself, Colton was going to care. “Fine. I’ll give you ten minutes. We can go to my office. It’s really private. They put it under the library for me.”

Matt nodded and waited for Colton to lead the way. When they just stood there, looking at each other, he spoke up. “Yeah, I’m getting old.” He self-consciously ran a hand through his dark blond hair, longer now then he used to wear it, and streaked with silvery lines. “Happens to the best of us. Can we get out of the hallway before one of your fan boys recognize me?” Matt inclined his head towards the group of students who were gathering at the end of the hall, curious about the man their famous professor was talking to.

“Down the hall. Take a left. Then a right. Take the door outside. Go in the library, the one with the big gilded doors and walk into the third study room. It will look locked but go in. I’ll be there after I double back around. Try not to get bored without me.”

Colton had tilted his head up and taken a couple steps forward so he could whisper in Matt’s ear. His voice was breaking as he fought back a sultry tone, one he reserved for much more delicious words than directions to his office. Whatever Matt needed to say, he needed to say it quickly. And then Colton needed to get Matt as far away as possible because Colton finished his words with the first syllable of the intimate nickname he used to use for Matt and almost choked on it.

Colton pulled several feet back, pretending to be considering the snack machine. Maybe Matt hadn’t noticed. “Go. Now.”


Author Bio

The writing duo behind the Parliament of Twilight books (and several briefly notorious YuGiOh fanfics), Dani Hermit and Nevi Star have been romantically involved for over 20 years, though they have been telling stories together for even longer. A mutual love of slash fan-fiction and high fantasy novels lead to a love for each other that hasn’t faded through the years. Together they created the various incarnations of the characters who would one day emerge as the cast for the Parliament of Twilight.

Dani also does cover design both for the Hermit & Star books as well as a side-hustle to pay for coffee. She’s also been known to crochet odd little creatures, read Tarot, and play a wicked good game of Cards Against Humanity.

Art school survivor Nevi does half of the cover design work for their novels, as well as kawaii anime style art of her own, when not drowning in an ocean of baking shows and home shopping binges.

When not fully emerged in the imaginary worlds they’ve created, Dani and Nevi spend their time absorbing books, anime, and reality TV. They live in a lovely little community in suburban Indiana with their pirate crew and a few cats.

Authors’ Website: https://hermitstarbooks.wordpress.com/

Authors’ Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/hermitstarbooks

Authors’ Twitter: https://twitter.com/hermitstarbooks

Authors’ Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/hermitstarbooks/

Authors’ QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/dani-hermit/

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My Houses

ESO Housing

ESO houses, that is. I still don’t have even a single house out here in the real world. At least I can pretend in the game…

I have a ton of ESO houses. Got ’em over the last year with a combination of crowns (aka real money) and in-game gold. There was one day I remember quite gleefully, when I had a huge quantity of gold for some reason, and I ran around buying at least half a dozen houses… 🙂 That was fun! But now I’m trying to furnish them all, so I’m totally broke in game, just like real life.

List of my current houses, in alphabetical order. Pics are taken from the entrance, except for one. I’m afraid there are an awful lot of images with my bear’s butt in them. He kept jumping in front of the camera.

Alinor Crest Townhouse 20200105141327_1

20200105141427_1 Autumn’s Gate

Barbed Hook Private Room 20200105141628_1 (from the windows, not the door)

20200105141719_1 Captain Margaux’s Place

Daggerfall Overlook 20200105141820_1 (And yes, the storage area is, in fact, full of trees sticking through the roof. I dropped them there to await planting.)

20200105141922_1 Enchanted Snow Globe Home

Flaming Nix Deluxe Garret 20200105142012_1

20200105142118_1 Golden Gryphon Garret

Grand Psijic Villa 20200105142335_1

20200105142453_1 Hall of the Lunar Champion

Hammerdeath Bungalow 20200105142548_1

20200105142939_1 Linchal Grand Manor

Lucky Cat Landing 20200105143526_1

20200105143652_1 Mara’s Kiss Public House

Moonmirth House 20200106101230_1

20200106101403_1 Potentate’s Retreat

Saint Delyn Penthouse 20200105144105_1

20200105143755_1 Sisters of the Sands Apartment

Sugar Bowl Suite 20200105143907_1

20200105144002_1 The Ebony Flask Inn Room

The Rosy Lion 20200105144247_1

20200105144445_1 Twin Arches

That last one was the first house I bought. My original intention was to only use the free inn room, which was the Golden Gryphon Garret for me, because I started playiong in Summerset. I bought the place furnished, because I figured I wouldn’t have much interest in ESO housing. It’s not like Skyrim, after all. You can’t do half as much.

But… it didn’t work out like that. I eventually wanted the Grand Psijic Villa so bad I broke down and bought it, then the Hall of the Lunar Champion came free with Elsweyr, and now look what happened. Houses, houses, everywhere houses!