COVER REVEAL: Bed of Roses and Thorns

Promo

Bed of Rose and Thorns - Lee Hunt

Lee Hunt has a new dark fantasy/fairy tale out: Bed of Rose and Thorns, and we have the cover reveal! There’s a giveaway too.

Sir Ezra is an Elysian Bell; he has a frightening potential that he keeps hidden deep beneath tight layers of steel armor. He secretly loves a dark Queen whose touch would mean his death.

Banished for brutally slaughtering the Prince of Erle and husband to the Queen, Sir Ezra can only dream of seeing her again. Every night, his soul travels to distant lands, remembering the Queen, her deep convictions, brilliant mind, unending work, hidden loneliness, and a single night of horrific bloodshed.

Recalled to the Queendom after eleven years, Ezra hopes to catch at least a fleeting glimpse of the woman he was sacrificed for. Instead, he finds a nation in rebellion and the Queen to be an elusive phantom. His only friend, Sir Marigold, challenges his presence and tells him that he is not needed in the capitol. Looking for both the truth and the absent Queen, Ezra finds only more secrets and enemies.

Ezra’s armor is dented, scarred, and ruined by friend and enemy alike; his secret potential is about to become unbound.

Amazon | Universal Buy Link


Giveaway

Lee is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour:

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Excerpt

Bed of Rose and Thorns meme

A man alone, thirsty, falls asleep.

***

“Where am I?” asks the man. He seems to be bobbing high in clear aquamarine water. All he can see is a vast expanse of ocean and a clear crystalline structure that floats nearby. Something seems familiar. He had been in a desert, travelling with friends, but now he swims upon an endless ocean.

“Have I been here before?” he asks. The tug of oceanic currents and the endless blue horizon pull on some memory . . . something important.

“You are in the sea of Eydos,” says the crystalline structure. It has been floating toward him, quietly, its approach, until then, unnoticed.

“And you are an iceberg,” the man says, smiling, unconcerned, unsurprised by the nearness of the mountainous structure. He does not know what Eydos is, but he thinks he may recognize this vast icy creature. Something tells him that he may have seen her before, though his memory is as difficult to make out as a words written on water.

The iceberg shakes from side to side, creating little ripples and dancing waves. “I suppose that I am.”

“Your sides are so smooth,” says the man. “I like you.”

The iceberg shakes again and glides right up beside the man. He floats high enough in the water that her ripples of laughter do not threaten to drown him. “You are brave, aren’t you?”

“I am not afraid to look upon that which I like. And say so.”

“Look down then, man, and tell me what you see.”

The man dives down a few body lengths, searching. When he resurfaces, he is smiling even more widely than before. “You go down and down, out of sight, beyond light and reckoning.” He shakes his head at her. “Most of you is down below, unknowable. How vast are you?”

“Never ask a lady her size,” the iceberg says, creating even bigger waves as she shakes the waters, laughing. “My size is my depth, and my depth is my size.”

“Well, I like it. I am just a man. Not vast or mysterious like an iceberg.”

“An amusing man, I think,” replies the berg.

The man asks, “Where are you going?”

“On currents that are my own, on purposes that are my own, for reasons that are my own.”

“I don’t know what I am doing here or where I am going,” says the man.

“Typical,” replies the iceberg lightly. “Most do not.”

The man, swimming hard beside her, says, “You are certainly moving fast through this ocean.”

“Indeed,” says the iceberg. “I am an agent of my own destiny.” After a moment, she adds, “If you come around back and swim in my eddy, you will be pulled along. You can rest while we talk.”

The man looks at the smooth surface of the iceberg. “Can I not just slide up onto you and rest there?”

“No!” says the iceberg, firm. “I am hard and cold. I would burn you. If you touch me, you will be undone.” Her voice softens as she adds, “It is nice in my eddy. Swim there, man.”

He shrugs and does as she says.

“Oh, this is nice,” says the man. “I can look at you and talk at the same time.”

“Glad to help you do two things at once,” giggles the iceberg, making tears of water jiggle and parade.

And they talk on through the day, the man endlessly curious about the magnificent creature of the waters.

***

“I love you, iceberg,” declares the man.

“That’s nice, but you don’t even know a tenth of me.”

“Good point,” laughs the man. “I need to dive deeper.” He takes a deep breath and dives into the dark again.

Missing completely the iceberg’s cry of “No!”

The water starts at a clear color, or is it green? Then it turns light blue, and then to deeper and darker shades. The man pushes and kicks, fighting his buoyancy, feeling the weight of water build and build, following the clean lines of ice down into oblivion.

Heavy, crushing pressure begins to squeeze him. It is like the weight of memory, everywhere pushing, everywhere trying to change and deform him from his human shape, trying to make his courage fail and shatter his hope. But he loves the iceberg and he needs to follow her down.

At the utmost point of indigo darkness, he finds a new light. It shines from a clear chamber in the ice where a figure waits. Lungs bursting, he pushes deeper, drawing level to the translucent walls and the woman who lies inside.

She is naked but for her long, tawny hair. Like a lion’s mane, it frames her long, pure face and spills over her delicate, perfect shoulders. She looks at peace. Her eyes are closed, but she is smiling.

This is the heart of the iceberg, the man thinks, in the crushing pressure of the deep. So beautiful.

Then he sees that she rests upon a bed of long, sharp thorns.


Author Bio

Lee Hunt

Born with only one working lung and having had the last rights read to him and dying of an influenza related viral pneumonia, 25-year-old geophysicist Lee Hunt experienced several near-death dreams. The power of communication and the need to both understand and be understood was at the heart of each. He had already found that nothing was more important than being able to cross the distance between people.

Lee’s interests are eclectic. He is an Ironman Triathlete, hiker, traveler, and an enthusiastic sport rock climber. Lee also continues to work as a geophysicist on Carbon Capture and Sequestration projects, and is a writer for BIG-Media.ca.

The dream of understanding and being understood has never left his mind, and Lee continues that in his works of fiction through metaphor. His works include The Dynamicist Trilogy, Last Worst Hopes and Bed of Rose and Thorns.

Author Website: https://www.leehunt.org/

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100052376555360

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

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1196106.Lee_Hunt

Author Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com): https://www.limfic.com/mbm-book-author/lee-hunt/

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Lee-Hunt/e/B082YFTMCK

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PROMO: White Knight

Promo

White Knight Audio - Mary Rundle

Mary Rundle has just released the audiobook version of White Knight (Blackwood Pack book 8), and it’s also available in eBook and paperback. Plus there’s a giveaway!

The Blackwood Pack saga continues…

This is part of an on-going series by Amazon International Bestselling Author, Mary Rundle – catching up on previous titles is advised. Readers of the past books will enjoy meeting old friends once more as the pack does what it does best ̶ caring for one another and helping shifters everywhere.

Hunter always expected to be the next Alpha of the Rolling Hills Pack until he had to walk away, leaving behind his dream, forced to build a new life for himself and his brothers. Arriving with them to visit his cousins at the Blackwood Pack, he never expects to find his mate there, but when he catches his scent, it’s impossible for him to concentrate on anything else, including a secret he has that will change his cousins’ lives.

From the moment Hunter meets Jackson, tempers flare between the two Alphas as their anger builds about secrets both are keeping. Their distrust of each other grows yet they must struggle to find common ground due to their mutual responsibilities toward Hunter’s mate.

Fionn, a rare white dragon, has fought hard for his independence, believing it will protect him from relatives who want to seize his hoard. As a recent member of the Blackwood Pack, he looks forward to sharing the future with his new family. That is, until he realizes he has a mate. Needing time to sort out his feelings, he flees to his hoard, hiding from Hunter who impatiently waits for him.

Together, Fionn and Hunter must put aside past hurts and disappointments as they try to forge a new world for themselves while facing a dangerous threat to Fionn…and to the rest of the Blackwood Pack.

Long-kept secrets, a treacherous attack, an action-packed rescue, and many unexpected twists and turns make this passionate love story by Mary Rundle impossible to put down once you’ve read the first page.

Amazon (eBook, paperback, audio)

QueeRomance Ink | Goodreads


Giveaway

Mary is giving away a $50 Amazon gift card with this tour. Enter to win:

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Excerpt

White Knight meme

Jackson’s eyes narrowed as he saw the flaring of Hunter’s nose. No fucking way! Flicking his gaze down at his cousin’s crotch, he found the telltale bulge confirming his suspicions. His cousin’s mate was one of his pack members.What the fuck do I do now? Jackson’s worries about the reason for Hunter’s visit suddenly seemed trivial compared to what he was now facing. Not wanting to see who his cousin was staring at, he rolled out his Alpha power, just enough to bring Hunter’s attention back to him. “It’s been a long time, Cousin.”

Holy Fuck! How did Jackie do that? Forced to look at his cousin, Hunter found himself unable to move. “Yes, it has,” he replied. “I understand congratulations are in order.”

“Congratulations? What for?” asked Jackson.

“Becoming Alpha of the Blackwood Pack, of course,” Hunter answered.

Wondering how much his cousin knew, Jackson decided to ignore it. Instead, he asked, “Are you going to introduce your brothers to me?”

“Sure,” Hunter replied, but anxious to know the name of his mate, he continued, “but that’s quite a welcoming group you have for us, considering you didn’t know we were arriving today. Do you mind introducing them to me first?”

Standing next to Logan on the porch, Kieran watched the two posturing Alphas with amusement. Suddenly, his spirit spoke to him. Breaking away from his mate, he bolted down the steps.

“Babe! Wait! What are you doing?” called Logan, torn between following his mate and obeying Jackson’s orders to remain where he was. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Macushla, I’m needed! Don’t worry!” Kieran yelled, sprinting towards the motorhome.

Asking their spirit what his mate was doing, Logan gasped, his jaw dropping. Not believing what he heard, he leapt off the porch, shouting, “Wait babe, wait! Jackson, stop Kieran!”

Breaking eye contact with Hunter, Jackson looked over his cousin’s shoulder, catching sight of Kieran opening the motorhome door. “Kieran, stop!” he commanded, upping his Alpha power to force his brother’s mate to obey.

Hunter, following his cousin’s gaze, saw a slender figure about to climb up the steps leading to the inside. What the fuck is going on here? Not knowing who it was, he threw out his Alpha power and ordered, “Stop now!”

Frozen in his tracks as the power from both Alphas temporarily stunned him, Kieran’s spirit took over, breaking him free of their hold, allowing him to scramble up the steps. Once inside, he came face to face with three pairs of eyes staring at him in astonishment. “Hi cousins, nice to meet you but if you don’t mind, can we talk later because I’m needed.” Hurrying to the first door he found, Kieran popped it open. “Hi there, don’t you look fabulous! I love your dress, but can we talk later? Thanks.” Closing the door, he hurried to the next one. Placing his hand on it, he knew this was where he was supposed to be. Quietly slipping inside, he said, “Hi, don’t worry, I’m here to help.”

“Who the fuck was that?” asked Sawyer.

“How did he know?” Robin asked.

“Oh, shit,” Mason said, looking at the big shifter who’d just joined Jackson and Hunter. “This doesn’t look good.”

Stopping next to Jackson, Logan asked, “Why didn’t you stop Kieran?”

“Who’s Kieran?” asked Hunter, “And why did he break into my motorhome?”

“Fuck you, asshole!” Logan snarled.

“Logan, stop,” Jackson ordered.

“Logan?” Hunter asked, astounded at how big his cousin’s twin was. The last time he’d seen Logan, he was a skinny, short kid.

“Logan, meet Hunter, our cousin,” Jackson said.

Giving his cousin an angry glance, Logan turned back to his brother. “Bro, I need to speak to you…alone!”

At a loss for what was going on, Hunter decided to retreat. “I understand. I’ll just be in there, finding out about who decided to invite himself into my motorhome… without permission, I might add.”

“You touch my mate and it’ll be the last thing you ever do,” snarled Logan.

“Your mate? That twink is your mate?” asked Hunter, incredulously.

Seeing red at the implied insult, Logan began to shift, having had enough of his cousin’s attitude towards Kieran.

Glancing at the motorhome, Jackson saw fear and anger in the faces staring back at him. Instantly aware of what would happen if he didn’t put a stop to the brewing conflict, he sent out his Alpha power a bit stronger, waiting until his brother and cousin tilted their heads in submission. “Hunter, stay where you are while I speak to my brother alone. Understand?”

“Yes, Alpha,” Hunter said. Feeling Jackson’s control, he stood still, watching his cousins walk away from him, smirking at their attempt to keep him from listening with his wolf hearing. Shifting his gaze, Hunter sought out the man on the porch who was now tied to him by the Fates, wondering how his cousin would react when he took his mate back east.

Once Jackson felt he and Logan were far enough away from Hunter, he stopped and said, “Okay, what’s Kieran up to now?”

Glancing over his brother’s shoulder to make sure Hunter wasn’t heading for the motorhome, Logan leaned in and whispered into his brother’s ear.

Jerking back, Jackson stared at Logan. “That’s fucking impossible!”

Shaking his head, Logan leaned in again and repeated himself.

The color drained from Jackson’s face as the implications of Logan’s news sank in. Looking toward the porch and zeroing in on his brothers, he thought about how this news would hit them. Then, turning back to Logan, Jackson murmured, “Are you absolutely positive?”

“Yes.”

“Is Kieran okay?”

Logan asked their spirit before answering, “Yes, he’s doing what he can.”

“Get Ian and Colton here but don’t let them know why.”

“Will do, but please protect my mate,” Logan said, before heading for the porch.

Nodding, Jackson strode over to Hunter, blocking his view of the porch and snarled, “What the fuck are you trying to pull? Why didn’t you tell me about this in the first email you sent?”

Waves of powerful anger emanated from Jackson, nearly pushing Hunter to his knees. Forcing himself to stand his ground, he answered, “I did what my mother wanted.”


Author Bio

Mary Rundle logo

A few years ago, I wrote my first book, Dire Warning. Readers loved it and I was on my way to chronicle the Blackwood Pack, seven brothers who are gay wolf shifters in search of their fated mates—stories about love at first sight with twists and turns, angst and humor, romance and adventure and, of course, happy endings. Since then, the pack has expanded, allowing more stories to be told and different paranormals to be included. The series has become, as one reader described it…an “Epic Saga.”

Now, eleven books later, Blood Prophecy, has just been published. I love the M/M paranormal genre because it gives my imagination a lot of territory in which to roam. My mind can really run wild and come up with some amazing stuff when it doesn’t have to stay inside the box. My story ideas come to me as if they were being channeled by my characters, all of whom I love (except for a few villains). They are eager to recount their lives, loves and adventures, and are not reluctant to let it all out when it comes to revealing steamy details. My writing style is free-wheeling and uninhibited and my readers tell me they love it that way; that it makes them feel like they’re right in on the action and a member of the Blackwood Pack.

I live in the Northeast and love the beautiful change of seasons, my husband, and our quirky calico cat, though not necessarily in that order. I read a lot (good for the mind) and love gardening (good for the soul). And I’m always happy to hear from my readers and can be reached through Facebook, my private Facebook Group, Twitter, Instagram, or my website.

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

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/maryrundle69

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

Author Facebook (Blackwood Pack: https://www.facebook.com/groups/171112140176036

Author Twitter: https://twitter.com/MaryRundle69

Author TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@maryrundleauthor

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/maryrundle69

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14246427.Mary_Rundle

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/mary-rundle/

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Mary-Rundle/e/B0763CDQQ6

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PROMO: Last Worst Hopes

Promo

Last Worst Hopes - Lee Hunt

Lee Hunt has a new epic fantasy out in both eBook/print and audiobook formats, set in the world of the Dynamicist Trilogy: Last Worst Hopes. And there’s a giveaway!

Their world was ending, all the heroes were dead, the leaders confused, and their enemies were head and shoulders above them. But there was no one else; they were the dregs, the last worst hopes.

Nehring Ardgour has summoned Skoll and Hati from hell. They have torn through the proud and ancient country of Engevelen and the angelic Methueyn Knights that protect it. Armies have died, cities have fallen. None of the great remain. No brilliant inventors, no powerful knights, no master wizards.

No heroes.

But it gets worse. Farrah Harbinger has looked into the future and foretells the coming of an enemy worse than all the others, a creature of destruction and entropy like no other. A being who will grind all hopes and memory of civilization into dust: the One, True Devil.

Who can stop it? Who is left to even try?

Surely not Val, an arrogant young wizard who no one takes seriously, or Mick, an old man who can’t even remember his name. Certainly not Dav, who cannot seem to tell left from right or up from down, or Aveline, a squire filled with more questions than courage. No one would pick them to save the world, and yet there is no one else left.

Universal Buy Link | Get it On Amazon


Giveaway

Lee is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour:

a Rafflecopter giveawayhttps://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47235/?


Excerpt

They watched, hardly daring to breathe. Then, as if buffeted by a sudden wind, something stirred among the trees. An instant later, the movement resolved into soldiers, running, seven of them, bursting from the trees. It looked like someone in the group might have stumbled and been helped up by others.

The horn called a single note, which cut off almost before fully forming.

“Run!” shouted the major.

“Run!” shouted Havard.

The call echoed up and down the line, but to Mick it did not look like the soldiers were running fast at all. It almost never does, when you’re watching someone impatiently, and absolutely never does when they might die if they’re too slow. He wondered how he knew this.

The image of Sir Valence playing fetch with Fenris blazed like the sun in Mick’s eyes.

Last chances.

Mick did not shout “Run!” but suddenly, unaccountably, he found himself over the line with a pike in his hands, running toward the struggling rangers. He did not remember grabbing the pike or leaping over the wall. He did not remember if landing from the six-foot height had hurt his ancient knees. Mick did not remember his earlier self-doubt, never worried if he would get to the rangers in time, never speculated that he might not be needed, or if his effort was a fool’s errand, the futile histrionics of a mad, old fool from a house of fools, never wondered if he might do more harm than good or fretted that a wall of monsters might come out of the trees and dwarf any effort a hundred of him could muster. He never considered in any way the question of leaping the wall or not. There was no thought or speech involved at all.

He simply ran.

“Mick, get back here!” bellowed Havard. “For knight’s sake, stop!”

But Mick was gone.

The ground sped by quickly as the rangers grew closer and closer. Two huge, strange shapes broke out of the trees, aiming straight for the soldiers. He tightened his grip on the pike, lowered his head, and charged.

The rangers abruptly stopped and formed a semi-circle. One of them limped on as the rest rotated their spears and planted them, gleaming tips pointing up and back toward the trees. An instant later, the skolves hit them, hard, pushing recklessly into the rangers’ spears, swiping at them with their rusty swords. For a moment, the spears held them there, but could not turn them back. Mick could see the skolves shake from side to side, paws, swords and bodies trying to dislodge the spears from the rangers’ hands and get inside their arcuate line.

As Mick rushed toward the battle, one of the spears broke. The rightmost skolve lunged forward with a roar and was immediately hit on its horse-length head by an overhand sword stroke delivered by one of the rangers. The creature reeled back and fell.

Mick broke left for several long strides, then sharply right into the flank of the skolve still held at spear length. “Last chance!” he roared as he lunged and thrust his pike straight into the chest of the beast, taking it off its feet so suddenly that its sword flew out of its huge paw, tracing a spinning arc through the sky before disappearing into the grass. Ferociously, the old man twisted the bladed end of the pike, which had penetrated a foot-and-a-half into the creature’s chest cavity, and step-pulled it out. Dark red blood sloshed out of the ragged wound, but the beast was done. It could only collapse and curl weakly around itself.

The other skolve was struggling under spear thrusts from four of the rangers. With an incomprehensible roar, Mick leaped forward and rammed his spear into the skolve’s head, just missing its eye. It skittered along skull until it caught at the base of where its cheekbone would be. Mick pushed harder, forcing the skolve’s head roughly to the earth, and the haft broke, making him stumble forward with seven feet of wood in his hands. He stepped between the rangers, shifted his grip, and speared the skolve again in the snout with the broken end of the pike haft. It tried to scramble up but collapsed, bleeding from dozens of wounds, but the soldiers kept slashing at it. No one was certain when it would be safe to stop stabbing. Another ranger was rolling around on the ground, hands to his leg, blood seeping between fingers.

“Pick him up,” said one of the rangers at last, a man with a rough goatee.

Mick shouldered his way in, whipped off his belt, slapped the man’s hands away from his leg, and wrapped it tight twice around, just above a large gash oozing red. “I’ll take him,” he wheezed, picking the soldier up and slinging him over his shoulder.

“Run!” a female ranger screamed. “There’s more coming!” Her voice dropped. “All of them.”

Mick did not bother looking back, knew that there was no looking back once over the wall once the chance was taken. There were, however, consequences.

A vast, high-pitched wail passed overhead. A sheet of arrows. Mick knew the sound from somewhere in the distant past. A storm punctuated by the pounding of arrows as they struck their targets. Mick did not look back.

“Look out!” cried the man he was carrying, and an instant later something heavy struck the back of Mick’s leg. He stumbled and went down. The soldier flopped off his shoulders with a scream. “Ahhh. Fuck me,” the man groaned. “Why?” he cried piteously as he rolled weakly, one arm over his face.

Mick staggered back up, hopped, found that his legs still worked, saw nothing was sticking out of himself, shoveled the ranger back up into his arms, and started running again.

“Grandpa,” the ranger whispered. “Grandpa … don’t drop me again.”


Author Bio

Lee Hunt

Born with only one working lung and having had the last rights read to him and dying of an influenza related viral pneumonia, 25-year-old geophysicist Lee Hunt experienced several near-death dreams. The power of communication and the need to both understand and be understood was at the heart of each. He had already found that nothing was more important than being able to cross the distance between people.

Lee’s interests are eclectic. He is an Ironman Triathlete, hiker, traveler, and an enthusiastic sport rock climber. Lee also continues to work as a geophysicist on Carbon Capture and Sequestration projects, and is a writer for BIG-Media.ca.

The dream of understanding and being understood has never left his mind, and Lee continues that in his works of fiction through metaphor. His works include The Dynamicist Trilogy, Last Worst Hopes and Bed of Rose and Thorns.

Author Website: https://www.leehunt.org/

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100052376555360

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

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1196106.Lee_Hunt

Author Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com): DynamicistAuthor

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Lee-Hunt/e/B082YFTMCK

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