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A.D. Ellis has a new contemporary MM romance out: “Hearts Ablaze.”
Chase Steele and Xander Copperfield are down on their luck, as similar as they are different, and ready for a love they didn’t even realize they’d been waiting on their whole lives.
With two gorgeous “tough guys” discovering and exploring their true selves, Hearts Ablaze is a steamy, slow-burn, friends-to-lovers, opposites attract, bisexual awakening romance.
*This is the first book in the Forged in the City series.*
About the Series:
Love will find you whether you’re ready for it or not. Join the men of the Forged in the City series as they navigate the twists and turns of falling in love when it’s least expected. This series contains steamy, M/M age-gap, opposites-attract, friends-to-lovers romance tropes.
A.D. is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour. Enter via Rafflecopter for a chance to win:
As I quietly opened the door, I was overcome with nervous anticipation. Sage and Bode were nice, they invited me to stay, there was no reason to feel like I was intruding or needed to sneak around.
Yet, I found myself just outside of the kitchen eavesdropping on Sage and Bode. I hadn’t meant to slink in the shadows and listen to their conversation, I just wasn’t exactly sure where I wanted to be and their words caught my attention. Before I knew what was happening, I was spying like a damn spying spier.
“Think about it. It’s like fate. Remember when you didn’t want me to move in here? You did everything you could to convince the guys to pick someone else. But you ended up with me and it turned out to be fabulous.” Sage’s words were low and persuasive. “Ginny finds her long-lost nephew, he discovers his aunt and a sister he never knew, and it looked very much like he and Xan are totally hitting it off.”
“Babe, he’s a complete stranger.” Bode’s words were gruff.
“Ginny had his records checked. You checked his records—even had Mark check them which I’m still not okay with. We could run a complete check for employment.” Sage paused and I heard the soft noises of a gentle kiss.
I was a total perv hiding in the shadows and getting turned on knowing Sage and Bode were kissing.
“We need an employee. We have an extra room.” Sage was laying it on thick. “We could help bring two siblings together and maybe even strike a love connection.”
Bode began to speak, but I missed what he said because I nearly shit myself as Rosie gripped my hand and basically screamed, “Whatcha doin? Why you hidin?”
Sage and Bode stuck their heads out of the kitchen and I prayed to melt into a puddle right there. Rosie shrugged when she realized it wasn’t a game and went back to playing with Oliver.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to listen in.” My words poured from me like the pathetic excuse they were. “Really, I came for coffee, heard Sage and didn’t want to interrupt. By the time I realized you were talking about me, it was too late and I was frozen.” I ran a hand over my face, my cheeks on fire. “Shit, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t sweat it,” Sage assured and waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Coffee?”
Since I wasn’t lucky enough to die on the spot, I nodded and entered the kitchen. “Yes, please.”
“Well, what would you think?” Bode leaned against the counter.
“About?” I stammered.
Sage beamed at Bode. It was clear Sage had won. Something told me Sage often won when it came to winning over Bode.
“Sage is right. We do need an employee at The Lizard. We lost quite a few people to college graduation or busy school schedules.” Bode shrugged. “We planned on inviting you to be around as much as possible to build a relationship with Rosie. If you’d be willing to have a complete background check, the position and room are yours.”
I stared at him for years. Decades even.
“What’s wrong with him? Did I break him?” Bode scowled and spoke out of the corner of his mouth to Sage.
Sage chuckled and moved closer to me. He pushed my jaw up. “Close your mouth, sweetie.” He stepped between me and Bode. “Chase, would you like a job at The Salty Lizard? It’s not glamorous or exciting.” He frowned. “Actually, it can be kinda exciting sometimes. And it’s always fun. Great people.” He dipped his head to catch my eyes. “Chase? Job? You want it?”
I nodded and tried to work my sandpapery thick tongue. “Yes, yes, of course, I want it.” I tried to breathe, but my lungs seemed to be faltering.
“We have a room here. You’d pay rent, but it’s a decent price. We’d set some ground rules. You’d have to be okay living with kids.” Sage spoke slowly as if trying to explain quantum physics to me. “Would you like the room?”
“I, um, I just can’t. I mean, yes, of course I’d want the room, but I can’t ask you guys to give me a job, give me a room, and let me hang with my sister. It’s too much.” I moved to the right and leaned against the sink.
“Want to talk about the rent and salary? Make a decision from there?” Sage patted my arm.
I nodded mutely.
Sage went to check on the kids and set them up with crayons and coloring books along with Kidz Bop on a tablet.
A.D. Ellis is an Indiana girl, born and raised. She spends much of her time in central Indiana as an instructional coach/teacher in the inner city of Indianapolis, being a mom to two amazing school-aged children, and wondering how she and her husband of almost two decades have managed to not drive each other insane. A lot of her time is also devoted to phone call avoidance and her hatred of cooking.
She loves chocolate, wine with friends, pizza, crocheting and naps along with reading and writing romance. These loves don’t leave much time for housework, much to the chagrin of her husband. Who would pick cleaning the house over a nap or a good book? She uses any extra time to increase her fluency in sarcasm.
Author Website: https://www.adellisauthor.com
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Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/A.D.-Ellis/e/B00K0YJ8CW
Bryan T. Clark has a new contemporary MM romance out: “Far Away.” And there’s a giveaway!
First love can save you … and ruin you …
Eighteen-year-old Noah Rothenberg spent the perfect summer with his first love, the charming and seductive Spiro. He fell head over heels in love from what started as a clumsy crush.
But that was twelve years ago. His relationships since have been spectacular failures because of how things ended with Spiro. If he has any hope of moving forward, he needs to find Spiro and get some closure … even if he has to fly halfway around the world to do it. Too bad he instead finds himself falling—again—for the man who ruined him for all other men.
Love isn’t an emotion Spiro Papadopoulos entirely trusts anymore. He’s far too pragmatic for that. His focus these days has to be on his art and caring for his ailing mother. Being with Noah again is easy and feels so right … but is it love? Spiro isn’t sure. Besides, with his entire life being tied to Greece and Noah’s to New York, love might just be a luxury neither of them can afford.
Can Spiro and Noah overcome the oceans and years between them—or will their second chance at love end as badly as their first?
Bryan is giving away a $25 Amazon gift card with this tour – enter via Rafflecopter for a chance to win:
“Good morning, Mr. Rothenberg.” Eros put a hand on his knee to steady himself as he stood. Aloof in the shadows, Spiro held his gaze on him. Noah couldn’t look away as Spiro’s eyes washed over him from head to toe. Were they brown or green? Afraid he’d stared too long, he broke eye contact, his eyes sweeping past the visitor’s long dark sideburns that cupped his ears.
“Sorry to disturb you.” Noah’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried to put on a cool and collected face, not wanting to seem like the dork that he was. “I was hoping you could help this morning with the rowboat.” His thumb pointed to the boathouse, but his eyes remained on Spiro. Face-to-face, Eros’s nephew was… beautiful. A statue of beauty.
Noah tried to look away but couldn’t. Yes, Spiro was a hair taller than he. His square jawline, straight nose, and jade eyes rimmed in gold were mesmerizing. Noah’s heart sped as he broke eye contact. Excitement swirled in his gut at the proximity of this Adonis.
“Sure.” Eros tossed his hammer into his box of tools. Noah’s eyes followed Eros as Eros turned and spoke to his nephew.
Noah’s eyes drifted to Spiro’s bow-shaped lips before moving up to his eyes. Their eyes met, causing Noah’s heart to skip a beat. Noah had no idea what he saw in those cat eyes that were staring intensely back at him and caused his heart to flutter. It wasn’t disdain, dominance, or dismissal, the usual looks his peers gave him upon meeting him for the first time. It was… he’s really looking at me.
Everything about Spiro enthralled him. No longer wishing away the next two months before he could escape to Harvard, he was cautiously excited about the summer.
“Hi, I’m Noah.” He felt the heat of a blush on his cheeks as he extended his hand. Spiro looked directly at him; his deep stare instantly pinned Noah. His dark locks of hair, jet black, ran the length of his neck and curled at the nape of his neck. Noah tried to release a breath quietly. Adrenaline pumped through his veins like the multiple streams that fed into Lake Winnipesaukee. He’d never acted this boldly when it came to meeting someone. The way Spiro looked at him gave him the boost of confidence that he could actually stand here and talk to him. This was a first, and it surprised him.
Spiro shook Noah’s hand. “Um, my English is not so good. My name is Spiro.” A deep voice cast from his full lips. Spiro saying his own name sounded more exotic than when Noah’s grandmother said it.
Geeze Louise, his teeth are perfect, too. They’re so freaking white. Noah stumbled over his own words as he searched for something to say. Spiro’s gaze kept Noah from looking for more than a second before lowering his head.
Bryan T. Clark is a multi-published award-winning author of gay romance, and contemporary books.
In his early in life, Bryan learned that he was different from everyone else in his world. As a young African American boy, he was the second to the youngest of seven children. Long before hormones kicked in and the realization of same sex attraction, it was his light skin and blond hair that made him different from those around him. Teased within his own race for being lighter than everyone else, the kids on the playground called him “Cornbread”.
As a writer, Bryan has taken back the power once given up to those schoolyard bullies. He is committed to bringing his readers stories of real life, with multicultural characters, riveting plots, and where the underdog always wins. He is the founder of Cornbread Publishing: the name empowers him and is a constant reminder that life can have a Happily-Ever-After.
Born in Boston, Massachusetts, Bryan and his husband of thirty-six years has made their home and life in the Central Valley of California.
Author Website: https://www.btclark.com
Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/btclarkauthor
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Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Bryan-Clark/e/B00INKEVWM
Pirates of Romance
7 April 2020
Cover Art & Formatting by Alina Popescu
Xander joins his local am-dram group in order to make friends. He certainly doesn’t expect to fall for the group’s playboy star.
Graeme is confident and easygoing. He believes in fun without commitment. However, all that changes when Xander gets under his skin.
Universal Buy Link: https://books2read.com/piratesofromance
YouTube Excerpt: https://youtu.be/7AKfp-9sU38
Dianne Hartsock has a new MM fantasy romance book out, The Karthagans Book One: “Belega.”
The Karthagans have regained their ancient powers of manipulating nature, but at the price of madness. In their lust for control they’ve destroyed their island and most of their race. They come now to Belega where one of them, Camron, seeks domination over the known world.
The Mage has come from the northern continent of Sennia to bring peace, but finding his strength no match for the coming struggle, he passes his abilities on to Natan, who only desires a simple life. Now only Natan has the ability to stop Camron, but the personal cost is more than he imagines.
It is only with the combined strength of his friends, his Karthagan lover, Kavi, and his deep desire to bring peace to the earth, that he finds the courage to overcome Camron and restore balance to the world. The power of the mind is immense.
In this world, mankind has learned to gather the energies of creation to use at their whim. But absolute power corrupts absolutely.
Publisher | Amazon | Amazon UK | Amazon CAN
Dianne is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour – enter via Rafflecopter:
“I have you.”
Natan rose into a low crouch from the scrub brush, careful not to scrape his cloak against the foliage, and searched his memory for the trick Kavi had taught him. Oh, yes. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, releasing all worries. His expectations. Letting go. The clip of the horse’s hooves echoed in his mind and he concentrated on that, the smell of the horse, the feel of its hide, the oats on its breath. He became aware of a vague fear in the animal’s mind.
But then the tenuous connection broke without time to try again as the soldier leading the roan brought him to a stop, his gaze sweeping the path ahead, alert. Gathering his scattered wits as best he could, Natan lunged to his feet and dove for the soldier’s legs. They went down hard, Natan gasping at the whoosh of air against his cheek as the horse reared, hooves barely missing him. Knowing he was no match for the soldier physically, he scrambled to jab a knee into the man’s back, then drew his thin knife and pressed it against the pulse at his throat and felt him stiffen.
“Hold very still,” he warned. The soldier didn’t move as the keen blade inadvertently nicked his skin. Recalling Kavi’s imprisonment, Natan gritted his teeth and swung his arm back, then brought the hilt of the knife down sharply on his vulnerable skull. The man went limp with a grunt. Natan climbed to his feet, cursing under his breath as the horse disappeared up the trail. He rolled the man over so his face wouldn’t be in the dirt, making sure he could breathe without difficulty.
Frowning at the thick trees crowding them, he left his captive a moment to scout the vicinity, at last coming upon a small clearing off the trail. It took some effort to drag the unconscious soldier to the spot, and a relief to roll the heavy body down the last few feet. He retrieved leather strips from his pack and bound the man’s hands and feet to a small sapling, and examined the soldier’s head once again. Although the purplish welt had swollen, the bleeding had stopped.
Natan watched the soldier a moment, and shook his head in disgust when he didn’t waken. “Hit him too hard,” he muttered, angry with himself. He built a small fire as the air grew chilly, and sat with his back to a tree while he waited for the soldier to regain consciousness. Darkness descended on the forest and he chewed his lips in growing anxiety. Bryon had gone to Nagal to petition the Mage to help them recover Kavi. Had he reached the city yet? If so, Natan would need to be at the Lake of Glass to meet with them in a few short days. A lifetime, while Kavi remained captive.
He sharpened his knife on a whetstone to pass the time while the soldier remained unconscious. The stars came out and an ache crept into his chest as he thought of Kavi and how they used to lie awake and watch for falling stars. Natan would make them tea in a little pot over the fire, and they’d wrap in warm blankets and talk quietly while the sky wheeled overhead. Sometimes they made love, Kavi’s warm sleek body pliant as Natan searched out new ways to draw those sweet breathy moans from his lips.
And then it had all ended. Natan closed his eyes at the jab of pain in his heart. The Nagal soldiers had come to their camp and dragged Kavi away, laughing when Natan struggled, and methodically beat him senseless. That had been two weeks ago, and every attempt he’d made to find his lover had failed. The last time he’d been threatened with imprisonment himself.
He would do Kavi no good behind iron bars, he reminded himself again.
Natan opened his eyes to find the captive staring at him from where he’d slumped against the tree. Natan went over and helped him to a sitting position.
“What’s your name?” he asked with ice in his voice. The man continued to stare at him, insolent. Natan looked him over carefully. “Let me guess. You’re dressed as a Nagal soldier, though you’re obviously not one. Maybe a deserter? Maybe a Barkuit spy?” He watched the soldier’s face as he named the rival country, then leaned closer to whisper, “What of Kavi?”
“That trash?” the man asked in surprise, and yelped when Natan lunged at him, knife slipping into his hand. “Say that again and I’ll slit your throat. Now, what
is your name?”
“Captain Syros Reed.”
Natan sat back on his heels, fury hot in his chest.
“I could tell you where they mean to bury him,” Syros drawled, holding Natan’s gaze, and smiled slightly at his sharply indrawn breath. “He was alive the last time I saw him, but I heard they mean to bury him soon. If you hurry, he may still be breathing. I don’t know.”
“And you didn’t help him?” With a sudden enraged cry Natan drove his knife into the sapling inches from Syros’s face. “He’d better be alive, for your sake.”
He left his water skin for Syros, should the man succeed in freeing himself, then gave the soldier no more thought as he snatched up his pack and settled into the long run ahead, determined to be at the Lake of Glass on time.
Dianne grew up in one of the older homes in the middle of Los Angeles, a place of hardwood floors and secret closets and back staircases. A house where ghosts lurk in the basement and the faces in the paintings watch you walk up the front stairs. Rooms where you keep the closet doors closed tight at night. It’s where her love of the mysterious and wonderful came from. Dianne is the author of paranormal/suspense, fantasy adventure, m/m romance, the occasional thriller, and anything else that comes to mind.
She now lives in the beautiful Willamette Valley of Oregon with her incredibly patient husband, who puts up with the endless hours she spends hunched over the keyboard letting her characters play. Dianne says Oregon’s raindrops are the perfect setting in which to write. There’s something about being cooped up in the house with a fire crackling on the hearth and a cup of hot coffee in her hands, which kindles her imagination.
Currently, Dianne works as a floral designer in a locally-owned gift shop. Which is the perfect job for her. When not writing, she can express herself through the rich colors and textures of flowers and foliage.
Author Website: http://diannehartsock.wordpress.com/
Author Facebook (Personal): http://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/diannehartsock
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Author Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Dianne-Hartsock/e/B005106SYQ/
Kim Fielding and F.E. Feeley Jr. have a new gay horror book out:
Can you hear it?
Whispering in the dark.
Secrets only the dark knows.
Joseph Moore, choir director for the First Baptist Church of Lenora, Nebraska, has secrets of his own. Terrible, lonely secrets. One that involves natural human desire. One that calls forth powers he cannot begin to understand. Both with the potential to destroy him and those he loves.
Now the world is changing. The darkness, the shadows, the ghosts, are closing in—and Joseph and his lover, Kevin, are being stalked by a merciless demon, hell-bent on possession.
Can you hear it now?
Warnings: violence. This is not a romance.
There in the dark.
It’s whispering your name.
Amazon | iBooks | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Smashwords
Kim and F.E. are giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this cover reveal and tour. For a chance to win, enter via Rafflecopter:
Joseph fought against the hands on his shoulders. The room was sweltering, and all his strength had sapped away.
“Joseph, open your eyes! Open your eyes, dammit!”
He was being shaken, and despite his unwillingness, his eyes opened. Kevin’s face stared down at him.
“Fuck you. Let me go!”
Joseph pulled away and fell backward onto the altar steps. His attempt to break the fall caused his wrist to smart painfully, and he whimpered. His whole body shook; he felt sick to his stomach.
Kevin raised his hands in surrender. “What the hell, man? Who did this to you?”
“What do you mean, ‘what’? You’re beat to shit. Did someone jump you?”
Joseph looked down and saw his scratched-up legs and swollen ankle. He scanned the sanctuary, half expecting the shadowed figure to be lurking somewhere nearby. But that wasn’t the case. All the lights were on, brilliantly illuminating every corner. There was no sign of the spirit who normally haunted the place.
“Who are you looking for?”
Joseph faced Kevin once again. “What? No one. What are you doing here?”
Although Kevin had been bare-chested at their last meeting, he was wearing a shirt now. Well, part of a shirt. It was an old Budweiser tee with the sleeves cut out and the sides wide open. When he moved, it revealed glimpses of his chest and flat stomach. Joseph felt his face flush as he averted his gaze.
“I was driving by and saw all the lights on and the door open. Figured the joint was getting robbed or somethin’. Then I found you wailing on the floor in…. Damn, dude. Look at your wrist.”
Joseph saw it was swollen. The memory of where he’d been flashed in his mind once more. The red-eyed gaze was burned into his memory.
But that had all been a dream, hadn’t it?
Please, Lord, let it have been a dream.
“Who did this to you?” Kevin repeated with a furrowed brow.
“Nobody. Look, I came back here because I thought I left something, and I fell. I must have banged my head or something.”
“You fell. Where? Into a war zone?”
Joseph snorted a laugh and looked up at him ruefully. “I don’t know what happened.” He hoped Kevin would leave it alone.
Outside, thunder crashed loudly enough to make them jump, and through the front door of the church, they could see the rain falling in torrents.
“Shit, my car windows!” Kevin took off running.
Joseph watched him go, Kevin’s ass bouncing as his long legs carried him out of the door. “Dammit,” Joseph muttered as he clenched his eyes closed.
He tried to get up, but as soon as he put weight on his ankle, it gave and forced him to sit back down.
What am I going to do?
Just then he saw the ghost once more. She was floating on the upstairs balcony, looking down at him. Her mouth was moving, and if Joseph sat really still, he swore he could hear her words, carried on the wind that howled through the open church door.
Rock of Ages, cleft for me
Let me hide myself in thee
He felt sadness wash over him. She wasn’t terrible to look at; in life she must have been quite beautiful. But he didn’t know how to help her.
“You must help them, cher.” Celine had said.
Kevin dashed in through the door. His jeans were soaked and his wannabe T-shirt stuck to his muscular build. “Well, we got two options.”
“Yeah, what’s that?”
“We could wait out the storm before I take you home, or I can haul your crippled ass right now into said storm and take you home.”
Joseph reached out his good hand to Kevin, who grasped it and pulled. Joseph lurched to his feet and, in trying to keep the weight off his swollen ankle, ended up clinging to Kevin. They were almost nose to nose, staring into each other’s eyes as they held fast.
Blood pounded in his Joseph’s head. “I gotta get home.”
Kevin’s long eyelashes fluttered once, twice, three times before registering what he’d said. Yet his hands didn’t move. The two of them looked as if they were on a dance floor waiting for a waltz to start.
“Yeah, let’s get you home. Here, lean on me.”
“I appreciate it.”
They moved slowly across the floor of the church.
“You gonna tell me who did this?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“Crazy shit, man.”
Joseph nodded. “Yup. It’s been a hell of a night.”
They closed the door behind them, got into the car, and drove cautiously into the downpour with the windshield wipers slapping.
Five minutes later, the lights they’d forgotten to turn off went dark.
Kim Fielding is the bestselling author of numerous m/m romance novels, novellas, and short stories. Like Kim herself, her work is eclectic, spanning genres such as contemporary, fantasy, paranormal, and historical. Her stories are set in alternate worlds, in 15th century Bosnia, in modern-day Oregon. Her heroes are hipster architect werewolves, housekeepers, maimed giants, and conflicted graduate students. They’re usually flawed, they often encounter terrible obstacles, but they always find love.
After having migrated back and forth across the western two-thirds of the United States, Kim calls California home. She lives there with her family and her day job as a university professor, but escapes as often as possible via car, train, plane, or boat. This may explain why her characters often seem to be in transit as well. She dreams of traveling and writing full-time.
Author Website: http://kfieldingwrites.com
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Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Kim-Fielding/
F.E. Feeley Jr.
First and foremost, I am a husband to my wonderful husband, John. I am a father of our five-year-old German Shephard, Kaiser. I am an avid reader of Mysteries, Horror, and Suspense, and biographies. I am a gamer. My favorite ones are Dragon Age, Mass Effect, Star Trek Online, Skyrim, Assassin’s Creed, Fallout, and Civilization Five. I love to cook and I love trying new recipes (hint hint). I am an avid music junkie from POPular music to Opera, to Showtunes, Gospel, Rock, Rap, and Hip Hop. I am also a Poet – a lot of which is offered on this web page for free. And I do some gay fiction writing from time to time.
I love connecting with people. As an ex- fundi, I grew up in a world where there was this invisible boundary set down between me and the world around me. I felt more like an observer than an actual participant in that world. Since I’ve left fundamentalism – it has been my constant endeavor to be a part of the world. To be a part of humanity. And when I write my poetry or my books, I draw from the experiences of being raised in that environment as well as the experiences of tasting the bouquet of humanity I’d been denied all those years ago.
Author Website: https://fefeeleyjr.com
Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/groups/170296487228770/
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Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/F-E-Feeley-Jr/
E.M. Hamill has a new queer sci fi book out, book two in the Dalí Tamareia series: “Peacemaker.”
Third-gender operative Dalí Tamareia thought their life as an ambassador ended when they joined a galactic intelligence agency. When they’re yanked out of the field and tapped to negotiate the surrender of deadly bio-engineered warriors who crashed into hostile territory, Dalí is thrust headfirst back into the tumultuous world of galactic diplomacy.
Dalí has faced Shontavians before, but not like these. The stranded mercenaries are highly intelligent and have an agenda of their own. Dalí can’t afford to be distracted from the negotiations by their own demons or the presence of a charming diplomat with a mysterious past.
As a brewing civil war threatens to derail the entire mission, Dalí must use all their skills to bring this dangerous situation to a peaceful end—but the Shontavians may not be the biggest monsters at the table. Someone is determined to see Dalí and their team dead before they discover the brutal truth hiding in the wreckage.
E.M. is giving away a $15 Amazon gift card with this tour. Enter via Rafflecopter:
Direct Link: hhttp://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47116/?
I took a quick turn in the cleanser to rid my skin and hair of the tacky residue left by the decon spray. In the warmth and vibration, I shuddered as the last of the physical characteristics I’d adapted to pass as male shifted back into my neutral, sexless state. My crewmates didn’t expect me to assume a gender, something for which I remained grateful. Without hormone stimulation to drive the change, the process was more painful, and my shoulders complained against the grind of bone and muscle.
I tamed my wavy brown mop as best I could, drawing it into a short, braided queue at the back of my neck before putting on the dress black uniform hanging in my quarters. The white starburst of diplomacy blazed in holographic relief on my left shoulder with the multiarmed spiral of the Remoliad’s sigil on the opposite sleeve.
To be back in the uniform of an ambassador felt strange. Transient reflections in the narrow window showed a me I hadn’t acknowledged in over two years. I barely recognized the echo of who I used to be, a transparent ghost against the stars outside.
The reason I had been pulled out of the field began to make sense, though I still didn’t know what the assignment entailed. Time to find out.
At the closed door of Sumner’s ready room, I tugged at the tunic’s high collar, squared my shoulders, and tapped on the panel to request entry.
“Commander. Permission to enter?”
“Granted.” The door slid aside with his verbal acknowledgment. I stepped through.
Silhouetted by the flicker of busy data screens behind the desk, Sumner wore a black uniform with insignias of diplomatic service similar to mine but without the starburst rank of ambassador. Instead, he wore the pips of an officer in the Remoliad Fleet on the high neck of his collar. He stared at the screen of a PDD, his expression dark and troubled.
Sumner glanced up and a crooked grin formed on his lips as he rose. “Ambassador Tamareia. I haven’t seen you in a while.”
His vocal inflections sounded almost normal, but his eyes still held frost. We were never this formal with each other, a sign of the tension between us.
“I haven’t seen me in a long time either. It feels very strange.” I took a deep breath. “I would like to apologize for my insubordination, especially for what I said in med bay, Commander. I was out of line.” Embarrassment burned in my cheeks, and I lowered my gaze. “I owe Melos and Ziggy more than an apology. I was under the influence on a mission, and I put the lives of my teammates in danger. I will accept the consequences of my actions as you deem appropriate.”
“Grab a chair.” He gestured opposite his desk, and I sat. “I think I owe you an apology as well. I’ve gotten used to autonomy. When some bureaucrat tells me to drop whatever I’m doing and pull my operatives in the middle of a potentially productive mission, it pisses me off. The order to recall you came from so far over my head I got vertigo. The rest is just the frost on the comet, and it pushed me over the line.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for the vendetta remark.”
“No, you were right. I needed to be reminded why I’m here. You promised only that I will be involved when we take them down, not that I would be the instrument.” No matter how badly I wanted the privilege, I had a bigger job to do. “Who told you to recall me?”
His mouth twisted in an ironic smile. “The Remoliad security council.”
My eyebrows threatened to merge with my hairline. “The security council has authority over the Penumbra?”
“Technically. My superior answers to the secretary general, but it’s almost unheard of to receive a direct order from any office.”
“I don’t understand.” I frowned. “Did my mother have anything to do with this?”
“No, Ambassador Urquhart isn’t involved as far as we can tell. We checked since the order was so specific. But I just received more details.” He handed me the data device he’d been scowling at when I came in. “Against all previous declarations of disdain for galactic alliance, the Ursetu recently issued an emergency petition for their planet to become a member of the Remoliad.”
I narrowed my eyes at him and took the PDD. “I saw something about that in my debriefing file. The crown princess is dead?”
“Yes. The queen and her grandson, Prince Razaxha, are still alive.”
“What happened? Was the planet attacked?”
“Yes and no.” He swept his hand and a heads-up display swirled into view between us. “I’ll warn you up front, this is brutal.”
The wreck of some immense ship blighted the forested grounds of a ziggurat-like palace, silhouetted against the backdrop of a sharp black mountain. Columns of smoke and flames traced the outline of warped and twisted debris. The recording lens zoomed in on a section of the disaster where tiny flashes of light sparked and died. As the picture enlarged, I sat forward in shock.
“Enhance this area.” Sumner circled the spot on the heads-up and spread his fingers. The portion of the holovid expanded, grainy, blurred, and blocked by foliage, but I made it out plainly enough. Enormous, gray-skinned figures piled out of the wreckage.
The four-armed beings appeared unstoppable as they swatted aside the Ursetu and their guns, snatched up the soldiers with their sharp-taloned hands and—
A psychic memory of the taste of blood and entrails hit me so hard I fought the urge to vomit.
“Stop the playback!” I drew heavy breaths through my nose until the nausea passed and my heart stopped pounding. Sumner swept his hand over the enlarged holo, reducing details to a safe distance as my mind attempted to process what I’d seen.
A ship hadn’t crashed in the middle of an Ursetu city. It was the orbiting laboratory where Shontavians were engineered and kept isolated until their sale to whomever bought their mercenary services. It crashed into the planet or was deliberately brought down.
The Ursetu faced monsters of their own making—huge, intelligent creatures with the serrated teeth and claws of a predator, created solely for fighting wars. And they had a craving for sentient meat.
Elisabeth “E.M.” Hamill is a nurse by day, unabashed geek, chocoholic, sci fi and fantasy novelist by nights, weekends, and whenever she can steal quality time with her laptop. She lives with her family, a dog, and a cat in the wilds of eastern suburban Kansas, where they fend off flying monkey attacks and prep for the zombie apocalypse.
Her other books include the acclaimed sci fi novel Dalí, the snarky urban fantasy Nectar and Ambrosia, and several short works of fiction. Visit http://www.elisabethhamill.com for a full list of literary work.
Author Website: https://www.elisabethhamill.com
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Author Twitter: @songmagick
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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.
Lady Jaguar is giving away a $15 Amazon gift card with this tour. Enter via Rafflecopter:
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.
“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.
“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.”
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
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Natalina 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.
Natalina is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card with this tour. Enter via Rafflecopter for a chance to win:
Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47109/?
I’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.”
Natalina 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/
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Genevive 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?
Genevive is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card with this tour. Enter via Rafflecopter:
(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.
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.
Genevive 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.
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