Oct 14

New Release Blitz: The Spymaster’s Secret by Antonia Aquilante (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: The Spymaster’s Secret

Series: Chronicles of Tournai, Book Seven

Author: Antonia Aquilante

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: October 14, 2019

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 107100

Genre: Fantasy, LGBT, Fantasy, paranormal, family-drama, political intrigue, magic, gay, bisexual, royalty, men with children, architect, college, magic users, cat shifter

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Synopsis

Alexander is doing his best to settle into life in Tournai’s royal palace after years living outside the country due to his father’s diplomatic work. The sense of belonging and home he feels is overwhelming, but none of his plans are going as he imagined. Many see him as only a lovely, charming adornment of the royal court and underestimate both his intelligence and abilities. His attraction to Marcus, a mysterious older man who does work for the prince, Alexander’s cousin, is unexpected but not unwelcome…if Marcus could possibly see who Alexander really is.

Lord Marcus is the second son of a minor noble family, a widower raising two children…and the prince’s spymaster. He knows his work is necessary for the security of the kingdom and its royal family, but he also knows it can be distasteful and dangerous to him and those around him. Marcus has vowed never to fall in love again, never to put anyone else at risk—a promise threatened for the first time by the vibrant, flirtatious Alexander. The attraction is unwelcome and entirely undeniable. He can’t believe someone like Alexander would want someone like him, but he also can’t stay away.

As they become ever more entangled, Marcus is investigating rumors of spies at work in Tournai’s university. As he gets closer to uncovering their plot, Alexander is drawn deeper into danger. Can their love survive when Alexander is put in peril by the very spies Marcus is hunting for?

Excerpt

The Spymaster’s Secret
Antonia Aquilante © 2019
All Rights Reserved

“What do you have to tell us, Lord Marcus?”

Marcus sat in one of the chairs across from the pair of desks in the princes’ private office and contemplated Prince Philip. The crown prince had the look of his father and something of his manner, a commanding presence he had probably cultivated since birth. He had the dark hair and classically handsome features of the men in the royal family and the bred-in-the-bone care for this country. Which Marcus had a feeling he might have thrown over in a heartbeat for the man beside him. Prince Consort Amory was shorter and fair with large dark eyes and curling auburn hair. He hadn’t been born into royalty or even nobility, but he’d adapted to his role far better than most of Tournai’s nobility had anticipated. Marcus knew quite well what each noble family thought of the marriage, just past its third anniversary, although the princes had never asked him for the information.

“First, Your Highnesses, the prisoner taken into custody at the border hasn’t answered any questions posed to him. I was asked to try.”

The army had brought the man in from the border several days ago. Tournai was protected from magical attack by a barrier created by a web of spells. Almost no one knew of the spells in Tournai, but someone outside had apparently discovered their protection and was determined to find its weaknesses. The man had been testing the barrier, and somehow the spells had caught and held him until the army could get there. Marcus had to speak with Savarin about how he’d been caught and what weaknesses they should guard against.

Philip frowned. “We need answers from him. I can’t believe the threat has disappeared because we’ve apprehended one man at the border.”

“With all respect, Your Highness, we don’t know what the threat is yet.” Marcus glanced between the princes but returned his attention to Philip. “I’ll do everything I can to find out and quickly, but there is more than one possibility.”

“I think the possibility at the top of our minds is this man was sent by Ardunn,” Amory said in his quiet tone. “I doubt anyone will rest easy until we can rule that out. If we can.”

“It is a possibility, Your Highness, and a strong one.” The Ardunn empire was located far to their east, separated from Tournai by an impassable mountain range and the kingdom of Elleri, but Ardunn’s emperor was obsessed with conquest and seemingly interested in using Tournai as a foothold for gaining control of this half of the continent. The geographical barriers were too great to march an army in, and Ardunn had no naval power to speak of. But they routinely sent their agents into Tournai searching for weaknesses. “However, with the bandit attacks along the border over the last several months, it isn’t the only one. He might have been with the bandits. Or he could’ve been sent from Ardunn or hired by them to test the barriers. The attacks could’ve been orchestrated by Ardunn as well. Or they might be completely unrelated. For all we know, the prisoner was working on his own, unrelated to either the bandits or Ardunn.”

Marcus didn’t much care for that option, as it meant they probably had another enemy lurking, but he also didn’t think it was the most likely either.

Philip’s frown deepened, not even lightening when Amory laid a hand on his arm. “You’re not giving me much helpful information, Lord Marcus.”

“I apologize, Your Highness. All I can do at this point is present you with theories.” He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. He wished he had more for the princes—he took the lack as a personal failure despite the short time he’d had this problem on his desk. “I will do everything I can to get information from our prisoner, and I have people searching for the bandits he was likely traveling with as well.”

“The army has been chasing them for months.” Amory’s remark was said without judgment for either Marcus’s people or the army.

“I’m aware, Your Highness, but my people can go unnoticed in a way the army can’t.”

Amory nodded, thoughtful, but Philip spoke. “Coordinate with Captain Loriot if you need further information, though I can’t imagine you ever lacking information.”

Marcus smiled slightly at Philip’s dry statement. “Far be it from me to ever claim I know everything, Your Highness. That would be the heights of arrogance.”

“If you say so.”

Philip didn’t explain why Marcus should see Loriot if he needed information about a situation the army was overseeing. Loriot’s power ended at the city gates when he wasn’t traveling with the princes. But Marcus could surmise.

“Is there anything else we need to know? Not only about our prisoner, of course.” Philip always phrased the question that way when he asked. Marcus didn’t blame him—there were certain things the princes didn’t need to know, which was why they had Marcus.

“Not at this time, Your Highness.” There were a dozen things Marcus could have told them, but none needed their immediate attention. If any of the rumors his people were chasing down at the university became more substantial, then he’d bring them to the princes.

Philip sat back. “All right, Lord Marcus. Keep us informed about the questioning.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

Dismissed from the royal presence, Marcus let himself into the corridor and turned his steps to the right, following the most direct route out of the wing holding the royal apartments. The princes had formal offices in the palace proper, but Marcus was more often summoned to their private study, the place they did their work, so by now, he knew the way back to the more public areas. He needed to return to the city and his work for the day, of which their prisoner was only one part. There was a meeting later with two of his agents about the whispers they’d picked up at the university, and it might be time for Marcus to find a few moments to return to work on a new truth potion.

If he could get the potion right, it might be useful with their prisoner.

In the middle of the day, these corridors were empty but for the royal guards stationed periodically along them. Marcus doubted they were ever crowded. This part of the palace saw no one except the resident members of the royal family, their guests, and those who served them. Marcus had only ever been allowed in to meet with the princes at their request. His family was lower-ranked nobility, but neither they nor he was in the princes’ inner circle.

He let part of his mind go over the changes he wanted to make to the potion, running through ingredients and proportions while the rest of his focus noted what there was to see in the hallway. The guards were alert and also unobtrusive, which was to be expected. Palace security was Loriot’s purview, and he took his job seriously. His guards were well trained, highly efficient, and well vetted before they even got that far, their trustworthiness in keeping royal matters private ensured further by magic.

Despite the palace being Loriot’s domain, Marcus had a couple of his people placed there to keep an eye on the royal family as well. Those family members who lived in the palace were closest to the princes. While Marcus didn’t expect them to pose a threat, there had been treachery of various kinds over the past few years, and he was wary of anyone trying to get too close. He’d had his people keeping their eyes on the twins—Philip’s cousins through the youngest of his father’s sisters—since they’d arrived unexpectedly back in the autumn with the intention of staying. Marcus had seen no indication they meant any harm, but knowledge was useful, and caution never misplaced.

A laugh shattered the quiet and brought Marcus’s attention fully back to his surroundings. As he approached an intersecting corridor, the two young men he’d been thinking of came around the corner. They were nearly identical in appearance with the same shade of dark hair that glowed red in the light, the same ivory skin and peridot eyes, the same delicate features, an intriguing mix of pretty and sensual. Their differences were slight, but perfectly apparent with a moment’s study. Alexander was slightly taller, and Faelen’s hair fell in loose curls while Alexander’s was a tumble of waves.

He’d made a point of finding out which of them was which. And not because of the way Alexander had looked at him the one previous time he’d been in their presence.

The way Alexander looked at him now. Curious with a spark of something more.

Alexander had been the one laughing, a joyful, delighted sound that made Marcus want to smile. He forced himself not to, forced his face to remain bland and pleasant and unremarkable. Forced himself to ignore the little lurch, the punch of attraction when he looked into Alexander’s eyes.

He had to.

Those eyes sparkled. “Good morning, Lord Marcus.”

Faelen noticed him then. A smile still flirted with his finely wrought lips, but his eyes held none of the same interest as his twin’s. Which Marcus wouldn’t have expected for many reasons—he couldn’t understand why Alexander regarded him the way he did—but mostly because Faelen had apparently taken a serious lover, which he’d subtly announced at court through his presence at Faelen’s side at the princes’ anniversary ball not long ago.

“Good morning, Lord Marcus,” Faelen echoed. “I hope you’re well today.”

Marcus bowed. “Good morning, my lords. I am, thank you, and you?”

“Very well. Thank you,” Faelen replied.

“What brings you to the palace today, Lord Marcus?” Alexander’s tone and words were as smooth as Faelen’s. The two might not have spent most of their lives at Tournai’s court, but perhaps they’d had to become even more skilled because of their years away. A foreign court wasn’t an easy place to live, even a nominally friendly one.

“A meeting with Their Highnesses.” He wouldn’t discuss the subject with anyone without the princes’ permission, and certainly not in a hallway where anyone might hear. He knew better than most the walls often had ears.

Alexander and Faelen didn’t ask, possibly because they knew the necessity of discretion too, as they should as members of Tournai’s ruling family however far removed from the throne. They did exchange a glance, so quick anyone not watching closely would’ve missed it. Some sort of information passed between them in the fleeting look, but what they shared was a mystery to Marcus.

“I’m sure you’re busy, Lord Marcus,” Faelen said. “We won’t impose upon any more of your time.”

“It’s hardly an imposition, but I’m sure you have engagements to attend.” Marcus bowed slightly again. “I’ll bid you good day.”

They returned his farewell as Faelen looped his arm through Alexander’s. Marcus refused to allow himself to turn and watch them walk away. To do so would reveal too much, to all of them. He did, however, catch a glimpse of their slender forms in a large, silver-framed mirror hanging on the wall. He didn’t allow himself more than the glimpse before continuing on his way at a brisk pace, not stopping again as he wound through the corridors and finally out into the winter chill. He had far too much to do to let himself be distracted, especially by a young royal cousin he had no business observing outside a professional capacity. And no reason to study him so closely in even that way any longer. It shouldn’t have disappointed him.

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Meet the Author

Antonia Aquilante has been making up stories for as long as she can remember, and at the age of twelve, decided she would be a writer when she grew up. After many years and a few career detours, she has returned to that original plan. Her stories have changed over the years, but one thing has remained consistent—they all end in happily ever after.

She has a fondness for travel (and a long list of places she wants to visit and revisit), taking photos, family history, fabulous shoes, baking treats (which she shares with friends and family), and of course, reading. She usually has at least two books started at once and never goes anywhere without her Kindle. Though she is a convert to e-books, she still loves paper books the best, and there are a couple thousand of them residing in her home with her.

Born and raised in New Jersey, Antonia is living there again after years in Washington, DC and North Carolina for school and work. She enjoys being back in the Garden State but admits to being tempted every so often to run away from home and live in Italy.

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architect, bisexual, cat shifter, college, family drama, Fantasy, Gay, LGBT, magic, magic users, men with children, Paranormal, political intrigue, royalty
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Oct 14

New Release Blitz: The Mage Heir by Kathryn Sommerlot (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: The Mage Heir

Series: The Life Siphon, Book Two

Author: Kathryn Sommerlot

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: October 14, 2019

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 97100

Genre: Fantasy, LGBT, fantasy, royalty, magic users, epic mage battles, fearsome desert predators, action/adventure, family drama

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Synopsis

Exiled from Chayd and pursued by Runon, Tatsu’s life twists into something unrecognizable when he escapes with Yudai into the mountains. Despite the growing danger trailing them, the biggest threat lies within Yudai and his voracious magic, a force spiraling outside his control. Their only hope is to head into Joesar in search of a way to contain the magic.

But Joesar’s desert holds perils of its own, and the only answers Tatsu and Yudai find lead them farther into storms. Friend and foe blur until impossible to tell apart, and all the while, the unchecked siphon devours any energy it can find. If Yudai can’t fix what the Runonian mages broke, the siphon could swallow the world, and Tatsu will watch the horror unfold.

No matter how tightly Tatsu’s heart is tied to Yudai’s, and after everything they have sacrificed for freedom, the past might catch up with them, murky and muddled, betrayal lying in Tatsu’s traitorous bloodline.

Excerpt

The Mage Heir
Kathryn Sommerlot © 2019
All Rights Reserved

Prologue
Tatsu woke with such a start he couldn’t breathe.

Heart hammering, he spun up and onto one knee, grabbing his bow and notching the arrow before his thoughts had completely righted. He waited for one breath, and then another, poised and ready to release the arrow into the shadows of the trees. Everything around them loomed threatening, and the pulsing dread shouldn’t have been a surprise—they were fugitives, after all.

His throat closed, pulsing along with his heartbeat. When nothing jumped out from the darkness, at least the idea of the soft sounds belonging to one of the queen’s guards faded. No one had come to drag them both to the prison cells in Aughwor.

“Alesh?” Tatsu said, voice low, and was met with only silence. The low murmuring wasn’t Alesh and Ral either, and knowing they’d stayed in Dradela eased Tatsu’s mind a bit, though his stomach clenched at the thought of the queen guessing their involvement in Yudai’s escape.

With their camp set up in a small clearing, the mountains stood half a day’s walk away, close enough to feel the threat from both Chayd and Runon still breathing down their necks. If the queen hadn’t sent guards after them, then Runon certainly had. The last thing Tatsu wanted was to underestimate Nota—no, his mother, no matter how difficult placing the designation on her was. Underestimating mages had landed them into the whole mess in the first place.

Whatever stirred within the brush faded away—a small rodent foraging across the forest floor, perhaps—and Tatsu dropped his arms back to his sides. He focused on returning his heartbeat to normal rhythms.

He was jumping at shadows, and at such a rate, he’d exhaust himself long before they could hide themselves in the mountain peaks. Willing his body to relax, he settled onto his sleeping roll as the branches overhead waved gently in the night breeze. There was nothing strange about the trees, but Tatsu kept imagining he could hear them sing.

After traveling through so much of the drained land and its twisted aftermath, nature didn’t hold the same comfort it used to.

From his vantage point beneath the tree cover, the moon remained obscured behind branches brimming thick with leaves, but Tatsu guessed half the night had passed, giving them three or four hours before the sun rose. Yudai, sleeping several paces away near the fire pit, was curled into a tight ball on his leather bedroll. Occasionally, he would murmur and turn over, but none of the sounds seemed to be enough to wake him. Small favors, if nothing else.

Tatsu closed his eyes, but unbidden, his mind pulled up a scene he’d spent weeks trying to bury: Zakio’s body crumpled in the crimson-stained snow. He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes hard enough to leave red spots dancing in his vision after he pulled both hands away, but the image persisted even as he resumed staring out at the trees. When he let his head fall against the trunk of the nearest tree, his hair caught in the rough bark.

At some point, he managed to nod off, still in his uncomfortable sprawl against one of the wider trees, and by the time he woke again, the sky had begun to streak with color. Leaning forward, he winced at the pain the movement elicited in his stiff neck. He was preoccupied enough with the tightness to only vaguely notice Yudai stirring across the fire, but the anguished yell a second later startled any residual sleepiness out of him. A split second of spinning showed they were still alone in the clearing.

The relief, if one could call it that, flashed in an achingly short moment.

Yudai sat up with both hands raised in the air, head jerking from side to side. Around him, stretched out like a too-bold shadow, his own sleeping outline had burned brown into the withered grass. The drained blades bent and curled over on themselves, even the ones that weren’t crushed beneath Yudai’s weight. In only a single night, life had been bled dry by Yudai’s wild, uncontrollable magic.

Yudai glowered up at him, eyes glinting with vulnerability.

“No,” he said, and that single word reverberated through Tatsu’s limbs until he feared he could no longer stand. His chest heaved, a pang of copper blood on the back of his tongue.

The life siphon had endured.

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Meet the Author

Kathryn Sommerlot is a coffee addict and craft beer enthusiast with a detailed zombie apocalypse plan. Originally from the cornfields of the American Midwest, she got her master’s degree and moved across the ocean to become a high school teacher in Japan. When she isn’t wrangling teenage brains into critical thinking, she spends her time writing, crocheting, and hiking with her husband. She enjoys LGBTQ fiction, but she is particularly interested in genre fiction that just happens to have LGBTQ protagonists. Find out more at her Website.

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Oct 07

New Release Blitz: Never Knew Until You by L.E. Royal (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Never Knew Until You

Author: L.E. Royal

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: October 7, 2019

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 63900

Genre: Contemporary, LGBT, BDSM, age gap, teaching, over 40, businesswomen, D/s

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Synopsis

After the dissolution of her fourteen-year marriage to her cheating ex-wife, forty-year-old college professor Parker Freeman finds herself adrift. Suddenly middle-aged with so much time wasted, she seeks solstice online where she stumbles upon The Pandora Agency—an organization claiming to help individuals find themselves through submission. Encouraged to be a little wild by her best friend, Parker speaks to the agency and sets up a meeting with a female dominant, Miss Diaz.

Greeted at the door of an impressive Miami townhouse by a young woman, Parker questions her decision as she waits for the girl’s mother. Stunned by the reveal that twenty-four-year old Kristina is in fact the Miss Diaz she has come to meet, she is dragged head first into a new world.

Despite Kristina’s commitment issues and Parker’s shattered confidence, the two enter into a tenuous agreement that sparks Parker’s rediscovery of herself. Both are surprised by their compatibility until they stumble across the line from arrangement into relationship, and Kristina calls their time together to an end. When an unexpected catastrophe throws them back together, old demons are finally brought into the light, and both women must decide if letting go of the past is worth the future they could have together.

Excerpt

Never Knew Until You
L.E. Royal © 2019
All Rights Reserved

“Miss Freeman?”

Parker snapped her head back to her lawyer.

She still had her name, thank God for that. Amanda hadn’t wanted to go through the trouble of changing her medical license after they married, and transitioning from Professor Freeman to Professor Miller had just seemed like too much work.

“Doctor Miller has proposed that you keep the house in South Beach, and she will keep the condo downtown. Is that agreeable?”

Of course she wanted the condo. God, this is happening.

“Fine.”

Her reply was terse, and she tried to look anywhere but at Amanda, perfectly put together in her usual designer slacks and jacket. The resident she had been having an affair with for years—early thirties and gorgeous—waited for her in the hall. Parker felt frumpy, plain in comparison in her blue jeans and politely heeled boots, and forty years old.

She cried on the way home, still lost and furious. Deep down she’d known Amanda was having an affair for some time, but their life had been so comfortably routine, and the loss of that comfort scared her, so she’d adhered to the routine blindly.

Monday through Wednesday Amanda was on call and stayed at the hospital—or so she’d said—Thursday they went out for dinner, Friday Parker finished late after her office hours, and Saturday morning they had sex before Amanda disappeared to a conference, or a clinic, or some other work-related necessity. She’d resurface for her token appearance Sunday night, before it all began again.

Her mind still grappled with it all. How the hell she’d come to accept this as her life. The cheating, the lying, the regularly scheduled sex for God’s sake? She’d been so scared to lose the status quo, the only life she’d known for years, she’d just let it happen, and then she’d lost it all anyway. How is that fair?

The house was empty, which was nothing new. Amanda’s schedule left her alone a lot of the time before, but somehow, Parker noticed it more now.

She kicked off her boots, poured herself a glass of wine, and sat down with her laptop. Miserable, she resigned herself to answering emails.

Somewhere between recommending chapter nine and a review of last month’s lectures for the third time, she drifted out onto the internet. It had become a guilty not-quite-pleasure of late. Browsing divorce forums, searching in the sea of dissatisfied women behind keyboards for something, anything, to make her feel like any of this was going to be okay.

Part of her liked the bitterness of these women, and part of her was left desolate by it. Her brown eyes tracked line after line, post after post, before a thread caught her eye. Moving On and Rebuilding?

She clicked and began to read. Even on these forums among hundreds of others in her situation, she felt alienated, alone. Most of the posters had been scorned by ex-husbands. Very rarely did she find a woman trying to figure things out after the loss of her cheating, lying wife. The responses ranged from funny to sad. She didn’t want to go clothes shopping, her wardrobe was…fine, and although slashing Amanda’s tires had a certain appeal, she knew she would never go through with it.

Frustrated, left empty again, she was about to click off. A response caught her eye and made her pause.

If you are open minded and serious about rediscovering yourself, I highly recommend the Pandora Agency. Through them I transformed my life and my views on my situation and myself.

The link took her to a website, dark and sophisticated with a definite erotic aura. She almost clicked away, but her eyes caught the first line and then she was reading.

Find yourself through submission. A professional and discreet agency, dedicated to connecting searching souls to their perfect counterpart to facilitate personal growth and groundbreaking life change.

Licking her suddenly dry lips, she carried on reading. The site was certainly convincing, and the testimonials were glowing.

Could I do that? Let someone dominate me?

She blushed at the thought. Of course she’d read the books—who doesn’t like a racy story every now and then—but that was honestly as much as she knew about…this. She was surprised to read testimonials from lawyers, CEOs, teachers, people with professional careers, people who sounded more like her than any of the tire-slashers had.

She told herself the agency probably had a line-up of controlling, chauvinistic men to choose from, though the idea was totally at odds with all the comments from women who felt empowered and in control after using it. She didn’t understand it.

Opening a new tab before she could think about it any harder, she did a quick Google search for “the Pandora Agency.” She was surprised to find more well written, articulate, and genuine rave reviews.

Am I seriously considering this?

The shrill ringing of her phone sounded. Jumping guiltily, she knocked it off the coffee table while trying to grab it. She scrambled to pick it back up and swiped to accept the call.

“Hello?”

She sounded breathless, flushed, heat on her chest and her cheeks as she snapped her laptop closed.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble

Meet the Author

L.E. Royal is a British born fiction writer, living in Texas. She enjoys dark but redeemable characters, and twisted themes. Though she is a fan of happy endings, she would describe most of her work as fractured romance. When she is not writing, she is pursuing her dreams with her multi-champion Arabian show horses, or hanging out with her wife at their small ranch/accidental cat sanctuary.

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Oct 07

New Release Blitz: All or Nothing by Riina Y.T. (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: All or Nothing

Author: Riina Y.T.

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: October 7, 2019

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 42200

Genre: Contemporary, LGBT, snowstorm, stranded, college students, slow burn, family, Christmas, New Year’s Eve, Poconos

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Synopsis

When shy sociology student Remington Belotti finds himself stuck on campus two days before Christmas, the handsome and untouchable Carter McCormack unexpectedly offers him a ride home. Having secretly longed for Carter’s attention for over a year, his sudden interest, along with the kind gesture, gives Remmy hope that his attraction might be returned, after all.

On their way to Remy’s hometown, they encounter bad weather and are overtaken by an unforgiving blizzard, leaving them stranded along the highway. The sparks of attraction fly in the safety of Carter’s car, where they share heartfelt confessions along with body heat and gummy bears. When they check into a motel for the night, their electrifying bond deepens, and their shared time might just bring Remmy and Carter the Christmas surprise they could only have dreamed of.

Excerpt

All or Nothing
Riina Y.T. © 2019
All Rights Reserved

Remmy

Picking up my bike keys might have been the most irresponsible decision I ever made. But, I pep talked myself, over the years you collected enough experience so there’s no need to worry. After all, I was confident in my riding skills. I might even make it on time if I left right now. Already packed and dressed in my biking gear, I’d been pacing restlessly around the room for the past twenty minutes or so, going through all the options left.

I couldn’t afford a last minute plane ticket, and the Greyhound was already fully booked. I’d checked, reloading the website repeatedly to make sure it wasn’t a glitch. Not wanting to hitchhike with a total stranger and risk ending up in the middle of nowhere, likely in a million pieces, the only way I’d be able to make it home now was my motorcycle. The current conditions weren’t so bad here in Allentown, but I was fairly certain the roads would be a real pain farther east.

Sure, I could call my parents and explain my situation, and they’d probably do everything humanly possible to arrange a flight for me or something. Maybe send one of my uncles or brothers-in-law to get me. My pride wouldn’t let me dial their numbers though. I was an adult now, independent and all that, as much as one gets to be at college anyway. I’d feel like a failure if I ran to Mom and Dad, asking them to fix this, like I’d let them down. And besides, a big family like ours didn’t have the luxury of wasting money on an expensive plane ticket or an unnecessary roundtrip to Pennsylvania.

Maybe I was being irrational, but I never wanted to be a disappointment to them, and Mom would never forgive me if I missed Christmas with the family. Everyone would be there: my aunts and uncles, cousins and grandparents. If I’m being honest, the holidays were a nightmare for my introverted self, but I never failed to put on my best smiles for Mom and Dad. A couple of hours with my extended family was as exhausting as a twenty-four-hour lecture on criminal justice would likely be, but I’d sit through our dinners—noisy kid cousins and all—any day. There was nothing more important than family in the Bellotti household.

I startled when my phone vibrated between my fingers. Impatiently swiping my thumb across the glaring screen, I prayed the message was from someone who’d read my Facebook posts. Instead, a text from Mom asked if Cody and I were already on our way. I couldn’t tell her the truth or else she’d worry too much. Cody was on the other side of the hall, lying in bed with a high fever and an ear infection. Both of us were from Connecticut, so we’d arranged to carpool for the holidays like we did in freshman year. I never imagined I’d end up stranded on campus.

Ignoring Mom’s message, I opened the Facebook app for the nth time to make sure I hadn’t missed a reply or instant message. I’d asked for a ride, posting to my profile and the group site for my sociology class, hoping someone was still around campus and planning to head east. Nothing. Luck didn’t seem to be on my side.

All right then. I slid my phone into the breast pocket of my leather jacket, pulled on my gloves, shouldered my backpack, and with a last look around the silent room, switched off the lights and stepped into the eerily empty corridor.

The late afternoon air was crisp, and I caught my breath the moment I stepped outside. Snow crunched and squeaked underfoot as I hurried along the sidewalk. A gust of wind whipped wild flurries against my face, and my nose froze right along with the naked winter trees lining the roadside and everything else around me.

As soon as I reached my motorcycle, I set about getting everything ready for the road. The metallic-blue Yamaha was my first; my one and only love. Thunder, I’d named her, because she was loud and fast and had been a birthday present from Dad when I got my license at sixteen. During my last visit home, he’d gotten her a new set of winter tires and some neat accessories. He loved spoiling my bike, and I’m sure I must’ve gotten my love for motorcycling from him, much to Mom’s dismay. She was constantly worried something might happen to either of us, as if cars were much safer. Similar to the fear of flying—irrational but a primal and elemental emotion.

Gusts of icy wind blew wickedly against my face, and I huffed a curse. The cold was already creeping in, despite my layers and layers of winter gear. I’d also exchanged my enormous suitcase for my MOTOTREK backpack, bringing only a handful of my favorite pullovers, jeans, and very few necessities. I still had most of my things back home, so there was no need to overpack.

I’d already set Thunder up for a little ice and snow when the temperatures had begun to drop more rapidly. We hadn’t had much snowfall yet, but looking her over now, I was quite positive she’d ride smoothly. My bike had never let me down before, and I was counting on her to get me safely to New London even if we’d encounter harsher conditions along the way.

She had to make it.

I was about to check on the new heated handles when the sound of heavy footsteps startled me. I turned fast. Cold wind blew in my face, and I jumped at the shadowy figure stepping closer. I looked up into a pair of familiar azure eyes and cursed silently.

Carter McCormack.

Of course, it was Carter Mc–freaking–Cormack. The universe must have it out for me.

He was all dressed up in startling whites and silvers, and fluffy brown fur lined his coat. A cascade of snowflakes danced around his perfect, diamond-shaped face, reluctantly making their way down to earth. Behind him, frosted trees danced to a wild breeze, and with his snow-white and furred coat he reminded me of a handsome ice prince right off the pages of a fairytale book.

“Hey, Remmy,” he said casually and stepped closer out of the shadows of the trees and into the yellow glow of the streetlamp.

“Carter? What are you doing here?” I tipped my head back, blinking snowflakes out of my eyes. Not only did he have a few inches on my five foot ten, he was also broader and stronger. Seriously though. What was he doing here? Carter was the last person I’d expected to run into. I was sure he’d been long gone by now like everybody else. Home. Surrounded by family, Christmas cheer and…his boyfriend. Ugh. I couldn’t stop the jealousy rocking through me every time I thought about him and Travis together.

Carter blinked. Then his eyes widened. “Whoa, Remmy! What happened to your hair?” He lifted a hand as if he was about to reach out but stopped halfway and dropped his arm to his side.

Oh boy. Carter was also the last person I wanted to see me with bright blue-green bangs plastered wildly across my forehead. My cheeks were heating fast, and I swallowed with difficulty. I shouldn’t have been this embarrassed; I was used to people staring at me because of my colorful choices when it came to clothes and accessories, but the result of my latest dye job had surprised even me. The turquoise came out pretty intense.

I shrugged, stammering, “I…Um…You know.” Self-consciously, I brushed my fingers through the thick flop of freshly dyed hair and shoved it out of my eyes, back under the helmet. The attempt was useless; my bangs were long, but not long enough to stay put when I wanted them to.

“Color happened,” I added, hopelessly mumbling a weak explanation when he kept gawking at me with those wide, brilliant blue eyes. I shivered, but it had nothing to do with the cold this time.

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Meet the Author

Riina currently resides in Germany. She spent countless exciting days in the UK and US and lost her heart in Tokyo.

She would be thrilled if one day her stories could brighten someone’s day in the way those beautiful romances always lighten up her dull everyday life. Riina is looking forward to sharing many more stories with the world.

When she doesn’t daydream about boys in love, and isn’t glued to her Kindle, Riina loves to travel the world and explore the unknown.

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Christmas, college students, family, LGBT, New Year's Eve, Poconos, slow burn, snowstorm, stranded
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Oct 07

New Release Blitz: Human Enough by E.S. Yu (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Human Enough

Author: E.S. Yu

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: October 7, 2019

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 52400

Genre: Paranormal, LGBT, romance, paranormal, Ace, Pansexual, Autism, Crime, Alt Universe, law enforcement, vampires, friends to lovers, interracial

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Synopsis

When Noah Lau joined the Vampire Hunters Association, seeking justice for his parents’ deaths, he didn’t anticipate ending up imprisoned in the house of the vampire he was supposed to kill—and he definitely didn’t anticipate falling for that vampire’s lover.

Six months later, Noah’s life has gotten significantly more complicated. On top of being autistic in a world that doesn’t try to understand him, he still hunts vampires for a living…while dating a vampire himself. Awkward.

When one of Jordan’s vampire friends goes missing and Noah’s new boss at the VHA becomes suspicious about some of his recent cases, what starts off as a routine paperwork check soon leads Noah to a sinister conspiracy. As he investigates, he and Jordan get sucked into a deadly web of intrigue that will test the limits of their relationship.

Excerpt

Human Enough
E.S. Yu © 2019
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
As a vampire hunter, Noah was used to his plans going south in the worst possible ways. This op, however, was currently vying for one of the worst—by annoying him out of his goddamned mind.

On paper, it had sounded simple: a vampire had been responsible for some blood-drained corpses, probably a newly turned one based on how messy the crime scenes were, and Noah’s squad had been assigned to take care of the problem. They were in the unusual situation of being down one member while waiting for their new squad leader to arrive, but the op should’ve been easily doable for a three-person team. According to their intel, the vampire always left his suburban house after sunset to feed. Except Noah was still sitting in a backyard tree five hours after sunset, watching the vampire’s immobile heat signature through the second-floor window. His fingers were going numb in the cold autumn night, the colors from his infrared binoculars had practically been seared into his retinas, and he swore he was going to become part of the tree if he sat there for much longer.

He finally got Casey O’Donnell to cover for him—which Casey only agreed to after making some snide comments—while he texted Jordan.

Sorry, can’t make it to the movie tonight. Hunt taking longer than expected.

And, after debating with himself as to whether a smiley face was too much, he finally added, L.

Jordan texted back quickly: No worries. Be safe!!

It was the third time he had to cancel plans with Jordan in two weeks, and it was making him cranky.

“Who were you texting?” Casey asked, again, from his perch on the opposite side of the tree.

“Someone,” said Noah for the third time.

Casey was eyeing him in a way that made Noah uncomfortable. “That’s the third time you’ve texted during a stakeout.”

Jesus, he’s keeping track? Noah put his phone away. “What, like you’ve never played Candy Crush on your phone during a stakeout?”

Casey raised an eyebrow. “I thought not breaking rules was your thing. Along with not being able to lie and stuff.”

And there it is. Noah suppressed the urge to snort. Casey was half right…but he was also half wrong, as usual. While Noah generally preferred not to stir up trouble, he was perfectly capable of breaking rules and lying through his teeth if he thought it was for the “greater good,” however he defined that. Which, in this case, meant passing on status updates so Jordan wouldn’t be up all night worrying.

Noah raised the infrared binoculars to his eyes, turning the night back into neon colors, and scanned the second-floor bedroom again. Still no movement. He turned his comm back on. “Guys, the vamp might as well be asleep. We should move.”

“No can do, Lau,” said Ava Lopez through the comm. She was currently keeping watch at the front of the house. “He might use the human as a hostage if he smells us.”

That was the problem, the reason why they’d been stuck out there for hours, waiting for the vampire to leave. Through his infrared binoculars, Noah could clearly see the human’s heat signature in the same room as the vampire’s dimmer one. There were any number of reasons why a human might be living with a vampire, but standard hunter protocol was to assume that a vampire valued human lives less than their own.

But what if that might not be true? an annoying voice asked in the back of Noah’s mind.

His jaw tightened. He couldn’t say that for sure, and human safety always had to come first, he reminded himself. Besides, the vampire had already crossed the line by killing people.

“Well, intel has clearly been faulty so far, so how much longer are we going to wait out here?” he groused. He hated faulty intel. At best, it scrambled their carefully created plans and forced them to improvise; at worst, it cost lives. Also, right now it was ruining the romantic movie night he’d planned.

There was silence at the other end as Ava thought. At least, Noah hoped she was thinking of a plan and not a rebuttal as to why they should sit and wait for another five hours.

“Okay,” she finally said. “I’m thinking doorbell strategy. Anyone have any objections?”

“No, ma’am,” Casey drawled.

The doorbell strategy was slightly risky for a three-person team. If they flushed the vampire out, they’d usually need someone to cover every side of the house. Noah couldn’t think of any other feasible, safe alternative, though.

“All right,” Ava said. “Move out.”

Noah continued watching the window through the infrared binoculars. After a few minutes, the human heat signature left his view.

“The human’s answering the door,” Noah said over the comm.

“Copy that,” said Casey. His boots scraped against bark as he climbed down from the tree. “What’s the status on the vamp?”

“He hasn’t moved,” Noah observed.

The muted sounds of Ava’s conversation with the house’s human inhabitant sounded over the comm. Then, Ava said, “I’m going inside to flush him out. Be prepared.”

Noah put his binoculars away and clambered down from the tree. “I’m at the south window,” he said. Although the bedroom was on the second floor, vampires could survive jumping to the ground from that height with no problem.

“Got the west window covered,” Casey added.

Noah readied his rifle. One minute passed. Then, another. Ava shouted at the vampire, her voice carrying through the comm a split second before gunshots followed.

Ava swore. “Missed him!”

Noah heard the sound of a window shattering—at the unguarded front of the house.

“He’s escaping through the front!” he yelled. He ditched his rifle and drew his handgun from its holster as he bolted around the side of the house, toward the sound of breaking glass.

He raised his gun and shot as the vampire fell, but the vampire hit the ground, rolled to his feet, and immediately grabbed the human woman who’d been standing in the front yard, yanking her against him. She hadn’t moved away from the house the way Ava had instructed her to. Noah’s heart sank.

Oh, crap.

This was not the “easy, quick hunt and then go home” he’d been hoping for.

Casey came around the other side of the house behind the vampire. “Don’t shoot,” Noah said into the comm. “There’s a hostage in front of him.”

“Make one move, and the human goes!” the vampire shouted, keeping the woman in front of him as he turned to face Noah. The woman’s eyes were wide with fear.

Noah hesitated, his finger perched on the trigger. His marksmanship was solid, but he still didn’t want to risk shooting the woman. Ava was still in the house, judging by the way the vampire glanced through the open doorway, but her options were also limited.

“You don’t have to do this,” Noah said, and then nearly cringed when he realized he was reciting a line from basically every action movie ever.

The vampire bared his fangs next to the woman’s neck. “I wouldn’t have to if you hunters just left me alone!”

Noah’s grip tightened on his gun. “You know what the punishment is for killing humans. You brought this on yourself.”

The vampire’s eyes narrowed. “You’d never under—”

He suddenly cried out, crumpling to his knees. The woman scrambled away from him, and Noah took the shot, nailing him in the chest. He crept closer, making sure to shoot the vampire in the heart several more times. The vampire didn’t move after that.

“Death confirmed,” Noah said into the comm. He glanced through the doorway into the house, to where Ava had knelt in the front hall to shoot the vampire in the knees. “Thanks.”

Ava nodded at him as she got up. “No problem.”

Casey came over to join them and whistled. “Shooting out his kneecaps? Impressive.”

“Thanks, O’Donnell,” said Ava.

“And nice job for finishing him off and keeping him distracted, Lau,” said Casey. “But you know there’s no point in reasoning with vampires, right?”

Noah didn’t reply to that except to shrug. He went to grab the body bag from their van.

He and Casey stuffed the corpse into the bag—while Casey moaned and groaned about being on cleanup duty, as always—while Ava made sure the woman was okay. She reported back to them that the woman was in shock, so after Noah and Casey lugged the bag and the rest of their gear back to the van, they dropped the woman off at a hospital. Noah hoped she would be okay.

“Whew,” said Ava, once they’d dumped off the body for disposal and driven back to headquarters. “I don’t know about you guys, but I could really use a drink. Anyone else up for a bar crawl?”

“Can’t,” Noah said immediately. “Sorry. It’s pretty late, and I have to get back home. Maybe next time, though,” he added, to be polite.

“What’s the matter, Lau?” Ava teased. “Got a hot date?”

Before Noah could answer, Casey beat him to the punch. “It’s his mysterious girlfriend he won’t let anyone meet. What’s her name again?”

“Jordan. And for the last time, she’s shy and private and faints at the mention of blood,” said Noah, the practiced lies rolling smoothly off his tongue. “Can’t anyone keep their work life and private life separate anymore?”

“Aw, c’mon!” Casey nudged him. “Can’t you at least show us a picture?”

Noah rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t want to give you any ideas, O’Donnell.”

He said goodbye to his squad mates before they could ask him any more questions and drove back to his apartment. Damn, it was late. Wearily, he trudged up to his unit, unlocked his door, and slipped inside.

He made his way into the bathroom, stripped his clothes off, and stepped into the shower, sighing as the warm water hit his tired muscles. He closed his eyes, trying to let his mind drift away from work. A few minutes later, the shower curtain slid aside with a rustle and cool arms circled his waist.

“Long day at the office?” a soft, low voice murmured against his ear.

Noah smiled and leaned back. “Very long. Glad to be home at last.”

“Me too.”

Noah turned around to look at the hazel-eyed man with golden-brown hair and pale skin—a touch too pale—behind him.

“Hey, Jordan,” he said, before leaning forward and kissing his boyfriend under the shower spray.

Noah always felt somewhat bad for lying about his “girlfriend” to his coworkers. It wasn’t that he was afraid of people knowing he was dating a guy; he just didn’t want anyone getting too interested in his dating life and finding out he was dating a vampire.

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Meet the Author

E.S. Yu is a writer of speculative fiction and a geek who lives for video games, superhero comics, and all things sci-fi/fantasy. E.S. is a recovering law school graduate who lives off green tea and dreams of writing full-time; for now, she follows wherever her muse takes her to places sometimes dark, sometimes quirky, but always hopeful.

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ace, alt universe, Autism, crime, friends-to-lovers, Interracial, law enforcement, LGBT, Pansexual, Paranormal, Romance, Vampires
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Oct 04

Book Blitz: All for Wesley by Jocelynn Drake & Rinda Elliott (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: All for Wesley

Series: Pineapple Grove #2

Author: Jocelynn Drake & Rinda Elliott

Publisher: Drake and Elliott Publishing LLC

Release Date: October 4, 2019

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 67,000

Genre: Romance

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Synopsis

A B&B owner takes on a posh hotel developer in this enemies-to-lovers story with plenty of South Florida heat.

The grudge match is set to get nasty.

Wesley and Nathan are willing to pull out all the stops to achieve their dreams.

They just never expected the heat between them to carry over to the bedroom.

After one reckless night burning up the sheets, Wes and Nathan can’t stay away from each other.

But is there any hope of them having their happily ever after when it means someone has to give up his dream?

All For Wesley is a standalone enemies-to-lovers MM romance with sneaking, spying, family troubles, helpful movie stars, one poorly timed hurricane, and all the feels.

Excerpt

Closing his eyes for a moment, Wesley mentally chastised himself. This whole plan had been insane. Following Nathan into the gym only to trap himself? Freaking brilliant. At least he knew if the B and B thing didn’t work out, his future was not in private investigation.

Wesley hid among the lockers for what felt like a long time, listening to some low conversations, though none were Nathan’s voice. A couple of lockers slammed shut, and it sounded like people were heading for the shower. When it grew quiet, Wesley released the breath he’d been holding for far too long. He sneaked out from the last row of lockers, aiming to make a beeline straight to the exit and back to Wilton Cottage.

Except Nathan was waiting for him, leaning against the lockers.

In a towel.

They were alone in the locker room.

“You positively suck at being inconspicuous, do you know that? That bright shirt can be seen a mile away.” Nathan chuckled and crossed his arms over his wide, bare chest.

The towel slipped an inch lower, and all Wesley could do was stare at the light-brown happy trail below his navel and wonder how it would feel under his tongue. He could drop to his knees and tug that towel off, wouldn’t take much to dislodge it…

“Blake!”

He blinked up to find Nathan’s eyes narrowed as he stared at him. Heat crept up his neck, and he worked to remember why he was there. Hell, he could barely remember his name right then. His gaze slipped down that muscular chest again. He couldn’t help himself. Damn, but Nathan Randall was built. A lot more than he’d expected. Those damn suits hid all the good stuff.

“Are you even capable of conversation right now?”

“Hmm?” Had that towel moved when his abs contracted?

The soft laugh that met his ears did little to pull him out of his stupor. Had his mouth been dry before? Because now it was watering something fierce.

Nathan stepped closer and lifted his chin with warm fingers. “There’s an…interesting scent coming from you.”

That slammed Wesley right back down to earth. “I stepped in dog shit.” The humor of the situation got to him all of a sudden and he snorted.

Nathan grinned and Wesley was stunned at how such a little thing could transform Nathan’s entire demeanor. Had he really never seen Nathan smile at him? Well, he was sure he had, but there had always been a look of calculation in his eyes. Like he hadn’t really felt the warm emotion that went with the smile. He’d only done it to put Wesley at ease. But this time, the grin was matched with amusement in his eyes and those adorable little crinkles that stretched out from the corners. “It’s not a pleasant smell,” Nathan murmured.

“I promise, I usually smell better.”

“I’m aware.”

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Meet the Authors

Jocelynn Drake and Rinda Elliott have teamed up to combine their evil genius to create intense gay romantic suspense stories that have car chases, shoot outs, explosions, scorching hot love scenes, and tender, tear-jerking moments. Their first joint books are in the Unbreakable Bonds series.

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Sep 30

New Release Blitz: Love on the Hudson by KD Fisher (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Love on the Hudson

Author: KD Fisher

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: September 30, 2019

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 98400

Genre: Contemporary, LGBT, contemporary, friends to lovers, second chance love, coming out, artist, farmer, family drama, hurt/comfort, in the closet, coming out

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Synopsis

Art historian David Webster left his childhood home of Saugerties, New York ten years ago and hasn’t looked back. Intelligent, successful, and proud of his sexuality, David has built a comfortable, if lonely, life in Chicago. But when he learns his father has suffered a debilitating stroke, he decides to leave his prestigious museum job and move home to care for his dad. Until now David has never questioned his devotion to academic and professional success. Suddenly he’s forced to confront and reevaluate his desires, chief among them, his former best friend Nick.

Nick Patras has spent his entire life trying to be the perfect Greek son. From devoting himself to football, to forgoing an athletic scholarship to work at his family’s diner, to denying his sexuality and getting married to his high school sweetheart, Nick got used to putting his family’s dreams ahead of his own. The facade shattered, however, when Nick divorced his wife and left the family business to follow his dream of starting an organic farm. Finally content with the life he’s built for himself, Nick is still haunted by the mistake that ended his friendship with David a decade earlier.

When David and Nick reunite their old feelings are undeniable, but can David trust Nick with his heart a second time around? As David embarks on a new career as an artist, he must decide whether or not Nick fits into this composition.

Excerpt

Love on the Hudson
K.D. Fisher © 2019
All Rights Reserved

I step onto the salt-white sidewalk and into a stream of traffic noise. Rush hour commuters pour their anger into their car horns, laying on them for what feels like minutes at a time. The familiar scents of bus exhaust, cigarette smoke, and the caramel-sweet fragrance of roasted nuts from the stand on the corner overpower the rich steam rising from the to-go cup of coffee in my hands. It’s cold. I know March in Chicago is always cold, really still winter, but the bite of the wind makes me edgy. I find myself constantly checking the weather forecast the moment I wake up, hoping I can stow away my heavy, unattractive coat for the season.

I rush toward the museum, knowing I’ll be early for my meeting but hurrying nonetheless. As I walk, I mentally go over the presentation I’d practiced endlessly the night before. We can work with Chicago Public Schools to widen the reach of the museum and diversify visitorship. I’ve already talked to the assistant superintendent, and she loved the idea, saying the partnership would help supplement the arts programs that got cut a few years ago when the state couldn’t agree on a budget. I’m lost in thought, half hoping I’m not practicing my talking points aloud, when I realize I’m already standing at the bottom of the lion-flanked steps of the museum. It bothers me that I do this—zone out and navigate the streets on autopilot. I chastise myself for taking the aesthetics of the city for granted. On any given day I pass the spaceship-like hulking form of the Thompson Center without batting an eye. I breeze by major public artworks by Picasso and Miró. I whisk past Burnham and Sullivan buildings with my eyes trained on the ground.

When I first moved to Chicago for undergrad, I was fascinated by the city. Everything was vibrant and engaging, unlike Saugerties, the small town where I’d grown up. Every chance I had I hopped on the bus, pretentious leather sketchbook in hand, and went north from my school’s South Side campus to the center of the city. I took silly architecture boat tours filled with tourists who largely tuned out the information pouring from the scratchy PA system as the boat chugged through the dingy river. Spending hours on Google Maps, I planned walking tours of Oak Park for myself, enjoying the lull of the suburban streets as I basked in the gorgeous lines and thoughtful details of the Frank Lloyd Wright houses.

Again I’m lost in thought because I’m now enveloped in the quiet of my office, coffee still in hand, coat and scarf still on, but seated behind my desk. Shaking my head, I set my coffee down and busy myself with the tasks of a Monday morning. Check my voicemail, start my computer, glance at the Post-it-covered Stendig calendar tacked to my wall. As I’m about to reread my notes for the thousandth time since I woke up, my desk phone rings and the small light for the main museum reception line blinks red.

I pick it up on the second ring, running my fingers through my hair as I speak. “This is David Webster.” I always lower my voice when fielding an unexpected call. Although I tell myself it’s to sound professional, I’m a bit self-conscious about the soft, lilting cadence of my words.

A timid female voice responds. “Uh, hi, Mr. Webster? I have a call for you from a, uh, hospital. The nurse said she tried your cell but…” The woman’s voice trails off, growing somewhat hoarse.

“Oh, sure. Okay. You can go ahead and put her through.” The tremble in my voice does not surprise me. My heart races and my fingers shake as I reach for my bag to retrieve my cell phone.

“Mr. Webster?” My name is tinged with the upstate New York accent of my youth.

“Speaking,” I squeak out. “What’s going on?” I know it’s something with my dad. Or fuck, could it be Anna? There’s a sickening swooping sensation in my stomach. Did something happen to Nick? Unbidden, his intense gray gaze appears in my mind’s eye. I shake my head to clear the thought. No one would call me about him.

“You’re listed as next of kin for Dr. Richard Webster. You are his son, correct?”

“Yeah. Yes. Is he okay?” I hold down the button on the side to start up my phone. I always keep it off between the hours of midnight and seven to preserve my sanity and mitigate my technology addiction. It had been my New Year’s resolution. Clearly this is not a good choice when your elderly father who lives alone hundreds of miles away is hospitalized.

“Yes, sir. Your father’s condition is stable. We were unable to reach you on your primary contact number. He suffered an ischemic stroke. We have him on tPA and he’s resting in the ICU. We’ll keep him for a few nights for monitoring and scans. Then we can start talking about rehab. A…” She pauses and I hear a few mouse clicks over the phone. “James Webster is with him now.”

Jimmy must have called me. Quickly I unlock my phone to see a barrage of texts and missed calls from my uncle’s number, as well as three voicemails from an 845 area code, very likely the hospital’s number. I scan through Jimmy’s increasingly panicked then calm texts without responding to the nurse.

“Mr. Webster?” she asks, a note of irritation creeping into her voice.

I tear my eyes away from my phone screen. My hands clench white and my arms are suddenly insanely heavy. My torso is hollow. “Yes. Sorry. I’m in Chicago. Like, I live in Chicago so I need to fly up. But he’s okay, right?”

Line two rings on my desk phone—startling me—and I know it means the superintendent has arrived. My head spins and I lean forward, scrunching into myself and trying to resist the urge to collapse even though I’m sitting. A few moments later I have wrapped up my conversation with the nurse and managed to write down the relevant information on the back of a deli receipt on my desk. I’m about to return one of Jimmy’s dozen calls when Marc blusters into my office, eyes wild.

“Uh, David?” his voice is shrill, and it’s one of the first times I have ever seen him look so irritated.

“I know. She’s here, right?”

“Yes!” he hisses, running his slender fingers through his perfectly messy dark hair. I notice he’s even wearing a tie today. A nice touch for the meeting, I think, and I smile to myself.

“My dad had a stroke,” I say softly. Repeating the information I was told makes my stomach twist sharply and a wave of nausea rolls over me.

The irritation drains from Marc’s face and he quickly crosses over to my desk. “Shit. David, when? Why didn’t you call me?” His groomed eyebrows are raised, earnest.

“I just got the call here… You know, my phone was off.”

Marc groans. “You and your stupid phone thing. I knew it was going to be a problem someday.” He claps a hand over his mouth. “And I’m nagging you right after you found out your dad’s sick.” He paces my small office, from the wall plastered with my calendar and some framed landscapes to the window overlooking Millennium Park. “Okay. Okay. Okay. Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll take care of the meeting. Call, well normally I would say call me…but Vic can handle booking you a flight to New York. You should be able to take leave for this.” He runs his fingers over his lips, leaning back against the window. I know his mind is vibrating at its highest frequency. “Lane and Nisa and I can handle everything for a few days or whatever you need. Go, David.”

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Meet the Author

KD Fisher is a queer New England-based writer of authentic, heartfelt LGBTQ+ narratives. KD grew up all over the United States, bouncing from North Carolina to Hawaiʻi to Illinois, and finally settling in Maine where she spends far too much time at the beach.

When KD isn’t writing, she can usually be found hiking with her overly enthusiastic dog, obsessing over plants, or cooking elaborate meals. She loves classic country, perfectly ripe tomatoes, and falling asleep in the sun.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest

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Sep 23

New Release Blitz: Out of the Ashes by M.J. James (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Out of the Ashes

Author: M.J. James

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: September 23, 2019

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 73600

Genre: Contemporary, LGBT, suspense, thriller, romance, mystery, contemporary, firemen, hurt comfort, revenge

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Synopsis

Alex Porter’s life goes up in flames the night his tiny bookstore catches fire. Powerless to stop it, he can do nothing but stand by and watch as the only thing he’s ever loved is taken from him.

Fire sergeant Matt Fields is ordered to Cliffside, Maine by the privileged Porter family, which doesn’t mix well with his quick temper, to investigate exactly what happened. When he meets Alex, he can almost taste the sexual tension hanging between them and fights to focus on his job to find out what started the blaze.

Once Matt discovers arson, a simple case of accidental fire becomes much more dangerous, and Alex’s life is suddenly at risk. Someone is out to get him…and Matt wants to know who. As he digs deeper to find the person who torched the shop, he and Alex finally give in to the wild heat between them. From hot as hell phone sex to even hotter face-to-face encounters, they grow closer together as the case spins out of control.

In the end, their newfound love will be put to the test when secrets come to light and arson turns to murder.

Excerpt

Black, billowing smoke splattered the night sky like paint on a canvas long before Alex reached the tiny bookstore he owned and loved more than anything. The glow of streetlamps skittered over the car’s windshield as he sped through the quiet streets of Cliffside, Maine, the idyllic town he called home. Their measured illumination tossed shadows across the interior of his sedan. He zipped past darkened storefronts and empty parking lots, praying he wouldn’t get pulled over because he didn’t have time to try to haggle his way out of a ticket. His life teetered on the edge, and he was desperate to stop the fall.

He had worked tirelessly to turn the shop into something he could be proud of, and now all his efforts were going up in flames. Even as a little boy he had dreamed of having his own business, and his intense love of the written word was the perfect motivation. For almost three years, it was his lifeline. Now, after a midnight phone call from the local police, said lifeline would be forever severed… He couldn’t even comprehend what was happening.

“No, no, no…” His protests faded away when he turned onto Shemwood Drive. The historic brownstone was blazing red-hot, thick black smoke pluming into the night-time sky. “NO!” He slammed the silver sedan into Park and leapt from the car, leaving the engine running and the headlights on. Smoke swirled in the light of their beams like venomous snakes on the prowl as he raced across the street toward the fire, heat blasting him in the face with every inch closer he got. He winced but charged forward.

“Stay back!” A firefighter approached as he headed for the roaring blaze. He stared at her, wide-eyed, the large shield attached to her helmet teetering above her head, the orange glow of flames reflecting off the shiny surface.

“This is my store!” he yelled at the petite blonde woman now standing between him and the fire. She gripped his arm like a vise when he tried to sidestep her, and he snatched free. “Let me go.”

“I don’t care. You’re not going in there.” She yelled to be heard over the roar of the inferno churning behind them. Alex’s determination faltered between the rumble and heat of the fire and the woman blocking him. “What the hell are you gonna do, anyway?”

“I…” What was he going to do, put out the fire with his bare hands?

“Step back!” She pushed against his chest and he skittered backward. She then turned her attention to the other firefighters manhandling a hose clearly losing the battle as it spewed water on the Book Nook.

“My God.” Alex ran his hands through his hair, his emotions like a caged animal, trying to claw their way out. Frustration and anger swirled among the panic settling into his chest and he gritted his teeth to keep from losing control. This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t. He tugged at the tie around his neck to try to ease the suffocating feeling in his throat and undid the top button of his shirt. He sucked in a deep breath and held his breath until his chest began to ache and throb before forcing all the air out, letting some of the dread twisting his stomach go with it. He had spent the majority of the night at his shop, hosting a pretty successful author signing and then cleaning up afterward, and all he had wanted to do was go home and relax. One phone call and his plan was literally up in smoke.

He wanted to scream, hit something, shatter into a million pieces right there in the street because everything was gone.

All those books, the artwork created by kids in the neighborhood during Saturday story times… Everything was burning.

His life was gone.

The pain of the realization swept over Alex like dense, choking fog, consuming him, turning him inside out. He sat on the curb across the street from his store, a thick huddle of sightseers from the bar on the corner now crowded together behind him, ogling the scene like vultures over roadkill. He could hear their “ohs” and “my Gods” and the words were making him sick. Sick because there was nothing he could do to stop them. Stop their taunting and awe and shock. He couldn’t stop any of it. The fire, the onlookers, the pity pulsing all around him; he could do nothing.

Nothing but stand there and watch as the life he had worked so hard to build turned to ashes right before his eyes.

After a long night of standing powerless on the sidelines while his life burned, Alex finally gave up and headed home—even though he wanted to do the exact opposite. He wanted to stay. Fix things. Turn his life upright again. How could he just walk away when the only thing important to him was gone? But he did. He left. Went home. He was a zombie as he peeled off his smoke-drenched clothes and sat naked in his living room, burying his erratic emotions in more than a few glasses of vodka and cranberry. Once his mind was good and chemically altered, he stumbled to his bedroom at the back of the house and collapsed into bed, falling asleep just as daylight began to peek through the curtains. He woke an hour later to incessant pounding on his front door and dragged himself out of bed, his head pounding like a thousand drums. He snagged a pair of boxers from the floor and slipped them on as he rubbed sleep from his eyes and wound his way through the house, using walls and furniture to stay upright.

“Yeah?” Alex swung the door open wide, the low sun blasting his face like pepper spray, almost blinding him. He lifted a hand to shield his eyes and fought to focus. “Oh, Sorry. Good morning, officers.”

Two stern-faced uniforms stared back at him, both with their legs shoulder-width apart and backs awkwardly straight in an overly masculine TV cop fashion. Alex wanted to laugh at how ridiculous they looked but held back. Their presence didn’t feel like a joke. Police at your door first thing in the morning didn’t typically scream social call.

“Mr. Porter?” The woman spoke first, her tone more a statement than a question.

“That’s me. Are you here about the fire?”

“We are, sir. Could you come down to the station, please? Answer a few questions for us?”

“Questions?” Alex’s gut lurched. “What questions?”

“Standard in this type of thing, sir. We need to find out what happened last night.”

“Yes, you do. But I don’t see why you need to question me. I wasn’t even there.”

“Then you’ll have nothing to worry about.” The woman shifted on her feet, and Alex noticed her grip tighten on the Glock at her side.

“Wait a minute…do I need a lawyer?” His stomach turned, like at any second his already obliterated life was about to get much, much worse.

“Do you have a reason to need a lawyer, Mr. Porter?” The male officer spoke this time, pulling Alex’s attention from the agitated woman. The man was good-looking, what some might even call hot, but all Alex could see was the accusation hidden beneath his words.

“Sure sounds like I might.” Every nerve in Alex’s body was screaming at him, putting him on edge. He had seen enough true crime television and episodes of Law and Order: SVU to know how things like this typically played out.

“Well that’s certainly up to you,” the male officer said. “Either way, we need you to come with us.”

He didn’t want to—he wanted to slam the door in their faces and crawl back into bed and forget the last twelve hours even happened—but Alex knew he had no choice. If he didn’t go with them willingly, they would just make him. His neighbors would see him dragged off in cuffs and the entire town would know what happened before he even arrived at the station. He ran a hand through his hair and huffed.

“Fine,” he said, stepping out of the doorway and onto the porch. A cold northern wind swept around them, but Alex was too upset to care.

“Um, sir?” The female officer gestured toward him, and Alex stopped.

He lowered his hand from above his eyes as he moved to the side and, to block the sun, stepped into the shadow cast by one of the large columns flanking the porch steps. “Yes?”

She glanced over at her partner who nodded to Alex’s lower half. “You might wanna get dressed.”

Though he had slipped them on only a minute ago, Alex had forgotten he had answered the door in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs.

He darted back inside and stood behind the door. “I think I’ll need a minute.” Both officers nodded as he stepped away from the door and headed back to his bedroom. He was wide awake now, embarrassment and fear jolting his mind. He got dressed in record time, throwing on some jeans, a T-shirt, and a pair of old sneakers while trying not to dwell on what would no doubt happen once he got to the police station. How in the world was any of this happening?

First, he lost his store, and now…what, he was about to be grilled by the police? Maybe even arrested? No, the officers standing at his door didn’t come right out and admit anything, but Alex knew they suspected him. Even the simplest mind would only take a second to realize it made sense to think he burned down his own place, but that didn’t help quell his uneasiness. By the time he locked the house and crammed into the back of the police cruiser, his hangover had moved from his head to his stomach, and he had to fight to keep from throwing up.

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Meet the Author

I’ve always wanted to be a writer (like most writers, I’m sure) but not until the last few years have I taken it seriously. I was always told growing up that I had to get a job and “earn my keep,” so I pushed my dream of writing a book to the back of my mind and entered the workforce. Fast-forward many, many years and here I am, trying to make a go at it.

I stumbled across Blogger in 2010 and my world of writing exploded. I have met (via the web) so many amazing writers and industry professionals and book bloggers that have passed on their wisdom and experience and successes and failures. So many, in fact, that I have no excuse to sit down and write out the stories living in my head. Which is what I’m now attempting to do.

I enjoy reading more than most other things (well, except maybe for writing. And TV. No way am I giving up my TV) . OUT OF THE ASHES is my first foray into the world of adult m/m and I am loving it!

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Sep 23

New Release Blitz: Complex Dimensions by Brenda Murphy (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Complex Dimensions

Series: A Rowan House Novel

Author: Brenda Murphy

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: September 23, 2019

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 65100

Genre: Contemporary, LGBT, Contemporary, BDSM, lesbian, interracial, ex-convict, chauffeur, D/s, butch, sex toys

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Synopsis

Sick of living in her parent’s basement and encountering her ex-girlfriend on a regular basis, former graduate student Veronica Fletcher signs on to manage the stable for Rowan House, Skye’s most exclusive resort for women. After arriving at Rowan house Veronica’s vow to remain celibate is tested when she meets Millie Reid.

Sexy, sweet, and funny, Millie is the woman of Veronica’s dreams. Or is she? When Millie’s past threatens their future together, Veronica is faced with a choice she doesn’t want to make. The butterfly effect has never been more personal.

Excerpt

Veronica followed her mom through the grocery, navigating the phalanx of Saturday afternoon shoppers. Her thoughts wandered as she trailed behind her mother as she maneuvered their overloaded cart around people staring at the overcrowded shelves, children straying from their parents, and the occasional mobility scooter.

“Ronnie, would you go back and pick up another can of tomato paste? I need two for my sauce. I’m so out of step since they rearranged the store. I don’t understand why…”

Not ready to listen to her mom go on about the changes in the store layout for what must be the hundredth time since she had been released, Veronica interrupted her. “Relax, Mom, I got it.”

She turned and jogged back two aisles and caught sight of a familiar face. Dee stood at the far end of the aisle, her arm draped around the shoulders of Veronica’s ex-friend, Paige. A toddler, her round face and dark brown eyes so much like Dee’s she could have been a clone, sat in the basket of the cart in front of them. Paige pressed a kiss to Dee’s cheek.

Say hello. Don’t act invisible. Get over yourself. So, she’s here with Paige and their baby. Should be me. Should have been us. She looked away and gathered herself. Say something. Be a grown-up. Congratulate them. She looks happy.

Veronica walked down the aisle toward the women, working hard to keep a smile plastered on her face. She lifted her hand in greeting. Dee glanced up and made brief eye contact before a frown crossed her face. She turned her head away from Veronica. Paige looked past Dee and shot Veronica a challenging glare before she pushed their shopping cart briskly away. Fuck. No mistaking the message. She’s moved on. Let it go. She stopped and shoved her hands in her pockets to keep from balling them into fists. She turned away, walked to the main aisle, and followed the overhead labels until she reached the canned vegetable aisle.

She stood in the center of the aisle and groaned inwardly as she studied the shelves. Why do they need twelve different kinds of paste? Damn it. Where the hell is the Bella tomato paste? Mom will flip if it’s not the right brand.

A short woman dressed in a bright red T-shirt and jeans stepped up on the bottom shelf of the section. She extended her arm, her fingers straining shy of the can of tomato sauce she was trying to reach.

Veronica stepped closer. “Hey, let me…” The shelf rocked and teetered. The sharp sound of metal scraping made the hairs on Veronica’s arm stand up as the shelf tilted toward the woman.

“Watch out!” Veronica grabbed the woman around the waist and tugged her out of the way as the entire section of heavy metal shelving crashed to the floor. Cans of vegetables slid off the shelves and filled the aisle. A dented can of stewed tomatoes rolled past her shoe as cans continued to randomly slide from the twisted metal shelves.

“Are you okay?” Veronica let go of the woman’s waist. Other shoppers crowded around them, drawn by the noise.

A store employee arrived. Red faced and wheezing, he pointed to the avalanche of cans. “Is anyone under there?”

“No. I don’t think so.” Veronica leaned away from the stale smell of cigarettes and sweat wafting from the employee.

The woman stared at Veronica, her eyes wide. “You…I would have been under there. I would have…” Her cheeks grew pink. “Thank you.” She ducked her head, pushed through the crowd, and fled.

More store employees showed up and blocked the aisle with warning signs and yellow tape. The crowd filtered away. Veronica stepped back from the chaos.

The dull edge of the can she was still holding dug into her palm. What if my mom hadn’t needed another can of tomato paste? What if Dee had wanted to chat? What if I hadn’t noticed the shelf shift? We both would’ve been under there. A minute. A second. So much can change in a moment. Butterfly effect. Chaos Theory on display.

“Ronnie?” Her mother’s hand squeezed her arm. She turned and stared down the aisle, her lips pressed together in a thin line. “Good Lord, look at that. You’d have been crushed.”

Veronica held up the can in her hand and grinned at her mom. “Got the tomato paste.”

Her mother quirked her mouth, “All right, joker, let’s get the rest of the groceries before anything else falls down.”

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Meet the Author

Brenda Murphy writes short fiction and novels. She loves tattoos and sideshows, and yes, those are her monkeys. When she is not swilling gallons of hot tea and writing, she wrangles two kids, two dogs, and one unrepentant parrot. She writes about life, books, and writing on her blog Writing While Distracted.

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Sep 23

New Release Blitz: TAD by M.D. Neu (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: T.A.D

Author: M.D. Neu

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: September 23, 2019

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 53100

Genre: Paranormal, LGBT, bisexual, angels, fantasy, Fate, 9/11, tear-jerker, friendship, love, drag queens

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Synopsis

Tad bounces around in time and watches mankind grow and change. He loves humanity and helping when he can. However, his job isn’t conducive to helping people—he’s an Angel of Death.

Doug is a fun-loving drama queen. He’s an amazing drag queen and hairstylist with big dreams, but despite his witty exterior, he has a dark history and is prone to self-destruction.

When Tad pushes the boundaries of his duties too far, his wings are stripped away from him, and he is sent to New York City to live as a human. Lost and alone he ends up meeting Doug, and they start a friendship that shapes them both and may last a lifetime. But nothing is simple when you’re dealing with a former Angel of Death and a Drag Queen. Could these two cause the fabric of our world to collapse or will they manage to keep the future as it should?

Excerpt

Doug glanced up at the big void where the buildings once stood.

How could anyone do that? All those people, and for what? Thank God, no one I know was there. Thank goodness, Garret’s train was running late. Even from across the river, seeing the buildings fall, one minute there, the next not, awful. Not knowing if Garret was alive or dead. The not knowing was awful, and it seemed to last forever. Then getting his call when the phones were back up. It was a relief. Still, the not knowing? Horrible. How do survivors do it?

Doug shuddered. He had to look away before he started to cry again. That day. The world wasn’t the same. How could it be? Would it ever be the same again? He swiped at his eyes, keeping the tears he was trying to hold back from dropping. He caught his reflection in one of the storefront windows and fussed with his spiky blond hair.

One year.

The months right after the attack had been hell for everyone. People from all over the world sent support and offered help. But New York was moving on, as it should. They already had seven different architects offering new designs to fill the empty skyline. Mayor Giuliani was doing everything he could for the city, and there was even talk of him running for president.

Doug checked his flip phone and picked up his pace. He was running late. He shouldn’t have spent the night at Tim’s, but leaving such a sexy guy was no easy task. Not to mention they might have partied too much.

I doubt that is even possible. You can never party too much.

There was a large group of mourners, and he had to step to the side to let them pass. He took a deep cleansing breath, pushing all thoughts from his mind, and started walking again. He rushed past the families and friends heading to Ground Zero. Now he had to hustle to make it to work. He’d gotten lucky no one he was familiar with was killed. Still, every time he thought about the attack and looked up at the twin lights filling the night sky, he wanted to cry.

Monsters.

Why President Bush didn’t blow up the whole of the Middle East after the attack, Doug would never understand. Instead, the president sent troops to Afghanistan, searching for Osama bin Laden and taking out Al-Qaeda.

Just as long as they find and kill the monsters who did this to us.

Doug couldn’t help but stop again and glance up to where the twin towers once stood. He quickly wiped at his eyes. “I need to get out of here.” He moved over to the brick façade and leaned against the wall as more people passed him, heading to the memorial ceremony.

“So much suffering and for what?” Doug mumbled. He started walking again, taking a deep breath and trying to avoid the crowds. A woman in a dark jacket passed him and bumped his shoulder, causing him to step closer to an alley. She didn’t bother saying anything; however, Doug thought she said something about his size. He caught his reflection again. He hated how everything made him feel so fat. Nothing he wore looked right on him. Even the baggy pants still made him look fat and messy. He would need to start at the gym if he wanted to continue dating Tim and keep up with his partying. He frowned.

At least I have good hair.

He played with the spikes of his hair.

“It’s my fault,” a gruff voice whispered from behind him.

Doug startled and turned around, but no one was there. He glanced over to the dumpster.

Sitting there, a raggedy black man, with kinky hair in desperate need of a cut and wash, stared at him. The man had the most beautiful green eyes Doug had ever seen. The rich tones of his skin really made his eyes pop, quite possibly the unkempt man’s best feature. The man was in shambles, and tears streamed down his dirty cheeks.

The anniversary affects everyone.

“I did this,” the man groaned through his sobs. “And now I’m being punished.”

Doug wasn’t sure what to do or say. Should he walk away and get to the salon? Leave what appeared to be the crazy homeless guy alone? Could he do that now that they made eye contact? Could he do that today of all days? The man needed help. The man needed a shower and clean clothes. Perhaps, if he talked to him, that would be enough…well, the talk and ten bucks.

That’s what Shannon would do. Talk to him and give him money. Shannon was such a kind soul, and I need to be more like him, more like he was. To honor him. Just like my drag name. Maybe Miss Enshannon needs to be more. I need to be more.

Doug’s heart ached at the memories of Shannon and how wonderful he was. When he picked his drag name there was no doubt on what it would be, but to honor someone you loved had to be more than using their name.

“It’s not your fault.” He knelt close to the man, still keeping his distance just in case. “It was the work of terrorists. They killed all those people, not you.”

“I should have stopped them. I should have done more,” the dirty man moaned.

“Oh, baby, no one could have done more,” Doug offered. Some people thought the government knew about the attack beforehand and the president allowed it to happen. Doug didn’t buy it. Why anyone listened to these people was beyond him, but they did. He just wished they would shut up and crawl back under the rocks they came from. They weren’t helping anyone, and in the long run, their remarks and comments only hurt people more.

“Now, I’m being punished. They sent me here and took my wings,” the man whispered.

Was this guy a pilot? Oh, that would be awful. I bet he was supposed to fly one of the planes, and he couldn’t take it. Survivor’s guilt.

“No one is punishing you. Look, it’s a tough day for everyone. We all feel like we should have done more.” Images of the planes flying into the towers and then seeing and feeling them collapse; even at the Paul Mitchell campus on Staten Island, they were affected. I really need to call Garret. Doug pulled out his flip phone and checked the time. “I’ve got to get to work.” He stopped and peeked at the crowd of people passing by and then faced the guy. A bright smile filled his face.

I know what I’ve got to do. A makeover. Help this guy out.

“You want to come with me? We’ll get you a shower and give you a cut. My girl Minx knows all about your hair type. It’ll be fun.”

What the hell am I doing? I must still be drunk from last night. Or affected by what Tim and I took. This guy might kill me. No. He’s sad, and on a day like today, someone needs to be nice to him. Plus, I’m a big enough guy I can take him…

Doug extended his hand.

I hope.

“You want to help me?” The man glanced around at his filthy surroundings.

Doug nodded. “Sure. Why not?”

“Most people ignore me. Some people give me money, but they rush by.” The man’s voice was filled with surprise.

He stood and Doug took in this guy’s build. Strong shoulders, even if hidden by a disheveled brown shirt and coat. Doug got a whiff of the funk that enveloped the man. It was a mix of… Doug didn’t want to think what, and he pulled back.

Definitely a shower and some new clothes. These are getting burned.

“Well, not today.” Doug dusted off his pants. “I work at a salon near Washington Square. You know it?” His face got warm. “Anyway, we can walk there and get you all cleaned up. My boss won’t mind.”

Or at least I hope not. Nah, the bitch owes me for helping him with his makeup the other night at the club. What a show that was. I killed it.

“Thank you.” The man beamed a bright pearly smile, in contrast to the dirt on his face and clothes. His teeth and mouth were probably the cleanest part of him. What’s more, there was no foul odor coming from his mouth.

Good oral hygiene. I’m not even sure that is possible, given the state of him, but thank the lord.

“What’s your name?” Doug asked as they weaved through the crowd, people giving them a wide birth. “I’m Doug.”

“I don’t have a name.”

Doug froze. “What?”

“I don’t have a name.” The man met Doug’s gaze with his big eyes and innocent face. “They used to call me…” His gaze dropped to the sidewalk.

“What?” Doug stood watching him. A tall man with a goatee hit his shoulder as he passed. “What did they used to call you? Can’t be any worse than what they’ve called me.”

The dirty man faced Doug. “They used to call me the Angel of Death before they took my wings.”

Doug let out a nervous laugh as he glanced around. There was a break in the stream of people.

Great, this guy is crazy, and I’m stuck with him. Good job, dumb ass.

Doug shook his head, studying the sky.

This is all Shannon’s fault. I should have kept walking. Everyone tells me not to make eye contact with the homeless. Why didn’t I listen?

Doug cleared his throat. “Well, we can’t call you that. How about Angel?”

The man shook his head.

“Well, I’m not gonna call you Death, no matter how cool it sounds,” Doug teased as they walked again and got to the intersection. They crossed the street, ignoring the odd looks they were getting. He was used to odd looks. He had been getting them his whole life. People needed to suck it. “Oh, I know. How about Tad?”

“Tad?”

Doug smiled. “Short for ‘the Angel of Death.’ Well, that would be Taod, but that sounds dumb.”

The man shrugged.

“Tad it is.” Doug’s mouth grew into a smile and warmth rushed through his body that wasn’t there this morning. It was nice. Doing something good for someone on a day like today felt like a good call. Even the stench coming off the man seemed to lessen. Maybe the man didn’t smell bad after all. Or maybe I’m getting used to it. Gross. As long as he doesn’t go all batshit crazy, he could deal with the smell, which would be fixed soon enough. He hoped.

They picked up their pace and walked in silence. Doug wasn’t fully sure why he was doing this. Was it because today was such a hard day? Was it his small way of acknowledging that we all need help sometimes? Was it because the world was a massive shit hole and he wanted to make it a little better? Was he doing it for Shannon? Shannon had been so kind and sweet, never having it easy. At least Doug passed for straight, when he wanted to, which wasn’t often these days. And forget it when he was onstage with his big blonde wig, big red lips, and big old fake titties. Hell, this might even be fate for all he knew.

Fuck it, who cares? I’m fierce, and Tad’s gonna be fierce.

Doug pulled open the door to the salon. “Hey, girls, I have a project,” he announced in his loudest, most over-the-top voice possible. “This is Tad, and we’re gonna make him fabulous.” He snapped his fingers and everyone in the shop froze and stared at them.

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Meet the Author

M.D. Neu is a LGBTQA Fiction Writer with a love for writing and travel. Living in the heart of Silicon Valley (San Jose, California) and growing up around technology, he’s always been fascinated with what could be. Specifically drawn to Science Fiction and Paranormal television and novels, M.D. Neu was inspired by the great Gene Roddenberry, George Lucas, Stephen King, Alfred Hitchcock and Kim Stanley Robinson. An odd combination, but one that has influenced his writing.

Growing up in an accepting family as a gay man, he always wondered why there were never stories reflecting who he was. Constantly surrounded by characters that only reflected heterosexual society, M.D. Neu decided he wanted to change that. So, he took to writing, wanting to tell good stories that reflected our diverse world.

When M.D. Neu isn’t writing, he works for a non-profit and travels with his biggest supporter and his harshest critic, Eric, his husband of eighteen plus years.

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