May 13

New Release Blitz: To Love and to Cherish by Tamryn Eradani (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: To Love and to Cherish

Series: Enchanting Encounters, Book Three

Author: Tamryn Eradani

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: May 13, 2019

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 57400

Genre: Contemporary, LGBT, Contemporary, BDSM, gay, bondage expo, spanking, collaring, commitment, college professor

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Synopsis

Kyle’s never been shy about going after what he wants. After two short term contracts, he wants something closer to permanent with Aidan. And what better way to bring them closer than to spend time apart? Being away from each other for the first time in their relationship might make them both realize they’d rather be together.

Excerpt

To Love and to Cherish
Tamryn Eradani © 2019
All Rights Reserved

Music filters through the speakers of the dance club, this song less deafening than the last. The singer’s voice is lower, crooning, and every beat of the bass reverberates through Kyle’s body. He moves with the music, chasing it, his movements too languid to ever completely catch it.

The guy behind him groans as Kyle grinds back against him. He splays his hands across Kyle’s hips and pulls Kyle back against him, as if there’s any space left between them at this point.

“You’re good at this,” the guy says, his breath hot against Kyle’s ear.

Kyle grins as he tips his head back against the guy’s shoulder. It shows off the long line of his throat, even in the dim lighting of the club. It’s a tease, all that skin, shiny with a sheen of sweat, more than Kyle meant it to be. The guy tightens his hold as he dips his lips to Kyle’s neck.

“Makes me wonder what else you’re good at,” the guy says.

Yep, definitely too much of a tease. Kyle stops the man’s hands from creeping up his shirt.

“Tonight, just dancing,” Kyle tells the stranger.

“I could persuade you.” He dips his thumbs into Kyle’s waistband. It’s his turn to grind against Kyle, and Kyle’s honest enough to admit the man’s packing a pretty persuasive argument.

It’s tempting, but he has someone even better waiting for him tonight.

“You can’t,” Kyle says, apologetic as he turns so they’re face to face.

The guy’s a couple of inches taller than Kyle, but he doesn’t make him feel small. He likes a bit of looming from his partners, and he’s met some people who pull it off even though they’re shorter than him, but this guy doesn’t manage it even with a natural advantage. It’s a good reminder that while this has been fun, this isn’t the guy he wants to spend the rest of his night with.

The man’s hands on are Kyle’s ass now. They roamed during the past two songs, touching what seems like every part of Kyle’s body. His skin is humming with it. He wants a harder touch, for them to slip under his clothes even though he just stopped the man from doing it.

Someone better is waiting for me at home.

It makes him wonder which of them he’s really teasing.

Probably both.

“One more dance or no?” Kyle asks, his tone light so the guy knows there’re no hard feelings either way.

“One more,” the guy says.

He keeps Kyle like this, the two of them facing each other, as he draws him in closer. He’s rougher during this song, because it has a faster beat or because he knows this is the last few minutes he has before Kyle disappears into the crowd.

Honestly, Kyle doesn’t care what the reason is. He’s into the hands that try to touch all of him one last time and the press of the guy’s dick through his pants. He’s really into the way the guy loses the rhythm of the music as if Kyle’s more important than the dancing. By the end of the song, what they’re doing can’t be called dancing. Even with clothes on, it’s borderline indecent.

Kyle unwraps himself from the other man and flashes him a thumbs-up before heading to the bar for a drink. He asks the bartender for lemonade because he’s looking for a jolt of sugar.

He leans against the counter once he has his drink and looks out at the dance floor. It’s hard to see more than shapes, just a mass of bodies writhing together. He takes a drink, the coldness of his lemonade a contrast to his overheated skin.

He checks his watch. He has to stay here for at least a half hour longer. Probably more. He doesn’t want to seem too eager even though he is eager. All of this is to wind him up, and he’s not sure how much more of it he can stand.

He takes another long drink before he holds his glass to his forehead. His face is flushed, and he’s sweating. He’d worn one of his thinnest shirts in anticipation of a packed dance floor, and now it’s plastered against his skin, it’s practically see-through.

Once he finishes his drink, he leaves the cup and a tip for the bartender. There’s a line for the bathroom, and by the time he’s done, his clothes are sticky and uncomfortable from the sweat drying. Should he call it a night and head home? If he drives slowly enough, then he’ll show up at the earliest time he was given. He was hoping to make it a little longer, but the teasing will be worth it.

A guy with spiked hair and a hopeful smile slides up to him. He’s slimmer than Kyle and his cheeks are as pink as Kyle’s feel. He has eyelashes that make Kyle jealous, and his shirt, if possible, clings even more than Kyle’s is right now.

“You look like you’re trying to have a good time,” the guy says.

He isn’t Kyle’s type at all except he’s interested, and that’s Kyle’s biggest turn on, more than eye color or body shape or gender. Maybe it makes him vain, but he finds himself leaning toward the other man.

“Not too good a time,” Kyle cautions, because on a night like this, it’s important he doesn’t lead anyone on. Some guys assume he’s playing hard to get, and those are the ones he cuts loose after a dance. He is looking for a good time, but his end game isn’t anyone here.

The guy smiles, his teeth white and bright in the dark room. “That makes two of us.”

Kyle shrugs and lets the guy lead him to a part of the dance floor he hasn’t used yet tonight. It’s on the edge, in full view of the bar. Kyle prefers being in the middle of things, bodies packed tight all around him.

It takes a whole song for him to realize the guy’s looking over Kyle’s shoulder toward the bar.

Their plans for the night really are the same.

Kyle hooks his fingers through the man’s belt loops and tugs until he has his attention. “Do you have someone watching or someone you wish was watching?”

“Uh.” The guy’s gaze redirects to Kyle. He puts a few inches between them as if he’s nervous. He must see something on Kyle’s face that settles him because he says, “The first one.”

Which means whoever it is must be sitting at the bar. Kyle wants to turn around and see for himself, but he holds off. First, he runs his hands through the guy’s hair and tips his head back so they’re looking at each other.

“What am I allowed to do?” Kyle asks.

He knows all about putting on a show. Getting people’s attention is one of his best skills, and he’s more than happy to help this guy have his good night.

The guy’s eyebrows climb upwards. “You were definitely a good choice. You can do anything but kiss me.”

“Anything? I can’t kiss, but I can bite?”

“Not hard. No marks.” His brow furrows. “Were you planning on it?”

“No, but you should be more careful offering blank checks to random guys you meet in dance clubs.”

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Meet the Author

Tamryn studied English and Creative Writing in school but has been writing since she could first hold a pencil. Recently, she’s turned her focus towards writing erotica. She enjoys writing stories where sex comes first, then feelings, because doing things out of order can be fun.

Tamryn has spent the past few months writing the Daniel and Ryan series with a lovely view of mountains out her window, and she’s now searching for a new mountain range to serve as her backdrop as she begins her next project.

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BDSM, bondage expo, collaring, college professor, commitment, Contemporary, Gay, LGBT, spanking
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May 06

New Release Blitz: Ashore by Isabelle Adler (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Ashore

Series: Staying Afloat, Book Two

Author: Isabelle Adler

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: May 6, 2019

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 67900

Genre: Science Fiction, LGBT, sci-fi, spaceships/pilots, action-adventure, abduction, bisexual, demisexual

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Synopsis

You can only put the past away for so long.

This had never been truer for the crew of Matt’s ship, the Lady Lisa. Even as their engine suffers a critical malfunction and Matt scrambles to fund the costly repairs, Val, the ship’s reticent engineer, unexpectedly comes face-to-face with a deadly ghost from his past. Now it’s up to Matt, Ryce, and Tony to rescue him, even if it means breaking the law and striking an uneasy bargain with a local black-market kingpin—but what if this time their best efforts simply aren’t good enough?

And it might be that Val isn’t the only crew member Matt risks losing when his budding relationship with Ryce unexpectedly runs aground. With their love and commitment put to the test, Matt and Ryce must rally to save their friend and to keep their ship afloat, but in a race so desperate there might not be any real winners.

Excerpt

Ashore
Isabelle Adler © 2019
All Rights Reserved

“That’s it,” Matt said. “It’s over.”

The three of them stood around the gutted engine of the Lady Lisa. Well, Matt stood, while Val and Ryce crouched beside it amid piles of discarded parts, wires, and pieces of electronics. Both of them were covered in smudges of grease and looking up at Matt with expressions bordering on horror, as if unable to accept the pronouncement of judgment. It would have been quite comical, really, except there was nothing remotely funny about the situation.

Usually, it was Matt who was unwilling to acknowledge a problem he wasn’t prepared to deal with, but after watching his engineer and pilot tinker with the thing for hours with absolutely nothing to show for it, even he had to grudgingly admit it was a lost cause. If two geniuses put together couldn’t fix the damn engine, then it was beyond fixing.

“We need a new power converter,” Val said tiredly and wiped his face, smearing the grease even further. “There’s not much we can do without it.”

“We’re afraid the fission chamber would explode if we try to bypass it,” Ryce said apologetically, as if it was his fault the engine worked the way it did. Or didn’t, as the case was.

“Yeah, don’t try that,” Matt said. The last thing he needed was his ship exploding, taking all the crew and half the landing dock with it.

And he definitely didn’t need his ship breaking down. Luckily, the engine decided to give out while they were still safely docked at the Freeport 73 station, and not in the middle of a run. Otherwise, they’d have been stranded in space, drifting with the rest of the human-made junk that orbited Elysium until somebody deigned to answer their distress call.

“Okay,” Matt said, turning his mind back to the problem at hand, searching for some sort of a quick solution. They’d have to cancel the job Matt had contracted yesterday (geological survey equipment delivery to one of the moons of Elysium-4), and every day they spent docked at the station meant more fees. They couldn’t afford to tarry without any immediate sources of income.

“Can you get a new power converter?” he asked Val.

“Yes,” Val said, getting up. Looming at six feet five inches and built of solid muscle, some would call Valeriy Sokolov intimidating. The buzz cut and the perpetually grim expression did nothing to soften his appearance. He was also one of the smartest people Matt had ever known, and with Ryce in the same room, that was saying a lot.

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ coming,” Matt said.

“A brand new converter would set us back fifteen grand,” Val said. “I might be able to find a used one for about five thousand creds, but there’s no telling how long it’ll hold. Could be just a waste of money.”

Matt had had a feeling he wasn’t going to like it, and his hunch proved to be correct. Unfortunately, they always did.

“Shit.” He stared at the discarded parts as if they could somehow magically transform into Federal credits. He wasn’t prepared for it being quite so large a sum. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“I’ll clean up in here.” Val’s tone clearly suggested he wanted everybody else to leave the engine room.

“Come on.” Ryce got up and took Matt by the arm, steering him toward the exit and into the narrow corridor.

Ryce’s touch was comforting, and Matt instinctively leaned into it. He still couldn’t quite believe they were together. As in a real relationship. Ryce was way out of Matt’s league—a brilliant mind, a former Fleet combat pilot, a war hero. Not to mention hot as hell, and scrupulous to a fault—an admirable trait, but one which, at times, made their lives somewhat difficult.

As the captain of the small cargo ship Lady Lisa, Matt Spears was a runner, an independent contractor living off odd jobs hauling goods between the various planets and outposts in the Elysium system. While Matt was not averse to bending the rules regarding the legality of his cargo or passengers every now and then, Ryce was firmly against illicit smuggling in any shape or form. Had it been any other person, Matt would have told him to bugger off, or at least keep quiet about the nature of his contracts, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie or argue with Ryce on points of honor.

Over seven months ago, Ryce had been involved in one man’s covert scheme that had led to him and Matt crossing paths—but which had also cost Ryce everything. A brilliant Fleet officer with a promising career, he had been discharged under questionable circumstances and cast adrift with no remaining family to fall back on and no home to call his own.

Still, a man of Ryce’s capabilities could’ve easily found himself a job with one of the larger transport companies in the private sector, or pursued an academic career, as his late adoptive parents had always wanted. But instead, he’d chosen to cast his lot with Matt and his crew—a position that held no prospects other than bare survival and presented no challenge for his superior skills.

And now, even this paltry job was at jeopardy. The problem was, with business having been slow lately, Matt didn’t have enough money to buy a new power converter. And without a running engine, they were effectively grounded and couldn’t take on jobs that would earn them the money needed for repairs. It was a vicious circle, and right now, Matt could see no way out of it.

“I don’t know what to do,” Matt confessed once they reached the bridge and he plopped down in the copilot seat. The huge canopy window screen was shut off, a black backdrop for the silence. Outside was the bustle of a busy dock, but here, they were shielded against the noise and nonstop activity of the station.

“We’ll think of something,” Ryce said. “You always find a solution, and there’s still no cause for panic.”

He sat beside him in the pilot’s chair. When Ryce first joined the crew, after his final decommission from the military three weeks ago, they did the awkward dance around the precedence of piloting the ship, taking turns and being painstakingly polite with each other. But Matt quickly gave up on that. Ryce was an ace pilot. It was only logical to let the man do what he did best—not that piloting a small hauler around a sparsely populated solar system took much effort. This arrangement left Matt with not all that much to do around the ship, other than taking care of the business side of things and making sure everything was running smoothly. Which, at present, proved rather difficult.

Matt ran a hand through his unruly auburn hair. Ryce was right; stressing about it wasn’t helpful. He’d just have to calm down and consider the situation rationally.

“I might be able to scrape up about three or four thousand,” he said, crunching the numbers in his head. “There is a bit left in my account from our Ghorra job, and I could sell the new heater core Val bought last week. We could do with the old one a little while longer.”

“It’s not much, but it’s something,” Ryce said.

“Yes, but we’d still be at least ten grand short. And with the docking fees adding up…”

“Can someone loan you the money?” Ryce asked carefully.

For Matt, this had always been a touchy subject. He came from a very wealthy, very respectable family. His father was no other than the renowned Fleet Admiral Thomas Cummings, while his older sister Nora was a Major and commanded her own ship. Seven months ago, she’d been the one to pull him (indeed, all of them) out of hot water after Matt had become an unwitting accessory to high treason and multiple counts of Federal offenses. But his relationship with his family had been strained for years, their difficulties further enhanced by Matt’s continued refusal to keep in touch. After the death of his mother, there was no closing that gap. Despite Nora coming to his rescue, their renewed bond was still too tenuous, and Matt didn’t want to have to run to his sister every time he got into trouble. Perhaps this stance was childish, but he didn’t need his family being more disappointed with him than they already were.

The only other solution was borrowing money from some of his shadier business acquaintances. No proper bank would give him a loan, but people on the gray market would happily supply him with cash—at a killer interest, of course. He just wasn’t sure he wanted to get involved with a loan shark, the way his luck had been going lately.

“We’ll see,” he said finally. The money had to come from somewhere, that much was certain. “Let’s keep this option as a last resort, for now.”

“I should go help Val patch things up in there,” Ryce said, getting up. He hesitated a fraction of a second before planting a kiss on Matt’s forehead.

Matt grinned and reached to wipe a tiny spot of grease off Ryce’s cheek.

“Sorry. I’m getting dirt all over you,” Ryce said, returning his smile.

Seeing Ryce smile at him never failed to make Matt’s heart beat faster. They were both still learning to navigate the sometimes-tricky path of their fledgling relationship, having spent more than six months apart with little contact during Ryce’s prolonged inquiry, but these little moments of quiet affection made the long wait worth it.

“I don’t mind. You can get me as dirty as you want.”

Ryce snickered, a tinge of blush creeping up his cheeks, and left the bridge. When the sliding door closed behind him, Matt sighed and swiveled in his chair. His faint reflection in the darkened window turned with him.

He wished he could see the stars in live view now. Seeing them so close always made him feel as though all these new worlds were within his reach, as though anything was possible if he only tried hard enough. Sometimes it was true, sometimes it wasn’t. All he knew was that if he didn’t fix this problem somehow, and soon, there would be no more chasing stars for him.

For the first time in months, Matt found himself badly needing a drink.

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Meet the Author

A voracious reader from the age of five, Isabelle Adler has always dreamed of one day putting her own stories into writing. She loves traveling, art, and science, and finds inspiration in all of these. Her favorite genres include sci-fi, fantasy, and historical adventure. She also firmly believes in the unlimited powers of imagination and caffeine.

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May 06

New Release Blitz: Breaking His Spell by Foster Bridget Cassidy (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Breaking His Spell

Author: Foster Bridget Cassidy

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: May 6, 2019

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 38800

Genre: Fantasy, LGBT, mages, magic, fantasy, match making, romance, Familiars, dragon, assassination attempt, magicians, royalty, spells, gay, immortal, true love

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Synopsis

Klint doesn’t believe in true love. As an Alma, an immortal magician, he knows such feelings can’t last forever. The death of his mortal lover almost a hundred years ago proved it. But Klint’s resolve gets put to the test when he’s tasked with saving a prince from a dark spell. With Carishina, his friend and fellow Alma, in tow, he sets off for Terius.

Carishina’s ideas for breaking spells differ greatly from Klint’s. While he tries potions, Carishina tries kisses. Only one of them will succeed.

Excerpt

Breaking His Spell
Foster Bridget Cassidy © 2019
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
True love. There were no other words in all the world as deceitful as those.

In my youth, I had believed.

I sought to find that one person to complete me. As a newly trained magician, the Alsa Alma sent me to tutor the third youngest prince of the Farlerotna Kingdom. In the palace, I watched Prince Vulten grow. I was his constant companion in study and in play. The prince had a devious mind, and we spent hours thinking of ways to trick his older siblings.

And on the day he turned eighteen he’d confessed his love for me. Shocking, to say the least, because I’d come to love him too.

True love. Or so I thought. Except, how could anyone truly, irrevocably love an immortal?

For the early years, we were happy. We took trips to foreign nations. We hosted lords and ladies. We played tricks on his siblings, even Rillik, who had taken the crown by then.

But as the years stretched and Vulten began to age, the love in his eyes lessened and faded, replaced by envy and jealousy. As an immortal Alma, my magic kept my body youthful.

He’d died, cursing my name.

For decades, I mourned. Not just the loss of his life, but the loss of his love.

“That,” Alma Carishina said at the end of my monologue, “is why you don’t have relations with mortals.” She leaned forward, her chin resting on her palm. She’d magicked her hair green, and the curls appeared serpentine, a gorgon with her snakes.

“No,” I countered, “that’s why you don’t have any relationships with anyone. If love could not last for eighty years with a mortal, how could it last forever with an immortal? It’s not possible.”

“And so,” Alma Franik added with a toothy grin, “you’ve turned into a grumpy old man at the tender age of two hundred.”

“I’m a hundred and ninety-five,” I fumed. “And I’m not grumpy. I don’t see the point in romance. There’s no such thing as true love.”

“I heard,” Franik stage whispered to Carishina, “he moped in the Farlerotna Palace for a hundred years before they asked for him to be taken away.”

Carishina laughed and the red in my cheeks was not all anger. Maybe I had moped, but my broken heart was understandable. I’d lost my lover, and at the same time, my childish ideas of the world. It had wounded me. I needed to reflect and get a grip on my life.

Had I really been there a hundred years? Rillik’s granddaughter—Simmone—had assumed the throne. How long had I wandered those halls, haunting them like a ghost? It couldn’t have been more than forty or fifty.

“The Alsa Alma had to fetch Klint himself,” Franik concluded with a smug smile.

“Ha-ha,” I told him sourly. “I’m not sure you have room to talk, Franik, as you’ve never even been sent outside these walls. What was it the Alsa Alma said? You ‘lacked any and all ambition’?”

Carishina snorted and Franik glowered. “As if I wanted to mingle with the mortals,” he said, drawing himself up. “I don’t ever want to get mixed up in their insignificant affairs.”

I allowed myself a small grin as Franik directed the conversation onto a new topic.

At times, I still missed Vulten. Our connection had been the one real thing in my life. As a wizard, I used unexplained solutions, backward thinking, magicking anything into reality. But with Vulten, the emotions had seemed more than magic. Better than magic.

At least I’d learned my lesson young. The pain prepared me for my lonely future.

The afternoon light shone in through the stained-glass windows, throwing splashes of color around the room. I adored the place, my favorite in the Alma Palace, a mixture of library and meditation room. Most of the time, no occupants filled the tables. Or on the occasions when they did, other magicians knew enough to leave you to your thoughts. Well, not today. Franik and Carishina had bombarded me with questions the moment I walked in.

They were young—Franik just turned ninety, and Carishina was a mere forty-six. Of course, they were curious about the gossip around the palace, and my experience in Farlerotna continuously made the rounds. Plus, many of the older practitioners didn’t have the time or inclination for dealing with the young ones. Apparently my years in the mortal world had tempered my patience.

“I hope I get an assignment soon,” Carishina said. “I’m ready to travel and see something besides these Mylforsaken windows.” The curse using the goddess’s name sounded odd in her cheerful voice.

“They won’t let you out for a least another twenty years,” I told her.

“Why not? I heard you were sent out at forty-five. I’m older now.”

I shrugged. “The world’s a much more dangerous place now, even to a trained Alma. Dark wizards are the least of our concerns.”

Her lips puckered in displeasure. “I heard there’s a prince in Terius who’s fallen under an evil spell. I want to be the one to rescue him.”

“What did I say about mixing with royalty?” I asked, exasperated. What was the point in telling them my tragic past if they didn’t heed my warnings?

“Oh, Klint,” she said fondly, reaching out to grip my hand. “Just because a relationship didn’t work for you doesn’t mean it won’t work for everybody. Or, maybe your prince was an ass who really didn’t love you at all.”

My mouth fell open. So did Franik’s. Carishina casually went on smiling at me, unaware of how tactless her words had been.

“Klint,” called a voice from behind me. I turned in my seat. Alma Peter leaned through the doorway. “The Alsa Alma would like to speak to you.”

I wrinkled my nose. It’d been awhile since I’d been summoned by the old man. After he’d come to Farlerotna and informed me I was creeping out the current royals, I’d kept my distance. Now, I hoped he had good news for me.

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Meet the Author

Foster Bridget Cassidy is a rare, native Phoenician who enjoys hot desert air and likes to wear jackets in summer. She has wanted to be a fiction writer since becoming addicted to epic fantasy during high school. Since then, she’s studied the craft academically—at Arizona State University—and as a hobby—attending conventions and workshops around the country. A million ideas float in her head, but it seems like there’s never enough time to get them all down on paper.

For fun, Foster likes to take pictures of her dachshunds, sew costumes for her dachshunds, snuggle her dachshunds, and bake treats for her dachshunds. In exchange for so much love and devotion, they pee vast amounts on the floor, click their nails loudly on the tile, and bark wildly at anything that moves outside. Somehow, this relationship works for all involved.

While not writing, Foster can usually be found playing a video game or watching a movie with her husband. While not doing any of those things, Foster can usually be found in bed, asleep.

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assassination attempt, dragon, Familiars, Fantasy, Gay, immortal, LGBT, mages, magic, magicians, match making, Romance, royalty, spells, true love
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Apr 29

New Release Blitz: Mourning Dove by r.r. campbell (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Mourning Dove

Series: EMPATHY, Book Two

Author: r.r. campbell

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: April 29, 2019

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: No Romance

Length: 118000

Genre: Science Fiction, LGBT, sci-fi; bio-tech; science fiction; action/suspense; political/legal thriller

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Synopsis

In the aftermath of the calamitous Human/Etech research study, Chandra and Kyra struggle to reclaim the life they shared in a pre-EMPATHY world, while Ty, armed with knowledge of EMPATHY’s programming language, seeks revenge on the Halmans for the harm that’s befallen his friends.

As a North American Union investigation into the happenings on the compound looms, a grief-stricken Peter works to resurrect the memory of his mother from a harvested nanochip, and Heather scrambles to keep her family—and their company—together. Alistair, having abandoned the family business, plots to save his hide and that of his wife while she strives to stay one step ahead of a husband she has no reason to trust.

Far to the north amid civil unrest, a recently retired Rénald Dupont investigates the disappearance of his friend and former colleague, Meredith, despite grave threats from an increasingly skittish North American Union government.

As old and new foes emerge, spouse is further pit against spouse, brother against sister, and governments against their people. In the end, all must choose between attempts to reclaim the past or surrender to the inevitable, an intractable world of their own creation.

Mourning Dove is an evocative, sweeping symphony of love, revenge, and desperation in cacophonous times. It is the second installment in r. r. campbell’s epic EMPATHY sci-fi saga.

Excerpt

Mourning Dove
R.R. Campbell © 2019
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
Chandra

The fear of death coiled its cold bony fingers around her.

As she dangled her feet off the edge of her doctor’s exam table, EMPATHY whirred to life, delivering an image she’d painted months earlier, one of midnight blacks, of tendrils of darkness—the painting through which she’d mourned the loss of Ty’s friend, a sensation gut-wrenchingly similar to mourning the loss of one’s self.

“Chandra?” Doctor Abernathy said. “Did you hear me? Do you understand?”

Kyra tugged at Chandra’s sleeve, gripping it tight as she leaned in. “Babe? The doctor—”

Chandra nodded, breaking her concentration on the image, on fending off the evil that always accompanied the embers of EMPATHY flickering of their own volition. The chip might have no longer been connected to her egodrive—the Merry Hacksters had seen to that three months earlier on the night of the interview—but that wasn’t enough to stop the nanochip from working locally, a computer without an internet connection.

And how could she not have heard the doctor? Three years. Five years max. The damn chip was going to kill her if the AI living within it didn’t drive her mad first.

“How can you even know?” Kyra said to the doctor, releasing her grip of Chandra’s sleeve and squeezing her hand instead. “A timeline like that is—”

“Loose, yes,” said Eliza Abernathy, the doctor Human/Etech appointed to Chandra following the study. “But we’ve become more confident in our prognoses now that we have additional data on the deterioration rates for those who have passed since the study’s completion.”

“So? Those things happened to other people,” Kyra insisted. “Chandra might be different, and everything you’ve said is so unspecific—”

“Well,” the doctor said, “if you want specifics, I can tell you given Chandra’s general fatigue and the frequency of her intermittent lack of bodily control, we can project those symptoms will progress over the next three to five years until she sleeps nearly the entire day through.”

It felt as though a warm, heavy blanket descended on Chandra, the exhaustion coming for her again, doing its best to depress her increased heart rate and the panic gripping her.

“So she’ll fall asleep and that’s it?” Kyra said.

“Mostly,” said Abernathy. “At some point in that sleep, the brain stem itself will power down, and with it, her breathing and cardiac function will cease.”

Most days Chandra already felt as though she were drowning. Her final breaths, those she would draw in her sleep no less, couldn’t be any more unpleasant than the pained ones she had to gasp after from time to time.

Kyra squeezed Chandra’s hand tighter. “You’re sure there’s nothing we can do, doctor? What if you took out her chip?”

Doctor Abernathy tut-tutted. “There’s only been one case to date in which a patient has had their chip removed without further complication.”

“But we could try, right?” Kyra said, eyes awash with tears as she turned to Chandra. “You want to try, don’t you?”

Chandra swallowed, frozen now not by the news the doctor had delivered, but by another threat entirely. It always started this way, a tickle, a grinding sensation. She’d learned she could keep it at bay if she popped an anxicap, but—oh, what time was it? It’d been hours since she’d last taken one, and the veil of fog the anxiety med shrouded her in had already been pierced by Abernathy’s news. Weak. Her defenses were too weak.

Tickle. Click. Grind.

Somewhere in the deepest recesses of her mind, M3R1 had pulled off a jailbreak, Chandra in pursuit as M3R1 sped down neurohighways, barreling toward some imaginary county line where, once on the other side, it could assume control here in the real world. Abernathy and Kyra narrowed their eyes as Chandra twitched, scrambling to rally her deputies, dispatching roadblocks and spike strips to halt M3R1’s every advance.

“See? It’s happening again,” Kyra said. “She’s suffering and—”

Chandra ignored her, focused on spinning out another of M3R1’s mental assault vehicles. There—no more tickle, no more grind, no more shoulder jerking or lip curling. With M3R1 successfully impeded, she inhaled through her nose and dared to shake her head once.

“No?” Kyra said. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t you want them to try to remove your chip? Did you even hear what Doctor Abernathy said?”

Had she not seen Chandra nod earlier? Just because she couldn’t speak didn’t mean she couldn’t understand, something still lost on Kyra, lost on the world in the months since her release from the research compound. As Chandra’s motor control had returned over time, as her memory became less clouded, she had taken to sketching her thoughts as best as she could manage, though it turned out the world was downright miserable at playing her version of Pictation.

Doctor Abernathy intervened, speaking directly to Kyra. “Your wife’s fear is understandable. This is an unfortunate prognosis, yes—”

“Unfortunate prognosis?!” Kyra said. “I think telling us Chandra’s life will be severely shortened as a result of your company’s malpractice is a bit more than an ‘unfortunate prognosis.’”

Death’s fingers tightened their grip, and the well of sorrow within Chandra overflowed, choking her off at the throat, spilling over at the eyes. Chandra was twenty-six. Twenty-six. That she’d only live to see thirty-one, that she’d spend her final years regretting having left that helmet in her back seat, having signed up for the study, that she’d have no way to truly apologize for the woe in which she now drowned her wife… All of it was enough to have her yearning to surrender to death’s embrace now.

But that wasn’t possible, not with what lurked inside her, not with what would become of it were she to die and have EMPATHY removed. So long as M3R1 had the potential to someday return to the cerenet and wreak havoc on the world as it did on the compound, it could still win their war. Chandra might have been winning most of their battles as of late, but she couldn’t rely on her anxicaps forever, and fighting M3R1 without them only fueled the exhaustion Doctor Abernathy said would kill her in the end. Before Chandra could ever give in, she’d have to find a way to assure M3R1’s fate along with her own.

Kyra, still fretting alongside the exam table, bit the inside of her cheek. “And look at her, Doctor. You call this progress? When she’s not spasming, she’s scared stiff. She’s not even moving.”

Chandra clenched her jaw as M3R1 sped a fresh caravan of malicious intent down a central neurohighway, the caravan’s members splitting off at every exit in a multi-pronged attack. In the exam room, she remained immobile. She couldn’t lose control now.

“Yes,” the doctor said, stepping in front of Chandra again. “You mentioned this temporary paralysis has been recurring?”

Kyra nodded as the doctor pulled a handheld ophthalmoscope from the breast pocket of her lab coat. Chandra squinted as the light from the instrument struck her eyes.

“She’s still responsive.” After adopting a pensive expression, the doctor spoke again. “Perhaps it is fear driving these episodes, then.”

“What do we do?” Kyra said.

As well intended as Kyra might have been, what was to come had so little to do with a we and everything to do with a she—and that she would be Chandra and Chandra alone.

“You make the best of the time you have together,” Doctor Abernathy said. “It’s a miracle the two of you have been reunited in light of everything that’s happened. I’d encourage you to make the most of it.”

Kyra sniffled. She squeezed Chandra’s hand once again. “The two of us and the cat, that is.”

“Ah,” the doctor said, “you’ll be getting an emotional support animal after all?”

Apparently, yes, they were. It would be the two of them, the cat… and something far more sinister.

One of M3R1’s attacks charged a roadblock Chandra had set in its way. It burst through on the far side, Chandra trembling as M3R1 took hold.

>>You can only keep M3R1 away for so long, Chandra, and M3R1 would very much like an escape.

Chandra’s voice gurgled in her throat.

“She’s trying to say something,” Kyra said.

Abernathy put herself opposite Kyra’s side of the exam table, apparently prepared to help keep Chandra from falling. “No. It’s a seizure.”

Both Abernathy and Kyra were wrong. The twitching of her muscles, the contortions of her face—they were symptoms of a lawman-outlaw shootout deep in her mind.

>>You will tell the doctors to remove the chip, Chandra. You will tell them to remove the chip and—

Her mind’s sheriff dared one last shot, a final bullet bursting forward from the chamber of her six-shooter. The AI crumpled.

Every bit of her—down to the hairs on her arms—felt as though it burned as the electrical activity supporting M3R1 now turned against it. The enlisted forces from the county next door surged into action, corralling the rogue AI’s body and dragging it back to its shoddy prison inside the EMPATHY chip. It would only be a matter of time before it resurrected itself, but for now, the threat had been neutralized.

Chandra permitted herself an uneasy breath as the tension in the room melted.

Kyra wrapped her arms around Chandra’s waist from where she stood on the floor, burying her head in her side. “I’m sorry, Chandra. I’m sorry this had to happen.”

Had she the words, Chandra would have told her wife she didn’t need to be sorry this happened, that it was all beyond her control. She would have told Kyra she was sorry—not for what had come to pass in recent months, but rather for what would come to pass the moment Chandra met her early end.

When Chandra died, however soon that might be, she was sure Human/Etech would harvest EMPATHY from within her, and with it, M3R1. And who knew what calamity M3R1 might induce were it returned to the cerenet in a world where EMPATHY would inevitably take hold? It had been willing to kill her if it had come down to it, and the eighty-seven lives lost on the compound were testimony to M3R1’s dedication to its goals.

Even if her own were now a lost cause, Chandra was determined to never again let M3R1 destroy a human life. But how could she keep the Halmans from getting their hands on her chip once she passed? Was it possible to excise M3R1 from it before she died? Chandra had no idea, but it was now her life goal—her life’s duty—to make sure M3R1 could never again terrorize anyone besides her.

For now, though, she put an arm around her wife’s shoulders, drew her in, and laid a soft kiss on the crown of her head. Three years or five, it made no difference. Regardless of how one spun it, Chandra and Kyra had far less time than they once thought, far less time than they’d hoped, but for now they still had each other.

And that had to count for something.

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Meet the Author

Born Ryan Campbell, r. r. campbell is an author, editor, and host of the r. r. campbell writescast. His work has been featured in Five:2:One Magazine’s #thesideshow, Erotic Review, and with National Journal Writing Month. He lives in Madison, Wisconsin with his wife, Lacey, and their cats, Hashtag and Rhaegar.

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Apr 29

New Release Blitz: Modified and Sacred by Jana Denardo (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Modified and Sacred

Author: Jana Denardo

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: April 29, 2019

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 35000

Genre: Science Fiction, NineStar Press, LGBT, sci-fi, space travel, interspecies, action/adventure, body mods

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Synopsis

Lieutenant Addison Hunt is proud to serve the Confederation even if he still feels like he’s on the outside looking in. Addison was illegally genetically modified as a child, leaving him burdened with a sense of shame. Emotionally isolated from his fellow crewmen and recovering from injuries from his last job, Addison is happy to have light duty transporting an esteemed diplomat to a peace conference.

Deveral is one of the Sacred Kin, possessing a psychic ability that his people consider a spark of the divine. Like all the Sacred Kin, he’s led a sheltered life as a temple priest, but his heightened empathic ability makes him the perfect diplomat. Nervous to leave his home, he’s curious about his new companion, Lieutenant Hunt.

Not everyone wants the diplomatic mission to succeed, and a rebel faction poses a real threat to Addison and Deveral. Finding themselves cast adrift on a “lost” colony, they’ll have to fight to stay alive.

Excerpt

Modified and Sacred
Jana Denardo © 2019
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
Fyria promised peace, hanging like a blue-green, white-smudged jewel in the starship Turing’s view screen. Addison wondered if Fyria’s peace would be one more broken promise. Living a life stuffed full of fractured vows, he remained leery of new pledges. He’d never been in this little pocket of the galaxy and knew the bare minimum about the Fyrians.

Captain Valdis Sigmundsson swiveled her chair around to eye him. The fine lines around her eyes and lips always set him at ease. He knew this face well, though he knew the visage best on Admiral Hilde Sigmundsson, Valdis’s identical twin. Hilde had saved him all those years ago and sponsored him through the academy. He’d do anything for the twins and had been honored to serve with Valdis. Valdis and Hilde had made him honorary family, and off duty, he called them his aunts. If there was anyone he loved unconditionally, it was the sisters.

“Are you ready for a mission more boring than your usual?” Valdis’s platinum-hued eyes danced.

Addison schooled emotion from his face. He liked to appear neutral and unflappable on duty, a contrast to his captain. Controlling his emotions proved difficult for him, too acerbic in temperament. His shoulder thrummed with pain, reminding him how his last mission had been too exciting. He was luckier than most when it came to that assignment.

“An uncomplicated escort mission would be a nice change of pace. Besides—” He grinned impertinently at his captain, breaking his own self-edict of being emotionally controlled. “—how often will I get to talk to a living god?”

Valdis snorted, garnering the attention of her navigators. “Deveral is not exactly a living god. He’s Sacred Kin,” she reminded him, though he could be trusted to read the dossier. “The Fyrians believe their Sacred Kin hold a flicker of God’s power. That said, do be on your best behavior, Lieutenant. I’d hate for you to cause an intergalactic mission to go belly up if you act like your usual sarcastic self.”

Addison offered her a flat smile, recognizing the subtle reprimand hidden in those humorous words. He’d spent too many hard years outside the military. He hadn’t been broken to their respectful ways, not entirely. His spotty past was why he fought to improve his on-duty demeanor. “I’ll behave.”

Addison hoped this living god would do the same. He had no time for entitled assholes, whom he loathed outright. He might not be the right person for the job of babysitting an ambassador, especially one who’d been treated as a god his whole life, but Addison brushed away the negativity. He was a professional. This would be a simple job easing him back into active duty after Telsama. Uncomplicated was just what he needed.

His shoulder twinged at the thought of Telsama. He was lucky to still be standing here. The ship’s surgeon had worked hard to put him back together again, and his strange body hadn’t made it any easier. Illegal anatomical modification meant very few records had been kept on all the things done to him as a child. Luckily, Dr. Wroe had done multiple workups on him the moment Captain Sigmundsson brought him on board, so she knew all his strangeness intimately.

Setting the dark thoughts aside, he entered his small, but private quarters. Sigmundsson had arranged these accommodations, even though most Coalition officers of Addison’s rank had roommates. If anyone had known the captain was involved in the situation, he’d have faced taunts of favoritism, but jeers would have been worth it. Roommates would have questions if they caught sight of his few visual modifications. Most of his mods were internal, but those that could be seen were highlighted in glowing lights in his imagination. Sighing, he considered what he needed to pack in his rucksack.

It would be a short trip on a shuttle. All the appropriate away-mission weaponry was a must. Any options centered on what to bring for the day or two he’d have to spend at the station hosting the talks once he dropped off his holiness. He would have been far more comfortable just turning around and heading back for the Turing, but protocol demanded he wait and make sure the Sacred Kin remained safe.

Addison flopped on his bed, staring up at the gunmetal gray ceiling. He had no idea how to handle someone like this Sacred Kin Deveral fellow. He’d never been anyone’s first choice for ambassadorial duties, so Addison couldn’t guess why Aunt Valdis had tasked him with the job. He’d been cleared for full duty, so he didn’t need this light assignment. Did she think he wanted to step up the ladder and round out his résumé? No, she knew he’d not be allowed to advance. His modifications had been forgiven as they weren’t of his doing, but they were still a noose to any chance of becoming a captain someday.

Rubbing his eyes, Addison tried not to feel bitter about the situation. He would do his best to go as far as he could.

“I’m going nowhere if I don’t get myself prepared,” he muttered.

Addison rolled to his feet and parked himself at his workstation. He needed to know more about the Fyrians in order to deal with Deveral properly. This Sacred Kin business was new to him. He’d grown up without a hint of religion. After his rescue, religion remained something he only had a passing acquaintance with. The idea that an entire race could believe certain members of their kind actually possessed a sliver of the divine struck him as bizarre. What would that entail? How arrogant would someone like a Sacred Kin be if they were praised and all but worshipped daily? Would he have to grease up the guy’s ego to get it in the shuttle?

Addison delved into Fyrian history and culture. He had immersed himself so deeply into his studies the doorbell chiming nearly sent him out of his skin. “Door open,” he told the computer. He rubbed his aching eyes again, feeling as if someone had poked them. He never did well with a lot of light, and the computer screen counted as too bright.

Doctor Yukiko Hayashi stood in his doorway. Addison smiled slightly and waved her in. “What’s up?”

“I heard you have a diplomatic mission and thought you might need a little of this.” She waggled the Cala whiskey bottle she held, sloshing the blue liquid about.

He made an appreciative noise, pushing back from the workstation as he nodded toward the little breakfast nook in his studio. “Do you know what I love about you, Yukiko?”

“I can read your mind?” Yukiko tossed her long hair over her shoulder before she sat at the tiny table.

“That’s it.” Addison fetched two glasses and sat next to her. “Do you know anything about the Fyrians?”

“Not much other than they’ve been in the news a lot lately.” She poured the whiskey. Unlike so many others, the drink had a sweet scent, almost like blackberries. The fruity taste was one of the reasons he liked the whiskey. His modified system could handle a lot of alcohol, but he preferred it sweet.

“How so? I’ve been out of it.” He didn’t have to tell her. She had assisted Dr. Wroe’s lifesaving efforts on him after his last mission had gone horribly awry.

“They found a group of them that branched off the main planet so long ago they faded into myth. Isn’t that what your mission is?”

Addison sipped the high alcohol content whiskey. “I’ve been looking up what the hell a Sacred Kin is.”

“Did you find anything interesting?” Yukiko shot her whiskey faster than he did. She poured herself another.

“They’re an interesting people. You’d find them fascinating. They have chromatophores in their skin and can change their coloring as camouflage.” Addison remembered the videos he’d seen of them and tried to explain. “During their evolution, there was a particularly nasty predator involved. The prey-predator relationship is what scientists think drove that piece of genetic neatness. I mean, it sucks to be prey, and obviously, their situation was worse than primitive humans had with a saber-toothed tiger, but their skin color thing is pretty.”

“You’re right; that would be fascinating. Now I’m sad I’m not on this mission with you.”

“I’d gladly let you take my place. I’m not good at this stuff. I don’t talk to people.”

“You’re talking to me.”

“Only because I had to talk to you for so many months when I came onboard. I got used to you.”

“Newsflash, Addy, that’s how it works. You talk, the other person talks back. You don’t actually have social anxiety, per se.” Yukiko scowled. “You don’t, do you? I’ve never seen any signs in you.”

He shook his head. “No, conversation doesn’t make me anxious but…” He let air escape him. Talking about this never got easier. “I don’t know the rules.”

“I’m aware, just as I’m aware that, despite being schooled, you never picked up on those sorts of social cues, nor do you recognize your worth.”

Addison forced himself to meet her gaze but couldn’t keep eye contact. “My schooling was with private tutors.”

She knew that of course, and his statement wasn’t the whole truth. He’d attended the academy after a few years of immersive education thanks to Hilde and Valdis. His determined aunts never let him quit on himself. It would have been easier to just implant the education, but it was an imperfect, illegal process that had high chances of basically lobotomizing a person. Most illegal mods like him, worker drones who counted for less than the equipment they manned, had gone through implantation. He’d worked with those lobotomized mods, or at least the ones still able to function. Some were violent, forced into wearing a “shock collar,” technically a neuroimplant and nothing the mod could have somehow removed. Addison hadn’t been collared, because implantation wasn’t needed for his work, and he’d been taken and modded at such a young age, he never knew there was life beyond his job and dorm room.

Implanting might be dangerous and illegal, but tethering was neither. Tethering, while slower, meant being literally wired into another person’s brain, and utterly unpleasant. There were reasons tethering was used only in extreme cases such as his. He didn’t so much have a mentor as he had someone willing to use their brain to train his. There had been an insane amount of catching up to do. He’d managed it but barely, or so it felt some days. That wasn’t the literal truth; he’d progressed further than he’d imagined and owed it all to his aunts.

Yukiko said nothing to his fallacious statement, just raised an eyebrow. Finally, she said, “Do you know anything personal about this man you’re escorting?”

He shook his head, grateful for the change of subject. “Not really, only that I’m to transport him to the conference. I guess they don’t think it’s necessary for me to know much about him since I’m merely the pilot and bodyguard.”

“You could always find your answers by asking him.”

“I’m not sure I can. That’s why I wanted to learn more about the Sacred Kin. It appears I can speak to him, but you know how some races are. They have a huge amount of rules and protocols. The Fyrians don’t seem to, but their Kin are special. They’re said to have special abilities other Fyrians don’t.”

“How so?” Yukiko quirked up her eyebrows.

“Records aren’t clear on that. I’m not sure if it’s a secret, or if the Fyrians don’t give it a second thought and assume everyone else knows. I’m sure if I dig around longer, I could find out more, but I probably should go make sure the shuttle is fully stocked, especially if I’m going to be stuck in that tiny thing for days with a stranger.”

“Maybe I should give you something to mellow out that personality of yours.” Yukiko shot him an “I’m so innocent” look.

He rolled his eyes. “Why are you my friend?”

“Because I can put up with your dourness.” She stood and dug in her pocket for something. “Computer, Dr. Hayashi, going off duty,” she said loudly for the benefit of the ship’s computer.

“I thought you already were.”

“No, just checking on my favorite patient. Try not to get yourself taken apart this time. I’m getting tired of playing with the meat puzzles you make out of yourself.”

He huffed at her. “Never my plan to get hurt, but I am part of the ship’s tactical and security crew.”

“With a stunted sense of self preservation.”

He couldn’t argue. Drones like him were replaceable meat sacks to the corporations dirty enough to use them. Making friends and keeping himself alive were still relatively new concepts for him. “Maybe.”

“And if I was on duty, I couldn’t do this.” She bent over and tossed her arms around him, giving him a powerful hug. She held something odd in her hand, but he ignored it as he leaned into the embrace. Hugging he’d gotten used to. His aunts were huggers, and he found he liked the comfort of being in someone’s arms. He reached up and embraced her in kind.

When Yukiko let him go, she handed him a small brocaded silk pouch. “For you. Keep it on your person.”

He stared at the pouch and then tried to open it. Yukiko snatched it from his hand.

“Never open the pouch. It drains the power.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Inside the pouch is an omamori, a Shinto protective charm. I made the omamori for you. This one is a yaku-yoke for the avoidance of evil. They used to be issued by shrines. It’s more commercial these days, of course. Has been for centuries.” Yukiko shrugged. “I guess they’re remnants from a time long ago, but an omamori still means something to a lot of people.”

“Do you believe in this sort of thing?” Addison waggled the charm. “Are you Shinto?”

She stared at him for a moment. “You’ve never been interested in religion before, but I guess I am the one who brought it up. Yes, I do believe.”

Addison stood and put the charm in his rucksack. “I have no beliefs at all. I suppose I don’t have to tell you that. You know how I was raised before the captain took me in. I can’t say she’s particularly religious either, but thinking about the Sacred Kin has me wondering about how faith works.”

“I’m not sure you can approach it logically, Addy.”

He shrugged. “I have no other means in which to do it. For me, religion is an academic exercise. I don’t have enough time to really study the Fyrian religion, so I guess I’ll have to keep my mouth shut about that topic for most of the trip unless he brings it up. I could listen. I’m pretty good at that.”

“Sounds like a plan. All right, I’ll leave you to finish prepping for the trip. Hope it’s nice and boring and you come back safe.”

“Thanks.”

He hoped it would at least be more boring than Telsama.

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Meet the Author

Jana is Queen of the Geeks (her students voted her in), and her home and office are shrines to any number of comic book and manga heroes along with SF shows and movies too numerous to count. It’s no coincidence that the love of all things geeky has made its way into many of her stories. To this day, she’s disappointed she hasn’t found a wardrobe to another realm, a superhero to take her flying among the clouds, or a roguish starship captain to run off to the stars with her.

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Apr 29

New Release Blitz: Gotta Catch Her by Kelly Haworth (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Gotta Catch Her

Author: Kelly Haworth

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: April 29, 2019

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 34800

Genre: Contemporary, LGBT, contemporary, lesbian, bisexual, social/augmented reality gaming, kids, pets, sexting, workplace issues

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Synopsis

Who says phone games are only for kids? Sometimes they give just the respite you need from a hectic life. At least, that’s the way Ann feels about Ani-min Move, an AR mobile game full of cartoon animals caught with nets. Legendary raids have just launched, and Ann arrives at a nearby park to find it full of people of all ages playing the game, including Rachael, a kind, attractive single mom. And sweet! Rachael is more than willing to teach Ann the proper way to spin her nets to snag the raid boss.

Back in reality, Ann has a lot on her plate: a full workload as a project manager, finding the energy to walk her dog, Franny, and now trying to figure out if Rachael is queer. And how does Ann converse with Rachael about her six-year-old son when she doesn’t know a thing about parenting?

Ann is lost as to how to proceed until Rachael takes the guesswork out of the equation by proclaiming she’s bi—right when Ann gets a massive work assignment that consumes way too much of her time. Life/work balance was never Ann’s forte, but between caring for her sweetheart dog and figuring out how to navigate a relationship with a single parent, Ann’s determined to make it work, especially before Rachael gets cold feet and leaves Ann playing by herself.

So, collect those ultra-nets, Ann. Can you catch her?

Excerpt

Gotta Catch Her
Kelly Haworth © 2019
All Rights Reserved

Why did Ani-min Move have to launch new features on a weekday? The last thing I wanted to do when I got home from the office was immediately drag my ass back outdoors.

“I’m tired, Franny,” I said, putting my feet onto the coffee table, relieved to have them out of the little heels that were the curse of business casual. Frances cocked her head at me, her fluffy ears going askew. “But it looks like they’re launching legendary raids, and I am not missing that.”

After starting the update to my Ani-min Move app, I put down my phone while the update installed. Franny lowered her head to her paws and whined.

“I know, I know. A walk would be better than the apartment’s dog yard.”

Who knew eight hours at a desk would be so exhausting? But doing the same thing every day really grated on a person. Make sure this client has their order placed correctly. Keep that project running on time. Figure out why supplies are delayed. So much communication, so much organization, so much waiting.

I ran my fingers through my brunette hair, scratching my scalp and enjoying the ten seconds of silence.

At least, until Franny barked.

“Okay, honey. Let me get out of these slacks.”

I pushed myself to my feet and strode across the living room, wincing at the tumbleweeds of golden retriever fur under the kitchen table. This is why I’m single, I berated myself. Not that there’d be anyone datable over to see it, especially with my reluctance to use dating apps. And Sacramento was a big city, but dating was intimidating enough for me to hesitate in visiting downtown’s gay clubs. Besides, what would I wear?

I stripped out of my slacks and blouse, tossing them into the pile slowly accumulating on one side of my bedroom, and pulled on my comfy stretch pants and a bright pink tank top.

Oh, it was so tempting to collapse onto my side of the bed—avoiding the piles of fur where Franny slept on her side—and browse the internet or read until I fell asleep.

But that was one of the many reasons why I had Frances. Personal accountability. She got me out of the house every day, kept me walking and breathing fresh air.

“Okay girl, where’s your leash?”

The scramble of nails on the fake hardwood floors echoed down the hall as Franny dashed into the kitchen where she likely took position expectantly beneath the row of hooks for her leashes. I pushed feet into worn tennis shoes and picked up my phone. The update was complete, and I reopened my app, tapping past the screen welcoming me and advertising the new raids. The legendary cat Felesana would show up at local parks for me to battle with my friends! Yes, I got it. Show me where the closest one is. I brought up the augmented reality map, my character standing in the middle of the block my apartment complex resided on, and I tabbed over to the nearby raid window.

Franny let out a whine to remind me I hadn’t put on her leash yet, so I obliged her and giggled as her excitement ramped up from an eight to a twenty, all wagging tail and lolling tongue and shivering with eagerness.

“Honey, I’m so glad it’s this easy to make you happy.”

Heaven knew how hard it was to make people happy. “Where’s the product I ordered”—“Annabel, your surveys have come back less than perfect”—”I’m sorry, I can’t date a lesbian who used to date men”—

Yeah. I loved Franny. Dogs were woman’s best friend too. Not just man’s.

I grabbed my phone and my keys and gave Frances a pat.

“Looks like one of these big kitties is at the park three blocks away. Let’s go do our first legendary raid, girl.”

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Meet the Author

Kelly Haworth grew up in San Francisco and has been reading science fiction and fantasy classics since she was a kid. She has way too active an imagination, thus she channels it into writing. Kelly is nonbinary and pansexual and loves to write LGBTQIA characters into her work. In fact, she doesn’t know if she’ll ever be able to write a non-queer couple again. Kelly has degrees in both genetics and psychology and works as a project manager at a genetics lab. When not working or writing, she can be found wrangling her two kids, painting, or curled up on the couch with a good TV show or book.

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Apr 22

New Release Blitz: Where Song Replaces Silence by Layla Dorine (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Where Song Replaces Silence

Author: Layla Dorine

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: April 22, 2019

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 33300

Genre: Fantasy, LGBT, abduction, anger, Brownies, faeries, gay, hurt/comfort, mythical creatures, nymphs

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Synopsis

Raze halts his midnight joy ride to give chase to twinkling lights that appear in the road before him and then lead him deep into a forest, where he falls into another world. There, magic is real, wishes are granted, and no one is considered odd or out of place.

Raze has never fit in anywhere in his own world and uses his angry attitude to keep others at bay and mask his anxieties and fears in this new place. A dangerous combination in Loas, where rudeness is frowned upon and foul language can land him in a dungeon.

Rurin, an inhabitant of Loas, tries to teach Raze about their world, its magic and its residents, but he faces Raze’s stubborn resistance at every turn. Bitter about his past, pessimistic about his future, Raze sees what could be, but he struggles to accept it. In the meantime, his encounters with the Fae range from hostile sarcasm to potential danger. While he attempts to keep the promises he’s made to Rurin and follow the rules laid out for him, Raze grows more and more curious about the place where he’s landed. It’s too bad he keeps making poor choices.

As the connection between them grows, Rurin works to keep Raze from being banished, but Raze may be cast out of the Loas before he has the opportunity to discover the true reason he was led there in the first place.

Excerpt

Where Song Replaces Silence
Layla Dorine © 2019
All Rights Reserved

Heavy, the steady thud, thud, thud of the base rocked the back windows, and poured from the open driver’s side where the scent of rain flowed freely, mist lightly splashing on Raze’s face. “Four Rusted Horses” blared from a radio cranked so high the rain-covered glass vibrated with the force of the speakers’ efforts.

Thud, thud, thud, “forbidden…” Raze growled along, more snarl than song. Thud, thud, thud, “heaven…” Every word committed to memory. Thud, thud, thud, “useless…” Despite the slickness of the road, he drove with just two fingers, his free hand tapping out a beat on the shifter. Thud, thud, thud, “hell…” Glowing red numbers on the dash flipped from 2:59 to 3:00, the witching hour, the night so dark the headlights struggled to pierce the dim and fog.

The old Charger’s purr was a gospel choir of spark plugs and gears. His steel and chrome baby was the only thing in life Raze worked hard to care for. Some might even say he worshipped her power and speed, stroked her like a lover, and spent more than one night curled against the supple leather of her seats. He called her Rhea, after Saturn’s second largest moon. As a kid, he’d had a collection of beautiful photos of the ringed planet.

For most, this might have been motivation to aim high, study astrophysics or astronomy, anything that might put them closer to the cosmos. Not Raze. If he was behind the wheel, space and time were irrelevant; the world shrank, melted, and faded away. The song reached its crescendo, and he drummed along, eyes half closed as he pressed harder on the gas, felt the wind snarl and tug at his hair—sharp, like cold teeth. Tensing, he belted out the final verse, barely keeping Rhea on the road.

Exhilaration warred with exhaustion, the miles piling up for hours. A quick glance at the dash showed the gas tank was drifting below a fourth, dangerous territory when he had no clue where to find the nearest station. Common sense said he should have stopped at the last place he saw, but the rebel flags in the window made him wary. He’d always had a tough time understanding how people could hate someone so absolutely over something as simple as the color of their skin.

His own varied, based on how much time he spent in the sun. Most days, his skin glowed like the beach at sunrise, the sand shimmering a glowing golden hue. In the summer, though, his skin grew three shades darker, and if he wasn’t careful, a crop of freckles would appear splattered across his nose. He hated them as much as he hated the odd, three-toned hues of his hair, and how, no matter how many times he dyed the messy mane, he could never quite get his locks to turn out one color.

The long strands needed another treatment, the rich reds were like blood and rubies, or at least, that’s how a multitude of people had described the color over the years. A few, being kind, had likened the shade to fall leaves or a sunset, but kindness hadn’t been a common occurrence growing up. His so-called oddities had always made others uncomfortable. Funny, but ever since he’d learned the meaning of normal the idea had freaked the hell outta him. One of the many reasons he was still drifting.

Shit!

Slamming on the brakes, he jerked the wheel, sending Rhea spinning through the dancing green-gold figure appearing out of nowhere, swathed in a halo of lights. Somehow, despite the rows of waving trees, he got Rhea stopped without clipping one. His throat hurt, and his chest was pounding, lungs heaving as he sucked in air. Breathing and trying to relax the death grip on the wheel at the same time was a struggle. His fingers ached. Stiff and cramping, they refused to cooperate, no matter how hard he focused. Shaking, he collapsed against the wheel, the weight of his body sounding the horn, the echo a forlorn cry above the howling wind.

Shit shit shit shit shit

The only word he could formulate, shit, a mantra, running through his brain. There hadn’t been a thud. He hadn’t felt one, hadn’t heard one, meaning he’d missed them, right?

He didn’t want to look, but he knew he had to. Maybe they’d tripped, fallen, dived out of the way, rolled. They could be hurt, but not as bad as if he’d struck them with nearly two tons of metal. Swallowing, he told himself to man up, jerked his fingers free of their grip on the wheel, and sucked in a deep breath as he fumbled in the darkness for his phone. Three bars. Good, he could get them help if they needed it.

He fumbled with the door, got it open on the second try, and practically fell getting out, his body rebelling with every movement. For a moment, he stood in darkness, disoriented as he tried to figure out which direction he’d been coming from. When he spotted the twinkling green lights over the road, he blinked and stumble staggered toward the glowing apparition, watching the fragments of gold swirl and take shape, hovering, the form human, but not.

The fuck?

About fifty feet away, he could hear laughter, a mocking, teasing jangle of bell-like notes.

“You missed me, you missed me.”

Huh?

Squinting, he struggled to assess the situation, even as the words continued.

“Now you gotta kiss me.”

Oh, hell no. Either he was hallucinating, or he’d smacked his head on something. Either way, he was gonna wake up in a few minutes to darkness, a whining engine, and a pounding headache even the best painkillers wouldn’t cure.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he pressed his fingertips against his temples, counting to ten, but the laughter and singsong words continued.

“You think this is funny!” he roared, hands dropping to his sides, fingers curling into fists. He took a step forward and then another. “You could have gotten me killed; you could have fucked up my car; how fuckin’ stupid do you have to be, playing games out here in the middle of nowhere! Do you get off on fucking with people, huh? I swear to god, if there is a fuckin’ piston outta place in Rhea, you’re gonna pay to have her fixed.”

The laughter grew, even as he stalked the light. Only when he was within grasping range did it turn and flee toward the forest, glancing back every now and again to taunt him more.

“You can run, run, run, but when you’re done, you will never catch me.”

“Oh, you better believe Imma catch you, and when I do, Imma beat the sparkle offa you!” he screamed, crashing through the underbrush after it. It occurred to him, as he slipped and floundered, like as not, he was chasing swamp gas or some fucked-up idea of a joke involving holograms and projectors. They were probably sitting in a tree laughing at his stupidity. Didn’t stop him from continuing to give chase.

Tripping, he landed facedown in prickly brambles.

“FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!”

Yowling, he carefully tried to detangle himself while the laughter continued to grate on his nerves.

“Clumsy, aren’t we? My, my, my, that’s a very fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“Me? You’re the one who led me into this crap.”

“If you’d been faster, or smarter, perhaps you’d have used your wings, instead of stumbling around like a blind Alp-luachra searching for its next joint.”

“Wish I was sitting somewhere warm and dry smokin’ a joint right about now,” he grumbled beneath his breath, even as the sparkling flake of glittery light continued to cackle, twinkling like a firefly with every high-pitched note.

“Ah, but your wishes matter little to me. I lack the ability to grant them, and even if I could, I wouldn’t, until we’ve finished our game, though you are a poor, poor chaser. Perhaps you would be a better seeker. Shall I hide and see if you can find me?”

“Please don’t; actually, no, wait; please do. Yeah, that’s brilliant. You go hide, and I’ll come find you…in a century or two.”

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Meet the Author

Layla Dorine lives among the sprawling prairies of Midwestern America, in a house with more cats than people. She loves hiking, fishing, swimming, martial arts, camping out, photography, cooking, and dabbling with several artistic mediums. In addition, she loves to travel and visit museums, historic, and haunted places.

Layla got hooked on writing as a child, starting with poetry and then branching out, and she hasn’t stopped writing since. Hard times, troubled times, the lives of her characters are never easy, but then what life is? The story is in the struggle, the journey, the triumphs and the falls. She writes about artists, musicians, loners, drifters, dreamers, hippies, bikers, truckers, hunters and all the other folks that she’s met and fallen in love with over the years. Sometimes she writes urban romance and sometimes its aliens crash landing near a roadside bar. When she isn’t writing, or wandering somewhere outdoors, she can often be found

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Apr 22

New Release Blitz: SIO by C.A. Blocke (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: SIO

Author: C.A. Blocke

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: April 22, 2019

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 6360

Genre: Science Fiction, LGBT, humor, space pirates, scavengers, scientist, tech nerd, hurt-comfort, disabilities, abduction, captivity, tech nerd

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Synopsis

Set in a near-future environment, mega-corporations have taken over the most habitable of planets, creating domed utopias for their devoted employees. Everyone else has been shunted off to a multitude of mostly habitable planets and moons where they scrape by as farmers and tradesfolk, miners and merchants, bounty hunters and scavengers.

James Marks and his crew of scav trash operate their ship, SIO, on a mission to obtain a mysterious piece of new tech. It changes everything and leaves him stranded somewhere he doesn’t recognize with a cute, if not a bit annoying, tech scientist. James doesn’t know, when he first meets Michael, but his life is about to change in a very surprising way.

Excerpt

One: The Job
“You’re really going in alone?” Edge asked, leaning heavily against the console as James plugged in the coordinates. “I thought you promised Lyra you weren’t doing jobs alone anymore after that last big fuckup.”

James rolled his eyes and sighed. “What Lyra don’t know won’t hurt her. You and your sister are wanted on every planet in Corporate Space, and I’m not about to lose the only good pilot we’ve got by taking Corin along for the ride. Besides, I’m fluent in bullshit. I’ll be fine.”

Edge laughed and drew his oversized ElectroPistol before shoving it toward James’s chest. “You’re gonna need this. They set up scanners every few kilometers to catch travelers with old-school bullets.”

“You know I’ve got one.” James smirked, opening his dark-brown duster to show off his special design. “And mine’s overclocked.”

“Show-off.”

Edge and his sister, Razor, had been on the ship’s crew since day one, and far too many crew members had been lost one way or another since. To be fair, James knew Edge had a point. The duster was a bit of a showpiece, but even in Corporate Space, they could appreciate fine leatherwork.

Quietly, Razor added, “Careful where you’re scanning with that eye, boss. Peach detection is sensitive to all TechEyes.”

James blinked several times, self-conscious at the reminder of his less-than-human status. After fifteen years on the outer ring, he was starting to feel less man than machine. An eye, a leg, and a full neural interface later, who really could say he wasn’t? “Yes, mother.” James sighed, offering another fond roll of the eyes. “Believe me, I’m in and out. The last place I want to hang out is a Peach Corp research and development office.”

“Eye on the prize.” Edge nodded, clapping a meaty hand on James’s back. “Corin’ll leave the engines running for ya.”

Getting in wasn’t hard; a flash of the badge the client had provided and a few sideways glances at James’s generally unkempt appearance, and he was walking the halls toward the mark’s office. Thankfully, R&D didn’t have half the security protocol most Corporate offices had, and as far as they cared, the dark-haired man in a duster and pressed shirt was Mr. Marquis Benton, in the flesh. However, the short middle manager staring him down didn’t exactly seem convinced.

“So, Mr. Benton, is it?” he asked, stroking his fingers through professionally cropped blond hair before taking off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. “And you are here for?”

“I was told the communique was sent days ago,” James bluffed, crossing his arms and giving the manager, Michael, a critical look. “The Rose prototype. It’s being called up for Corporate preview.”

“Well, as much as I’d love to have one less piece of useless technology to deal with, it’s not ready. I never received this…communique…you’re talking about.” Michael’s brow furrowed as he slipped his glasses back on; the frustration apparent on his face was adorable at the very least.

“Fine. Fine.” James leaned in, glancing over the man’s badge to grab a name, only to feel his TechEye activate to read it through the soft fold of his worn blazer. “It’s all right, Michael. I’ll deal with your supervisor.”

“I am the supervisor at this facility.” Michael frowned, shaking his head. “And if that crappy old TechEye wasn’t such a piece of outdated shit running firmware from ten years ago, you would have been able to pull up my personnel file and would know that.”

It wasn’t quite the same as being caught red-handed, and security wasn’t swarming the office yet, so there was that much hope. “Hey, you know how crappy the pay is for runners. I haven’t exactly been able to keep up on the latest and greatest.” James shrugged, and then stepped closer, ready to make a move, if justified. “Besides, I don’t like all that clutter in my HUD. All I need is to get this prototype to my boss.” It was a fair enough statement; the heads-up display on the older chip software was much less cluttered with information of various levels of situational importance. In the long run, it made it difficult to parse the large amount of information that wasn’t actually in front of his eyes but tended to render him at least distracted when it came up.

Michael stood, one hand on his black leather belt and the other casually planted against his desk. “The new heads-up display is actually quite streamlined by comparison, especially if you have the visual upgrade.” He shifted on his feet and, after a moment’s pause, dropped his gaze down to the litter of papers and scraps on his desk. “Look, okay… I don’t know who you are or how you got in here, but contrary to popular belief, just because I’m in R&D, I’m not a fucking idiot. The Rose is classified, and you’ve done absolutely nothing to make me believe you should even be here.”

James had been in worse situations, which really said quite a lot about his chosen profession. He put on his best smile and leaned across Michael’s desk, drawing eyes back up to him. “I’ll level with you, Michael. There was no communique, okay? I know I’m sort of jumping the gun here, but bringing back the Rose and blowing the bigwigs’ minds with it pretty much guarantees a promotion that…uh…well, I need. And I know you’ve got zero reason to believe a word I’m saying, but I can definitely put in a good word for the new head of R&D.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed behind his thin spectacles, and James felt his heart rate raise enough to hear the blood pounding in his ears. Lying was no big thing, but pulling shit in a Peach facility was a damn bold move for someone not looking to end up in a prison colony for the rest of their short, crappy life. Finally, Michael said, “Head of R&D? You have that kind of power? I thought you said you were a runner.”

“A runner for someone with more power than both of us combined. With the right offering, I could do quite a lot”—James whispered, licking his lower lip for dramatic effect, if not sheer nerves—“with a little help from a certain smart and handsome developer.”

A long moment passed, and James realized exactly how that statement had come off. Fortunately, Michael seemed to buy it, and James wasn’t really lying—for everything his bookish appearance gave off, Michael was handsome in a sort of cute tech-nerd kind of way. Michael sighed and shook his head, drawing back. “You’ve got a silver tongue, Marquis. And, I guess I’m just sick of looking at the stupid thing,” he muttered under his breath, heading toward the door James had come in. “I have to get it from the lab; they’re working on it today.”

“Of course, of course.” James feigned a laugh while following him back into the corridor and through the honeycomb of hallways and nondescript rooms toward the lab.

Michael scanned his card and then turned back to face him. “Wait here.”

There was a delicate dance—James couldn’t wait too long out in the open without being checked by security, who would likely figure out his papers were fake, within a few seconds, but he also had to offer Michael the benefit of the doubt, lest his true intention be made even clearer. He nodded and casually folded his arms over his chest, gently patting the pistol concealed within his coat. Beyond the door, he couldn’t see much more than several bodies in white suits with blank faces moving quietly around, and then he was alone in the corridor.

Ten minutes and one close call with security passed, and James couldn’t stop himself from attempting to listen at the door, to no avail. Daring the chance of getting caught, he fumbled out the jack in his coat pocket, connecting it to the keypad first and then directly to the port behind his left ear. Hacking was dangerous in the best possible circumstances. Getting caught was almost a certainty, but the cybernetic jack made it a little simpler to do something as innocuous as jimmying a lock—hell, James had practically grown up forcing locks with or without technological assistance. Unfortunately, Razor wasn’t wrong about Peach Corp being on top of outside tech in their systems. The lock gave, after only a few moments of forcing the code, the door opened, and the first thing James saw after pulling the jack free at both ends in one yank was security coming right for him.

“What are you doing in here?” Michael shouted as James rushed into the room, slamming the door behind him. A steel case was open on a large table, a small purple rose made of circuits and glass seated in a holding point fixed inside the case.

“Okay, so here’s the thing…” James stammered, letting the words come as his most useful form of self-preservation. “There are at least three guys with ElectroPistols on the other side of that door, and I really need to leave with this prototype, so if you could close that case, I’ll be heading out now.”

“It’s not ready!” Michael answered, lifting the safety goggles from around his glasses and tossing them on the floor with an angry sigh. “Do you even know anything about the Rose? You have got to be the most ignorant—”

James cut him off for lack of time more than anything, snapping the case closed. “I may have to use you as a human shield…no worries; ElectroPistols don’t hurt nearly as bad as the real thing.” He was well aware it sounded bad, but to the best of his knowledge, as long as the person being shot didn’t have too many cybernetic parts, the blasts weren’t usually deadly. James grabbed Michael’s elbow, thankful he was a little lighter and a good deal shorter than most.

They made it two steps to the door, and when James touched the latch, a loud popping noise was accompanied by a rush of heat, and everything went black.

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Meet the Author

C.A. Blocke is a thirty-something writer who’s been captivated by the magic of how people relate to each other for as long as she can remember. Far more than overarching drawn-out plots, she prefers to focus heavily on relationships in various situations that feel like real life—even when at its most surreal. Real Life, she feels, is messy and complicated, and that shines through in her fiction where the road to a happy ending frequently isn’t just a straight line. A long-time reader and writer of fluffy character-driven pieces, her style tends to highlight small slices of life that come together to form a whole picture of the plot.

She is a gender nonconforming, demisexual-identified female who feels most comfortable writing unconventional relationships involving non-heterosexual couplings. Sexual identity often colors her works and features heavily in finding the comfortable place where identities can collide with minimal friction. She enjoys exploring different takes on ‘acceptable’ sexuality and blurring the lines between what is expected and what really happens.

A small-town Arizona native, the Southwest and its rural communities fascinate her—particularly the rigid-identity politics and the ramifications of breaking the social norm. Of course, that’s not to say that she doesn’t also enjoy writing about urban life and the various challenges present in the big city. While most at home writing contemporary romance with a warm little erotica twist, she’s very prone to following her muse down the dark alleys and open valleys it drags her through—making it nearly impossible to know just what genre will take her interest next.

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Apr 22

New Release Blitz: Fruits of the Gods by William C. Tracy (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: Fruits of the Gods

Author: William C. Tracy

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: April 22, 2019

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: No Romance

Length: 110200

Genre: Fantasy, LGBT, Fantasy, other-world, family-drama, magic users, elements, slave, lesbian, trans, sisters, ghosts, spirits

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Synopsis

Sisters Kisare and Belili uproot an ancient box in their owner’s orchard and find a miracle inside: a fifth godfruit in a society that knows only four. It is punishable by death for non-nobles to eat godfruit, so the sisters hide the discovery and plot to escape servitude for good. With the power represented in the box, they could live as nobles themselves.

But Kisare finds her new freedom more difficult than she imagined, and Belili has many secrets she strives to keep hidden. With the help of a people slowly losing their culture and technology to the powerful nobles, the sisters lead an infiltration of the highest levels of noble society.

While Kisare finds she cares for the captured leader of the people helping them, Belili comes to love her noble suitor’s guard—a fierce woman with a similar past to her own. In the end, the fifth godfruit may bring harmony to the world, but the sisters’ only hope of succeeding lies in deciphering ancient mythologies surrounding the gods’ original plan for their people.

Excerpt

The gods made mortals as their servants but freed them when they became troublesome to keep. When, against all odds, the mortals prospered on their own, the gods thought to bribe them with gifts to gain their worship.

It was the mistress’s third miscarriage. Kisare knelt beside Bel, both sisters digging the hole to accept the little bundle. The solitary malus tree above them would take the grim fertilizer for its magical harvest.

She could feel the master’s eyes on her back, and Shuma’s, the guard captain. The mistress in her litter, two guards, and three slaves holding torches filled out their party. The flickering glow guttered over the little hole.

The ground resisted Kisare’s chipped spade, and her breath misted as she dug. Moonlight shone on her and Bel through new leaves of the malus tree, standing alone between rows of grapevines. She brushed back long hair, bleached somewhere between silver and white, taking only a second to eye the bundle at the mistress’s feet. The noble blood the child would add to the malus’s harvest did nothing to offset Aricaba-Ata’s frustration. The master doted on his new young wife.

Bel’s spade landed with a hollow thunk. Curious, Kisare dug next to her sister. Something was buried here. She could see no detail in the dark but knew better than to alert their master. It might be valuable. Kisare saw Bel’s eyes locked on the dark corner of the grave. Her spade stabbed underneath, prying the thing up.

Kisare knocked her sister’s arm away, then dug at the opposite end of the hole. Bel took the hint and, frowning, plunged her spade in with too much force. It bounced off a rock, throwing dirt in Kisare’s face. She spit out grit tasting of iron and fertilizer.

Aricaba-Ata, next to his grieving wife, pointed one finger. Torchlight highlighted the parted lock of red in his white-blond hair. Shuma stepped forward at the gesture. The freeman guard captain was a natural blond, no streaks of magical color in his tight curls. Nor was his hair bleached, as Kisare’s and Bel’s was.

“What was that sound? What did you hit?” Shuma towered above them, the biggest man Kisare had ever seen, rumored to be the disowned son of a neighboring noble.

“It was nothing,” Kisare answered, thinking furiously.

“It was something, blond,” he answered, unlimbering the whip at his side.

Kisare’s back tensed, her shirt scratching against the raised scars. She had to answer. Mortal hands had buried something here. What could she get from offering up the prize? Not as much as keeping the knowledge from the master.

Bel was watching her face, spade poised. “It was a wood—”

“Root,” Kisare finished for her. She pointed at her last mistake, rather than the treasure. It would give meaning to her hesitation.

“See,” she said. “I nicked a root.” It was visible as a glistening wet spot in the moonlight.

The master came forward and peered into the small hole. It wouldn’t harm the tree in the long run, but it was still a slave’s error.

Kisare kept the scream in as the whip drew a line of fire across her back.

“Keep digging,” Aricaba-Ata said. “Do not injure my tree further. It is worth far more than your life, blond. I do not need added trouble.” He stepped back to his wife in her litter, his face blending into shadow.

Kisare put her head down and dug, her back burning. Cold air washed down her spine through a rent in her thin shirt, stark against the hot wetness. Bel followed, digging deliberately. Kisare shifted to a more comfortable position, hoping to keep her shirt from touching the bleeding wound. She didn’t wish her sister to feel the whip but wondered if Aricaba-Ata would have punished Bel the same way. Her sister’s gift for pruning godfruit trees excused her from all but the worst transgressions. Almost all. Kisare glanced down to Bel’s incomplete left hand, resting by the grave.

They finished the hole well enough to please the master, keeping away from where the object was buried. They placed the small bundle by the guard’s torchlight and filled in the dirt. Kisare took a moment to breathe—not long enough to bring Shuma’s whip down, but enough to pull a ragged shawl around her shoulders. She sucked in a breath as it brushed her wounded back. Bel could look at it later. Kisare shivered into the shawl, sweat from digging chilling her. The malus tree was past harvest, and the season was on the cusp of spring. It was the in-between time when even citrons were scarce, and everyone scrimped on godfruit.

Bel helped her to her feet, and Kisare and her sister placed the name-rail in the fence around the tree, under the master’s watchful eye. There were five other name-rails already inscribed, two from the previous miscarriages, and one from Aricaba-Ata’s first wife, Tiamai. The fever had taken her three years ago. Stumps of long-dead malus trees stood nearby, breaking rows of leafless grapevines with their own rotting name-rails. The grapes—normal fruit—were sold to market or made into wine.

“Girl,” Aricaba-Ata directed her, “clean the birthing room before you sleep.” He put an arm around his trembling wife in her litter and kissed her forehead. “Take her back,” he directed the three slaves holding the litter. The other guard left with them, leaving a torch with Shuma.

Aricaba-Ata came forward, taking a slightly wrinkled malus slice from his tunic. Kisare watched, slowly cleaning the dirt from her and Bel’s spades, making time. Aricaba-Ata pushed one red lock—magic gifted from the four gods of the seasons—behind his ear, as he popped the malus in his mouth. Kisare saw the shudder that took his body as he bit down, traces of lightning coursing down his arms, illuminating the darkness. She drank in the display.

Aricaba-Ata stepped close to the new-cut naming rail and lifted his right forefinger. Orange light bloomed in the night; a single pillar of flame. He drew a line of fire across the rail, charring in the name given his stillborn son: Aricaba-Tir. By the time he finished marking the rail, Kisare could see his jaw moving in the few last flickers of lightning as he tried to draw the last bit of juice from the godfruit’s flesh. This far up in the mountains, away from the capital city of Karduniash, and near the ring of devastation the nobles called the Blasted Lands, her master would waste none of the magical juice.

Kisare spun at her sister’s cough, but not fast enough. She had forgotten to clean the spade while watching.

Aricaba-Ata’s backhanded swipe caught her across the face and she fell to the ground, her head bouncing. “Be on your way, girl,” he huffed.

Kisare put a finger to her split lip and made the mistake of raising her eyes. This time the blow laid her flat out, darkening her vision.

She scrambled to her knees, slightly dizzy, but kept her gaze down. She probed a loose tooth with her tongue. What had he said? His blow had knocked the sense from her.

“I’ll—I’ll clean the birthing room now, by your leave, master.” Bel’s hand gripped her sleeve, supporting. Aricaba-Ata’s cold eyes were still on her, she knew.

“You can take Tashi’s place filling the latrines tomorrow before your other duties, to remind you not to get ideas above your place.”

She bolted, Bel close behind. The blood in her mouth and on her back were worth the secret buried under the malus tree.

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Meet the Author

William C. Tracy is a North Carolina native and a lifelong fan of science fiction and fantasy. He has a master’s in mechanical engineering, and has both designed and operated heavy construction machinery. He has also trained in Wado-Ryu karate since 2003, and runs his own dojo. He is an avid video and board gamer, a reader, and of course, a writer. In his spare time, he wrangles three cats. He and his wife enjoy putting their pets in cute little costumes and making them cosplay for the annual Christmas card.

He is the author of the Dissolutionverse, about a series of homeworlds connected by music-based magic instead of space flight.

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elements, family drama, Fantasy, ghosts, Lesbian, LGBT, magic users, other-world, sisters, Slave, spirits, Trans
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Apr 22

Book Blitz: A Summer’s Day: Shakespearean Anthology with a Twist by Various Authors (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Filed under Book Blitz, Giveaways

Title: A Summer’s Day: Shakespearean Anthology with a Twist

Author: Various Authors

Publisher: Self – Published

Release Date: August 12, 2016

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 115 K (12 short stories)

Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Young Adult

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Synopsis

We’re celebrating Shakespeare’s legacy with this collection of 12 stories based on his works and the way they are often woven into our lives. The twist is that all stories are MM. There are modern retellings of some plays, interpretations of others and one of the sonnets, and delightful referencing of anything Shakespeare.

There is gentle YA romance next to hot sexy stories and all kinds of relationships – first love, May/December, interracial, second chances, happy endings and even a tragic one.

We’re traveling from Ancient Rome through Renaissance England to modern day UK, Venice Beach and other places in USA, Vancouver and Havana.

There’s fun, drama, tears, angst, joy and, above all, lots of true love.

DEEPER THAN DID EVER PLUMMET SOUND
Rory Ni Coileain
Clarence Limont is a slowly fading star of the London stage; convinced his great performances are all behind him, he nevertheless agrees to play Prospero in an off-off-Broadway production of The Tempest helmed by an old friend.
Jaymes Stafford is the production’s starry-eyed Ariel, waking feelings Clarence had thought long dead and buried.
But the poisonous jealousy of other members of the cast may steal the stars from Jaymes’ eyes, and even put paid to Clarence’s illustrious career.
(“The Tempest”)

A FINE LINE BETWEEN
Louise Lyons
When Romeo runs into Julian on the beach, he’s the last person he wants to see as he’s grown up hating him due to his parents’ aversion to Julian’s dad.
Forced to rescue Julian from the sea, Romeo is surprised by his grudging attraction to the other young man.
When simple lust becomes something more, the pair ignore their parents’ anger, but family fights drive the lovers away from home – into a horrifying incident. Will it make the Montgomerys and the Caplins rethink their feud?
(“Romeo and Juliet”)

THE DEVIL AND THE LION
Asta Idonea
Caius Martius and Tullus Aufidius have long been enemies.
Then Martius arrives on Aufidius’ doorstep, seeking a military alliance. Aufidius accepts; however, he wishes their partnership to extend from the battlefield to the bedchamber.
His lust for Martius is one of the reasons he spares his life, but his jealousy will soon have terrible consequences.
(“Coriolanus”)

KISS ME, KADE
Nephy Heart
Kade is in trouble, negotiating a dangerous path between an authoritarian father and wayward sister.
Then Pete storms into his life and tries to take over.
It can only end in disaster.
(“Taming of The Shrew”)

IF MUSIC BE…
Charlie Cochrane
Rick Cowley finds himself taking up am-dram once more, thinking it’ll help him get over the death of his partner.
He’d never anticipated it would mean an encounter with an old flame and the sort of emotional complications the Bard would have reveled in.
Still, old Will had the right word for every situation, didn’t he?
(“Twelfth Night”)

TWO GUYS FROM VANCOUVER
Dianne Hartsock
Valentine has been watching Preston date man after man with never more than a brotherly hug for him.
Finally, despairing that Preston will ever love him in return, Val moves away to college, where he meets the glorious Silver, a man with problems of his own, who just might be his answer.
Torn between his attraction to Preston and his growing desire for Silver, Val wonders if he’ll ever find love or will his life become as tragic as any of the Shakespearean plays he loves so well.
(“The Two Gentlemen of Verona”)

WHEN I LOVE THEE NOT
Rian Durant
Desmond, the heir of a business owner is outed in the media after a hot night with his lover, Olvin, who also happens to be the company’s best negotiation expert.
This is only the first step in Ian’s plan to get back at Olvin for choosing Michel Caswell as a main assistant for the latest merger instead of him, a plan in which he’s moving everybody around like pawns on a chessboard, bending the rules.
Will Ian drive a wedge between Desmond and Olvin and get the position he wants or will he realize that there’s something more important that stops the world from turning into chaos?
(“Othello”)

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE BEACH
Kathy Griffith
Tony and Bartholomew have been friends for years, but his latest request is a little much.
Bart needs a loan to impress Porsche Keller, a personable billionaire, but the only cash available is from banker and raging homophobe Sherlock Palmer, who has a devious plan for them.
Will our heroes find love and get their happy ending?
(“The Merchant of Venice”)

A HERO’S LAST BATTLE
Phetra H Novak
Claudio is happy to be home after serving his country as a soldier for over fifteen years being stationed mostly abroad ready to settle down.
Hero is still living at home, together with his father, trying to do what is expected a young man his age is supposed to do, work and live every day like it is your last.
The two men meet at a family wedding, realizing they share a mutual dream of finding love and starting a family but evil lurks amongst them. Will these two lovers find a way to be together?
(“Much Ado About Nothing”)

NOTHING LIKE THE SUN
JL Merrow
Hollywood darling Jerome Winter always defined himself by his looks—until a fire destroyed them.
His oldest friend and still-loyal manager, Sam, has long carried a torch for him, but with his looks—and earning power—gone, what does Jerome have left to offer?
(Sonnet 130)

THE SUN OF TOMORROW
M. LeAnne Phoenix
When actor Koray Shepherd rescues writer Winter Sirois from the brutal hands of his supervisor, Winter never would have believed the beautiful Turk would share his love of The Bard.
When Koray asks Winter out on a date, Winter takes center stage in his very own tragedy, determined to end his play for today with a happily ever after.
Screwing his courage to the sticking place, Winter sets his sights on the future and Koray… but when the horrors of yesterday resurface, will he crest the waves of fear and despair, or will he be heard no more?
(“Macbeth”)

MUCH ADO ABOUT LADY MACBETH
Rebecca Cohen
Competition for roles is always high when the King’s Men put on a play, but David seems to come up against Jacob time and time again, no matter what part he is auditioning for.
But now they both want to be Lady Macbeth and it’s more than simple rivalry that causes the sparks to fly.
(Shakespeare’s Theatre)

And as all the world’s a stage we do hope that one day very soon all the world will be a place for everybody to love whomever they want to love and feel safe.

All proceeds of this collection go to the It Gets Better Project. By reading this book you become part of the hope for a better future of the LGBT youth.

Purchase at Amazon

Excerpts

A Fine Line Between by Louise Lyons

“I’m sorry.” I never thought I’d say such a thing to him, but as I listened to him, I wondered why we’d despised each other so much on the strength of something our parents did. We’d been little kids, just starting school, conditioned to loathe each other because of our families’ hatred.

“Not your fault, is it?” Julian’s voice shook and he moved away, initially heading toward Laura and Steve, but then changing direction.

“Hey!” I hurried after him. I caught up to him and gestured to mine and Steve’s towels. “I meant I’m sorry for being a dick. You’re right. It was never anything to do with us. I suppose listening to my dad go on about it made me feel the same. I don’t know why my parents even stayed together. They’re sort of friends, but that’s all. I think Mum just likes the security of Dad’s money. I know for a fact they’ve seen other people on and off. They don’t even try to hide it from me. Sit down.”

“Just like that? Suddenly you want to be friends?” His expression was wary.

“Hardly.” My lips twitched. “But since I saved your life, I suppose I can’t hate you that much.”

“Saved my life, bollocks. I’d have been all right.”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.” I grinned and sat down, surprised by my sudden change in attitude. Glancing at him, I noticed for the first time how attractive he was with his reddish-blond hair and bright blue eyes. Tanned skin glistened with droplets of water and a light dusting of golden hair spread across his chest. I hadn’t seen him since high school and he’d been skinny, pimply, and ginger then.

When I Love Thee Not by Rian Durant

“Hey, was that Michael talking to Des in the garden?”

Ian had managed to take Olvin right on time to a spot where he could see the two talking, but it seemed Michael had seen them as well and promptly took his leave. Which, of course, made him look even more guilty.

“Yes, I think it was but why would he steal away like that?

“Hm!”

The sound made the Cuban turn around and stare at him.

“What was that about?”

He paused dramatically, and gazed again at Desmond who had taken his book and looked as innocent as new fallen snow.

“Tell me, did Michael know you had an affair with Des before the… you know, before everybody found out?”

Clearly, the man didn’t like being reminded of this and winced before replying.

“Yes, he knew. I even asked Michael to give him a present and chocolates from me once or twice as he lives closer to their house and could see him more often while we were hiding.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Why?”

He looked at the Cuban who seemed utterly confused. He’d never seen him like this with the meanest experts in negotiations, with those who were capable of convincing you to sell yourself by the small print in their contracts and make you tie a ribbon around your head for their pleasure. He was swift and efficient in curbing their desires to trick him, but now he was lost.

“Why, think for a minute.”

Two Guys from Vancouver by Dianne Hartsock

VAL TOOK A long drink from the thermos, enjoying the cool bite of lemon and vodka on his tongue, the alcohol content exactly enough to send a pleasant tingle along limbs already lethargic from hours in the sun and sea air.

“Hey, share.”

“Sure.” Val handed over the bottle, his gaze lingering on his best friend, his heart rushing. Preston’s skin was bronzed from months in the summer sun, his board shorts hugging muscular thighs and the large cock Val knew lay hidden under the bright fabric. He wanted to lick a path down Preston’s glistening chest, knowing he’d taste of sweat and sea salt.

Preston swallowed a mouthful of the Lemon Drop and sputtered, laughing as he licked the stray drops from his lips. “Shit! That stuff’s potent.”

A shiver ran through Val. If he moved only a few inches he could be kissing the mouth that had been driving him wild all summer. And by the gleam in Preston’s brown eyes, he wouldn’t object, either. A shout on the still air shattered Val’s dream and he pulled away, scowling at the bottle Preston handed back to him. Julian approached them up the beach; Preston’s latest boyfriend, lithesome, lightly tanned, with gorgeous blond hair cascading to his shoulders.

Val hated him. Problem was, Julian was great, always laughing, genuinely kind. If it wasn’t for the fact he was fucking Preston, they would most likely be good friends. Julian plopped down beside Preston and Val sighed. Probably for the best he was moving from Vancouver to Portland in the morning. The two cities were only nine miles apart, but it would take him out of Preston’s orbit.

Much Ado About Lady Macbeth by Rebecca Cohen

SURELY DAVID WAS not the only one who could see Jacob’s complete lack of talent. Jacob might be pretty enough to pass as Juliet, in the right light and squinting, but the minute the petulant popinjay opened his mouth his ineptitude had to be clear to all. How Jacob had ever become a player in the King’s Men was beyond David’s comprehension. He seethed quietly to himself as he watched Jacob prance from one side of the stage to the other, supposedly a sprightly fairy but looking more like he was suffering from ague. David clicked his tongue in annoyance as Jacob fumbled his words.

A soft sigh to his right made him turn to see his friend Gwilliam shake his head. “What?” David demanded.

“You grind your teeth so loudly I thought it was a carpenter at work. Yet, the reason for it is so absurd you cannot see the ridiculousness from where you are, deep in your cave of wilful denial.”

“Denial? What gibberish knots your tongue?”

Gwilliam tutted and returned to reading the pamphlet he was holding. “Your animosity for Jacob is no more real than the fairy he is currently playing.”

David spluttered, almost swallowing his tongue at the implication of Gwilliam’s words. A “shush” from the stage prevented him from answering and he sank lower in his seat, his gaze fixed on the annoying Jacob and his annoyingly perfect bottom. David couldn’t grumble about the importance of his role, but thought he should be playing Titania, not the dull-witted Helena. A pining maiden was no match for the queen of the fairies.

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Synopsis

And as all the world’s a stage we do hope that one day very soon all the world will be a place for everybody to love whomever they want to love and feel safe.

All proceeds of this collection go to the It Gets Better Project. By reading this book you become part of the hope for a better future of the LGBT youth.

Purchase at Amazon

Excerpts

Visit with the authors on April 28th in Rian’s Reading Room on Facebook!

Giveaway

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