Dec 24

New Release Blitz: Finding Aurora by Rebecca Langham (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Finding Aurora

Author: Rebecca Langham

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: December 24, 2018

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 20500

Genre: Fantasy, royalty, magic, action, fantasy, fairy tale

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Synopsis

Aurora Rose slumbers in the city of Oldpass, a cursed kingdom once allied with Grimvein. The victim of a malicious spell, she is powerless to control her own fate. At least, that’s how the story goes.

Now, as Grimvein faces attack, Prince Amir has been tasked with the life-threatening rescue of Aurora, his parents hopeful he will marry the princess and secure safety for their kingdom. Talia, the strongest spellcaster in the known lands, protects and guides the prince in his quest to save a woman that threatens to change their lives forever.

In finding Aurora, the pair will realise the truth about themselves and each other, coming to understand just what—and who—they really want in life.

Excerpt

Finding Aurora
Rebecca Langham © 2018
All Rights Reserved

I doubt there was even one person in Grimvein who hadn’t heard the story of the sleeping princess. There were those who claimed she’d died a century ago and the curse was merely a story to maintain hope of her well-being. Amir and I knew better. Somewhere beneath the layers of magic and goddess-knew-how-many demonic guardians in Oldpass, Princess Aurora Rose slept. The problem was getting to her.

“Looks like the map was accurate.” Amir tucked the frayed parchment inside his leather vest and then stepped closer to the colossal boulder in front of us. “This entry is well concealed. Most people would walk right by without realising.”

I had to agree. We were deep within the forest to the east of Oldpass. The path we’d been following for over a week had disappeared hours earlier, replaced by mossy undergrowth and grasses. The sweet scent of drenched wisteria had been overpowering, though not as overpowering as the menacing darkness that seemed to swallow natural sounds one would expect to hear in such a place. No birds twittering. No dripping condensation. Not even so much as a rustling branch. If not for Amir’s orienteering skill and the importance of our quest, I’d have turned back.

“Does it open the old-fashioned way, Highness?” I indicated the door with my chin. Embedded in the rock and camouflaged, the ingress was almost unnoticeable, but we could make out the bevelled edges.

I sensed no magic surrounding the rock formation, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any. I might have been one of the strongest casters in the five kingdoms, but I was still mortal. There’s only so much one person confined by flesh can know. Or see. Or do.

Amir ran his hand through his shoulder-length black hair. His rather wonderful, lustrous, shoulder-length black hair.

“Let’s see.” He pressed both his palms against the smooth surface, bracing his feet against the leaf-covered ground. Something whirred deep inside the boulder and clicked as though a latch had been released. He stepped back as the rectangular slab skulked off to the side, like a sword disappearing into its sheath. “It appears the answer would be yes, it does open the old-fashioned way. Sort of.”

“I must admit, I had my doubts.”

“As did I,” he replied, scratching at the stubble on his chin. In all the years I’d been acquainted with the prince, he’d always been clean-shaven, and the rugged growth on his face, as charming as it looked, seemed to irritate him more and more. “It seems too convenient there could be an underground passage that would take us beneath the outer walls.” His hands held on to the rock as he leaned forward, peering inside. His soft leather boots gripped his defined calves as he did. “It’s quite dark in here. Do you have that magnificent bauble of yours?” He withdrew from the opening and turned to face me.

I gaped at him. “Prince Amir, the moonbeam stone is no mere bauble. And yes, of course I do. I’ll let the honour of first entry be yours.”

He bowed slightly, his hand over his heart. “Why, thank you, caster.” He returned his attention to the opening. “In we go.”

I followed him closely as we left the fresh air and crunching leaves of the forest behind. Inside, the darkness was thick and the air acrid. I slipped my moonbeam stone out of a pouch clipped to my belt. With a thought, I willed it to life. A soft yellow light emanated from the stone.

“Oh no,” I said. As though the enclosed room had heard me, the door behind us slid outward from its cavity, closing fast and hard.

“It seems we’re trapped.” Typical Amir. Always so calm. He walked around the room. “But surely there is a way from here into the tunnel. This must be a kind of annex.” I admired the fact that no matter how hopeless or scared Amir might have felt, he was always able to focus on the task at hand, putting his feelings aside until a more appropriate time presented itself.

“Mmmhmm.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, willing away the tension that had taken up residence there. I grabbed the small flask attached to my belt, just above my left hip. The water soothed my throat and afforded a distraction from the momentary sense of panic.

“Talia, I need your help over here,” Amir said. His voice was steady, but the shade of his cheeks betrayed bubbling anxiety.

“Yes, Highness.” I took one more sip of water from my flask, clipped it onto my leather belt, and wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. By the goddess, that place was hot. I wondered if we might have found the first level of the underworld rather than the subterranean passageway into Oldpass.

“That’s twice in as many minutes,” Amir said, gently elbowing me as I joined him. “I keep telling you to stop calling me that. We’ve been travelling together for over two weeks. The formalities are unnecessary by now, wouldn’t you agree?” He smiled, and I couldn’t help but smile back. As the Leading Caster of Grimvein, I’d been assigned to help Amir on a journey the public needed to believe he’d taken on his own. So far, my magical services had been of little use, aside from starting a few campfires when we were especially impatient to eat our evening meal.

“Yes, Highness.” I bit my lower lip. “Amir. Sorry, it’s a force of habit.”

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Meet the Author

Rebecca Langham lives in the Blue Mountains (Australia) with her partner, three children, and menagerie of pets. A Xenite, a Whovian and all-round general nerd, she’s a lover of science fiction, comic books, and caffeine. When she isn’t teaching History to high schoolers or wrangling children, Rebecca enjoys playing broomball and reading.

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Dec 17

New Release Blitz: I Am the Storm by Tash McAdam (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  I Am the Storm

Series: The Psionics, Book One

Author: Tash McAdam

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: December 17, 2018

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: No Romance

Length: 64500

Genre: Science Fiction, espionage, spies, military, young adult, lesbian, pansexual, trans

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Synopsis

Keep your head down. Don’t look anyone in the eye. Never even think about technology if one of those ghostly, grey cars is sliding silently down the road. They’ll see the thoughts inside you, if you let them.

Sam’s a technopath, able to control electronic signals and manipulate technology with his mind. And so, ever since childhood, his life has been a carefully constructed web of lies, meant to keep his Talent hidden, his powers a secret. But the Institute wants those unusual powers, and will do anything to get a hold of him and turn him into one of their mindless slaves.

Sam slips up once. Just once, but that’s enough. Now the Institute is after him in full force. Soldiers, telekinetics, and mind readers, all gunning just for him.

Newly qualified soldier, Serena, doesn’t even know she’s chasing a person, all she knows is that she has to find whatever the Institute is after before they do. But tracking an unknown entity through an unfamiliar city, with inaccurate intelligence, unexpected storms, and Gav Belias, people’s hero of the Watch, on the prowl, will she even survive? Will she get to Sam before the Institute does? His special skills could provide the rebellion with an incredible advantage, but not if they can’t get out of the city, and over the huge wall that stands between them and freedom.

Excerpt

I Am the Storm
Tash McAdam © 2018
All Rights Reserved

I didn’t ask to be Talented, but I am, and because of that, I endanger everyone around me. Every day. The government wants people like me under their control, or dead. So we hide the best we can out here in the shadowy and factory district. It’s hot, same as always, even in the shade. Out here isn’t much to look at—especially compared to the inner city, which sparkles like diamonds. Around me, buildings in grays and browns loom into the blue sky, blocking the vicious sun and removing the need for the transparent aluminum shields guarding the open spaces from the UV. Those are for the rich.

This area is always in the darkness. We’re part of the City, but only just. Pressed up against the inside of the Wall, this end of town really isn’t much better than the slums. Nah, shit, I take it back. At least I’ve always had a roof over my head and food in my belly, even if it tastes pretty bland. My mom made sure of that.

People in the slums aren’t as lucky. Mom moved us out to the poor end of town because of me—it’s obvious, even if she lies whenever it comes up. She had a good job back before I was born, as a teacher in one of the elite elementary schools, and she loved it. I hear in her voice how much her heart aches when she tells stories about her old students. Now, she pulls levers fifteen hours a day in a plant and can’t stand up straight anymore. It’s my fault.

I’m snapped out of my musing by a warning shout and barely avoid a speeding mini elec-car, piled high with boxes and strips of metal. A second later, I’d have been another smear marring the tarmaxx. No point in putting solar panels here, after all, so the road is far from shiny and clean. I curse at the driver’s back.

Shoving my hands into my pockets, I chew my lip and dawdle down the road. I’m not in a hurry. Medical exams are one of my least favorite pastimes, but if I want to stay in school, and damn straight that’s what I want, I have to go. Being weighed, prodded, and poked isn’t nearly as fun as going home and relaxing with a hacked satellite feed, but we do what we must, right? Since I have these checkups twice yearly, along with every other Citizen in our glorious metropolis, I know how late I can be—without getting penalized—to the second. Although, I don’t have any idea what the time actually is since I don’t even have my comm unit with me. For once, I don’t have any tech in my pockets, and it makes me feel naked and exposed.

But it’s the only way I can keep from blowing my cover.

I’m a lucky sod, for sure. As a technopath—able to control technology with my mind—I have a unique power, and I’m not noticeable the way telekinetics are. They throw stuff around with their Talent. Obvious stuff right there. Me? Hell, if I get really angry, I can cause a blackout, but it’s doubtful anyone would trace it back to me. Living in an area without electricity helps, though. Thanks, Ma.

Giving up the creature comforts for your only son is a noble thing to do, and it’s kept me under the radar for years. Off the radar and above ground, instead of locked up in a facility designed to destroy any aspect of me deemed not “useful.” So, you know, my memories, my personality, and sense of self, for a start. If the Institute had their way and nabbed me as one of their brainwashed weapons, I’d lose everything making me myself.

I should get a bit of a move on, though. If you’re not there when they call your name a third time, you get bounced off the list and marked as “uncooperative,” which isn’t a good thing. They watch the uncooperative, in case we’re considering a life of rebellion and insurrection. And I’m exactly the kind of person they’d love to catch. Besides being Talented, I do my fair share of cybercrime. They’d only have to watch me for a few days before I ended up with a hood over my head and a gun in my spine. I might not be tall, strong, or rich, but I’m definitely dangerous.

I pick up the pace a little and, rushing around the next corner, thud right into the broad chest of a watchman. I stumble and lose my balance, and then I’m knocked off my feet by a powerful and unnecessary uppercut to the jaw. I cry out in pain, rebounding off the wall and crumpling in a heap.

Blinking back stinging tears of shock, I clap my palm to my throbbing face. The brute looks down at me, pathetic Sam, crouched on the ground, wearing worn-out clothes. He spits on me, daring me to retaliate so he can arrest me and throw me in the clink. Power tripping. The Watch—military police—are government thugs, but many of them aren’t bad people. Just people with a sucky job.

This one appears to be your standard petty thug in a uniform.

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Meet the Author

Tash is a 30 year old teacher candidate at UBC in Canada, although they were born and raised in the hilly sheepland of Wales (and have lived in South Korea and Chile before settling down in Vancouver). Tash identifies as trans and queer and uses the neutral pronoun ‘they’. They’re also an English teacher and fully equipped to defend that grammar! They have a degree in computer science so their nerd chat makes sense, and a couple of black belts in karate which are very helpful when it comes to writing fight scenes.

Their novel writing endeavours began at the age of eight, and included passing floppy discs back and forth with a friend at swimming lessons. Since then, Tash has spent time falling in streams, out of trees, learning to juggle, dreaming about zombies, dancing, painting, learning and then teaching Karate, running away with the circus, and of course, writing.

They write fast-paced, plot-centric action adventure with diverse casts. They write the books that they wanted to read as a queer kid and young adult (and still do!)

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Dec 17

New Release Blitz: Surface Tension by Valentine Wheeler (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Surface Tension

Author: Valentine Wheeler

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: December 17, 2018

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 34500

Genre: Fantasy, mermaids, sailors, tentacles, FF romance, magic, scientists, abduction

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Synopsis

Sarai runs away from home to find a new life on the high seas. She’s heard stories all her life of the things that lurk beneath the waves and the people who return to land with fractured memories and strange new scars. When a storm brings her face to face with a creature unlike any she’s met, she discovers a whole new world under the sea.

Excerpt

Surface Tension
Valentine Wheeler © 2018
All Rights Reserved

The sturdy ship bobbed and shook in the pounding surf, its sails snapping uselessly in the wind without the crew’s firm hand. The three masts swayed and creaked, lines whipping free. Just off the bow on the starboard side, a ridged head broke the surface of the water, eerily still amidst the crashing waves. It cocked to one side, as if considering the scene before it, then slid back below the surface. On the other side of the ship, a forked tail flicked repeatedly, cresting the surface again and again as it circled to port. Another head bobbed up beside it, cutting smoothly through the water, its dark eyes searching.

The captain shouted orders, but his voice was drowned out by the thunder and the pounding of the rain on wood and canvas. He yanked lines, directed sailors, and spun the wheel, darting from disaster to catastrophe, trying to keep his course into the breaking waves rather than letting them sweep up the sides or the stern. But once the mainsail was furled, he grabbed his boatswain and gave up on riding the storm out or using the pounding winds’ power with any semblance of control. Instead, he climbed the rigging, holding tight to the ropes, and spread the word of their retreat. Then he sprinted to the cabin, where he threw open the door and gestured frantically at all the crew near him to come inside, below decks. He watched them scurry toward him, praying they’d make it before they perished like his quartermaster had, lost overboard in the swirling brine.

The boom swung and the main mast shuddered ominously as the wind tugged it first one way, and then the other. Lit haphazardly by one of the few lanterns not yet doused, a lone sailor struggled across the deck from the stern on her hands and knees, battered by the tempest. The rope around her waist had come loose, its waterlogged knot sliding from her hips, and she missed the grab for it before it vanished.

As she skidded along the slick, wet wood, the captain watched, helpless to save her and knowing she wouldn’t make it across the wide expanse of the deck.

The sailor’s small figure slid across the deck on the next swell, fighting for balance and a handhold, any handhold, on the slick wood but failing. The shadowed gazes of the creatures in the water tracked her. When she slammed into the railing and flipped over into the air, her captain’s cry soundless in the din of the crashing waves, the creatures had already disappeared beneath the spot where her body hit the water.

The sailor fought for air, breathing in a cold lungful of mist and burning sea-salt spray as her head burst through the waves. The creature held back, eyes glinting in the lightning flash from below in the dark-green water. The woman’s struggles began to weaken, and the creature inched closer, keeping carefully out of her sight line, an easy dance of fins, tentacles, and long, webbed fingers keeping it still in the rush of the current and the churning sea spray above.

As her movements slowed, the creature licked its lips with a long, black tongue, pointed teeth shining in the brief glimmers of lantern light that found their way through the darkness.

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Meet the Author

Valentine is a latecomer to writing, though she’s always been a passionate reader. Through fanfiction she found her way to an incredible community of writers who’ve taught her to love making stories.

When she isn’t writing, she’s making bad puns, yelling about television, or playing with her small child.

Her life’s ambition is to eat the cuisine of every single country. Find Valentine on Twitter.

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Dec 17

New Release Blitz: The Lion Lies Waiting by Glenn Quigley (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  The Lion Lies Waiting

Author: Glenn Quigley

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: December 17, 2018

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 88600

Genre: Historical, Abduction, Addiction, Age-gap, Bears, Established Couple, Kidnapping, Mental illness, Over 40

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Synopsis

Winter, 1780, and the solstice is fast approaching. Four months after the events of The Moth and Moon, burly fisherman Robin Shipp is preparing for his first Midwinter festival with his lover, the handsome baker Edwin Farriner. But when a letter arrives begging for help, they must travel with their friend, Duncan, to Port Knot on sinister Blackrabbit Island for a final confrontation with Edwin’s mother. Also visiting the island are Lady Eva and her wife Iris, with a stunning proposition that could change Robin and Edwin’s lives forever.

The snow-covered harbour town of Port Knot is a dangerous place. While there, Robin, Edwin, and Duncan explore the menacing rooftop settlement known as the Roost, mingle with high society in the magnificent splendour of Chase Manor, and uncover a violent conspiracy threatening the island’s entire way of life.

Old rivalries will flare, shocking secrets will be revealed, and as Duncan’s scandalous past finally catches up with him, will it ultimately destroy them all?

The men will be tested to their limits as they discover that on Blackrabbit Island, the lion lies waiting.

Excerpt

On the tiny island of Merryapple, not far from the Cornish coast, almost every frost-kissed window was cheered with the light of a solstice lantern. Made of brass or copper or tin, each lantern was set with coloured glass, each one was polished and cared for, and each one was unique. Joyously lit were they with a red candle for the duration of the Midwinter celebrations, starting at the winter solstice and continuing through to New Year. Always red, that was the tradition. Red for blood. Red for life. Red for love. Every member of the household had their own lantern skilfully engraved with their name. When a person died, their candle was removed and cast into the sea—their light taken from the lives of their loved ones.

Robin Shipp never liked that part of the tradition. From the age of ten, his solstice lantern stood alone on his windowsill, his father’s candle swallowed by the waves, just as his father himself had been. Whenever the lantern’s tinted glass flooded the room with cheer, he tried to remember the good times with his father, tried not to think about being alone. And he managed it, for the most part. Robin was fifty years old and the past summer had seen a great many changes in his life. He’d discovered who his mother really was, cleared his father’s name, won the acceptance of the village, and started a relationship with a man he cared deeply for. It was December, 1780, and Robin was set for a Midwinter celebration to remember.

The little fishing village of Blashy Cove was shrouded in a chilly haze and the people were trying to remember how to walk on icy, cobbled roads. The previous night had seen the first proper snowfall of the season and the whole village was powdered, from hilltop to harbour, with the low, slate sky holding the promise of more to come. A mist clung tightly to the quiet sea.

In the ancient tavern named the Moth & Moon, Robin used the sleeve of his chunky, woollen jumper to rub frost away from one of the dozens of little panes of glass which formed a spacious bay window. He was a colossal man—tallest in the village—and wide to boot, with a jolly face and thick limbs made hard from a lifetime of oyster dredging in the bay. His solid, round belly rose when he laughed, and he laughed readily. His cap, with its unusual anchor pendant sewed to the band, sat askew, revealing a little of the single tuft of white hair which sprang from his otherwise bald head.

He peered out through the thick glass and across to the newly built and bustling market hall in the harbour. Just a roof held up by heavy wooden poles, but it helped keep the rain off. It was market day, and the traders hadn’t let the snow and ice put them off. Stalls selling fish sat next to ones loaded with goods from the island’s only farm. Others sold all manner of clothing and trinkets from the mainland and beyond. Under the cover of their new roof, the traders stamped their feet and hugged themselves to stay warm, their laughter and singing turning to fog in the frosty air. The smell of the morning catch mixed with that of the hot spiced brews they drank to keep their spirits up. It was the last market day for the duration of Midwinter and so the villagers were stocking up on the essentials.

“Never mind the sightseeing” came a voice from behind Robin. “Get those beads up or we’ll never get finished before nightfall.”

Mr. George Reed—the bearded innkeeper—was directing his staff and volunteers with a series of points and barks.

“Right you are!” Robin called back.

With meaty fingers, he tied one end of a long string of colourful but mismatched glass beads to an errant nail above the window frame. As he reached up to secure the other end, he tugged too hard and the string snapped, casting beads across the floor and seats. They ran under chairs and behind booths. A cerulean bead ran over the uneven wooden floorboards and came to rest at the foot of George Reed, who stood with his hands on his hips, shaking his head. Robin tipped his cap back and looked sheepish.

“Ah, sorry, George,” he said.

“No, it’s my fault, I should have known better,” George said with a laugh, “but you’re the only one tall enough to reach without a ladder. Why don’t you go and help move those tables?”

Robin slapped George on the shoulder as he lumbered towards the bar where some men had grabbed each end of a bench and were clearing a space. With a great heave, he single-handedly picked up a heavy oak table and swung it about, almost knocking over one of the other helpers. With a mighty thump, he set it down by the far wall, knocking over several tankards of beer in the process. He lifted a cloth and began moping it up as best he could, but he was just making it worse, spreading the foamy liquid out ever further. The bar steward he almost knocked over took his own cloth and pushed the much taller Robin out the way, with a polite-but-firm: “Yes, thank you, Mr. Shipp.”

“Is this your idea of helping?”

Duncan Hunger stood at the door of the inn with a tall object covered with a blanket and resting in a cart.

“It is, as it ’appens!” Robin replied.

Duncan was a very short, very stocky man in his late thirties. He had a full head of thick, black, wavy hair, with sideburns down to his jaw and he wore a pair of spectacles of his own design. Small, gold-rimmed and circular, they had an extra array of little lenses on movable armatures. They were an enormous help in his work as toymaker.

“Give me a hand with this,” Duncan said.

Robin grabbed one side of the object’s base and Duncan took the other.

“’Eavier than it looks,” he said.

“Aren’t we all?” Duncan said.

Together, they lifted it out of the cart and manoeuvred it to the space the staff had cleared.

“Careful, careful,” Duncan said as he slid the object into place.

Robin pulled his hands away too quickly and the item hit the wooden floor with a heavy, jangly thump, as if someone had dropped a box of cutlery.

“What part of ‘careful’ did you find the most confusing?” Duncan asked.

Robin stood bolt upright, clenching his fists and biting his pale lower lip as Duncan glanced under the cloth to satisfy himself nothing had been damaged. Relieved, Robin went to lift the material at his side, but Duncan quickly slapped his hand away.

“No peeking! You’ll spoil the surprise.”

“This is the Midwinter centrepiece you’ve been workin’ on all these weeks? What is it?”

“I told you, it’s a surprise.”

“Yes, but what—”

“You’ll see at Midwinter’s Eve!”

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Meet the Author

Glenn Quigley is a graphic designer originally from Dublin and now living in Lisburn, Northern Ireland. He creates bear designs for www.themoodybear.com. He has been interested in writing since he was a child, as essay writing was the one and only thing he was ever any good at in school. When not writing or designing, he enjoys photography and has recently taken up watercolour painting.

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Dec 10

Blog Tour: The Escort’s Tale: an MMF Bisexual Romance by M.J. Edwards (pen name for Robert Winter) (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Today I’m excited to welcome M.J. Edwards  who has joined us to talk about his new release The Escort’s Tale.  As an extra bonus, M.J. has written a short companion story that can be read in it’s entirety by visiting each stop on the tour.  Scroll down to the Guest Post to read Part 1.

Title: The Escort’s Tale: an MMF Bisexual Romance

Author: M.J. Edwards (pen name for Robert Winter)

Publisher: Snow King Books

Release Date: September 21, 2018

Heat Level: 5 – Erotica

Pairing: Male/Male/Female (Male/Male interaction)

Length: 199 pages

Genre: Romance, Erotica, bi for you

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Synopsis

Do you want to spice up your marriage? Or perhaps you have a cuckold fantasy? Whatever your desire or kink, call JD Pierce.

Under his working name, Jasper has built a solid clientele and reputation. As JD Pierce, high-priced escort, he specializes in bringing bisexual fantasies to life. Sometimes a husband needs to be humiliated. Maybe a couple wants to be naughty and roleplay the seduction of an impressionable boy. Jasper, aka JD, is the man for the job.

When a young woman with a unique problem contacts Jasper, though, he fears he’s out of his depth. Alethia’s husband Nick suffered a spinal cord injury. He has paraplegia. The couple can no longer have conventional sex, and it’s driving a wedge between them. Nick is straight, but Alethia hires Jasper to help them fix things.

Despite his doubts, Jasper throws himself into the challenge. He wants to help sexy Nick reconnect with his beautiful wife. Using imagination and honesty, he unearths hidden fantasies in both of them. What he isn’t prepared for is his attraction to these new clients. The feeling grows quickly from desire to friendship and maybe something more. Will Jasper help Nick and Alethia and then move on? Or will they be the couple to bring to life this escort’s own fantasy?

The Escort’s Tale is a standalone bisexual erotic romance featuring a well-endowed lover-for-hire, a troubled man in a wheelchair, and the determined woman who brings them all together.

Excerpt

Excerpt from The Escort’s Tale, Chapter Two:

“Would you like to tell me how my name came up?” I ask, gauging that Alethia’s ready to discuss it.

She sets down her glass and darts glances left and right. Satisfied no one will overhear, she leans closer and speaks in a quiet, private voice. “Meredith is aware that my husband and I are facing some difficulties in our marriage. I mentioned to her recently over lunch that we’ve been struggling for a solution. She was very, um, detailed about her experiences with you.” Alethia blushes prettily. “And complimentary, as well.”

I smile at the circumspection. “Meredith has been a good client. I’m happy to hear she says nice things, since I don’t exactly ask for Yelp reviews.”

She snorts a little laugh, which I find charmingly awkward on such a chic woman. She puts a hand over her mouth to cover a grin. “I understand why, though that makes it tricky for, um…”

“Yes?” I prompt. “For someone in need of my services to find me?” I wink to show I take it lightly.

Alethia bobs her head in agreement. “I’d think in the internet age there’d be some sort of specialized rating service or booking site.”

There are a few actually, but I choose to avoid those. I don’t like the risk of zealous law enforcement having information about my working name or clientele. Word of mouth has always generated enough business for me anyway.

Since she seems more comfortable now, I dive in. “Why don’t you give me a general idea of what you’re looking for? We can discuss whether I’d be a good fit.”

Alethia inhales sharply and grabs her tea for a quick distraction. I wait her out again as she sips. Eventually, she places the glass back down with a sharp click and takes another glance around. She clasps her hands on the table top, as in prayer. I lean in, close enough to scent a trace of her delicate perfume. The essence of orange blossoms fills the air around her.

“My husband and I have been together for five years, nearly six,” she begins. “Nick has always been an avid rock climber. He played rugby, skied, competed in triathlons. Everything active like that you can think of. Eighteen months ago, he—”

She breaks off for a long moment to look at her entwined hands. Her knuckles gleam white, and I find myself reaching out to cover them with one of my own. She gives a shuddering breath at the touch, but doesn’t pull away.

“During a climb one afternoon on some cliffs, Nick had a bad fall when a handhold crumbled. The accident left him with a spinal cord injury. My husband uses a wheelchair now. He has paraplegia.”

I hear a sympathetic noise come out of me, entirely unplanned. She glances up to meet me eyes so I explain. “I’m sorry. I have a buddy from the Army who suffered an SCI. Rehab helped some, but it’s been a hard road for him.”

Alethia bites her lip and nods slowly. “It’s been…a learning process. Nick is strong-willed, though, and for the most part he’s adapted. We have home health aides to address his needs where he won’t accept my help. Also, we live in an apartment on a single floor that’s been made ready to accommodate his wheelchair.” She looks to where my hand still covers hers. “The problem is our sex life,” she whispers.

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Guest Post

My novel The Escort’s Tale is a bisexual romance, told from the perspective of the sex worker Jasper Dylan, who sees clients under the working name of JD Pierce. One day Alethia Ballantine contacts Jasper; her husband Nick has suffered a spinal cord injury, is in a wheelchair, and can no longer walk or make love to her. Alethia and Nick have decided to hire a professional escort in an attempt to deal with the issues in their sex life.

Chapter Three describes Jasper’s first meeting with Nick when the escort arrives at their apartment, from Jasper’s perspective. The thoughts, fears and hopes of Nick Ballantine in that first meeting seemed like a story worth telling, though. Each stop on my blog tour for The Escort’s Tale contains a section of Nick’s story, in something I had to call…

THE HUSBAND’S TALE

By M.J. Edwards

Part 1

I roll my wheelchair nervously toward the wall of windows, hands aching from how tightly I clench the rims of the narrow tires.

The Boston apartment I share with my wife Alethia is easy to navigate, even in my chair. The designer she hired adapted it for me before we moved in, so there’s plenty of room to move around. We placed furniture so I can join people in the living room or at the dining table. The halls are extra-wide to let me turn without having to back up into a room first. The bathroom has all kinds of accommodations so I can shower without an aide.

But what I love most of all is the view of downtown splayed out before my eyes. When I come to a stop at the window wall, I don’t bother setting the brake. Shifting in my chair to avoid sores, I lean on one elbow and admire the city of my birth. Boston has always felt more manageable to me than, say, New York or Tokyo. The tall buildings gleam in the night, modern and exciting, yet enough historic architecture remains to honor the past. Cars wind their way along the busy streets, and the sidewalks teem with people walking home or to a club.

What I wouldn’t give to be able to walk with them.

I glance at my wristwatch and mentally start the count down. Fifteen minutes until the end of the world. Well, the end of my world at least. Or, will it be the beginning of the end…?

No, I suppose the true beginning was eighteen months ago, when I took a fall while rock climbing. Can you believe I threw everything away across the country, in California’s Joshua Tree National Park?

It shouldn’t have even been a major challenge. I’d stood at the top of climbs in Acadia, Yosemite, the Cascades. Been up Mont Blanc in the Alps, for fuck’s sake. Hung on the side of mountains, so cold I wasn’t sure how to keep going, and yet found the strength to do it. I learned I had the drive to plan and accomplish incredible feats, overcome obstacles, and push past my own limits when I needed to inspire my climbing buddies who were ready to give up and turn back.

And then Joshua Tree happened. That climb was supposed to be a minor distraction during a vacation with friends, nothing that required months of training like the Alps. I was confident and strong as we worked our way up the split face of the rock we’d chosen. The alien shapes of Joshua trees stretched across the desert floor under a cloudless sky, looking like something out of a Doctor Seuss book. Distracted and already anticipating the view from the top, I remember storing memories to share with my wife when we all got back to the resort in La Quinta that evening.

I didn’t see the raptor’s nest until the bird I had disturbed screeched. It flew out of a crack in the rock, right into my face, talons coming for my eyes. Like a noob I panicked and jerked, turning wrong. The rope went slack as it pulled free of the cliff. I knew a moment of weightlessness, then heart-stopping terror when gravity took me.

Don’t miss part 2 of Nick’s story.  You can follow the rest by dropping in for each stop of my blog tour:

Part 1 12/10/2018 IndiGo
Part 2 12/10/2018 Mainely Stories
Part 3 12/11/2018 Bayou Book Junkie
Part 4 12/11/2018 Valerie Ullmer | Romance Author
Part 5 12/12/2018 Love Bytes Reviews
Part 6 12/13/2018 J. Scott Coatsworth
Part 7 12/14/2018 The Blogger Girls

If you’re intrigued and want to know more about my sexy couple and the man they’ve hired, follow the buy link or check out The Escort’s Tale at my website.

Meet the Author

M.J. Edwards is the pen name for Robert Winter. As Robert, I write primarily gay contemporary romance. M.J. is the alter ego under which I get to explore a more erotic side of romance, with combinations of characters along the LGBTQ spectrum. The stories are light on angst, heavy on sex, and a happy ending for all is my goal.

I love hearing from readers so please feel free to ask questions or make comments. You can email me at mjedwardsauthor@gmail.com or find me on Goodreads.

Website | Goodreads | eMail

Tour Schedule

12/10 IndiGo

12/10 MainelyStories

12/11 Bayou Book Junkie

12/11 Valerie Ullmer | Romance Author

12/12 Love Bytes

12/13 J. Scott Coatsworth

12/14 The Blogger Girls

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Dec 10

New Release Blitz: LV48 by Matt Doyle (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  LV48

Series: The Cassie Tam Files, Book Three

Author: Matt Doyle

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: December 10, 2018

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 66400

Genre: Science Fiction, futuristic, lesbian, private detective, Sci-fi

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Synopsis

New Hopeland City may be the birthplace of Tech Shifter gear, but it isn’t the only place that likes to blend technology with folklore. Now, a new nightmare is stalking the streets…

When PI Cassie Tam is attacked on the way home one night, she expects the police to get involved. What she doesn’t expect is to be forced into acting as bait to lure out a lunatic in a tech-suit that’s literally out for blood. But past actions have consequences, and doing so may be the only way she can get a clean slate from the city’s law makers.

If only that didn’t mean having to face down a wannabe vampire.

Excerpt

LV48
Matt Doyle © 2018
All Rights Reserved

“Nei hou gaau siu.”

When Lori smiles like that, her eyes take on a slight twinkle, making their pale blue tone feel warm and welcoming. That being the case, it takes me a moment to realise I didn’t understand a word she just said. Am I so drunk already? “Uh, sorry. What?”

Lori giggles and repeats, “Nei hou gaau siu.” When I stare blankly, she frowns and asks, “Is my pronunciation off? I was sure that was right.”

“What were you trying to say?”

“I was trying to tell you that you’re funny in Cantonese.”

And at that, the laughter spills out of me, uncontrolled to the point I have to bury my face in the table to muffle the sound. If we’d been in our usual haunt, Northern Main Street’s late-night café-cum-alternative hangout Tourniquet, I’d have let loose uninhibited. The people there look like an odd bunch when you’re viewing things from the outside, but if you spend enough time there, you soon realise they’re all really nice people with tastes and hobbies that fall outside the mainstream. Seeing as we’ve opted for Cartwright’s on Dunstone Avenue, though, I’m trying to hold back. Honestly, I am. I’m just not doing a good job of it.

The staff in Cartwright’s are lovely, but the clientele is a little less raucous than those at Tourniquet, and so I’m already drawing some confused looks by the time I wipe the tears from my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I say, “I’m sorry.”

“I’ve never been much good at languages. Oh God,” Lori sighs and shoots me a now far more nervous smile. “Put me out of my misery. What did I say?”

I shrug. “You probably told me I was funny in Cantonese.”

Lori tilts her head and says, “Okay, now I’m confused.”

“I don’t speak Cantonese.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I really don’t.”

“You really do. I mean, you can’t seriously be telling me you’ve been using diu in the Taiwanese sense?”

“No, no…,” I reply, waving my hands in frantic motions. “Wait. What does it mean in Taiwan?”

“It was old slang for cool.”

“Oh, right. No, I’m definitely using it the way you think.”

“So you do speak Cantonese then.”

“No, I swear in Cantonese. I couldn’t hold a conversation in it. My dad had a thing about me swearing. He hated it, even when I was an adult. It was the one thing that always made him roll his eyes at Mom. Anyway, he spoke Mandarin, English, and a little French, so my options for big kid words were kinda limited. I went to school with a guy named Tom Huang; he spoke Cantonese, so I got him to teach me the cool words. Dad probably got the gist of what I was saying, but I think he appreciated the ingenuity of it.”

And now, Lori laughs and buries her face in her hands. She shakes her head and says, “I am such an idiot.”

“Nah, it’s not like I’ve ever spoken Mandarin around you, so how would you know? Honestly, I know enough Mandarin to get by, but we always spoke English at home, so I just picked that up easier. Let’s see, though…you would have meant nǐ hěn gǎoxiào. Or if you wanted to be really over the top with it, nǐ jiӑng shénme dōu néng bӑ wŏ lè huài le. That’s ‘everything you say cracks me up.’”

Lori shakes her head. “I think I’ll stick to English.”

“I am sorry for laughing,” I say, taking her hand. “It was really sweet of you to try learning something in another language for me. Why that phrase, though?”

Lori lets out a short, gentle laugh, and replies, “Every time we’re together, you either do or say something to make me laugh, so I figured it was something I could guarantee I’d get to use.”

“I’ll get us another drink,” I blurt, and whip myself to my feet and away towards the counter. It was just a compliment, but still… Did I move quick enough to stop her seeing how red my cheeks are?

“Nǐ hěn gǎoxiào,” Lori giggles in broken Mandarin.

I guess I was too slow. Diu.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author

Matt Doyle is a speculative fiction author from the UK and identifies as pansexual and genderfluid. Matt has spent a great deal of time chasing dreams, a habit which has led to success in a great number of fields. To date, this has included spending ten years as a professional wrestler, completing a range of cosplay projects, and publishing multiple works of fiction.

These days, Matt can be found working on multiple novels and stories, blogging about pop culture, and plotting and planning far too many projects.

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Dec 10

New Release Blitz: Love Blooms by Stephanie Hoyt (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Love Blooms

Author: Stephanie Hoyt

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: December 10, 2018

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 61800

Genre: Fantasy, Santa, elves, magic, holiday

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Synopsis

Nico Hamurişi is the one and only son of Santa Claus. All his life, Nico has known he’s expected to fall in love and find lifelong commitment by the Christmas of his thirtieth year—like every other heir before him. But knowing and accepting are vastly different things, and as the final countdown begins, Nico has yet to embrace his fate. His once great enthusiasm for eventually becoming Santa has been dimmed by uncertainty over how the Santa Line will be affected when he marries a man.

With only a year left, will Nico have time to find love and commitment all while learning how magic will transform the family line to accommodate who he is and who he loves?

Excerpt

Love Blooms
Stephanie Hoyt © 2018
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
The sun hasn’t even begun to brighten the sky when Nico reaches the family estate. He shuts his car’s engine off in front of his childhood home and waits, staring at his watch as the seconds tick by. The hour hand strikes five and snow starts to fall. His father must have made his first delivery right on time. Nico sighs, relief washing over him at having successfully avoided the annual Christmas conversation for the next twenty-something hours. For the moment, no matter how fleeting, he can go inside without bracing himself for confrontation.

The snow falls soft and cold on his face as he walks to the door, and for an instant, Nico thinks it may have been worth coming home earlier to avoid the snowfall. He laughs, short and bitter, as last year’s predelivery family dinner flashes in his mind and he remembers what avoiding the snowfall entails. He’d much rather deal with this cold, wet mess than the disappointment in his father’s eyes at another year passing by without him fulfilling his obligations as heir apparent. If last year was bad, this year will be infinitely worse. His father had been disappointed then, but now with the deadline looming so close, Nico can imagine how his father’s mood will have shifted to something far worse than disappointment.

He wipes his feet on the welcome home mat and opens the door. He takes a deep breath as he steps inside and tries his best not to let this place get the better of him. It stopped being home years ago, but he can do this. He can. Except, the utter lack of even a shred of welcoming quality fills him with dread. This house has been the site of nearly every argument he’s ever had with his father and he knows he’s opened the door to yet another lecture on the expectations and obligations that come along with being the son of Kristoff Hamurişi.

This year won’t be any different, especially since the final year of the countdown begins at midnight. If he’s being realistic, which he hates to do, any discussion of his failings is going to be much more tense than they’ve ever been before. But for now, the lights inside are off, save for the Christmas tree, his father is out for more than a full day’s worth of deliveries, the rest of the house seems to be fast asleep, and Nico can slip upstairs to his childhood bedroom without being noticed.

At least, that’s what he was counting on.

Unfortunately for him, someone had different plans for his arrival. He opens his bedroom door to a lit room and a ball of limbs and hair curled up in the middle of his bed. He sets his suitcase down with a loud thud and the ball moves, revealing the face of Noelle, the youngest of his four older sisters.

“My dear little Santicholas,” she says, words and laughter both swallowed in a yawn. “I can’t believe you thought you could sneak in here unnoticed.”

Nico rolls his eyes. “You know I hate when you call me that.”

She untangles herself and pushes up on the tips of her toes to wrap her arms around Nico in a big, tight hug. “It’s hard to believe you do when you’re smiling so big.”

Nico’s words get muffled by her hair and his own laughter. “Yeah, yeah. I missed you, too.”

She lets him go, shaking her head as he starts to yawn. “You should’ve come home at a decent hour if you wanted to be well rested.”

Nico narrows his eyes. “If it’s such an indecent hour then why are you up?”

Noelle lets out a short huff of air, annoyed. “I wanted you to see a friendly face before…”

Nico closes his eyes. Here it comes. He should have known better than to think he could avoid confrontation, even for a moment, even from his closest friend and sibling. When he opens his eyes again, Noelle’s sitting on the edge of the bed and her face has softened in a way that makes Nico feel worse.

He smiles but it does nothing to wipe the gentle expression off her face; she knows him too well, knows he wears it as a shield.

“You don’t have to pretend with me. I know failing is what worries you.”

“Failure isn’t my concern here, Noelle.” Not entirely true. “I’m worried about what will happen if I don’t fail.” Unbearably true.

Noelle raises her eyebrow, confused, and Nico’s stomach clenches. Am I actually doing this? He plows on before she can interrupt and he loses his nerve. “And I’m angry! I’m so incredibly angry I even need to be concerned by all this shit in the first place. I don’t want to think of heirs and continuing a family legacy and everything else riding on me falling in love when I don’t even know how who I love will affect any of this.”

Noelle blinks, breathing out a barely audible “Oh.”

Nico’s heart skips, his pulse is erratic.

“I’m gay.”

Noelle blinks again, and again, and again, and then, after what feels like an eternity of his stomach turning over in knots, she smiles. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, okay.”

She motions for Nico to sit next to her, and he does, knocking his shoulder against hers. “I was expecting a little more than an okay, if I’m being honest.”

Noelle laughs, embarrassed. “I didn’t think I should start quizzing you on if you’re seeing anyone, so okay seemed, well…okay.”

Nico smiles, and this time it’s not a shield. He feels lighter and more at peace in this house than he has in years. It’s such a relief to have finally shared such an important part of himself with such an important person in his life.

“Who all knows?”

Nico doesn’t answer immediately, and Noelle asks, “Oh, am I the only one who knows?”

“No, it’s not exactly a secret. I mean, everyone I know who doesn’t know this family knows. So work and friends from college and yeah. I’m basically out to everyone except the family.”

Noelle appears confused and curious. “Not even Joy? She knows how—”

Nico cuts her off. “No, not even our dear lesbian sister knows. Only you.”

Noelle hums an acknowledgment but doesn’t say anything else for a long while—Nico can tell she’s working through what to say next.

He has an idea of what she might be thinking and supplies an answer, “I haven’t told Mom and Dad because, even though it wasn’t a thing when Joy came out, what if… I mean it’s got to be different when you don’t have to produce an heir.”

Nico can’t keep the disdain out of his voice. For as long as he can remember, the heir has been his biggest concern regarding his father and, in turn, his mother finding out his sexuality. “There’s all this added pressure surrounding me finding someone to love. I know they don’t have a problem with queer people, but what if they have a problem with me being gay. There’s a lot riding on my love life.”

“Okay,” Noelle nods. “Well, yeah. I can’t deny there is a lot of pressure put on you falling in love. But I’ve got your back here. No matter what happens, I’ll help you find out how this affects you being the heir apparent to the Crimson Sleigh.”

Nico bursts out in laughter. “God, shut up. Why do you insist on calling it that?”

Noelle smiles, pleased as can be. “Because it makes you laugh.”

Nico purses his lips, trying to stifle his laughter. “You’re ridiculous, you know?”

“Yes, obviously. But I am also wonderful and magical and dearly beloved by you.”

“I guess.” He draws the word out, teasing, and Noelle shoves him, laughing. “Though I wouldn’t consider magical one of your finer qualities since we all are.”

Noelle crinkles her nose. “If you got it, flaunt it.”

Nico sighs. He wishes he was pleased with the extra magic they have, but it’s different—like everything else—when the full extent of his own powers is contingent on falling in love. “I’d much rather have no magic at all, but that’s probably just me.”

“Yeah, it’s got to be just you.” She pauses, furrowing her brow in thought. “Is it even possible to have no magic, though? Everyone’s got some when it comes down to it, even the Immunes. Magic’s everywhere little bro; it’s a fact of life.”

“I’d gladly trade with anyone who doesn’t have a love stipulation placed on their magic.” He doesn’t mean to sound so wishful, but so much of his life since college has been spent wondering how his life would be if he didn’t have all this extra pressure resting on his shoulders. He’d much rather be gifted with any other sort of magic; no need for the frills of Santahood. “Besides, I’m not much more powerful than anyone but Dad as it is. Since love eludes me.”

Noelle’s eyes light up. “So you’re not seeing anyone?”

Nico shakes his head, chuckling. He can always count on Noelle for poor segues and making him laugh. “Have you been waiting this whole time to ask me?”

“No, of course not; that’d be absurd. But since you’ve brought it back up…”

“I didn’t exactly bring it up.”

Noelle waves her hand, dismissing his words. “Yeah, yeah. But you gave me the perfect opportunity to ask, so.”

“So, what?” Nico knows what she means, but he wants to mess with her, make her work for the answer.

“So”—she draws the word out, her warm brown eyes twinkling with familiar mirth—“are you or are you not seeing anyone?”

“No, not at the moment.”

Noelle seems surprised, and Nico supplies an answer before she can ask, “It’s not necessarily a coincidence I pursued a career in something that affords me the opportunity to travel so much—I’m not entirely sure I want to settle down or fall in love.”

It’s the unfortunate truth of his life, but Noelle’s face falls. She isn’t pleased with the answer.

“Oh, Nico. You can’t deny yourself love because of the things expected of you. That’s not fair to yourself.”

Nico shrugs. He wishes it were that simple, but his obligations are always at the back of his mind, and it only gets worse when he meets a man who has the potential to be something more. Noelle smiles, soft and sympathetic. She gets up and ruffles his hair like she has since they were children; her fingers catch at the end where it’s starting to curl, and she clucks her tongue. It’s annoying and comforting all at the same time, as it always has been, and more of Nico’s tension slips away. Noelle’s always been such a good friend. “Mom will be up soon enough, and the rest of the house won’t be much longer after that.”

Nico yawns and Noelle continues, hand on the door, ready to leave, “The kids missed you last night so you might want to nap and get a story ready for why you didn’t arrive with everyone else because I’m sure they’ll pester you for one. Especially Timmy. Belle says he’s become quite the inquisitive little boy as of late.”

Nico motions for the door. “Will you stop fretting over me and go already. You said I need a nap. So let me nap.”

“Okay, okay. I’m going,” she says, but before she closes the door, she peeks her head back through and says, “I’m going to help you figure this all out, Nico. I promise.”

She shuts the door and Nico, for the first time in a long time, feels calm and relieved and a tad hopeful since he’s told Noelle. She’s right: he shouldn’t deny himself love. There might be a deadline and a world of responsibilities, obligations, and powers that come with being the heir apparent to the sleigh, but at the very least, he can’t let this change what he wants. He can’t let a part of his life he has never had a say in control his happiness.

He wants to fall in love; he wants to settle down; he wants to open his heart and build a life with someone else. And honestly, Nico thinks, as he starts to doze off, Santa be damned if being gay will change any of that.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author

Thematically, Stephanie likes magic and spies and magical spies. Aesthetically, she likes glitter and gold and pineapples. She wants to put more soft, sweet bi representation into the world so that people like her teen-self can see themselves in their favorite genres and know that who they are is nothing to be ashamed of.

She currently lives in the Great White North (Wisconsin) with her husband, daughter, and three dogs. The only thing getting her through these Midwest winters is the soothing sound of Tim Riggins saying “Texas forever” and the prospect of one day moving back there.

She loves a good astrology twitter but ultimately only believes in it when her husband calls her stubborn and then her response is: “Well, I am a Taurus.”

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Dec 10

New Release Blitz: The Island Angel by Alex Slorra (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  The Island Angel

Author: Alex Slorra

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: December 10, 2018

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 72900

Genre: Contemporary, Contemporary, thriller, fraud, conspiracy, framed, stranded, Lindisfarne, lesbian

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Synopsis

Jessica was a successful IT Director, but now she is on the run. Accused of fraud and orchestrating her company’s downfall, she travels as far as the island of Lindisfarne in Northumberland before breaking down.

There, an American, Anna Meyer, takes her in and offers kindness without questions. As they become closer, Jessica soon discovers Anna has her own much bigger problems and a past that comes knocking.

Excerpt

The Island Angel
Alex Slorra © 2018
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
Anna’s eyes were shut tight. She held a coffee cup in both hands below her chin.

It had been a mistake, a huge rotten awful mistake, and now, as some additional sadistic punishment, Anna would have to pay. No, make that two mistakes. First, marrying him, and second, buying an overpriced dump she couldn’t afford to sell.

She remembered a third, signing the divorce papers without really understanding what they had owed on the farm. No, the last wasn’t a mistake. It was the only way out.

Forcing herself to lift her gaze above the rim of her cup, she focused on her mother across the table. Tourist season had not yet started, and they were the only people in the Crown Hotel.

“Honey, sell and come back to the States,” her mother pleaded.

“You know I’m not doing that!” Anna slammed down her cup, before noticing the shock on her mother’s weary face. “I’m sorry.”

Her mum had flown all the way from Michigan after hearing how distressed she’d been on her daily calls home. “Anna, how are you paying the mortgage at the moment?”

Anna leaned back in her seat. “In the divorce, John signed the house over to me with enough money for six months. So, right now, I only have four months left.”

“I don’t understand why you would agree when you don’t have any income. He’s a lawyer, you should’ve asked for a lot more.”

“Mom, I’d expected to get the business going, you know, I told you… And I wanted to see the back of him. But now, I couldn’t even sell up if I wanted to. When I had it valued, the farm was worth thousands less than what we paid for it. And then I found out what we owed. If I sell, after all the costs, there’d be nothing, and I’ll still owe what is on my cards.”

Anna rested her chin on her chest, and her blonde hair fell forward, concealing her eyes. She hated that her marriage had ended. Hated that all her plans to turn the old farm into a business were now broken. Her sanctuary had become a burden.

“Oh, darling, talk to John. Can’t he—?”

“Mom, I’m not talking to him.”

A moment passed before her mother continued. “Why not come back home and wait for prices to go up? They always do, you know.”

“I can’t. I feel safer here. Abbie is safer here.”

Her mother leaned forward. “Just come back. It would be all right. He won’t bother us, I’m sure.”

“He was released last month, you said. And he’s still in Michigan?”

“As far as I know… But enough about that. You know, you could just default on your house payments, and it’ll be repossessed. The banks won’t chase you.”

Anna had considered the idea of going back home, but she couldn’t face it. She knew the fear would return. Especially now he’d been released. She had to keep Abbie safe. But also, the thought of being a barista at twenty-nine, while listening to whispers about her British husband leaving her for a younger woman, made her stomach turn. She’d rather drown in the cold North Sea outside her kitchen window.

She put on a brave smile. “Well, I’ve got four months. Things will improve. Maybe I can make enough from pony trekking this summer.” She didn’t want to worry her mother more than she had, so she didn’t mention she only had one pony and the stable’s roof needed to be repaired. It was another thing she couldn’t afford.

“There you go.” Her mum squeezed her hand. “Darling, do you have a friend here to help you?”

“Yes, a few.” It was a blatant lie, but she couldn’t have her mother concerned that she was alone. The truth was the people here weren’t very friendly. They seemed to stick together in groups as if they might catch the Black Death from someone new. Being the American who had bought a croft on their holy island, she hadn’t been welcomed into the tight-knit community.

Anna reached into her pocket to retrieve her watch and check the time. The strap had broken earlier in the day, and it wasn’t as if she needed it. She had her phone, and there was always a clock somewhere. It was just, since she was sixteen, she’d always worn it. The thought reminded her of her older sister, Emma, and caused tears to well up in her eyes.

She blinked to clear them and forced herself to damp down her emotions before her mother noticed. “I’m sorry Abbie wasn’t here to say goodbye.”

“I understand. The timing wasn’t good,” her mum offered. “It was nice to see her on the weekend. It must cost a lot to have her go to boarding school?”

Anna shook her head. “It’s free. The council pays, it’s the local government. There’s no secondary school on the island and, because of the tides, it’s nearly impossible to cross and get back during a normal school day. So, kids older than ten have to go to the boarding school on the mainland. Right now, there’s only three students from the island who do it, though.”

“She’s happy there?”

“She never says she doesn’t want to go back and she’s picking up an English accent.”

“I noticed.” Her mum chuckled. “She’s becoming an English rose. Emma would be proud.”

Anna didn’t want to disagree. At fourteen, Abbie was more like a thistle than a rose, at least with her anyway. One minute they were fine and having fun, the next they would be at loggerheads. Perhaps, in the holidays, things will be better between us.

Anna remembered why she had looked at her watch and touched her mother’s arm. “It’s time for your bus.”

“I wish I could have stayed longer.” It was her mum’s turn to lie. Anna knew her mother thought England was too cold, as well as expensive and inconvenient.

Anna’s mother got up and took hold of the handle of her cabin bag. “I know you don’t want my help with money, but it’s there if you need it. And do come home. I worry about you and Abbie.”

“I know. But you don’t need to. We’re fine, really.”

Outside, they hugged goodbye. It was still pretty cold for mid-May, and the wind cut through the fibres of Anna’s burgundy all-weather coat. She buried her hands in her pockets and watched as her mother boarded the small bus that would cross the mile-long causeway back to the mainland before the tide covered it.

Anna’s hair was blowing into her eyes. She brushed the wavy strands aside, before bursting into tears and darting back in the direction of her home.

Hurrying through the small village with her head down, she soon left the few buildings of the hamlet behind.

The island was small, only a few miles in both directions. In the winter, no more than a few hundred people braved the North Sea storms. Spring was not much better, with high tides and cold easterly winds from Norway. It was a suffering romantic’s paradise. For Anna, only the suffering part seemed true now. She passed the ruins of the old monastery, said to be the birthplace of Christianity in Britain. Beyond it, waves crashed against the rocky coastline.

She tried to put her predicament into words, but all she could think of was a swimming lesson from her grandfather at his cabin in Michigan. As was the tradition, Grandpa Brent had the job of teaching the younger family members how to swim. Anna had begged her way out of swimming until, at eight years old, her mother insisted she must learn. It was apparently a necessary life skill. So, there she was standing in her newly purchased white-and-pink one-piece at the end of the dock with Grandpa Brent behind her. He was explaining how to move her arms and legs. Looking back, she should have questioned why the man was fully dressed. Next thing she knew, he’d picked her up by her waist and had thrown her off the end of the dock into the lake.

Anna would have drowned if it wasn’t for the end of a bamboo fishing rod the old idiot offered her when she managed to surface. She’d desperately grabbed the thin yellow pole and used it to get back to the dock. Sobbing and hunched over, having literally been fished out of the water, she looked at the person she had trusted and screamed at him before running back into the cabin where her mother and older sister were making lunch. She still hadn’t learned how to swim and, now, she felt like she was underwater again.

On the exposed barren land, she followed a single-track road that hugged the jagged coast until Lindisfarne Castle could be seen on the south-eastern corner of the island. It was perched on a pinnacle, half-hidden by sea mist. Anna found some solace in the old fortress, knowing it had been there for four hundred years, withstanding all that had been thrown at it. But more so, it comforted her knowing people had lived, worked, and survived in its walls. If they could, so could she. She turned down a narrow muddy lane and scampered towards the eighteenth-century farmhouse that was her home.

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Meet the Author

Alex is a lesbian fiction novelist based in the UK. She grew up in Canada and completed a BSc degree in Nova Scotia, before moving back to work in central London. Alex has also lived in the United States and France.

Since a young age, she has consumed a mixture of historical fiction, fantasy, and romance. Alex enjoys music creation, photography, painting, and the guitar, but most of all, things she doesn’t understand. For her, writing is a way to inspire virtues that should happen more often. Follow Alex on Twitter.

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Dec 10

New Release Blitz: A Very Vampire Christmas by Mark Lesney & Midnight Angel by Kevin Klehr (Excerpt & Giveaway)

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Publisher:  NineStar Press
Release Date: December 10, 2018

Title:  A Very Vampire Christmas
Author: Mark Lesney
Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 21600
Genre: Paranormal, vampire, romance writer, humor, Wild West, Christmas

Stuck for ideas on what to get his wealthy, blind, vampire lover for Christmas, Kevin comes up with the idea of recovering Danton’s long-lost but much-favored glass eyes from their home in a Wild West museum. But one touch of the eyes and Kevin is swept by his developing clairvoyant powers into a psychic nightmare of the old Wild West the eyes ‘witnessed’ while still in Danton’s head. The journey reveals a gunslinger Sheriff Danton, brings to light the lingering threat of Danton’s violent vampire ex-lover, and ultimately seals a new bond between Kevin and Danton in a Christmas to remember.

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Meet the Author

Mark Lesney is a single gay man of a certain age, living with the obligatory cat. His only fiction credential before “Interview with the Kevin” is a semi-comic steampunk M/M romance novelette, “The Golden Goose,” published in the “Steamed Up” anthology, sadly now out of print.

His non-fiction writing credits, however, are extensive. Currently, he is the managing editor of two medical newspapers, for which he also writes routinely. For over 6 years, his science and history articles appeared monthly in two newsmagazines, for which he was a writer/editor at the American Chemical Society. His credits also include science articles published in Analog Science Fiction/Science Fact. He has a PhD in plant pathology and a second PhD in the history of science.

He has worked as a research scientist and university professor. But his love has always been reading and writing fiction—with science fiction/fantasy, mystery, paranormal romance, and historicals all grappling for his affections. He is now determined to pursue that dream intensely.

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Title:  Midnight Angel
Author: Kevin Klehr
Heat Level: 1 – No Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 10500
Genre: Fantasy, angel, new year’s eve, holiday, contemporary

Dinner is overcooked. The guests haven’t arrived.

Luke is sitting alone at his dining table on New Year’s Eve. He was hoping to romance Nathan, one of the people he invited for this intimate evening meal.

As midnight draws closer, it seems an angel, who has magically appeared in Luke’s apartment, is the only person to drink champagne and watch the fireworks with.

But this angel has other ideas. He’s about to grant Luke the New Year’s Eve party he thought he wanted.

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Meet the Author

Kevin lives with his long-term partner, Warren, in their humble apartment (affectionately named Sabrina), in Australia’s own ‘Emerald City,’ Sydney.

From an early age, Kevin had a passion for writing, jotting down stories and plays until it came time to confront puberty. After dealing with pimple creams and facial hair, Kevin didn’t pick up a pen again until he was in his thirties. His handwritten manuscript was being committed to paper when his work commitments changed, giving him no time to write. Concerned, his partner, Warren, secretly passed the notebook to a friend who in turn came back and demanded Kevin finish his story. It wasn’t long before Kevin’s active imagination was let loose again.

His first novel spawned a secondary character named Guy, an insecure gay angel, but many readers argue that he is the star of the Actors and Angels book series. Guy’s popularity surprised the author.

So with his fictional guardian angel guiding him, Kevin hopes to bring more whimsical tales of love, life and friendship to his readers.

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Dec 03

New Release Blitz: Forbidden Pursuits by Harry F. Rey (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Forbidden Pursuits

Series: The Galactic Captains, Book Two

Author: Harry F. Rey

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: December 3, 2018

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 47700

Genre: Science Fiction, sci-fi, futuristic, war, space, multiple partners, royalty, romance

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Synopsis

When Daeron’s mother, Captain Sanya, is offered a risky but lucrative job, rescuing an experimental galinium scientist from Aldegar, the lost loves lurking in her past mean she must send Daeron away to the other end of the galaxy—to the father he’s never met on the Kyleri Empire’s capital, Jiwani.

On Jiwani, the heir to the galaxy’s most powerful empire, Prince Osvai, balances deference to rigid Kyleri customs with his desire to explore the forbidden secrets of the Royal Baths, and the dark pursuits no prince should have.

But when a mysterious stranger from the Outer Verge turns up to work with his ambitious Uncle Viscamon, Osvai’s temptations lead him into a web of intrigue that could change the Galactic Balance forever.

As Sanya, Daeron, and Osvai pursue their forbidden desires, they become entwined in a galactic power struggle stretching from the frozen tundra of Jansen to the searing memories of Captain Ales’s lost homeworld, Teva.

They’ll soon discover all love has consequence, and the more forbidden the desires, the more deadly the pursuits.

Excerpt

Forbidden Pursuit
Harry F. Rey © 2018
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
A trembling fear crept over Osvai as he wandered through crystal corridors, his destination no place for the heir to the Empire of a Million Suns. High-heeled shoes clicked against the glass floor while floating robes of crimson silk swished around his legs. Thankfully, the floor wasn’t translucent, but the walls were, and outside shone the brilliant view of a bright Jiwani day, the shimmering towers of the Crystal City set against the deep-green forested hills of Alsatan in the distance. The hills were oddly misshapen: lumps of raw clay dried out and taken over by vegetation. The ones in the distance appeared as ridges etched in shadow in the ocean-blue sky.

It would not be the end of the imperium if someone spotted Osvai here on his own. But questions would be asked. Serious ones. Most likely from his uncle Viscamon. Trips to the baths were affairs of state, not jaunts for pleasure.

He may only be nineteen, but Osvai knew, with a frail father entering his one hundred and fiftieth year and a ruthless uncle on the prowl, danger lurked around any wrong turn. Hence the pink silk scarf covering his smooth black hair and wrapped tightly around his face, so anyone he passed would only see dark-brown eyes set against sunset-colored skin.

Dressed like this, he’d pass for any other highborn Kyleri noble taking a pleasurable midafternoon stroll around the artisanal boutiques and raw fish delicatessens of the Crystal City. The jewel of the planet Jiwani, heart of the ancient and powerful Kyleri Empire. Alsata itself a shimmering city with towers of pure crystal and diamond that could blind a ship’s captain long before she even approached orbit. At certain points in the summer season, the sun reflecting off the Crystal City fired beams of light deep into space. A constant reminder to the souls existing in the orbital stations and surrounding moons of an imperium with the power of a star itself.

The Royal Baths of Alsata were carved into the very crust of Jiwani, far below the Crystal City. The flow of natural volcanic water channeled into a thousand different pools throughout the cavernous labyrinth frequented daily by Kyleri nobles. The Emperor’s Pool in the center by far the largest, surrounded by multiple viewing galleries carved into the rock above for courtiers to see and be seen.

Osvai instantly recalled his trips there with his father and the rest of the imperial court; the smell of the sulfurous rock and the incredible smoothness of his skin after every visit. He used to sit, bored to infinity, splashing at the warm water’s edge as thousands of naked men milled around, conducting their business in steam baths and hot springs as military men swam never-ending laps to show off their physical prowess. Meanwhile, the inner circle of Emperor Kantori would lounge upon silken beds on the raised royal dais next to the Emperor’s Pool, their bodies slathered with oil and their muscles massaged by young servants as they traded gossip and intrigue from across the Million Suns of the Empire.

Osvai had spent many long hours as a child simply staring at those servants’ bodies, watching sweat drip down chiseled chests as thick arms worked through the fat of the imperial court. The customs and etiquette of the Royal Baths were the last fragment to a measure of supposed equality in the Kyleri system of government. Affairs of the empire conducted in hundred-degree heat amid clouds of steam and hot bubbling water came without the trappings of office. Instant judgment by a snobbish courtier based on the quality of one’s silks or the value of jewels around one’s neck was suspended. While a man must be of certain pedigree to attend the baths, indeed even to live on Jiwani, in nakedness, all men at least appeared equal.

Osvai had become so wrapped up in his thoughts he hadn’t noticed he’d nearly arrived at the elevator which would take him straight down into the bowels of the planet. A door of clouded glass opened and a gaggle of laughing men emerged wrapped in soft silks and crystal heels. Their faces colored pink from the baths and their bright skin looking fresh, peeled and scraped in preparation for the upcoming Feast of the Thirteenth Star. For a split second, Osvai wondered why they didn’t gasp in awe at his presence and bow down to the floor, as is custom upon seeing a member of the imperium, but he quickly remembered his attempt at disguise and moved aside as the men passed by him without another look. Although who could even recognize him outside of royal garb and accompanying heavy makeup was anyone’s guess.

Osvai took long, deep breaths, trying to calm his fluttering stomach; but the hot air against the silk only made him warmer. No one would ever imagine these ancient baths, which held such exalted status in the imperial court, had such a dark and dirty secret hidden within. He still wasn’t completely sure the hidden gallery was real, having pieced together its existence from the whispered snippets of hushed chatter overheard from palace servants and pleasure slaves. To think all this had been going on right under the nose of his father’s moral crusade terrified him. The elevator descending hundreds of meters into the darkness underground caused him to tremble as a rock trapped in a stream, leaving nothing but a trickling fear rushing through his ears.

The elevator doors opened into the heat of the underground. Hundreds of robed men floated around the grand entranceway to the baths, the ceiling supported by columns of carved rock. The soft light of mini-pulsars beamed down as the sound of trickling water from inside the rock mingled with the din of polite conversation of a self-serving elite. Banners of crimson hung all around them, displaying the golden thirteen-pointed star, the sigil of the Kyleri Empire.

Being alone among a flock of groups, Osvai felt rather exposed. One came to the baths as part of a social group, or with those with whom one wished to do business. So Osvai walked with haste past huddles of men, from the young and ambitious to the aging and powerful. His robes fluttered behind him and diamond heels clipped the polished rock floor. But instead of going straight toward the wide archway of the main entrance, he veered to the right. Behind a column of intricately carved rock, displaying ancient scenes from the Kyleri past, the promised service entrance emerged. A group of half a dozen older men who appeared to be royal courtiers stood near the narrow opening in the rock wall, idly chatting. Osvai’s heart almost stopped when he recognized one of their faces. He would have to walk past them to get inside. They’d wonder where he was going. He would simply die if any one of them pointed out he was going the wrong way.

Osvai kept his head down and brought the silk scarf lower over his forehead. He kept walking; there was no other choice. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought one glanced at him strangely, but before long he’d made it around the rocky corner, now shielded from any penetrating gaze. Suddenly alone, he should’ve felt relief, but only more nerves came from worrying about what further obstacles might lie ahead.

Eventually, the narrow corridor cut into the rock ended at a bolted door of heavy wood. “Poor man’s entrance” had been scrawled across the top of the doorway. Osvai recoiled for a moment at the words. The conversations he’d eavesdropped on were right. Any self-respecting Jiwani noble would run to the end of the empire before going anywhere near a poor man’s entrance. Unless of course, one knew what lay behind.

Osvai’s heart pounded far louder than the light tap he gave the door. A growing part of him worried this was all a terrible mistake. He’d let his base desires run away with him. He’d snuck out of the imperial palace for this. To be caught now was nowhere near suffering the indignity of being seen out of royal dress or walking unescorted among the people. Those behaviors could, albeit with difficulty, be explained as youthful exploration. No, this was disobedience on a whole new level.

The shame it would bring to the very heart of the imperium. The legacy of his father left in tatters by the crudest actions imaginable of his only remaining son. Actions that went against everything Emperor Kantori had dedicated his life to. The scandal would envelop the court; even the empire itself. Fornication among men with the imperial heir in the sanctity of the royal baths. It would only confirm the subtle assertions Viscamon whispered around court that Osvai was unfit to inherit the largest and most powerful empire in the galaxy.

The light tapping had worked. The door opened. Osvai swallowed hard, not listening to the pounding in his ears, and stepped into the darkness. The door closed behind him. Now there was no turning back.

“Which side are you after?” A gruff voice said. An old man wearing nothing but a loincloth and a utility belt covered in keys and tools emerged from the darkness, illuminated by a candle in his bony hand. It seemed to be the entrance to maintenance, not the pathway to debauchery.

“I’m sorry?”

“Which side?” The maintenance man held up the candle and peered into Osvai’s eyes. “If you’re after the top side you’re in the wrong place. Their entrance is from inside the baths. This is bottom only, you understand?”

Osvai swallowed, his breath hot against the scarf again. Heat radiated from the rocks cramped around him. His heart felt close to bursting out of his chest. Sweat pricked all over his body. He had to breathe. Hoping the darkness would add extra cover, he pulled off the scarf, took in a deep breath, and nodded.

“You know the rules here?”

Osvai nodded again and bit down on his bottom lip, his face now exposed in the candlelight flickering in the hot shadow of danger. He didn’t know the rules but didn’t care to either. He knew what he might get here, and that was enough. Talking would lead to thinking, and thinking would cause him to run for his life. Right now, Osvai only wanted to feel the forbidden touch of men, countless hundreds of men the hidden gallery promised. The keys jingled on the man’s belt as he apparently finished his investigation, turned away, and began to walk down the cave, holding the candle high and beckoning Osvai to follow.

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Meet the Author

Harry F. Rey is an author and lover of gay themed stories with a powerful punch with influences ranging from Alan Hollinghurst to Isaac Asimov to George R.R. Martin. He loves all things sci-fi and supernatural, and always with a gay twist. Harry is originally from the UK but lives in Jerusalem, Israel with his husband.

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