Jun 09

Book Blitz: Beer Truck by Emily Carrington (Excerpt & Giveaway)

 

Title: Beer Truck

Series: It Should Have Been You 1

Author: Emily Carrington

Publisher: Changeling Press, LLC

Release Date: June 9 2023

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 103 pages

Genre: Romance, Contemporary Romance, Rockstar, Second Chances, Gay

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Synopsis

When TJ, a famous country star, finds out he has cancer, he retreats to his hometown to heal away from the paparazzi. Uncomfortable living with his parents, he gets a job as a beer truck driver.

Harvey is the owner of a local bar. He’s been following TJ’s career because the two of them used to be lovers. But TJ insisted on being in the closet. Now that Harvey’s older, he can’t imagine burying himself like that ever again.

But when TJ walks into his bar, both men are shocked by the attraction that still blossoms between them. But neither will budge in their beliefs. How can they possibly find happiness in each other’s arms?

Excerpt

Copyright ©2023 Emily Carrington

The music for the gathering was the weirdest mix Harvey had ever heard. As he served drinks for the extremely co-ed bachelor party, he heard the Carpenters, Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings, Evanescence, Lily Allen, and a host of others that he didn’t know. He knew the music had no significance for one of the bachelors, Peter, because Peter was completely deaf. So, maybe Abe, his soon-to-be husband, had chosen everything? That didn’t seem likely. Peter and Abe were a team and rarely did anything solo anymore. Ever since their first night, when they’d met in this very bar, they’d operated almost as one unit, or at least that was how it looked from the outside.

Harvey remembered fondly approaching Abe, pronounced Ah-Bay in the Japanese style, on Christmas Eve a few years ago, asking if he and Peter wanted to be Mr. and Mrs. Claus. Considering that Abe was the shorter and smaller of the two, Harvey had presented him with the blond wig and belted jacket/skirt combination. Abe had asked Harvey to wait to offer Peter the other half of the costuming, but Harvey had jumped right in, loving Christmas in general and especially Christmas Eve at Maurice’s. He’d fumbled his explanation because even though at the time Peter could still hear the low thrum of a loud bassline, he hadn’t been able to hear speech and Harvey couldn’t sign more than “I love you.”

It had gone off rather smoothly after Abe stepped in. Harvey would never forget the way Peter’s eyes widened with obvious appreciation and lust as he’d viewed Abe in that red skirt.

Now, here they were, ready to get married in a couple of days.

Harvey pressed his lips together and turned away from the sight of the couple swaying on the dance floor, Abe guiding Peter with discreet touches that looked only slightly sexual. But from the shine of Peter’s eyes, he was feeling the full effects of his lover’s motions.

Being grumpy at a couple’s bachelor party wasn’t kosher or polite, so Harvey refocused on pouring drinks. Or would have, if anyone had been there asking for more. Instead, everyone, damn, every single person in the bar, was paired up and dancing.

Harvey bit his tongue to keep from frowning or showing any other sign of displeasure. He wasn’t actually displeased, just feeling left out. Granted, on nights like this, he or whoever was tending bar usually made a hefty surplus of tips, but he hadn’t wanted to be here for this. He had been invited, told he could bring a plus one. But he had to work instead. His business partner, CeeCee, was busy. Her daughter had some sort of medical emergency. And the regular Saturday afternoon bartender had COVID.

He tried to focus on thoughts of CeeCee’s daughter, who was like a niece to him, but he honestly couldn’t, and not just because CeeCee hadn’t revealed the nature of her teenager’s medical issue.

It was the sheer number of couples. From Mike and Aidan Delaney, easily the oldest pair in the room, to their nonbinary young adult, Ash and Ash’s lover, Theresa, the youngest, everybody was in a twosome. He wasn’t jealous. Or at least he refused to be where anyone could see him. But, damn, he missed having someone in his life.

All right, that wasn’t exactly true. He had occasional flings. But nothing serious. Not since college. Even his three-week, whirlwind relationship with CeeCee had ended, although not badly. They’d both decided working and sleeping together wasn’t for them. During that time, he’d casually referred to CeeCee as his partner, more out of desperation to have someone in his life than because he’d actually thought they had a hope in hell of making things work out. When they’d broken up right after Christmas, he’d blushed to think he’d given her that title.

He longed for a return to the days of his early twenties, when life had been a song and —

“And I was trapped in the closet, banging a man who dropped me the first chance he got.” Realizing he’d been speaking aloud, if softly, Harvey shut his mouth. And here came Aidan, almost the tallest man in the room as well as the oldest. Okay, oldest among the partygoers. At forty-two, Harvey had a year on him. And, damn it, he was the only single person here.

Forcing a smile, knowing the blind man couldn’t see it but also understanding the expression would carry in his voice, Harvey asked, “Get you anything, Aidan?”

“Just wanted to check on Dustin and CeeCee.”

That made Harvey’s smile genuine. “Dusty has the VID, which he’s probably tweeted to half the town by now because he’s so bored. He doesn’t have many symptoms but knows our zero-tolerance policy. CeeCee…” What could he say when he knew so little and wasn’t sure what she wanted bandied around? “She’s okay.”

Aidan nodded. “And you’re okay?”

Damn it, the man was too perceptive for someone who couldn’t see light or dark. Or maybe it was just a casual question. Maybe Harvey was just being paranoid because he’d had run-ins with Aidan’s intuitiveness before. So, instead of lying, because that might be caught, he asked, “How’s Mike? Are you two really going to go for a third adopted child?”

Aidan grinned. “Mike’s fabulous, and yes we are.” Then he sobered. “But are you okay?”

Damn. He should’ve known he couldn’t fly under the radar. “I’ll be fine.”

“Anything I can do?”

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Meet the Author

Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender women’s speculative fiction. Seeking a world made of equality, she created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires. And in the contemporary world she’s named “Sticks & Stones,” Emily has vowed to create small towns where prejudice is challenged by a passionate quest for equality. Find her on Facebook at Shapeshifter Central or on her website.

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Jun 06

New Release Blitz: Magic, Monsters, and Me by Timoteo Tong (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Magic, Monsters, and Me

Series: The Magicals’ Alliance, Book One

Author: Timoteo Tong

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 06/06/2023

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 126400

Genre: Fantasy, YA, coming of age, LGBT, angsty, supernatural, magic

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Description

Sixteen-year-old Elijah Delomary wants to be a normal boy, riding his skateboard, reading his favorite books, and playing with his familiar, Boxey. His mother expects him to practice magic and fight the monsters who are hurting ordinaries, but he’d rather spend time with his new best friend, Austin.

As their friendship deepens and an old nemesis—Devlina, the Queen of the Gloom—threatens to destroy the universe, Elijah has to decide what’s more important: magic, family, or love?

Excerpt

Magic, Monsters, and Me
Timoteo Tong © 2023
All Rights Reserved

Fifteen-year-old Austin Kang Jr., well over six feet tall, lean and lanky with a mop of black hair falling over his eyes, adjusted the thick black glasses on his face. He studied the white stone and glass mansion jutting out over a hillside on North Sunset Canyon Drive. The house appeared to have good feng shui, with a Southern exposure to allow absorption of positive chi, a panoramic view of the Valley below, and a clear path to the front door.

Feng shui was important to Austin and his parents. They believed it helped center their family and keep them grounded and safe. Austin and his parents were descended from a long line of Magicals called Glimmerers who could tap into a glimmer of magic and twist, turn, and manipulate it as if it were hot ore being turned into a sword.

Coaugelus, as they were known in the Old Language, the mother tongue of the Magicals, were a class of warriors. They defended Magicals and Ordinaries, or humans without magic, from dark forces, creatures, and monsters that lived in the dark shadows of Earth—a place called the Gloom.

Coaugelus, Magicals, and Ordinaries lived in the light in our world, also known as the Shimmering. Everywhere that the sun touched was part of the Shimmering. Austin, his parents, even the people driving by in cars, walking their dogs, and watering their lawns shimmered and lived in the light.

Long ago, the Gloom and the Shimmering met face-to-face in a great war that killed and destroyed countless Ordinaries, Magicals, and monsters. The war raged on and reached a crescendo. A Pàcifimenta, a treaty among Ordinaries, Magicals, and the Gloom was signed. The war ended. Peace settled over the Shimmering and the Gloom.

Still, many in the Coven, the collective of monsters in the Gloom, did not agree with the Pàcifimenta. They didn’t like that they had to sacrifice feeding on Ordinaries or haunting, possessing, or simply terrorizing them. Others wanted power to control the Coven, and to defeat the peace created by the Pàcifimenta. Some creatures didn’t like peace as part of their nature. These monsters were fought by Coaugelus like Austin and his family.

Austin loved three things in life: playing soccer (known as football back home in Hong Kong), listening to grunge music like his dad, and fighting the Coven. For Austin, being a Coaugelo gave him a purpose in life and a place where he felt like he belonged. He particularly enjoyed kicking, punching, and using Xem Sen Ou, the ancient martial art from Minerva in Old Earth in the Seventh Dimension where all Magicals came from.

He also fancied his PlasmX, a purple plasma staff that folded into nondescript metal object akin to a lighter that he always carried with him. He had used it only last night while hunting down a group of rather angry werewolves, or Malloupus, that were attacking tourists at the night market in Kowloon. Austin enjoyed watching the pure purple plasma slice through the heads and arms of werewolves that were in the middle of reaping the souls of innocent Ordinaries.

Austin loved saving Ordinaries from monsters.

“What’s our assignment?” Austin asked his parents.

“Trouble is breaking out within the Coven here in Los Angeles,” said Austin Sr.

Austin and his family spoke with posh accents, a holdover from when Hong Kong was a colony of the UK. “We’re here to investigate and report back to XAQ2,” continued Austin Sr.

“Bleedin’ hell,” Austin complained. “XAQ2 are wankers. Full of rules. Can’t we simply report to the Anti-Coven League and be done with it?”

“Xutactiendo Allégansa Qu’elicallen Duzo have moved more operations of the League from the clandestine to the legal,” said Austin Sr.

“What does that mean?” Austin asked.

“The Alliance is strained and weakened. As leaders of the Alliance, the Còngréhassa are trying to placate their counterparts in the Coven and maintain the Pàcifimenta. Part of that entails relying more on formal procedures. The League works in secret, whereas XAQ2 works through formal channels as the official body of the Alliance.”

“Tossers,” Austin said. “XAQ2 can all go to hell as far as I’m concerned.”

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

 

Meet the Author

Timoteo K. Tong grew up in the San Fernando Valley of Los Angeles dreaming of living in a rambling Victorian mansion. He currently lives with his husband and way too many plants in San Francisco. He is obsessed with cheese pizza, drinking cola, and daydreaming about magic. He sold his first book when he was age eight, a story about his beloved stuffed animal named Crocker Spaniel. He is a member of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators International.

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Jun 06

New Release Blitz: A Love So Dark by Rien Gray (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  A Love So Dark

Series: Fatal Fidelity, Book Four

Author: Rien Gray

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 06/06/2023

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: F/NB

Length: 49900

Genre: Contemporary, contemporary, romance/ noir, suspense, nonbinary, queer, bisexual, interracial, established couple, assassin, artist, Mafia, imprisonment, courtroom drama, FBI agents, revenge, graphic violence, #ownvoices

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Description

The visceral conclusion to the Fatal Fidelity series.

After Justine and Campbell’s beachside vacation is interrupted by the FBI, Campbell is arrested for murder and arson. The evidence leaves them in an impossible position: either take the fall for an assassination they didn’t commit or confess to a killing they already got away with.

When an aggressive federal agent starts uncovering Campbell’s secrets, it’s only a matter of time before the other bodies they’ve buried come back to the surface. With Campbell behind bars, Justine can’t prove their innocence, but she can take matters into her own hands.

She just has to commit the perfect crime—before they both lose everything.

Excerpt

A Love So Dark
Rien Gray © 2023
All Rights Reserved

Justine

I’m on a beach fifty-two hundred miles away from home, and the person I love the most is doing unspeakable things between my legs.

Campbell started much lower, massaging every last ounce of tension out of my calves, a kiss placed on each unraveled knot. They’re too damn patient, spending as much time offering worship to the hollow where calf meets knee as they do running the hot length of their tongue up a quivering cord of need along the inside of my thigh. From above, the view is perfect—broad planes of muscle moving through their back like a beautiful puzzle, interlocking pieces I’ve memorized with nails and teeth—and there’s a singular pleasure in watching Campbell crawl toward the border of shadow draped across my hips.

We’re out in the open with no cover but an umbrella and a long white towel, although the pitch-black sand around us is mercifully empty. Campbell paid extensively for our solitude; privacy comes at a premium in Viña del Mar. I’ve never been comfortable with the thought of strangers waiting on me hand and foot, but a very distant lifeguard who promised to look the other way? Turns out to be the unexpected key to indulgence.

Teeth scrape over the string of my bikini, clinging to the swell of my hip, and I shudder. “You’re torturing me.”

“Am I?” Gray eyes flicker upward, burgeoning with desire intense as the tide. “Torture usually makes you scream.”

I bite off oh god on my tongue when Campbell finally strips me bare, dragging my bottoms down and out of the way. Not that the swimsuit was covering much to begin with. For the first time in my life, I dressed for the vacation of my dreams, with a wardrobe designed to distract my notoriously focused assassin from everything but touching me. A flawless execution thus far; we’ve shared an animal mood since touching down at Santiago International, cycling between eating and fucking until exhaustion forces us to sleep.

After this morning, I should be sore, yet the memory of Campbell handcuffing me to our hotel bed and taking me from behind sends a renewed pulse of heat to my clit. Hiding my arousal is impossible when they part me with their fingers and trace a slick, clear line down to the entrance of my pussy. Logically, I know no one can see us, but the idea that someone might be watching as I arch my back and moan ignites another intense frisson of heat through my body, echoed again when Campbell wraps their lips around me and sucks.

Keeping my hands still is a pointless exercise. I find a hold in the back of chestnut hair, running my thumb across the dark velvet of Campbell’s freshly buzzed nape. They muffle a groan against oversensitive skin, and I gasp, tightening my grip. Their tongue darts inside me just long enough to earn a whimper, but Campbell’s mouth is everywhere: spreading me open, kissing swollen folds, painting circles over my clit. Hungry, starved, a beast I’ve leashed around the heart and refuse to let go of.

Rolling my hips into the constant friction only makes the feeling sharper, bliss spiking across my nerves as a brutal electric spark. Whenever I catch a glimpse of Campbell’s gaze, their eyes burn through me, seared black with need. My entire world collapses to salt and heat—sweat and the ocean colliding with noonday sun, and the fire Campbell continues to stoke, low and visceral. The next time I clench, two of their fingers push into me, curling deep enough to force a cry from the bottom of my throat.

“Fuck, Campbell—” I almost choke on their name, riding that tight, trembling spiral on the edge of release. So close I can taste it, but held out of reach. “Please, make me—”

Our games fall away with their next rough thrust. Ecstasy eclipses my vision, bursts of chiaroscuro behind every staggered heartbeat. Campbell moves without remorse, drawing out my orgasm until I can’t do anything but breathe and sob, the pressure from within and without meeting at a white-hot point deep inside me. My nails bite into the back of their neck, a brand of warning, and the seal of their mouth breaks with a truly obscene sound.

I shiver in the aftermath, coming back to myself. Campbell rises from between my knees to claim a kiss, messy but sweet, sweat rising off their skin. Telling them to lay still and get doused in sunscreen earlier was fun, especially when I had to make sure it got everywhere—wouldn’t want them to burn, after all.

They’re comfortable enough to be out here shirtless, which is new. Another bonus of our pure isolation is Campbell wearing nothing but a sinfully tight pair of swim shorts with subtle triangle cuts around the thighs, fabric straining with every flex of muscle. I take advantage of our position to give their ass a firm grope, which startles a low laugh from their lips, faint but genuine.

“Ready to go again?” Campbell asks.

Despite the temptation to tease, I need a breather. “No. I’m just appreciating the view.”

For once, they’re the only thing I have to think about. Two months ago, I sold my ownership stake in the art gallery to Dalia at a friendly discount. She and her ex-girlfriend—now wife—plan to split the space between displaying art and an experimental photography studio so Nia can establish her career stateside. After years long spent building her portfolio across Europe and Asia, she agreed with Dalia to settle down, and I signed the contract for the happy couple with a smile.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Rien Gray is a queer, nonbinary writer who has worked in ghostwriting, TTRPGS, and video games. They have a treasured (and ever-growing) collection of LGBTQ+ history books as well as a deep, abiding love for Greek myth. Rien has an upcoming short story in Neon Hemlock’s Baffling Magazine. They live in Ireland.

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Jun 02

Book Blitz: Sympathy for the Devil by Stephanie Burke (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Sympathy for the Devil

Author: Stephanie Burke

Publisher: Changeling Press

Release Date: May 26, 2023

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Female, Male/Male

Length: 412 pages

Genre: Romance, Thriller/Suspense, Action Adventure, Rockstar Romance, Multicultural & Interracial, Bisexual Pansexual & Multisexual, Gay, Dark Fantasy, Paranormal

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Synopsis

The rock gods of the band Abadon are falling hard, but their would-be killers are getting closer…

Charle (Sympathy For the Devil 1): Reporter Charle Lexington latest gig is covering the last leg of Abadon’s American tour. After a confrontation at a concert, he loses himself in a one-night stand. Now he’s finding it hard to forget the stranger he screwed, even if he never saw his face.

Abadon (Sympathy For the Devil 2): Abadon is a Rock god… literally. He’s discovered a way to ease his depression — mindless sex with complete strangers. He’s becoming obsessed with the snarly reporter who’s covering him and decides showing Charle how to party will be the perfect distraction from the one who got away. But Charle’s getting out of control. Abadon is falling hard, but Charle just wants to have fun.

Rise By Sin (Sympathy For the Devil 3): Python, the god of the moon, is more than just the quiet guitar god from the band. In another time, in another place, he was pure Sin. Orion’s not like the other boys — in fact he was born a she, but he never let that get in the way of a good time. Now he’s sure he’s met the man of his dreams… he just never expected that man to be a god.

Bang One Out (Sympathy For the Devil 4): Being on the flight crew on a private jet will give Aika a lot of material to work with… like the sexy-hot crazies from the band Abadon. But what’s a woman to do when the man she’s crushing on big time saves her life — and claims to be an ancient god?

Mischief Managed (Sympathy For the Devil 5): Apollon, the god of mischief, wants to get back to living his best life, but the pale god can’t catch a break. The FBI is asking questions about the plane crash, social media is amazed the band survived, and their would-be killers are getting closer. But even he can fall in love… which begs the question, can Mischief ever be managed?

Excerpt

Excerpt from Charle

“You just plain suck.” Charle Lexington stared at his ex, and the bitch he’d cheated on him with… and the friend of the bitch he had cheated with’s best friend, whom he was also fucking.

Now would be a good time to let the floor open up and swallow him whole.

“Maybe if you learned to do that a bit better, I wouldn’t have to go and find Andy and Candy.”

Instead of opening his mouth and letting the asshole have it with both barrels, Charle rolled his eyes, crossed his arms over his Iron Man Pony T-shirt, and silently imagined the worst happening to his ex.

Then something, a strange awareness in him, poked him hard in the self-esteem. He couldn’t let the spray tanned asshole get away with embarrassing him like this. He was better than that wannabe Dr. Dre any three hundred sixty four and three-fourths days of the year. He wanted war? He was going to get it.

“Well, if you had something a little bit bigger than a thumb to practice on, maybe I’d be better,” he mused aloud, giving Dick a bright smile that showed all of his surgically corrected teeth. “I’m not saying you have a small dick, but when the whole thing fits in my mouth and can’t even reach the middle of my tongue… well…” He let his words trail off as he grinned at his ex-Dick. “You’re the only Richard I know who wants to be called Dick. Overcompensating much?”

“Bitch,” Dick growled, rising to his feet in an attempt to be intimidating, but it was kind of hard to be intimidating when you had to wear lifts in your classic throwback Adidas to reach the coveted six-foot height… a height that guaranteed that not too many people would notice his receding hairline.

Except Charle was six-feet three inches in his bare feet. Sometimes life was good.

“Yes, I am,” Charle purred. “I learned it from watching you.”

“Like anyone else would want you,” Dick growled as the twins twittered from behind their hands, their matching neon nails making glowing trails that threatened to give him a headache in the low light of the venue.

The Stage was a small studio/auditorium that catered to the elite in the rock world. Everyone from the Stones to the Who, from Prince to Snoop Dogg had played private gigs there. Usually the invitees received an email on the same day as the event, inviting them to come and take place in the making of history. Established bands used the venues to announce tours, introduce their hottest new discoveries, showcase new or replacement talents, or to just kick back and jam without the complications of stage make-up, rock personas, and screaming groupies to get in the way of the fun. Tonight Abadon had taken the stage to announce the last leg of their American tour and that they would be taking a small hiatus afterwards to create a new sound.

Charle had gotten his email late, as he was out interviewing the latest stripper- turned-female-rap-sensation, and didn’t get to check his emails on his phone until his three hours were up with Miss Thang.

She was surprisingly intelligent and forthright about her career goals, her past, and what she intended for the future. She also demanded his full attention as she strutted around the basement studio of her new house, complete with stripper pole, while they talked politics and fashion.

He had raced to get to The Stage and had missed the performance and announcement by minutes. But that was okay. He could still interview those who were invited, pick up a press packet, and watch The Other, Abadon’s warm-up band, perform. The Other was a small alternative rap band, kind of like Twenty One Pilots, that was gaining quite the name for itself. The members were entertaining as hell to watch on stage. They kind of made the audience feel like they were part of one big joke instead of condescending to them. Charle didn’t think that Dick would be here or, with misplaced sarcasm and snark, he would intercept Charle on his way to find a seat.

“Oh, a lot of people want me, Dick,” he snickered, while trying to control the inner bullshit meter that was ringing quite loudly in his head. “It’s hard to be so sexy.”

Charle had been dateless and even worse, sexless since he discovered Dick fucking the twins in the backseat of his car years ago. His ’69 Pontiac Firebird was his baby and to have it so defiled by that fool in the velour sweat suit sitting there…

He mourned the abuse of his car far more than he mourned the explosion of their relationship. He did have fun marching up to his studio apartment and activating his LoJack, reporting that his car was the victim of a break-in, which it technically was. He had never given Dick the keys or permission to even breathe on his car, let alone set his cheap materialistic ass inside of it.

Dick had not been amused when the police showed up and arrested him for breaking and entering, public nudity, lewd behavior, and engaging in sexual acts in public. Charle got to play shocked lover who had no idea that his boyfriend of three years had broken into his car and was cheating on him.

The officers, who were very sympathetic even if subtly grossed out, were all too happy to arrest Dick and talk to Charle about pressing charges. No, Dick didn’t live with him. He did not have permission to be at Charle’s apartment or in his car. He was a reporter who had been covering Aerosmith all week and had only moments before arrived at his home. See? There was his plane ticket and photographs of him and Steven Tyler at breakfast that morning. They all agreed that it was a passive-aggressive way to break up and from the way Dick was cursing at him, it could turn violent. Tall, thin Charle would be no match for his thicker, angry ex in a fight, so maybe he should go upstairs and let another nice officer take his statement and see about a restraining order.

Charle did that before he took his car to get deloused and detailed.

Dick’s shocked face would have been almost comedic if it wasn’t so tragic as a trio of officers cuffed and stuffed him in the back of a police car with just his long T-shirt covering his modesty while the twins were taken away in a second car with a lesser charge of accessory to breaking and entering and public lewd behavior.

Ever since then, he had been singing Pink’s You and Your Hand Tonight to himself. Then there was his Bob… Battery Operated Boyfriends were the best. They didn’t cheat on you or defile your most prized possession, and when you were done with them, you cleaned them off and threw them in a drawer.

Now he was kind of regretting that as he really didn’t have a final comeback for Dick or the ability to lie worth a damn.

“You couldn’t get laid if you bend over, spread your cheeks, and tattoo <i>cum dump</i> around your asshole. You are pathetic, Charle, a pathetic sad, lonely old man in a twig of a body.”

Charle could respond in kind or he could be mature, walk away, ignore Dick, and try to enjoy the music that was coming.

And there was the third option, throwing a punch.

Charle decided to throw a damn punch. The drink that Dick spilled all over him and his companions was just a bonus as far as he was concerned.

In the midst of the squealing and bodies flying around — the twins — and blood gushing from noses — well, one nose that belonged to Dick — Charle ducked down and slipped away in the darkness of the gathering crowd.

No one in their right mind would think that prim and proper Charle Lexington would throw a punch much less get into any conflict. Charle was considered a good guy, nonconfrontational, maybe even sweet and innocent, definitely not one to start trouble. Security moved right past him and he ducked into a quiet dark room, hoping to find a place to chill out while Dick ether settled down or left. The rich producer had already taken a beating in the papers after his arrest and the reasons for it were made public and even though years had passed, he couldn’t afford another scandal, especially one involving a so prim and proper, upstanding gay black man like his poor cuckolded ex.

He had no idea the room was occupied until the first moaned complaint reached his ears.

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Changeling Press | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iTunes

Meet the Author

Stephanie is a USA Today Best Selling, multi published, multi award-winning author, Master Costumer, handicapped, wife and mother of two.

From sex-shifting, shape-shifting dragons to undersea worlds, sexually confused elemental Fey and homo-erotic mysteries, all the way to pastel-challenged urban sprites, Stephanie has done it all, and hopes to do more.

Stephanie is an orator on her favorite subjects of writing and world-building, a sometime teacher when you feed her enough tea and donuts, an anime nut, a costumer, and a frequent guest of various sci-fi and writing cons where she can be found leading panel discussions or researching varied legends and theories to improve her writing skills.

Stephanie is known for her love of the outrageous, strong female characters, believable worlds, male characters filled with depth, and multi-cultural stories that make the reader sit up and take notice.

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May 30

New Release Blitz: Make Like Mountains by BL Jones (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Make Like Mountains

Series: Liquid Onyx, Book Two

Author: BL Jones

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 05/30/2023

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 130800

Genre: Science Fiction, Fantasy, humour, family-drama, gay, bisexual, pansexual, superhero, crime gang, magic, PTSD, slow burn, friends to lovers

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Description

Four months ago, Rexley Nova exploded into Danger City, fought some villains, saved some people, and became the vigilante known by the media as ‘Wrath’.

Alongside the superpowered friends he grew up with and Danger’s resident hero, Polaris, Rex is doing his best to protect the city and save the world on the regular, while also attempting to curb some of his more violent tendencies and figure out what the villainous group of Mages he’s been fighting are up to.

Through all this, Rex has to contend with his feelings for two men; Damon, a dangerous and aloof superhero, the one person who understands what being a vigilante means to Rex, and Jamie, his best friend’s older brother who he’s felt an intense connection with almost his entire life.

Rex battles violent superhumans, saves snarky children, gets himself a sidekick, deals with his extremely weird family, goes on a disastrous date, and continues to fistfight his own anxiety. #Traumaisthenewblack.

Excerpt

Make Like Mountains
BL Jones © 2023
All Rights Reserved

Mia

I would like to believe every bad choice I’ve made was rooted in altruism, through the pursuit of discovery. Even if I was wrong more often than I was right. Even if my bad choices led to so much suffering. Even if my regret is endless and true and as raw now as it was over fifteen years ago.

In the beginning, all I wanted to do was help. A simple, if at times directionless, goal. When I started out, I didn’t know what I was capable of. I didn’t know what other people were capable of either.

I often think of my daughter and how, when she was a child, I would tell her everyone makes mistakes.

And everyone does. It’s a rare truth that parents tell their children.

What parents usually fail to say, though, is the hardest mistakes to live with are the ones we can do nothing about. The decisions we make that ripple out of our control and cause irreparable damage to other people. Those mistakes echo throughout the rest of our lives, twisting and shaping our futures and ourselves into something, someone, unrecognisable. Perhaps someone we told ourselves we would never become.

If asked to explain the worst of my choices, I could say many things. I could say I was swept up in the tidal wave of genius that was Dr Alexander Nova. I could say I didn’t think it would go as far as it did. I could say I was forced and manipulated by Obsidian Inc. to do things I would never have done otherwise.

I was tricked, I was hurt, I was forced.

I could lay claim to those justifications.

But it would be a lie. And I wouldn’t stoop to that. I abhor people who make excuses for the acts of evil they commit.

I was not conned into it. I was not abused in my past. I was not coerced or blackmailed.

I made every single one of my mistakes with my eyes wide open. It doesn’t make it any easier to forgive myself for those sins, but at least I can accept the depth of my corruption for what it is.

I have spent over a decade trying to correct the mistakes I made as a young woman. And for over a decade, I have been unsuccessful.

My continued failure has led me here, to the point I am at now. I tried to avoid these extreme measures. It is not what I wanted. But there comes a time when we must take the first step on the hardest path. There comes a time when we must do what pains us most. A time when we use the corruption inside us to reverse the corruption we inflicted on others. Or, in my case, the world.

I have failed to heal the festering wounds I once helped claw into the skin of our society.

Almost a month after my second attempt, I find myself sitting in my daughter’s flat with a cup of quickly cooling tea in my hands.

We’re scrunched up on her shaggy green sofa, both of us sans shoes. Usually, I would relish the opportunity to be here with Andy. I enjoy our simple, quiet moments together. I enjoy hearing Andy tell me stories about her life, her work, her friends, her latest spat with her girlfriend, Dru, over whose turn it was to take out the bins.

But today I cannot seem to get to grips with myself. It isn’t hard to think of the reason why.

We have lost many in the two failed attempts to begin our eradication of corrupted blood. Our mission was worth the loss. I still believe that. But after our second attempt, some are wavering.

It was inevitable. One failure can be chalked up to a lack of experience and bad luck. Two is the beginning of a pattern.

There is grief and resentment to contend with now. There are those who do not believe we are capable of the task set before us.

Some want to give up while they still have their freedom and their lives. I understand the urge, the fear. I’ve felt it myself.

But our work is not done.

I cannot allow us to spiral.

We have sacrificed too much. I have had to take from them to steady us, and they will not forget that.

After the disaster of the park concert, I tried to rectify what had been done in the name of our cause.

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Meet the Author

BL Jones is a twentysomething British author who spends all her free time reading and writing and taming her three much younger brothers. She works as a BSL interpreter in Bristol and lives with a temperamental bunny named Pepsi. She’s been writing stories since she was five, rarely sharing them with anyone except her numerous stuffed animals. BL has had a difficult journey into discovering and accepting her own queerness, and therefore believes that positive, honest, and authentic stories about queer people are very important. She hopes to contribute her own stories for people to have fun with and enjoy.

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May 19

Book Blitz: Haint Upon a Time by J Halie Steele (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Haint Upon a Time

Series: Haints Misbehaving 5

Author: J Halie Steele

Publisher: Changeling Press

Release Date: May 19. 2023

Heat Level: 5 – Erotica

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 31 pages

Genre: Erotica, Dark Fantasy, Paranpormal, Gay, Multiple Partners, Dark Desite, Magic, Sorcery, and Witchcraft

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Synopsis

Warning: This is a Razor’s Edge Paranormal Erotica Story. Expect limited plot and character development, and lots of paranormal heat. If you’re looking for a lengthy plot driven erotic romance, this is not it!

Luke ransacks the brain of every man whose body he steals before their memories fade. He’s learned how to make their homes and money his forever. It’s illegal as hell, but so is appropriating a body! Luke never searches out poor souls, but when a special man falls in his lap, he vows to keep him until he’s no longer useful.

Dallas spends his days on a beach bordering a hotel where he meets wealthy men who appreciate his prowess in the bedroom. He takes ribbing about his name and height in stride — the most vital part of him isn’t small. Often, the men he hooks up with don’t want to let him go. But if Dallas ever finds a man who truly wants to keep him it will cost them!

Excerpt

Copyright ©2023 J. Hali Steele

Luke struggled to stem the rising aroma of cedar as his dick bulged behind his thin white cotton beach pants. The towel lying across his lap would have been tented if he hadn’t kept his magazine strategically positioned. If pressed, he wouldn’t have been able to describe a single beachgoer who had ambled by his chair. Luke saw only one man. The surfer who’d set up his station on the beach just beyond the security fence was distractingly beautiful.

Maybe twenty-five, relatively short in stature, the man’s unruly reddish blond hair was worn a bit long on top. The rest of his body appeared to be hairless — which fit Luke’s fantasies perfectly. Fit, but not bound in muscle, the stranger’s freckled skin appeared to have been kissed for days, maybe months, by the sun. The pronounced bulge in his snug swimwear revealed the generous size of his dick. “I want to see that cock bare and engorged,” Luke whispered.

The smell of cedar distracted his attention from the gorgeous surfer. Sniffing, Luke twisted to survey the hotel grounds. A haint! The man stood no more than a foot behind him, but he was no threat to Luke. Shameless, he had his fat cock out and the crown shone with pre-cum. As he worked his hand up and down his length, dots of liquid slid over the broad crown. God, the sight was beautiful. Luke couldn’t tear his gaze away.

Dropping his magazine, Luke slipped a hand inside his loose-fitting pants. The cap of his dick was already wet, and smearing precum along his length made jerking the skin up and down easy. Within minutes he was ready to send a gush of sperm into his underwear. He didn’t even care that they’d become sticky and clung to his crotch.

Luke knew hooking up with another haint was not a good idea. Fortunately, his only other liaison with a haint served as a reminder to keep away from those like himself.

Singlemindedness and restraint had been taught to him by a traveling pastor whose name Luke could no longer recall. Luke could see his pretty face in his mind’s eye, though, and knew the man presided behind the pulpit the last Sunday of every month in Laurel Bloomery’s only house of God. There had been another man caught in the church man’s web of carnal deviousness and Luke often pondered what had become of him, as well as the pastor.

Finding another haint here shouldn’t have surprised Luke, but what were the odds he’d come across a being like himself on a beach in Los Angeles? And he didn’t recognize the man. This was the first haint he’d met who didn’t hail from Laurel Bloomery, Tennessee.

Philadelphia was the first city Luke had settled in, and for a time it was all his. Crossing paths with another haint there some time ago, Luke had damn near followed one of the ghostly beings into an eatery where he perceived at least one more whose aroma was vaguely familiar. Ah, their combined scents — so enticing.

Turned out the restaurant, Brake Away, was a hotbed of the creatures who used humans for sexual gratification, then discarded the bodies they’d squatted in. They weren’t exactly alive, unless they were inhabiting someone else’s body, and in that case, they were unlawful tenants. How often could a human completely disappear off the face of the earth before authorities became curious?

Luke had discovered containing a haint once they were on the loose was pretty much impossible. Until they inhabited a body, haints were apparitions — smoke — and unmanageable. Once they’d escaped, there was no telling where they’d turn up or whose body they would commandeer. And the idea of getting one to willingly return to their small cedar chest was laughable.

Luke had left Philadelphia behind and moved to the West Coast. He’d disassembled the box he’d previously been held prisoner in and now kept it in a safe, locked away on a secluded piece of private property he’d managed to transfer into his own name. He’d briefly occupied a shady character who knew a forger who could reproduced legal documents with Luke’s real signature and photograph.

As long as local authorities had no reason to dig deeper, Luke had his own bank account and lots of other pricey things. Most important of all, he owned a home.

Keeping a low profile and not wishing to have strangers visit his property, Luke often rented a suite in a nice beachfront hotel to find a companion for carnal release. Thanks to the one who had caught Luke’s eye, nothing was working to suppress his desire. Lord, Luke fought his body’s growing excitement at the memory. Am I the only haint who feels remorse?

But there were two of them here now, and the smell of cedar permeated the air. Nothing would deter Luke from what he desired. Little did the surfer know what was about to occur — how drastically his life was going to change.

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Meet the Author

Growl and roar — it’s okay to let the beast out. — J. Hali Steele

J. Hali Steele wishes she could grow fur, wings, or fangs, so she can stay warm, fly, or just plain bite the crap out of… Well, she can’t do those things but she wishes she could!

J. Hali’s a multi-published Amazon bestselling author of Romance in Paranormal, Fantasy, and Contemporary worlds which include ReligErotica and LGBTQ stories where humans, vampyres, shapeshifters and angels collide — and they collide a lot! When J. Hali’s not writing or reading, she can be found snuggled in front of the TV with a cat in her lap, and a cup of coffee.

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May 19

New Release Blitz: The Man With Sapphire Eyes by Larry Mellman (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  The Man With Sapphire Eyes

Series: The Ballot Boy, Book Two

Author: Larry Mellman

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 05/16/2023

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 96100

Genre: Historical, historical/14th century Venice, lit/genre fiction, gay, new adult, interracial, political rulers, political intrigue and plotting, wartime action and adventure, gore, family drama, betrayal

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Description

In this exciting sequel, disaster threatens Nico, ballot boy to the doge, as neighboring Padua launches an undeclared war. Mistrustful of diplomats and spies, the doge dispatches Nico on a secret mission to the court of King Louis of Hungary to gauge the king’s resolve to aid Padua.

The doge also drafts Donato Venturi, the greatest swordsman in Venice, nicknamed Black Hercules, as Nico’s adviser and bodyguard. It’s love at first sight for Nico, but he knows nothing about Donato, the son of a Venetian noble and a princess of Mali. Assuming Donato is straight, Nico guards his feelings until an unlikely encounter at the Prior of Brotherly Love proves otherwise.

The pair steal moments together, but the war changes everything. Cutthroat political struggles with his own nobles keeps the doge busy in Venice as Nico again confronts the carnage of battle, testing his cunning. This brings him face-to-face with his nemeses, Ruggiero and Marcantonio Gradenigo, forcing an unplanned rescue of his soulmate, Alex.

When the war goes disastrously for Venice, the fate of the Serene Republic hangs on the will of the doge and the skills of Nico and Donato. Desperate to defeat Padua and drive out the Hungarian invaders, they risk everything in a final gambit to checkmate in three. In love as in war, winning and losing aren’t what they seem.

Excerpt

The Man with Sapphire Eyes
Larry Mellman © 2023
All Rights Reserved

Donato Venturi

I’m safe as long as I’m rowing. No enemy has ever successfully breached the mercurial lagoon surrounding Venice on all sides. For three glorious miles I row free, my stroke easy and automatic. I spent my youth on the lagoon until, at fourteen years and nine months of age, I was randomly selected ballot boy against my will and inclination. Taken from my mother, from my friends, from my home, and installed in the palace with the doge as my boss, my rowing time turned into riding and Latin lessons. I still ache at times for an oar in my hands and a breeze riffling my long black hair.

Midway between the Doge’s Palace and Marghera, one of our ports on terrafirma, with the sun in my eyes and the scent of the lagoon in my nose, I savor a moment of sweet peace before embarking on my new mission. Our neighbor and enemy, Lord Francesco Carrara of Padua, regularly burns our farms and plunders our mainland towns. Our amorphous shoreline teems with crooks, assassins, and spies. I don’t wear a sword because I wouldn’t know how to use one, but my crossbow is at hand, and my dagger hangs at my waist with a special kiss of poison along its razor-sharp edge. I’m rowing to meet a man I’ve never seen in a place I have never been. Serenissimo assured me I needn’t worry, that I would know him straight off, and I trust any man stamped with the doge’s imprimatur. He rides from Treviso fortress, ours, to meet me at the inn by the tower of Marghera at Vespers.

I tether my boat in the shadow of the three-story brick watchtower, the lower course of obvious Roman origin. The Romans never ventured onto the marshy islands of the lagoon, confining themselves to solid ground. I stash my crossbow and quiver in my boat, expecting no danger at the inn, only a new friend.

Fishermen’s huts clustered at the base of the tower enclose a crude square deserted in the late afternoon. The tower looms overhead, a rook on a chessboard spreading from Carrara Castle in Padua to St. Mark’s Square. At the back of the square, outside the inn, three men—desperados, mercenaries, or thugs—watch me approach with an unhealthy interest. None of them looks likely to be Donato Venturi. I place my hand on my dagger to show them I mean business. The doge’s ring glints on my finger. Those who respect the power of the doge see the ring as a talisman; those who don’t see only a large chunk of gold. One more step and I clearly pick out the splayed red carts, the carros of the Carrara, on their blood- and mud-spattered tunics.

“Aw, ain’t he pretty?”

“You heard about those Venetian butt boys. Better than women, they say.”

As I unsheathe my dagger, three longswords lunge at me, their wielders laughing at the notion that a dagger could protect me from them. I stumble backward, catch myself, stand as tall as possible, and hold up the doge’s ring. “Arms down in the name of His Exalted Serenity, the Doge of Venice.”

“Exalted Fucking Asshole, that one. Old Contarini got no weenie.”

I raise my dagger, knowing something they don’t know. They snigger and slash, making their steel blades sing. I cannot possibly nick all three with my blade before they cut my hands off, so I retreat. One of them slip-slides into my space, swinging. The point of his blade slices my doublet, stinging my skin. I swipe with my dagger, desperate to break his skin and deliver the poison kiss, but he flips his sword, grips the blade with his gauntlets, and swings it, braining me with the pommel. I fly backward to general laughter, rolling away as the disrespectful thugs advance to skewer me for the fun of it.

They don’t notice until their heads turn, following mine, and by then it’s too late. A whirlwind of dust whips toward the square delivering an armed soldier on a lathered white destrier showering foam. He swoops in and circles the Paduans, freeing me to sheathe my dagger and scramble to the boat for my crossbow, but before I can, he disarms all three in a shower of blood. He doesn’t kill them, but he may as well have.

He jumps off his destrier, which stands still as a statue behind him, grips my hand in his gauntlet, and yanks me to my feet.

“Are you hurt?”

“Only my pride.”

“What did they want?”

“We never got that far.”

As the wounded Paduans crawl away, he laughs heartily, slaps me on the back, and says, “Well met, Niccolò Saltano. I am Donato Venturi.”

He lifts off his helmet and shakes his head, smacking his right ear with the butt of his palm. I lack words to describe his sudden impact. Even his shadow has tangible presence. But more astonishing are his brown skin and blue eyes. His beauty shatters every canon of classical aesthetics and redefines them. His square face is made up of rounded planes showcasing Arab eyes, a Venetian nose, and plush lips wreathed in moustaches and goatee. No matter how fierce his brows or severe the crop of his black curls, his smile strikes me speechless. He covers my blush and stammer with easy conversation. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Serenissimo. He brags about you like the son he never had.”

“I wouldn’t take his word on me. His fondness inclines to dotage.”

“And also from General Giustinian, who credits you with our smashing victory at Trieste.”

“And yet I know nothing of you but your name.”

“Accompany me inside,” he says, “and we can remedy that.”

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Meet the Author

Larry was born in Los Angeles and educated in literature, political science, and life at the University of California, Berkeley. He has worked as a printer and journalist in Los Angeles, San Francisco, Chicago, and St. Paul, Minnesota. Larry also worked with Andy Warhol and the Velvet Underground on the Exploding Plastic Inevitable in NY, Provincetown, Los Angeles, and San Francisco, was mentored by Dean Koontz, and shared a palazzo in Venice with international opera singers Erika Sunnegårdh and Mark Doss.”

While living in Venice for many years, Larry also taught English, led tours, and immersed himself in the history and art of the Venetian Republic. The Ballot Boy was born in Venice and completed in St. Paul.

Larry is a lifelong social activist and writer, a voracious reader and researcher, an opera fanatic, and devoted walker. He currently lives in St. Paul with his partner of twenty-one years and his ex-wife of twenty-five years. His son is a pianist devoted to blues and jazz.

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May 19

New Release Blitz: Raised by Wolves by Elaine White (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Raised by Wolves

Series: Surviving Vihaan, Book Two

Author: Elaine White

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 05/16/2023

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 137800

Genre: Paranormal, MM romance, action/adventure, Alpha males, bonded, wolf shifters, disability

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Description

Bad news always comes in threes.

As do the hits that knock Keon’s perfectly laid plans into chaos. His no-good brother conducted a hostile takeover of their pack, became Alpha, and got killed in the space of a year. Grief has crippled their father, leaving Beta Weston desperate for Keon’s return, as Simeon’s last act as Alpha was to name Keon his successor.

Leaving his friends is heartbreaking. Arriving home to a hostile pack is unsurprising. But finding a rival pack hovering on the boundaries of his land, vying for blood, could be a problem. With Simeon dead, they don’t seem to care which Alpha bleeds for the crimes.

With no other choice, Keon shoulders the burden of being Alpha. Fighting, bleeding, and sacrificing.

As a new Alpha, he needs to prove himself to get the respect needed for them to accept change…like dragging Vihaan into the 21st century. On the top of the list is finding a mate. But who would want to mate an Alpha whose own pack doesn’t respect him?

Excerpt

Raised by Wolves
Elaine White © 2023
All Rights Reserved

Milo

Seven Months Ago

Alpha Thatcher’s Pack

E’Boolou Region, Vihaan

He always knew this day would come. Thatcher was too old and selfish to fight his own challenges, but part of Milo had naïvely presumed it would be Usher standing in his place. Or one of his many other brothers, who were better fighters.

But Milo supposed that was the point. This wasn’t about the challenge. This was about punishing Milo, because the Fates had given him a male true mate. This was a reminder of his place in the pack, in the world.

Every challenge was to the death, and if Milo died, he doubted his father, Thatcher, would spare a second thought. The loss of Milo’s gift would be a small price if he could give the pack this important lesson―there would be no gaoj tolerated in Thatcher’s pack or his family.

It didn’t matter that Milo hadn’t asked to be born gaoj―someone attracted to the same sex. The fact he was would be enough of an insult to Thatcher’s opinion on what made a man a man.

Beating each other bloody counted, apparently. With not even the Meskli to preside, as was usually the case.

Alpha Farley was a m’weko, but as the Meskli, he was a neutral party who governed within Vihaan. Settling disputes and resolving problems between packs, villages, and species of foame―those half-human who could call forth a beast form. He wasn’t a man to disobey and held tight to tradition.

No, waiting for the Meskli would mean prying eyes and someone willing to―and with the power to―interfere on Milo’s behalf.

He didn’t recognise his opponent, and Thatcher hadn’t bothered to tell Milo what this challenge was about. What dispute or grievance required the shedding of blood. A secret part of him wondered if the problem had been fabricated purely to punish him. Milo would put nothing past his father.

The moment the challenger stepped forward―a brute of a man, made of muscle―Milo’s nerves shook. He tried to hide it, summoning long buried memories of his most hated brothers, bullying and goading him, from his childhood. The only way he’d survive this was to remember one important thing―he’d rather spend an eternity in reedav than let his father win. An afterlife in Vihaan’s version of hell would be worth the chance to make his father suffer.

As long as Milo remained breathing by the end of the fight, it would be enough. He’d drag himself to his home, with his insides hanging out, if it meant denying Thatcher the satisfaction of seeing him fail.

*

Milo was down, beaten bloody and could barely feel his legs, but not dead. He could only see out of one eye, but his reflexes remained quick enough to roll away from the foot aimed at his head.

It had been a long, excruciating fight, with his opponent employing every dirty trick possible, and Thatcher didn’t object once.

At some point, Usher had arrived to watch horror-stricken, as Milo fought for his life. At least neither his mother nor his sister, Haley, had been dragged from their beds to witness his humiliation.

After five minutes of struggling to make his legs move, Milo froze at the first sign of rain. Dismay filled his heart, but he fought to stand and dodged through another ten minutes of attacks, too bone-weary to do anything but defend and protect himself. His opponent showed signs of fatigue, and it was satisfying to see bleeding wounds where Milo had left his mark.

Then the opponent backed away to shift into his m’weko form―a giant beast, all fur and fangs, and far scarier than the Dnaran tales of wolf beasts. Something Milo was too weak to do.

Lightning flashed across the sky, and he feared his fate was to die here.

As a massive paw swiped at his head, Milo ducked, rearing back to avoid it gutting his stomach on the way up. Too late to see the other hand lowering over his bent body in time to counter-strike.

He saw the claw descend, knew he had neither the time nor energy to avoid it, and felt the skin tear as it made contact. Milo screamed, a sound he’d never made before, and crumpled to the ground to an angry shout,

“No!”

In the haze of his vision, he made out Usher shifting to tackle the m’weko challenger, tearing at his throat. Milo lasted long enough for Usher to kill the man, then shift to human.

“I won’t let you kill him,” he snapped at their father, crossing to where Milo lay. Usher lifted his broken body from the ground, and such pain flooded through him that Milo passed into a brief, but peaceful, oblivion.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Elaine White is the author of multi-genre MM romance, celebrating ‘love is love’ and offering diversity in both genre and character within her stories.

Growing up in a small town and fighting cancer in her early teens taught her that life is short and dreams should be pursued. She lives vicariously through her independent, and often hellion characters, exploring all possibilities within the romantic universe.

The Winner of two Watty Awards – Collector’s Dream (An Unpredictable Life) and Hidden Gem (Faithfully) – and an Honourable Mention in 2016’s Rainbow Awards (A Royal Craving) Elaine is a self-professed geek, reading addict, and a romantic at heart.

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May 09

New Release Blitz: Wake the Dead by Sophie Whittemore (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title: Wake the Dead

Series: Gamin Immortals, Book Two

Author: Sophie Whittemore

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 05/09/2023

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: No Romance

Length: 83700

Genre: Paranormal, Paranormal, lit, asexual, demisexual, trans, lesbian, gay, siren, ghost, necromancer, shapeshifter, murder, detective, Green Man, Baron Samedi, fae, priest

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Description

An ominous presence awakens in the small town of Gamin.

Fairies murdered by crazed monsters. Magic that makes immortals lose their minds and their heads (literally). Whispers of a vendetta against the fairy crime lords who own the infamous Kraken Club.

One ace siren detective, Lili, is dragged back into defending her turf…and hopefully, she doesn’t die this time around.

Excerpt

Wake the Dead
Sophie Whittemore © 2023
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
Welcome to Hotel Hell

The world is a chrysalis waiting, desperately, for something to happen. And when things happen, that means chaos follows. And when chaos follows, someone inevitably writes something akin to the Book of Revelations.

The Book of Revelations is nestled between the thumb and forefinger of the wandering priest sitting with one leg crossed over the other in the lobby of the Sweeney Inn. A glass cup beads, crying condensation, at his side. He has stubble he probably dreams will, one day, become a beard.

He really shouldn’t have a beard.

I shouldn’t be thinking like that. There could be a mind reader in this very room. Gamin attracts those types more than most places. It attracts the magical like rats to disease. It’s the magic river that does it, the magic hiding us from the human world. So, case in point, there very well might be a mind reader in this very room.

Hey, asshole, if you’re reading my mind, and I smile as I think this, fuck off.

The round-bellied, redheaded, and altogether-too-good-for-her-own-good witch beside me, Patty, scowls at the priest bearing the Book of Revelations. Specifically, she scowls at the mud caking his shoes. “He’s dragging it all over the place.” She watches the floor, how his legs swing across it. “I don’t care if he’s a priest. If he muddies the ground—” She ties her frizzy red hair back from her round face, making me wonder if she really will sock him. Her absolute kickass attitude never ceases to amaze me, and if fate took other chances, I would not hesitate to make her my dream girlfriend.

“He’ll meet his Maker?” I finish for her.

She smirks, leaning her chubby, freckled arms against the front desk. She’s about to answer when the man gets to his feet and crosses toward us. He’s not too tall, about my height, with dark hair, thick brows, and skin that glows like a penny in the sun.

“Welcome to the Sweeney Inn,” Patty declares, a little glint of pride in her eyes. A businesswoman growing comfortable in her power suit. Her brother, Jason Sweeney, keeps the books. Patty leads the running of this place, and she runs such a tight ship that her orders even make me weary at times.

Together, they run the (Evil) Eye Inc., your friendly neighborhood necromancy corporation and local coven business. Being younger, they’ve moved a lot of the business online with tech-wizard friend Erik Borden doing most of the magical for-your-eyes-only monster coding.

You heard me.

Witches are getting into the Silicon Valley big tech startup business.

What’s the world coming to?

I look around the lobby again and notice a tiny ghost rat scurry in one of the corners, still carrying the piece of poisoned cheese that ended its life.

It’s a work in progress.

“Your name?” I ask the handsome stranger, my pen poised over the check-in book.

He points to the paper and pen. “Really, no computer?” He has crooked bottom teeth, but it doesn’t detract from the glow in his smile.

I shrug. “I’m old, therefore, I’m old-fashioned.”

He leans in a little closer at that statement. The Roman collar, a clerical collar, at his neck peeks out. “You look hardly twenty.”

“Many people have told me that. Well, mostly people.” Patty casts me a withering look at the inside joke. I point to the book. “Name?”

“One room.” He falters at how far I’ve already skipped in the usual check-in process. “And my name is Adam. Adam Way.” He pronounces it “Aadom.”

“Father Way?” I ask.

He nods. “As you say.”

Oh, a poet. I hate poets.

“What brings you to Gamin?” Patty takes the crumpled bills he pulls from his wallet, watching him just as suspiciously as I do. This wouldn’t be the first time a stranger tried to pull the wool over eyes. There was a ghūl just last week who tried to party with a selkie during a bachelors’ party…ugh, the teeth on that one, I assure you it was—

“Training.” He fixes his collar.

“For?” Patty shifts over, pressing his change into his open palm.

“The town’s priest—” I’m honestly surprised this town still has priests considering the string of murders that occurred a few months ago. “—he asked me here for a very special reason. He wants me to become a purifier. No, that’s not quite it. You will think it’s silly, like the movies.”

“I assure you”—and here Patty and I grin in unison—“we’ll believe in anything.”

“I am training to become an exorcist. I’m afraid my family back in Lebanon still hope I can become a lawyer or a scholar or something. Fight for justice. Get married again instead of chasing after some spiritual quest.” He lowers his head and looks conspiratorially at me. “But I’m sure your parents act the same way.”

I sign off on the rest of the book, checking off prepared rooms, and reach for a keycard for him from under the desk. “I don’t have family back anywhere. I came from, well, I suppose now it’s Iran. But I left home a long time ago. My home, the home I knew…it’s long gone. It’s history.”

“You left to go where?”

“Wandering the world. Traveling extensively.” Murdering. Thieving. Gathering an army of the damned, but who’s counting? That was old Lili. Now, I’m changed. I’ve grown soft.

Adam takes his keycard and nods at that. “I’m sorry. Without family, it must be hard.”

I close my eyes and think of the strange little community I’ve recruited here in Gamin. Patty and Jason Sweeney, necromancer siblings. Byron the ghost and his boyfriend, Erik Borden, a techno-wizard (literally). Detective Ikiaq, a shapeshifter as old as I am.

And Jo. Jo Kim. My gangshi, soul devouring partner. Forever asleep because of a mistake I made, chasing after an oracle punk who turned out to be an angry Greek goddess with a murderous chip on her shoulder.

But instead of telling him all that, I say, “I found my family. Eventually.”

He looks another moment into my eyes with his dark ones, his hand matching my complexion, the shade of the sun that made me when I wandered the world as a goddess of Sumer, the demonic opposite to Eve in Eden. His hair’s clipped back, perhaps a deterrent for his sex appeal as a priest, but it does a poor job of it. A gathering of ladies at a bachelorette party nearby whisper about how they’d “want the priest to come to the party before the wedding and not after.”

Even the slight case of sideburns only serves to accentuate his tense jaw, his teeth gritted in nervousness. Everything about him is tightly wound, a watch ticking in a gentleman’s pocket, waiting to spring.

Those are always the most fun to break.

“Of course.” He nods. The gaggle of ladies behind him giggle as he turns around and raises his hand in what could be a wave, a blessing, or both. “We all need family in these trying times. The world seems to be on fire, if you’ve read anything of the news or heard the gossip lately.”

“We didn’t start the fire!” Patty quips, already launching into a half-hearted humming of Billy Joel.

“You act older than me sometimes,” I gripe at her, biting my tongue back as I note Adam’s curiosity. Patty and I may both look twenty-one, but I’ve seen empires fall eons before she even learned they existed. Or before she existed, for that matter.

Adam, smiling, clutches his room key and his Bible in hand, his simple faux leather soles shuffling against the lobby floors as he turns toward his room. “Funny. My room number is 177. One more seven, and I might be considered blessed.” He bows a little toward me, the movement stiff, his eyes a little too curious for my comfort. “But it was a blessing to meet you, Lili.”

As he turns around, I’m cursing beneath my breath. What is he, a mind reader?

“How in the nine Hells did he know my—?”

Patty stops me by pointing at my lapel, where my nametag reads my printed name, “Lili,” alongside “concierge” beneath. “Cool it, Sherlock. Not everything has to be the start of some mystical case file with you. What is this, a TV show?”

She picks up a stack of newly printed Gamin town maps from beneath the desk and goes to restock the sad little pile next to the magazines by the door. Funnily enough, the maps mention town destinations like the riverfront, historic town hall, and hiking in the woods.

The pamphlets say nothing about the dead bodies of sirens, the cursed waters that make you forget your memory, or the string of serial killer murders that, somehow, flew under the radar thanks to a fair bit of magic.

Monsters make great bedtime stories but horrible advertising.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Sophie Whittemore is a Dartmouth Film/Digital Arts major with a mom from Indonesia and a dad from Minnesota. They’re known for their Gamin Immortal series (Catch Lili Too) and Legends of Rahasia series, specifically, the viral publication Priestess for the Blind God. Their writing career kicked off with the whimsical Impetus Rising collection, published at age 17.

They grew up in Chicago and live a life of thoroughly unexpected adventures and a dash of mayhem: whether that’s making video games or short films, scripting for a webcomic, or writing about all the punk-rock antiheroes we should give another chance (and subsequently blogging about them).

Sophie’s been featured as a Standout in the Daily Herald and makes animated-live action films on the side. Their queer-gamer film “IRL – In Real Life” won in the Freedom & Unity Young Filmmaker Contest (JAMIE KANZLER AWARDS Second Prize; ADULT: Personal Stories, Third Prize) and was a Semifinalist at the NYC Rainbow Cinema Film Festival.

Their prior works include “A Clock’s Work” in a Handersen Publishing magazine, “Blind Man’s Bluff” in Parallel Ink, a Staff Writer for AsAm News (covering the comic book convention was a dream), and numerous articles as an HXCampus Dartmouth Correspondent. Ultimately, Sophie lives life with these ideas: 1) live your truth unapologetically and 2) don’t make bets with supernatural creatures.

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May 09

New Release Blitz: Hunter by Mell Eight (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Hunter

Series: Witch’s Circle, Book Two

Author: Mell Eight

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 05/09/2023

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 32900

Genre: Paranormal, Paranormal, magic, witches, shifters, vampires, werewolves, hunters, cat familiars, ménage

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Description

Kana never dreamed he would be affiliated with a werewolf pack, but when Alpha Ember asks Kana for a favor, Kana agrees. However, helping Ember and his wolves means exposing Kana’s existence to the larger magical community. Breaking his safety net is something Kana doesn’t take lightly, but if it means Ember might finally notice him, Kana is willing to try.

Unfortunately, actions have consequences. A magic hunter is on the way to the city, and Kana is worried he’s the target. Laying low in the company of werewolves isn’t as easy as Kana hoped, and when the hunter turns his focus on Kana, Kana quickly realizes the pack and Ember might be the ones who suffer as a result.

Excerpt

Hunter
Mell Eight © 2023
All Rights Reserved

The library was quiet at two in the morning. Kana didn’t understand why the librarian bothered to lock any of the doors, given most of the community could pop the locks with just a breath of magic. He certainly had never been stopped by something as measly as a physical lock. He walked past shelves of fiction and nonfiction, straight to the largest section of the library: magical studies. Illumination came from one security light in the corner and from moonlight and streetlights filtering in through the windows. Combined, Kana had more than enough light to see his path to the back of the magical studies area and into the separate room where the advanced books were kept.

These were the books the library considered too important or too rare to be checked out. Anyone could read them, but the books could not be taken outside. For most witches, this wasn’t a problem. Getting access was first-come, first-served, but an informal list had been generated so “everyone” could sign up to read the books in turn—except for Kana, the only male witch in the coven, who had repeatedly been “overlooked” when the informal list reached his name.

If he wanted the same chance as all the other witches to read the books that would allow him to develop his magic, he had to do so when no one else was around.

Kana found the book where he had left off, flipped to the correct page, and settled in one of the chairs close enough to the window so he had enough light to read by.

The coven’s circle of power and his fellow witches might not see any benefit in ensuring Kana was properly trained, but he was going to prove them all wrong. He would read every single book in the advanced section and become the strongest witch in the coven.

As the next few years went by, Kana spent most nights in the library, providing it wasn’t cloudy outside or during a new moon, of course. His knowledge of magic was growing in leaps and bounds, and he was also starting to understand that having magic and power would never be enough for his coven. He had been born male, which meant he would always be considered less than his female counterparts. Regardless of how strong his circle work was, in their opinion, he was only good for helping the coven produce the next generation of strong female witches.

The final straw had come at the start of the second half of his senior year of high school. The announcement had been posted for all interested individuals to sign up for a timeslot to attempt the spell to call their familiar. Kana knew his place so had waited for all his classmates to choose their times and then signed up for an empty slot.

“All students who are not planning to cast the spell to call your familiar, you are free to leave class today. Please go to the library for some self-study,” his magical studies teacher said to the class the day they had returned to school after winter solstice break.

About a third of the students got up and shuffled out of the room. The teacher looked over the remaining students, and her gaze froze when she reached Kana.

“Kana, you’re free to leave as well,” she said, despite the fact that the sign-up sheet was sitting on her desk with Kana’s name on it.

“I would like to try the spell as well,” Kana said, attempting to sound insistent.

The rest of the students in the class all sniggered around him. Kana heard some of them whispering gleefully about the “pathetic man.” Even the teacher had an indulgent, patronizing smile.

“You might be able to do some magic, Kana, but this is a high-level spell,” she told him, as if her mere words would dissuade him. When Kana didn’t move, she sighed. “Very well. You may sit through this lesson.”

Kana sat through that lesson and every lesson thereafter for high-level spells. He was never called on, never asked to demonstrate, and constantly got side-eyed looks and heard snide gossip about him. But he set a precedent. Even though no one thought he ought to be present, they stopped trying to dissuade him from attending. When the timeslots for attempting to call a familiar were finalized, no one bothered trying to stop Kana.

Of course, Kana knew what they were thinking. He was male, so he would fail, and they could afford to indulge him. Also, it was less work for them to let him try and fail than to fight with him about it.

However, what was important were the lessons Kana had learned. He could come out of the calling circle with the strongest, most powerful familiar the coven had ever seen, and he knew it wouldn’t matter in the least. He wouldn’t prove to them that men could be as magically strong as women. He wouldn’t suddenly become acceptable or be allowed to take a spot in the coven circle like a female witch who did the same. No, Kana had a very strong feeling the exact opposite would happen to him.

Kana didn’t want to continue living his life like this. It didn’t matter how his familiar calling went; Kana knew he couldn’t stay. He would never be happy or able to create some sort of life for himself if he remained here. Leaving would take planning, but it wasn’t as if he had anything else to do with his free time.

The library was dark and silent as it always was, but for the last month of his time in the village before he could try calling his familiar, Kana had a different goal. There were spell books in the advanced sections his classmates wouldn’t have access to for quite a few more years; only those admitted to the circle were put on the informal list to study them. Kana spent hours scanning them into the computer and emailing them to himself, using a free email service that accepted fake information to join. He was also careful to wipe the computers after he finished to prevent anyone from discovering what he had done. When he wasn’t stealing spells, Kana pored over maps, trying to decide on the best possible destination.

By the time his day arrived to cast the calling spell, Kana was as prepared as possible. No matter how the spell went, he was looking forward to finally starting his life somewhere new.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

When Mell Eight was in high school, she discovered dragons. Beautiful, wondrous creatures that took her on epic adventures both to faraway lands and on journeys of the heart. Mell wanted to create dragons of her own, so she put pen to paper. Mell Eight is now known for her own soaring dragons, as well as for other wonderful characters dancing across the pages of her books. While she mostly writes paranormal or fantasy stories, she has been seen exploring the real world once or twice.

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