Tag Archives: Age Difference

Release Blitz: Addicted to Lust by Amy Tasukada

Addicted to Lust | Amy Tasukada

A Yakuza Path Romance

RELEASE BLITZ

Publisher: Macarons & Tea Publishing

Release Date: September 1st, 2021

Cover Artist: Natasha Snow

Heat Rating: 5 flames

Length: 51,000 words / 206 pages

Buy Links

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Apple

B&N | Kobo | Google Play

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COVER

Blurb

Can a night of passion lead to a happily ever after?

Yakuza captain Hayato’s life is a mess. His boyfriend broke up with him, changed the locks, and kept all his stuff. He can’t crash at his brother’s because his girlfriend is moving in. And just when Hayato thinks things can’t get worse, he accidentally gets blackout drunk and wakes up in the arms of a clingy underling.

Masuo believes he and his boss made a deep connection, but when he’s blown off the next morning, he feels lied to. Assigned to run a failing pachinko parlor, Masuo is determined to turn it around to prove himself to everyone…especially his sexy superior.

When Hayato realizes he’s falling for the young parlor manager, he is more than ready for fun. But as Hayato’s tragic past comes back to haunt him, Masuo wonders if he’s ready to carry all Hayato’s baggage.

Can the unlikely pair learn to accept each other and find their way to happiness even while new challenges arise, or is their love destined to fall like balls through a pachinko machine?

This story is in the same universe as the Yakuza Path books, but they are separate series.

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Excerpt

January sucked. Hayato always started it with a New Year’s hangover. Then came the anniversary of the worst day of his life. And that wasn’t including the cold. At least the snow was pretty sometimes, but January storms usually skipped the happily-ever-after fluffy snow and went straight to freezing rain of doom. No matter how many layers Hayato wore, he always froze his balls off. The whole month should be tossed out like a used condom in a love hotel’s trash.

If he stayed in bed, he could pretend the calendar had never turned. He could go back to sweet December when nothing bad ever happened and the world was a blur of sales and romantic dinners. Or maybe he could stick with his current plan to spend the whole month of January drunk until the thirty-one days of hell passed and February dawned, if not warmer, at least a little brighter.

He hugged his pillow closer, then gagged, his sinuses assaulted by the stench of sweat and cum. Like the hangover wasn’t bad enough. Only January 1 and already the month had lived up to its reputation as the one of suffering and hatred.

Hayato threw the pillow off the bed and rolled onto his back. Furry pink walls shocked any remaining sleep out of his system. The matching sheets and heart-shaped tufted headboard confirmed it. He’d spent the night at a love hotel. No big deal. No one wanted to spend New Year’s alone. The sound of rushing water in the bathroom signaled Hayato needed to leave before things got complicated.

About the Author

AMY TASUKADA

International best-selling author Amy Tasukada writes thrilling times of crime, love, and gore. Readers who crave diverse characters, unique settings, and edge-of-your-seat action will devour her Yakuza Path series. Readers who seek less blood and more love will swoon over the Yakuza Path Romance and Would it Be Okay to Love You? Series.

Amy is an atheist, queer author who enjoys drinking tea, Japanese street fashion and visual kei music. Her calico cat, O’Hara, is never far from her side. Amy lives in North Texas, but is always planning her next trip to Japan.

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Release Blitz: We Have Till Monday by Cara Dee

We Have Till Monday | Cara Dee

man playing electrical guitar in black and yellow

Release Date: March 11th, 2021

Universal Link: https://readerlinks.com/l/1719730

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/57205749-we-have-till-monday

READ MY REVIEW

Blurb

When it seemed like everyone around Anthony Fender was reaching a goal or falling in love, he blamed an early midlife crisis for throwing him far outside of his comfort zone. Nashville was a long way from New York and his everyday life that’d lost all color lately.

Hopefully, this vacation would reenergize him, and maybe a cooking class with celebrity chef August King could end Anthony’s reign as the only Italian in Brooklyn who couldn’t boil water.

But when he met August and his much younger husband Camden, every plan and all rational thought flew out the window. Their dynamic grabbed hold of Anthony and reeled him in before he even heard the magic word.

“Daddy.”

Excerpt

“Hi.”

I whipped my head to the left and spotted Camden, and I nearly swallowed my tongue. He stood there, hesitating by the den, and grinned shyly. Dressed in only a pair of sweatpants drawn up to his knees.

Could he even buy his own beer? No, really. His entire appearance was a complete mindfuck. Boyish looks combined with the average height of a middle schooler made me wanna ask if he wanted a juice box. But the young man also had ink covering his calves, and he had piercings in both nipples and his right eyebrow.

Not a single mark on his upper body, though. Just pale, soft-looking skin.

I swallowed hard.

Camden Adair wasn’t my usual type, but there was something intoxicating about that boy. It was the mixture of sweet innocence and attitude. I saw it in his eyes every damn week.

And I was staring.

I cleared my throat and closed the fridge again.

But before I could say something, King was back. He opened the door and strode in with two large bags that he set on the kitchen island.

“There you are, darlin’. Did you get to introduce yourself to your latest favorite New Yorker?”

Camden laughed and walked toward me. “I was just about to. Hi, Mr. Fender. I’m Camden.” He stuck out his hand.

I managed to snap out of my state, and I grasped his hand. “It’s Anthony. Nice to meet you in person.”

“You too!”

Just as I was about to break the handshake, I dropped my gaze to his hand and instinctively tightened my grip. You gotta be fucking kidding me. I clenched my jaw. There was a tattoo of a small snake slithering up his thumb.

I released his hand quickly and took a couple steps back. He was peering up at me with curiosity and…something else.

What had I just walked into?

About The Author

cara dee image

I’m often awkwardly silent or, if the topic interests me, a chronic rambler. In other words, I can discuss writing forever and ever. Fiction, in particular. The love story—while a huge draw and constantly present—is secondary for me, because there’s so much more to writing romance fiction than just making two (or more) people fall in love and have hot sex.

There’s a world to build, characters to develop, interests to create, and a topic or two to research thoroughly.

Every book is a challenge for me, an opportunity to learn something new, and a puzzle to piece together. I want my characters to come to life, and the only way I know to do that is to give them substance—passions, history, goals, quirks, and strong opinions—and to let them evolve.

I want my men and women to be relatable. That means allowing room for everyday problems and, for lack of a better word, flaws. My characters will never be perfect.

Wait…this was supposed to be about me, not my writing.

I’m a writey person who loves to write. Always wanderlusting, twitterpating, kinking, cooking, baking, and geeking. There’s time for hockey and family, too. But mostly, I just love to write.

Social Media

https://www.caradeewrites.com/cdwlandingpage

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Release Blitz: We Have Till Dawn by Cara Dee

We Have Till Dawn | Cara Dee


Release Date: November 19th, 2020

Universal Link: https://readerlinks.com/l/1536038/02

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/55815432-we-have-till-dawn

Read My Review

Blurb

It wasn’t like he’d never done this before…

Nicky Fender retired from sex work two years ago and never looked back. Then an offer he can’t refuse comes his way, and he agrees to one last exclusive arrangement. Good money and an apartment in Manhattan? He’d be a fool to turn that down.

The deal is dusk till dawn for two months. But once he meets Gideon—an older, quirky, autistic, filthy, uncertain businessman who wants to explore his sexuality—Nicky wishes sunrise would never come.

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Excerpt

Nicky Fender

“Let me get this straight,” I said, scanning the document. “The wife is the client? I mean, she’s the one setting her husband up with a male escort?”

“Correct.” Tina sat back as our server approached with dinner. “Well, her fiancé.”

I hummed and kept my mouth shut until we were alone again. Fuck, the pizza looked good. Of course, meeting with Tina meant it had to be some fancy pizza. She wouldn’t be caught dead with a regular slice. She wouldn’t be caught dead in Brooklyn either, which was why I’d met up with her in Manhattan at some swanky Italian place. But hey, she was buying.

“I’m waiting for the reason for why I’d agree,” I admitted bluntly. I hadn’t whored out my sweet ass in two years, and I was doing much better now. I worked three jobs for very little pay, I lived with my big brother, and I had practically no time for any hobbies. What’s not to love?

I’d thought about going back to Tina for some time, but whenever I considered it, there was this rock in the pit of my stomach that no amount of money could crush.

“I wanted you to see the requirements first,” she replied.

Well, there were a lot of them. I hadn’t gone through the entire list yet. After placing the document next to my plate, I cut into my fancy pizza and continued reading the list. There was plenty on hygiene, but nothing that went beyond what I was used to. I was to be blindfolded the whole time? All right… I’d never see the client’s face—or the client’s fiancé—which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

“I get the impression from the client that the man wants to explore something before he agrees to marry her,” Tina revealed. I’d heard of weirder dynamics. “She hinted that it would be a one-time arrangement, and she placed emphasis on following instructions that seem to cover every inch of your body.”

Lovely.

“That’s a lot of exploring,” I pointed out. “He wants to meet with me four nights a week for two months.”

Tina lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug and sipped her wine.

More specifically, I had to be available for him between the hours of ten PM and six AM on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.

I scratched my ear.

The pay better be out of this world, ’cause I would have to quit at both Applebee’s and Starbucks. Not that I’d mourn those shifts, but I’d been at Applebee’s long enough to possibly make assistant manager when the current one quit next month. She was having a baby and moving to Jersey.

I stuck a piece of pizza into my mouth and eyed the requirements for safety, at which I almost choked on a pepperoni slice.

“How loaded is this couple?” I asked through a cough. The man demanded exclusivity, meaning I wasn’t allowed to be sexually active with anyone else for the duration of our arrangement. And that cost a fucking mint.

“Read on…” Tina smirked wryly.

I furrowed my brow—then spotted one of my few hard limits. I shook my head and wiped my mouth with the napkin. “No fucking way. Tina, you—no. Fuck this.”

I didn’t mess around without protection. Not a chance in hell.

“This is why I asked you, Nicky,” she told me patiently. “Considering your stance on protection and your sad little Facebook statuses on how single you are—” she ignored my glare “—not to mention that you’re not the type of guy who walks around with a string of hookups, I can count on you passing a screening with flying colors and taking on someone who wants exclusivity. You’re my only candidate.”

“Candidate to say no,” I retorted.

Tina adopted a smug expression and reached down to dig something out of her purse. “There’s a reason I wanted to save the perks for last,” she said. “Okay, so you know the requirements. An exclusive arrangement for both parties—during which you’re sexually active only with each other—four nights a week for two months. You won’t see him. He won’t violate your limits—”

“Going unprotected is a limit, Tina,” I grated. Fuck, I was getting pissed. Part of me had carried foolish hope that this would be such a golden case that I’d jump on the opportunity and earn some good dough before the rock in my stomach returned.

“And when you’re an escort dealing with multiple clients a week, nothing else would make sense,” she answered, extending another document to me. “I wouldn’t even try to approach my other sex workers with this, Nicky. You’re the exception only because you quit the field.”

“Hmpf.” I cast a disgruntled look her way before I lowered my gaze to the piece of paper.

Ahem.

Holy fuck.

Three grand a week—minus Tina’s finder’s fee of ten percent—plus living arrangements. There would be a studio apartment in my name, so to speak, rent and utilities paid for by the client. Corner of West 39th and Ninth Avenue—not a shabby address at all. One of my best friends lived in the Garment District. Adjacent to Hell’s Kitchen where another friend lived.

A Manhattan address and $3,000 a week for two months.

A guy could do worse.

I shifted in my seat and cleared my throat. “Is there, uh, any way to ensure safety by making sure the guy gets tested too?”

“Of course, Nicky.” The compassion in Tina’s crystal-blue eyes reminded me of the fact that she ran an ethical business based on choice and vetting. She didn’t headhunt sex workers; they had to come to her, and they—we—had to go through a selection process before she could, in good conscience, give us work.

Today, I was an exception for her, and my answer would be an exception too.

’Cause it looked like I was moving to Manhattan.

About The Author

cara dee image

I’m often awkwardly silent or, if the topic interests me, a chronic rambler. In other words, I can discuss writing forever and ever. Fiction, in particular. The love story—while a huge draw and constantly present—is secondary for me, because there’s so much more to writing romance fiction than just making two (or more) people fall in love and have hot sex.

There’s a world to build, characters to develop, interests to create, and a topic or two to research thoroughly.

Every book is a challenge for me, an opportunity to learn something new, and a puzzle to piece together. I want my characters to come to life, and the only way I know to do that is to give them substance—passions, history, goals, quirks, and strong opinions—and to let them evolve.

I want my men and women to be relatable. That means allowing room for everyday problems and, for lack of a better word, flaws. My characters will never be perfect.

Wait…this was supposed to be about me, not my writing.

I’m a writey person who loves to write. Always wanderlusting, twitterpating, kinking, cooking, baking, and geeking. There’s time for hockey and family, too. But mostly, I just love to write.

Find Cara on social media here: https://www.caradeewrites.com/cdwlandingpage

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