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Release Blitz: Finding Him by LM Somerton

Finding Him | LM Somerton

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Publisher: Pride Publishing

Word Count: 59,668 / 230 pages

Universal Link: https://books2read.com/u/bzZZEL

First For Romance

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Blurb


Sometimes, using a safe word gets you exactly what you want.

Canadian Zac Denman is young, rich and submissive. He’s also a kidnap risk who’s grown up in the shadow of bodyguards and security precautions. All he wants is to work out what kind of submissive he is in a safe environment and thanks to his very understanding father, he’s getting the chance to do exactly that. The Retreat in England is safe, discreet and willing to provide a selection of Doms for Zac to play with—a great way of discovering what he is, and isn’t, into.

Dale Gastrell is a friend of The Retreat’s owner, a member of The Underground BDSM club and a soldier turned landscape gardener thanks to an inconvenient bullet. Two weeks providing covert protection to a wealthy client who won’t even know he’s there seems like a perfect break from city life.

But life is never simple, and when Dale and Zac are thrown together, Dale has to fight his attraction. Zac is from a whole different world of wealth and privilege. He’s not for the likes of Dale who has to watch as Doms arrive at The Retreat to give Zac a taste of submission.

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Excerpt

Carey Hoffman stepped out of the air-conditioned limousine into the burning heat of a Palm Springs summer’s day. The air shimmered, and he half-expected to see a mirage in the distance along with a camel train and a bunch of wandering nomads. The sun’s intensity made the greenery around him all the more astounding. Extensive, manicured lawns stretched to either side of the sweeping drive and in front of him stood the biggest, most palatial house he’d ever seen. He could only imagine how much watering all that lush grass would need.

“It’s enormous.” Pure white, the sun reflecting off the building’s curved walls was blinding. Carey slipped on his sunglasses to reduce the combined glare of the sun and the paintwork. He couldn’t decide whether he liked the property or not. There was no doubt that it was extravagant and no question it was unique. “Probably designed by some celebrity architect for an extortionate fee,” Carey muttered. “It must be worth a small fortune.”

“I kind of like the smooth lines, it’s all curves, no harsh edges.” Alistair, Carey’s partner and submissive, joined him, slipping his hand into Carey’s. “It doesn’t come across as ostentatious as the McMansions you see in California. It’s understated, restrained somehow.”

“That’s your artistic eye at work, love. There’s way too much white for my liking. What’s wrong with a bit of color? Or at the very least a shade of white that isn’t…misty cloud or curdled milk or something. There are whole pages of so-called whites on paint charts, though they mostly look the same to me.”

Alistair gave him a gentle smile. “The heat’s getting to you, isn’t it, Sir?”

“How do people around here not combust? This place is like a furnace—I feel like I’m desiccating just standing here. What I wouldn’t give for a dose of London drizzle right now and that’s not something I ever thought I’d say.”

“We’re English. Our bodies are not equipped for more than two hot days a year—and by hot, I mean low eighties, not high nineties. Everything here seems to be air-conditioned to the point of frigidity, and I’m sure the house will be, too, once we get inside. You’ll be much happier then.”

“It’s entirely your fault we’re here, you know that? Now you’re a famous photographer, everyone wants a piece of you. Even multimillionaires. A personal invite from Taylor Denman is not to be sniffed at.” Carey gave Alistair a kiss to demonstrate his pride. “I’m so proud of you love, even if I am being fried alive.”

“Do you wish I’d turned down the invitation?” Alistair gazed at him anxiously. “I would have if you’d asked me to.”

“Absolutely not! Ignore me, sweetheart. The heat’s making me fractious. I’m very glad you accepted the invitation and I’m intrigued to meet Mr. Denman since he sponsored your exhibition in San Francisco. It was an enormous success. I’ve never seen so many sold stickers at a show before and it wouldn’t surprise me if he bought some of the pictures himself. You worked really hard to get everything set up, the launch was wonderful but exhausting. Mr. Denman’s offer to spend a few days at one of his hotels was a perfect way to end our trip so you could hardly turn down an invitation to meet him in person. It’s a small price to pay for an all-expenses paid stay in the best hotel in Palm Springs.”

They walked toward the house, glittering quartz gravel crunching beneath their shoes.

“I have to confess I’m a little nervous.” Alistair gripped Carey’s hand tighter.

“There’s no need to be. I’m here and I’ll take care of you.”

“You always do.” Alistair smiled, and Carey’s breath hitched. Alistair was beautiful, the sun glinting on his blond hair, his skin showing a hint of tan from several weeks in the sun.

“And I always will.” There was no doubt about that in Carey’s mind. Taking care of Alistair was the single most fulfilling part of his existence.

As they approached the huge front door of the property, it swung open. Carey expected to see a butler or maybe a personal assistant, but it was Taylor Denman himself who stood waiting for them. Carey recognized him from pictures he’d seen in the press. Taylor was casually dressed in jeans and a light blue shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal tanned arms and the curl of a tattoo. He was a striking man, about Carey’s age, his chestnut hair starting to silver at the temples. A trace of stubble shaded his jaw, and there were laughter lines around his eyes.

“Welcome, gentlemen. I’m so glad you were able to make the trip from San Francisco.” Taylor stepped forward with a welcoming smile.

“Thank you for inviting us, Mr. Denman,” Alistair said. “We’re so happy to meet you.”

“Call me Taylor. You’re Alistair of course, I know you from your catalog picture, so this must be Carey.” He shook hands with Carey first, then with Alistair. “Come inside, it’s hotter than the surface of the fucking sun out here, excuse my language.”

Alistair giggled. “You and Carey are going to get along really well.”

“I thought it was only us rain-soaked Brits who couldn’t handle it,” Carey said, following Taylor into the icy-cool interior of his home. “I’m melting.”

“I was born in Canada. Alberta. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the heat, but my business interests make having a home here convenient. I keep an apartment in New York but I thought you’d appreciate a few days here in Palm Springs after the bustle of San Francisco. It’s a lot more relaxing than The Big Apple.”

“We certainly appreciate it,” Carey said, gazing around the entrance hall. “It’s rare that we get to spend a few days alone together, and the exhibition was a little frantic. Thanks to you it drew a lot of attention.” He was impressed by the cool colors and sleek minimalist design. The area managed to be welcoming even though the cathedral-like ceiling height could have made it intimidating.

His eye was drawn to a wall displaying a single large picture. Carey smiled. It was one of Alistair’s photographs, blown up to huge proportions. The original was one of Carey’s favorites. It showed a vast, ancient oak, standing alone in a rural landscape at twilight, its gnarled limbs outlined against the sky. A silhouette of a fox was just visible at its base. Ironically, it hadn’t taken hours of patient waiting for an animal to appear. He and Alistair had driven out to the Chiltern hills one afternoon and had been taking a stroll after an early dinner at a nearby restaurant. Alistair, his photographer’s instinct always active, had lifted his camera and taken the snap after spotting movement. He hadn’t even known it was a fox until he’d looked at the digital image. It had been pure luck that the picture had come out so well. It had sold at a London gallery, but the buyer had remained anonymous.

Alistair edged a little closer to Carey’s side, blushing. “Now you know what happened to the picture,” Carey said with a chuckle.

“I was curious,” Alistair admitted. “Anonymous buyers are intriguing.

“The original is in my study,” Taylor said. “I had this print made specifically for this space, and you have no idea how many compliments it draws. I’m loath to praise your work in public, Alistair because it never fails to increase competition for the pictures I want to buy. I’m a covetous man—I want the best for myself.”

“I’m so flattered. The picture certainly suits this space. I’m glad it went to someone who appreciates it.”

“Well, I’ve added several more to my collection thanks to the San Francisco exhibition. Shameless self-interest got me involved and as sponsor I got first pick, which caused huge annoyance to several acquaintances. An added bonus, I admit.” He grinned, mischief glittering in his eyes. “But I have to confess that it’s not the reason I’ve invited you both here. I’m afraid I have been somewhat dishonest. Of course, I sponsored the exhibition for absolutely genuine reasons, but over the last year things have come to light that I think you may be able to help me with. A personal matter.”

“You have my attention,” Carey said. “Does this have something to do with Alistair’s photography skills?”

“No. Actually, Carey, it’s you that I think can help. Let’s go sit in the sun room. I have light snacks set out in there, and cold drinks. We can relax and you can hear me out.”

Carey exchanged a curious glance with Alastair who shrugged, apparently unconcerned by the mystery. They both followed Taylor through the house pausing to admire the pictures and sculptures that were displayed everywhere.

The sun room proved to be constructed entirely of glass but managed to remain ice-cold. Several comfortable loungers surrounded a low glass table and there was a magnificent view of the sweeping grounds. Carey guessed that the hint of glittering water in the distance must be a pool.

They settled into their seats, Carey and Alistair next to each other, Taylor opposite them. Taylor offered them a selection of drinks. Alistair opted for chilled mango juice while Carey accepted a light beer, mirroring Taylor’s choice. On the table sat several platters of cold finger food, which was tempting but Carey wanted to hear what Taylor had to say before switching his attention to snacks.

“How do I start?” Taylor leaned forward, steepling his fingers.

“I find it’s always best to be direct,” Carey said.

About the Author

lm somerton logo

Lucinda lives in a small village in the English countryside, surrounded by rolling hills, cows and sheep. She started writing to fill time between jobs and is now firmly and unashamedly addicted.

She loves the English weather, especially the rain, and adores a thunderstorm. She loves good food, warm company and a crackling fire. She’s fascinated by the psychology of relationships, especially between men, and her stories contain some subtle (and some not so subtle) leanings towards BDSM.

You can follow Lucinda on Facebook, Twitter and her Website or First for Romance

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Release Blitz: Handsome Death by Sara Dobie Bauer

Handsome Death | Sara Dobie Bauer

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Publisher: Carnation Books

Release Date: April 10, 2020

Heat Rating: 5 flames

Length: 72 000 words

It is a standalone story

Buy Links:

Available on Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US | Amazon UK

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Blurb

I’m not hunting him; I’m protecting him.

At least, that’s what I tell myself.

In New York City, a beautiful creature like Tristan Clement should not be walking the streets alone, and I’m the perfect vampire to watch his back.

But what if keeping him safe isn’t enough anymore? What if I want to touch? And taste?

I need him. But I’ve never needed anyone.

In a world where paranormal creatures live amongst us and must follow certain laws, living life as a dangerous loner works for vampire Ethan. Inhabiting his gleaming apartment, wearing his designer suits, jetting around the world as a fanged killer-for-hire, Ethan does it all alone.

That is, until he literally runs into Tristan. Tristan, who is clearly trouble wrapped in skinny jeans and an oversized sweater. Tristan, with his shock of angelic blond curls. Tristan, who plays piano more beautifully than the old masters– and Ethan would know; he saw Beethoven.

Tristan is gorgeous, a little sassy, and irresistible. Also, Ethan is horrified to note, Tristan has no idea how incredibly tempting he is to things that go bump in the night.

Overcome by the urge to keep Tristan safe, Ethan begins to… well, stalk is such a strong word. What starts as an obsession quickly becomes something more, something that Ethan needs. And to his surprise, Tristan seems to need him, too…

*This darkly romantic tale delivers steamy passion and a happily ever after. Be advised that Handsome Death includes explicit MM content, stalking, mentions of past abuse, and graphic violence.*

Excerpt

I feel an itch on the back of my neck so glance behind me, and indeed, there he is, the blond kid from yesterday. I must have caught him staring, because as soon as I turn to look, he ducks his head and goes back to reading.

I shouldn’t approach him. Granted, he’s stunning. Most vampires would love to get their hands on his bare skin, but I’m not one for picking up humans outside of blood clubs. I’m cautious. Vampires can get in a lot of trouble for biting a human without consent. Like sentenced-to-death trouble. The humans at blood clubs know what they’re getting into. This guy? He looks like a puppy in need of a cuddle. He has no idea what a vampire could do to him.

Maybe some reconnaissance is in order. Just to, you know, make sure he’s all right after yesterday’s altercation.

Or something.

I’m lying to myself. This isn’t a protective detail in Serbia, this is me away from combat too long and bored in New York.

Fuck it.

He sits at one of the heavy wooden tables with the lid off his cup. His hair hangs halfway over his forehead, tilted down over a paperback, but I can still see his mouth, the way he chews his bottom lip, making it pinker, fuller.

I walk right up to his table. I don’t wait for him to look up. I don’t wait for an invitation. I just sit.

He startles at my arrival. His eyes widen and stare at me.

“Who are you?” I ask. I’ve always been really good at openings.

“Uhh.” His forehead wrinkles.

I drum my fingertips on the table. “I’ve never seen you in here before.”

“You saw me yesterday.” He folds the top corner of a page in his paperback: Dracula by Bram Stoker. “You saved my ass yesterday.”

“Before yesterday,” I reply.

He sighs. “A Starbuck’s bought out my favorite coffee shop, so I guess this is now my favorite coffee shop. Buy local.” He scoops his messenger bag off the floor and shoves the book inside.

The kid has one of those runway model faces—gaunt if not so beautiful, sharp and yet soft. Freckles? Zero. Wait, no, he’s got just a smattering that you would only notice close-up … or with well-trained vampiric eyes. He has no shadow of recently shaved facial hair, and that’s no surprise based on the white-blond of his hair. He must moisturize those lips because nobody’s mouth just naturally looks like the perfect mixture of velvet and silk.

He sighs again, louder. “You’re staring at me.”

No, I’m studying him—checking out his vulnerable areas, which are pretty much everywhere considering he’s so thin and fragile-looking.

As for everyone else in the coffee shop, they’re looking at the kid like they want to take him to bed. I catch a girl at the next table over gawking. A big dude with a beard stands in line to our right, his mouth hanging half open as he admires.

“Everyone is staring at you,” I respond.

His pale cheeks burn bright red as he swoops his bag onto his shoulder and stands. “No, that’s …” He shakes his head. “Ha, no.” He doesn’t say goodbye. He even leaves his coffee, half-consumed on the table. He up and abandons me without a word, but I do watch him go—as does half of Inky Grounds.

Once he disappears out into the early October morning, I turn back around and stare at his deserted coffee. Granted, I’m not smooth—I get it—but he didn’t have to run out like that. I just wanted to see that he was safe. Shit, I don’t even know his name.

About the Author

Sara Dobie Bauer is a bestselling author, model, mental health speaker, and LGBTQ advocate with a creative writing degree from Ohio University.

She lives with her hottie husband and two precious pups in Northeast Ohio, although she’d really like to live in a Tim Burton film.

Her current obsession with Timothee Chalamet runs deep, and don’t even get her started on Call Me By Your Name.

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Cute! BDSM romance from the pens of Ari McKay

His To Save (The Candy Cane Club, #2)His To Save by Ari McKay

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

If ever it could be said that a book about a BDSM club – and a sub who needs to learn how to reach subspace after an abusive relationship – was cute, it would be this book.

It really is cute, as well as sweet and funny at times, sexy and emotional and I really enjoyed it.

The idea of using BDSM to treat symptoms of PTSD isn’t a new one, I believe there are actual studies which researched it, and in the hands of this pair of authors, it’s treated with the weight and seriousness it deserves.

There are potential trigger warnings for readers of this book in so much as it discusses emotional abuse in childhood but it’s not given much detail and works really as the hook on which to slot the romance.

Saiph and Nick make a wonderful pair and each one helps the other beat their personal demons.

#ARC kindly received from the authors in return for an honest and unbiased review.

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