Tag Archives: Book Blast

Book Blast: Always Ours by J.P. James

Always Ours | J.P. James

The Always Series #5

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Cover Artist: Kimberly Soto

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 55,000 words/ 198 pages

It is a standalone story.

Buy Links:

Available on Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US | Amazon UK

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Blurb

Chance:

I didn’t know what danger was until I was assaulted one night. It was a hate crime against the LGBTQ+ community, but fortunately, two cops stepped out from the shadows and wrestled my attacker to the ground. My breath caught upon seeing them because Mason and Logan are everything I’ve ever wanted: brawny, handsome, and heroic. But something tells me there’s more to these men than meets the eye.

Logan:

We shouldn’t have taken what the young man offered. But when he knocked on our door, my twin and I gave into our deepest desires. We’re twins who share, and Chance said he wanted to feel alive again after his close brush with death. As a result, we stepped up and made it a skin-to-skin game.

But now, the relationship has gone off the rails. Chance wants more – not just our bodies, but also our hearts, minds, and souls. The problem? We’re not ready for this. We’re cops, and while the force has an unofficial “Don’t ask, Don’t tell” policy, it’s difficult to keep our innermost desires secret.

But Chance wants more. He’s not satisfied with being kept in the closet. He wants to be part of our lives, out in the open and proud. Can we do this for him? Will we, when our lives and careers are at stake?

**Always Ours is a full-length MMM novel with a HFN/HEA and no cliffhangers.**

Excerpt

“Walk me home?” I ask the twins shyly.

I have to fight past my nerves if I want them to take me seriously. Hell, I need to do this if I’m going to take myself seriously.

Logan and Mason share glances and then nod. I know these guys are big and strong, but I can’t help going mushy whenever they look at each other. I might not ever be able to understand their twin language, but it’s a privilege to witness.

I don’t want to be alone, so I’m grateful when they agree to take me home. I live in a tiny apartment on the top floor of a five-story building. Of course, there are plenty of stairs and the three of us smile as we ascend.

“Police Academy training has nothing on this walk-up,” Logan chuckles as we hit the fourth floor.

“I’m used to it,” I explain with a spring in my step.

“I can tell,” Mason husks.

I feel the firm, sure touch of his hand at my ass as we ascend the stairs. I laugh but don’t bother batting his hand away. I love that he appreciates my body. I don’t exercise much, but I have to scale one hundred and thirty-two steps at least once a day. My lower body is made of steel, and if these guys want to admire it, I’m not going to stop them. If anything, it gives me a confidence boost.

Without thinking, I let out a low purr. It’s quiet in the staircase, and I know I can’t it play off like an actual cat escaped a neighbor’s apartment.

I turn around to face them, and find their hungry eyes feasting on my body. I watch the rise and fall of their chests as they try to calm their breathing, but my little outburst unleashed more of their animalistic grit. I consider it a privilege that I can do this to them.

Everything about these guys feels like a privilege, if I’m being honest, and I don’t want to deny myself the pleasure either. My body screams for Logan and Mason, as if I belong to them already. Doctor Marty says I should focus on the things I have control over, and I’ve been thinking about that a lot. I’m tired of feeling overwhelmed and helpless. I want to chase the things that inspire and empower me, and never look back.

Right now, what empowers me is having my buff saviors by my side. Logan and Mason treat me right. When I feel anxious, I remember their sure, comforting touches and their gentle, kind words. It warms me, and calms the ache in my heart.

It’s what I need to feel and hear tonight.

I think this does more healing for me than any therapy. I know Doctor Marty is a professional, but these guys mend my body and soul more than they know.

“My apartment is at the end of the hall,” I explain as I push the door open to the fifth floor. “Would you like to come in for a bit?”

They nod and pick up the pace behind me. I notice their eyes shift around as we cross towards my front door. In fact, I think they’ve been watching for lurkers and creeps the entire walk home. Maybe it’s their training that makes them act this way, but I like to think there’s something special about this level of security. Something reserved only for me. Dare to dream, I guess.

“This is nice,” Mason says, stepping into my apartment with Logan on his heels. I shut the door behind them, feeling my heart start to quicken.

“It’s tiny,” I tell them, but Logan shakes off my remark.

“It might be tiny but it’s clean. If you weren’t pursuing interior design, now would be the time we tried to convince you to,” he says with an affirming smile. “Your décor is amazing.”

Yum. Every word out of their mouths gives me strength.

I gesture for them to sit at the leather couch in the living room.

“My Aunt Darcy bought this sofa and also my bed. They’re the only nice things I own because everything else is Ikea, until I get a real job at least,” I joke.

“It’s beautiful,” says Mason as he grips the leather cushion beneath him.

“And there’s nothing wrong with Ikea,” Logan adds. “It has its uses.”

I pull a cushion from the closet and set it on the ground in front of them.

“Hey, don’t sit there,” Mason starts, but my hand flies up to stop him.

“Believe me, I like sitting on the ground. Plus, this way I can admire both of you at the same time,” I tell them. I can feel the blush on my cheeks but I fight through it.

“Thank you,” Logan chuckles. “You’re really sweet.” Mason smiles too.

“I wanted to tell you something,” I say as I look between their beautiful blue eyes. I take my seat on the cushion, and push my knees up to my chest as I cradle myself for comfort.

“Yes?” the twins ask. I take a deep breath.

“Well, I started going to therapy because you know the city pays for it after an attack like the one I had. I had my first session the other day, and I have another appointment next week. Until I can get my anxiety under control.”

Their eyes are a complex mix of affection and sadness, the blue going from light to dark, and then back again. They’re happy that I’m seeking treatment, but it’s another reminder of how we know one another, and how we got to this place. The good with the bad, I suppose.

“We’re proud of you,” Mason promises, looking directly into my eyes. “It’s important to take your mental health seriously.”

Logan nods all the same. “Exactly. You’re brave, but we already knew that. This is to help you recover even more.”

The blush hasn’t left my face. If anything, I feel warmer and definitely want to take my shirt off, anything to get some cold air on my skin.

“There’s something we want to ask you too,” Logan says in the next moment.

I look between them, but their expressions are unreadable. “Sure, ask away.”

“The trial for your attacker is in a few days. I was thinking about testifying, if that’s alright with you,” Logan confesses.

My chest tightens, but the twins have their hands on me before I freak out.

“We don’t want to stress you out,” Mason adds. “But the DA has asked us to get up on the stand.”

I steady my breathing, trying to focus on their touch.

“That’s alright. It’s fine. I’m going to be fine,” I say.

Mason nods, and I can feel my face burning up. It’s not like they have any choice when it comes to testifying. But still, their concern shakes me to my core. It’s all so much, how these guys take care of me and ask about getting up on the stand, as if my opinion makes a difference. In such a short time, they’ve become important people in my life. I can feel it everywhere, in my heart, in my head, and in my groin right now.

“You seem flushed,” Logan notes as his eyes rake over my face. They dip lower, taking in the rest of me as I unfurl my knees from my chest.

“Yeah,” I breathe. “I can’t help it.”

I let my gaze wander over their bodies. They must like it too, both of them spreading their arms and legs wider on the couch, giving my eyes as much of them as possible.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” Mason asks. He tries to sound innocent but my ears find nothing of the sort behind his hoarse voice.

I focus again on them, succumbing to the fire building in my chest. “I want you. Both of you. Is that okay?”

About the Author

J.P. James is an MM author who’s secretly been writing LGBTQ romance novels for a decade. She looks forward to bringing you more steam, heat, and passion between handsome billionaires, beautiful boys, and the men who rock her world.

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Book Blast: Chasing Chance by M.E. Parker

Chasing Chance | M.E. Parker

Gilcrest University Guys #1

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Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 55,000 words/ 175 pages

Release Date: March 17, 2019

It’s the first book in a series HFN ending—no cliffhanger

Buy Links:

Available on Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US | Amazon UK

Add on Goodreads

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Blurb

There are moments in your life that become part of you. They become so ingrained in your memory that you can’t let them go, no matter how hard you try. Some may seem small and insignificant when they happen.

Others are so big and important that you know, even while you’re in the moment, that your life will be forever changed. For me, almost all those moments—both the small and insignificant as well as the big and important—were moments I shared with Chance Wyrick.

If I were in a support group for hopelessly pathetic gays, I’d have to introduce myself by saying, “Hi, I’m Andy Michaelson and I can’t stop myself from thinking about Chance Wyrick.”

From the time we met, when we were only six years old, and for the next twelve years, he was my best friend. I fell in love with him along the way. I couldn’t say exactly when it happened, only that it happened.

Words of advice:

Never fall in love with your best friend, especially if he’s one of the most popular kids at school, the best high school quarterback in the state, or if he happens to be your next-door neighbor.

But most of all…

Never, I repeat never, fall in love with your best friend if he’s straight. Nothing good can come of it. Trust me.

Our friendship was over before we finished our last year of high school. My best friend became my ex-best friend. I hoped to forget about him when I went off to college. But Chance followed me there. So did all the memories.

I tried to forget him. I did. But he was more beautiful than ever. He was the starting quarterback for Gilcrest University. He was larger than life. He was impossible to ignore. We hadn’t spoken in years, but the memories still hit me out of nowhere, and they still hurt.

By the time I started my third year at Gilcrest, I was beginning to think I’d never be over him.

As it turns out, I was right…

Chasing Chance is the first book in the Gilcrest University Guys series. It’s a full-length, “friends to lovers” romance novel. It has “coming out” and “first-time gay” themes, is stocked full of STEAM, heartache, and laughter, and it has a guaranteed happy ending.

The series will follow the love stories of four college friends. Chasing Chance is the first of two books that will tell Andy and Chance’s love story. Look for book two, Catching Chance, to come out next month!

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Excerpt

As we sat next to one another on the rocky river bank in silence, I watched his wild dark hair ripple in the wind. He looked so much older than me. His shoulders were broad, and he was at least two inches taller than I was. I couldn’t help but notice the curves of his biceps through his fleece pullover.

He was the hottest guy I’d ever seen. He was the guy I imagined kissing when I jerked off. Well, it went back and forth between him and the High School Musical version of Zac Efron, but mostly it was Chance.

The truth was, we didn’t have much in common. We both loved riding bikes, running through the woods, and playing video games. But that’s where our similarities ended. I figured out pretty early on that I’d rather be in the kitchen with my mom helping her bake something or working on a craft project, or reading a book, rather than being out in the front yard throwing a football with my dad. I was all about reading and science and Chance Wyrick was all about sports… any sport, really. He was always the best one on the team, and it didn’t matter what kind of team it was.

Our differences didn’t seem to matter for a long time. We were pretty much inseparable until the previous year. It was inevitable that we would eventually separate. He started hanging out with the jocks and I started hanging out with the nerds. But after school on most days, it was like nothing had changed. He would just walk through my front door, go straight up to my bedroom, and we’d start playing video games. We still knew everything about each other’s life, we just stopped acknowledging each other at school.

Chance had his knees pulled up in front of him and was tracing some inconceivable pattern on the massive rock we were sitting on with a stick. I liked to think of it as our rock. It was the first place we came to every year as soon as we were done setting up camp. I wondered what he’d think if he knew how obsessed I was with him. I hadn’t told anyone I was gay.

But I knew I was. There wasn’t a chance in hell I’d ever tell him. In fact, he was the last person I’d ever tell. He shook his head and tossed his stick in the water and looked over at me. His cheeks were red from the cold air and his big caramel eyes sparkled with golden flecks in them when he looked at me. I could feel my face turn red and I immediately looked down and started throwing pebbles in the river, hoping he couldn’t read my thoughts.

“You really going to homecoming with Marci Jenkins?” he asked.

I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t something I was excited about, but she made a big deal out of asking me and I felt bad saying no. “Yeah. I guess. Are you going with anyone?”

He cleared his throat. “I asked that new girl, Kara Watkins?”

“Yeah. I know who she is. Blonde, big tits, dance team.”

He laughed. “Yeah, she’s fucking hot, dude.”

I rolled my eyes again and felt a pang of red-hot jealousy hit me in the chest. It was our freshman year of high school and, so far, neither of us had much experience with girls. Chance had been too busy playing every sport known to man and, well, I was just me. I shouldn’t hate a girl I never talked to or met, but I did. That’s why I did my best in that moment to slut-shame her.

“Yeah. I heard she made out with two different guys at Jake Holloway’s party. I also heard her parents caught her doing it with some older kid from Wilsonville and that’s why she had to come to school here.” Everything I said to him was pretty much a big lie, except the part about her making out with two guys at Jake’s party (I heard that part from Marci’s friend Shelly, a completely unreliable source). I felt a little sick to my stomach after I said it. It wasn’t like me to do something like that.

I looked over at him. His face was red. He shrugged. “I don’t think that’s true. I was at Jake’s party and she did make out with Matt Hoffner, but that’s it. She told Kerri Sidner that she didn’t like him. Supposedly, she likes me. I don’t know.”

I cleared my throat and kept chucking rocks in the river. “Well, I guess she does or she wouldn’t have said she’d go to the dance with you.”

“Yeah, I guess so. I’m pretty sure she’s gonna want to make out.”

A sarcastic snicker escaped my lips. “Most likely. So what?” I was trying not to be an asshole, but the whole idea of Chance making out with someone else pissed me off. I knew I was being completely irrational, but I couldn’t help it.

“So, I’ve never done it. Have you?”

I rolled my eyes. “What? Made out with someone?”

“Yeah?”

“Chance—this is me we’re talking about. No.”

“Well, do you think Marci will want to?”

I shrugged because I hadn’t really thought about it. “I don’t know. Maybe. Are you really worried about it?”

I looked over at him and his face was still red. “Fuck no.” He ran his fingers through his wild dark hair and sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe. Aren’t you? What if I fuck it up or I don’t know what I’m doin’ or something and she tells people?”

My eyes were completely focused on Chance’s lips and I don’t know what came over me but before I could stop myself I blurted out, “We could practice.”

His face was bright red and mine felt hot. I was sure I was redder than he was. Why did I just say that? He looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “With each other?” The way he said it sounded less like a legitimate question and more like a “Are you fucking kidding me?” rhetorical question.

But at that point I’d said it and I couldn’t take it back. “Yeah. I mean, who else could we practice with? If we did it first, it wouldn’t be as weird with the girls. It’s just an idea. You don’t have to get all freaked out about it.”

All of the sudden, I felt a stinging punch to my left arm. It hurt like a son-of-a-bitch, but I wasn’t gonna tell Chance that. “Okay. Shit! Chill out. It was just an idea.”

Chance was quiet, and I was busy praying I could invent a time machine and go back to five minutes ago until he spoke again. “If we do this, dude, you can’t tell anybody.”

“Who the fuck am I gonna tell? It’s not exactly something I would want to go around broadcasting.”

The next thing I knew, he had scooted closer to me. “You be the girl. What should I do first?”

My heart was pounding. I kept wondering if the whole thing was really happening. I took a deep breath and took off my glasses and put them down on the rock beside me. “It’s not like I’m an expert or anything, but I think girls like it if you start with a regular kiss first—like soft and gentle.” Chance grabbed the back of my head and pressed his soft lips against mine for a few seconds and then pulled back.

“Like that?”

I swallowed hard. That was the first time I understood what it meant to have butterflies in your stomach. I rasped, “Yeah. Like that.”

His face was still red when he leaned in and kissed me again the same way. That time my lips parted and he slid his tongue inside my mouth. It was slow at first as our tongues explored, and then the kiss grew more urgent. It was the best thing I’d ever felt. At some point, I wrapped my hand around his neck and pulled him closer to me. I don’t know how long we were kissing. It could have been hours. It could have been minutes. All I knew was that I didn’t want to stop. It was better than I had ever imagined. By the time he pulled away, I was out of breath and he was too. I could feel my dick straining against my jeans and I pulled my knees up to my chest, hoping he couldn’t tell I had a boner.

He wiped his hand over his face. “Do you think we did it right?”

I couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah. I think. I mean, it felt good, right?”

He ran his hands through his incredible dark hair. “Yeah. I mean… yeah, I think it was right.” He backhanded me across the chest. “Remember, nobody hears about this.”

I rolled my eyes and said, “Duh.” I really wanted to ask him to practice again, but I didn’t want to press my luck.

I knew I made the right call as soon as he jumped up. “Race you back to camp!” I watched him take off running and I put my glasses back on, got up, and jogged after him. There was no reason to try. Even if he gave me a thirty-second head start, I never would have beat him.

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About the Author

Mary Esther Parker, a former attorney, is an up-and-coming new author who lives in Tennessee with her teenage daughter and a grumpy white-haired cat. She loves to read just about anything.

When she is not reading, she is writing, painting, making home improvements, or drinking wine with her best friends. She has a B.A. in Political Science and a J.D. from the University of Tennessee.

She likes writing sweet love stories that combine a lot of laughs, sometimes a few tears, ooey-gooey romance at its best, and a whole lot of steamy sex, and she believes that when you put those things all together in the right way, you get the perfect feel-good read, guaranteed to leave you smiling in the end. She believes love is love, romance is romance, and gender is irrelevant.

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Book Blast: The Selkie Prince’s Secret Baby by J.J. Masters

The Selkie Prince’s Secret Baby | J.J. Masters

The Royal Alphas #5

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Cover Artist: Megan Parker of EmCat Designs

Length: 66,226 words / 264 pages

It is a standalone story within the series

Release Date: April 6, 2019

Buy Links

Available in Kindle Unlimited

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Blurb

An alpha prince, required to find his fated mate, has already pledged his love to another. But there’s a problem…

Prince Caol of the North has enjoyed a very active, carefree life. Being the youngest of five alpha-born princes, he hasn’t had a lot of responsibilities. As he watched his brothers find their fated mates and produce sons, he knew the time would come when he’d be forced to do the same.

However, he’s in no rush since he’s quite happy with his current lover. While Caol wants to take his beta servant as his mate, the king demands the law be upheld and he finds an omega who can give him sons to continue the Selkie race.

Beck can’t bear the thought of losing his alpha—the prince he not only served for years but loved just as many—to an omega. A male fated to bear his alpha sons. However, Beck’s gender makes it impossible for the prince to take him as his mate since betas cannot produce heirs.

Galen has lost so much. Trying to mend his broken heart, the omega’s thrown into the path of his alpha when he becomes a wet-nurse to the prince’s son. A son Caol has no idea even existed.

The only problem is his alpha already has a lover. One Caol’s been with for years, one he loves. Just when Galen thought he’d never find a mate due to his past circumstances, the omega unexpectedly finds two. Was this what the fates intended?

Note: A 66k-plus word MMM ménage shifter mpreg story, this is the fifth book in the Royal Alpha series.

Due to the “knotty” times in this book, it is recommended for mature readers only. While it can be read as a standalone, it’s recommended to read the series in order. And, like all of my books, it has an HEA.

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Excerpt

Caol’s eyes popped open, but all he could see was a thick head of hair. His face was buried in the dark blond mane as he spooned the male against his naked chest. He inhaled the familiar scent of his lover deeply as he nuzzled his nose farther into the wavy locks.

His lover who was also his beta servant.

His beta servant who was also, as it turns out, the unwanted son of a king.

His arm tightened across Beck’s chest and he shifted until his morning erection nestled between the crease of his beta’s muscular buttocks. A place he knew very well. A part of his beta that Caol had worshipped time and time again.

Was it wrong that the beta servant assigned to him so many years ago, when he came of age, had been his lover for almost as long?

Maybe, according to some. Like his late father, King Solomon. Or the current king, his eldest brother Kai.

But no matter how many times Caol, the fifth and youngest alpha-born son of the late King Solomon, promised he’d stop rutting with Beck, he couldn’t.

Truth was, Beck didn’t want him to, either. Even when Caol, with good intentions, sent Beck back to his own quarters in the beta servants’ section of the compound, Beck would sneak back into his bed in the middle of the night. There was rarely a morning that Caol didn’t wake up with the beta in his arms.

No matter what anyone said, the connection between the two, an alpha Selkie prince and his beta servant, just felt right.

They had a special relationship. A deep love and affection for each other.

While his brothers all had their own betas, who they loved and treated as part of their family, Beck had always been more to Caol.

No matter how many lovers Caol had, be it human, betas, and even forbidden omegas, he always came home to Beck.

His beta never said a word about it. He didn’t have to. After years—almost a decade and a half of being together—Caol could easily read Beck’s expressions and his moods.

Even when Caol would return reeking of another male, Beck would only give him a pointed look and then help him clean up.

He knew Beck wanted to be the only male in his life, but that wasn’t possible. Caol was obligated to find his fated mate, an appropriate omega to produce heirs. By law he was expected to produce pups. He couldn’t do that with Beck.

Quite simply because betas were infertile.

But also, because Caol wasn’t certain he could only be with one male for the rest of his days on this Earth and in the Great Sea. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be satisfied with just one. Even if it was the omega who was his fated mate.

Honestly, that scared him.

Not just due to the fact he should be loyal to his future omega, the future pater of his pups, but the fact he’d have to give up Beck. Not necessarily as his servant, but as his lover.

No, Beck looked forward to helping raise Caol’s sons, even if he didn’t whelp them himself. Caol knew Beck would treat any sons born to his prince as his very own. He would be fiercely protective and loyal to his alpha’s offspring.

That was another reason why Caol loved Beck so much.

About the Author

J.J. Masters is the alter-ego of a USA Today bestselling author who writes hot, gay romance filled with heart, humor and heat. J.J. became fascinated with mpreg romance as soon as she figured out what mpreg stood for. She loves to write about “knotty” men!

You can join JJ’s FB Group HERE or her newsletter HERE to keep up with exclusive content and news.

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Book Blast: The Handyman’s History by Nick Poff

The Handyman’s History | Nick Poff

The Handyman  #4

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Publisher: Old Spruce Productions/Self-Published

Genre/s: Contemporary, gay, fiction, romance

Heat Rating: 2 flames

Length: 336 pages

Release Date, February 6, 2019

Buy Links

Available on Kindle Unlimited

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Blurb

Handyman Ed Stephens is back, exploring the past to build a future with his partner Rick in THE HANDYMAN’S HISTORY.

“Sometimes I feel like it’s their world, and we’re allowed to live in it.”

–Gordy Smith in The Handyman’s History

The year since the death of their beloved benefactress Hilda Penfield has been a busy and sometimes stressful one for Handyman Ed Stephens and his partner, Rick Benton. They hope some peace and quiet will return to Penfield Manor after they host the wedding of Rick’s sister Claire to Matt Croasdale. Instead, Ed and Rick both find themselves involved in new activities.

As Rick’s boss, Realtor Vince Cummings, becomes aware of the opportunities available in the sudden expansion of Porterfield, he and Rick become the guiding forces for a major redevelopment project. Meanwhile, Ed’s innocent suggestions regarding the revival of a local festival leads to him becoming a member of the Porterfield Days Association, and the acceptance of additional responsibilities.

It’s Rick’s discovery of a tombstone in a disused town cemetery that sparks Ed’s curiosity about the background of his father’s family. Ed begins to question the relationship he had with his deceased father, and hopes learning some of the Stephens family secrets will enable him to make peace with his unresolved feelings.

The usual cast of suspects is back to both enrich and complicate Ed’s life: His sharp-tongued but supportive mother Norma, his sister Laurie, and housekeeper Effie Maude, who maintains her position at Penfield Manor, and provides amusement for Ed and Rick with her observations and pronouncements.

Their best bud Gordy is on the scene as well, struggling to build a relationship in the early years of AIDS. Even Ed gets a taste of the hostility becoming more common as fear of the disease spreads. As Ed deals with the realities of being a gay man in a small town in 1985, he unexpectedly finds support from two unlikely sources, a visually impaired client, and a clergyman new to the town.

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Excerpt

Ed looked at him, not really seeing him, thinking back to those Saturday nights spent in the bleachers of the Porterfield gym, hooting and hollering for those perennial losers, the Bobcats. There he was – shy, skinny Ed Stephens, along with Fat Ted, Science Nerd Greg, and Four Eyes Steve, all pretending to be part of the crowd, but knowing the minute they left the Bobcat cheer block they’d be ignored by the cool kids, as usual.

Ed remembered what Gordy had said last weekend: Sometimes I feel as though it’s their world and we’re allowed to live in it.

He had certainly felt that way in high school. He wondered if his friends back then felt the same way. Perhaps they did, but Ed was sure it was harder on him because he was toting a secret burden that the others didn’t have. He was trying his best to pretend he wasn’t a homosexual.

“I lied,” he said abruptly. “About those nights at Chef’s Inn; they weren’t a blast. They sucked.”

Rick looked at him seriously. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I never felt comfortable. Not really. I guess I just want to remember them as being a blast, you know?”

“High school,” Rick sighed. “Baby, you’re preaching to the choir, remember? I was so alone back then, so miserable. I don’t even want to think how many times I contemplated suicide. I’m just grateful it’s over with.”

“But don’t you sometimes wish,” Ed persisted, “that it was a blast? We had the best music ever, the cars were cool, and so were the movies and TV shows. It seems like it should have been fun.”

“The music was great,” Rick admitted. “The people at Broad Ripple High, however, were not. I hated it, and I don’t think that makes you or me any different from all those other guys like us. In fact, if there is a homosexual out there who was really happy in high school I hope I never met him, ‘cause I’d probably have to kill him.”

Ed chuckled.

“And about the music, well, we’ve got it. I mean, you’ve still got all your records, and we listen to them all the time because we still love those songs so much. It belongs to us. It’s one thing we were able to salvage from those years. And I think music kind of helps to wash away some of the sadness, you know; kind of like putting rose-coloured glass on the memories to make them prettier.”

Ed thought about Rick’s words. “That’s pretty good,” he said in admiration.

Rick grinned. “Yeah, it is, isn’t it? Anyway,” he said dropping the newspaper and picking up the book he was currently reading, “I guess that’s how I can compromise the whole thing in my head and not go crazy.”

Ed stood up and stretched, feeling restless. Arnie came into the room, looking for him. Ed picked up the cat and headed for the stairs.

“I thought you’d be going to the den to drool over the guy Solid Gold dancers,” Rick said.

“Eeh. I’m not in the mood for drooling. I think I’ll go upstairs and find something to read.

“Besides,” he said with a leer at Rick. “If I’m patient I still get to have you all to myself tomorrow night.”

Rick’s smile for him was as warm and tender as it ever had been. “It’s a date, baby. Count on it.”

Ed slowly walked upstairs, cradling the cat more for his own comfort than Arnie’s. He was suddenly very tired, but also incredibly grateful that Rick was in his life.

About the Author

Nick Poff lives in Fort Wayne, Indiana. The Handyman’s History is his fourth novel.

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Twitter: @NickPoff

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Book Blast: An Extra Alpha by Sarah Havan

An Extra Alpha | Sarah Havan

Pine Wood Falls #2

pinewoodfalls

Genre/s: Contemporary, MM, Romance, mPreg

Heat Rating: 4-5 flames

Length: 72,000 words/ 365 pages

The story is part of a series but can be read as a stand-alone

Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US | Amazon UK

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extraAlphaNew23.jpg

Blurb

They didn’t realize they could both get him pregnant.

Thomas escaped his ex and has settled in at Pine Wood Falls. He found himself a nice job, has a cute little house, and his twins are now five months old. The last thing he wants or expects is to go into heat again so soon. He tries to fight the urge but can’t hold off any longer.

Campbell catches the scent of his fated omega. He finally found the one and can’t wait to start a family. So he goes to one of Pine Wood Falls get-togethers to do what nature wants of him, what he wants–to mate with his fated one, but the situation gets turned on its head when there’s another alpha there that wants his omega.

All Griffin wants is a good time. He doesn’t believe he’s fated for anyone, that’s all in the past. He just wants his needs met, but another alpha stands in his way. Luckily, they all come to an agreement. The three of them together.

They don’t think they can both get the young omega pregnant. Thomas doesn’t think he’s fated for either of them, but when he ends up pregnant with quads, they all have some things to work out.

AN EXTRA ALPHA BLURB.jpg

Excerpt

Chapter One

Campbell

My time for a family had finally come. For days, the scent of my fated omega lingered in my nose. A smell so sweet and intoxicating. He was on the verge of going into heat, and now there he was, right across from me in the very place I first picked up his scent — The Pine Wood Falls Welcome Center.

“Can I help you with something, sir?” he asked. I took in a sharp breath as he looked up at me with his amazing green eyes. He swiped a strand of his light-blond hair out of his face and stood up, shuffling some papers on his desk. I had about a good foot on the omega in height. He was small and precious, and even though he didn’t know it yet, my future.

“I’m supposed to meet with Mr. Jones.”

“Okay, I’ll let him know you’re here.” His eyes then darted around the office. “Mr. Jones usually meets with everyone out in the dayroom.”

“All right. I’m Campbell. Campbell Vallejo,” I said, holding my hand out for a shake.

“Thomas,” he said, shaking my hand. He gasped when our palms met. Neither of us pulled our hands away.

“Nice to meet you, Thomas.” I gave him a smile, and his cheeks flushed bright pink.

He nodded and glanced down.

“Campbell, good to see you.” Mr. Jones walked into the small office and clapped me on the back. Thomas let go of my hand and dropped his arms to his sides.

“Hello, Mr. Jones.” Mr. Jones was a tall, attractive man with dark brown skin and a happy smile. His omega passed away years ago, so he now focused all of his attention on Pine Wood Falls. The very community his family started.

“I see you’ve met Thomas.”

“Sure have.”

“He’s our newest hire. Pine Wood Falls is growing, and we needed someone to help things run smoothly. He’s going to be a great administrative assistant.”

“Just start?” I asked.

“No, it’s been a couple months. I’m just not very good at my job, I guess.” Thomas’ face fell, and he fiddled with a file folder he picked up and held in front of his pants.

“I should reword that. You are a great administrative assistant.” Mr. Jones smiled and put his hands on his hips.

“Thanks,” Thomas whispered.

“Thomas,” Mr. Jones said.

He glanced up.

“You are. Now, Campbell, let’s go out to the dayroom and have our strategy meeting.” Mr. Jones led me out from the office, through the foyer, and to a table in the corner of the dayroom. He waved at a chair for me to sit in.

“I don’t think I’ve seen Thomas around before. Is he new to the community?” I glanced over my shoulder, hoping he’d be standing there. One omega knitted in the corner with a couple of baby carriers at their feet, and an alpha/omega couple sat on the back couch, but no Thomas.

“Newish. He showed up here about five months ago on the verge of having his babies, and we took him in. He’s been a little wary of others, so he doesn’t venture out much. Up until about a month ago, he worked from home.”

“And his alpha?” I asked because if he already had children perhaps somehow my senses were off. Maybe I was just smelling the part of him that was about to go into heat and not the part that would be mine.

“Gone, and we’re glad of that, bad news, but I shouldn’t talk too much about the poor boy. I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate it.”

“Of course.”

Mr. Jones and I got down to work. He wanted to use my skills as a creative director at an advertising firm to help reach alphas and omegas who are new to Pine Wood Falls or hadn’t found their way there yet.

“I can make up some nice informational booklets for those who just arrive.” As with any new project, my mind whirled with tons of ideas.

“And for those who have just found out.”

“Of course, I can do that.”

“Some come to our meet and greets, but it would be nice to give them something they can take home and read, and some don’t want to talk to others yet.” Mr. Jones said.

“I could imagine if you just found out you had the alpha or omega wolf gene, it would be a lot to process.”

“Yes, it is a lot, but we’ve been lucky to have you here since you were born.”

“And I love it here and would never leave.” I did go away to college, but returned to live, working in the city not too far away. My dream was to find my fated omega and live the life I only hoped for. I lost family when I was younger and raised by a widowed omega.

“Now how much is your going rate?” Mr. Jones clasped his hands together on the table in front of him and gave me a smile.

“I’m not going to charge you. It’ll be my way of giving back.” That was how Pine Wood Falls kept going after so many years. We all did our part.

“That’s so kind. Now, what do you know about websites?”

“You want to take us public?” We were proud of who we were but knew the reality, how the general population would more than likely react negatively to a group of people with wolf genes and how a large portion of them, the ones with the omega gene, were intersex who can carry and give birth to children. Slowly, men (not all omegas identified as men, but many did) having children was becoming socially recognized, but most the omegas didn’t like the attention that it brought. We mainly wanted to keep our way of life quiet.

“No, but I wish there was some way for people who look online for information to have a way to reach us or to learn more, but without having a site saying what we are. And that sounds pretty impossible.”

“Would a site with an email and phone number do?” I asked.

“But how would they know they found the right thing?” Mr. Jones waved to a young couple that had walked in. One of them being a very pregnant omega.

“Keywords. People search by keywords, so if someone searched up male and pregnant, your site would come up, but it wouldn’t have to say any of that on the site itself.”

Mr. Jones smiled. “That sounds perfect.”

“I’ll get right on it.”

“Thank you so much, Campbell.”

“No problem. You and Pine Wood Falls have done so much for me. It’s about time I gave back.”

“You donate plenty.”

“It’s about more than money. Anybody who has it can donate it.”

“You’ve contributed so much to the community. You just don’t realize it.”

“Thanks, and I’ll get started on this all as soon as I get home.” As I left, I took in a deep breath, the scent of Thomas lingering in my nose, making me so hard.

About the Author

Sarah Havan grew up in the Midwest and still actually lives there. She has an appreciation for having all four seasons. She writes all kinds of romance, but most recently has focused on gay romance in her writing.

She is also the author of Falling Into Trust, One Night Alone, and the Pine Wood Falls series.

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Book Blast: Apple Boy by Isobel Starling

Apple Boy | Isobel Starling

The Quiet Work Series #1

Publisher: Decent Fellows Press

Cover Artist: Valentine Pascadian (Lennel)

Genre/s: Fantasy, MM, Romance

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length:103 600 words/ 556 pages

Release Date: February 15, 2019

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Available on Kindle Unlimited

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apple boy cover final

Blurb

After a traumatic event, Winter Aeling finds himself destitute and penniless in the backwater town of Mallowick. He needs to travel to the city of Serein and impart grave news that will bring war to the Empire, but without a horse, money, and with not a soul willing to help him, he has no choice but to line up with the common folk seeking paid work on the harvest.

As wagons roll into the market square and farmers choose day laborers, Winter is singled out for abuse by a brute of a farmer. The only man who stands up for him is the farmer’s beguiling son, Adam, and on locking eyes with the swarthy young man Winter feels the immediate spark of attraction.

Winter soon realizes there is a reason he has been drawn to Blackdown Farm. The farmer possesses a precious item that was stolen long ago from Winter’s family, and he determines to retrieve it.

He also cannot take his eyes off the farmer’s son, and as the young man opens up Winter can’t help wondering if Adam is just kind or his kind!

Excerpt

“Apple Boy” by Isobel Starling

CHAPTER 1

MARKET SQUARE

“You boy, aye, YOU. Ain’t never seen ye round ‘ere before,” The farmer directed his bellow at me.

It was sunrise, and at last, I’d found the courage to step out of my hiding place and join the common laborers who gathered in Mallowick market square. We were waiting for the farmers’ carts to come by and choose their day workers. I’d watched this ritual each morning for the past three days, peeking out from shadowed doorways, or while crouching behind barrels.

It was harvest time, and it appeared to be routine for peasants to walk from the surrounding hamlets before dawn and assemble in the square to seek work on the farms. There was wheat, barley, root vegetables, and tree fruits to be gathered before the weather turned. I was informed by a ruddy looking fellow in the tavern that anyone could get work on the harvest, and so, with my pride cut to ribbons and my pockets empty, I’d stepped out of the safety of my hiding place and joined the commoners.

“Does ye wants work or no’? Look at me when I’m talkin’ to ye. What’s yer name?” The burley farmer roared. I looked up, stunned to be singled out from among all of these strapping men and hardy looking women, for I felt invisible. Four carts had already passed and taken their pick of the young, strong peasants, but none of those farmers gave me a second glance. I should have known something was afoot, for when this particular wagon turned up the women in the square shrank back into doorways, and men sidled away to lean against buildings. On the side of the wagon, writ-large in bold off-white letters were the words BLACKDOWN FARM. There were around thirty of us left on view, like cattle.

I had never partaken in manual labor or any kind of work before. I was a gentleman and far more familiar with spending my days relaxing, reading, attending social events in the city, or taking a horse for a gallop in the country. But my life had changed since I’d become stranded here in the Pasturelands provincial town of Mallowick two weeks earlier. Now I was living on my wits. Each day was a fight for my life, and I’d sold all of my fine belongings, intending to pay for passage on the stagecoach from Mallowick to the city of Serein. But I had not thought things through, and it did not happen that way. My body’s needs took precedent. I’d become so ravenous, and therefore the meager coin I’d gathered from selling my finery was spent on what I could afford—basic rough barley bread and ale, just enough to stave off the gnawing pangs of hunger in my belly each day.

Now, I had no belongings, and the money was all but gone. I was no thief, and the only thing I had left to sell was my body. Looking like a wretch, I did not believe I could earn even a copper that way! Before I left on my travels, I was warned that the province of Erias had strict rules about men bedding other men and I did not want to tempt fate. I was at a loss—hard labor or starvation were the only choices available to me. Gods, if my father could see how far I’d fallen in such a short time, he would be thoroughly ashamed. I was living hand-to-mouth, and if I dared to seek out my reflection and observe my disreputable state of dress, I was sure I would see I was no longer a gentleman at all.

I assured myself that all would be well as soon as I could get to the city of Serein. There I would attend my father’s depository and obtain funds from his account—as had been arranged, and then, I could find my way to my uncle’s residence and attend to a much grimmer business.

So, with no other choice, I was here, standing in Mallowick market square with a bunch of rough-looking fellows and ruddy-faced women with just the ragged clothes I stood in to my name. I wondered if my visage had taken on the same gaunt, starved, haunted look some of them wore.

“WELL?” The farmer roared.

“Leave him be Pa; I think he’s a mute. P… p… please don’t—” A swarthy young man urged, stepping to the farmers’ side. The man appeared to be in his early twenties, with broad angular shoulders, slim hips, and wavy jaw-length hair that longingly reminded me of Montestein tea. When the morning sunlight broke through the clouds and caressed him, the strands of his hair revealed all the shades of autumn. It was beautiful. His eyes were bright emerald green, and his skin bore the wind-burned tan of a man who spent his days working the land. I met his gaze for a second that seemed to stop time, and I felt a flutter of longing erupt in my gut. I found myself mesmerized by him. He appeared a little embarrassed, for himself or for me, I wasn’t quite sure. The farmer turned to his son.

“Shut that filthy mouth o’ yours, apple boy!” he spat. His large meaty hands twitched. He sneered and glared at his son in such a wicked way I knew it should have been followed up by a sharp slap. I worried that the young man would endure further public humiliation at the hands of his father, but the farmer moved his disdainful glare back to me. I shuddered with fear. I had a feeling that he was saving his son’s punishment for later—away from the prying eyes of the townsfolk. I did not like that thought, not one bit. I did not know why the farmer was drawn to me, but he sized me up with a sweeping glance of consideration, then wrinkled his nose as if he’d sniffed a revolting stench—I hadn’t bathed in two weeks, so maybe I did smell a tad ripe!

“Is ye a mute?”

I shook my head. I would say, if anything, I was deeply traumatized by the unfortunate circumstance I’d found myself in, but no, I was certainly not a mute. I just wasn’t used to a lowly man speaking to me so roughly. Generally, men who dared to address me knew their betters and behaved appropriately. But here in Mallowick, in the province of Erias, I was no better than a beggar on the street. There was no one I could call on for favors, no one who, on hearing my family name, would loan me coin for the stagecoach or a horse to ride to the city and send word to my father.

When I’d first arrived in Mallowick, telling the truth of my station had gotten me dragged down an alley where my finger and earrings were stolen, and I’d received a beating. This farmer from Blackdown Farm had no idea who I was, and I would not make the same mistake again.

I took a breath and stepped out of line. “Master Irwin Harding, sir. You may call me Win.” I winced at hearing my own soft, well-spoken voice, with my accent, the clipped tongue of Thorn. I had not used my real name and wished I had not used my true voice either. The fact that I was the son of the Duke of Thorn meant nothing here. Thorn was west of Erias, on the other side of the Silua Montis Mountain range, and I doubted any of these illiterate souls in Mallowick knew anything other than that folklore passed around by storytellers.

The farmer stepped to stand in front of me. He was a big, bulky bastard of a man and stank of stale sweat and baccy. He had a grizzled podgy face and thick dark hair shot with strands of silver pulled into an untidy tail. The tension grew between us, and I worried I’d spoken out of turn. I looked down and watched my bare, filthy feet as if they held endless fascination. I’d seen men like him before. He had hands like shovels, and I’m sure they’d done damage in their time. My father would have used a man like him well, probably as muscle to intimidate the city folk while the Royal Chancellor did the rounds collecting taxes.

Afraid and sweating with anxiety, I glanced up and away, unable to look at the farmer directly and meet his fierce piggy eyes. Instead, I looked left and caught the eye of his son. I felt another flutter of attraction. I was grateful for it because it dampened my fear a little. The glance the farmers’ son sent me back was sheepish, apologetic. He shrugged and put a finger to his lips, signaling for me to hush. I’m sure now he knew what was coming.

Master, is it?” The farmer gave a raspy malevolent chuckle. “Well, well, well aren’t ye an uppity little scrote. Such a pretty voice an’ all. Have your balls dropped yet, lad?”

The townsmen men standing around me shuffled on their feet and snickered uncomfortably. I could tell from the tentative laughter they were afraid of this man too. My chest tightened with fury, and I felt the flare of heat rush to color my cheeks. If in Thorn I would have put this fellow in his place, but as directed by the farmers’ handsome son, I held my tongue.

I dared to look up as the farmer scratched his grizzled chin and consider me. It was then I saw it. A chill iced my bones. On his chubby right index finger, he wore a gold ring set with a large red gemstone that I was aghast to see held the intaglio engraving of a rose thorn—my family’s seal. How had this disgusting Pasturelands farmer come upon my family’s ring? Anger curdled my gut, but I forced myself to focus and fixed my features so as not to alert the man to what I was looking at. That ring was more precious than I could say. It was not set with any common gemstone, oh no, the setting was Star-fall. The legend was that mortal tools could not cut the rich-red Star-fall stone. The gemstone was shaped by sorcery, and the power that carved into the gem was stored inside it as if the Star-fall was a reservoir for the magic. It was illegal for any other than the Twin Kings of Osia to own Star-fall. The king’s men had scoured the Empire to remove all traces of the priceless gem from common and aristocratic hands and possessing it was a death sentence. Did this ruffian have any idea what he wore?

Not getting a rise from me, the farmer stepped yet closer and found out for himself if my balls had dropped. He reached for my privates and squeezed.

Ahh, ye got some big stones de’re al’right, boy,” he said with a filthy sneer.

“Done any labourin’ before, lad?” My eyes watered. I shook my head and winced as the pressure on my most sensitive parts rose. I wanted to shout and push him away, punch him in that bristly pug face. I’d trained in hand-to-hand combat and swordplay, but that was of little use to me now that I had no sword and was cast as naught but a commoner myself. I stood frozen to the spot with fear, my cock, and balls in the hand of this brutish man. I was sure that clutching my nethers was not the best way to test if I would be a good apple picker.

The farmer let go, stepped back, and looked me over again like he was sizing up a prize pig. I wanted to keel over, hold my sensitive parts and howl, but, with my eyes watering, I kept my back ramrod straight and looked past the farmer, using his son’s regretful, pretty green eyes as my focus.

I appeared to be a boy, but I am nineteen and about to make my majority. I have a tall, willowy frame, and little muscle to show for my near twenty summers. Weeks before, I was clothed in the silken garb of a lordling, but all I wore now were my stinky silk britches and a once-white linen shirt. I’d even had to sell my fine leather boots. My flaxen hair hung loosely to my shoulders and was bedraggled. My mother had always told me my hair shone like a golden halo. I guessed that was no longer the case. I had not seen my reflection in two weeks so I could only imagine how frightful I appeared to onlookers. My circumstance was terrible, but I refused to let it defeat me. I was a son of Thorn, I was a gentleman, damn it, and I was prepared to do whatever it took to do to find my way to my destination and seek justice for all the ill-luck that had befallen me.

“Right, scrote, up on the wagon,” the farmer declared. “We can always do wit a few extra scurrier’s fer the windfalls.”

I had no idea what that actually meant, but strangely relieved to be selected, I nodded subserviently and then, ducking my head to avoid the farmers’ glare, I scurried to the wagon where I surreptitiously gave my aching intimate parts a gentle rub.

I’d heard from a fellow in the tavern that harvesting wheat at Robinswood Farm was backbreaking, as was digging root vegetables at Windy Oakes Farm. He advised that apple picking was easy work and if I could get employment at Weatherby’s or Blackdown Farm, they paid good coin. He said the mistress at Blackdown was particularly well-liked and always gave laborers a bread and cheese luncheon with last season’s cider. I was so hungry that bread and cheese sounded like a banquet. The fellow had neglected to tell me that the farmer was a brute!

The farmers’ son met me by the wagon and offered to help me aboard. For a moment, from the look of consideration in his eyes, I thought he could see past the disheveled state of me to the gentleman I’d once been. But that was ridiculous. The farmers’ son hopped up onto the back of the wagon with dexterous athleticism, and then offered me his hands. I took them without a thought. His warm touch and the strength in those work-roughened fingers twisted my gut into uncomfortable knots. He fixed my gaze as he gripped both of my hands and tugged me up as easily as if he were lifting feather down. He pulled me closed and pressed me to his hard chest.

“Don’t back chat him or it’ll be the worst fer you,” he whispered the warning to my ear. Alarmed, I eased back from him and cautiously met his eye for a split second. In the look he gave me I saw that the warning was well-meant. Bewildered, I nodded in thanks and understanding. I had no idea why this stranger was looking out for me, but the fact he was warmed my heart. I choked back a tear. No one had looked out for me over these past weeks, and I had been so terribly lonely. I’d learned some hard life lessons on this leg of my journey, and I’d come to understand that here my title was irrelevant, and without money I was suddenly invisible; therefore small kindnesses meant more than I could say.

My adventure into the provinces had been made to appease my father for my supposed ‘lack of direction.’ I’d become bored with my easy life in Thorn, and not intending to marry; I’d told my father that in-light of my upcoming twentieth Bloomsday I wanted to tour the Empire. If I were to one-day become Duke of Thorn, I needed to know a little of the politics of each province and so, pleased with my initiative and happy to be rid of me for a while, he’d set me on my way. I’d toured the provinces of Terria, Corvay, and Reuss and then continued to the province of Osia, spending time in the capital city Altea, at the court of the Twin Kings, Kristoff, and Fabian Von Harte. With this journey to Erias, I was to have the full set of provinces under my belt. But fate was not on my side.

On benches affixed to either side of the farmers’ wagon sat fourteen men morosely staring at their bare, filthy feet, not a word of chatter between them. They each owned a small pack of belongings and a wrapped blanket that each had stowed beneath the bench. At this moment they were better-off than me, for I did not even have a blanket to my name. There was space for me and five more, totaling twenty men. The farmer chose from the remaining laborers with less consideration than I had been afforded.

“Right… I’ll take Allin, Jed, Arthur, Bartram, and Matty, that’ll do me fer the week,” he hollered decisively.

The week? I thought I’d promised myself for a hard day’s labor? But then again, I considered the harvesters who were sitting in the wagon, and yes, they appeared to have prepared for an overnight stay. Confused, I sat down as the other laborers were pulled up onto the wagon by their comrades, and then we shuffled along the benches until we were all seated. I noticed the shoulders of the remaining men in the market square sag a little in apparent relief as if some mighty weight had lifted from them. I didn’t understand it. I thought they’d wanted to work?

The farmers’ son clambered over into the front of the wagon. His father climbed on, the man’s bulk shaking the timbers of the rickety wagon as he settled on the bench beside him. The son handed his father the ribbons, which the farmer greedily snatched up, and then with a fearsome bellow of “Geddup” and a thunderous whip crack, the large mottled grey workhorse began its cumbersome trot down the main street and onto the dusty road to Blackdown Farm.

 

About the Author

Isobel Starling spent most of her twenty-year professional career making art in Ireland. She relocated to the UK and, faced with the dreaded artist’s creative block, Isobel started to write and found she loved writing more than making art.

Isobel is currently working on her nineteenth book.

“As You Wish” (Shatterproof Bond#1) narrated by Gary Furlong won the Audiobook Reviewer Award for Romance 2018. It is the first M/M Romance audiobook to win a mainstream audiobook award.

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Book Blast: Shadowmancer by Devin Harnois

Shadowmancer | Devin Harnois

Paladin Charm #1

Shadowmancer_Digital_Large.jpg

October Night Publishing

Publication Date: May 5, 2019

Length: 54,000 words

Buy Link

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07MFWVXDL

Add to Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/43542754-shadowmancer

Blurb

Marius Everhart is something even mages fear — a shadowmancer. His power marks him as cursed, a creature belonging to the Queen of Shadows. Marius escaped her realm with his memories corrupted and his sanity in tatters, managing to live a fragile, lonely existence at the edges of society.

Some might call Ayodele Sauveterre delusional. He prefers the term “optimistic”. With his homeland in danger from invasion, Ayodele will do anything to protect it, even recruit a shadowmancer.

Marius’s incredible power and gentle nature make him a perfect addition to Paladin Charm, a new mage guild dedicated to helping rather than exploiting the non-magical populace. The fact that handsome Marius also warms Ayodele’s bed is a wonderful bonus.

With support from Ayodele and his new friends in the guild, Marius begins to heal. He’s also quickly falling for the alluring mage, but Ayodele struggles with what’s forming between them. Past experience left Ayodele flippant but guarded, and Marius’s open honesty unnerves him.

As they grow closer, Paladin Charm prepares for a battle with impossible odds. And in the darkness, the Queen of Shadows waits to reclaim Marius and drag him back into a nightmare.

Excerpt

Ayodele followed Marius up to his room. They hadn’t said anything, and Marius wondered if he should, or what he should say. Marius stepped inside the room—mine, this is really all mine—and Ayodele closed the door.

“I’m not one to play coy when there’s something I want, and I know honesty is important to you, so I’m going to be honest.” Ayodele stepped close and slid a hand up Marius’s chest. “I want to have sex with you.”

That answered one question at least. Marius looked into Ayodele’s beautiful dark eyes, surrounded by gold and blue, then his gaze moved down to the man’s full lips.

Ayodele’s hand reached his shoulder and kept going up until his fingers brushed Marius’s neck. “So are you agreeable, or have I been misreading you?”

Marius lunged, his body almost moving on its own. He pulled Ayodele into his arms and seized the other man’s lips. They were even warmer and softer than Marius had imagined and tasted of the chocolate cream cake they’d had for dessert. For a moment there was nothing but the hot rush of sensation.

Then Marius remembered other lips, other kisses. A girl in the schoolyard, quick and awkward. A boy as they splashed in the stream. A woman beneath a starlit sky. She’d been murdered and he’d vowed his revenge, asking the Queen of Shadows to give him—

No, that wasn’t real. Was it?

He pulled back, forcing his mind into the present. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Confusion crossed Ayodele’s face, then he blinked it away. “Worried you’ll break my heart?”

Marius put more distance between them, almost running into a chair. “I’m worried my mind will slip.”

“I have caused people to lose their minds in bed, but only in a good way.”

“You really aren’t afraid of me, are you?” Ayodele had proven it the past three nights, comforting Marius every time he woke from a nightmare, braving the wild shadows again and again.

“No.” Pale purple light covered Ayodele’s body as he took a slow step toward Marius.

“There. I used a protection spell.” His utter confidence sent Marius’s heart racing.

“If my mind wanders, I might get lost in my memories.” Marius said it more to himself so he’d remember this was a bad idea.

“Then I’ll have to make sure you stay focused on me.”

About The Author

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Devin Harnois writes YA and Romance of the fantastical sort. Most of his books involve magic, monsters, and hope. Somehow they keep getting more queer.

When he isn’t writing he spends too much time on Twitter and plays a lot of Dragon Age.

In second grade he wrote his first story, a romance about two mice falling in love. He still has the original draft.

Social Media

Twitter: @devinharnois

Website: devinharnois.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Devin-Harnois-119946704699190/

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