Tag Archives: Cultural Differences

Release Blitz: Winter Of The Owl by Iris Foxglove

Winter Of The Owl | Iris Foxglove

Seasons Of The Likoi #1

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Release Date: December 21st, 2021

Cover Design: Garrett Leigh at Black Jazz Designs

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Blurb

Sava has the best house in all of Lukos. He built it himself, dreaming of the day when he and Milan, the man he loved, could live there and brave the harsh winters of Lukos together—only to be devastated when Milan was found dead in the spring. Fraught with grief, Sava resigns himself to spending his winters alone.

Then a stranger appears on his doorstep, and everything changes.

Victor is a scholar from Gerakia, a land known for its long summers and vibrant history, and he has never been more unprepared in his life. Abandoned on the inhospitable island of Lukos after a disastrous relationship, Victor has to adapt quickly to survive. It helps, of course, that he’s taken in by Sava, who has the biggest heart of any man Victor has ever known. Victor and Sava start to make a home together, growing close as snow falls outside, but the true danger of a Lukos winter is closer than they suspect…

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Excerpt

“Ah, Snow-Walker. You’re home. Good.” Dragan Wolf-Breaker, kuvar of the Lukoi, stood on Sava’s porch. He was a man of indiscriminate age, with thick, dark hair worn pulled back and braided out of his face and the pale, ice-blue eyes possessed by all those of his line. Wolf eyes, they were called, and according to some they was a sign he was meant to rule the Lukoi. He was clean-shaven, as most of them were before the snows, and dressed in simple leathers and fur, with high, sturdy boots topped with fur, a knife sheathed at his side.

Also at his side was a slight man Sava had never seen before. He had lovely reddish-brown skin, curly dark hair that was blowing about in the wind, and huge brown eyes flecked with gold and green—they reminded Sava of the hills right before winter took them, the faded grasses that looked so lovely in the light of the setting sun—over which he wore two pieces of round glass connected by a wire. He was shivering, dressed poorly in what appeared to be threadbare fabrics and a pair of boots that were too big for him. Sava thought he’d seen Elena—the kuvar’s daughter—wear those boots a time or two.

“Zora found a man,” Dragan said. “Let us come in before he freezes on your porch, Snow-Walker.”

Sava nodded and stepped back, and the pair entered the house. The shivering man with the messy hair looked longingly at the fire but seemed to shy away from going closer.

“Go and get warm.” Dragan pointed toward the fire, sounding perhaps a bit exasperated. His dominance was heavy enough that even Sava could feel it, and it made the young man sway a bit before he moved.

“Zora found him?” Sava asked, curious, as the man walked over and knelt before the fire, muttering in a language Sava didn’t know. “Where?”

“On the beach.” Dragan shrugged. “He was left by a boat. He’s a book-writer.”

“No, that word is wrong that I am,” the man said, glancing up, like he couldn’t help himself. He winced the second Sava and Dragan looked at him and immediately lowered his gaze, muttering something to the floor.

“Why would a boat leave a book-writer?” Sava asked. “It is soon to be winter. Snow says nothing; it is silent.”

The man’s head snapped up again, and he said something in a language Sava didn’t understand. At their blank looks, he added, “Those words pretty are.”

Sava glanced at Dragan, who shook his head. “He is from a place, Zora said, where they sit around in rooms and talk about other people.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Dragan said. “But he said he would be here unless another boat comes for him.”

“No boat will come here anytime soon,” Sava said, as the sky rumbled above them. “Only snow.”

“Yes. I think he was a problem. So, you know the laws, Sava.”

Sava did know the laws. There weren’t many, but one that all Lukoi adhered to was the one that kept their civilization in existence long after the country that exiled their ancestors to this snow-covered island had fallen into ruin: those exiled to die, survive. If someone had sent this man here to die, he was now one of them.

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About the Author

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Iris Foxglove is a shared pen name between two authors, Avon Gale and Fae Loxley. Together, they’re writing fantasy with an emphasis on biological imperative kink (“BDSM alternate universe” or “D/s-verse”), complex worldbuilding and unforgettable characters.

You can follow Iris on twitter @irisfoxglove, or sign up for Iris’ newsletter: http://eepurl.com/hrhA6z

Iris is also on Patreon! Check it out for extras and all sorts of goodies here: https://www.patreon.com/irisfoxglove

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To celebrate the release of Winter of the Owl, the authors is giving away 2 audio codes and 2 e-books of the winners choice from Iris Foxgloves backlist

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Blog Tour: To Target The Heart by Aldrea Alien

To Target The Heart | Aldrea Alien

Spellster #2

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Cover Artist: Leonardo Borazio

Release Date: April 15, 2020

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 226,000 words

It is a standalone book

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Available on Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US | Amazon UK

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Blurb

How can he win with the odds stacked against him?

Prince Hamish has no interest in fulfilling his duty of marrying. Not to a woman, at least. That doesn’t stop his mother, Queen Fiona, from presenting him with every eligible noblewoman that enters their castle. He’s certain it’ll be no different with the representative of the Udynea Empire.

So when they do arrive, Hamish is relieved the imperial prince, Darshan, is not the woman everyone expected. Until the man kisses him and Hamish is confronted by the very emotions he has been forced to conceal or be punished for. Emotions he is eager to explore.

But the kiss proves to be a little too public and leads his mother to take drastic measures to ensure Hamish adheres to her family vision. The contest of arms will force Hamish to make a choice: give up his happiness for convention’s sake or send the kingdom spiralling into civil war for the right to love his own way.

Excerpt

The whole pub seemed to grow still the longer Darshan stared at the man, his expression blank.

“Bill,” Hamish hissed at the dockmaster. “That’s enough.” The man must have realised it would be the grandsire of all bad ideas to piss off someone capable of setting things on fire with a thought.

Ignoring Hamish, Billy continued to give the spellster a smarmy smile.

Darshan returned the grin, his tongue snaking out to run along the underside of his teeth. He calmly unhooked his glasses from behind his ears. “Hold these, will you?” he asked, waving the frames in Hamish’s general direction.

Hamish took a cautious step backwards. He couldn’t be certain if Darshan was merely posturing or actually planned to attack the man, but it would be better if he stayed out of it. After all, he couldn’t haul Darshan back to the castle if they were both unconscious.

He delicately reached for the glasses.

Darshan barely waited for Hamish to properly grasp them before he swung at Billy, clearly aiming for the man’s head.

Billy jerked back, too late in mounting a defence against the attack.

The spellster’s fist—heavily bedecked in jewelled rings—connected with Billy’s face like a hammer. The definite snap of breaking bone was almost an exhalation.

The dockmaster fell back, howling. Blood poured from beneath the man’s fingers, staining his blonde beard. At first, Hamish thought the ambassador had only broken Billy’s nose, until he caught sight of the dockmaster’s jaw. One side bulged alarmingly, whilst the right, the side Darshan had hit, was caved in.

The two men flanking Billy lunged at the spellster.

Sneering, Darshan flicked both his hands as if brushing the dust from his outfit. The men went flying, smashing into the walls. Neither one got up.

More men jumped up from their seats, agog. One ran out the door screaming. Not a one of them seemed to know what to do about the spellster who had made short work of three men; a foreigner who still stood over Billy without a care as to the bleeding state of his hand. Hamish wasn’t entirely certain it was even Darshan’s blood. Surely, with the force he’d hit the dockmaster, he must’ve broken something.

Darshan turned. He squinted at Hamish, then held out his bloodied hand. The fingers and knuckles seemed normal enough. No twists or swelling that suggested any harm had come to them. “My glasses, if you please?”

Hamish returned the item in question back to their owner. “I think this might be the best time to leave.” There’d be trouble once word of this got out—and a lot of questions Hamish wasn’t looking forward to answering. But if they returned to the castle now, then Gordon might be able to help him wrangle a more palatable version of events for his mother.

With the glasses once more firmly in place on his face, Darshan glared at Billy. “One moment.” He strode over to the howling man and grabbed his head. “Do not move or I will leave you injured. And I would advise against trying to talk.”

Billy stilled. Panic and fear flashed in his tear-redden eyes.

It had been some years since Hamish had last been in the presence of healing magic. But he’d been in no position to objectively watch either. Seeing the man’s face slowly reform to its previous state was something he’d never thought he would witness.

Billy’s cheeks shifted alarmingly, like a bubbling pot of porridge. The skin constantly changed colour, from the pinkish-red of freshly-struck to the bruised rainbow hues of blue, purple and green, then fading to trout-brown before regaining its natural wrinkled and heavily-tanned state.

Throughout it all, Billy’s eyes grew wider. He whimpered and fisted at his trousers. If Darshan hadn’t already stipulated stillness, he likely would’ve bolted from the spellster’s grip.

When Darshan was done, he released Billy’s head and let the man tumble onto the floor. “Call me that again and I shall do the same,” he snarled as he bent over the dockmaster. “Only next time, you can keep the broken jaw. Understood?”

Billy nodded. “Aye, your lordship.” He back-crawled across the flagstones, pausing only to rub his jaw and standing once Darshan was well beyond physical reach.

Dusting his hands, the ambassador returned to Hamish’s side. “As entertaining as that was, I think you are right, we should return to the castle.”

About the Author

Aldrea Alien is an award-winning, bisexual author of fantasy romance with varying heat levels. Born and raised in New Zealand, she lives on a small farm with her family, including a menagerie of animals, who are all convinced they’re just as human as the next person. Especially the cats.

Since discovering a love of writing at the age of twelve, she hasn’t found an ounce of peace from the characters plaguing her mind with all of them clamouring for her to tell their story first.

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Blog/Website | Facebook | Facebook Group | Twitter

Newsletter Sign-Up | Instagram | BookBub

Giveaway

Enter the Rafflecopter giveaway for a chance to win an ebook copy of In Pain and Blood or one of two ebook copies of An Unexpected Gift

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Cover Reveal: To Target The Heart by Aldrea Alien

To Target The Heart | Aldrea Alien

Spellster #2

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Cover Artist: Leonardo Borazio

Release Date: April 15, 2020

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 226,000 words

It is a standalone book.

Pre-Order

Amazon US | Amazon UK

Add on Goodreads

TTtH Cover

Blurb

How can he win with the odds stacked against him?

Prince Hamish has no interest in fulfilling his duty of marrying. Not to a woman, at least. That doesn’t stop his mother, Queen Fiona, from presenting him with every eligible noblewoman that enters their castle. He’s certain it’ll be no different with the representative of the Udynea Empire.

So when they do arrive, Hamish is relieved the imperial prince, Darshan, is not the woman everyone expected. Until the man kisses him and Hamish is confronted by the very emotions he has been forced to conceal or be punished for. Emotions he is eager to explore.

But the kiss proves to be a little too public and leads his mother to take drastic measures to ensure Hamish adheres to her family vision. The contest of arms will force Hamish to make a choice: give up his happiness for convention’s sake or send the kingdom spiralling into civil war for the right to love his own way.

Excerpt

Darshan knocked back a few hearty swallows of his drink with barely the bat of an eye. The tankard slammed onto the counter, slopping more over the rim. “Alas, I think Daama might actually give me another of her clips over the ear if I tried to free her. She is a bit of a traditionalist.”

An odd expression took Darshan’s face. It was almost as if he spoke not of a slave, but of family, such as a cherished aunt or grandmother. Perhaps he did see her as such.

Hamish tapped on the handle of his tankard. His memories of his grandparents before the plague took them were dim, but he could imagine having a part of his family sent away without warning. The priests had done that when they’d cloistered his younger sister.

“I suppose there are also others who would react poorly to losing her,” Hamish murmured before drinking deeply. He peered at the ambassador out the corner of his eye, trying to gauge Darshan and finding the man favoured not reacting. “Children, maybe? It must be hard being so far away from your family.” The Udynean capital of Minamist was literally on the other side of the continent. He couldn’t imagine having such distance between him and home.

Darshan shook his head. “I have no children.” Chuckling, he scratched at the side of his nose with a thumb. “And what a bone of contention that is.”

“Your wife must be eager to remedy such an oversight.” Hamish knew without an ounce of doubt that he would already be a father if it wasn’t for the truth of what he’d have to do to turn that into a reality.

A weak, and slightly queasy, attempt at a smile stretched the man’s lips. He snatched up his tankard and mumbled into its depths, “Not married.”

“Oh?” The man was perhaps a little too pretty and foppish for Hamish’s tastes. And a little on the lean side, despite his protests at Nora pointing out the same thing at dinner last night.

“There is a very good reason for that.” Darshan set his mug on the counter and, giving a smirk, motioned him closer. “It is something of a secret.”

Intrigued, Hamish closed the already small distance between them. Amusement danced in the man’s eyes. Hazel. This close, the separate rings of brown and green in Darshan’s eyes were clear in the pub’s light, colours muddied only where they met and merged. That’s nae fair. Of course he would find the prettiest eyes belonging to a man he shouldn’t consider being alone with.

He also couldn’t help noticing the ring of black around the rim of Darshan’s eyes seemed slightly smudged in the inner corners, near where the glasses sat. Was it some sort of powder? The clans would sometimes plaster dyes and paints across their skin during war, but he had heard of men in foreign lands using such things in a more civil setting as fashion and tradition dictated.

The ambassador clapped a hand on Hamish’s shoulder, tearing his attention back into the present. “It goes a little something like this…” In one swift move, Darshan slid his fingers into Hamish’s hair and sealed their lips together.

There was no hesitation in the act, nor any forceful prying open of his mouth to invade with a tongue, just the bold press of his lips. There for a blissful moment then gone.

“Oh,” Hamish breathed. “I… er…” In all his years of fooling around, of rutting with strangers in the dark, he’d never met a man that forward.

Darshan returned to his drink, his face flushed by more than alcohol. His gaze slid back to Hamish as he drained the last of his drink. There was certainly something of an invitation lurking in that multi-coloured depth.

About the Author

Aldrea Alien is an award-winning, bisexual author of fantasy romance with varying heat levels.

Born and raised in New Zealand, she lives on a small farm with her family, including a menagerie of animals, who are all convinced they’re just as human as the next person.

Especially the cats. Since discovering a love of writing at the age of twelve, she hasn’t found an ounce of peace from the characters plaguing her mind with all of them clamouring for her to tell their story first.

Social Media 

Blog/Website | Facebook | Facebook Group | Twitter

Newsletter Sign-Up | Instagram | BookBub

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

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