Tag Archives: dark

Release Blitz: Rich Kids 1 & 2 Role Play by Quin&Perin

Rich Kids 1 & 2 Role Play | Quin&Perin

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Release Date: July 11, 2019 (Rich Kids 2)

Heat Rating: 5 flames

Length: 60,000 words/ 200 pages

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This is a roleplay by Quin&Perin. Please check the warning section inside the book.

“Rich Kids” features detailed adult m/m content

Blurb

Forbidden lust. Forbidden love.

My name is Nathaniel Preston. Second son of the Preston estate.

I’ve been raised to be perfect, to be ahead of every game, not to do wrong. Sem, my crass and vain older half-brother, is the complete opposite of me. All he seeks is his next high. To get there, he cheats, blackmails, and seduces.

Which wouldn’t be a problem, if one day he didn’t decide to tape me in a very compromising position…

Excerpt

PART 1

With a last drag on my cigarette, I pushed the door to the kitchen open. And once I did, silence broke. I could hear something. Sounds that sparked flames inside my gut, twitching to life. The kitchen’s old chimney was connected to the one on the upper level, the one in father’s bedroom.

I heard moans, grunts; I heard furniture move, scrape across the hardwood floor. Goosebumps spread across my skin, making me forget what I was here for. I put out my cigarette and tossed the rest of it into the sink. Someone was fucking in his house, in our father’s bedroom. I just had to find out who.

With a grin in place, I took off, back down the hallway, up the stairs. I used the railing to pull myself up faster. I felt like a child, so fucking excited that my mind raced to all kinds of options. Perhaps it was one of our maids or the gardener. But Jesus, in my father’s bed? That was quite bold. I loved it. So forbidden. So taboo. My favorite kind. I couldn’t stop grinning as I headed down the hallway to his bedroom. My heart thundered in my chest as my hand closed around the door handle. I counted to three, listening in on the lewd noises that were so much clearer now. So much louder. Unhinged. Like in a really dirty dream. Or a porno.

In one quick move, I yanked the tall door open, and my heart almost stopped. Jesus Fucking Christ. There were three men in the middle of the bed. Two blonds, lean, tanned, on either side of…Nate.

PART 2

I needed Nate, and he needed me.

To breathe, to stay somewhat sane. Which was funny because before we began seeing each other, we’d both been running around like headless chickens. Or cocks? Roosters. Anyway. Now, almost two years later, we’d settled into a routine. Something I thought I would hate. Routine. But with him, it was never predictable. Never boring. Nate kept me on my toes. Ever the brat I left behind. And while he’d begged me not to go and called me crazy for telling him to fuck other guys, I knew better. Nate was a cockslut. My cockslut, but one nonetheless. He would venture out eventually, most likely when we were fighting, which happened rather frequently. Then he’d fuck around and crawl back on his hands and knees when he was done — begging for forgiveness.

It was how he worked. How he functioned.

He loved sex, but he craved the control he could gain from it.

To hurt me. To make me mad. To be the hunter, not the prey.

So, I figured, I’d best give him rules, make it less taboo, a game we both played, before he could act out and destroy both of us in the process. He was allowed to fuck anyone if (1) he told me about it, (2) live streamed or recorded it, and (3) played safe. No one was going bare with him. No one.

QP_Profile copyAbout the Authors

As a pair of genre rebels, Quin and Perin—from the US and Germany—are constantly maneuvering time zones and plot bunnies to whip up Gay Novels.

Expect plenty of heat and elevated smut. With a dash of drama, a pinch of sweet, and a hefty amount of kink on the side, they serve up stories that will leave you full and satisfied.

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Release Blitz: Cold Light by Michelle Frost

Cold Light | Michelle Frost

Criminal Delights: Assassins

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Dark, MM, Romance, Assassins, Motorcycle Club

Release Date: 03.06.19

Universal Link: http://getbook.at/ColdLightCD

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Blurb

Being an assassin wasn’t something Lexington Campbell ever envisioned for himself, but after spending eight years doing just that, he’s prepared to take his place at the table of his father’s motorcycle club, The Iron Heretics.

Arden spends his nights dancing on stage at Spritz, one of St. Louis’s hottest night clubs, and waiting for Lex to pass back through town. After being orphaned young, he fears letting himself get too attached to the distant, bearded Lex, even after three years of inviting the man into his bed.

When Lex finds himself with a price on his head, he unknowingly pulls Arden into the darkness with him. When things aren’t what they seem, and enemies abound, will they find themselves still standing together in the cold light of day?

Warnings: attempted sexual assault, blood, graphic violence, morally dubious characters

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Excerpt

“Lex?” Arden’s voice was worried and he spun to find his lover at the bottom of the stairs looking adorably rumpled, with his blond hair sticking out every which way, and his long pale legs bare and sticking out of the bottom of one of Lex’s t-shirts.

A flare of panic lit in his chest, but he quickly extinguished it. He wouldn’t let prejudice or his father’s decade-old warning stop him from acknowledging Arden for exactly what he was: his. “Baby, this is Mace,” he pointed to Mace. “And…” he trailed off as he turned to the other men, all three of them staring at Arden like teenage boys at a wet t-shirt contest. “Hey,” he barked, voice deep and commanding. “Mind reeling in your tongues and introducing yourselves?”

Mace laughed beside him, setting the mugs on the table and walking over to Arden. Lex felt the tic in his jaw, but held himself in check, no matter how badly he wanted to walk over there and step between them. “You’ll have to forgive us,” Mace said, charm that Lex knew he wielded like a weapon in full effect. “We didn’t realize Lex had company. I’m Mace, taught your boy everything he knows. Well, everything interesting anyway.” He winked. “And those three are Larry, Moe, and Curly.” Arden’s eyes went wide, darting between Lex’s face and Mace’s. “I’m just shitting you. They’re Axel, Waylon, and Damon. And you are?”

“Arden,” he said holding out his hand for Mace to shake. Of course, shaking wasn’t enough and Mace lifted Arden’s hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss against his knuckles.

“Mace,” Lex ground out when he lingered over Arden’s fingers a little too long. Mace released him with a smug look at Lex, but took a step back. “Give us a minute, would you?” he asked Mace and the room at large. The other three were obviously used to Mace’s flair for the dramatic and had already moved to seat themselves around the table and were pouring cups of coffee. One of them—Axel, maybe—had Pip cradled in his lap. Mace turned back toward the table as well, giving them the illusion of privacy.

“Sorry,” Arden whispered when Lex stepped into his space.

Lex pressed a quick kiss to his lips to cut off that line of thought altogether. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about. This is our home and we’re not going to hide here. Although,” he glanced down at Arden’s beautifully muscled legs. “Maybe pants would be a good idea.”

Arden gave him a small smile. “I’m gonna run up and shower to get this,”—he pointed at his head—“under control. Then I’ll be back down.”

Arden disappeared back up the stairs, and Lex was glad no one was standing close enough to see the glimpse of his ass cheeks peeking out from the bottom of those lacy panties he liked to wear sometimes—and under his damned t-shirt too. The man was going to be the death of him. He discreetly adjusted himself before he turned back to the table and Mace lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Not one word,” he warned as he sat down in one of the empty chairs and pulled the coffee pot toward him. As he filled his cup, he kept his eyes on his task, but let his voice take on the low warning tone that would clearly imply exactly what he’d do to any of them if they treated Arden with anything less than respect. He needed to know now if he any of them had a problem with him being gay or Arden being…well, Arden. “If any of you feel like you need to get back on your bikes now that you know—”

“Lex,” Mace interrupted him. “The club’s changed a lot since you’ve been gone.” The corner of his mouth quirked up, undoubtedly remembering one of the numerous times the two of them had almost gotten caught with their pants around their ankles. “We’re Heretics. Non-conforming is kind of what we do.

About The Author

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Stories have always been Michelle Frost’s escape. Even as a kid, she can remember writing stories featuring her favorite cartoon characters. Now, her characters are a little more grown up, as are the stories she likes to tell. A self-proclaimed coffee addict and a bit of an introvert, she can most likely be found at any given time, on any given day with her hands on a keyboard or her nose in a book.

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Cover Reveal: Rise Of A Nobleman by Valentina C. Brin

Rise Of A Nobleman | Valentina C. Brin

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Cover Artist: Natasha Snow Design

Release Date: June 10, 2019

Heat Rating: 4 flames

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Blurb

London, 1680. For the young Charles Rochester, Marquess of Bolton and heir to the Duke of Norfolk, desiring another man is unacceptable. His fierce attraction to the new scullery boy must be suffocated at all cost. But it’s not easy to silence your heart when the people who should understand you end up betraying you, and the only one loyal seems to be the one you’re desperately trying to avoid.

But Dorian Pratt knows he’s hopelessly lost the second he first lays eyes on his new master. As a lowly servant, he understands he can never have him, but he can’t stop his body—and heart—from reacting to the dark, handsome nobleman.

When dangerous secrets hidden within the walls of Norfolk Manor come to light, everything collapses. Charles has only one hope for hanging onto Dorian, but to make it work he must be prepared to sacrifice the most valuable gift God has bestowed upon him: his very humanity.

Sins will not be forgiven and there’s always a price to pay when blood is spilled.

Warning: Due to some raw content of a violent nature which some may find upsetting, as well as the depiction of graphic sex between men, Rise of a Nobleman is recommended only for consenting adults.

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Excerpt

Charles was still standing in the doorway, arms at his sides, fists clenched. The semi-darkness was masking part of his face, rendering his expression inscrutable. But Charles was looking directly at him, that much Dorian saw clearly. Too clearly.

“What are you doing, standing there like an idiot?”

“Nothing, my Lord.” Just waiting for my heart to start beating again.

Since he couldn’t tell him he planned to wait as long as it took for Charles to stop staring at him, he had little choice but walk towards him. He did it with his head down again, because he honestly couldn’t bear being close to him, in range of that turbid, caustic essence lurking in his eyes.

“If you have no objections, I’d like to go to bed. It’s late and—”

Lord Bolton didn’t let him finish. He grabbed young Pratt’s arm and twisted it behind his back, shoving him against the door jamb.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he hissed in his ear. The depraved edge to his voice made Dorian’s heart rear up in his chest. Swollen with excitement and fear, it was pushing against his ribs, and he was suddenly at a complete loss. All he knew was that he was trapped, chest pressed against the wooden door frame, Lord Bolton’s hands finally all over him.

“I’ll teach you not to look at me like that,” Charles snarled through his hair before pushing it off his face. “Do you think I didn’t notice? The way you look at me when you think I’m not watching?”

Oh, God!

He had to get out of there. Slip out of his grip as soon as possible, before he lost control of his body. He was already feeling it in his groin—the fire Rochester had lit was already making his balls throb.

His reply was desperate, a whisper, a tiny, brazen lie: “You’re mistaken.”

“Oh, that’s how it is, then? You have the nerve to tell me it’s not true?” The next moment he felt something firm pressing against his buttocks. Something hot and shameless. Charles’s rock-hard erection.

Dorian’s lips parted in a surprised moan. The air escaped his lungs and treacherous arousal rose all the way to his throat, breaking his voice and his willpower.

“No…” I don’t know. “I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t spying on you on purpose.”

“But you did. You always do.”

About the Author

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Valentina C. Brin is a self-published Italian author who lives in Padua with her partner and their four pudgy cats. She enjoys writing both MM and MF books, especially angsty ones.

Powerful, dark, sexy stories are sort of her thing, and her psychology degree comes in handy for crafting twisted characters that never fail to surprise her many readers. Rise of a Nobleman is her debut novel and the first in her dark historical MM series.

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Release Blitz: Match Grade by G. B. Gordon

 

Match Grade | G. B. Gordon

Criminal Delights: Assassins

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Buy Links:

Amazon US | Amazon UK

Universal Link

Length: 156 pages

Cover Design: Natasha Snow

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Blurb

SOME MATCHES SPARK AN INFERNO

Eirik Haldurson is a hitman. Kidnapped at age five and cruelly trained by his captor, he is today one of the most sought-after contract killers alive.

Emotional distance from his targets, brutally beaten into him until it became second nature, is now the only way he can function. Lately though, that distance has started to elude him.

And when a Colombian drug cartel contracts Eirik to take out ex-soldier-turned-vigilante, Matt Moreno, distance is suddenly as close as heat to fire. And all hell breaks loose.

This book is part of CRIMINAL DELIGHTS. Each novel can be read as a standalone and contains a dark MM romance.

Warning: These books are for adult readers who enjoy stories where lines between right and wrong get blurry. High heat, twisted and tantalizing, these are not for the fainthearted.

Excerpt

Match Grade — high precision firearms, ammunition, or other devices suitable for a competitive match

CHAPTER ONE

If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.

-Sun Tzu

Eirik had been ready to close the contract yesterday, but no one should have to die in the rain. Today the sky was a bright blue, so the last thing the target would feel would be the sun on her face. Irrelevant.

He quickly checked his wardrobe in the mirror to make sure nothing was out of place. He’d picked the navy blue suit and coat. They were perfect to blend in with the hundreds of business people attending the conference. Or the thousands milling about on the plaza of the office building across the road. Ants. Point was, he would be neither well-dressed, nor shabby enough to be remembered by any one of them. Not to be remembered was the goal.

He pulled his shirt cuffs out below the hem of his jacket sleeves, then slipped his coat on and pocketed the microsyringe he’d filled earlier. The target would be walking across the plaza at 12:15. She was always on time. He liked that about her. There wasn’t much else he’d learned to like in the week he’d been studying her movements. She was pissy with baristas and servers, and never had the time of day for the porter in her building.

Focus. This wasn’t about likes; it was a contract, nothing personal.

Not liking her made it easier, though. Don’t think about targets as people. Gunnar’s cardinal rule. How was his brain always forgetting that?

He went over the plan in the elevator. Not because it was complicated or involved in any way, but simply because that was what he did. Good planning made for a smooth contract solution, and he liked smooth. Smooth kept him alive and out of prison.

As the doors opened, he assumed the slightly hunched posture that made his height less conspicuous, then melted into the crowd.

The lobby was packed with a busload of tourists hovering on small islands of luggage he maneuvered around, giving everyone as wide a berth as possible.

“Mr. Kennedy! Good morning! Mr. Kennedy?”

He was almost at the door before a tiny alarm went off in his brain and he remembered that he was Paul Kennedy this weekend, a trader from Butt-fuck, Indiana. Get with the program already, brain.

He turned back toward the reception desk with an apologetic smile and a tap against his temple. “Sorry, my mind was elsewhere.”

“No worries.” The receptionist handed him a note. “Your office called, Sir. They’re asking for a callback.”

“Thank you.” The office meant the client. And the client was not supposed to call the hotel unless it was an emergency. Eirik crumpled up the note and dropped it in his pocket as he got his phone out. There was a corner behind a planter, away from the tourists, that promised a little more quiet, and he made his way over as he dialled the number he’d memorized.

“Where the fuck are you?” the voice with the heavy Spanish accent said without greeting. “Is it done? What’s keeping you?”

“Having to call you back is keeping me,” he said quietly. “What’s the emergency?”

“Mierda. Call me immediately when you’re done.” The line went dead.

He inhaled a long breath, counted to ten, then slowly let it out. People who couldn’t stick to the plan were top of his shit-list. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything. Don’t get riled up. You have a job to do.

He checked his watch. 12:07. Eight minutes to rendezvous. He needed to get a move on. He wanted to be in place and have ample time to identify the target. There was a sweet spot just to the left of the plaza’s center where the stream of people was thickest between the planted area on the edge and the fountain in the middle. That was where he needed to be.

#

The sunshine was a welcome change from the raw, grey week that had led into October. And for once the Windy City was pleasantly calm. It meant he could choose his position without having to stay out of water spray. People would notice a man oblivious of getting soaked by a fountain. To be noticed meant to be remembered. You’re walking too tall, boy. An assassin has to be like a ghost–unseen and unheard.

Well, Gunnar was a ghost now. Eirik just wished his voice had died with the man. But it was always there, still as commanding now as it had been in life. Eirik was used to it reminding him of the technicalities of his job: trajectories, method, weather… Though lately it was displaying a disturbing fixation with Eirik’s frame of mind.

He kept his eyes on the entrance of the building over the rim of his phone. Standing with nothing to do would attract attention.

12:14–if she didn’t show today, he would try again tomorrow. Nope, there she was, hurrying across the plaza to the little cafe where she ate her lunch. Eirik kept the phone up and started walking.

Gunnar clutching at his throat with both hands as the blood spurted through his fingers.

The memory shockingly unexpected, and vivid enough to blind him. He shook his head like a man emerging from water to get rid of it.

Five steps to target. His free hand dove into his pocket and closed around the syringe, thumb on the shortened plunger. The microneedle barely registered with most people. She wouldn’t know anything was wrong until she was already sitting at her table, eating her lunch. And then it would be too late.

He walked straight into her. “Oh Jesus, I’m so sorry.” Both arms out to catch her, needle into the meaty part of the arm.

The boy losing his grip on the grocery bag when the shot rang out, oranges rolling everywhere. The father dropping to his knees, a red mark like a third eye between his brows, the back of the head disintegrating in a spray of debris.

“…you’re going, you dumb ox!” Her shrill insult brought him back. Shit, he couldn’t deal with memory flashes now. He needed his eyes and ears in the present, not the past.

“Sorry again. That was entirely my fault.”

You have to pay more attention, Rikki. Don’t read and walk at the same time.

Eirik barely stopped himself from clapping his hands over his ears to keep his mother’s voice out. More ghosts. But this one was more recent. And much more distracting. He didn’t have to fake his confusion, or how shaken he was.

“You’re darn right it was.” She shrugged his hands off and took a step away. “One of these days those stupid phones are going to kill someone.”

One of these days? He didn’t say that, though. Stood there, contrite without commenting. Without looking back at her. Trying to will his brain into compliance.

Finally she turned away. She would remember him, but it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t be around to answer questions.

He watched her enter the cafe, then pocketed his phone and the tiny syringe that was perfectly invisible in his palm.

His hand was shaking.

Why the fuck was his hand shaking?

With a glance around he assured himself that no one else was watching, then strode to the other end of the plaza. And further. He couldn’t remember where he’d planned to go after. All he could do was walk, walk away from the ghosts of the past, the shaking hands.

Like a wounded animal, he was looking for a cave to hide out in until he was better. Because he would get better. Right?

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About the Author

G.B.Gordon worked as a packer, landscaper, waiter, and coach before going back to school to major in linguistics and, at 35, switch to less backbreaking monetary pursuits like translating, editing, and writing.

Having lived in various parts of the world, Gordon is now happily ensconced in suburban Ontario with the best of all husbands.

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Release Blitz: The Alpha Solution by N.J. Lysk

The Alpha Solution | N.J. Lysk

Deep in the Dark #4

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Published: April 30th, 2019

Genre: MM, taboo, mPreg, dark

Length: 95 pages

Buy Links

Amazon | Amazon UK
Amazon CA | Amazon AU

Blurb

When Junen’s father, alpha of his pack, rejects the offer to join forces with a dangerous alpha, plan b is to take Junen and force his hand that way.

He is not worried… until he understands the alpha plans to do a lot more to him than keep him prisoner and demand surrender.

Because Theon has a plan to save werewolves and he will do anything to ensure it succeeds, including taking everything Junen has—in body and soul.

Warning Note: A Dark mPreg tale featuring kidnapping, body modification, non-con, manipulation, fisting, and brainwashing of a straight alpha forced to submit to other alphas. This is not a romance.

About the Author

N.J. Lysk – compulsive reader of all things queer, allergic to silver, and meat eater extraordinaire–decided to write so the werewolves wouldn’t eat their brain (metaphorically, they aren’t zombies!)

With a genuine allergy to silver, a preference for werewolves was always a given, but it wasn’t until the wonderful world of alphas and omegas that inspiration struck. The hockey players sneaked in from fandom, as usual.

N.J. likes British English, Earl Grey tea, werewolves, polyamory, hockey, social commentary, and power dynamics (ok, and a lot of sex! 😉), but can’t stand misused homophones, predictable plots, gender binaries and stereotypes.

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Blog Tour: Sweating Lies by Emma Jaye

Sweating Lies | Emma Jaye

Lies #1

Criminal Delights: Taken

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Publisher: Purindoors Publications

Cover Artist: Natasha Snow

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 81,000 words

Release Date: April 28, 2019

Buy Links:

Available on Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US | Amazon UK

Amazon CA | Amazon DE

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Blurb

“Gladiator or toy?” Kaspar asks, as if it’s the easiest choice in the world.

It might be an easy answer for someone branded, brainwashed, and who remembers no other life. But that’s not me, not yet anyway. I’m a cop—or at least I was until my cover got blown.

Now, I’m one of the trafficked people I vowed to save.

Kaspar’s a toy —a pleasure slave— content to warm our sadistic owner’s bed; he laps up the abuse he’s conditioned to associate with affection.

He’s my only way out. To gain our freedom, I must play the hardest undercover role of my career and be everything his fractured mind needs: a more controlling bastard than the man who turns people into grateful slaves for a living.

Officer Jiao Sweatt thinks I’m a victim.
He has a lot to learn.
And it’ll hurt.

This book is part of CRIMINAL DELIGHTS. Each novel can be read as a standalone and contains a dark MM romance.

Warning: These books are for adult readers who enjoy stories where lines between right and wrong get blurry. High heat, twisted and tantalizing, these are not for the fainthearted.

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Excerpt

He accepted, absorbed, and floated in the serenity of obedience. His physical pain became walled up in a corner of his mind. The only thing that mattered was his master’s will.

“Fuck, I didn’t see you down there. Why didn’t you say something?”

“It’s not my place to disturb my master.”

Jiao frowned. “Don’t call me that. I’m nobody’s master, and you’re nobody’s slave, Kaspar. Come on, up you get. You don’t have to kneel to me.”

Kaspar didn’t move. He didn’t know if he could get up, but they needed to establish something first.

“I do have a master, and right now, it’s you.” He handed Officer Sweatt the Chorbaji’s note. He hoped Officer Sweatt wouldn’t mind that it was a little damp and crumpled from being in his hand all this time.

Jiao glanced at it and scowled. “Well then, as your master, I order you not to kneel to me.”

Kaspar didn’t resist smiling. A pet’s duty was to adapt to his master’s needs. Officer Sweatt clearly liked teasing, playfulness, that he could do.

“That’s going to make blow jobs a little uncomfortable, but–”

“You don’t have to do that either; now get up and talk to me like a man.”

“Can’t men kneel?”

“Just get up, will you? You make me feel uncomfortable.”

That got him moving. Making your master uncomfortable, unless it was to entice him to pleasure, was not good pet behavior. He tried for his normal graceful, hands-free stand, but ended up on his ass; his sore, bruised, battered, and cut ass. Rolling to his side he sucked in a breath, trying to contain the bright flare of pain while expected a kick for his lack of grace.

“Shit, how long were you down there? Never mind.”

With surprising strength, his new master lifted him to his feet, one hand on his bicep, one across his chest, under the brands, and helped him limp across to the bed. He climbed up and lay on his side, head resting on one fist while he balanced himself with the other in front of him. He hoped he looked at least a little enticing. Flirty and playful, that’s what had put a smile on his new master’s face in the gym.

“You’ve been on a drip.” Jiao nodded toward the small cotton ball taped to his inner arm.

“Not a lot gets past you, does it, Ma–” he paused at Jiao’s frown. “Well, what would you like me to call you? Sir? Officer Sweatt? Chief? Boss? Please, don’t say Daddy, anything but–”

“Would you shut up?”

Kaspar’s mouth snapped shut. At least he’d got him to give an order.

A hand pushed through the inky black hair. “Look, Jiao is fine. I got called ‘Sweaty’ enough as a kid never want to hear ‘Sweatt’ again.”

Kaspar frowned. “I’d never call you that, and your first name hardly seems respectful. I–”

“This is important to you, isn’t it?”

Kaspar’s frown deepened. Understanding this new master was a challenge. “Of course it is. The higher the status of my mas–” he paused, grinning “–special friend, the higher I–.”

As he spoke, his new master grabbed a bathrobe from the back of the bathroom door and draped it over him.

Humiliation hammered. He dropped his forehead to the mattress. He was useless, unworthy, and unwanted. He disgusted this man he had been instructed to please. His failures swirled and thickened in his mind like fog.

You deserved what Azur did to you; he should have finished it. Put you down like a useless old dog.

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About the Author

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I have a reputation for writing dark, angst filled stories in a swathe of genres, from Sci-fi and paranormal, to contemporary romance and erotica with m/f, m/m and multiple partners.

I blame my rebellious muse (who looks like Chris from the Paint Series) for the erotic aspects tickling the angst, and the humour cuddling up with the erotic. You’ll find all this and more in my books! No matter the genre, I can promise different characters, dark themes, steamin’ sex, laughs and a HEA or HFN.

When I’m not writing or reading, in leafy Sussex, England, I herd Birman cats and sons. Both groups argue that the other is too large.

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Review Tour: Wrong Way Home by K.A. Merikan

Wrong Way Home | K.A. Merikan

Criminal Delights: Taken

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Buy Links:

Amazon US | Amazon UK

Universal Link

Exclusive to Amazon and Available to Borrow with Kindle Unlimited

Length: 70,000 words approx.

Heat level: Scorching hot, emotional, explicit scenes

Cover Design: Natasha Snow

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Blurb

— ONE WRONG TURN. ONE RIGHT MAN. —

Colin. Rule-follower. Future doctor. Witness to murder. Captive.

Taron. Survivalist. Mute. Murderer. Captor.

Like every other weekend, Colin is on his way home from university, but he’s taunted by the notion that he never takes risks in life and always follows the beaten path. On impulse, he decides to take a different route. Just this one time. What he doesn’t realize is that it’s the last time he has a choice.

He ends up taking a detour into the darkest pit of horror, abducted by a silent, imposing man with a blood-stained axe. But what seems like his worst nightmare might just prove to be a path to the kind of freedom Colin never knew existed.

Taron has lived alone for years. His land, his rules. He’d given up on company long ago. After all, attachment is a liability. He deals with his problems on his own, but the night he needs to dispose of an enemy, he ends up with a witness to his crime.

The last thing Taron needs is a nuisance of a captive. Colin doesn’t deserve death for setting foot on Taron’s land, but keeping him isn’t optimal either. It’s only when he finds out the city boy is gay that an altogether different option arises.

One that isn’t right, yet tempts him every time Colin’s pretty eyes glare at him from the cage.

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***

“When Taron looped the heavy metal collar around the slender neck and closed the padlock, his body throbbed with the excitement of knowing he owned this boy.
Was it wrong? Yes, yes it was.
Was it so, so good? Definitely.”

This book is part of CRIMINAL DELIGHTS. Each novel can be read as a standalone and contains a dark MM romance.

Warning: These books are for adult readers who enjoy stories where lines between right and wrong get blurry. High heat, twisted and tantalizing, these are not for the fainthearted.

About The Authors

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K.A. Merikan are a team of writers who try not to suck at adulting, with some success. Always eager to explore the murky waters of the weird and wonderful, K.A. Merikan don’t follow fixed formulas and want each of their books to be a surprise for those who choose to hop on for the ride.

K.A. Merikan have a few sweeter M/M romances as well, but they specialize in the dark, dirty, and dangerous side of M/M, full of bikers, bad boys, Mafiosi, and scorching hot romance.

FACEBOOK PROFILE

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PINTEREST

M/F ROMANCE BY MISS MERIKAN


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