Tag Archives: demisexual MC

Blog Tour: Real Hazard by Elle Keaton

Real Hazard | Elle Keaton

West Coast Forensics #4

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Release Date: August 25th, 2022

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Blurb

Foster Jennings

Things I love

✓ my kid sister

✓ the no-hope dogs I rehabilitate

✓ my job as an EMT

✓ and maybe my new friend Dutch.

But Dutch isn’t gay and physical attraction isn’t something I feel often. Are these feelings real, or am I just tired of being alone?

Dutch Hansen

This is all Hazel’s fault. Hazel the Hazard.

✓ Hazel made me come to first grade safety day.

✓ Hazel blurted out—loudly—about the beautiful fireman.

✓ Hazel invited the beautiful fireman over for a tea party.

I swear I’m not gay, but Foster Jennings is the most beautiful man I’ve ever met, outside and in.

Dutch Hansen is the single dad of a precocious daughter. He moved to Piedras wanting a better life for Hazel and himself. Things are shaping up, he’s landed a permanent job at Brooch Resort and Hazel has quit having nightmares that someone is going to steal her away.

Then everything goes sideways, Dutch’s past threatens his future and he doesn’t know where to turn.

Something is wrong, Dutch is pushing him away and won’t tell Foster why.

When Hazel goes missing Dutch can’t hide anymore, he needs his… Foster to help him get Hazel back.

Book four in the West Coast Forensics series, can be read as a standalone but may be more fully enjoyed if you start with Real Trouble.

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Excerpt

Before he could form a reply, a whirlwind in the form of a barely four-foot-tall girl raced from the auditorium onto the stage. Messy dark-blond hair escaped ties someone had wrapped around her uneven braids. Maybe she did her own hair? Foster remembered when Becca had insisted she would brush and braid her hair. There were a couple years of hilarious school pictures tucked in a photo album at home.

“Daddy says I have to apologize for saying my thoughts out loud. He says there are thoughts that sometimes should stay in my head.” She stopped in front of him. Her hands were curled into fists on her hips, and her eyes blazed as if she dared him to agree with her father.

“Hazel,” both Larch and the dad said in tandem.

Hazel turned her glare to the two adults trying to actively oppress her and then back to Foster.

Foster had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. This must be the student who’d called him pretty. “It’s okay. I accept your apology.” He glanced over at the dad. Hazel resembled her father, but where Hazel had a head full of hair, the dad had none. But, Foster thought, the guy was lucky: he had a nicely shaped head, so being bald worked for him.

“You are pretty, though.” Obviously, Hazel was one of those who liked to have the last word. “And I don’t know why I have to apologize for being nice.”

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About the Author

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Elle Keaton writes contemporary gay romance and MM romantic suspense set in the Pacific Northwest. Elle’s books are known for their hot mm romance, complex characters, and unique sense of place. The men start out broken, and maybe they’re still banged up by the end, but they always find the other half of their hearts.

Elle published first in 2017, now she has over seventeen books available for you to read or listen to.

She loves cats and dogs, Star Wars and Star Trek, pineapple on pizza, and is known to start crossword puzzles with ballpoint pen.

Love always wins, thank you for supporting this indie author!

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Website: https://www.ellekeaton.com/

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Giveaway

To celebrate the release of Real Hazard, we’re giving away an e-set of the West Coast Forensics Series so far (foue eBooks)

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Blog Tour: I Am Not Your Chosen One by Evelyn Benvie

I Am Not Your Chosen One | Evelyn Benvie

Not Your Chosen One #1

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Release Date: June 14th, 2022

Publisher: Mischief Corner Books

Cover Artist: Natasha Snow

Heat Rating: 1 flame

Length: 102,000 words

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IKell Hồ Sinh Porter is twenty-six years old and desperate to leave his unhappy life and his dead-end town. One night his wish is granted by a mysterious voice—though not in any way he would’ve imagined—and he finds himself in the semi-magical land of Allune where everyone thinks he’s the “Chosen One.”

Kell politely disagrees, and absconds from his duties. On the search for an adventure that doesn’t come with world-saving responsibility attached, he’s joined by companions. Every adventurer needs them, but his turn out to be Ansel, a sheltered fallen angel, and Fre, a half-orlk who wants to be a hero.

Destiny, bad luck, and the gods conspire against him. The Dawn Goddess wants him to take up his Chosen One mantle, which Kell is sure means becoming cannon fodder in an ancient divine war. The Lich King’s demonic minions carry out sporadic attacks in an attempt to kill him and prove he is not the Chosen One.

Temperamental elves, talking stars that aren’t all that helpful, image-conscious demons, maddening pieces of prophecy that everyone thinks Kell should already know, and his growing feelings for Ansel all mix in a frustrating stew as Kell tries to juggle his feelings, his duties, and all the things trying to kill him.

No one asked him if he wanted to be anyone’s Chosen One, and he can’t begin to understand why he was chosen. Kell needs to figure out who to trust and how to forge his own path before it’s too late for Allune and for him.

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Excerpt

Kell woke up slowly. Awareness filtered back to him in pieces. Rough wood under his palms. The warmth of the sun on his skin. The low, tumbling murmur of gathered people. Something weighing hot and heavy against his ribcage. The scent of fresh baking and old sweat mixing on his tongue. He wrinkled his nose and blinked his eyes open.

He was lying on a platform near the middle of town, judging by the smell and the noise. That wasn’t necessarily troubling in and of itself. But the sky …

It was blue, yes, and the sun was midmorning high and bright enough to make his eyes water. But there were stars speckling the sky all above him, little pink pinpricks of light dusting what should have been a solid-blue backdrop. Kell stared at them hard for a long moment, then closed his eyes again.

Weren’t dreams supposed to end when you woke up? What was this, a dream within a dream?

Whatever it was, he didn’t feel up to dealing with it right now.

Apparently the world wasn’t going to give him a choice. Someone nudged at his leg, gently at first but with increasing insistence.

Someone, Kell thought, with perhaps an edge of bubbling hysteria, or something. He giggled a little, biting his lip to keep the sound in. God, what is with me?

Maybe he had heat stroke. It was unusually warm out now for only being March.

What had happened last night? Fuck it. He didn’t remember getting drunk enough to pass out in the middle of the street. He didn’t remember planning on drinking at all.

A throat cleared above him, polite but impatient. Oh, well. Time for him to get up anyway before he got cited for public drunkenness or whatever. Kell made an effort to lift his head, but it was hard, and he was tired, and staying here a little longer couldn’t hurt, right?

Was public drunkenness even a real crime?

“Oh for the love of Skuache …” someone muttered, and then Kell found himself being gripped firmly on either side and hauled upwards. He let out a yelp of surprise, flailing around as strong arms did their best to hold him steady. The world spun as he opened his eyes, and it took a moment to get his feet under him. He staggered a bit, keeping his eyes trained on his feet for balance until he felt he wouldn’t fall over at any moment. Not that his rescuers had any intention of letting him go any time soon, with the way they held onto his arms just this side of too tight.

Shouldn’t have wished for the cops last night if this is where it gets me.

“Really, goddess,” the person continued to mutter. They sounded close. And important in a kind of college professor way. The kind used to lecturing and looking down on failing students. Kell dubbed him Professor Throat Clearer and entertained a brief image of a stuffy man in tweed giving lectures on how to properly interrupt conversation with discreet noises. It sounded like a fun class. Kell would have taken it.

“I have faith in your efforts, I truly do,” Professor Throat Clearer continued, speaking low and to himself. “But I swear, these Chosen get worse every time.”

About the Author

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Evelyn Benvie is the wooly jumper in a family of black sheep. Both a cynic and a romantic at heart, she writes diverse poetry and queer-positive spec-fiction with strong characters, quirky romances, and (almost always) happy endings.

Sometimes she’ll try to be funny, to varying results.

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Release Blitz: Only for Ollie by Lisa Henry

Only for Ollie | Lisa Henry

Star Crossed #3

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Release Date: March 4th, 2022

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Xander Finch is a top-ranked MotoGP rider, desperate to get back to the circuit after an injury. He’s going stir-crazy in his parents’ house in Ventura while he works on his recovery. Xander has tunnel vision when it comes to his sport—it’s all he’s ever wanted to do in life. When he hires a massage therapist to help speed up his recovery, he’s not expecting the guy to completely flip his universe on its head.

Ollie Baker is living in his car after a disastrous break-up, and jumps at the chance to earn some extra cash through massage. Xander Finch might be hot as hell, but Ollie’s not going there. He’s never going to let some rich guy screw him over again. Besides, Xander’s straight. Isn’t he?

When their friendship deepens into something more, Xander discovers that Ollie makes him feel a way that nobody ever has before, and maybe motorbikes aren’t his only passion after all. Navigating Xander’s newly discovered demisexuality isn’t the only challenge they’ll have to face if they’re going to be together, because Ollie’s been burned before. It’s hard for him to trust Xander, to believe that he’s really willing to make room in his life for Ollie as well as his racing—assuming he recovers enough to race at all.

Only for Ollie is the third book in the Star Crossed series, where regular guys meet famous ones, and sparks fly.

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Ollie hefted the table through to what turned out to be a beautiful patio area between the house and the pool. Like inside the house, its Instagram-worthy appeal had been tarnished by the fact that real people lived here

Mismatched towels hung over the back of a sun lounger, a pair of fantastically ugly garden gnomes looked completely out of place huddled around the base of a large succulent, and there was a small mountain of discarded footwear by the door itself.

Ollie fought with the table for a moment, and then a moment longer because he really had no idea what he was doing, and finally stood back and eyed the thing dubiously, hoping it wouldn’t collapse like a shaky house of cards when the client got on it. He stepped forward and poked it, just to test it. Then he leaned on it, gradually letting it take his weight. It stayed upright, which he felt was a positive. Things were looking up!

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” someone asked gruffly from the glass door.

Ollie spun around, startled, and found himself staring at a hot guy in a moonboot. The hot guy was taller than him—wasn’t everyone?—though he was slouching a little because of his elbow crutches. Apart from the obvious injury, he looked like he was in great shape. The muscles in his forearms corded in very interesting ways as he moved out onto the patio, tapping his way with his crutches. He was in his early thirties, maybe, with scruffy dark blond hair that looked as though it had all been buzzed at one point, but was now just long enough that it was beginning to curl. The softness of those curls was very much offset by the thin line of his mouth and the set of his jaw. There was a pinched line between his eyebrows that hinted at stress and pain. His eyes were the same green-blue as the view of the ocean from the Ventura Pier on a cloudless summer’s day.

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” Ollie lied. “But I’m just going to test it before you get up here, okay?”

He was relieved to see the guy’s mouth twitch.

Ollie climbed up onto the table on his hands and knees and wriggled a bit to make sure it was stable. And then realized how weird that probably looked. He hoped that lady from before wasn’t watching because she’d definitely think he was a sex worker now. Possibly not a very good one, but still.

“Okay,” he said brightly, climbing down again. “Hi, I’m Oliver, but most people call me Ollie. You must be Xander.”

“Hi,” Xander said with his mouth but not with his eyes.

“You look familiar,” Ollie said. “Are you—”

“No, I’m not,” Xander said. “And no, I can’t get you tickets or an autograph.”

He blinked. “What?”

“I’m not Zane.”

“What?” Ollie asked again.

Xander looked at him with his head on an angle, as though he was assessing something. “Zane Finch.”


“Uh-huh,” Ollie said vaguely, trying not to stare at Xander’s collarbones and failing. He had a thing for collarbones, and Xander’s were the sort that made his fingers itch to reach out and touch. They made other places tingle too, and he was having difficulty focusing on Xander’s words, and not on his collarbones, his throat, or the way his mouth moved when he spoke. He became aware that Xander was looking at him expectantly, waiting for more of a response, and he tried frantically to remember what name he’d just said, but no, it was gone. “Um, okay?”

Xander snorted. “Okay.”


Okay, so that sounded a little bitter, or maybe that was just Xander’s tone. And face. And entire personality. Maria had definitely been right about the murdery thing, but Ollie was willing to overlook it because of all the hotness. He shook himself awake from his fantasies of gorgeously defined collarbones and forced himself to meet Xander’s gaze instead. In terms of getting a hold of himself, it may have been a tactical mistake because Xander’s ocean eyes were mesmerizing.

He blinked himself back from the edge of catatonia and reminded himself he had a job to do. “Anyway it’s nice to meet you. Why don’t you get up on the table and I can get started on those shoulders, and while I’m working on you, you can tell me about yourself.”

Xander looked at his crutches and looked at the table.

“How about shirt off, but you can keep the track pants on?” Ollie crouched down and unzipped his backpack, then pulled a sheet out. This one didn’t say Hot Touch in neon pink. This one said Hot Touch in black. The sheet itself was neon pink. How that was supposed to be relaxing, he had no idea. He shook it out over the table. “Get as close as you can to the table, and then I’ll take your crutches and give you a hand.”

Xander grunted and shuffled toward the table. When he got to it, he leaned one elbow crutch against it and reached over his shoulder with his free hand to tug at his shirt.

“Um,” Ollie said, because there was something pitiful about watching a grown man get stuck in a T-shirt. “Let me help you there.”

Xander grunted again, muscles tense as Ollie hurried to help him draw the T-shirt over his head. Together, they ended up with it hanging from the elbow still attached to a crutch. Xander’s lip curled, and he swapped crutches, every movement painstakingly slow—and, Ollie was pretty sure from the way he moved, painful as well.
“This isn’t gonna work,” Xander said, staring at the table. “I can’t—”

The way he bit the words off, Ollie figured he wasn’t someone who was used to having to admit to any limitations.

“Okay,” he said brightly. “Tell you what. You just sit up there, and I’ll massage your shoulders and your neck. We won’t try to get you on your stomach straightaway.”

Xander gave him a look like he was about to refuse, but then he nodded abruptly. “Okay. We can try that.”

His biceps bulged, and the muscles in his neck and forearms corded as he levered himself up onto the table. A thin sheen of sweat covered his back, and Ollie wondered just how much pain he was in, and if he’d tell him when he asked.

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Not Until Noah

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Carter Westlake is on the brink of being Hollywood gold. Cast as the lead in a highly-anticipated sci-fi trilogy filming in Australia, he’s primed to be the next A-list action hero: all-American, hot as hell, and straight. The problem is, Carter can only check off two of those boxes. But that’s okay—his bisexuality can remain a secret until these movies are behind him.

Childhood educator Noah Jones has a plan. Work as a nanny for six months, make some extra cash, and move to the UK to teach. He doesn’t expect his new boss to be a Hollywood star. And he certainly isn’t prepared to fall for the guy.

One kiss sends them tumbling into a secret relationship, even though they both agree it can be nothing more than a fling. Carter needs to stay in the closet for the sake of his career, and Noah’s leaving. But when their feelings continue to grow into something deeper, Carter has a decision to make. Knowing that exposing his sexuality could cost him his career, would he rather carry on living a lie, or risk it all to stand tall in his truth?

Not Until Noah is the first book in the Star Crossed series, where regular guys meet famous ones, and sparks fly.

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About The Author

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Lisa likes to tell stories, mostly with hot guys and happily ever afters.

Lisa lives in tropical North Queensland, Australia. She doesn’t know why, because she hates the heat, but she suspects she’s too lazy to move. She spends half her time slaving away as a government minion, and the other half plotting her escape.

She attended university at sixteen, not because she was a child prodigy or anything, but because of a mix-up between international school systems early in life. She studied History and English, neither of them very thoroughly.

She shares her house with too many cats, a dog, a green tree frog that swims in the toilet, and as many possums as can break in every night. This is not how she imagined life as a grown-up.

Lisa has been published since 2012, and was a LAMBDA finalist for her quirky, awkward coming-of-age romance Adulting 101, and a Rainbow Awards finalist for 2019’s Anhaga.

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Website | Facebook | Instagram | Goodreads | Bookbub | TwitterLisa Henry’s Hangout

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Giveaway

To celebrate the release of Only for Ollie, Lisa is giving away a $20 Amazon Gift Card

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