Tag Archives: forbidden love

Release Blitz: The Lowest Realm by Amy-Alex Campbell

The Lowest Realm | Amy-Alex Campbell

The Miscreant #1

Publisher: AAC Publishing

Cover Artist: Warren Design

Release Date: November 9, 2019

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length: 103,831 words/368 pages

It is a standalone story, although there will be more books.

Buy Links

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon AU

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Paperback also available from:

Buy directly from the author’s website

There is a Paypal button there that includes book price + shipping.

Angus & Robertson

 

Blurb

Life on an offshore oil rig is grueling hard work. For Nika the hard work, isolation and discipline is ideal.

On the eve of flying back to the mainland for a two week break, disaster strikes, and Nika is thrown into darkness.

When he awakes in a strange world, with no memory of his past, he finds himself in the presence of monks, who offer to help, on one condition. Nika must deliver an urgent message to the king, and in return, the mysterious monks will help him recall his memories and find a way home.

Instead, Nika is sent on a long journey with his new friend Freyne, and the spoilt Princess Iryna, to fulfill a prophecy that will restore balance to the world.

Nika must adjust to more than just a new world; as his body undergoes a transformation he does not understand, he must also deal with being hunted, forbidden love, mancery, and gods he’s never heard of.

Excerpt

The sound of a gunshot pierced the night, followed by a loud scream. Nika cowered in the linen closet, trying not to make any noise. He could see shadows flickering in the light under the door, and could hear yelling.

“I’m asking you one last time, Monique. Where’s our money, bitch?” Someone demanded, and Nika heard a loud slap and a hiss.

“I told you, we don’t get paid until tomorrow,” Nika’s mother spat back.

“We’re going to need some collateral,” A man said angrily. “Let’s get her kid.”

“Nickolai!” She screeched, but Nika didn’t move.

He heard some heavy footsteps rush past the closet, followed by the sound of his bedroom door being forced open. He opened the closet door a crack, and could see the bad men in his bedroom, looking for him.

Nika dashed from the closet and ran past his mother as fast as his little legs could carry him. She sat slumped over the coffee table; white powder and needles were scattered amongst empty beer cans. Blood was oozing from the bullet wound in her shoulder.

Nika could hear the bad men shouting behind him. He pulled open the kitchen door and ran into the darkness, and found a place to hide.

There was more yelling, then the house went quiet. Nika watched as the bad men ran from the house, climbed into a car and sped off down the street. Thick black smoke started billowing from the house, and he felt the panic rising from his belly and into his chest. He didn’t know what to do, he felt like he was going to cry.

Nika heard the shatter of glass, and looked to see flames erupting from his bedroom window. He watched with dismay; although he had very few toys and possessions, they were all he had.

His eyes swept back to the door, as his mother staggered from the burning house and into the driveway. Nika took another nervous look around, before leaving his hiding place, and ran back towards her.

She sank to her knees, and Nika watched as she fell to the ground. Her skin was turning blue, and she started convulsing on the ground.

“Mother?” Nika asked, shaking her shoulder gently.

Nika felt sick; she was making gurgling noises, and he didn’t know how to help her. He knew that if his father came home at any time, Nika would be blamed and beaten half to death.

He could hear sirens in the distance, and soon a convoy of emergency vehicles sped up the road, coming to a stop at the burning house. His mother had gone still, and Nika found himself shaking her, but she wouldn’t wake.

Nika’s seven year old mind couldn’t comprehend what was going on. He felt no love towards his parents; his father constantly beat him, and his mother never made him stop. And yet Nika was afraid to lose them, he didn’t know who would look after him, or where he would go.

A lady in a uniform drew Nika away and wrapped him in a blanket, as firemen started to spray water on the house. He was confused and terrified. He tried not to cry, but the tears fell. The lady put out her arm, and Nika cowered, expecting to be beaten for crying like a girl.

“Hey, it’s ok little buddy, I’m not going to hurt you,” she said. “Is there anyone else still in the house?”

Nika shook his head, unable to speak.

“Come on, you can sit in the big ambulance, and I’m going to check that you’re ok. Is that alright with you?”

Nika nodded, and followed the nice ambulance lady. He took one last look at his mother, and could see policemen rolling out blue and white checkered tape around the house. The fire was almost out, and a man in a suit was walking towards her with a camera and toolbox.

She lay on the ground, not moving. Her limbs had spasmed into unnatural angles, and her face was blue, her eyes wide open with a terrifying expression etched into her gaunt face. Nika felt the image burn into his brain, and knew he would never forget that sight for as long as he lived.

About the Author

Amy-Alex Campbell has been an avid reader and writer from a very young age. At just nine years old, she was writing short stories and poetry at a high standard.

At the age of 17, she began world building and writing Death of Thy World. However, after writing a captivating prologue and first chapter, she felt that the story was going to be like any other novel – hero gets the princess and lives happily ever after.

Amy-Alex is anything but cliche, and shelved the project.

Seventeen years later, in April 2019, she revisited the work after reading a meme on social media that reignited her muse. Amy-Alex picked up the proverbial pen, and started writing.

On July 20, The Lowest Realm was completed. With new plot lines and title, the book received positive reviews from beta readers.

The Lowest Realm will be launched on November 9, 2019.

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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

Buy Links

Available on Kindle Unlimited

Rich Kids 1 – 99c for a limited time

Rich Kids 2

Add on Goodreads

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: Rise Of A Nobleman by Valentina C. Brin

Rise of a Nobleman | Valentina C. Brin

Possession #1

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Cover Artist: Natasha Snow Design

Release Date: June 10, 2019

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 113,800 words/352 pages

Buy Links

Available on Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  https://amzn.to/2I4OGQx

Amazon UK  https://amzn.to/2IviJQ9

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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

“If there’s some problem, well, I can—”

“You’re the problem,” he interrupted, looking into those eyes as pure as spring water. Suddenly he found himself unable to hold back. The truth crashed through the barriers Charles had tried to reinforce, taking shape word by word. He spoke with a broken, ravaged voice, his heart on his sleeve for once. “Your presence makes me nervous. You turn me into something I’m not. If you only knew the way I think about you, you’d take off running and never stop instead of hovering around me, robbing me of peace.”

He pulled away from the table, reducing the already minimal distance between them, but the servant stumbled backed in alarm.

“My Lord…”

“May I touch you?”

Stunned, Dorian stared at him. He kept backing up until he bumped into an antique oakwood highboy. He barely suppressed an expletive, but Charles caught the unpronounced word on his lips—lips the boy was biting in an effort to hold back.

God, Charles wanted to bite those lips so badly.

“Say yes. Let me touch you,” he continued, taking advantage of the moment to approach the scullery boy. His enormous limpid eyes filled with panic, but the temptation flickering in them was stronger, making them fluid, honest. Brimming with desire.

A nod of agreement, lips parting as he released a sigh, and there was what Charles had been wanting—his complete surrender. Do what you want.

And he did.

He plunged his fingers into the boy’s thick hair. He took hold of it, running his fingers through it, then grabbed as much as he could in both hands and began slowly pulling to make Dorian look up at him.

He studied everything there was to see: his long lashes, the delicate curve of his nose, his irises behind half-closed lids that couldn’t help but look straight back at him. And those lips that were seemingly designed to drive him mad.

His fingers longed to touch them, but the courage wasn’t there. Instead, he started gradually, from a safe distance—he began stroking his forehead, slowly making his way down, tracing the curve of his cheek until he got to his jaw. He still didn’t have the audacity to actually touch those lips, but he sure as hell looked! His eyes were glued to that half-opened mouth, pink and impertinent, and that tongue hiding behind a row of even teeth.

“My Lord…”

“Quiet,” he mumbled, stomach in knots. “Don’t talk or you’ll spoil everything.”

Mercifully he shut up. He stood there helpless in Charles’s hands as the marquess finally did what he’d been wanting to do ever since that unbearable longing had first reared its ugly head—he brushed his thumb against the boy’s lower lip, then the upper one.

Saliva moistened his fingertip and Charles wiped the excess away on the servant’s skin. But that was only the beginning. His index finger, so close to the target, slipped in between his parted teeth, sliding over his moist tongue, ending up in the torrid embrace of a scorching breath.

And still that wasn’t enough.

His middle and ring fingers slid into Dorian’s mouth. Charles pushed them as deep as he could, imagining he was plunging something entirely different in there.

Dorian accepted his fingers without resistance. Stress and the pain of his hair being pulled were evident on his face, but his eyes… Oh, heaven have mercy—the boy’s eyes were misty with a savage desire, like those of a starving man. Like a man willing and able to do anything.

“If you want me to kiss you, close your eyes,” Charles whispered, choking on the words.

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About the Author

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

Rise Of A Nobleman | Valentina C. Brin

Rise_cover.jpg

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.

RISE OF A NOBLEMAN.jpg

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

logo_Valentina C. Brin.jpg

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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Facebook

Facebook Page

Facebook Group

Pinterest

Instagram

Goodreads

Amazon Author Page

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

➜Sign up to become a tour host here

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Blog Tour: T.A.G. You’re Seen by A.G. Carothers

T.A.G. You’re Seen | A.G. Carothers

The Assassin’s Guild #1

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Cover Artist: Amai Designs Samantha Santana

Release Date: May 21, 2019

Genre/s:

Heat Rating: 5 flames

Buy Links

Available on Kindle Unlimited

Universal Amazon Link

Amazon US | Amazon UK

Add on Goodreads

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Blurb

T.A.G. You better hope you’re not it!

Warning: This book contains explicit sexual content between consenting assassins and not so innocent professors.

There are depictions of masochistic masturbation, male chastity, breath play, watersports, humiliation, and torture by eighties hair bands with ginger sprinkles on top.

Phew! Now, that that’s out of the way, Hi. I’m Mr. No your friendly communications agent for The Assassins’ Guild AKA T.A.G.

I’ve been authorized by the head honcho himself, Mr. H, to release approved records from the agent files.

Agent Code Name Mr. W was recovering from a near-death debacle by way of an easy assignment in a small mountain town. Red flags sprang up immediately around the seemingly innocent English professor. Determined to get to the bottom of the mystery Jacob Peters presented, Mr. W made plans to do what he did best, watch, wait, and then capture and interrogate.

But even the best-laid plans can go awry and what Mr. W discovered derailed his plan to kill Jacob.

Find out what brought Mr. W to his knees in this first release from the archives of The Assassins’ Guild.

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Excerpt

Shortly, after the cock cage incident, Dad sat me down to have The Talk. I knew by then that I liked dick. At first, I thought maybe it was because I was around men all the time and hardly ever any women, but one day I pulled up cameras from the women’s locker room just to see.

Yeah, even the more masculine looking females did nothing for me. I got off my dad’s laptop quickly before he caught me and went back to my room to look at the gay porn I had smuggled from the sex shop. So, my dad sits me down and I’m worried. Even as isolated as we were on the compound, I had access to the outside world. I knew how homosexuality was viewed. Yes, there were changes being made and it was more accepted now, but I still worried.

I was sitting at the kitchen table when Dad came in with a dildo in one hand and a weird looking toy in the other one. It looked scary from afar. He put them down on the table along with a condom and a bottle of lube before he sat down. I was already blushing and ready to make a dash back to my room, but he pinned me with that look he got when he was dead serious and started his explanation. He showed me how to put a condom on, which I rolled my eyes at because duh. That was proceeded with a long talk on all STDs, how you can catch them in non-sexual ways, symptoms, and pictures. He pulled up pictures on his laptop. I was mortified, but damn if I was going to make sure I used condoms no matter what.

He then picked up the item that I had been avoiding looking at. It was multicoloured and just weird looking. It turned out to be a big silicon asshole more or less. It was weird. Later, I found out why it looked so weird, but that’s just not something I want to think about. Although, I did end up buying a few dildos from the fantasy dildo company it was from when I got older. But back to my horrifying sex talk with my dad. He opened the lube and briefly went over the best kinds of lube to use and when.

At this point, it hadn’t occurred to me how my dad knew all this stuff. He was my dad. He knew everything as far as I was concerned. He then showed me how, if I were to have sex with another man, how to prepare them or myself for it using the silicon asshole of course. He explained things like the prostate and other key erogenous zones of the male genitalia. By the end, I knew I was scarlet and dying of embarrassment. If my dad was embarrassed in any way, he didn’t show it. He was very clinical about it. He used his instructor voice and could have been going over the parts of a P-90, he was so unphased.

He never once said anything about women. The next day, I went to his office and asked him, “How did you know?”

He quirked an eyebrow at me and said, “Yoshi, do you really think Mr. Th (that was his assistant) got you stuff from the adult store in town without my permission?”

I turned beet red and stuttered, “No, sir.” I thought I was in huge trouble and kept my eyes on my feet.

My dad pulled me into his arms and hugged me tight, surprising me. “I’m not mad. I’m glad that you went to him rather than try to sneak off on your own or do something irresponsible. I figured you weren’t ready to talk to me about those kinds of things and that’s okay. Just know that I’m always here if you need me and I’ll never judge you.” I nodded and hugged him tight, not realizing that I had started crying. I hadn’t really thought how much I was worried about it until I felt the relief his words brought me.

“I love you, Dad.” The words came out more of a whisper than I intended.

He pushed me to arm’s length, so he could see me and wiped my eyes. “I love you too, Son. Now, go out to the range. You have a test tomorrow.” I nodded and headed to the door. I had my hand on the knob when he spoke again. “Just so you know, I’m gay too.”

I turned my head in shock. The surprise evident on my face, my eyes wide. He furrowed his brows at me. “What? Did you not think I had a love life, too?”

I tried to pick my jaw up off the ground to answer. “No, Dad. Honestly, I never thought about you having a relationship much less sex.”

Dad burst out laughing then. “Well, I do.”

I stuck my fingers in my ears and started singing, “Lalalalala. I don’t want to know, Dad.”

My dad sobered then and cleared his throat. “Do you think if I found someone I really liked that you’d be okay if I brought him round?”

I took my fingers out of my ears and went back and threw my arms around him again and squeezed tight and then let go. “Yeah, Dad.” Before things could get any more awkward, I dashed out the door and closed it behind me. I hissed traitor as I passed Mr. Th’s desk and went out to the range.

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About the Author

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A.G. Carothers is actually a dragon very cleverly disguised as a human. They are a non-binary author of LGBTQIA Romance and Urban Fantasy, who enjoys writing original and entertaining stories. They are very excited to share the worlds they’ve created with you.

A.G. currently lives in Tennessee with their platonic life partner, who is not a dragon. They yearn to live back in Europe and will someday. In their spare time, they are addicted to losing themselves in the lovely worlds created by other authors

A.G. is committed to writing the stories they see in their head without restrictions. Love is blind and doesn’t see gender, race, or sexuality.

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Release Blitz: The Duke & The Dandy Highwayman Trilogy by Zakarrie Clarke

The Duke & The Dandy Highwayman Trilogy | Zakarrie Clarke

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Release Date: May 6, 2019

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: approx. 100,000 words

It is a standalone story

Buy Links

Available on Kindle Unlimited

AVAILABLE FREE FOR A LIMITED TIME

FROM MON – FRI THIS WEEK

Amazon US

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Blurb

‘The Most High, Noble and Potent Prince, His Grace Padraic, Duke of Waterford.’

After enduring the Ducal Grand Entrance, one might be forgiven for thinking that an evening could only improve. One would be wrong. Padraic was then duty bound to find an amiable miss to romance and dance attendance upon.

In truth, the Duke was rather more partial to establishments that promised charms he would ne’er find in the arms of a Lady. Such dalliances did add a dash of decadence to his life of ducal drudgery, but time was tick-tocking and a blue-stocking bride must be wooed, and wed…

Raff of the Rookeries. The most afeared rake-hell to have haunted the highways since Darkin denied them the pleasure at the gallows…by stepping off the ladder before they could whip it from under his feet. Raff had fought his way up to rule the roost with instincts as razor-sharp as his dirk.

His sword skills, fists, and wily wits had stood him in good stead, but none had proved as invaluable as the weapon he’d ne’er needed to tend. His fury. A rage every bit as lethal as arsenic—deadlier than brawn, brains, or bravado—Raphael had carried it like a toxic plague. Until, he became Raff of the Rookeries.

Unleashed upon the underworld, it was the most formidable foe in London. Two men from two different worlds…a mere few miles apart. That is, until the fateful night when The Duke was halted in his tracks by a very Dandy Highwayman…

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Excerpt

Mayhaps twenty minutes later, the air turned decidedly rank; a stench that came accompanied by random street sounds and the odd drunken shout. They were, beyond any shadow o’doubt, heading for some godforsaken part of town. A logical assumption, further embellished by the aroma of decaying cabbage and other, far less salubrious odors.

If the Devil himself intended to demoralize the poor, he could not find a means more agreeable to his plans, than the London slums.

“Nearly there, Yer Grace,” The scoundrel called over his shoulder as they slowed to a trot.

“Where is ‘there’?” Padraic dared to wonder.

“My humble abode. It’s where you’ll be staying awhile; leastways until someone coughs up for yer safe return.” The highwayman’s voice sounded harsher, colder while imparting this, as if his words were poisoned by the rancid air as they fell from his lips.

“Whereabouts are we?” Padraic asked, curious as to whether his rogue would answer.

“The Strand.”

It was as he’d expected. They were in the warren of narrow, filthy streets and alleyways in the densely populated slums. Home to one of London’s most notorious Rookeries. An utterly lawless labyrinth of squalid living, gin dens, bawdy houses, and brothels. Popular legend told of a traveller who had entered Portugal Street on his way to The Strand and never emerged. His ghost was, apparently, still searching for a way back to civilization. Padraic would just have to hope to fare rather better than he.

The Duke had e’er been horrified that people were forced to live this way, right under the refined noses of the ton. Poles apart, but virtually overlapping in proximity. Padraic had poured thousands into funding an orphanage and school for foundlings, when he came into his inheritance. He visited them oft, choosing the staff himself to ensure that no child was ill-treated, but there was only so much he could do. With all the will in the world, there wasn’t a great deal to be done, as long as those in power turned a blind eye to the suffering of others.

“Whoa…” When Demon clattered to a halt on the cobblestones, the Duke reluctantly relinquished his grip about his captor’s person. The scoundrel shifted in the saddle and with one sharp tug, the kerchief was gone, alongside a fair few strands of hair that were tangled into its knot. The Duke scarce felt the sting as his hungry gaze guzzled the sight it had been denied for the duration of the ride. ’Twas with a devilish wink that the highwayman threw a leg over the horse’s head, before lightly dismounting.

“Billy, m’lad!” He hailed a youth seated on the front steps of a large dilapidated townhouse, holding a lantern aloft. An endearing grin lit up his grimy face as he sprang to his feet.

“Yer all right, Raff?” he chirped, in very genuine cockney tones.

“Too right I am. We ’ave ourselves a guest m’friend. Yer Grace, this is Billy—he ain’t got another name—so I can’t tell yer that. Billy, this ’ere is His Grace, The Duke of Waterford, so yer better mind your p’s ’n’ q’s, like I taught yer.”

“Hello Billy, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Padriac greeted him.

“Lawks! I can’t fink why, Yer…Grace?” Billy glanced at the man he’d called Raff, seeking reassurance for his form of address, and received an approving nod.

“I can’t think why ’twould not be.” Padraic smiled. Billy looked puzzled for a moment—as if trying to make sense of something he’d patently understood—then just beamed instead and reached for Demon’s halter.

“See that he’s rubbed down and well-fed, won’t you, Billy? I need to get our guest settled in.”

“Righto. C’mon Demon, let’s be ’avin yer, there’s oats awaiting and some fresh hay.”

“After you, Yer Grace…” The rascal sketched a bow, waving his hand with a flourish as he bent extravagantly low, before straightening up to push open the front door. It was painted black; blistered, peeling and desperately in need of a fresh coat. A large, dimly lit hallway lay beyond it, with a wide staircase ascending on the left.

“Raff! I’d almost given up ’ope on ya. Thought you’d gone a-whoring,” announced a stocky, bow-legged man, with close-cropped hair and forearms like lamb shanks. His broad grin revealed several missing teeth, the remaining ones having seen better days. Several decades ago.

Despite having tugged his kerchief down when they entered, Padraic was still unable to drink his fill of Raff’s face, for much of it was cast into shadow and the rest, obscured by a tangled fall of hair.

“Not tonight Bluff, I was off procuring us a guest,” he smirked.

“Crikey, you’ve nabbed a right nob. Who the ’ell is he?”

“This ’ere’s The Duke of Waterford.” Raff declared, inclining his head with divine insolence.

“Lawks! A Duke? Couldn’t yer find a Prince ’anging about then?” Bluff gaped.

“’Fraid not, we’ll just ’ave to slum it…” Raff tutted, with a fulsome sigh.

“I hope yer don’t expect me t’curtsy. I ain’t got the legs for it.”

“You ain’t got the legs for owt except sitting on ’orseback,” Raff retorted, about a breath before his tone darkened to a deadly rasp. “Bluff. See to it that no one. But no one. Lays a finger on him.” He added nary a dire threat, nor had he raised his voice. Raff had, in fact, lowered it to a lethal lash of sound that sliced the air like a whip—but it was the glint of green he levelled at Bluff that made the man swallow visibly while nodding several times.

“Will do, Raff. He’ll fetch a pretty price, won’t he?”

“Too bloody right, he will. I’ll have to keep him up top with me—Duke he might be—but he ain’t above being too ripe and ready by ’alf.”

“A dark ’orse is he? I ain’t at all surprised, now you mention it. Beggin’ yer pardon, Yer Dukeness. Right, I’ll just wait for Billy an’ lock up then.”

“Thanks, Bluff. ’Night.”

“’Night Raff…’night yer Dukeness.” Bluff doffed an imaginary cap at Padraic, who inclined his head with ducal gravity, so as not to disappoint him. The amiable miscreant was chuckling away to himself as he took his leave of them, before disappearing through a door further down the hallway.

“Right then, Yer Grace, up yer go. Right to the top,” Raff instructed, gesturing towards the staircase with a regal sweep of his hand.

“Are you locking me in the attic?” Padraic asked, as he clasped the bannister.

“I am, indeed. Yer can’t get up to any mischief up there.”

The Duke thought it might be wise to hold his tongue and make his way upstairs, afore the scoundrel decided to shove him in the coal cellar instead. Padraic’s brain was abuzz with demon steeds, daft monikers, and bandy-legged blackguards. A boy with only one name and a heart of gold.

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About the Author

After moving to London at eighteen and flitting about for far too long, Zakarrie settled, as blissy as can be, by the sea.

’Twas here that her castaway dreams resurfaced and she began to write; stories that are, in truth, better at being her than she’s ever been.

Her one hope now is that someone, somewhere, will enjoy the misadventures of her miscreants as much as she loves writing them.

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Cover Reveal: T.A.G You’re Seen by A.G. Carothers

T.A.G You’re Seen | A.G. Carothers

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Cover Artist: Amai Designs Samantha Santana

Release Date: May 21, 2019

Genre/s: MM, Thriller, Romance, MM, BDSM

Heat Rating: 5 flames

T.A.G. You better hope you’re not it!

Blurb

Attention: This book contains explicit sexual content between consenting assassins and not so innocent professors. There are depictions of masochistic masturbation, male chastity, breath play, watersports, humiliation, and torture by eighties hair bands with ginger sprinkles on top.

Phew! Now, that’s out of the way, Hi. I’m Mr. No your friendly communications agent for The Assassins’ Guild AKA T.A.G.

I’ve been authorized by the head honcho himself, Mr. H, to release approved records from the agent files.

Agent Code Name Mr. W was recovering from a near-death debacle by way of an easy assignment in a small mountain town. Red flags sprang up immediately around the seemingly innocent English professor. Determined to get to the bottom of the mystery Jacob Peters presented, Mr. W made plans to do what he did best, watch, wait, and then capture and interrogate.

But even the best-laid plans can go awry and what Mr. W discovered derailed his plan to kill Jacob.

Find out what brought Mr. W to his knees in this first release from the archives of The Assassins’ Guild.

About the Author

A.G. Carothers is actually a dragon very cleverly disguised as a human. They are a non-binary author of LGBTQIA Romance and Urban Fantasy, who enjoys writing original and entertaining stories. They are very excited to share the worlds they’ve created with you.

A.G. currently lives in Tennessee with their platonic life partner, who is not a dragon. They yearn to live back in Europe and will some day. In their spare time they are addicted to losing themselves in the lovely worlds created by other authors

A.G. is committed to writing the stories they see in their head without restrictions. Love is blind and doesn’t see gender, race, or sexuality.

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