Tag Archives: grief

Blog Tour: Third Front by E.M. Hamill

Third Front  | E.M. Hamill

The Dalí Tamareia Missions #3

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Release Date: October 18th, 2022

Publishing Company: StarBard Books

Cover Artist: JCaleb Designs

Buy Links

Amazon US | Amazon UK

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Blurb

Dalí Tamareia has the terrorist Skadi in their sights – but bringing her in may cost them everything.

Dalí’s role as an undercover operative is compromised, putting a target on their back and threatening the close-knit team aboard Thunder Child. A new lead on Miriam Skadi’s activities forces them back to Luna, where they must confront everything they tried to run from…including their changed relationship with Rion Sumner, who insists on backing up Dalí for this investigation.

But Dalí is not the only one searching for Skadi. An alien presence hunts the terrorist as well, taking over Sumner’s body to ensure Dalí’s cooperation. With their team on the other side of the solar system Dalí must depend on this questionable ally to complete the mission, which takes a deadly turn when an old nemesis resurfaces.

If there is any chance for a future with Sumner and their chosen family, Dalí must exorcise the demons haunting them, or they will burn in the heart of a star.

About the Series: A diplomat turned galactic operative risks everything to bring in the terrorist who shattered their life.

Warnings: graphic violence, grief, sexually explicit scenes.

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Excerpt

The flint-blue curve of Earth filled the transparent alloy of the windshield. Even gravely wounded, humanity’s ancestral home was breathtaking. Phantoms of arid golden continents haunted breaks in the heavy cloud-cover; oceans glinted like winks of mercury in Sol’s light. The atmosphere was beginning to clear, but it would take the surface longer to purge the toxic aftermath of war and pollution from soil and sea.

How in the seven hells did we manage to fuck up a whole planet?

“Prepare for drop,” Sumner murmured into his headset. I braced myself.

“In five. Four. Three. Two …

The magnet released us. Sumner fired top thrusters to quickly maneuver the ship away from the hull and we floated free. “We’re clear.”

“See you soon,” Ozzie said. Thunder Child left us in her wake, heading off to complete the surveillance mission. Sumner throttled the little craft into motion and carved an arc in space, putting the planet behind us.

And there it was.

The moon’s disc swelled before us, painted in silver and ash. In the nightfall of Earth’s passing shadow, the lunar plains of Mare Nubium sparkled with lights, and at the southern horn of the penumbra’s crescent, where light and darkness embraced, lay the place I once called home.

“Have you ever been to Luna?” My uneven voice betrayed the winding tension inside me.

“No.” Sumner glanced at me, but I kept my gaze on the moon, unable to meet his eyes. “I’ve only been to the major space stations before Mars. Where did you live?”

“Kepler. You can just make out a hexagon of complexes north of the crater.”

“I see it.”

“The apex dome, Galileo, is where the Capitol is. The University is under Kepler, at the middle left. That’s where … where we … “

Memories lay bitter and sweet on my tongue, the ache in my throat a hot coal. Oh, coming back was such a bad idea.

“The—” I coughed to clear the suffocating thickness from my voice. “The old city is in the industrial complex at the bottom of Bullialdus Crater, that cluster of rectangular structures near the shuttle port.”

A sparkle of transparent alloy and steel caught my eye as we got closer. My palms grew damp.

Luna Terminal gleamed against the void of space. Intact, as if the explosion that shattered the Earthward docking arm and killed so many innocent people had never happened. As if my heart was still whole and strong, not the bruised piece of meat thudding too fast in my chest.

The restored line of windows where Gresh and ‘Sida once stood to bid me goodbye were blank and flawless. Empty.

The spring-coil of anxiety suddenly exploded into shards and hollowed out my insides. I forgot to breathe, my white-knuckled fingers clenching the edge of the jump seat.

Fuck Kiran Singh. No matter what Mother England wanted to tell me, I should never have agreed to come back.

My breath ran shallow in the heavy gravity of blind panic. I fumbled with the stiff buckle of the five-point harness.

“Dalí? You okay?” Sumner’s quiet voice cut through the noise in my head.

“I can’t … ” The clasp wouldn’t give, my sweat-slick fingers numb and buzzing. “God damn it! I need to get out of the cockpit.”

“Hey, hey.” He extended his right hand and gently laid it over mine where I scrabbled at the release. “We’re in Three. Where are you going to go?”

I gave up trying and gripped his hand, pressing it against my chest.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “Breathe. A deep breath. Come on, you can do it.”

I drew in a shuddering gasp, filled my lungs with air, and just as unevenly let it out.

“Again.”

The second one was less painful. “I’m sorry,” I managed to wheeze. “I didn’t think it would hit me this hard.”

“You thought you were prepared. You weren’t. Not yet.”

His hand was warm, and I hugged it like an anchor against the free-fall of chaos. I didn’t let go until my breathing was closer to normal and I knew I wouldn’t fall apart. His touch calmed me, and at the same time it created a ripple of longing I wasn’t ready to deal with. That was finally what made me let go.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, releasing his hand with a sheepish press of gratitude, and scrubbed my wet eyes with my palms. It was the first episode in months since I’d started the meds. I was fiercely glad Thunder Child was out of our implanted coms’ range and my teammates had not been remote witnesses to this meltdown. “I feel ridiculous.”

“Never feel that way.” The gentle admonition made me glance up and meet his eyes. Aquamarine sparks snapped in the depths of his irises as he held my gaze. “What you witnessed can’t be processed all at once. It comes out in pieces because it’s too much.”

“That felt like a huge chunk.” But the empty space had begun to collapse on itself. The void softly filled with a new substrate and covered the scree of old trauma as we stared at each other. Once again, Rion Sumner showed me the side I wanted to know better, and I desperately wanted to know it when I wasn’t a fucking mess he had to prop up.

“Port Armstrong to approaching vessel.” Three’s com blared as Luna Station’s control center registered our presence. The emotionless mechanical voice in our headsets startled both of us. “Verify identity and destination.”

Sumner toggled his mic with what I swore was irritation. “Port Armstrong, Midak 3 requesting approach.”

“Midak 3, transmitting approach vectors,” the artificial controller’s voice replied.

The instrument panel came alive with lights and coordinates. Auto-piloting sequences blinked suggestively on the data screen. Of course, Sumner chose to pilot Three manually, our moment of connection sublimated into preparation to enter lunar airspace.

I silently cursed the cock-blocking AI running the tower and sat back to watch him guide our little craft into the deep well of Bullialdus Crater, a bright path of syncopated flashes leading us into the underground terminal. The small, rocking thump of landing sent a shiver through me.

Luna. The people who had made it my home no longer existed, yet here I was.

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About The Author

em hammill 2

Elisabeth “E.M.” Hamill is a nurse by day, unabashed geek, chocoholic, sci fi and fantasy novelist by nights, weekends, and wherever she can steal quality time with her laptop.

She lives with her family in the wilds of eastern suburban Kansas, where they fend off flying monkey attacks and prep for the zombie apocalypse.

Social Media

Website: https://emhamill.wordpress.com

Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/EMHamill

Twitter: https://twitter.com/songmagick

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16592440.E_M_Hamill

Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com): https://www.limfic.com/mbm-book-author/e-m-hamill/

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/~/e/B00JY0FV8S

Giveaway

E.M. is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card with this tour

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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

Enter the Giveaway

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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Release Blitz: Unshackled by Cara Dee

Unshackled | Cara Dee

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Release Date: November 19th, 2021

Universal Link: https://readerlinks.com/l/2169333

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/59607169-unshackled

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Blurb

In the wake of the bloodiest war the Sons of Munster had seen in a long time, we were supposed to celebrate our victory and move on with our lives. I wanted to see my brothers-in-arms dance and drink way too much. I wanted to hear laughter and Irish music. Instead, we were a syndicate crushed by grief.

Shannon O’Shea had lost more than most, and every fiber of my being screamed at me to pull him from the depths of his despair. As the father of my best friend, he’d been there for me when my parents kicked me out for being gay. Now it was my turn. I had to find the answers. I had to rescue him.

The day he asked for a favor and demanded discretion, the plan unfolded before my eyes, and I couldn’t resist the temptation. No names, no faces. He wouldn’t know it was me in the darkness. At the same time, the shackles around my wrists tightened as old enemies slithered back out of the gutters of my city, and my brothers and I were once again on the warpath.

Unshackled spares no one, and along the way, you’ll get everything from high-speed car chases, secret meetings in the dark, and the rawest hours of grief, to strong family ties, humor, and unconditional love.

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Excerpt

Seventeen minutes later, I returned to my own place a changed man. A deaf man.

I rubbed my ear and tossed my keys on the hallway table.

Shan was sitting on the couch, sipping a drink. Vodka, judging by the bottle on the coffee table.

“What’s the occasion?” I asked.

He glanced over at me, and the languidness of his movements told me everything I needed to know. He’d been at it for a while.

I removed the bottle and returned it to the cabinet.

“I need a favor,” he muttered. “I…I can’t ask sober.”

I frowned and sat down next to him. How bad could it be? Our guys in the syndicate turned to me for favors all the time. With my position, I was more connected than the boss himself, ’cause Finn had to stay clean. He couldn’t get his hands dirty for nothing.

“Whatever you need, sir. You know that.”

He nodded with a dip of his chin, then finished his drink and set the glass on the table. “You’ve set men up with mistresses and girlfriends before.”

Shite.

I’d been waiting for this, yet I hadn’t expected it so soon.

“Aye.” I eyed him carefully. His pain was as evident as usual.

But maybe it wasn’t so soon after all. It’d been over a year since Grace had died.

“Do you want me to arrange something for you?” I asked. “I can get it done in a couple of hours.”

He swallowed hard. “I miss human touch, but I don’t wanna see anyone.”

I felt my forehead crease. I could relate to the yearning, but I wasn’t sure if he was talking literally about the last part. “You mean you don’t want a relationship, or you want it anonymous?”

“Both,” he rasped. Then he cleared his throat. “I’m not looking for intimacy. Just physical. No faces, no names, no talking, no off-the-books apartment, nothing social.”

I nodded slowly, the alternatives appearing in my head—or disappearing, one by one. I wanted to say intimacy was exactly what he needed, but it was his choice. There were still options.

“That leaves you with massage parlors and fetish clubs,” I answered.

“It has to be dark,” he insisted. “Pitch black.”

Okay. He really didn’t wanna risk seeing a face. Fine, I could work with that. A certain underground club came to mind, and it was run by a friend of Colm’s. Aside from the main club being an essential location for our drug trade, it had an upstairs area with a VIP section, a hallway full of private booths, and a couple rooms with viewing windows for live porn.

“Any other preferences?” I asked. “I reckon you don’t care if she’s a blonde or a redhead in the dark, but body type? Age? You want her screened and on birth control so you can go without rubbers? You care about safewords? You want a subservient little thing or a bossy—”

“Jesus,” he muttered and rubbed his temples. “It suddenly feels too complicated. And at the risk of making it worse, I’d prefer a man.”

Fuck my life. Fuck my life hard.

About The Author

cara dee image

I’m often awkwardly silent or, if the topic interests me, a chronic rambler. In other words, I can discuss writing forever and ever. Fiction, in particular. The love story—while a huge draw and constantly present—is secondary for me, because there’s so much more to writing romance fiction than just making two (or more) people fall in love and have hot sex.

There’s a world to build, characters to develop, interests to create, and a topic or two to research thoroughly.

Every book is a challenge for me, an opportunity to learn something new, and a puzzle to piece together. I want my characters to come to life, and the only way I know to do that is to give them substance—passions, history, goals, quirks, and strong opinions—and to let them evolve.

I want my men and women to be relatable. That means allowing room for everyday problems and, for lack of a better word, flaws. My characters will never be perfect.

Wait…this was supposed to be about me, not my writing.

I’m a writey person who loves to write. Always wanderlusting, twitterpating, kinking, cooking, baking, and geeking. There’s time for hockey and family, too. But mostly, I just love to write.

Find Cara on social media here:https://www.caradeewrites.com/cdwlandingpage

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