Tag Archives: historical

Cover Reveal: Gentleman Wolf by Joanna Chambers

Gentleman Wolf | Joanna Chambers

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Release Date: August 26, 2019

Cover Design: Felix d’Eon

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Blurb

An elegant werewolf in Edinburgh… 

Lindsay Somerville, the most elegant werewolf in Paris, has no great wish to return to his home city of Edinburgh, but when he learns that the cruel Duncan MacCormaic is on the Continent and hunting for him, he reluctantly agrees to go into hiding.

Duncan, who held Lindsay in abject captivity for decades after savagely transforming him with his bite, has been trying to find Lindsay since the day he escaped his prison a century before. If Duncan can find him, he has the power to compel Lindsay to obey his every command, so the more distance Lindsay can put between them, the better.

… on a mission… 

While he’s in Edinburgh, Lindsay has been tasked with acquiring the “Naismith Papers”, the writings of a long-dead witchfinder. It should be a straightforward mission. All Lindsay has to do is charm an elderly book collector, Hector Cruikshank. But Cruikshank may not be all he seems—and there are others who want the papers.

… meets his match

As if that were not enough, while tracking down the Naismith Papers, Lindsay meets stubborn architect Drew Nicol. Although the attraction between them is intense, Nicol seems frustratingly determined to resist Lindsay’s advances. Somehow though, Lindsay can’t seem to accept Nicol’s rejection.

Is he just moonstruck, or is Nicol bonded to him in ways he doesn’t yet understand?

About The Author

Joanna Chambers always wanted to write. She spent over 20 years staring at blank sheets of paper and despairing of ever writing a single word. In between staring at blank sheets of paper, she studied law, met her husband and had two children.

Whilst nursing her first child, she rediscovered her love of romance and found her muse. Joanna lives in Scotland with her family and finds time to write by eschewing sleep and popular culture.

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Book Blitz: Aces Up by C. J. Baty

Aces Up | C. J. Baty

Pinkerton Man Series #3

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Buy Links:

Amazon US | Amazon UK

Length: 34,000 words approx.

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Blurb

Stiles Long emphatically did not want his lover, Michael O’Leary to go on the assignment he had been given. He didn’t care that Michael was an amazing poker player or that his commander thought Michael was the perfect man for the job. He almost lost Michael once. He couldn’t go through that again.

Michael needed this. He needed to prove that he was able to take care of himself. He didn’t need Stiles to take care of him. He needed to be Stiles’ equal. The poker game in Durango, Colorado was his chance to prove that. The fact that Stiles didn’t want him to go didn’t matter. Michael had to do this.

Lizzie Ferguson was Stiles partner in the Pinkerton Agency. She was a good agent. That didn’t mean she had to like being dressed in satin and lace, showing way too much of her body to total strangers. Lizzie knew there was more going on at Maverick’s Saloon, and it might just cost her life.

None of them suspected that a simple poker game would turn into a deadly nightmare. If the three of them weren’t careful, one of them might just end up the next victim.

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About The Author

J. Baty lives in southwest Ohio. Her heart, however, lives in the mountains of Tennessee where she hopes to retire some day. The mountains have always provided her with inspiration and a soothing balm to the stresses of everyday life.

The dream of writing her own stories started in high school but was left on the back burner of life until her son introduced her to fan fiction and encouraged her to give it a try. She found that her passion for telling a story was still there and writing them down to share with others was much more thrilling than she had ever expected.

She has a loving and supportive family who don’t mind fixing their own meals when she is in the middle of a story, and a network of friends who have encouraged and cheered her on in her quest of being an author.

One thing she has learned from life and she is often heard to say is: “You are never too old to follow your dream!”

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Pre-Release Blitz: Spellbound by Allie Therin

Spellbound | Allie Therin

Magic in Manhattan #1

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Published by: Carina Press

Release Date: July 29th

Length: Approximately 75,000 words

Buy Links:

Harlequin | Carina Press

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Google Play | Apple Books | Books-A-Million

Blurb

To save Manhattan, they’ll have to save each other first…

1925

New York

Arthur Kenzie’s life’s work is protecting the world from the supernatural relics that could destroy it. When an amulet with the power to control the tides is shipped to New York, he must intercept it before it can be used to devastating effects. This time, in order to succeed, he needs a powerful psychometric…and the only one available has sworn off his abilities altogether.

Rory Brodigan’s gift comes with great risk. To protect himself, he’s become a recluse, redirecting his magic to find counterfeit antiques. But with the city’s fate hanging in the balance, he can’t force himself to say no.

Being with Arthur is dangerous, but Rory’s ever-growing attraction to him begins to make him brave. And as Arthur coaxes him out of seclusion, a magical and emotional bond begins to form. One that proves impossible to break—even when Arthur sacrifices himself to keep Rory safe and Rory must risk everything to save him.

One-click with confidence. This title is part of the Carina Press Romance Promise: all the romance you’re looking for with an HEA/HFN. It’s a promise!

Extract

A distant jingle startled Rory, the sound of the front door’s bell ringing behind Mrs. Brodigan as she left for the night. He glanced at the clock and groaned. It was hard to keep track of present time when he scried, and he’d let himself get distracted and spent longer than he’d meant watching the vision of that letter’s past.

He set the forgery on his side table and reached back into the box, withdrawing the second letter off the stack. He unfolded it to find it was also signed by Frederick Douglass, this time dated October 1855.

Huh.

He emptied the box of all its letters and found them all signed by Frederick Douglass, all dated between 1855 and 1857, some duplicates of each other. He spread the letters across his lap, the chair, and the footstool, and pursed his lips.

There was no way all twenty-two of the letters were going to be real. Had this sap bought an entire lot of dodgy historic letters, hoping to get lucky? But why would a congressman’s son need to pay double for some Hell’s Kitchen shop to rush-appraise the lot?

Rory ground his teeth. This was weird and he didn’t like weird—he liked safe and predictable.

But he also liked having a roof over his head, and he still had twenty-one letters to scry. He rubbed his eyes behind the glasses. He’d leave the mysteries to people who could afford to care about them and just be grateful he’d make February’s rent.

But as he picked up another letter, he couldn’t shake the heavy suspicion that something about this job smelled wrong. Mr. Kenzie had said he wanted any forgeries found by breakfast.

What wasn’t he saying?

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About The Author

Allie Therin is a writer and avid reader of sci-fi, fantasy, and romance. She also is, or has been, a bookseller, an attorney, a Parks & Rec assistant, a boom operator, and a barista for one (embarrassing) day. She grew up in a tiny Pacific Northwest town with more bears than people, although the bears sadly would not practice Spanish with her.

When not researching odd questions for her 1920s romance series, she loves to connect with other readers and writers. Come say hi on Goodreads, Twitter, Facebook, or at allietherin.com!

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An exceptionally good debut from Allie Therin

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Spellbound
by Allie Therin

My rating: 4.5 of 5 stars

This book is exceptionally good.

It hit pretty much every note I’d expect in a historical paranormal mystery romance, from a great sense of the time period, to a unique interpretation of magic abilities, to a decent set of villains and some sweet relationship development.

My only criticism, and it comes down to personal taste only, is that I really dislike fade to black or sex scenes referenced as happening off page.

It takes away an aspect of relationship development – that of the trust which comes with a sexual exchange – from the reader and, again in my own opinion, means you have a slight disconnect between the affection happening on page and that layer of build-up.

This is especially important to see for me as a reader in a period where homosexuality was not only frowned upon but could, in certain parts of the world, still mean imprisonment or death, as it demonstrates the emotional connection between two men in spite of the dangers.

That said, it really is my only niggle, because everything else just absolutely worked. I adored Rory and Ace, the secondary cast of both heroic accomplices, and villainous former friends, were brilliantly outlined and detailed.

The magical world is New York with a twist, it has a steampunk feel to it while mostly being rooted in the 20s Prohibition Era and I loved the paranormal elements.

Annoyingly for me, book two isn’t due out until next year because we’re left with a sort of cliffhanger and a lot of loose story plot ends which will be running through the series and I’m dying to find out more!

#ARC kindly received from the author in return for an honest and unbiased review

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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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New Release Blitz: The Women Of Dauphine by Deb Jannerson

The Women Of Dauphine | Deb Jannerson

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Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: June 10, 2019

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 55,500

Buy Links:

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

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Blurb

When Cassie’s family moves into a decrepit house in New Orleans, the only upside is her new best friend. Gem is witty, attractive, and sure not to abandon Cassie—after all, she’s been confined to the old house since her murder in the ’60s.

As their connection becomes romantic, Cassie must keep more and more secrets from her religious community, which hates ghosts almost as much as it hates gays. Even if their relationship prevails over volatile parents and brutal conversion therapy, it may not outlast time.

Excerpt

The Women of Dauphine
Deb Jannerson © 2019
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
I met Gem the day we moved from the sedate suburbs to downtown New Orleans.

I had recently turned eight, and my first sight of her coincided with our first sight of the Victorian house. I’m not certain if some of my earliest memories are authentic or recreated by photos and hearsay, but that moment made for a striking mental snapshot I’ve never doubted: baroque, crumbling pink-and-ivory walls; a stylish teenaged 1960s brunette perched on the steps. I feasted my eyes upon her in the way only a curious child can. The opportunity delighted me, especially because my parents had forbidden me to stare at the young runaways clogging the sidewalk. The lost children.

I’d be leery of any Crescent City-raised kid who claimed never to have been fascinated by them. The lost children of the city streets were as diverse in origin as they were in countenance. The first I’d seen that morning had been a tap-dancing boy around my own age, gleefully calling to various “cutie-pahs” in an undetermined accent. His joy reached out to me, undisturbed by the morning’s sharp tang of whiskey and street cleaner. I might not have believed he was alone in the world, like the poor souls my parents derided, if not for the layers of sweat marks on his clothes. My parents ignored his dollar-filled top hat and turned my head away in an admonishment. This made me wonder, maybe for the first time, what kind of people they were.

Then, I saw the girl: late teens, stringy sandy hair like frayed rope, weeping with abandon without bothering to hide her face from the tourists and blue-collar shop workers. She seemed “lost,” all right; certainly, more so than the cartoon boys of Peter Pan who had introduced me to the “lost” term in the first place. I remembered the twitch in my father’s face as he snapped the TV’s power button in one fluid motion and turned to explain who the lost children of Louisiana really were.

The girl waiting at our dwelling on Dauphine Street shared a hint of the blonde crier’s defiance, but she also exuded fun. She didn’t bother to sit in the ladylike way I’d learned in church. Still, she jumped up before I reached an angle at which I could see up her green skirt—a fact I noted matter-of-factly, and with some vague sense of disappointment. I continued to examine her clothes anyway, with a youth’s comically bobbing head. I had never seen tights like that before; they were nothing but strings in a diamond pattern. And was that a Boy Scout shirt?

“Hi!” I yelled, unnecessarily since we were barely five feet apart by now. There were chuckles behind me; it seemed like my parents always laughed at me doing normal, serious things. The girl staggered backward, widening her brown-gold eyes. “What’s your name?” She glanced at my parents in something like panic, then back at me, and her face softened.

“I’m Gem.” She glanced behind me again, and I followed her gaze to my mother, situated behind the battered chain-link fence, gazing blankly at our narrow new house. My father caught up, breaking through her reverie as he bustled through the space where a gate should be and pulled our keys out of his suit pocket.

The girl—Gem—stumbled off the stairs and several steps to the right, which is to say, at the edge of the property. Her eyes followed my parents carefully as they entered our new home. Obviously, I didn’t know it at the time, but she was waiting to see if they’d notice her as I had.

Perhaps all houses came with a pretty girl, or maybe she was moving out. “Dad, can Gem come inside?”

My mother turned around in the corridor first. “What, Cassandra?”

“Can she come in with me?” I pointed at Gem and then grabbed her hand. She made a short sound of surprise at my touch.

My mother rolled her eyes elaborately. It didn’t take much to annoy her, especially where I was concerned. She turned to my father, hissing, “Isn’t she a bit old for this?” I could hear the disgust.

My father, unusually jovial today, held up a hand, and my mother went quiet. “It’s okay.” To me: “Sure, little one. Let’s all go in and look around.”

Gem’s expression had gone both stunned and amused. It was a face I’d come to know well and love: the face of a person thrust into a strange scenario she was more than game enough to explore.

“You never told me your name.” Gem flopped into the floral armchair across the room from my bed, then, with a self-conscious glance at me, maneuvered herself into the position my old teacher had promoted as “proper posture.” Unfamiliar furniture crowded the room, from the molded wooden headboard to the dresser’s little blue dollhouse. I missed my room back home, and despite what my father had promised, this didn’t seem “even better” and I could still “remember what came before.” At least I had a new friend already.

“Cassie.” My parents insisted on using the full “Cassandra,” but since they were downstairs, I might as well use the moniker I preferred, the one that hadn’t proved too unwieldy for my classmates to manage.

She nodded. “I’m Gem.”

“You said that already!”

She began to smile, raising her eyebrows. “It’s still true.”

I realized I liked her already. Not only did she dress cool; she struck me as funny, while also, somehow, profound. Had Gem done it on purpose, and anyway, why didn’t people introduce themselves more than once? Even my parents seemed to know she was special, considering they hadn’t made her take off her boots on the rug inside the doorway. Sure, they had ignored her, and so maybe they did not like her, but they must have respect for her. Before this, respect was something I had only seen them demand.

My mind became full of questions, not least of which was why she was talking to someone like me. I settled on the most important-seeming one: “Are you going to stay here?”

Gem smiled again, but this time, one end of her mouth turned down. “Yeah. I’ve been living in this room for a long time, and I’m not about to be driven out.”

“That’s great!” Both hands flew to my mouth, and, sure enough, my mother shouted, equally loudly, from directly below my floor: “Indoor voice, Cassandra!”

“I mean,” I added, “I’ve always wanted a sister.”

“Well, I’m not really your sister.” Gem shrugged and glanced away, her soft brown hair flying in a curtain over her face. “I guess it’ll be like sharing a room with a friend.”

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About the Author

Deb Jannerson is the author of the books of poetry Rabbit Rabbit (Finishing Line Press, 2016) and Thanks for Nothing (Finishing Line Press, 2018), available wherever books are sold. The Women of Dauphine is her debut YA novel.

She won the 2017 So to Speak Nonfiction Contest for an essay about queer intimacy and PTSD, the 2018 Flexible Persona Editors’ Prize (and a Pushcart nomination) for a work of flash fiction about gruesome at-work injuries, and a Two Sisters Publishing prize for a story about switching bodies with her cat.

More than one hundred of her pieces have been featured in anthologies and magazines, including viral articles for Bitch Media. Deb lives in New Orleans with her wife.

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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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