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Release Blitz: Loverman by BD Roca

Loverman | BD Roca

A Sydney Stories Novel

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Release Date: November 12th, 2020

Length: 70,500 words

Universal link: mybook.to/loverman

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/55841006-loverman

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Blurb

A rock star hiding a vicious crime.

A billionaire’s son fighting for his own identity.

Kemp Lansey and Charles Durant, once stepbrothers. One, now a famous singer. The other, a renowned photographer. Reunited after eight years, Kemp tells himself that it’s just sex—fierce, damned near bloodletting sex.

Sex and a mutual understanding.

Kemp doesn’t want Charles’ millions.

Charles doesn’t want Kemp’s fame and glory.

Kemp tells himself he can have their new relationship, as long as Charles never finds out Kemp is guarding someone else’s secrets—secrets that drove them apart all those years ago. Secrets that could tear apart the life of someone Kemp loves. Secrets that could end their relationship.

Kemp walked away once. He should walk away again.

All he has to do is hide the truth from Charles.

Because Charles can’t know. Can he?

Excerpt

Five minutes later Charles was dragging the curtains over stable’s windows. Kemp hit Silent on his phone.

He doubted they’d even hear Dylan and Ben arrive, not at the main house. Grabbing the stables had been genius, but right now, Kemp had more interesting things to think about, like the man standing across the room from him, slowly stripping free of his clothes. Kemp shut down his phone, leaned back against one scrubbed brick wall, and watched the show.

“Long evening,” he remarked.

Charles grinned. It was a rare sight, that open, wide grin, and Kemp drank it in even when he knew, awareness scratching like fiend at the back of his mind, that a discussion awaited them back in Sydney, one about his toxic fucking mother, money, and ownership.

But he hadn’t gotten this far, survived Maxine’s glory years and the Palm Beach years and that horror and every other fucking thing before fame and fortune came along, ready and ripe, without being able to compartmentalise, and he was compartmentalising right now like a goddamn Olympic champion.

“Endless,” Charles agreed, on a low husky breath. That grin again. “Especially when you began on the Janis Joplin best-of.”

“My interpretation of ‘Me and Bobby McGee’ was out of this world.”

“It was only bettered by your styling of ‘Son of a Preacher Man.’”

“What can I say?” Kemp strolled across the room, slid the last button on his shirt free, and dropped it to the floor. Charles’ gaze slid over his chest, down the sliver of dark hair that arrowed into his hip-hugging jeans. “Janis and Dusty got me through many a rough night.”

Which wasn’t far from the truth. A memory flashed: he and Viva in the pre-Durant days, huddled in the living room of the shitty flat Maxine was renting back then, Maxine out clubbing in the a.m. with fuck-who-knew, Dusty Springfield playing on YouTube while Viva told him how she was going to make incredible movies one day. And Kemp had listened and worked his way around the catalogues of all the great classic singers and spun his own dreams. Who the hell had Charles had to tell his dreams to? Share his heroes with? No family, no siblings, no friends he could trust. The loneliness of it cut Kemp up deep inside. It gutted him.

If he let himself think about it too deeply, he’d let himself realise that it always had.

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About The Author

BD Roca grew up in Brisbane, Australia and still misses the scent of frangipani and living in funky old Queensland houses.

When not writing, she enjoys yoga, and the occasional glass of pinot, although not in combination. She can be reached at bdroca.author@gmail.com

Socials Media

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/bdroca

Instagram: @bdrocawrites

Twitter: @bd_roca

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/BD-Roca-115132653733651

Website: https://bdroca.wordpress.com

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New Release Blitz: A Face Without A Heart by Rick R. Reed

A Face Without A Heart | Rick R. Reed

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Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: June 1, 2020

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 56,700

Buy Links:

NineStar Press | Amazon

Smashwords | Kobo

Add to Goodreads

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Blurb

A modern-day and thought-provoking retelling of Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray that esteemed horror magazine Fangoria called “…a book that is brutally honest with its reader and doesn’t flinch in the areas where Wilde had to look away….

A rarity: a really well-done update that’s as good as its source material.”

A beautiful young man bargains his soul away to remain young and handsome forever, while his holographic portrait mirrors his aging and decay and reflects every sin and each nightmarish step deeper into depravity… even cold-blooded murder.

Prepare yourself for a compelling tour of the darkest sides of greed, lust, addiction, and violence.

Excerpt

A Face without a Heart
Rick R. Reed © 2020
All Rights Reserved

Prologue
GARY

There is blood on my hands. I look down at a body, a body that’s become a thing—monstrous, ugly, inanimate. It could be a sculpture, a figure formed from wax or porcelain. The soul inside is gone, leaving a shell. I wipe a line of sweat from my forehead with a trembling hand, trying to tell myself these things, trying to believe that what lies at my feet is nothing more than an object, something to be reviled, something not worthy of further consideration.

It’s not easy to believe. Although the corpse does not have a twinkle in its eye or the simple rise and fall of a chest, it’s hard to remove myself from the plain fact that the body possessed those movements, those simple signs of life, just minutes ago. Distance, for now, seems more a matter of location than of feeling. The body at my feet wears the badges of its untimely demise—a dented face, a split-open skull, blood and grayish-pink matter seeping out. The bruises have already begun to rise, ugly yellow-pink things all over the body.

I stoop, plunge my fingers into the deepest hole, the one on the belly, to feel the warmth and the entrails. Amazed that the breathing has stopped. Amazed that I have such power.

I lift a finger to my mouth and slowly run it over my lips, the blackish liquid warm and viscous, metallic to the taste. I recall the vampire films I loved as a youth, never really believing such a thing could exist.

Now I do.

I have stolen a life so that my own might continue. There is something vampiric in that, isn’t there? Because without this theft of a beating heart and an expanding and contracting pair of lungs, I would be unable to live.

Isn’t that the real essence of the vampire?

It seems too quiet here, deep in the basement of a high-rise. A dull clanging is my only accompaniment, pipes bringing warmth and water to tenants above, whose lives continue, ignorant, untouched by my murderous hand. And that’s the amazing thing, the thing that causes my breath, when drawn inward, to quiver.

Life goes on, in spite of this monumental act, just a quick, surprised scream and a heartbeat away.

There is blood on the walls, spattered Jackson Pollock-style. Who can say what is art and what is murder?

This so-called victim who now lies in final repose on a cold concrete floor, staring vacantly at nothing or perhaps at the hell that will one day consume me, can no longer chastise me, can no longer beg me to drop to my knees with him and pray, pray for forgiveness, imploring Jesus to lead me down the path of the righteous.

It’s not too late, he said before I brought the mallet down on his skull, cracking it open like a walnut, slamming it into his windpipe, his gut, an eye socket, his shoulders as he fell, anywhere the mallet would ruin, destroying, sucking life.

He was wrong. The final irony of his existence, I suppose, is that he thought he had the power to do anything, to change another person, whom, I must admit, he cared very deeply about.

No, that power rests in my hand, the death-dealing claw that changed him. And people whine about how change never really lasts when it comes to others, how they always unfortunately revert to their old ways, the ways you don’t want them to be. Anyone who has ever tried to change another knows this to be true. Oh certainly, the change may last a week, a month, even a year. But soon the real person comes back, the one who has been waiting in the wings for just the right cue, the one that will allow him to say “Ah fuck it, I’ve had enough.”

But the change I’ve wrought in my friend can never be undone. He is dead and always will be. I have a power of which psychiatrists and psychologists can only dream. And I accomplished my transformation in a matter of seconds, behind a red-tinged curtain of rage.

Pretty sly, eh? For a man who’s spent most of his life doing nothing but looking after his own selfish needs and pursuing his own pleasures, it’s a pretty accomplished thing. Decisive. For once, a man of action.

I nudge him with my foot and am amazed at the heaviness my friend has taken on in death. His body doesn’t want to give, to roll; it has become a body at rest…forever.

I turn and head back upstairs. There are matters to attend to…clothes to be burned, an alibi to be concocted. People will want answers. And conveniently, I will have none. Knowledge is a dangerous thing. What was it my other friend once told me? “The only people worth knowing are the ones who know everything and the ones who know nothing.”

I know nothing about this. And now I must go back into the realm of the living to ensure my ignorance remains secure.

But alone, I know that ignorance is one of the few luxuries I can no longer afford. Alone, I have only the luxury of time to contemplate how it all began.

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About the Author

Real Men. True Love.

Rick R. Reed is an award-winning and bestselling author of more than fifty works of published fiction. He is a Lambda Literary Award finalist. Entertainment Weekly has described his work as “heartrending and sensitive.”

Lambda Literary has called him: “A writer that doesn’t disappoint…”

Rick lives in Palm Springs, CA, with his husband, Bruce, and their fierce Chihuahua/Shiba Inu mix, Kodi.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

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New Release Blitz: TSC: The Studio by Mike E. Galloway

TCS: The Studio | Mike E. Galloway

Tribal Culture Studio #1

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Release Date: 9/7/18

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 76133 Words

Genre: Romance, Erotica

Purchase at Amazon

Add to Goodreads

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Synopsis

Jason Gelardi is a college dropout who wants the perfect life and the perfect boyfriend.

With a knack for photography, he establishes Tribal Culture Studio, a modeling agency in San Diego, and hires several hot guys to be models for him.

Over the course of his career, he works with a charming surfer, a mechanical engineering graduate student, and a rising water polo athlete, among others.

TCS: The Studio is a coming-of-age experience for Jason as he learns responsibility and self-reliance.

Find out which of the lucky studs he ends up with, and how successful he becomes at not only love but in business.

Excerpt

Now was my time to truly explore Noel, the epitome of muscle-bound perfection. He sat, eyes closed and relaxed, right next to me in the hot tub. Why he had to wear his swimsuit was beyond me, but at least he was here. I examined him once again, his bubbly pecs hanging just above the surface of the water. The frothy foam prevented seeing his toned abs from up on top, but If I really wanted to, I could try and touch them, and it was worth it to try. “Mind if I touch?” I asked, pointing towards his chest.

“I guess. I am feeling a little tense there right now.” Score! With no delay, I placed the palm of my left hand on his right pec muscle, turning my body so it faced his. With my knees planted on the fiberglass flooring, I let go of him with my palm and pressed hard, but gradually on his chest with my knuckles. I could see his facial expressions as I made circles with my hands to relieve the tension. His teeth clenched together, but I wasn’t sure if he was in any pain. I looked down into the water, and still couldn’t see anything down there. I did about twenty circles on his chest before patting each pec a couple of times and moving on down to his stomach.

As I placed my hand on his toned, rigid abs, he pushed me away, almost making me lose balance. “You suck at this,” he said. “Turn around and bend over.”

I turned myself around and felt a chill down my spine, thinking it would chill the soothing waters. Was he going to fuck me? I hoped so, but his stoic expression told me that wasn’t going to happen. After all, he was wearing a swimsuit. I tried taking a deep breath without inhaling the steam coming from the tub, but a little bit of it got in. I wanted to sneeze, and just as it was about to come out, I felt an iron grip on my right shoulder. It sucked out all the sneeze. I felt another iron grip clasping on my other shoulder as I looked towards my right. I guess Noel decided to give me a massage.

He started with just my right side, his hands beating into my shoulder with more pressure than I was giving him. It was agonizing to say the least. Tears began to form up in my eyes from the excruciating pain he gave me. I couldn’t say stop, because I wanted him to worship my body. Even though only around five minutes had passed, it seemed like an eternity before he stopped. It was only for a moment, but the pain continued on my left side, this time with twice the magnitude.

He gave me a beatdown of a lifetime, pounding my shoulders and back like I was his drum. The painful massage ended as he gently patted my neck afterwards. “Okay, Jason. Turn around again and sit down.”

I turned myself and sat in the seat I was originally facing. Noel towered over me; his abs right in front of my face and sprinkled with drops of spa water grouped up on each muscle. “Now I see why you became a model,” I said.

Meet the Author

Raised in Central California, Mike E. Galloway grew up in a world filled with the expectations of heteronormativity and homophobia. He overcame these expectations by writing LGBT stories and vignettes ever since the age of 14 and has never turned back since.

Mike lives in Las Vegas, NV and is currently working on a 3-book series featuring a young gay photographer who is on a journey to find love and his way in the world. Find out more or join the community:

Website | Facebook | Twitter Tribal Jason | Twitter Tribal Ryker | Twitter Tribal Noel |eMail | Instagram

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