Tag Archives: polyamory

Blog Tour: Canopy by Liz Faraim

Canopy | Liz Faraim

Vivian Chastain #1

BANNER FB - Canopy

Release Date: October 26th, 2020

Publisher: NineStar Press

Length: 72,119

Buy Links:

Publisher | Universal Link

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Blurb

Vivian Chastain is an adrenaline addicted veteran transitioning to civilian life in Sacramento, California. She settles into a new routine while she finishes up college and works as a bartender, covering up her intense anxiety with fake bravado and swagger. All Vivian wants is peace and quiet, but her whole trajectory changes when she stumbles upon a heinous crime in progress, and has to fight for her life to get away.

While recovering from the fight, she falls in love with someone who is tall in stature, but short on emotional intelligence, and this toxic union provides Vivian the relationship that she thinks she needs. Given Vivian’s insecurities and traumatic past, she clings to the relationship even while it destroys her.

Prone to fits of rage, the spiraling of Vivian’s temper creates a turning point for her as she looks within to find the peace she seeks.

Vivian’s alcoholic brother and emotionally devoid mother serve as frequent thorns in her side, prompting her turbulent history to often bubble up to the surface. The bubbling turns to a rolling boil when Vivian’s brother lands himself in jail for drunken indiscretions, and not long afterward her partner is arrested for something so atrocious Vivian cannot even fathom it. She is left pondering whether or not to believe that the person she loves could have committed such an inexcusable crime.

Vivian’s relationships are strained to their breaking points as she continues to seek balance. She turns to her best friend for support, only to be left empty handed and alone until she finds comradery and care from the last person she would have thought.

Warnings: This book contains sexually explicit material which is only suitable for mature readers, graphic violence, self-harm, abuse of a child by a parent, abuse by a sibling, alcohol abuse, and PTSD

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Excerpt

As I approached Road 27, I saw what looked like an old warehouse. It was all closed up, the metal siding rusty, the dirt lot empty and overgrown with Russian Thistle. It was perfect for a bio break.

I backed off the throttle and downshifted. The bike rapidly slowed under me. I pulled into the dirt lot and parked along the side of the structure. I killed the engine and hopped off quickly, yanking off my helmet and gloves.

My bladder was screaming for relief. I grabbed a tissue from my tank bag and jogged around to the east side of the building so I wouldn’t be seen from the road. Dropping trou, I squatted against the side of the building. The heat of the warm metal siding radiated through the back of my shirt. Once I was finished, I stood, buckling my belt as the relief washed over my body.

The building was surrounded by row crops, and a breeze blew across the fields. The distant Sierra Mountains wavered in the hot air.

It occurred to me an abandoned warehouse like that would be a great spot for geocaching and I walked slowly along the side of the building, looking for potential geocache hiding spots.

I rounded the far corner of the building and stopped in my tracks. I was startled to see a car parked about twenty feet away. It was a rusted-out old Honda Accord, its windows rolled down. The burgundy paint was oxidized, and strips of the headliner hung down, fluttering in the hot midday breeze.

Some faint shuffling sounds came from inside the warehouse, and I realized I was standing directly in front of a rusty pedestrian door. I took a few steps back. My hands tingled and I balled them into fists.

It’s just a farm worker getting some tools, dumbass.

But the hypervigilance that had kicked in would not go away. Something was off, and it made me bristle.

I reached down for my M16 sling and came up empty. I looked down at my boots on the dusty cracked ground. They were my scuffed-up riding boots, not military issue jump boots. My pants were denim, not BDU’s.

I slipped away to another hot, dusty day five years prior. A day when RPG’s and bullets filled the air rather than the sound of the breeze rustling crops. A day when blood was shed.

I took another step away from the building and forced myself to breathe. Breathe in the smell of freshly plowed soil, leather, gasoline, and the faint hint of a dung heap.

I slapped myself across the thighs, hard. Even through denim, the sound and sting of it helped bring me back. My thighs and palms burned. I did it again to make the point to myself.

The door to the warehouse opened, and a woman stepped out. She was wearing a tan backpack, whistling, and twirling a key ring on her fingertip as she walked toward a spigot near the door. Her long hair was brown and tightly permed. She was short but solid and moved like an athlete. Scanning her, I noticed that her hands and shirt were bloody. I coiled up inside, ready to fight.

The door closed heavily behind her, and she took a few more steps before looking up and spotting me. She stopped whistling as our eyes met.

I immediately shifted into a fighting stance. With no hesitation the woman charged at me. I got low and opened my arms because I didn’t have time to try a side slip. As soon as the woman plowed into me, I wrapped my arms tightly around her.

We went down hard. I wrapped my legs around her waist. Dust and grit were immediately in the air.

I had a hard time keeping a grip on her torso because of the backpack. I worked my arms up until the crook of my elbow was wrapped around the back of her neck, holding her as close as I could. She bucked and tried to roll out of my grip. I locked my right foot into the crook of my left knee and squeezed the woman’s guts. She grunted as I clamped my thighs down around her, restricting her ability to get a full breath. She was solid and strong, deep down in her core.

Adrenaline and rage surged through my body, and a clear lucidity took over. I was in my element, and apparently so was the woman I was hanging onto.

About the Author

AUTHOR PIC - Canopy - Liz Faraim

Liz Faraim is a recovering workaholic who has mastered multi-tasking, including balancing a day job, solo parenting, writing, and finding some semblance of a social life. In past lives she has been a soldier, a bartender, a shoe salesperson, an assistant museum curator, and even a driving instructor.

Liz writes contemporary fiction that highlights queer characters and often includes complex polyamorous relationships. Her writing has a hefty dose of soul searching and emotional turmoil while also taking the reader on fun adventures. She loves spending time in nature and does her best to share nature with her readers.

Social Media

Author Website: www.lizfarim.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/elizabeth.loud.16

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/liz.faraim.9

Author Twitter: @FaraimLiz

Giveaway

Liz is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour:

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LOGO - Other Worlds InkMEME3 - Canopy

Another triumphant polyamorous romance from K.M.

52377192._SY475_Four Letter Word by K.M. Neuhold

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

So good. K.M. is one of the best in the genre when it comes to writing believable multiple partner romances.

This polyamorous narrative is wonderfully done, with four unique characters who all have their own voice.

I loved getting to see inside each of their heads.

There’s loads of chemistry between them all and the different tensions with each of the four men in their mixed pairings were given good depth.

Loved it.

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

View all my reviews

New Release Blitz: Playing House by Suzanne Clay

Playing House by Suzanne Clay

Rough Play #2

Playing House Banner

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: March 23, 2020

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male, Male/Male Menage

Length: 80,500

Buy Links:

NineStar Press | Amazon

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Blurb

After six months deeply in love with each other, childhood best friends Logan and Christian are excited for their first summer away from home. With one year of college under their belts, they’re ready to grow up and see what the rest of their lives will be like together by strengthening their relationship over the next few months. But fate has never followed their neat plans.

Christian receives an opportunity to pursue one of his greatest unfulfilled passions: acting. It’s a chance to explore a talent his parents crushed before he could dream of spending his life studying it—but is he up to the challenge? Is it worth taking the risk, knowing his family won’t support him?

Logan struggles with his attachment to Christian and his fears of being left behind. If Christian’s career on the stage takes off, will he abandon Logan and replace him with far better lovers? And how can Logan be so hypocritical when another man has caught his eye? Or has that man perhaps captured Christian’s attention as well?

Their relationship will be tested far beyond their imagination—but love always has room to grow, even in the face of fear.

Excerpt

Excerpt
Playing House
Suzanne Clay © 2020
All Rights Reserved

Logan’s muscles ached like hell. It probably had something to do with the mountain of opened boxes sitting in the corner of the small bedroom. With the massive bed taking up the lion’s share of the sunshine-lit room, his empty moving boxes cluttered up the rest. Everything still wasn’t in its place, but he couldn’t be mad about it right now. This was home for the summer—away from Fulton State University.

Words couldn’t express how grateful he was not to be going back to the little town of Greenbarrow. God knew he’d have finer company here than there with his family.

The sound of footsteps crumpling plastic bags on the floor behind Logan made him speak. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“Don’t need to change when you’re perfect.” Christian’s familiar drawl had the same effect on Logan that it always did: a slow series of tingles drifted down his spine. “Don’t be roasting me on how I pack shit.”

“You make it so easy.” Logan turned around and pointed at the equally messy pile of empty bags. “That. Look at that. I’ll buy you suitcases, duffel bags, anything you want—just stop putting everything in a goddamn trash bag.”

Christian slung an arm around his shoulder and kissed his cheek. “How much does it cost to get you to stop running your mouth?”

Difficult to think of a price, really, when goose bumps were still skittering over his arms. He turned his head and found Christian’s mouth less than an inch away. “…half an hour of making out.”

“Done.”

With a solid shove to his back, Logan landed facedown on the bed, then grunted when Christian’s weight crashed down on him. Instincts kicked in—he dug his elbow into Christian’s side and shoved him away, then rolled away to get a better position for wrestling.

Six months of dating, and they still acted like they had every day of their thirteen years of friendship. It wasn’t an easy habit to break. For every kiss they shared, there was Christian pinning Logan down until he said uncle and swore he’d do the dishes that night. Each evening they snuggled in one of the tiny bunk beds in their dorm, and they couldn’t keep from shit-talking each other until their eyelids were heavy.

Weirdly, Logan thought being out of college for the summer would make their relationship a little more like a movie—soft, sweet, and romantic—but as he lunged for Christian and pinned an arm to his chest, he realized things might never change. And he was okay with that.

“I said making out,” Logan gritted out as he batted one of Christian’s massive hands away before it could grab his hair. “Not me kicking your ass again.”

Christian laughed breathlessly. He snagged the back of Logan’s neck. “This is just foreplay, baby, don’t be silly.”

Baby. He still wasn’t used to that either. The air caught in Logan’s chest long enough for Christian to put him on his back. With the sight of his stunning boyfriend rising above him, all dark skin and dangerous eyes and smirking lips, he didn’t much feel like fighting anymore.

Whatever energy was overflowing in Christian seemed to dissipate. He trailed the back of his fingers down Logan’s cheek, leaving a path of fire behind them. One finger snagged in the neckline of Logan’s T-shirt as Christian bit his bottom lip and sighed.

The mood changed fast with Christian, and Logan never knew how to keep up. Not even after all this time. All he could do was watch him with a sense of wonder and see what he was going to do.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to grab some food now that we’re done unpacking,” Christian murmured. He tugged at Logan’s shirt, and the hook in his belly yanked even harder. “Now I’m pretty sure I wanna eat you.”

Logan exhaled sharply. “You know you don’t gotta ask.”

Christian crashed down, their lips smashing together painfully, as he dug his fingers into Logan’s thick curls. As he shoved Logan back on the mattress to try to get better leverage, something fell to the floor, and Christian lifted his head with a huff. “The fuck is that? Are you already breaking shit?”

“Me?” Logan shoved him with a laugh, then rolled over to reach for the fallen binder. “C’mon, this is gonna make you feel old as fuck. You ready?”

“Aw, hell.” Christian lay on his side, head supported by his hand. “What’s this?”

Logan opened the binder. Inside were a few memories that he wouldn’t have shown anybody else for love or money—but Christian was different. He was the man he loved. And these little treasures included him too.

“Oh my God.” When Logan held a photograph toward Christian, he took it with another rough chuckle. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“So cute,” Logan teased, and Christian elbowed him.

It was an old, battered photo of Christian as a child in his first-ever church play. Some girl was trying to pull off her shoe in the background, and a boy was going completely off-script and pushing someone off the stage, but Christian stood very seriously at the front of the stage as he delivered some poorly written line or another.

“Jesus Christ,” Christian breathed, shaking his head, and Logan threw an arm around his waist with a grin, snuggling closer to see better. Christian scoffed. “Damn. Probably a good thing I never went after that shit. I look stupid.”

“You’re a kid. You all looked stupid.” Logan left a messy kiss on his cheek.

“Funny.” Christian set the photo aside, then pulled something out from the other sleeve of the binder. “What’s this?”

“Oh, that’s…” Logan reached to take it away, but Christian was sitting up out of reach. “Hey, c’mon—”

“Ooh, I remember now! Baby’s first monologue!”

Logan made another dive, driving Christian to his feet. “Don’t! It’s awful, man, give it.”

“Not a chance in hell!” Christian turned his back to him and began to recite. “Family. Is there any deeper hell than family? Is there—”

Logan couldn’t listen to a word. With strength he hadn’t used since they’d started dating, he practically crawled up Christian’s shoulders and snatched the paper away with such force that he ripped it free from the fingerhold of paper Christian had. “No, we’re throwing this shit away right now.” The mere memory of how enthralled he’d been by Christian performing it when they were teenagers was embarrassing.

“Hey, hey.” Christian grabbed Logan’s shoulders, but when he didn’t reach for the paper again, Logan stayed still, tension in his chest. “Just ’cuz we were young and awful when we did that shit don’t mean we shouldn’t keep it. Remember where we came from. You know?”

Logan scoffed an unamused laugh. Yeah, great to keep it around when we’re never gonna get to follow those dreams again. Right.

“Logan?”

“Just put it away, man.” He offered the paper over his shoulder, then turned his head to watch and make sure Christian did as he asked instead of being an asshole.

The knock on the door drew Logan’s attention back to the present. “Yeah?”

“Hey, it’s me!”

“Just Noah,” Christian said absently. “Who the fuck else would it be?”

“Shut up.” Logan laughed, but moved to open the door.

“Hey!” Noah grinned up at him, flushed from his own exertions of unpacking. “Just wanted to let you know we’ve got cookies!”

“Cookies?”

“Yep! From Daiki.” Noah gestured behind him, and Logan leaned until he could see a bouquet of sweets set up on the tiny, scratched dining room table. “He sent a note too. He says he wishes he could be here.”

The bed creaked behind Logan as Christian spoke. “You’re actually sharing your boyfriend’s cookies with both of us? Now, that’s friendship.”

Noah chuckled. “It’s not that big a sacrifice—I can’t eat that many anyway.” He blinked. “I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I?”

“Nah,” Christian drawled. “We were having a walk down memory lane. Then I thought I’d maybe fuck Logan’s brains out. The usual.”

Logan turned his head, cheeks flaming. “Shut up!”

“Just saying.” Christian shrugged.

“Oh! Uh. Right. Right.” Noah stepped back into the hallway, his hands raised. “You know what? I think I’m going to run to the grocery store, so, uh, if you guys need anything, just text me, I’ll pick it up, no problem…” He was still talking as he grabbed his keys and walked straight out the front door.

Christian immediately burst out laughing, grabbing his bare stomach. “Did you see the look on his face?”

“Oh, you don’t think he’s entitled? Are you just gonna announce every time you wanna fuck me?” Logan shut the door and went for his belt with a roll of his eyes. Christian might be obnoxious sometimes, but it didn’t stop the fact that his gut was stirred up, eager for a distraction from the binder Christian had tossed to the floor.

The look Christian gave him—dripping with heat and invitation—scalded Logan’s skin. Christian licked his lips, his gaze drifting down, down, down, until it rested on Logan’s hands. “Well, it’s just damn polite, ain’t it? Unless you don’t want me to. You want him to be surprised when he sits there and hears us fuck every time?”

That was a bizarre thought, one that made Logan snort and roll his eyes and completely ignore the lift of carbonated bubbles in his chest, around his heart. No, instead of thinking about it, Logan kicked his pants off and crawled on top of Christian and got caught up in how goddamn lucky he was. He’d spent months thinking he’d never get to have this, but here they were, safe in their own bedroom, with a bed they could sleep in side by side and a roommate who wasn’t going to throw a fit if they made love to each other in the middle of a weekend afternoon. As far as Logan was concerned, there was nothing ahead of them but hope and light.

He was lucky—too lucky—and he refused to think about what might happen if that luck ever ran out.

About the Author

Suzanne is an asexual woman with a great love for writing erotica and enjoys spending her time confusing people with that fact. She believes there is a need for heightened diversity in erotic fiction and strives to write enough stories so that everyone can see themselves mirrored in a protagonist.

She lives with her husband and cat, and, when not writing, Suzanne enjoys reading, playing video games poorly, and refusing to interact outdoors with other human beings.

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