Tag Archives: trans

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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COVER - Canopy

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

MEME2 - Canopy

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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Blog Tour: A Fine Mess by Angel Martinez

A Fine Mess | Angel Martinez

Brimstone #7

BANNER - A Fine Mess

Release Date: July 28th, 2020

Publisher: Mischief Corner Books

Length: 80,000 words

Cover Artist: Freddy MacKay

Buy Links

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08BNHYM3C/

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/a-fine-mess-14

Apple:https://books.apple.com/us/book/a-fine-mess/id1520850079

B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-fine-mess-angel-martinez/1137247311

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/a-fine-mess-brimstone-book-7-by-angel-martinez

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/54253395-a-fine-mess

COVER - A Fine Mess

Blurb

Beware the demon prince who’s sick and tired of running.

Federico Duomo is dead, to begin with. But this is only the first bit of Shax’s problems resolved. Powerful crime lords and an obscenely wealthy oligarch are still determined to destroy him and his crew, and Fluffy’s original owner may be coming after the Brimstone now, too. It would be splendid to be able to take on one thing at a time.

Adding to the external conflicts, life on board the Brimstone has only grown increasingly stranger. Shax has no idea what to do with the seven partly human children that Heckle rescued from slavers. Heckle himself has grown short-tempered, even with Mac. Someone from Julian’s past catches up to them on Barbary. It’s enough to put a demon off his cinnamon buns.

Shax isn’t panicking, though. In fact, he’s had it up to his handsome royal nose with the people he loves having to live in constant fear. The fox has turned at bay and the Brimstone’s enemies are in for a shock. The demon prince of thieves is coming for them.

Warnings: Some violence and one group of very creepy hell denizens

Series Blurb

Due to circumstances completely within his control, Shax, the Demon Prince of Thieves, has fled, er, emigrated from Earth to seek his fortunes out in the galaxy. Who said Science Fiction always has to be serious?

1- Potato Surprise

2 – Hell for the Company

3 – Fear of Frogs

4 – Shax’s War

5 – Beside a Black Tarn

6 – The Hunt for Red Fluffy

Excerpt

Chapter One

“Captain Cream Puff, Glkix is on the line for you.” Ms. Ivana kept her voice to a throaty purr, probably in deference to the early hour.

While Shax had been expecting the call, he would’ve preferred at least one more cup of coffee beforehand. “Thank you, my dear. Put her through to my comm, please.”

He arranged himself in his desk chair to appear calm and unaffected, coffee mug in one hand for any necessary sardonic or thoughtful sipping. A brief flicker through the relays, and Glkix’s image hovered above the holo plate on his desk. Her blue-black hair swept up and pinned with obsidian, her gray-green face smooth and serene, his mother’s personal assistant was as elegant as ever. Few people would have picked up the tightness around her eyes, and only if they’d known her as long as Shax had. Not good news, then.

“Good morning, highness. Your royal mother sends greetings.”

“Thank you, Glkix. Please convey my filial greetings in return.” Shax’s nerves got the better of him. He sipped. “You have something for me?”

Incomprehensible data flowed across the screen as Glkix typed. “We were able to track her genetic material through registered bloodlines and make discreet inquiries regarding missing stock. Her lineage is well-documented and highly prized among certain demon lords, highness.”

Is this flattery or an explanation of methodology? Sometimes it’s so hard to tell. “Yes? Do you have an answer, or is this just an update on progress?”

Glkix cleared her throat, eyes glued to the data stream. “An answer, highness. Your hellcat belongs to Baphomet, Lord of Beasts.”

Hell’s shiny, pointy gates. Inside, Shax ran in little circles screaming. Outwardly, he sipped. “I see. Does he know I have her?”

“Abject apologies, highness. I’ve little data on that.” Glkix ducked in a strange sort of seated bow. “We know that Lord Baphomet was visiting a forested moon near Opal when the hellcat in question—”

“Fluffy.”

“Pardon, highness?”

Though he knew she’d never approved of his names for his pets, he persisted. “My hellcat’s name is Fluffy.”

Glkix cringed. “Er. Yes. When Fluffy was stolen from her pride.”

“Do we know by whom?”

“No, highness. Not yet.”

Shax drummed his fingers on his mug and forced himself not to sip. Control. Control. “And m’lord of beasts? Where is he now?”

“Hunting, highness. In his ship, Cornuta.” Glkix shook her head. “We are trying to redirect wherever possible, Prince Shax.”

“Understood.” All too well. “Thank you for the information. Mother can’t possibly be paying you enough.”

“I live to serve, highness.” She executed her seated bow again, and Shax cut the connection.

Carefully, he placed his mug on the desk. Pushed back his chair. Bent over his knees and screamed into his hands for a solid forty-five seconds.

Of course, he should have known better. Boots pounded down the corridor almost before he’d stopped, and his door whooshed open. Through his fingers, he spotted Ness in the doorway with his wings mantled in a fierce defensive position and his plasma pistol drawn. Julian, knives out, slid in under Ness’s wing and dove behind the trunk Shax had pulled from the closet earlier.

“Shax? Everything all right?” Ness ventured after a stunned and puzzled silence.

Julian vaulted the trunk to sit on its lid. “We thought something was murdering you.”

“No murders.” Shax sat up and forced himself to draw in a slow breath. “Not yet, at any rate.”

Instead of acknowledging him, Ness turned to Julian. “I don’t think it was an angry scream.”

“Right.” Julian nodded. “No prince-in-a-snit smoke. I’d say frustration, except there was definitely a squeaky note to it.”

“You’re both vastly entertaining and should consider taking this on the road.” Shax scowled at each in turn. “But this is serious.”

Ness flipped and reflipped his wings as he folded them before sitting on the bunk. “Perhaps you could enlighten us, love.”

“Fluffy…” Shax paused as the hellcat in question trotted through the open door to butt her head against him almost hard enough to knock him from his chair. “Yes, you’re a good girl. Who’s the best Fluffums? Ahem. Fluffy was stolen from Baphomet.”

“I’m gathering that’s not good.” Ness let her waving tail run through his hand, careful of the sickle blade on the end, his expression unreadable.

“ISE lists Lord Baphomet as a class IV demon lord. Not of the highest rank, so he’s able to leave Sol system,” Julian offered softly. “Unpredictable, motivations unclear; do not, under any circumstances, engage.”

“While Enforcement and I disagree on many things, that’s a frighteningly apt assessment.” Mug back in hand, Shax took a fortifying sip. “He may be hunting us and, I’ll be honest, this is definitely cause for alarm. Mum and Glkix have apparently been sending him off in various directions, but he will find us at some point.”

The crinkle in Ness’s forehead showed the first sign of real concern. “Is he family? Do you know him well?”

Shax waved a hand at the universe. “All demon lords are family in a sense. I don’t believe we’re directly related, mind you. And Mum would never allow association with the more, ah, nature-oriented demons. Mud and dust and sticks in your hair…”

“That’s a no, then,” Julian drawled. “This may sound absurd to you, our lovely prince, but could you contact him? Let him know what happened?”

A cold iron weight lodged in Shax’s stomach and the backs of his eyes burned as he choked out, “But he’ll want Fluffy back.”

Everyone lunged toward him with huffs and other distressed sounds, and he found himself surrounded by arms and wings, with a huge hellcat head in his lap.

“Shax. I’m so sorry,” Julian whispered. “Please don’t cry.”

“I most certainly am not.” Of course, a hot teardrop chose that moment to splash onto Julian’s hand.

Ness stroked his hair. “We know you love her. But she had a pride once, didn’t she? Maybe a family?”

“Of course.” Shax shook himself and swiped at his eyes. Part of him wanted to collapse against them and howl like a six-year-old demon, but he was the captain, and there was such a thing as dignity. “Of course. And better to inform him than to have him come after us in a rage. I’ll… send the message.”

AUTHOR PIC - A Fine Mess - Angel Martinez

About The Author

Angel Martinez is the pen name of a writer of several genres who writes both kinds of queer fiction – Science Fiction and Fantasy. (What? There are others?) Currently living part time in the hectic sprawl of northern Delaware, (and full time inside the author’s head).

Angel has one husband, one son, at least one cat at any given time, a changing variety of other furred and scaled companions, a love of all things beautiful and a terrible addiction to the consumption of both knowledge and chocolate.

Social Media

Author Website: https://angelmartinezauthor.weebly.com/

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/amartinez2

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/Angel.Martinez.author/

Author Twitter: https://twitter.com/AngelMartinezrr

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1010469.Angel_Martinez

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/angel-martinez/

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Angel-Martinez/e/B001KHMFTG

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Giveaway

Angel is giving away a $25 Mischief Corner Books Gift Card with this tour.

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Release Blitz: Power Inversion by Sara Codair

Power Inversion | Sara Codair

Evanstar Chronicles #2

BANNER2 - Power Inversion

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: Monday, June 22nd, 2020

Length: 84,000

Cover Artist: Natasha Snow

Buy Links:

Publisher: https://ninestarpress.com/product/power-inversion/

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08BF1KP2C

B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/power-inversion-sara-codair/1137213317?ean=2940164399986

Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/50517249-power-inversion

COVER - Power Inversion

Blurb

Do you have to be a monster to fight one?

Erin Evanstar is a demon hunter, a protector of humanity from nightmarish predators that feed on people’s fears and flesh. They are settling into their dual life of being a teen and hunting demons.

When a tentacled horror abducts Erin’s partner, José, Erin and their family go on the hunt to get him back. But Erin gets an ultimatum: help the Fallen Angels bring on the apocalypse or watch José die. Erin will do anything to save José, but fighting monsters comes with a grim price–becoming one themselves.

Trigger Warnings: Violence, Death, Death of a Minor Character, Temporary Death of a Main Character, Mention of Past Abuse, Mention of Miscarriage, Pregnancy of Side Character, Self-harm, Suicidal Ideation, Guns, Grief, Kidnapping/abduction, alcohol use, brief depiction of humans enslaved by a supernatural creature

Excerpt

White graduation caps fell from the sky like flakes of vaporized Demon. High school was a beast, and I’d vanquished it like every monster I’d fought, with one exception—myself.

This moment deserved savoring.

Breathing deliberately, I slowed my perception of time until the caps seemed as if they were falling through cold honey on their way to the ground.

The late-spring sun beat down on me, but a breeze kept the temperature bearable. Some tassels lilted southeast—away from the towering clouds bruising the northwest sky. The weather wasn’t going to hold much longer, but I was okay with that. Thunderstorms awoke something wild in me—a pulse-racing, dance-around-like-no-one-can-see-you kind of wild—a rush of adrenaline almost as good as what I’d get from battling a Troll or sparring with Mel.

With my sense of time slowed down, the distant thunder sounded like a lion purring. The clouds glowed purple as lightning forked through them like an X-ray, temporarily revealing a mass of tentacles undulating in the clouds.

Mel, did you see that? I thought as loudly as I could, hoping my telepathic cousin would hear me.

I’d seen a lot of different Demons in the three months I’d been hunting them, but based on the stories and the Lexicon, the massive tentacled ones only materialized in oceans, and they certainly could not fly. Yet, every time lightning flashed, there they were, waving as if violent updrafts were a gentle breeze.

My heart sped up. My hands closed into fists. Mel didn’t reply.

I shut my eyes, opening my mind so I could feel all the energy around me. Most humans were blobs of buzzing heat, but Mel, a hybrid of human, Angel, and Elf, had a hotter, more intense aura with a spritz of simultaneously depressed and optimistically peppy texture. I found her near my Elven grandmother, who felt like a condensed thunderstorm.

Mel? Niben? Can you hear me? Did you see that?

Of course, there was a good chance they were both shielding. What telepath would have their mind open to other people’s thoughts when there were so many other people around?

One who hasn’t been able to properly shield in months. Mel’s melodic yet squeaky voice was a welcome presence in my mind. Shut down the hyper drive. You’re giving me a headache.

I exhaled over the course of ten seconds, willing my sense of time back to normal.

A garbled din of stretched-out voices morphed to something more akin to a clattering avalanche of pots and pans. A shoulder jostled mine. The corner of a graduation cap crashed into my head.

Erin? What had you wanted to tell me?

There were tentacles in the clouds, I thought at Mel, turning in the general direction I sensed her in.

I crashed into José, who, of course, stood right next to me.

“You okay?” he asked. Tears glistened in his midnight eyes and trickled down his sun-kissed cheeks. One snagged on the crooked tip of his nose. He clutched two graduation caps, his and mine, so tight that the scars on his knuckles were visibly stretched.

“Yeah. Are you?” I wondered if I should tell him what I’d seen. He’d been hunting Demons longer than me, but he also thrived on keeping school and the supernatural as two separate entities. And what if they hadn’t been tentacles? What if the storm had just appeared that way with the lightning in slow motion? I didn’t want to ruin his day if there wasn’t an actual threat.

“I’ll miss everyone.” He stuffed the caps under his arms and hugged me. While I wanted to celebrate because I’d made it out alive, he mourned the loss of a place that had been a haven to him for four years.

I leaned my head on his shoulder, listening to his heartbeat, trying to let his steady warmth calm the worry growing in my mind. José’s body was a rock in the sense that it was hard and athletic, but also because it anchored me when I felt as if my mind was running away.

Have you ever watched a storm with time slowed that much? asked Mel.

I shook my head before I remembered there were dozens of people between her and me. No. Do storm clouds in slow motion look like tentacles?

José kissed my hair and whispered, “Are you talking to Mel?”

I nodded.

“Is she okay?”

“She’s having trouble shielding. We should go meet up with her and the others anyway.” I stepped away from him and walked uphill.

Students, who wore white graduation robes, and their parents, who were dressed mostly in summer dresses, slacks, and collared shirts, were clumped all over Saint Patrick’s sprawling lawn.

José draped his arm over my shoulder as I wove around groups of people. The pressure was calming, lulling panic monsters back to sleep with its warm weight. I glanced up at the clouds. They were closer and darker. The wind sped up, stealing programs from a dozen people’s hands. The clouds lit up with lightning, but I didn’t see any tentacles.

Mel’s voice popped back into my head. I don’t sense anything in the clouds, and neither does Niben. I guess she’s been restraining the storm for half the ceremony. Perhaps you were seeing her power mingled with it?

Maybe. Some tension unraveled from my chest. I’d heard stories about my grandmother, Niben, controlling storms, but I’d never seen her do it. In fact, I’d never witnessed her do any magic unless she was modeling something she wanted me to try. She’d come on a few hunts, but she’d just watched with her unblinking feline eyes and later quizzed me on what I did right and wrong. For all I knew, her fabled storm magic could resemble tentacles.

BANNER1 - Power Inversion

About The Author

no glasses rock headshot arms crossed

Sara Codair is an author of short stories and novels, which are packed with action, adventure, magic, and the bizarre. They partially owe their success to their faithful feline writing partner, Goose the Meowditor-In-Chief, who likes to “edit” their work by deleting entire pages.

If Sara isn’t writing, they’re probably teaching, swimming in the lake, reading fantasy, or walking their dog.

Social Media

Author Website: https://saracodair.com/

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/SaraCodair1

Author Twitter: https://twitter.com/ShatteredSmooth

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/shatteredsmooth/

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15858102.Sara_Codair

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Sara-Codair/e/B072L4C869/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1

 Giveaway

Sara is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card with this blog tour.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

MEME2 - Power Inversion

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