RELEASE BLITZ: “Wounded Ink” by Sky McCoy

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Wounded Inked

Author and Publisher: Sky McCoy

Cover Artist: Coverinked

Release Date: January 15, 2021

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance

Trope/s: Straight to Gay, Hurt/Heal, Fake Boyfriend

Themes: Coming out, forgiveness

Heat Rating: 5 flames

Length: 60,000 words/200 pages

It is book 1 in the Wounded Inked Series.

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Blurb

“How can I explain this? There’s really no explanation for the way I feel. It’s beyond me. Maybe it happened on my last tour of duty, where I’d been wounded in the leg, spent months in the VA hospital with nothing but therapy, and reading love letters to pass the time, or to keep me sane.

The letters weren’t from my wife, but an admirer. I hadn’t heard from my wife in months. I think her last note informed me that she’d moved on, taking our dog with her, and filed for a divorce. I guess she couldn’t handle a damaged man without a job, with little or no income, and coming home.

Now it’s time for me to accept that I’m a broken man. I’ve lost my identity because I was a soldier, a leader of men, and all I have now are these few love letters from a strange woman to give me comfort.

Can this woman be as broken as I am? What will it take to make me whole—two broken pieces coming together?”

What will happen when Tony falls in love because of a few letters and texts only to discover that the person behind the letters isn’t who he imagined?

The “Wounded Inked” 3 book series contain hurt/ comfort, straight to gay, and fake boyfriend with HFN, and HEA in the final book.

 

Excerpt

Prologue

Tony

I’d just received a letter I had been anxiously waiting for. Just when I’d given up and I knew I had to get some sleep, because of the mission in front of me, and because my men needed me more tomorrow than ever before, I got this ray of hope through the letter I held doggedly in my hand. I wanted to take the time to sit and read it, savor every word, every phrase, and every time Sergeant appeared on the paper.

My men called me Sergeant, but it meant something different to them. I was their leader, I was their mentor, I was the one who would teach them and bring them home.

We were marines and we left no one on the battlefield, no one behind, and especially not our hearts, because our hearts were with the ones we loved. My heart had been shattered early on when I received what they called a Dear John letter. With every letter coming through the mail, from a special unknown woman, my heart began to come together.

I needed a clear head more now than I’d ever needed one before, because this would be my last mission.

My squad had to travel into this town, relieve another squad of marines, and I wouldn’t be able to receive mail or my care package, therefore, receiving this letter now meant so much to me. After I read it, I placed it next to my heart, because it would be the final one for a month or more.

The first words of that letter caught my eyes and I turned, looking to the side as if I was a squirrel hiding a precious acorn that would last until winter when I’d need something to sustain me. That something was this letter I held tightly, keeping the wind and the sand, or the helicopters bringing in supplies from dislodging it from my fist.

Lights strung everywhere provided what I needed to see the words scrawled carefully on

the paper. Repeating the words with a smile, I murmured to myself as I read, “I’ll give you a kiss. It’s my secret to you, because if you were here beside me, my lips would whisper in your ear, I love you.”

Holy fuck! Did she just write that? My cock twitched and I moaned, looking around to see if anyone had heard me. With all the noise, how could they? I rationalized. Fuck me, but my cock hadn’t responded to anything in months. Let alone words on a paper.

There was no way I could feel something for somebody I’ve never met. I didn’t understand what could be going on with me. Maybe I’ve been out here too long, and I’ll feel different once I get home.

 

About the Author

I write steamy gay romance books, and I love to read hot M/M romance. Maybe steamy is too mild a term for my books. Maybe I should say that my gay romance books are hot, hot, hot. I enjoy writing about strong, flawed men who don’t mind saying they’re sorry when they hurt the ones they love.

I read and write across genres and what gives me pleasure, and there is nothing more pleasurable or satisfying to me than to write a happy ever after hot M/M romance with a kink or two.

My favorite books to read are anything M/M and vampires, werewolves, mystery, and steamy romance. I have been busy with reading and writing to bring you the best M/M romance books. Enjoy!

 

Social Media Links

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BOOK BLAST: “Fast, Free, and Flying” by Jude Tresswell

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: Fast, Free and Flying (County Durham Quad, #6)

Author: Jude Tresswell

Publisher: Self-published (KDP)

Release Date: December 9, 2020

Genre/s: Contemporary gay mystery

Trope/s: Ace/non-ace relationships

Themes:  Compromise; guilt; revenge

Heat Rating:  1 flame

Length: 63 000 words

The mystery story stands alone. Helpful, but not essential, to have read a previous title due to character development.

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Suspects of one crime. Victims of another.

 

Blurb

Drones lie at the heart of this mystery facing Mike, Ross, Raith and Phil, four men who live in North-East England.

A spate of art-related burglaries and a series of horrific kidnaps have occurred. The freedom of the quad, and that of Nick, their special friend, is threatened by involvement in both cases. They are suspected of one and Mike is a victim of the other. The officer in charge is the quad’s old enemy, the homophobic Chief Inspector Fortune. Should the quad set aside their distrust and tell him what they know?

Meanwhile, Nick has issues of his own to consider. Compromises are needed, but how many? 

This is the sixth tale in the County Durham Quad series. Background is included to aid new readers.

 

Excerpt

From Chapter 1

(The whole chapter, read by the author with aerial footage of the setting, is available on YouTube. Link below) 

A new sound had been added to the rustic ones that normally formed the backdrop to life in the Durham hills. Instead of the bleating of sheep, there was a whirring—and it came from the sky. The quad’s new video channel was up and running, and Raith, plus drone, was filming everything and everyone. He was, as he liked to put it, “Doing the rounds.”

   “Doin’ my head in,” was how it seemed to Mike and, right then, there was a danger of that actually happening. Mike was responsible for nearly all the quad’s maintenance work. He was sitting astride a rooftop, replacing the flashing on one of Tunhead’s chimneys. Tunhead was the little hamlet where the quad lived. It was the seat of BOTWAC, the Beck On The Wear Arts Centre, and the video channel was designed, in part, to promote the artisans’ wares.

   “Watch what you’re doin’ with that bloody thing!” Mike yelled from his perch.

   “It’s alright, Mike. I’m in full control,” Raith yelled back.

   “Not from where I am, you’re not! I thought you weren’t supposed to fly it over buildin’s!”

   Raith made the drone whizz round in a circle and shouted, “Well Tunhead doesn’t really count as buildings, does it? I mean, twelve tiny houses, my studio and a disused church. It’s hardly buildings.”

   “It felt like buildin’s when Ross and I were refurbishin’ it all, and it felt like buildin’s three years ago when I knocked the walls through to next door just to give you leg room.”

   “That’s building, Mike, not buildings.”

   Sometimes, there was no answer to Raith’s logic. Mike swore softly, sighed and decided to wait until tea-time, when all the men would be home together. They’d discuss Raith and his drone then. First things first. He continued repairing the chimney.

***

   In Tees, Tyne and Wear Constabulary’s new Tyneside police station, another drone-related conversation had caused heated words that day. The woman making a complaint was angry.

   “Look,” she said to the officer on the front counter, “this is the third time it’s happened in a fortnight. I ignored the first invasion of my privacy. The second time the blesséd thing was hovering overhead, I telephoned. I was told that someone would contact me. Nobody’s done so, and this morning it happened again. I want something doing. I feel I can’t go into my own garden and I’m bothered that whoever’s doing this is spying on me and my children. It’s horrible and it shouldn’t be allowed.”

   The woman had good reason to feel harassed. She lived in what had once been the lodge of a large country estate. That is, she occupied the house that lay at one end of a long, tree-lined drive. The drive led, through parkland with trees and an ornamental lake, to a substantial eighteenth century property. On three occasions recently, the peace of the surroundings had been broken by the whirring of a drone. More importantly, she felt intimidated by the drone’s presence. As she said, she felt she was being spied on. Surely that was a crime?

   It was, the official told her. At least two different offences connected with drone misuse might be invoked on the woman’s behalf, but, in a case like hers, invoking them was problematic. Even if an incident should happen again and a patrol car could reach her while the drone was still visible and airborne, there was little that officers could do. Firstly, they would need to locate and identify the flyer. If they felt that a harassment offence had been committed, they could instruct the flyer to land the drone. However, there was no power of seizure and, indeed, no power to even view the footage unless there was suspected terrorist activity—unlikely in this case. The woman had to be content with an apology and a promise that an officer would definitely come and visit her. In fact, a detective called a few days later, but not specifically because of her case. By then, the big country house had been burgled, and thousands of pounds of silver, porcelain and artwork had been stolen.

 

About the Author 

Jude Tresswell lives in south-east England but was born and raised in the north, and that’s where her heart is. She is ace, and has been married to the same man for many years. She feels that she understands compromise. She supports Liverpool FC, listens to a lot of blues music and loves to write dialogue.

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RELEASE BLITZ: “The First Boy I Ever Kissed” by Suki Fleet

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: The First Boy I Ever Kissed

Author: Suki Fleet

Publisher: Stars and Ink Press

Cover Artist: Suki Fleet

Release Date: January 11, 2021

Genre: Contemporary New Adult M/M 

Trope/s: . Second Chances, Friends to Lovers, I have always loved you

Themes: Second chances, Bi awakening

Heat Rating: 3-4 flames (not frequent but detailed)

Length: 35 000  words

It is a standalone story.

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Kim was the first boy Tommy ever kissed. The only person he’s been in love with.

But Kim broke Tommy’s heart when he left without a word. Can Tommy give him a second chance?

 

Blurb

It’s been over two years since Tommy’s heart was broken. Two years since Kim vanished from his life without a word. 

Kim was the first boy he’d ever kissed. The only person he’s been in love with. He’d thought they were starting something when he showed his feelings on prom night, and they shared their perfect messy kiss, but he’d been wrong. He never saw Kim again. Until tonight when joy riders crash into the warehouse complex where he works. 

Kim’s life is a mess. For two years he’s been involved with a criminal gang, trying to protect his mum from harm. He knows he has nothing to offer. But seeing Tommy again gives him the strength to try. If only Tommy wasn’t leaving the day after tomorrow to go travelling around the world. If only tonight wasn’t all they had. 

 

Excerpt 

It’s almost Christmas Day—surely, he’s got somewhere else to be, other people to be with? People far more important to him than me. I think again of the girl with the green braids. The sharp-eyed way she watched him as he gave a false name to the police. Wherever his life is at, ramming a four-by-four into a warehouse complex and then being arrested has got to build up some serious tension. Maybe he needs to let off a bit of steam too. Maybe that’s what this is.

I take my time cycling down the rough track to the park. I’ve popped a tyre before on the glass that’s scattered around here, and my fingers are too frozen to be fiddling around with fixing on a spare.  

As soon as we make it into the skatepark’s tiny car park, Kim hops off the bike. I find myself still wanting to feel his arms around me. The ache of it. Like the past has a weight, a texture, and it’s all him. 

God, what am I doing? This is such a bad idea. Spending time with him is just going to hurt, I know it is, and here I am just about offering myself up to it like a masochist.

He scrambles to the top of the little grassy hill surrounding the park. “God, I’ve missed this place.” 

The wistfulness in his voice surprises me. I follow him up with my bike. He turns to me, pulls off my massive gloves, hands them to me in my helmet, then holds his arms out, races down to the centre of the second biggest ramp, and starts spinning. Spinning and spinning, his head flung back, hair flying. He looks seventeen again. Young. Wild. Free.  

For a moment whatever shadows are haunting him are chased far away. And my heart aches and aches.

I remember the first time I saw him, swinging on the metal railing by the coffee shack near the smaller ramps with a couple of girls from school. He was laughing, head thrown back like it is now, pink hair falling away from his narrow face, sharp white teeth flashing, the whole of him vibrating with some wild aliveness I’d never seen in anyone else. Still haven’t. Too involved in watching him, I forgot what I was doing and nearly killed myself, lost control of my bike in the middle of a turn and crashed face first into the ramp. Later, I told myself I’d been so transfixed because I didn’t know whether he was a boy or a girl. But, of course, it wasn’t true. It took a long time for me to realise that though. 

That was the summer I finished my GCSEs. I was fifteen. Kim was new. He’d moved from another school across town. I never asked him why.

Back then the skatepark was full from sunrise till late into the night, and Kim hung around almost as often as I did. He made friends quickly, and though I watched him all the time and caught him watching me, I remained clueless. Maybe if I’d have worked out sooner that I was bi, things would’ve been different. I don’t know. 

Leaving Kim spinning, I clip my helmet in place, toss my gloves next to my backpack on the frozen ground, and take off down the biggest ramp, doing a few sharp turns at the top to warm up. 

“I used to love watching you,” he yells. “You ride like the water flowing in a river.”

It’s ridiculous how buoyed up his words make me feel, and I flush. I’m too old to be showing off at the skatepark, trying to impress some boy I know is watching every jump I make, and still I do it, taking my bike through a few 360 tailwhips. Making it look casual, easy, though it’s not, but that’s the trick. Isn’t that always the trick?

Limbs vibrating with adrenaline, I skid to a stop in front of him. “Get on.”

Kim’s eyes widen. “You’re going to kill us if you jump with me on your bike.” But still he gets on.

I laugh. “Still up for anything, eh?”

“With you, yeah.” His arms fasten around me, and he plasters himself close. “I’ve missed you, you know?”

Has he? I stiffen a little. I can’t let myself believe him, not just like that, because, no, I don’t know. But I don’t say that. I don’t say anything. My feelings are too jumbled to work out how to respond. Instead I focus on the things I do know and take us swooping down the big ramp and up the other side. I’m not about to do any tricks with Kim on my bike. He’s right, it’d probably kill us, plus I only have the one helmet. But it’s just nice riding around with him like this, even though I’m not sure how I feel right now. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers after a while, his arms squeezing me a little tighter like he’s afraid I’m suddenly going to stop and shove him off. “I’m really fucking sorry. I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me.”

“I don’t hate you,” I say quietly. Of course I don’t. How could I ever hate him? I kind of suspect in forty years’ time, if I’m still around, I’ll still get this sharp pain in my chest when I think about him.

 

About the Author 

Suki Fleet is an award-winning author, a prolific reader (though less prolific than they’d like), and a lover of angst, romance and unexpected love stories.

They write lyrical stories about memorable characters and believe everyone should have a chance at a happy ending.

Their first novel This is Not a Love Story won Best Gay Debut in the 2014 Rainbow Awards, and was a finalist in the 2015 Lambda Awards. Their novel Foxes won Best Gay Young Adult in the 2016 Rainbow Awards.

 

Social Media Links

Blog/Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter @SukiFleet

  Instagram  |  Newsletter Sign-up

 

 

Giveaway

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one of five ebook copies from the author’s backlist.

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RELEASE BLITZ: “Blood Winter”

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Blood Winter

Author: S.J. Coles

Publisher: Pride Publishing

Release Date: December 29, 2020

Genre/s: Contemporary M/M Paranormal/Vampire Romance

Trope/s: Forbidden love, enemies to lovers, stuck together, rural romance

Themes: Healing, belonging, finding acceptance, alternate reality

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 71 797 words/ 266 pages

There is a sequel planned.

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Buy Links

Pride Publishing | Amazon US | Amazon UK

 

Vampires are attempting to integrate into human society.

When Alec MacCarthy first meets a ‘haemophile’ in the flesh, it’s not the obvious dangers that frighten him.

 

Blurb

Alec MacCarthy, Lord of Aviemore and largely-forgotten descendent of a once-proud family line, keeps the wolf from the door of the crumbling family mansion by restoring classic cars.

He leaves the real world alone and wishes nothing more than for it to return the favor. But in a reality where haemophiles—still colloquially known as vampires, despite the publicity campaigns—have come out of hiding and are attempting to integrate into human society, the real world is rapidly becoming a disrupted and conflicted mess that threatens to trouble even Alec in his remote Scottish hideaway.

When he unwittingly attends a Blood Party to please a friend, he has his first meeting with one of these mysterious and dangerous beings. Terje is like nothing he has ever encountered before…literally. His reactions are as troublesome as they are undeniable.

Alec’s snap decision to help the haemophile rather than sample his sense-heightening and addictive blood sets them both on a path that will lead them into a tangled web of intrigue with consequences that will change their lives—and the world—forever.

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of violence, murder, kidnapping, blood stealing, drug use, addiction and blood drinking.

 

Excerpt

“You have questions.” He sat and uncorked the bottle. The electric lantern made his pale skin glow. It shone off his high cheekbones and the lines of his neck. His mouth was soft, his lips slightly curved, even at rest. I remembered it open, redder than blood, the teeth shockingly white and sharp. I remembered his hands, strong enough to crack the wood of the basement door, strong enough to break Brody’s bones. But now he sat easily in my kitchen chair, regarding me steadily with calm, entrancing eyes. He was terrifying, but he was beautiful, like a freezing winter morning in the very heart of the mountains. I bridled at the thought and dropped my gaze to the tabletop.

“How old are you?” I heard myself ask.

“Not old enough to have known Jacob More,” he said, with something like amusement in his voice.

“That’s not an answer.”

He still didn’t smile but something like humor flickered in the dark depths of his eyes. “I don’t know exactly. Over eighty, less than a hundred.”

“How do you not know how old you are?”

He lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “You stop counting after a while.” I narrowed my eyes and his mouth twitched. “And, well…at the time, it wasn’t considered important where I’m from.” His brow creased slightly, his eyes far away. “I remember the Second World War but not the first. Do I get to ask a question now?”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, regarding him closely and trying not to think about the fluttering in my belly. “What question?”

“Is this really your home?”

“Why?”

He tilted his chin slightly. “I knew you must live here when we arrived. I could smell it. But the place looks like it belongs to someone else.”

Something prickled over the skin of my back. “Again, why do you care?”

“Just curious, like you.”

“I’m not curious about you,” I said in tight voice. “That’s not what this is.”

He inclined his head. “Very well. You don’t have to answer. Next question?”

I picked at a splinter on the table, not looking at him. “Daylight…”

“What about it?”

“Does it kill you?”

“No.”

“Then why—?”

“The cellar?” He sipped his wine. His mouth was stained slightly pink. I hurriedly lifted my gaze. “We have to sleep, just like you do.”

“During the day?”

“We’re sensitive to sunlight,” he said slowly, factually. “We don’t produce melanin in the same way, so we burn easily. And it’s hard to see.”

“So you just…sleep?”

He frowned at his glass. “Not the way you sleep. The Blood requires us to…offline. Recharge.”

“Could you stay awake if you wanted? During the day?”

“Yes, though it’s hard. But the Blood wakes us if there’s a threat. Is it my turn now?”

I hesitated and reached for the other glass. “I thought you said you were supposed to answer my questions.”

“Polite conversation normally goes both ways.”

I fought a scowl. “We’re not exactly meeting at a dinner party here.”

“No,” he said softly, looking into the fire. “But that’s not my fault, is it?”

 

 

About the Author

S.J. Coles is a Romance writer originally from Shropshire, UK. She has been writing stories for as long as she has been able to read them. Her biggest passion is exploring narratives through character relationships.

She finds writing LGBT/paranormal romance provides many unique and fulfilling opportunities to explore many (often neglected or under-represented) aspects of human experience, expectation, emotion and sexuality.

Among her biggest influences are LGBT Romance authors K J Charles and Josh Lanyon and Vampire Chronicles author Anne Rice.

 

Author Links

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Instagram | Pride Publishing

 

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RELEASE BLITZ: “Resolutions for an Arbitrary Holiday” by Nell Iris. Rafflecopter Giveaway Included!

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Resolutions for an Arbitrary Holiday

Author: Nell Iris

Publisher: JMS Books

Cover Artist: Written Ink Designs

Release Date: December 30, 2020

Genre/s: Contemporary, holiday M/M Romance

Trope/s: Meet cute

Themes: Being true to yourself, New Year’s Eve, holiday

Heat Rating: 1 flame

Length: 20 849 words

It is a standalone story.

 

Buy Links

JMS Books | Amazon US | Amazon UK

B&N | Kobo | Apple Books

 

Two strangers, a twisted ankle, an ancient stone ship, and a New Year’s Eve they’ll never forget

 

Blurb

Petter sneaks out of the New Year’s party he didn’t want to go to and treks to an old burial site he’s dying to see. Alone. Without telling anyone on a freezing December night. Without cell service…a huge problem when he twists his ankle.

Someone passes by Isak’s house on the path leasing to the stone ship. When the person never returns, Isak worries and sets off to investigate. What he finds is Petter, a pack of sparklers, and an instant connection.

Under a starry sky, they learn they have a lot in common. Will the attraction burn hot and fizzle out like the fireworks going off over their heads when they return to the real world? Or will it deepen, grow, and turn into something real? Something everlasting like the stone ship?

 

Excerpt

“Did you come here to ring in the new year?” He nods toward the bottle still positioned between my legs.

“Yeah. I’ve always wanted to visit this place and since I was dragged to the village, it seemed like a good idea at the time. I even brought sparklers.” I pull them out of my pocket, holding them up for him to see.

“Bubbly and sparklers by the stone ship. Sounds like the perfect New Year’s celebration to me.”

I stare at him. He sounds serious enough, not like he’s mocking me. And he doesn’t know me, so he won’t know what buttons to push to get me to agree to do shit I don’t want to, like my friend Jonas, who’s the sole reason for me being here. “You can’t be alone on New Year’s Eve, Petter. Only losers and people with no friends stay home alone on holidays. Besides, you don’t want Maja to think you’re not her friend, do you?” Bastard played me and used his girlfriend to get me to agree, knowing how much I like her. More than him, most days.

But this guy, this stranger, seems honest. “You really mean that?”

“I do.” He grabs the bottle and takes a swig, his face scrunching up in a grimace.

“Yeah, I know,” I snicker. “It’s vile. Serves me right for grabbing someone’s bubbly from the fridge before heading up here.”

“I’m not a wine expert, but that was…”

“…too sweet,” we say simultaneously.

He nods. “Exactly.”

I smile.

“Listen. What do you say we ring in the new year a bit early? New Year’s is just an arbitrary mark of the passage of time invented by humans anyway, so who says we can’t do it now? Light some sparklers, tell each other our resolutions. Try not to barf as we drink more of this.” He holds up the bottle. “Then I can help you down. Call a doctor if you need one. Or take you back to your friends if you prefer. I assume you’re at the Andersson house for the party?”

I raise an eyebrow. “How did you know?”

“It’s a teeny tiny village. Everyone knows what’s going on in their neighbors’ houses.”

“Really? That can’t be good?”

“It has its downsides, that’s for sure. But I’m mostly fine with it.”

“Okaaaay.” Because surely, he doesn’t mean the neighbors know everything? Not what other people have in their nightstands and stuff? Ew.

“So what do you say?” He nudges his knee against my leg.

“Sure. I approve of the plan.”

Isak removes his gloves and holds out his hand. “Let me light the sparklers. Did you bring a lighter?”

“Yeah, hang on.” I dig into my pocket without taking off my mittens—my fingers are pretty cold—until I find it. “Here you go.”

“Awesome. Are you the kind of person who makes resolutions?”

“Usually not.” I accept the lit sparkler he holds out to me. I’ve loved these things since I was a little kid, even more than fireworks, and up here, in the howling wind with a sky full of stars above my head, in the company of a kind stranger and huge ancient stones, they’re more beautiful than ever.

“But this year is different?”

“Yeah. I’m doing some…significant changes in my life this coming year, so I thought ‘why not?’ It can’t hurt, right? Even if I agree with you about the arbitrariness of this so-called holiday.”

“You do?”

“Sure. It’s not a thing we celebrate because of some natural phenomenon, like the solstice. It’s just to mark that the Earth has done another lap around the sun. I mean, that’s great and all, but why do we need to celebrate it?”

Isak’s face lights up in a wide grin. “Yes! This is what I always say when people complain because I refuse to embrace the spirit of the holiday.”

I return his smile. “Exactly!”

“I’ll drink to that.”

 

About the Author

Nell Iris is a romantic at heart who believes everyone deserves a happy ending. She’s a bona fide bookworm (learned to read long before she started school), wouldn’t dream of going anywhere without something to read (not even the ladies room), loves music (and singing along at the top of her voice but she’s no Celine Dion), and is a real Star Trek nerd (Make it so). She loves words, bullet journals, poetry, wine, coffee-flavored kisses, and fika (a Swedish cultural thing involving coffee and pastry!)

Nell believes passionately in equality for all regardless of race, gender or sexuality, and wants to make the world a better, less hateful, place.

Nell is a bisexual Swedish woman married to the love of her life, a proud mama of a grown daughter, and is approaching 50 faster than she’d like. She lives in the south of Sweden where she spends her days thinking up stories about people falling in love. After dreaming about being a writer for most of her life, she finally was in a place where she could pursue her dream and released her first book in 2017.

Nell Iris writes gay romance, prefers sweet over angsty, short over long, and quirky characters over alpha males.

 

Author Links

Blog/Website | Facebook Author Page | Facebook Profile

Twitter: @nellirisauthor | Instagram: @nell_iris | Goodreads

QueeRomance Ink | BookBub

 

 

Giveaway

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a choice of one of five ebook copies from Nell’s backlist

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Continue Reading RELEASE BLITZ: “Resolutions for an Arbitrary Holiday” by Nell Iris. Rafflecopter Giveaway Included!