BOOK BLAST: “Finding Sarah” by Aprille Caniff


Book Title: Finding Sarah

Author: Aprille

Publisher: Fulton

Release Date: August 26,

Genre: Romance, F/F Romance

Tropes: Trauma, New Girl in Town

Themes: Internal Struggle, Relationship, Love

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length: 60 000 words/ 187

The book ends on a
There is a follow-on book


Buy Links

Amazon US | Amazon UK

The past has left her
scarred and broken, but does she have the strength to risk her heart on the


When Sarah steps off the plane in Provincetown, she has
only one goal—to leave the past behind her. As she begins her journey of rediscovering

herself, she meets one of the town’s deputies under less-than-ideal circumstances but soon
finds herself drawn to her in ways she knows she can’t allow.

Deputy Catrina Diaz loves her job, her family, and her
friends, which is why she became a deputy to begin with, to keep her town and those she
loves safe. When she crosses paths with Sarah, a newcomer to town, she finds herself
wanting more than Sarah is wanting to give.

Sarah fights hard to find herself as the past keeps finding
new ways to haunt her. As their relationship grows, will the secrets Sarah is hiding, secrets
that Cat realizes everyone knows but her, finally pull them apart? Can Sarah trust Cat
enough to overcome her past and the insecurities it has caused and take a chance on the
one thing she thought she could never have again-love?


Grateful for the privacy, Sarah sat down, facing Cat on the
couch. “Cat, I don’t want you to think…” Sarah paused, struggling to find the words to

“What? That you’re avoiding me?” Cat reached over and
took Sarah’s hand, their fingers automatically intertwining. “Sarah, I like you. I like spending
time with you.”

Sarah was overcome with sadness. “Cat, we can’t.”

“Give me one good reason why.”

A tear slid down her cheek as she spoke the simple truth
that had consumed her since she had met Cat. “Because I’m broken, and you deserve

Cat reached over and gently wiped the errant tear away
from Sarah’s cheek. “We are all broken in some way, but that doesn’t mean we can’t help
each other to heal.”

Sarah shook her head, frustrated for what she wanted and
for what she could never have. “Cat, you don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t, but I’m willing to wait until you are ready to
tell me. Until then…” Cat leaned forward and gently, almost shyly, placed a soft kiss on
Sarah’s lips. The feel of Sarah’s lips flooded her senses and filled her with a warmth so
intense she finally understood what all the romance novels were talking about. She
understood what it meant to fall with one simple kiss. “I want to spend time getting to know
the Sarah you are wanting to become.”

Sarah did her best to fight back and hide the feelings she
had for Cat, but that kiss, how could she hold back now? That one simple kiss tore down the
walls she had built to protect herself and others. She had to do what was right and stop this
before it got out of control, but what her mind wanted was overridden by her heart,
surprising even herself. “Cat, I don’t know if I could handle you walking away if you find out
what happened to me. I’m telling you, it’s horrible, and it’s not something you can

It broke Cat’s heart to see the tears that were now flowing
freely down Sarah’s cheeks. She wanted to erase the past and the hurt it had caused her.
Instead, she pulled Sarah into her arms and held her as she cried. “I see you for who you
are, and that’s all that matters. Just give me a chance to prove it to you.”

Sarah wanted to say no because she couldn’t take anymore
hurt or disappointment in her life, but the longer Cat held her, the harder it was to fight.
Finally, she dried her eyes and sat up. “Maybe…”

About the Author

Aprille Canniff retired from
the military after 24 years of service and has deployed to multiple Middle Eastern locations
throughout her military career. She is a full-time Deputy Sheriff who loves her job and
wakes up every morning ready for another day. Her passions include fishing as a catch and
release type girl and hiking with her wife. Her two cats determine the pace of her future
books so she never gives a timeline for completion.

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RELEASE BLITZ: “Cosy & Chill” by Jackie Keswick. $10.00 Amazon Gift Card Giveaway Included!


Book Title: Cosy & Chill

Author: Jackie

Publisher: Jackie

Cover Artist: Covers by

Release Date: November 10,

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance with a Touch of

Tropes: Opposites Attract, everyday magic, stranded fae, lost treasure,
house mates, home-made family / found family

Themes: How to make dreams come true

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length: approx. 62 000

It is a standalone story and
oes not end on a cliffhanger.


Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon DE | Amazon AU

Romance with a Touch of


What does it take to change your life?

Not “manly” enough for his father, quiet, industrious Finn
dreams of his own knitting store. He needs Leo’s enthusiasm to take the steps that make his
dream come true.

Cheerful, adventurous Leo puts on a good front selling
artisan ice cream at the market, but shies away from fulfilling his grandmother’s last wish.
He needs Finn’s love and support to tackle his past and put it to rest for good.

Add a Saxon treasure, a fae stranded in the human world,
and an empty store with very unusual rental terms and falling in love is not the only
challenge Finn and Leo have to face.

But there’s magic in dreams, and all they have to do is hold on tight.


Finn’s boots squelched with every step. When he kicked
them off on his parents’ doorstep, water seeped from his wet socks. “I hate November,” he
grumbled while he hunted for his keys. “And weather forecasters.”

They hadn’t predicted this morning’s downpour, and Finn
minded that. He might have taken an umbrella had he known. Or a boat.

He’d gone to the post office to drop off his latest batch of
parcels, detouring on to the far end of the High Street to look at an empty store on the way
back. Double-fronted with a bow window, it was perfect for the shop he dreamed of. He’d
lingered in front of the dusty windows, imagining them sparkling clean, and the shelves in
the room beyond filled to bursting—until the rain had prompted him to leave.

The shop was all he could think of and if wishes were coins,
he’d have rented it already. As matters stood, he hadn’t even enquired.

Finn pushed open the door, and a ball of russet yarn with
two needles sticking through it hit him right in the face.

“How many times have I told you not to leave your prissy
stuff lying around the house?” His father bellowed at full volume from three feet

Finn wanted to point out that his ears worked fine, thank
you very much, but knew that it would only make matters worse. He picked up the yarn,
grateful that neither needle had poked his eye out, and that his father’s rough treatment
hadn’t dropped any stitches.

“Sorry, Dad,” he muttered, meaning it. He’d been working
on a commission when he realised that he’d miss the parcel collection if he didn’t hurry. In
his rush to the door, he’d brought the half-finished glove in his wake. He should have taken it
back to his room and run if he’d needed to, but that was water under the bridge.

He hung up his jacket in the hallway, then stripped off his
sodden socks and his T-shirt so he could dry his feet before leaving wet footprints
everywhere. He wiped up the water on the wooden floor for good measure before he made
his way up the stairs.

If his father was yelling when it was barely five o’clock, then
the rest of the evening wouldn’t be peaceful. No doubt he’d already opened the bottle of
Scotch he’d bought yesterday.

Finn couldn’t cope with much more of this. Christmas was
two months away. His list of orders was as long as his arm and turning away new business
was not an option. He needed to work, not sit in his room, keeping half an ear out for

The familiar, colourful clutter in his room soothed his mind.
The space wasn’t large, just roomy enough for a bed, a wardrobe, and his desk. Every free
corner held boxes and baskets filled with yarn, and he hunted for a piece he could create in
a few hours. Hats were good for that. He could knock those out in no time flat.

His order book showed two requests for hats, and both
were his favourites: custom orders.

He opened the first file to the smiling face of a young
woman with green eyes, red hair a few shades darker than his own bright copper, and a
spray of freckles across her nose. She’d requested a hat in a flattering style, but had
specified nothing else.
, his mind supplied immediately.
Mohair. A close-fitting hat with a swirl

Suddenly excited, he went rummaging under his desk for a
skein of moss-green yarn that showed tiny speckles of deep red here and there. He stuffed
the yarn into his messenger bag along with his needle case, a measuring tape and the

customer’s measurements. Then he changed into dry clothes and checked the weather. The
rain had let up a bit, and Finn hoped he could make it to the pub without getting soaked

His father was swearing at something on the telly, as had
become his habit. Finn tiptoed out and breathed a sigh of relief when he stood in the rain.
Everything set off his father’s temper these days. Especially Finn.

He really should move out. He would move out. As
soon as he’d saved enough to afford the rent on a small shop with a room where he could
sleep. Maybe then, his father wouldn’t be so angry all the time and his mother would smile

Three hours later, the moss-green hat was nearing
completion. Warm through after a dinner of steak pie and chips, and nursing a second beer,
Finn felt almost happy. He was a familiar sight in the Crown & Anchor, tucked into a
corner with his yarns and needles. It was a place where he could work without fear of
interruption, and he’d been coming here ever since his father had lost his job and started

Food and peace weren’t the only things to recommend the
pub. It was a great place to pick up commissions. People always looked for unusual,
one-of-a-kind gifts, and he’d made christening gowns, blankets, baby clothes, scarves, hats,
gloves, even Christmas ornaments.

The crowd was friendly and Annabelle, who held the pub’s
license and worked at the bar that night, was more supportive than his parents had ever
been. He’d made her a long cardigan, wine- red yak with a touch of silk, and she was
perfectly happy for him to sit in his corner and knit. She even recommended him to friends
and customers.

He hadn’t shared his dreams of owning a yarn shop with
anyone, but maybe it was time to change that. He was working up his courage to ask her
about business loans and setup grants, but he’d wait until she’d finished speaking to the guy
leaning on the bar.

He had broad shoulders that tapered to slim hips, a trim
backside, and long legs.
A fisherman’s rib
, Finn’s mind suggested.
Navy blue AAran. Or tweed, indigo with gold
With a high collar to show off that
long neck and let the slightly too long blond hair pool like gold against the blue.

You’re staring. Stop it.

That was easier said than done until Finn thought to
wonder why the guy had four little Tupperware dishes open on the bar between himself and


He was explaining something to her, talking not just with
his hands but with his whole body. There was passion in that lithe form, something bright
and shining that held Finn’s interest until he realised he hadn’t stopped staring at

He dropped his gaze to his newly finished hat and tried to
focus on the pattern, the run of the yarn. It would suit the lady who’d sent the photo. It
would frame her delicate face, set off the striking hair, and bring out the green of her eyes.
He knew the hat would find favour with her, but—for once—knitting couldn’t hold his

The blond man at the bar drew his mind and his eyes, and
Finn caught the moment when all that passion fell to ashes. The man’s shoulders slumped
and one of his hands dropped to his side.

Annabelle watched him with an apologetic smile as he
returned his dishes to his bag. She pulled a beer for him and handed it across the

For a heartbeat, he appeared as if he was going to refuse.
Then he dipped his head in thanks and reached for the glass. He slung the strap of his bag
over his shoulder and turned away from the bar.

In a move that surprised him by its daring, Finn caught the
man’s gaze, flicked his own to the empty seat at this table. He’d never been so brazen
before, but something in the man’s wary determination spoke to him. He wasn’t sure what
the blond man saw, but he came over and set his beer on the table.

“May I?”

About the Author

Jackie Keswick was born
behind the Iron Curtain with itchy feet, a bent for rocks and a recurring dream of stepping
off a bus in the middle of nowhere to go home. She’s worked in a hospital and as the only
girl with 52 men on an oil rig, spent a winter in Moscow and a summer in Iceland and finally
settled in the country of her dreams with her dream team: a husband, a cat, a tandem, a
hammer and a laptop.

Jackie loves unexpected
reunions and second chances, and men who write their own rules. She blogs about English
history and food, has a thing for green eyes, and is a great believer in making up soundtracks
for everything, including her characters and the cat.

And she still hasn’t found the place where the bus

For questions and comments, not restricted to
green eyes, bus stops or recipes for traditional English food, you can find Jackie Keswick in
all the usual places

Facebook group | Facebook page | Twitter

Instagram | Newsletter Sign-up | TikTok | Patreon


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RELEASE BLITZ: “Remember When” by BL Maxwell. $10.00 Amazon Gift Card Giveaway Included.


Book Title: Remember When

Author: BL Maxwell

Publisher and Cover Artist: BL

Release Date: November 11,

Genre: Contemporary M/M

Tropes: Friends to lovers,
small town, holiday romance

Themes: Secret crush, secrets

Heat Rating: 2

Length: 50 500

It is a standalone story and
does not end on a cliffhanger.


Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US | Amazon UK

A night to remember, a
confession, and a lifetime of love in this small town, friends to lovers Christmas


Andrew Lawson’s life in Sacramento has turned from being
everything he dreamed of growing up, to a lonely place where finding someone special to

share his life with is impossible. When the first person he meets on returning home for
Thanksgiving is his childhood friend Link, it’s a reminder of happier times when his whole
future lay in front of him. Agreeing to a drink before heading to his parent’s place is a way to
reconnect, and a great way to start the holiday.

Link Stanton never considered leaving the small farming
town he grew up in, but he misses Andy more than he’ll ever admit. Secretly lusting after a
friend is bad enough but being in love with him is so much worse. One drink with friends
seems harmless enough, after all, catching up on old times can’t be a bad thing, until beers
turn to shots, and Link reveals how he really feels.

Everything could change, and if Andy doesn’t remember
Link’s heartfelt confession, they could carry on as friends. But if he does remember, this
could be either the worst, or the best, Christmas of all.


Sunday morning came and I slept in. The past few days,
including two nights of drinking, had finally caught up with me. I’d stayed up late the night
before texting with Link about anything and nothing at all. Like always, that was just how it
was between us.

Around ten I rolled out of bed and checked my phone. A
few clients had messaged hoping to get in sometime before Christmas. They were smart to
book it now. Even though it was a month away, by the end of this week there wouldn’t be
any openings.

It was a perfect Sunday, I didn’t leave the house and got
everything ready for the week. This week would be the beginning, and it wouldn’t let up
until Christmas Eve. I normally worked it, but after this year I’d decided it was time to start
taking it off.

I was just settled down on the couch and turned on the TV
when my phone rang. “Hello?” “Hey.” I’d know that smooth deep voice anywhere.

“I was just thinking about you.” It wasn’t a lie, since I’d left
home Link had been on my mind constantly.

“Good thoughts I hope.”

“Always. It was great seeing you again. I know it hadn’t
been that long but it really was nice to catch up again.”

His words brought a smile to my face, and I pictured his
blue eyes crinkling at the corners with a grin. “So, are you going to give me any

“Do you need a clue?” he taunted, and he knew he taunted. I
would have sworn I could hear his smirk through the line.

“Link, you know I need a clue. I’ve been racking my brain
since Friday trying to remember anything that might help. Why did you let me drink so many

“Hey, you were having fun, we were all having fun. Who
was I to ruin anyone’s good time? And once you started you were all in. Then we were
dancing, and well it was a lot of fun.”

Oh god, he was right. It wasn’t unusual for us to all get
together before a holiday and have a few drinks, there was nothing that would make me not
go all in. “It was a lot of fun, it’s been a while since I’ve gone out.” I wanted to mention his
confession, and how he kissed me. But I wasn’t sure how to bring it up, and it felt like
something we should talk about in person.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for years,” he whispered, and I
would have sworn I could feel his breath on my neck.

“I think you said that the other night.” My own voice was
soft and breathy. I wasn’t sure exactly why, but the mood had changed, and I didn’t want
anything to break the spell his words had woven around us.

“Did I?” He played coy, something that was new between
us. But I found I was quite drawn to.

“You did, right before you kissed me.” He was quiet then.
Too quiet, and I checked the phone to be sure we were still connected. “Link?”

About the Author

BL Maxwell grew up in a
small town listening to her grandfather spin tales about his childhood. Later she became an
avid reader and after a certain vampire series she became obsessed with fanfiction. She
soon discovered Slash fanfiction and later discovered the MM genre and was hooked.

Author Links

Smart Link | Facebook Page

Twitter | Instagram | Newsletter


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RELEASE BLITZ: “Safe Harbour” by Thom Collins. Rafflecopter Giveaway Included!


Book Title: Safe Harbour (Jagged Shores Book 2)

Author: Thom

Publisher: Pride

Release Date: November 9,

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance, Thriller and

Tropes. Small town, holiday/coastal romance

Themes: Divorce, fresh starts, jealousy

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 58 382 words/ 229

It is the second book in a
linked series (Jagged Shores) but can be read alone.

It does not end on a


Buy Links

Universal Sales
Publisher | First For Romance

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon AUS

Kobo | Barnes and

Two lovers seek shelter in
a storm of jealousy and passion


Matt arrives in the seaside town of Nyemouth for a
much-needed vacation. As a successful lawyer, Matt has a hectic career, and with an
ex-husband still pestering him for money, he is long overdue a break. A holiday home
perched above the town and its breath-taking harbour seems like the perfect place to
unwind. Matt can’t wait to explore the beautiful, jagged shorelines and lose himself for a
couple of weeks.

Jake has made a home in Nyemouth. After growing up in
the city, living on the coast is everything to him. Running a business with his sister and
volunteering on the crew of the local lifeboat, he is exactly where he wants to be. But Jake’s
life is far from peaceful. Though he left his domineering husband Vince a year ago, Vince
refuses to consent to a divorce or loosen his controlling hold on Jake.

On Matt’s first night in town, he encounters the couple
having a blazing row. When Vince turns violent, Matt intervenes and takes Jake inside to
escape his angry ex. Despite what happened, Matt feels a powerful attraction to the
younger man. Jake is bright, endearing and unbelievably attractive, but the young man’s life
is complicated. Matt already has enough problems of his own. He came away looking for an
escape, not a starry-eyed distraction. As Matt and Jake get to know each other better, the
gamble on a holiday romance becomes hard for either of them to resist. They have both
been unlucky in love before. Maybe this time will be different.

Vince will not be shaken off so easily. He has no intention
of letting Jake go…ever. As Matt’s and Jake’s emotions deepen, they do not understand how
far Vince will take things to keep his husband. As far as Vince is concerned, they made a vow
to each other… “till death do us part.”


Matt opened the gate and approached Jake, who stood
watching as Vince walked away.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Jake’s skin was rosy, and his chest rose and fell dramatically.
His hands trembled.
Shock, Matt surmised. Jake turned to look at him. His eyes were wide,
the pupils huge. “Yes,” he said, out of breath, “I’m… I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”


Matt pointed at his cheek. “Where he clocked you.”

“Oh.” He put his fingers to his face and looked at the blood
on the tips.

“Why don’t you come inside for a few minutes? I’ll get you
an Elastoplast for that.”

“No, I couldn’t. Sorry… We’ve caused you enough trouble

“Hey,” he said softly, “don’t apologise. I couldn’t ignore
what was happening. Come on in. You’re shaking, too. Take a seat until you get your breath
back. Give your buddy time to get away. I wouldn’t want you bumping into him at the
bottom of the road.”

Jake exhaled, and the tension left his neck and shoulders.
“If it’s no trouble, I could come in for a few minutes—just until things calm down.”

“Are you hurting anywhere else?” he asked, leading Jake to
the front door and inside. “From when you fell.”

“Only my pride,” he said. “If that counts.”

Matt smiled. “Nothing wrong with your sense of humour.”
He led Jake to the kitchen at the rear of the ground floor and sat him at the table. Matt
folded a piece of kitchen roll into a small square and gave it to Jake. “Press this tight against
the cut. There’s a first-aid kit in my suitcase. I won’t be a minute.”

“No need,” Jake said, pressing the paper towel against his
cheek. “This should be enough to stop the bleeding. It’s just a scratch. You’ve done more
than enough already. Thanks a lot.”

Being so close to him, Matt realised what a great-looking
guy Jake was, with those beautiful eyes and unblemished skin. His T-shirt was well-fitted,
showing the fine shape of his chest and shoulders beneath. His bare arms were muscular,

gently suntanned and covered in light-brown hair. Despite his serious expression, there were
very few lines on his face. Matt guessed his age to be around twenty-five.

“Do you want me to call the police?” he asked. “I got most
of what happened on camera—certainly, the assault part. With me as a witness and the
video evidence, they’ll have enough to charge him. It’ll get him out of your hair for the
weekend, at least.”

Jake shook his head. “I don’t want to involve the police. It
will only make things worse.”

“That guy assaulted you.”

“I’ll live. It’s just a scratch. If we phone the police, it will
only make Vince worse.”

Matt didn’t push it. He’d seen this so many times before
when victims of violence didn’t want to pursue a case for fear of inflaming the situation. “So,
who is that guy? Your boyfriend?”

Jake exhaled dramatically. “If only. That would make things
so much easier. No, Vince is my husband—soon-to-be ex-husband. At least I hope so. That’s
what tonight was all about. My solicitor wrote to him about the divorce and he got the letter
this morning.”

About the Author

Thom Collins is the author of
Closer by Morning, North
and the Anthem Trilogy. His
love of page turning thrillers began at an early age when his mother caught him reading the
latest Jackie Collins book and confiscated it, sparking a life-long love of raunchy

Thom has lived in the North
East of England his whole life. He grew up in Northumberland and now lives in County
Durham with his husband and two cats. He loves all kinds of genre fiction, especially
bonk-busters, thrillers, romance and horror. He is also a cookery book addict with far too
many titles cluttering his shelves. When not writing he can be found in the kitchen trying out
new recipes. He’s a keen traveler but with a fear of flying that gets worse with age, but in
2013 he realized cruising is the best way to see the world.

Check out his website for news updates and a free ebook The Night.

Other links

Instagram: thomcollinsauthor | Newsletter Sign-up


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RELEASE BLITZ: “Red’s Wolf” by Beth Laycock. $10.00 Amazon Gift Card Giveaway Included!


Book Title: Red’s Wolf

Author: Beth

Publisher: Rainbow Romance

Cover Artist: Free To Be
Creative Co

Release Date: November 10,

Genre: Paranormal romance

Tropes: Friends to lovers, age gap, snowed-in together

Themes: Found family, learning to accept yourself

Heat Rating: 3 – 4 flames

Length: approx 28 000

It is the first book in a series
of standalone books/novellas and d
oes not end on
a cliffhanger.


Buy Links – Available in Kindle

Amazon US | Amazon UK

A fairy-tale retelling
with a paranormal twist!


Concerned for his gran’s health, Red braves the
snow-covered forest to ensure she’s safe in the worsening weather. After several encounters
over recent months, Red is both hoping to run into the huntsman again whilst also dreading
he might because he knows their friendship can’t lead to more, no matter how much he
wishes it might.

A glimpse of his huntsman distracts Red and he stumbles
away from the safety of the woodland path straight into the danger known as the wolf of
Bowland. Shaken, but unharmed, Red manages to escape to the safety of his gran’s cottage
to recover.

Despite Red’s reservations, the pair grow closer after they
end up snowed in together at the huntsman’s cabin, but can Aldrich help Red accept there is
nothing wrong with who he is? Or will Red let his secret and insecurities come between
them? Especially when he finds out his huntsman is hiding a secret of his own.

This M/M romance from Beth Laycock features friends
to lovers, an age gap, snowed-in together, shifters and witches, and of course a


I stopped as I reached the twisted oak and drew in a deep
breath, and then slowly blew it out in a plume of white vapour. Hope warred with
trepidation. I didn’t know the man all that well, we’d met a handful of times over the last
few months in the woods to stop and talk, but I knew enough that I liked the man and
wanted to discover more about him.

And those encounters in the secluded woods had left me
wanting more. More glimpses of the toned body that was hinted at beneath his clothes.
More opportunities to listen to his lilting, almost musical voice as we chatted about
everything and nothing. More chances to lose my senses in his intoxicating musky scent with
that spicy hint of cinnamon.

And didn’t that just spell trouble with a capital T. Looking
forward to seeing the huntsman could only lead to heartache. I doubted one night with him
would be anywhere near enough. And I didn’t do relationships.

With a brush of my palm over the twisted oak’s trunk, I
veered off to the right and towards Gran’s. The hairs on the back of my neck lifted and as I
raised my gaze…there he was. As if thinking about him had conjured him out of thin air, and
I sucked in an icy breath.

Crouched in the distance, blurred by the snow that had
begun to fall again, but I’d have recognised him anywhere. I took a step towards him.
Adrenaline surged through my veins as excitement and anticipation spurred me closer. I
couldn’t drag my gaze off him as he reached out a hand to the snow.

What is he doing?

Too engrossed by the vision of the huntsman, I must have
wandered to the edge of the path because I stumbled over a small boulder hidden beneath
the blanket of snow. I cried out as I fell, throwing out my hands to break my fall and to try to
keep me on the path as my gran’s warnings rang out in my head.
Never leave the path, Red. It’s not safe in the woods if you’re not
on the path, that’s the only place I can protect you out there

But it was too late. As my elbow connected with the
ground, it was cushioned by the soft earth of the forest floor instead of hard stone. Pain
ripped through my body, and every bone ached as the curse took hold of me.

I rolled onto my side as my hands morphed into paws,
claws flicking out, and grey fur sprouting over every inch of my skin. My eyes shifted
position and my vision dimmed to only muted colours as my sense of hearing
heightened—the scuffle of some small animal scurrying away along a branch, the whisper of
the snow falling on the ground, the slow, deep breaths of the huntsman in the
distance—and my ears twitched.

My fangs dropped from my gums to replace my useless
regular teeth, and my nose lengthened into a snout as the smells of the forest overwhelmed
me. I could scent the huntsman even from this distance. And that tug I felt in my chest every
time I saw him intensified to the point I almost threw my head back and howled.

The cinnamon tang of him had saliva dripping from my
fangs, and I shuddered at the thought of sinking them into his warm, soft flesh. I shook my
head, trying to rid the idea from my mind as I scrambled to my paws, but I could almost feel
the give of his skin beneath my fangs as they sliced through him.

My wolf did not control me. I would not bite a human. My
heart throbbed at the thought, especially at the notion of harming the huntsman. It seemed
wrong somehow, even though it was in my wolf nature to kill, and I couldn’t deny that weird
bite, bite, bite—whenever I was around him.

The snap of a twig made me flinch. It was so loud and
brought my surroundings back into sharp focus. A glance over my shoulder confirmed my
worst fears. The huntsman was headed straight for me.

I bounded away in the other direction, dodging between
trees in the hope of shaking him off my trail. Of course, I didn’t. He was a huntsman and he
easily tracked my paw prints in the snow despite the fact he couldn’t match my

I circled back to where I’d stumbled off the path, crossing
over my original paw prints to throw him off my tail. My tongue lolled out despite the cold
nip in the air. I darted behind the twisted oak tree, my ears twitching as I listened for the
huntsman. Nothing.

I hung my head and drew in a breath. The big bad wolf
escapes his hunter.

About the Author

Beth Laycock’s books are
influenced by her time living overseas as well as the gritty, urban landscape of the north of
England where she grew up. She has been reading romance since she was old enough to tell
herself that line every book lover does—just one more chapter.

As a teenager, she attempted
to write her first novel, and many more since then are still gathering dust on her bookshelf.
It wasn’t until she discovered the M/M genre that her muse showed up and refused to quit
telling her stories about beautiful men finding love together. She hasn’t stopped scribbling
them down since. Beth’s muse usually shows up when she is in the shower, is allergic to
cleaning, rarely lets her watch TV, and insists she drinks copious amounts of coffee so she
can turn caffeine into words.

Beth’s books range from
sweet to sexy, long to short, contemporary to paranormal, but a HEA is always

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Pinterest | BookBub


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RELEASE BLITZ: “Genie in a Vodka Bottle” by Rob Rosen. Rafflecopter Giveaway Included!


Book Title: Genie in a Vodka Bottle

Author: Rob

Publisher: JMS

Release Date: November 6,

Genre: Speculative M/M Romance, Mystery, Adventure

Tropes: Genie, Enemy to Friend, Magic

Themes: Searching for love, forgiveness

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 139 pages/56 000

It is a standalone story and
oes not end on a cliffhanger.


Buy Links

Amazon US | Amazon UK

Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Google Play

A funny, frisky, and
frequently heart-pounding genie romance and adventure novel!


Mysterious forces are at play when Paul’s vacation to Spain
unexpectedly detours to Gibraltar and then Morocco, to a vodka bottle in a hole in the wall
bar, to a handsome genie with a slew of secrets, plus almost limitless powers, virtually no
memory, and a keen desire to be freed from his curse. Along the way, Paul is reunited with
his ex-lover and the genie’s previous master as fate draws them ever deeper into a murky,
dangerous past.

On our heroes travel, from the frigid north of Russia to a
magic carpet ride across China, ultimately finding themselves in the deserts of ancient
Jordan. Here, they encounter another of the genie’s previous masters and a power far
greater than they could’ve ever imagined, all within a massive temple carved into a
mountainside. Can our intrepid foursome uncover the truth before the curse takes them all
and possibly the entire world down? Will love win out in the end? Or is the genie forever
doomed to a life foretold in fairy tales?

In this funny, frisky, and frequently heart-pounding
adventure, only one thing is for certain: magic can happen even without three


The bottle was still in my hand. I reached for the cork. I
gave it a pull. It didn’t budge. I pulled again, harder this time. Nope, nothing. That cork
must’ve been in there a long, long time, I figured. I stood up, placed the bottle between my
knees, wiped the sweat from my palms and grabbed on tightly to the cork. Then, seeing as
where I was, grunted, “Open sesame,” and gave one final, massive yank.

POP went
the cork.

“Oh fuck,” went I.

I mean sure, the bottle was open, but, um, well, time was
suddenly standing still. Like totally still. Nothing was moving, not the fans, the waitress, not
Omar, who was pouring a drink that was suspended in midair. Though me, yeah, me I was
moving. Or least my heart was. Super-fast, in fact. Energizer Bunny fast.

“Oh fuck,” went I, yet again.

Because now the vodka bottle was pouring, only, it wasn’t
pouring vodka. And the pouring wasn’t obeying the laws of gravity because what was being
poured went out and up as opposed down and down some more. Plus, the vodka bottle

should have been pouring liquid but appeared to be pouring gas, a massive white cloud of it
tinged with swirls of various shades of blue and, if I wasn’t mistaken, which I wasn’t,
lightning. I mean, I knew lightning when I saw it, it’s just I’d never seen it being poured from
a vodka bottle before.

The cloud spread, the blue becoming purple, then red, then
all the colors of the rainbow at once. It looked like what you saw in an oil slick, greasy and
blending and bleeding. And then the room I was in was all cloud, and it was just me in the
cloud, me and the vodka bottle and the cloud of smoke and lightning and rainbow. The hairs
on my neck stood on end as I tried to take it all in, but how do you take in a cloud, especially
when it’s all around you, choking you, engulfing you completely as if it were a living,
breathing thing? And you could feel it, too. The power of it.

“Oh fuck,” went I for the third time. Because now I was not
alone in the cloud, and the eyes that had been staring back at me from the label on the
bottle were no longer on the bottle and were no longer the same eyes. And the face on the
bottle had a body, a different body, a new body, and the body was big, and the body was
torso on top and cloudy solidness down below, and the face was above mine, and the eyes
were staring down upon me, boring through me, piercing what felt like my very soul. Or
maybe that was me being a bit overdramatic, but how can you not be overdramatic at a
time such as that?

“Master,” boomed the voice that erupted forth from the
mouth in the face, the cloud all at once swept from the still-stagnant room. The half torso,
half solid cloud still floated above me, still churning in color and lightning and a slight
tremble of thunder that reminded me of our drive through Spain, me and Omar number

“Paul,” I managed to squeak out.

The face tilted ever so slightly. “Paul? What is a Paul? I do
not know this word.” The voice again boomed, rattled my bones, shook the fillings in my
mouth. The voice was deep as the ocean, heavy as a boulder, pressing down upon me with
each vowel and syllable that was uttered.

“Paul,” I said, sitting back down in my chair. Or falling back
down in my chair. Probably the latter. “That is my name. Paul.”

The cloud-man craned down, the eyes barely a foot away.
“Paul,” came the voice in a whoosh that washed over me like a tidal wave, the exhale
smelling of spices and earth and incense. If you bottled it, it’d sell well. I had a bottle in
hand, but, like the room around me, I was sort of also frozen to the spot, and so bottling, at
least for the time being, seemed out of the question. “You have freed me, Master

I blinked. He did not. He had eyes the color of fresh moss,
skin the color of The Rock back in Gibraltar, perhaps a shade darker. He was shirtless, dense
with smooth muscle from chest to arms to hands to fingers. And despite the obvious power

of him, he looked young, my age, give or take. And as for the cloud below him, it swirled like
a cyclone, shooting off sparks as he hovered there. He was beautiful. He was fearsome. I
needed to pee. Badly.

About the Author

Rob Rosen is the author of
the award-winning novels
Sparkle: The Queerest Book You’ll Ever Love, Divas Las Vegas, Hot Lava,
Southern Fried, Queerwolf, Vamp, Queens of the Apocalypse, Creature Comfort, Fate,
Midlife Crisis, Fierce, And God Belched, Mary, Queen of Scotch, Ted of the d’Urbervilles, Sort
of Dead,
and Genie in a Vodka Bottle, and editor of the anthologies Lust in
Time, Men of the Manor, Best Gay Erotica 2015,
and Best Gay Erotica of the Year, Volumes
1, 2, 3
and 4.

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a Vodka Bottle

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RELEASE BLITZ: “Wrapped in Screams” by Amy Tasukada.


Book Title: The Yakuza Path: Wrapped in Screams

Author: Amy

Publisher: Marcarons &

Cover Artist: Natasha

Release Date: November 4,

Genre: Gay thriller, Contemporary M/M Romance

Tropes: Bad boys, hurt/comfort, boss/secretary, slow burn

Themes: Friends to lovers

Heat Rating: 4

Length: 37 500 words/ 184

Though the story is
self-contained, it is best enjoyed if read as part of the series.

It does not end on a cliffhanger.


Buy Links

Universal Link
Amazon US | Amazon UK

A gunshot. A bloody note.
And a relationship that might not survive…


Now that the war with the Korean syndicate is behind him,
all Nao Murata wants is a vacation and a chance to nurture his new relationship with Aki
Hisona. They can punish those who abandoned the family later.

After six weeks trapped in a hospital bed, a quiet vacation
is the last thing Aki wants. Ready to prove himself to Nao and the rest of the family, Aki’s
desperate for some action. And not just the yakuza kind…

When Aki hears a gunshot, he knows the dust has far from
settled. Nao says it can wait, but Aki’s unable to understand why they can’t tie up those
loose ends.

Between Aki’s constant pushing and Nao’s uncompromising
focus on what he thinks is best for them both, are they too stubborn for their fragile
relationship to last?

Find out in The
Yakuza Path: Wrapped in Screams
, the sixth
installment of
The Yakuza Path thriller series. If you like gritty Japanese crime, complex
characters, and a high dose of gay romance, then you’ll love Amy Tasukada’s latest

Buy Wrapped in Screams to get your taste of romantic revenge

The Yakuza Path Series

BOOK 1 – Blood Stained Tea

BOOK 2 – Better Than Suicide

BOOK 3 – One Thousand Cranes

BOOK 4 – The Deafening Silence

BOOK 5 – Flowers of Flesh and Blood

BOOK 6 – Wrapped in Screams


“Of course I want you to sleep with me.” Aki placed a hand
suggestively on Nao’s thigh.

Aki couldn’t think of anything else that would make him
happier than having Nao’s cock rip him in half. Though Aki doubted he could get his up even
if he wanted to. Skipping the pain meds to get his libido back was the next thing on his to-do
list. The hospital had only given him a two-week supply. So far he hadn’t hurt too much and
they’d mostly made him tired. It would still probably take a few days for the narcotics to
completely leave his system, but he and Nao could mess around until then.

“We need to be careful.” Nao brushed Aki’s hand

Tightness gripped Aki’s chest and clawed at his throat. Nao
pushed him away again. After everything Aki had been through, after everything Aki had
done for him, it was like nothing had changed between them.

“We couldn’t even kiss yesterday without you becoming
breathless,” Nao added.

It sounded so cruel. Why did it have to hurt so much? Aki
looked away, but Nao cupped Aki’s face. The gesture lessened the pain, but it still

Nao’s eyebrows drew together. “I don’t want you hurt
because of something I did ever again. There’s a whole list of things you can’t do.”

“The doctors were being cautious.”

“There’s a gaping hole in your chest.”

“It’s six centimeters. That’s hardly gaping.”

“I don’t want you back in the hospital because of an
infection. It can happen to anyone. It happened to me when I didn’t listen to my

“And because you weren’t taking your antibiotics.”

“That’s true.” Nao laughed.

“Are you going to kiss me at least?”

Nao leaned over until their lips touched. He was cautious at
first as if asking permission. Aki opened his mouth, and Nao’s tongue entered. Aki’s muscles
relaxed, and he willed his fears to subside. Nao wasn’t going to bend him against the nearest
surface and screw him raw like in Aki’s fantasies, but Nao wasn’t saying it would
never happen. All Aki had to do was convince Nao he was fine, and in a few days, they’d be
banging like rabbits.

Nao licked at Aki’s bottom lip before pulling away. He
pressed their foreheads together.

“Do you understand what I’m trying to say?” Nao

Aki nodded. “You’ll at least help me change my bandages,

“You’ll have to teach me.”

Aki pulled off his undershirt, hiding a grimace of pain in the
cloth. He wanted to be alluring. Nao had seen him shirtless plenty of times, but it would be
the first so close. Aki glanced over his shoulder suggestively, but Nao was focused on taking
the bandages out of the plastic bag.

Aki sighed. Changing his bandages wasn’t sexy, but he’d
hoped the undressing part would be.

About the Author

International best-selling
author Amy Tasukada writes thrilling times of crime, love, and gore. Readers who crave
diverse characters, unique settings, and edge-of-your-seat action will devour her
Yakuza Path series. Readers who seek less blood and more love will swoon
over the
Yakuza Path
and Would it Be Okay to Love You? Series. Amy is an atheist, queer author who enjoys drinking tea,
Japanese street fashion and visual kei music. Her calico cat, O’Hara, is never far from her
side. Amy lives in North Texas, but is always planning her next trip to Japan.

Author Links

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BLOG TOUR: “The Tiergarten Tales” by Paolo G. Grossi


Book Title: The Tiergarten Tales

Author: Paolo G.

Publisher: The Conrad

Cover Artist: Charlotte

Release Date: May 31,

Genres: LGBTQ+ / Historical Fiction

Tropes: Boys’ friendship

Themes: Toxic masculinity and fatherly love

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length: 90 035 words / 384

It is a standalone book and
does not
end on a cliffhanger.


Buy Links

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Waterstones

Berlin. Its boys. Their stories


Boys and men of Berlin. A captivating journey through their
lives, love affairs and misdemeanours across the city’s turbulent history.

Felix and Walther bestride a deep class divide, forging an
enduring bond in 1890s Prussia. Kaspar and Max navigate the fraught upheavals of the
Weimar Republic by skilfully marketing the only commodity in demand. Young Kazimierz
leaves his impoverished Silesian village and sets off on an epic journey to the Prussian
capital, the seat of an ageing Frederick the Great. His heavenly beauty, endearing naivety
and, ultimately, fate will transform his life once through the gates of the city.

Echoes within echoes. Circles within circles. Wealth,
poverty and moral compromise. The privilege and toxic masculinity of the Prussian officer

Excerpt from The Lodger

Grey sky. It has been so for the last few days, or weeks,
months perhaps. It had been his decision to move here so there is no one else to blame.
That irks him no end, no

one to blame, no one to shout at.

Up here on the sixth floor one can barely hear the

fic below and there is never much of it anyway; it’s early
morning and he lives on a quiet and leafy street, upmarket, expensive, unaffordable for
most people.

The air is warm and all he wears is pyjama bottoms; he
prefers to walk around the apartment barefoot though he misses a soft thick carpet. But
more often than not homes come with beautiful wooden parquet here: beautiful but
uncomfortable for his feet which have lost some of the supple elasticity they used to have.
Age, always age; he wishes he could log out from thinking about ageing.

Coffee time. He walks back inside through the French doors
and inserts a capsule in the machine, the mechanical noise reassuring, another morning
with the same routine.

Frau Greta is on her way and he needs to get out. It’s his
rule number one or, rather, hers: get out of the cleaning lady’s way, you’re just a hindrance
and when she took on the job she dropped a few stern hints which allowed no debate. Very
German, he smiles.

No breakfast at home; he’ll walk to the Bismarck Bistro for

mid-morning brunch. The temperature is warm enough to sit outside with just a light jacket
and watch the world go by.

Except that it never does. The bistro is quaint and the fare
of good quality but it never seems to be that busy, though the lack of a crowd has lately
developed into a pleasure rather than a shortcoming.

Either way the bistro is close, reasonably priced, and on the
edge of that vast and wild forest in the centre of the city peculiarly described as a

He’s ready now and he feels pleasantly casual: slacks, a
polo and a light blue jacket. A scarf around his neck protects him from the light

And sunglasses. He has spent a good chunk of his previous
life in a part of the world where everyone wore sunglasses, outdoor and indoor. You could
never see anyone’s eyes. Beautiful eyes, old eyes, blue, green, black, it didn’t matter; they
were all behind dark lenses. All the fucking time.

But he has kept the habit; perhaps one day he’ll lose it.
Habits come and go.

He strolls along the oak-lined paths before turning towards
the bistro. Empty roads. Is that Sunday? Perhaps not, but the roads are always empty here
anyway. Which he loves. Or not. He’s not yet sure.

When he reaches the bistro, he lazily scans the area: a few
tables outside, almost empty as usual, one middle-aged guy tapping away at his laptop in
the far corner.

He takes a seat and then remembers the free newspapers
inside so he gets up again and strolls in to pick up a copy of the Morgenpost.

Ella is at the till. The owner greets him in a low voice and
with a smile. She must do that with all the regular customers, he thinks, but he likes it as it
makes him feel special even if he is dead sure he isn’t.

After three years his German has improved dramatically. He
has subjected himself to a gruelling and eye-wateringly expensive blitz of private tuitions.
He can now finish read- ing long-winded and often completely irrelevant opinion pieces.
Nothing much ever seems to happen here anyway. He prefers books to news but he forgot
to bring one along.

‘Good morning sir, what can I get you today?’

Not Ella’s voice. It sounds soft and warm, young, almost
female though clearly not.

As he turns, a young man of perhaps less than twenty
stands there with a smile and detectable eagerness. The eagerness of the new employee,
the excitement of a new job, the freshness of a new chapter.

The boy gently shifts the wheat blond fringe along his
forehead; a pair of black framed spectacles sits on his angular nose, the thick prescription
lenses magnifying his light blue eyes.

‘Good morning, let’s see: a cappuccino for a start, I haven’t
decided on the food, may I have a minute?’

‘Sure, sir, I’ll get the drink ready for you, take your

The manners are calm and polite. Unassuming, he

After a few minutes the young man returns with the
cappuccino and briefly stands there, clearly waiting for the order but with no impatient

About the Author

Paolo G. Grossi was born and
raised in Milan. Thirty years ago, he spent a weekend in London and decided to stay. Like
most Italians, opera and the visual arts are his main passions. When not writing, you will
surely find him attending a performance, visiting a museum and, of course, spending some
time cycling in Berlin or around the Wannsee. He lives in London with his partner David.

The Tiergarten
is his first book.

Author Links

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