Russell Bishop is a rising star at Vantage Marketing.
Stephen Parker is the company’s CFO.
A spilled cup of coffee gives them an opportunity to act on the mutual attraction they’ve both been trying to ignore. But attraction isn’t enough with an almost twenty-year age gap and clashing expectations about their relationship.
Fiercely independent, Russ isn’t sure he’s ready for long-term commitment and Stephen is afraid history is repeating itself.
Their relationship reaches a crossroads when the death of Stephen’s father forces them to visit his hometown in southern Georgia. Estranged from his family, Stephen must come to terms with his past and say goodbye to the father whose expectations he could never live up to. The small, conservative town provides its own challenges as Russ must find the strength to be the man Stephen desperately needs.
“Hopefully, I’m not keeping you from a hot date tonight or something.”
Stephen let out a small snort of amusement. “Russ, I can’t remember the last time I had a hot date. Frankly, it’s been months since I’ve had a date of any sort. And they were lukewarm at best. If you’re asking if I’m single, the answer is yes.”
Embarrassed, Russ cleared his throat. “I was curious.”
“Nothing wrong with curiosity.”
“I’m single too,” Russ said. He cringed internally. Jesus. He’d had game once. Okay, maybe not game because he’d never had time to really develop it, but he used to be at least slightly smooth. This … whatever this was, was truly pathetic.
But Stephen didn’t seem too put out by his awkwardness. “Haven’t met the right person or no time to date?”
“Maybe a little of both,” Russ admitted. “It can be hard to meet men when you’re working fifty, sixty hours a week.” There. He’d at least managed to work the fact that he was gay into the conversation without doing it in the most cringey way possible.
“Absolutely,” Stephen said. “Though, from what I hear, you’re doing very well at Vantage.”
Russ blinked. He had no idea Stephen had even known who he was, much less that he’d been paying attention to how he was doing. “I had no idea you’d noticed me at work.”
“Oh, I noticed.” Stephen gave him a slow smile. “You needn’t worry about proving your worth, if that’s why you’re working those kind of hours.”
“I like to be thorough,” Russ said.
“Thoroughness is good.”
Was it Russ’s imagination or was there a hint of heat in Stephen’s eyes now and a faint rasp to his voice? “I like to make sure I take my time and fully grasp a topic,” Russ countered. “Get a real grip on it.”
“Traits like that will certainly allow you to get far at whatever you choose to do.”
Including with you? Russ wondered. “I’m trying to get ahead.”
The corner of Stephen’s mouth curved up even further. “That much is clear.”
“Think I’ll succeed?”
“I suppose it depends on what you’re trying to succeed at.”
“You don’t know?”
“I try not to make any assumptions about anything until I’m sure.”
Goddamn it. They were talking in circles and getting nowhere. Maybe Russ needed to try a different approach.
“I appreciate all of your help today,” Russ said. “I seriously can’t thank you enough.”
Stephen looked away from the TV again and shook his head, glancing at Russ with a small smile. “It’s the least I could do. I feel responsible for what happened.”
Russ smiled back, Stephen’s earnestness relaxing him. “Let’s call it even then, I guess. Or we could be up all night with this.”
Stephen quirked an eyebrow up at him, eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement. Fuck, what a turn on. Why older men were such an attraction for him, Russ would never be sure, but he’d realized it in college. He’d had a brief fling with a professor named Jack Burns after the semester was over. It wasn’t the forbidden aspect of it—they’d both waited until after Russ was no longer his student—but he liked the age difference.
A man with a fit body, handsome face, graying hair, and a killer smile always got Russ going. Hell, his head and ankle ached and he was still thinking about what Stephen would be like in bed. And was he flirting? God, Russ hoped so. “Well, being up all night isn’t always a bad thing.”
Stephen’s lips turned up at the corners in amusement. “You don’t think so?”
Russ shrugged. “It depends on the reason, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, I suppose it does,” Stephen murmured. He shifted to face Russ. “I’m afraid all of the best reasons are off the table at the moment though, aren’t they?”
About the Author
Brigham Vaughn is on the adventure of a lifetime as a full-time author. She devours books at an alarming rate and hasn’t let her short arms and long torso stop her from doing yoga. She makes a killer key lime pie, hates green peppers, and loves wine tasting tours. A collector of vintage Nancy Drew books and green glassware, she enjoys poking around in antique shops and refinishing thrift store furniture. An avid photographer, she dreams of traveling the world and she can’t wait to discover everything else life has to offer her.
Her books range from short stories to novellas to novels. They explore gay, bisexual, lesbian, and polyamorous romance in contemporary settings.
Can the sweetest sub at Delphic stretch himself enough to satisfy two Doms?
BIRCH is the sweetest sub at Delphic, but can he stretch himself enough to satisfy two Doms? Will they share him or break him?
When a pair of demanding doms need the perfect submissive to share they place a contract with the Delphic Agency.
Their needs are very different; Ivo is the master of pushing limits whilst Griffin is gentle but intense. Can one sub ever be enough to satisfy them and for how long?
Birch will always try his hardest, it’s in his nature, but how can he retain a professional distance when they each arouse such different passions in him and together, well together, they overwhelm him.
PAID TO BE SHARED is the third book in the Delphic Agency Series and contains Dom/Sub elements, plenty of steamy kink exploration and a sweet submissive with a huge heart.
Chapter One – Demanding Doms
“Ideally, we want a sub that we both find attractive, but it’s the kinks that we are mainly interested in. Ivo is into medical play, and I’m more for bondage, sensation play, forced orgasms, that sort of thing. Naturally, we’ll both want to fuck him,” Griffin looked at Ivo, and Ivo nodded and said nothing.
It is better if Griffin spoke for them because his brain was organized to be best in this sort of situation; succinct, sensible, getting to the meat of the issue. The CEO briefing the room.
Ivo’s brain wasn’t like that, all Ivo wanted to say was, give me a boy that I can play with, give me a boy I can tether to my table and probe and slowly open and then sink into.
Griffin didn’t put his needs like that. He made bald statements without the hot details, but Ivo still got hard, his cock sluggishly filling against his thigh.
“I think it’s worth noting that we intend to play separately. If the contract is a success, then we don’t rule out scening together in the future, but that’s not a priority. Oh, and we neither of us like brats.” Griffin looked again at Ivo, checking in, and Ivo nodded again.
Dr. Gregory – he said they should call him Cash – peered at Ivo over his glasses, his moss-green eyes kind, a faint smile on his face. Ivo met his eyes across the cluttered desk and nodded again, “No, we don’t like brats,” he said. His voice sounded deeper, gruffer than he expected, “For this to work we need compliance. So we can have the scenes without drama, and then get back to being with each other.”
He felt Griffin tense beside him, his leg pressed against his own, hard, Wrong thing to say, made me sound inhuman, he thought, Should have stayed quiet.
Dr. Gregory looked at him quizzically.
“What Ivo means,” Griffin stepped smoothly into the faux pas, “Is that our relationship is the primary. The contract with Delphic is a sexual cherry on the top of the cake for us. We’re giving each other this as an anniversary present actually. I could have got him a new set of golf clubs; instead, I got us both a subscription to the Kink of the Month club!” he laughed, and Dr. Gregory smiled and made another note.
Everyone in the room knew that was a lie.
Ivo needed this, Griffin needed this, and their marriage needed this.
Ivo loved his husband, loved his heart and his drive, loved his skin and his cock and his panting breaths and his hot hands, and yet, he needed someone pliant and begging. He wanted big eyes that would well with tears and then flutter with bliss. He needed, he needed – what Griffin couldn’t give.
He swallowed, he wasn’t alone in this, Griffin needed it too and now, finally, they earned enough, they were open and trusting enough with each other, they could have this. He is sure they could have this. They have to have this.
Griffin was speaking again, and Dr. Gregory was listening carefully, head tilted to one side. “We want to start with a longer-term contract, three months minimum,” Griffin was relaxed now, talking logistics, “Three days a week and every other weekend. We’re happy for the sub to take on other contracts if they are feasible, but none that include an exchange of fluids because we both want to be able to come with him. Weekly testing would still be mandatory, of course.”
Ivo found himself drifting again. They had tried it, meeting each other’s needs, of course they had, they loved each other. They had tried to switch, and it had been a disaster. Ivo had taken it better. Griffin had dropped like a stone. Ivo had gritted his teeth and endured. Griffin hadn’t been able to look him in the face for days.
They were basically incompatible that way.
A contract with Delphic would solve everything, if it stayed neatly within the boundaries they built around it. They were professional men, they could manage this. God he hoped they could manage this.
“Married couples don’t do absolutely everything together,” Griffin had rationalised to Ivo when they got further than just hinting around the edges of the issue, “Nobody needs to witness anything, it will keep the mystique intact,”
And that sort of made sense to Ivo, although somehow he didn’t think that fucking a submissive fell into the same category of married life as toenail clipping and nasal hair trimming. But he couldn’t deny either Griffin or himself because he could feel himself and his marriage fading to shades of grey for lack of it.
He swallowed at the fear that suddenly knotted his stomach. He wasn’t used to fear, as a surgeon he was never fearful, but the thought of losing Griffin for lack of this scared the hell out of him.
About the Author
Romilly wakes up every morning and decides which (witch) to be. Some days Romilly is an Imp, some days a Fairy, some days a Stoic, and some days a Gladiator. Romilly has a classical education, a filthy mouth and loves OTK spankings and strong Sirs who give love and punishment in equal measure.
Romilly is also very shy but makes every effort to engage with people from all walks of life.
Continue to hide or help save the very kin she’s hidden from?
Continue to hide or help save the very kin she’s hidden from?
Welcome to SYN Consulting, the top business strategy consulting firm in Europe, home to a motley crew whose leader has a life changing secret. CEO, Danica Lestrange, is the first female dragon born in the last 800 years. Hidden from the rest of her kin and raised in the human world, she built a life that she would defend until her death.
A devious plan is unearthed while working on a new business deal that could plunge the dragons into another war with the humans. The humans may have forgotten the last dragon-human war, but the dragons have not. Will the war reveal this hidden world to the humans, or will the clans come together to defeat their enemies and maintain their anonymity?
Danica must gather her allies and help the very dragons she’s hidden from her whole life. She can only hope that she’ll be strong enough to protect her chosen family.
This is the first book in a new series about dragons who want nothing more than to live in peace, but refuse to be subjugated. In war there’s also love, and love is blind. Love doesn’t care about gender, race, species (in this case), or sexuality.
Attention: This book contains explicit sexual content between consenting adults. The sexual scenes are MM, MF, and MMF. There are romantic relationships depicted that are MM. There is also a high level of explicit language, snark, kink, and possibly bad puns and fart jokes.
This book ends in a cliffhanger.
Dragon War Chronicles is a continuous series. It is best read in order.
The Honeymooners: A Dragon War Chronicles Novella (Coming Fall 2020)
Cold Revenge (Coming Fall 2020)
About the Author
A.G. Carothers is actually a dragon very cleverly disguised as a human. They are a non-binary author of LGBTQIA Romance and Urban Fantasy, who enjoys writing original and entertaining stories. They are very excited to share the worlds they’ve created with you.
A.G. currently lives in Tennessee with their platonic life partner, who is not a dragon. They yearn to live back in Europe and will some day. In their spare time they are addicted to losing themselves in the lovely worlds created by other authors A.G. is committed to writing the stories they see in their head without restrictions. Love is blind and doesn’t see gender, race, or sexuality.
Lincoln Holt and Kent Scott, former lovers, find themselves thrust together again twelve years later after Linc comes home from the Army with an injury that Kent will be treating.
The tides tore them apart…
Lincoln Holt is a damn fine soldier – one of the best. But an ambush leaves Linc injured and many of his squad dead. Discharged and disillusioned, he heads back to the small town he’d once been desperate to leave. Then a physical therapy appointment brings him face to face with a grown-up, sexier version of the boy he had once loved, and Linc finds himself hoping against all hope for one more chance.
Time kept them apart…
Love doesn’t last. That’s Kent Scott’s belief after watching his mother bounce from husband to husband. His own short-lived affair with Linc is further proof – especially since Linc had left without saying goodbye. Kent had resolved to never let love dig its claws into him again. Then Linc lands in Kent’s clinic, looking taller, broader, and more gorgeous than ever, and Kent feels the pull.
Time and tides renew…
With every heady moment spent in Linc’s presence, Kent’s resolve weakens. But when Kent discovers a secret, all his doubts and fears come rushing back. The time and tides of life were once strong enough to keep them apart, but will love be enough to keep these forces at bay?
Welcome to The Changing Tides Inn, the perfect getaway for those looking for a little romance. Time and Tide is the second 77 000 word novel documenting the inn’s (and owner’s) impact on the lives of its guests and can be read as a standalone. Follow the guests’ adventures and be assured there will always be a happily ever after.
Kent made his way to the door, laptop tucked under his arm, but before he could get far, Linc’s hand snatched his. Startled, Kent looked back at Linc, who looked confused as he stared at their hands.
“Thank you, Kent,” Linc said after a long moment, dropping Kent’s hand. “This is the first time I’ve actually felt some relief since being home,” his voice trailed off, and he shrugged. “Just thank you.”
“Of course,” Kent said, not knowing what else to say. “We’re going to get you better, Linc. But it isn’t going to be easy.”
“You said that to me before,” Linc said, giving Kent a quick smile. “You’re probably not lying now either.”
Kent blinked at Linc before remembering the talk they had in the library during their first meeting as tutor and tutee. Kent had lost his patience with Linc, who had been moaning about baseball practice and the games coming up and how he was wasting so much time studying math with Kent when he should be in the gym. Kent had told him then and there that unless he gave some effort toward his math homework, Linc wouldn’t be playing ball period. That had shut Linc up enough to listen.
“It isn’t going to be easy,” Kent had said then. “But I guarantee that if you try, you’ll succeed.”
Kent stiffened at the memory, even as he answered Linc’s smile with a nod. He needed to remain professional here, not take a stroll down memory lane.
“You’re going to do fine,” Kent said. “Have a nice nap. If you need us, ring the bell on the cart.” With that, Kent snapped the light off and nearly ran from the room, leaving the door propped open so anybody could hear the bell.
Kent heaved a sigh of relief as he made his way back out to the gym. The appointment was over. All Kent had to do was unhook Linc when he was done, type up his notes and submit them. That would hopefully be the end of his professional relationship with Linc. With the extent of his injuries, it was very likely that his boss, Nick, would take over the case.
“Kent, how’d it go?” Nick asked, walking up to Kent from behind. Startled, Kent whipped around. Nick stood tall and wide, having been a college football star back before he decided physical therapy was his calling. He had his jacket on and a messenger bag slung over one shoulder. He must have just arrived.
“Fine,” Kent said with a tight smile. “Linc’s been through a lot, but I think he’s stubborn enough to make a full recovery. Won’t be easy.” Kent gave him a quick rundown of his eval, emphasizing that he would write up the report for Nick’s review later.
“Good work, Kent,” Nick said as they headed to the center desk. It was long, overlooking the gym, with connection hubs for each of the physical therapists’ laptops. None of them had private offices, instead choosing to work out in the middle of the action. Nick said it built a rapport with the patients and tech assistants, and it was always a good idea to have the physical therapists on hand for exercise questions that came up. Kent found he liked the busy atmosphere, finding a natural rhythm in preparing for a patient’s arrival and writing up session notes while his patients completed their exercises.
“I think he’ll be a great new patient for you. A challenge,” Nick continued. Kent froze in place, the words taking their sweet time to register fully in his brain.
“What?” he asked, voice small.
“Holt. I’m assigning him to you. Good luck.” With that, Nick turned his back to Kent and began to pull his own laptop from his bag, unaware that he had turned Kent’s world upside down.
About the Author
After reading no fewer than one million romance novels and earning her Master’s of Arts in English and Creative Writing, Bryce finally mustered up the courage to write her own. Filled with love, laughter, and steamy scenes, Bryce’s novels will welcome you deep into their pages.
Happily married with three kitties, Bryce can most often be found reading, crocheting, or trying to master Crow Pose. Or her next batch of cookies. Could go either way.
The Asylum Fight Club by Tibby Armstrong and Bianca Sommerland
Fated. Forged. Forever.
A place where men live and love by their fists—and ropes are for more than just the ring—The Asylum Fight Club isn’t the easiest place to live or work, but it’s a haven and a home for three men who’ve put their livelihoods—and lives—on the line to build a members-only gay sanctuary.
At the heart of The Asylum, Lawson Gaumond, Noah Leonov, and Curtis Smith, are three ex-lovers with one mission: to protect those they care for at all costs in an often unforgiving world of violence and vice.
They are three men, with one vision. Their bonds forged in blood. Fated to be together. Forever.
Genre/s: Contemporary M/M Romance
Overall Heat Rating for the series: 4 – 5 flames
Note: Depending on the book it could be either 4 or 5 but they aren’t erotica, so the sex is detailed, but part of the story, rather than the focus of the story.
If there were an emergency number for adulthood, Matt Kincaid would have dialed it months ago. Raising his kid brother alone is already an uphill battle, nevermind when an ugly gang initiation lands the teen in lockup. Again. Only, this time for a hate crime against a local fight club, where settling debts isn’t taken lightly. When the club offers to let Matt risk everything in a long-shot match with a man who’s as brutally handsome as he is tough, he jumps at the chance.
If Matt wins, all will be forgiven. If not? Well, he might as well move in, because ‘The Law’ will own his ass…for a very long time.
There are no limits to what Lawson ‘The Law’ Gaumond will do to protect the club he and his former lovers built. An inner-city sanctuary where Anniston Falls’ gay leather culture thrives, The Asylum Fight Club isn’t an easy place, but it’s home. Taking on a local hothead whose younger brother vandalized the space isn’t high on his priority list, but there’s something about Matt that cries out for a firm hand.
Lawson’s never backed down from a fight, and he’s not about to start when there’s no way he can lose.
When renewed gang violence erupts, spilling blood over The Asylum, Lawson and Matt must confront their pasts to find a way forward. Gunshots and knives should be harder to survive than this rough love, but coming to the ring armed with nothing but the truth is their greatest challenge of all.
The most important fight is for the truth.
Book Title: Beyond Justice (The Asylum Fight Club Book 2)
Raised and trained by The Asylum Fight Club’s most infamous owner, Reed Dane is almost untouchable. Might sound dope, but there are disadvantages to his ‘privileged’ status. His guardian’s reputation makes a serious relationship impossible—turns out the club’s members are addicted to breathing—and the one man Reed truly wants sees him only as a stray his former lover brought home.
An endless string of one-night stands lacks the intimacy Reed craves, but at least edgy post-fight hookups distract him from what he’ll never have. Until he takes a wrecking ball to the walls that set him apart.
Curtis Smith is a lot of things—MMA fighter, club owner…son of a drug lord—but one thing he’s not is prepared to face temptation exploding past his carefully built boundaries. Reed is forbidden, to him most of all, but resisting what they both want becomes impossible with the sub challenging him at every turn. And with his past threatening everything The Asylum has been built to protect, Curtis can’t afford to be addicted to Reed’s brand of candy coated sin.
He can’t deny himself one taste before his stolen time runs out. Because when it does, all that will be left behind for Reed is a memory…
And his heart.
He thought he’d had it rough, but he has a lot to learn.
Book Title: Hard Justice (The Asylum Fight Club Book 3)
Scandalous headlines threaten to turn Jamie Kent from a pop star to a pariah on the regular, but this latest one is a little too close for comfort. The Asylum Fight Club seems like a good place to hide out…until he has to prove he belongs—deep in a lifestyle with a contract and rules he breaks within the first five minutes. Staying means complete surrender, but a lifetime scripting love songs didn’t prepare him to give his heart to the one man who claims everything he has to offer.
The day he returns from prison.
Reputation has its own kind of power in a place where pain and pleasure depend on who’s in control. Entangled in the lives of those he’d give anything to protect, Noah Leonov rarely takes chances, but the hardened fighter refuses to abandon the vulnerable new sub to vultures who could tear his life apart with a camera flash. With the cage where he spent two years fresh in his mind, Noah won’t trap the man he loves in his brutal world. Jamie deserves the glamour and fame, where he can have more than a broken man can provide.
He belongs in the spotlight.
Neither man ever had the choice to decide their own destiny. Imprisoned by the roles they’re forced to play, their key to freedom might be to do the unexpected.
Refuse to let go.
One game cost him his freedom, now all he has to lose is his heart.
Book Title: Cold Justice (The Asylum Fight Club Book 4)
Breaking a few rules didn’t seem like a huge deal.
With his name on several government assasination lists, Wren Gibson’s prison sentence might’ve been the shortest in hacker history, until an unlikely rescue lands him behind the sturdy brick walls of The Asylum Fight Club. Where everyone can game the rules, yet he’s forbidden from even placing his piece on the board.
But one Dom tempts him to gamble everything.
The Asylum’s resident, on-call medic, Jared “Doc” McCleod is familiar with the histories of every man who crosses the club’s threshold. Their pain, their fear… Of them all, only Wren has held on to his secrets, a fascinating contrast with how completely he gives up control. As the general on the front lines of The Asylum’s internal and external battles, it’s Jared’s duty to make certain the quiet sub with soulful brown eyes doesn’t fly under his radar for long.
Showing his hand could cost them both.
When Jared takes on the task of helping Wren recover from an unexpected injury, Wren begins to wonder. While the Dom is tending to everyone else, who is there for him? To show Jared he can be the sub he needs, he would willingly light himself on fire. For an ex-con with a target on his back, risking that kind of notice is a dangerous strategy, but…
Sometimes, getting what you want requires going all in.
He never thought he could be more exposed.
Book Title: Raw Justice (The Asylum Fight Club Book 5)
The right kind of exposure is all porn star Keiran Stone needs to reach his ultimate goal of opening his own restaurant, until an ill-fated audition ends with a near-deadly confrontation on the doorstep of Anniston Falls, New York’s infamous gay fight club. Rescued by one of the club’s members, Kerian is offered a job as The Asylum’s chef, and taken under the club’s protection.
He finds more than a recipe for success.
Top-tier fighter, Dallas Stephens, enjoys a variety when it comes to play outside the ring. As a switch, he finds satisfaction at both ends of the whip. Commitment never appealed to him with relationships or careers, but Keiran’s sweet temptations whet Dallas’s appetite for more than a one-night-stand. Inside and outside of the sub’s kitchen.
Ordering off the menu can be dangerous.
As Keiran fights to establish his own place within The Asylum, threats to the club’s foundation leave both men caught in the crossfire. Love and loyalty show them they’re exactly where they belong, in the most important battle either will ever face.
Surviving it is another story.
Temptation can be deadly.
Book Title: Dark Justice (The Asylum Fight Club Book 6)
Renowned aerial artist Avery Dylan has a secret. He’s not who he seems to be. A mercenary by trade, he’s been activated by his handlers in a desperate move to bring down an impossible-to-reach target inside the infamous Asylum Fight Club.
When his high wire act proves easier to execute than one elusive submissive, Avery must resort to more than slithering silks and suggestive moves to breach the club’s defenses. Infiltrating its security requires sneaking past its most carefully guarded boundary—Rhodey Leonov’s heart.
But this is one drop that could kill.
When emotions distract from a mission, it never ends well. For the other guy. There are more headstones in Rhodey Leonov’s past than notches on his belt, which is a track record he lives with. Literally. Being unstoppable keeps his family safe. They may hate his methods, but so long as they’re in one piece, he can live with that.
Until an attack on The Asylum’s newest member reveals a weakness Rhodey can’t let stand. Having Avery recover in his bed for a few days could be a lethal mistake, though Rhodey’s not quite ready to reach for the shovel… Unless it’s to dig himself into the dark pit he’s escaped for so long. With a sub whose sweetness might be nothing but venom.
For both men, love isn’t an option, because falling only leads to one place…
A shallow grave.
NEW RELEASE – BOOK 7
The show must go on.
Book Title: Uneven Justice (The Asylum Fight Club Book 7)
One-time third-wheel in the boy-band Glam Grenade, Danny DiMarco’s existed just shy of center stage for as long as he can remember—a supporting player to two best friends who depended on him to pull their weight. While they made bank, he’s left reeling when his father’s death tangles his future in the red tape of empty contracts and drained accounts.
But the show must go on.
Jackson ‘Jacks’ Turner wears many hats, most of them gathering dust. An ex-model and an in-denial fashion designer, what he doesn’t plan to accessorize with is a newbie sub who shows up on his front doorstep looking for an introduction to the world of D/s inside Anniston Falls’ exclusive gay, members-only club.
Shea Warren is no stranger to covert ops. A Navy SEAL, he knows the ins and outs of hiding in plain sight. When Danny runs afoul of the club’s most powerful cliques on his first…and second…night as his roommate’s guest, the mission becomes clear. Protect the sweet, unassuming sub before he becomes a casualty of Jacks’ wear-em-once style.
There’s no rehearsal for this next set.
The Asylum might be more accepting of sequins and spandex than most, but Danny’s not coming to come out. In fact, with sponsors whose conservative ties pay his bills, it’s more than undesirable. It’s impossible. Except, sometimes Cupid has other plans.
Just when Danny needs to hide most, he’s headed for the last place he ever wanted to be…
In the spotlight.
About the Authors
Tibby Armstrong is a Contemporary, Paranormal, and LGBTQ Romance author who also writes Urban Fantasy.
When she’s not busy avoiding the gym, Tibby can be found munching on chocolate, sipping coffee, and scouring local bookstores for her next binge read.
Bianca Sommerland, author of the award winning Dartmouth Cobras series, was born and raised in Montreal, Quebec. After hitting the USA TODAY Bestsellers list, and being invited to teach several classes on writing in the sports and BDSM genre, she retreated to her writing cave and can still be found there, doing what she’s always done. Which is writing whatever the characters tell her to.
When not reading neurotically or writing as though the fate of the world rests on her keyboard, she is either watching hockey or teaching her daughters the beauty of a classic, steel pony while reminiscing about her days in Auto Body Mechanics. Her dream is to one day own enough land to park a few junkers on so she can work on restorations in her spare time. She also wants a pony. And while we’re sharing her wishlist, owning a tank is somewhere around number 5. Not that she would use it unless there’s a zombie apocalypse, but she does like to be prepared.
Her time is balanced with utmost care between ‘normal’ family life, and being lured into the fictional realm where her characters reside. For the most part, she succeeds.
Can passion in the shadows bring love to light? When Jordan, Ethan’s co-worker and casual hook-up, vanishes into thin air, the last thing he expects is to see him again. But when Jordan returns, wanting to get reacquainted, Ethan is afraid of getting too close. Chemistry sizzles between them, driving them to seek new heights of pleasure—including in semi-public places—exposing not just their bodies, but their souls—as they grow closer. Ethan wants more than a friend with benefits and the more he has of Jordan, the more he feels certain they’re a good fit. But destiny seems intent on pulling them apart just as they’ve reconnected. They’ll both have to find their courage and take a risk on lasting love.
The crack of the ball on the table made Ethan jump. It rolled to the pocket but missed by a sliver. Ethan grinned, grateful for a chance to play. He knew he wouldn’t win, not by a long shot since there were seven solid balls still on the table to Jordan’s three striped ones. If Ethan wanted a snowball’s chance in hell at winning, he’d have to change tactics. Well, Jordan said he wanted to play dirty. Ethan sauntered close to Jordan, until their chests were pressed together. Jordan was a little taller than Ethan’s six foot height, and he made a show of tilting his head up so that their lips lined up. Jordan’s tongue drifted out and sat at the corner of his mouth, his eyes boring into Ethan’s. Ethan grinned and turned around, knowing that his ass would push Jordan backwards as he bent over to eye his target. He heard the small gasp behind him as he moved the cue between the first two fingers of his left hand, and stopped, assessing the table again with a hum. “I think I need help,” Ethan said, turning over his shoulder, affecting a wide-eyed lost look. “Since you’re such an expert and all I figured—” “Sure,” Jordan said roughly. He drew closer, closing a hand over Ethan’s, his chest pressing hard into Ethan’s back. Ethan closed his eyes for a moment to gain some composure and inhaled a slow breath. “You want to make sure you line your eyes with the ball,” Jordan murmured against Ethan’s ear. “And make sure you hit the cue ball in the center so that it can travel straight out from the stick.” Jordan guided the cue back slowly and then jerked it forward just to give the ball enough momentum to put the solid ball into the corner pocket. Ethan canted his hips back so his ass brushed against the bulge in Jordan’s jeans. “You’re an excellent teacher,” Ethan murmured, tilting his head back. He only saw a bit of Jordan’s face, the position obscuring most of it, but what he saw was enough. Jordan’s lips were parted and when he swiped a tongue over his bottom lip, it took everything in Ethan’s control to not spin around and kiss him. There was a fluttering sensation inside of Ethan’s chest that grew stronger. He straightened up and assessed the table once more to distract himself. He didn’t want to play pool anymore, his mind a jumbled mess of things he wanted instead with Jordan. When he tried to make another shot, he scratched the cue over the top of the ball. Jordan tsked. “Such a terrible student,” he admonished playfully. He leaned over the table to line up his shot, and added, “To think I gave you valuable information—” The sentence cut off as Ethan bent over and gently blew on Jordan’s ear. Jordan’s arm skitted forward, knocking into a set of balls and scattering them everywhere. “Whoops,” Ethan said unrepentantly. “That is so wrong,” Jordan groused, pulling himself upright. “What the hell do you call that?” Ethan shrugged, leaning against the edge of the table next to Jordan and crossing his legs at the ankle. “You said you wanted to play dirty. I was just following the rules.” “Is that so?” Jordan asked quietly, edging closer to Ethan’s side. Ethan searched Jordan’s face for a moment, his stomach twisting in anticipation. Jordan was close enough that the warmth of his breath feathered over Ethan’s mouth. His hair was more grown out, and a small wave had fallen over his eye. Those dark brown eyes that sat heavy-lidded, and as he leaned closer Ethan felt his lips brush against his. The kiss was chaste, but Ethan’s body responded to it immediately. He concentrated on his breathing, hoping to calm the thundering in his chest. Jordan’s cologne, a mix of sandalwood and vanilla, overwhelmed Ethan’s senses. He wanted to get lost in the wave of it all, savor the familiar taste of it against his tongue.
About the Author
Gwen Martin lives in Florida where the sun is always shining, the humidity is always high, and Disney is just a hop skip away. When she’s not trying to write one of her million story ideas, she’s usually hanging out with her husband and four cats.
Gwen first started writing at a young age, coming up with stories in class instead of paying attention to the math lesson. Since then she has been exploring her love of writing in various fan communities where she has learned how to cultivate character development and romantic interactions.
She has a strong love affair with cold brew coffee, black cats, and nerding out in various fandoms. When she’s not writing, she’s reading everything she can get her hands on, listening to a lot of lo-fi and making playlists, chilling with her four gatos and obsessing about Pusheen. Because it’s always about Pusheen.
A celebrity accused of murder. A writer needing his big break. The lies that tie them together.
Accused of a murder he didn’t commit, vilified celebrity Jackson Young enlists the help of a rookie journalist to clear his name and write his biography.
Jackson has a secret though. One he must keep from becoming public. But Fletcher’s dreamy green eyes, Irish drawl and effortless charm makes it hard to suppress those long-buried feelings, even if it could compromise his innocence.
Uncovering the murky past behind Jackson’s rise to fame, Fletcher grows closer to a man he’d once declared as talentless, and their intense attraction starts to affect not only his professional integrity but the life he’d made since moving to London.
Falling for the subject of his book could be fatal for Fletcher, and Jackson should know better than to trust a journalist.
Fade to Blank is the first book in the London Lies trilogy set in 1999, and is a slow burn, enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort romantic suspense.
Fletcher drew troubled eyebrows in. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Okay? Okay?” Jackson breathed out a laugh that was more a release of pent up anguish. He’d always been taught to laugh in the face of adversity. He hadn’t been able to do much of that lately. Any flicker of amusement seeping out when in Flaymore would only have been captured by an inmate wanting a name for himself and used against him in the media. He rubbed his stinging eyes. “My girlfriend is dead. Someone strangled her whilst I was passed out in the other room. The world thinks I did it. I’ve spent six months inside because I wasn’t granted bail. This morning I wasn’t told that I was free because they believed I didn’t do it. They just couldn’t prove that I did. I can’t quite see how I would be okay after all that. Do you?”
Perhaps that was too blunt. Too much, too soon? Perhaps all this seeking the truth was coming across more selfish than he’d anticipated. It was. But the world was pointing at him. So he needed to prove his innocence to force people to look at who might have killed her, instead of allowing them to tie the noose around his neck.
And on that thought, his heart almost stopped. So the desperation kicked in. “I need you. Your help.”
Fletcher softened before him. “Okay,” he said. “Go on. Why would I, the fella you tried to knock out due to one bad review, want to write another article about you?”
“I want more than an article. And you’ll have a ready and waiting readership for this. It’ll rocket you to a fortune you never knew existed.”
“Wind your neck in, lad, that’s a touch arrogant there.”
“Arrogance doesn’t equal guilt.” Jackson leapt up from leaning against his bike, new found energy resumed. “Nor does it equal untalented.”
Fletcher glanced away, flicking his gaze back just as quick. “What are you talking here, then? A featured piece?”
Jackson forced a smile. “A full exposé of Jackson Young and why he isn’t the man he’s been depicted as in the media of late.”
“So this is all about you? Not… Tallulah?”
Jackson sucked in a breath at her name. It still stabbed at his heart, strangled his chest, erupted bile into his throat. He wondered if it would ever stop.
Scrubbing fingers across his perspiring forehead, Jackson had to find the right way to explain what he needed. What he had to do before it was too late and this was all hidden under the carpet as so many of the lies and manipulations already had been. He wasn’t sure how far he should go. How much he should admit he knew. There was the whole story. And there was his story.
“I was arrested for something I didn’t do,” he settled on. “I’ve been painted in the media as a monster. Pretty much all my friends and family have abandoned me because they believe people like you.”
“People like me?”
“People with the ability to write words and print them for the public to read, to believe and to act upon.”
“I never wrote about what happened to her. I’ve avoided talking about you, or her, since.”
“I know. Now I want you to.”
Jackson waited for the faint glimmer of understanding to work its way across Fletcher’s face. He had to know this would be the ultimate scoop for him. A writer, a journalist, a gossip columnist…whatever the man claimed to be, if he took this opportunity he could retire.
“I don’t write news. I write…gossip.” It sounded a lot like he hated to say that word, and his gaze blinked away from Jackson toward the glass frontage of London Lights HQ.
“I don’t want you to write for a paper. I don’t want this to be news, or gossip. This is the truth. My truth.”
“I’m not sure my editor will buy into it.” Fletcher sighed. “And if she did, she’d pass it onto the more seasoned journalists.”
“I don’t want your editor. I don’t want this in your poxy magazine.” Jackson spat the word, nodding toward the office block in contempt. He wanted nothing to do with any of that. Especially not London Lights. “This has got to be independent.”
“I don’t understand. I thought you wanted an exposé?”
Jackson stepped forward, a hair’s breadth from Fletcher, so close he could taste the man’s coffee breath. “Ever want to write something different? Something good. Something that could make a name for yourself away from the trash rags? Don’t you want to see your name on a shelf?”
“What type of shelf?”
“A book shelf. I want you to write my biography. So if you ever wanted your fortune handed on a plate, Fletcher Doherty…” Jackson held out his arms. “It’s here.”
About the Author
Brought up in a relatively small town in Hertfordshire, C F White managed to do what most other residents try to do and fail—leave.
Studying at a West London university, she realised there was a whole city out there waiting to be discovered, so, much like Dick Whittington before her, she never made it back home and still endlessly search for the streets paved with gold, slowly coming to the realisation they’re mostly paved with chewing gum. And the odd bit of graffiti. And those little circles of yellow spray paint where the council point out the pot holes to someone who is supposedly meant to fix them instead of staring at them vacantly whilst holding a polystyrene cup of watered-down coffee.
She eventually moved West to East along that vast District Line and settled for pie and mash, cockles and winkles and a bit of Knees Up Mother Brown to live in the East End of London; securing a job and creating a life, a home and a family.
After her second son was born with a rare disability, C F White’s life changed and brought pen back to paper having written stories as a child but never the confidence to show them to the world. Now, having embarked on this writing journey, she can’t stop. So strap in, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.
To win over the chief’s haughty son, a drug-dealing punk from a dysfunctional family must risk the only two things he has: his reputation and freedom.
Billy Redsky, a rebellious punk who loves art and nature, is saddled with a welfare-leeching, alcoholic mother and criminal older brother who are the joke of their Ojibway community. Sick and tired of being perceived as a loser, Billy deals drugs for his older brother to earn quick money. He hopes if he buys a dirt bike, he’ll finally impress the chief’s popular and aloof son, René Oshawee. When the two are forced to serve detention together, a friendship blooms, but much to Billy’s frustration, René keeps putting him on ice. To make his biggest dream come true if he finally wants to call René his own, Billy must make a huge decision that could cost him everything.
At the same time, they entered the office doorway. Billy’s side received a sharp elbow jab, and his lungs almost hurled from his throat. Pain. Major pain.
René pointed at the chair. “Sit. I’m going first. Unlike you, I don’t got all day to be playing around.” He strode to the counter. “Is Mr. Carlson in? Mrs. Lamb sent me.” The attitude in his voice melted into an ass-kissing, respectful tone.
“What for?” The secretary, with a big beehive straight out of the sixties, stood.
René pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “Redsky got into my little cousin’s face. I have to talk to Mr. Carlson about it.”
“Okay. Let me buzz you in.” The swinging-sixties secretary reached for the phone.
Never mind his aching side. Billy scrambled from the chair. “I ain’t taking the rap for this. You started it, loser.”
René whipped around. “What’d you call me?”
“I called you a loser.” Billy fisted his hands.
“You worthless punk.” René held up his finger in a lecturing gesture just as the teachers did. “Wanna talk about losers? Your mom and brother are total alkies and welfare leeches. It’s people like your family who give reds a bad name. That’s why everyone hates on us and says we’re a bunch of drunks sucking the taxpayers dry.”
“Is that what Chief Oshawee says when you’re having your fancy steak supper? Or maybe your mom says it ‘cause she’s some bigshot accountant?” The jeer flew from Billy’s mouth.
“Give it a rest, boys.” Mr. Carlson’s thick voice whirled into their argument. “My secretary told me you both were sent here. René,” he pointed at the door, “into my office. And, Billy, sit down. We’ll talk once I hear René’s version.”
It figured Prince Oshawee would get to go first. At least Billy had been smart enough to pass off his stash to Lonn before being sent to the vice principal’s office.
For ten minutes, Billy waited, and waited, and waited, the second bell having already rung. René was probably painting a sham picture of Billy shoving dope down Stuart’s throat.
The door to the vice principal’s office opened. René huffed out. He shook back his shoulder-length, thick, almost-black hair and trounced from the reception area into the main hall.
Instead of raw fury searing Billy, being ignored by the royal spare was sharp teeth sinking into his skin. Big deal. He didn’t give a shit about anyone or their opinion. Especially an Oshawee.
“Billy…” Mr. Carlson and his big gut filled the doorway. “In here. Now.”
Billy slunk into the office and flopped in the usual stiffer-than-a-board chair opposite the massive oak desk. He dropped his backpack and his frustration onto the floor. There was no point in arguing. Chrome Dome would believe an Oshawee over a Redsky.
Mr. Carlson sat on his king-style throne. “Fighting again?”
What could Billy say? Nothing.
“I didn’t think so.” Mr. Carlson picked up the phone and flipped through his Rolodex. “I have business to attend to. You’ll report to room two-o-two after school. We have a new strategy when it comes to physical disputes. You’ll find out then when you get there. Dismissed.”
About the Author
An Ojibway from Northwestern Ontario, Maggie resides in the country with her husband and their fur babies, two beautiful Alaskan Malamutes. When she’s not writing, she can be found pulling weeds in the flower beds, mowing the huge lawn, walking the Mals deep in the bush, teeing up a ball at the golf course, fishing in the boat for walleye, or sitting on the deck at her sister’s house, making more wonderful memories with the people she loves most.
A werewolf with a death wish bargains with a hunter for salvation.
Justin has spent several lifetimes atoning for the violent nature of his curse. A mindless angry beast several nights a month, he carries a burden of blood for past sins. Tired and lonely, he’s seeking an end to his torment.
Vincent bears the curse, though only by half. A hybrid, he hunts those of his brethren who let their monsters take over. And he’s hell bent on destroying them all, until he’s forced to deal with one who’s begging for peace. Except deliverance wears many guises.
Their desire for redemption erupts in a fiery passion drawing them closer together.
“Because you are so closed-minded you can’t see anything but what you want to see. Justin is a good person. He didn’t ask to be what he is. We can still find the one who bit him!”
Vincent laughed, a clear cynical sound behind it. “If he can find the one who made him. The number of werewolves grows every day. It’ll be impossible. So, no. He has to die!”
Justin had heard enough. He stepped forward and called, “Vincent.”
Vincent whipped his head around and smiled, harsh and bitter. “So you decided to show. This human means that much to you?”
“Let her go,” Justin snarled, ignoring Vincent’s question. “Then we can fight.”
“I’ll let her go… once you’re dead.”
Justin pulled the sword from his back and moved into the light shining from the fountain. “Let’s do it then.”
“Ah, so the little boy went and got himself a big knife, did he? Do you even know how to use it?” Vincent taunted him.
He did an expert twist of his wrist, sending the blade of the sword spinning around him. Vincent’s eyes narrowed just before he attacked. Their blades clashed against one another as they fought; their movements almost an elegant dance between them. “So you’ve had some training, kid? It’s not enough to save your ass.”
Vincent thrust at him, but Justin cut up with his sword and sent Vincent’s flying into the air. The blade clattered against the ground, landing a few feet from them. Before Justin could strike at him again, Vincent leapt backward, grabbed his sword, and flipped, landing several yards away from Justin. Justin knew it wasn’t going to be an easy fight.
Circling one another, their swords glinted in the moonlight. Justin narrowed his eyes while he waited for Vincent to make the first move. Too impatient to wait for Justin to make his move, Vincent went to strike once more. Justin blocked the blow and attempted a return hit, but Vincent was too fast, crashing his sword into Justin’s. Swords crossed at the blade, Justin thrust upward and managed to nick Vincent’s cheek. Vincent cursed, jumped backward, and touched the small cut. His fingers were dark with a smear of blood when he dropped his hand from his cheek. Justin smiled mockingly at him. “Aw. Did I cut you?”
Vincent curled his lip into a snarl and rushed toward Justin with his sword raised. The fight continued for some time, and eventually they stood facing one another, panting for breath. Justin could see Vincent’s anger reflecting outward from bright violet eyes. He’d never met another person with eyes the shade of amethyst. If he were honest with himself, Vincent would have caught his attention many years ago. The broad shoulders, gorgeous white hair, high cheekbones, and obvious strength rang all of Justin’s bells. Of course, the idea of Vincent ever having an interest in him caused Justin to snort.
The sound set off the next chain of events, flaming Vincent’s rage even higher, or so Justin figured when Vincent struck harder than before. They circled each other. Vincent took the next chance to slice at Justin, but Justin grabbed his wrist and wrenched him forward and over his shoulder, sending Vincent’s sword across the ground to Kara’s feet with a clatter of metal on the cement. Justin immediately pinned Vincent underneath him. Breathing heavily, Justin sat there atop Vincent for several seconds without a word, trying to catch his breath.
“I don’t want to kill you,” Justin rasped.
Vincent looked up at him in skepticism. “Why?” Vincent demanded.
Justin retained eye contact with him. “Because I don’t like hurting someone who hates those monsters just as much as I do.”
Vincent seemed to contemplate Justin’s words, and then something seemed to click inside Vincent. The fight left his body. Justin became aware of Vincent’s hard body against his, their suggestive position, and what it could have meant in another world. Flushing, Justin stood and held his hand out to Vincent, who studied him for several heartbeats before allowing Justin’s help up from the ground. Justin rushed to Kara’s side to untie her hands and massaged them to bring the feeling back into them.
“Don’t think this means I trust you, wolf,” Vincent growled as he retrieved his sword. “If you even so much as look at a human in the wrong way, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”
The sound of his sword bottoming out in its sheath punctuated his promise.
Kara glanced at him and snapped, “How do we know we can trust you?”
“You don’t.” Without another word, he strode off into the darkness.
About the Author
J.R. Loveless began her adventure in writing romance at the young age of twelve. Her foray into creating her own worlds and telling her characters’ life stories was triggered by her own love of reading. She currently resides in South Florida with her dog and two cats, volunteers for an animal rescue in her spare time, and works as a manager for a financial lending institute. Someday she hopes to begin writing as a full-time career and bringing more of her ideas to life.
Her journey into gay romance began in 2005 when she began posting her original fiction on a forum for feedback and readers’ pleasure. In 2010, a good friend urged her to submit to a publishing company, and the day she received the acceptance and contract was the best day of her life. Since then, she has been noted to be one of the most purchased audio books after Fifty Shades of Grey on Audiobook.com, received best gay romantic fiction for Touch Me Gently in the 2011 TLA Gaybies, and even received an award for Chasing Seth in 2012.
They targeted him before he was ever born. They will hunt him. They will execute anyone around him. They will rip his innocence away, corrupt him, and twist him into an instrument of terror. He will give the world reason to fear, fear the unknown, and he will do this lifetime after lifetime after lifetime.
Except this time, Daniel Davis hasn’t come back alone.
Four souls have returned with him, would-be protectors who’ve vowed to shield him from this fate. If they succeed, Daniel will turn what is into what can be. And if they fail, his light will dim and fade…forever.
“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.” Amanda grabbed a blanket from the inside of the vehicle and wrapped it around Daniel, then took a clean cloth and held it up to his chin. He’d need stitches and there’d be one hell of a scar. “Look at me.” He did, still shaking.
She’d almost been a moment too late. A second of hesitation and he’d be dead. What did the intruder want? What had he been looking for? And why did he scream what he did at Daniel?
Let me see your eyes. It’s in there, isn’t it? Deep down you can feel it.
The intruder’s words. Why the eyes? What was in them? What had he looked for? And why would Daniel feel it? Why did all of this feel so familiar to her? She knew the answers somewhere in the back of her memory, just out of reach. Why couldn’t she remember?
You can’t hide from us! We’ll find you again and again and again!
This had happened before. It happened now. It would happen again. Unless…
She studied the young boy’s face, the remains of a kind of innocence now lost and something new dawning. He’d never be the same again. Ever. Nobody prepared him for this. Not this young. How did one recover? With time? Without his mother or father?
Daniel began sobbing anew, as if reading her mind about his parents, whom she was sure he already missed.
“You’re—” Her voice cracked and she struggled not to break down in front of him. He didn’t need that. He needed strength. “You’re safe, baby. You’re safe now, Daniel.”
He stared into her eyes now. Was he searching for truth, or to see the depths of her own demons compared to his?
She met his gaze with her own and peered into his eyes. Blue. The blue eyes she’d seen in her recent dreams when he’d appeared much older. Still there, but… She felt her head tilt to the side as she searched even deeper. Beyond the blue. Something else. Something new. Foreign. Fear? No. Fear was on the outside, on the surface, but below the fear in a place he couldn’t feel or know existed inside himself? Shadows. Something that didn’t belong. A blackness, a blackness that swirled around in its infancy, as if waking.
The intruder is responsible for this. He woke this thing.
The blackness stopped moving for a moment. Did it sense her? She stared at it and some part of it intuitively stared back at her. The blackness knew her. They were old acquaintances. And if the thing, this entity or presence…whatever the hell it was…could have sneered at her, she knew it would have.
Have you ever heard a child scream as if their soul was being ripped apart at the seams? Like there’s no safe place in Heaven, Earth, or in-between that’s safe.
Where did these words come from? When did she say them? Part of her understood she never had, and yet another part, the part far back in her mind, knew she had. But when? How could that even be possible? Amanda also understood Daniel’s soul was infected and this thing inside him would take great joy in ripping him apart.
“You’re safe now, Daniel,” she repeated, mostly to reassure herself, only she knew deep down it wasn’t true.
The darkness in Daniel’s eyes began its dance anew.
…it’s going to eat him from the inside out.
Her words again? When did she say this?
“You’re not going to get him,” she muttered.
The darkness found an opening and began to disappear behind Daniel’s eyes, hiding beyond the physical, beyond reach. Beyond her reach.
He’s already ours.
Daniel began to shake.
About the Author
Kristoffer Gair grew up in Fraser, MI and is a graduate of Grand Valley State University. He is the author of 7 novels—some written under the pseudonym Kage Alan—been a part of 6 anthologies, and currently lives in a suburb of Detroit.