BLOG TOUR: “The Last Son of Venus” by Dion Marc


Book Title: The Last Son Of Venus

Author and Publisher: Dion

Release Date: January 29,

Genre: MM Dark Urban Fantasy

Tropes: Fated Mates, Size
difference, Alpha Top

Themes: Trust yourself, don’t follow anything blindly, magic, gods,
good vs evil

Length: 87 000 words/330
paperback and 340 hardcover

Heat Rating: 4

It’s the first book in a planned
series and ends on a cliffhanger.


Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US | Amazon UK

Paperback or Hardcover also
available from

B&N | Angus Robertson

Darkness hungers for the
child of love.


Alone and in London for the first time, Alex Anderson is
being hunted by the
darkness as the fates have
seen fit to turn his dream holiday into his worst
nightmare before he even steps foot out of the airport.

An archaic evil hungers for him and will stop at nothing to
possess the
twenty-two-year-old and the coveted secrets that have been hidden from
Alex his whole life.

All that stands in their way is a two-and-half-thousand-year-
old spartan
Commander named Nikos and his fellow guardian sidekick Jin; a pink haired descendant of the goddess Hekate.

Nikos will move heaven and hell to protect Alex even if that
protecting him from himself.

When boy meets man sparks fly and an instant bond is felt,
a connection
that feels as old as the fabric of time.
But Alex must first learn to trust Nikos
and Jin while
fighting his anxieties that have controlled his life if he has any
hope of surviving what’s to come.

The Last Son Of Venus is the first in the fast-paced LGBT
fantasy romance
series of the same name
featuring queer male characters, high fantasy
creatures, magic and the true gods of old. The Last Son of Venus will take
you on a long multi-series journey to a well-deserved HEA. So come and
join Alex and Nikos and see what the Fates
have in store.


Bitter wind violated my exposed flesh, sending a deep chill
to the very core of my bones. Mother had warned me that London was cold, but I thought
she meant cold like Melbourne in winter, not winter in Antarctica. If it wasn’t for the fact
that my jumpers were all packed down at the very bottom, I would have stopped and added
an extra layer of protection. But I was cold and feeling far too lazy to reorder my bag, so I
went without. Yes, I was an idiot.

As per the map’s instructions, I turned right onto Gillingham
Street. It was becoming really

hard to focus on the map because the streets were barely
lit. I cursed myself inwardly that I didn’t just buy a portable phone charger, but I would be
sure to rectify my error first thing tomorrow. My goodness, this would be a lot smoother if I
was using my phone’s Google Maps. Anyway, what was done was done.

For a Saturday, there was very little nightlife, which I
thought was odd considering what I knew about Londoners and drinking, although I have to
say my knowledge on the subject was like ninety-five percent based on Geordie Shore
reruns. But still, there was not a soul on the street.

I could feel my anxiety grow; it wasn’t helped by the fact
that some random man told me someone was trying to kill me—though he wasn’t some
random man, was he? He knew my name. I felt a shiver run up my arms; I didn’t think I
could feel any colder. Maybe I should have stayed and heard him out before running
away…again, if I had, maybe he had a portable phone charger.

Looking back down at the map, I estimated I had maybe
another six-minute walk ahead, although I wished I had just paid for the stupid cab fare, but
I really couldn’t justify the cost for, what, maybe four hundred metres. I walked further
every day on my morning run.

The light flickered in the lamppost above. How strange. It
flickered again, but this time, it didn’t light back up. I was plunged into darkness as the rest
of the streetlights also extinguished.


My anxiety started to peak, and my instincts told me to get
out of there fast. All of a sudden, I felt eyes on me. Shit shit shit. My pace quickened into a
slight jog, my bag swinging heavy behind me.

Why did it feel like the approaching darkness was watching
me? I looked up to the sky where once a moon sat giving light to the sky, but now it was
gone, shrouded by darkness. I started to shake uncontrollably; I couldn’t tell if it was from
the cold or my anxiety. Both seemed to be at war for dominance over my body and mind.

A sound emerged through the darkness, muttered voices. I
started to run, every fibre of my body telling me to do so. My flight response was fully
active, I flew down the street, but the voices seemed to be gaining on me. They were now
close enough to hear what it was they were chanting. “Consumptura est lux tenebris.” They
repeated it over and over.

I crossed the street in mere seconds, but was stopped from
going further by a gate of iron. I turned to go around, but to the left of me, I found that the
men were closing in on me. Looking to the right, they were doing the same yet only metres

Fuck fuck fuck, my only option was to jump the fence. It
wasn’t very tall, so I knew I could make short work of it. I put my hands on the spikes and
pushed down, lifting my body. I swung my legs up and jumped down. The hem of my shirt
got caught on a spike, lifting my shirt up, trapping my arms. “FUUUUCK!” I yelled, trying to
fumble myself free. I was shaking so violently, I could barely unhook it, the process taking
minutes rather than seconds.

It came loose just as the men closed in. It was then that I
realised my duffle bag’s strap must have also gotten caught on the spike as it lay broken just
on the other side of the fence, but I could clearly see the men’s robes of red now. I hadn’t
the time to retrieve it. I’d have to let it go and hope I found it later after I had made it to a
police officer.

Even the darkness seemed to draw dimmer. How was that
possible? Turning, I started to run, pushing past plants and shrubs, pulling my shirt back
down as I ran.

Their chant suddenly changed, I could now hear their voices
ringing in my head as if they were whispering right into my ears. “Arbores et plantae saxa
animari, prohibere eum.” Their chant had changed. It felt as if the trees were drawing
closer, which couldn’t be so.

Something grabbed my foot. I let out a scream as I fell to
the ground hard. What was that? I looked around, but all I could see was grass. I must have
tripped over a root or something, though I couldn’t see one. Getting back on my feet, my
left ankle felt swollen, and as I put pressure on it, I let out a loud scream. I hoped against
hope that it was just twisted and not broken. I tried to run, but the pain was just too great.

CRASH. The gate lifted from the ground and flew into a
tree. The robed men continued to follow me. FUCK.

“HELP! Someone, anyone, help me!” I shouted.

One of the men raised his hand at me, and my voice
faltered. I tried to let out a scream, but my voice was gone. What in the name of Ursula the
sea witch was this? All I could do was try limping away.

Roots lifted from the ground before my very eyes, spraying
moss into the air, leaving the earth a maze of traps, clearly designed to stop my escape.
What was I to do? I tried to hop over them, the pain forcing tears to fall from my eyes. But
the pain didn’t stop me. I continued to push myself, for my life clearly depended on it.

“Corrumpam vineam eius,” shouted one of the robed men.
Instantly, vines fell from the trees and launched themselves at me. I ducked and missed the
first one, but the rest found their target, instantly forcing me to the ground, wrapping
around me like dangerous pythons.

The roots curled up, pulling me to face the robed men,
forcing me to watch as they approached. The men were dressed in robes of red. I could just
make out a crucifix scar on one of the men’s outstretched arms. Wrapped around their
hands were what looked to be rosary beads, but something looked wrong. It seemed like
the beads dug into their hands, drawing out a dark fluid.

The wind changed, and the smell of metallic ooze hit my
sinuses, causing my nose to curl. That answered the question of what the fluid was: it was
blood. I struggled with everything left in my body, but it was no use, the vines just grew
tighter and tighter, almost to the point of breaking bone.

“Help me,” I prayed inwardly. “Someone, please.”

A man in the centre stepped forward chanting with the
others, “Accipere auferat divina virtute.” Something jabbed into me sharp like a needle,
causing unimaginable pain to flow through me. I screamed and screamed, but no sound
escaped me. Whatever it was it felt like it was crawling through my veins.

He continued forward towards me, chanting. Only a few
feet away, I could now clearly make out his face that was hidden by a hood. He looked to be
in his mid-fifties with a full white beard, long hooked nose, and beady black eyes. He
kneeled beside me and raised his outstretched hand over my face. I tried to close my eyes,
but they were forced open. The man squeezed his palm into the rosary beads, which I could
now see were made of jagged barbed wire that cut into his flesh. As the man squeezed,
blood fell like water droplets over my face. On impact with my flesh, it sizzled like acid; it
smelled like it too. I was truly dead. My only thought was on my
parents, hoping they would be able to get past my death. My vision started to
fade to black. This was the end of me. My eyes finally closed. I had no strength anymore.
Maybe death wouldn’t be so bad? And with that thought, it all went silent.


The earth reverberated. There was loud running, yelling,
and what sounded like sandbags hitting a wall, but I couldn’t open my eyes to see. They felt
like they were welded shut.

“You must continue the chant!” shouted a voice that felt
like spiders crying in my ears.

The chanting started again. “Accipere auferat—” But was
cut off mid-sentence as what sounded like thunder struck the earth. I needed to run, move,
get up, break the bonds holding me. My brain told me this, but it was as if I was buried

Something dropped beside me. It radiated warmth. I
wanted to lean into it. I tried to but failed. I wanted it closer. “Please come closer,” I begged
the universe, and by some grace, it did. I felt a hand on my cheek; it was warm to the touch.
Who was this? What was this? Again, I tried to open my eyes but failed. I started to panic
again. This couldn’t be the end. My mind started to race. Mentally, I was thrashing back and
forth, wishing my body to do the same. This feeling of disconnection was the scariest thing I
had ever felt.

“By Zeus, Alex, gods fucking dammit, your lips are blue,”
growled a familiar voice. Was it the Adonis? It sounded like him, and for some unexplainable
reason, I hoped it was him. I could feel his hands on me. Everywhere he touched, I felt

“Jin, we’re going to need a recovery charm,” he yelled at an
unknown person.

“Babes, I am fucking busy if you didn’t realise, you know,
holding off the Priests of Bellum Sacrum,” bit back an unknown, effeminate voice.

“Fuck it all to Hades, you couldn’t have just come with me
at the train station.” The Adonis’s voice turned gravelly. But I couldn’t follow him at the train
station because he was a stranger. I didn’t know him; therefore, I couldn’t trust him. But was
he here now to save me? So maybe that meant I could trust him?

“Fuck it, we’ll have to swap,” called the Adonis back to the
person he called Jin, I assumed.

No, don’t leave me! He can not leave me. Don’t take the
warmth away. I’m so very cold. As if he could hear me, he assured, “Don’t worry, Alex, I’ll be
back.” Then he was gone. The coldness set back in, his warmth only a haunting

Thunder struck the earth again; there were more screams
of pain and terror. The smell of metallic ooze grew almost too strong to possibly bear. A
thud beside me. Was it the Adonis? It couldn’t be because this person didn’t radiate warmth
like he had. Was he friend or foe?

“Queen, don’t even stress, okay, I’m here to help you, boo.”
It was that voice again; it was distinctly fem, but like fem male, not a fem female. I assumed
it was Jin, but I really wished I could open my eyes and stop all the guesswork.

“Álysoi kaí desmá nýn spázete.” I felt warmth all over my
body. Suddenly, I felt weightless like I was flying in the air. The darkness began to fade as a
white light came towards me. I tried to meet it halfway.

Light burst into my reality as my eyes flew open,
temporarily blinding me as my eyes readjusted. A man who couldn’t be any older than
myself stood over me, his hair fairy-floss pink, kept neat and short on the side with a front
fringe that covered the tops of his brows.

“Is he awake yet?” yelled the Adonis from somewhere just
out of my field of view. “Yes, fuck, give me a second, Miss Bossy Tiger,” snapped the pink-
haired man. He turned and spoke to me, trying for a soothing voice, but came off very

“Hi, Alex, my name is Jin. I’m going to need you to stand up.
Can you do that for me, dolls?” But wasn’t I tied to the ground by vines?

“Jin, get him the fuck up now. We need to move!” said the
Adonis, running back into view. “I’m trying,” he responded.

“Then try harder.”

Before I could process what was happening, one of the
robed figures instantly appeared

behind the Adonis, bloodied dagger outstretched ready to
strike, going for the killing blow. “NOOOOOOOO!” I screamed, sending out a blast of energy
that felt like it came from my

very soul. I couldn’t let the Adonis die.

Gusts of power forced the robed man into the air, flying
back with a loud crunching sound

into a tree. The dagger burst into smoke. It took me a
moment to realise what it was I had done. My body retracted inwardly, instantly forming a
ball. What had I just done? I started to rock

back and forth, tears falling from my eyes.


I was a freak, and I may have just killed someone. I needed
my mother to tell me it would be okay, but she wasn’t there, so I didn’t know what to do. I
needed to know I didn’t just kill someone. “Shhhh, calm down, it will all be okay,” said Jin

But it wasn’t going to be okay; nothing was. It would never
be okay again. “Right, fuck this. Get the fuck up now, idiot, before you get us all killed,”
growled the Adonis.

I just looked at him, like was he kidding? Like really, was he
kidding? The rudeness. I was

going through something. Instantly, my anxiety and grief
turned to anger like a light switch. I was standing up, pointing my finger at him. “Who the
hell do you think you are? Do not EVER talk to me like that again, do you understand?”

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly; the barest
whisper of a smile ghosted his face. “That got you up, now didn’t it?”

About the Author

Scottish Australian author Dion Marc lives and breathes queer art. Whether he is
painting, writing, sewing or dancing naked in
the moonlight he does it with pride. He is a practising
Hellenistic polytheist who believes in healing the world one hug at a time and that
drinking tea without a biscuit is a horrendous

Dion has spent over eleven years working full time in film and television as a Makeup
Artist, Hairdresser, Wig Maker and Costume
Designer. For the last year Dion has been working on the award-winning theatrical shows Hamilton, Moulin Rouge and more recently
full-time on Harry Potter and the Cursed Child
as a hair and makeup artist.

Author Links

Blog/Website | Facebook Group | Instagram


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BLOG TOUR: “End of the Line” by AG Meiers. $10.00 Amazon Gift Card Giveaways Included!


Book Title: End of the Line

Author: AG

Publisher: Painted Hearts

Release Date: July 7,

Genres: Contemporary M/M
Romance Suspense – Two men falling in love while budging bullets and chasing bad

Tropes: Mistaken identity /
opposites attract / lone wolf meets stubborn pretty boy / age gap / found family

Themes: Falling in love / chasing
bad guys / overcoming trust issues / finding balance and letting go of other people’s

Length: 77 672

Heat Rating: 4 flames

It is a standalone book and is
the first in the series to be published.
It does not
end on a cliffhanger.
Suspense and Romance is
complete, but there’s a 2
nd book with a new couple and a continuation of the suspense


Buy Links

Amazon US | Amazon UK

Opposites Attract…T R O U

B L E…


Jake Devlin knows trouble when he sees it and he wants no
part of it. His quiet, peaceful life is a hard-fought dream. And the man who stumbles through
the backdoor of Jake’s bar—beaten to hell—he is trouble with a capital
T. The last thing Jake
needs is to get involved with the sexy and secretive stranger. He
definitely shouldn’t
offer him a place to stay. But…he does…

Murder and mayhem follow Detective Miguel Conway. One
minute he’s working a case, and the next, his cover is blown and he barely escapes with his
life. Con didn’t expect Jake to offer help when he needs it most. And he
definitely wasn’t
prepared to fall for the grumpy ex-Marine. But…he does…

Attraction sparks as the two men are thrown together to
figure out who wants to keep Con quiet and why. Well, at least Con is trying to solve his case.
Jake is mainly trying to protect the young, impulsive cop. Midnight stakeouts, a celebrity
wedding, and passion-filled nights—can Jake and Con find the balance between taking risks
and keeping safe? And turn attraction into happily ever after?

But none of that matters if they fail to get the target off
Con’s back…

Series: End of
the Line
, Book 1 in the award-winning Jake’s
Bar series, is a steamy, M/M romantic suspense featuring a rainbow-colored bar full of
quirky characters, and all the romance you can handle. It’s a place where you can always find
support (and a cold beer) when life spins out of control. So, download today, and get ready
to fall in love with Jake’s Bar.


A gay bar. Thank you, Jesus. A fucking gay bar. Loud and
proud. Con’s kind of place, but none of Murphy’s men would be caught dead in here. Con’s
body hurt all over, but they hadn’t found him. He’d given his pursuers the slip and was out of
the rain.

About an hour ago—close to two in the morning—Jake had
flipped the lights on and kicked everybody out. People barely dared to finish their drinks
when the big, bulky man with his booming voice told them to
go the fuck home. Con would be
surprised if any of them would come back. Damn, Jake was something else. Con had a thing
for guys who took charge and thinking of it sent sparks down his spine.

Jake had offered Con to call it a night as soon as the last
guest had left the place. Clearly, he hadn’t missed that Con was moving slower and slower as
the night progressed. And fuck, his ribs hurt something fierce. Still, he had declined Jake’s
offer to leave right away. The bar owner had raised an eyebrow, but much to his relief, Jake
had started to put the chairs up himself while Con got a broom. And every time he tried to
do anything but sweep, Jake had thundered at him to stay out of the way.

“Are you trying to dig a hole with that broom? I think that
corner is clean enough,” Jake said quietly from across the room, his tall frame propped
against the bar—arms crossed—watching. Jake’s calm focus sent chills over Con’s body as he
forced himself to relax with a few more long inhales and exhales. His overtired brain fired
some images of being at the receiving end of Jake’s laser sharp attention under different
circumstance—with a whole lot less distance between them, and fewer clothes. Jake was
hot in an angry, pissed-off way. Square. Solid. A force to be reckoned with.

Loud tapping of Jake’s fingers onto the bar brought Con
back from his wayward thoughts. For a moment, the impatient rhythm was the only sound,
then Jake let out a huff of air and said, “Listen, I’m not sure how to ask this, but—do you
have anywhere to go tonight?”

“Yes, of course, I—” Con’s answer had been a reflex, but he
actually had no idea how to end this sentence.

“You can stay here if you have nowhere safe to go.”

Nowhere safe. How did he know? Con’s heart skipped a beat and then started to race again in his
chest. His eyes shot over to the front door.
the fuck did he know?

“Hey, calm down.” Jake pushed himself up from the counter
and walked a few steps closer but then stopped again. “You have no defensive wounds. And,
well, you’re a big dude, so I wonder what happened to you tonight.”

Three against one. I never had a chance.

“It’s fine. You’re safe. Is it okay if I touch you?” Jake was
suddenly by his side, his voice soft. Gently, a hand came down on his shoulder. “It’s okay.
Why don’t you just stay on my couch tonight?”

The warmth of Jake’s hand seeped through his skin. Con
gritted his jaw to steel himself against the sudden need to lean in. Any other time, he’d have
given Jake crap for treating him like a wounded animal, but his beat-up body was starting to
give in on him. “That would be great,” he managed through clenched teeth.

About the Author

Eighteen years ago, AG
Meiers came to the US for adventure and stayed for love. Currently, she lives in New England
with her husband and two awesome kids—balancing work, friends and family, and

When she has some free
time, her favorite thing to do is travel and visit new places. Her past trips have already
brought her to a variety of countries on four continents. She never passes up an opportunity
to experience different cultures, diverse people and amazing locations.

Even though she has been
dreaming up stories all her life, she has only recently started to write them down and share
them with the world. As a writer she loves to put her characters through a lot of challenges,
conflict and heartbreak, before she allows them to find their happy-ever-after.

Author Links

Blog/Website |
Facebook | Instagram


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BLOG TOUR: ” Naughty by Nature.” Amazon $50.00 Gift Card Giveaway Included!


Book Title: Naughty by
Nature: A Gay Erotica Anthology

Cover Artist: Samantha
Santana, Amai Designs

Release Date: July 1,

Genre: M/M erotica short stories

Trope: Outdoor sex

Themes: Coming out, forgiveness

Heat Rating: 5 flames

Length: 75 000 words/314



Buy Links

Universal Link | Amazon
| Amazon UK


Boy meets boy… and
nature takes its course!



From strangers in the night to happy couples looking for a
little spice, Naughty by Nature has the story for you. Each short story features steamy adult
encounters in the great outdoors, not to mention a delicious variety of kinks. After all,
roughing it shouldn’t have to mean giving up all our creature comforts that bring…

So grab your
sleeping bag and get back to nature in all the best ways. With a total of eleven stories by

some of your favorite MM Romance authors, you’re sure to find something to have you
howling at the moon in no time!

Featuring stories

Abigail Kade


C.J. Vincent

Elizabeth Silver

Evie Hampton

Gia Reaves

Julia Talbot

Lynn Van Dorn

Marie Sinclair

Pandora Pine

Shane K. Morton


All author links




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Continue ReadingBLOG TOUR: ” Naughty by Nature.” Amazon $50.00 Gift Card Giveaway Included!

BLOG TOUR: “No Surrender” by Morgan Brice. $10.00 Amazon Gift Card Giveaway Included!


Book Title: No Surrender: Badlands Book 5 – An MM Psychic Detective
Romance Adventure

Author: Morgan

Publisher: Darkwind

Cover Artist: Natania

Release Date: April 22,

Genres: Urban fantasy MM paranormal romance, psychic

Tropes: Hurt/comfort, established relationship, evolving relationship,
learning to trust, grumpy-sunshine, cold case, ghosts helping/interfering, lots of magic,
wedding planning

Themes: Found family, loyalty, not keeping secrets, dealing with
unresolved issues, putting the past to rest

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 224

It is a standalone book in the
Badlands series and
does not end on a


Buy Links

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Kobo | Nook

Cold cases, hot leads, a
psychic psychopath, a copycat killer, cursed objects, the trial of the century–and wedding


Psychic medium Simon Kincaide and sexy homicide
detective Vic D’Amato met hunting a supernatural serial killer. Since then, Simon has
become a police consultant on cases involving the paranormal, and Vic has gotten over his
doubts about Simon’s abilities being real. Along the way, they fell in love and got engaged.
But it seems like the danger never ends.

Now, the first case Simon and Vic worked together comes
back to haunt them as the killer goes to court and all hell breaks loose. The killer has a crazy
fan setting curses on key players in the upcoming trial. Ghosts from an old cold case suggest
that someone got away with murder. And a supernatural creature attracted to fear and
death is using the Grand Strand as its feeding ground. Simon and Vic feel like they’re waging
a war on all fronts, but with the stakes so high, there can be No Surrender!

No Surrender is a fast-paced thrill ride MM paranormal
romance packed with supernatural suspense, haunted tourist attractions, monsters, visions,
hot sex, hurt/comfort, loyal friends, wedding planning, found family, ghosts galore, dark
magic, and an evolving, established romantic relationship with all the feels.

No Surrender is Book 5 in the Badlands series but can
be read as a standalone.


“Since when do serial killers get fan mail?” Homicide detective Vic D’Amato fumed. “How
fucked up is that?”
“They don’t just get fan letters; they get marriage proposals,” his

partner Ross Hamilton replied, shaking his head in disbelief. “I don’t get it, but that doesn’t
stop it from being true.”

Vic took a slug of coffee from his stained mug and barely kept from grimacing at the bitter
taste. Hospitals and police precincts always made the worst java. “I guess it’s like the people
who follow all the true-crime podcasts. We get paid to be hip-deep in the worst humanity
has to offer, but doing it for fun? People are weird.”

“You’ve been a cop for how long, and you’re just figuring that out now?” Ross teased.

Vic shrugged. “Every time I think that I’ve lowered my expectations too far, reality
says—‘Here, hold my beer.’”

“Yeah, well. I’m right there with you on this one.” Ross chuck‐ led. “Have you heard whether
you and Simon will have to testify at the trial?”

“Pretty certain. Of all the charges, Fischer shooting Simon is the most ironclad, with plenty
of witnesses,” Vic replied. “I’m not in any hurry to be part of the media circus, but I don’t see
a way to avoid it.”

“Lucky you—the Slitter trial is shaping up to be the biggest deal Myrtle Beach has had in a
long time.”

Vic grew up in a family of cops back in Pittsburgh. For generations, D’Amatos had been proud
to serve. His father, brothers, and other relatives were still on the force up north while his
sister was studying criminology. But an encounter with something supernat‐ ural Vic couldn’t
explain had made him unwelcome with the Pitts‐ burgh police. Vic had relocated, started
over in Myrtle Beach—and met the love of his life.

“I don’t want to put Simon through what happened the last time,” Vic confided.

“Not sure you’re going to have much choice about it.” Ross finished his coffee and set the
cup aside. “The closer we get to the trial date, the more reporters will be angling for a
scoop. I’m surprised there haven’t been some camped out in front of the store already.”

“I suspect Simon boosted the wardings against nuisance as well as malice. I tried talking him
into going down to Charleston to spend some time with his cousin, but he flat-out refused to
leave me here alone during the run-up to the trial.”

“Alone—with me and the captain and the rest of the depart‐ ment, plus a squad of lawyers
and witnesses?” Ross joked.

“And not one of you with any magic, in a trial where the killer used spells to help him get
away with murder,” Vic answered. “Simon doesn’t want to be in the spotlight—or the
crosshairs—but if it comes to that, I don’t doubt he and his friends will come up with ways to
protect us.”

Simon Kincaide, Vic’s fiancé, ran Grand Strand Ghost Tours. The boardwalk shop also offered
psychic readings and séances, showcasing Simon’s abilities as a psychic medium as well as
his knowledge of the spooky side of local history and his background as a former folklore
and mythology professor.

When an impasse in the hunt for the Strand Slitter brought the investigation to a standstill
more than a year ago, Vic tamped down on his deep skepticism about the paranormal and
asked for Simon’s help as a psychic. Their first encounters with each other were prickly, and
Vic accepted much of the blame for that since he had doubted Simon’s abilities and hated
needing his help.

Simon turned out to be the real deal, and his visions plus the ability to communicate with
the ghosts of the Slitter’s victims cracked the case—nearly costing Simon his life. In the year
since then, Simon became an official police consultant, working cases with Vic and Ross
when a supernatural connection seemed likely. Vic and Simon fell in love and now had a
wedding to plan.

About the Author

Morgan Brice is the romance
pen name of bestselling author Gail Z. Martin. Morgan writes urban fantasy male/male
paranormal romance, with plenty of action, adventure and supernatural thrills to go with the
happily ever after. Gail writes epic fantasy and urban fantasy, and together with co-author
hubby Larry N. Martin, steampunk and comedic horror, all of which have less romance, more
explosions. Characters from her Gail books make frequent appearances in secondary roles in
her Morgan books, and vice versa.

On the rare occasions Morgan
isn’t writing, she’s either reading, cooking, or spoiling two very pampered dogs.

Series include
Witchbane, Badlands, Treasure Trail, Kings of the Mountain and Fox Hollow. Watch for more
in these series, plus new series coming soon!

Author Links

Website |
Audible Profile | Amazon profile

Facebook Group | Facebook Page

Pinterest (for Morgan and Gail) | Twitter



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BLOG TOUR: “The Bandalore” by D K Girl. $10.00 Amazon Gift Card Giveaway Included!


Book Title: The Bandalore –
Pitch & Sickle Book One

(An MM Gaslamp Fantasy
Series) (The Diabolus Chronicles 1)

Author: D K Girl

Cover Artist: Deranged
Doctor Designs

Release Date: February 25,

Book 4 in the series is due
out April 13

Genre: Historical MM

Tropes: Slow, slow burn, opposites attract

Themes: Loneliness and friendship

Heat Rating: 2 flames

Length: 285

It is not a standalone book.
This is the first book in the Gaslamp Fantasy series, The Diabolus

It has an unresolved
storyline, rather than outright cliffhanger.


Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US | Amazon UK

Silas Mercer died once.
He’d rather not do it again.


1885 London, England

Silas Mercer died once. He’d rather not do it again.

On his return to the world of the living, Silas finds himself
in the hands of the mysterious Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn.

The Order has London society clamouring for their services,
with tarot readings, seances and exorcisms among their arcane specialities.

Now they seem intent on making Silas their newest

But they want far more from him than cheap parlour

When the Order partners him with the scandalous rake,
Tobias Astaroth, Silas’s new life is turned on its head in more ways than one.

Tobias is quick-tempered, dangerously charming, and far
more than the man he seems.

For Silas, surviving what the Order has planned for him will
be a challenge.

But finding a way to survive Tobias Astaroth could prove

A slow-burn MM Gaslamp Fantasy series.

Contains: Sexual content, violence and rather a lot of

This is the first book in the thrilling Gaslamp Fantasy series,
The Diabolus Chronicles


Mr Astaroth was clearly drunk. Reason perhaps why he

failed to be wearing any shoes. Silas noted the large brown stain upon the white of his linen
shirt with great consternation. The mark appeared not dissimilar to blood. His dark trousers
bore a tear at his right thigh, and the material at his knees was notably caked with

Gilmore cried out, more pain in the sound this time. ‘You’re
breaking my leg, you bastard.’

Silas looked to the bandalore, hoping there might be a
musical direction sung to him. But the wood was quiet. He should go to the man’s
assistance, Silas needed no magical trinket to tell him so. Man, or gnome, Gilmore was in
clear distress. But Silas hesitated.

‘Dear me, do you think I would truly do such a thing?’
Tobias’s words got away from him, slipping and sliding from his intoxicated tongue. A
shadow curved around his right eye, a rising bruise.

‘I know you would,’ Gilmore hollered. ‘You crave harm
more than your cock craves fucking.’

With no warning, Tobias landed a punch against Gilmore’s
belly. Half-hearted as it was, it at last spurred Silas from his reticence. He took a step

‘Now, see here-‘

‘Tobias! Set him down, now.’ Jane moved across the green,
clad in a nightgown of the most delicate white lace. Combined with her airy way of moving,
it was as though a ghost rushed towards them. ‘Now, Pitch. I will not ask you again.’

The man’s smile was a cruel slash across his damaged face.
‘As you wish. Catch him if you can.’

He lowered Gilmore and seemed certain to set him down,
albeit on his head, but at the very last moment, he drew back his arm and swung the frantic
Gilmore straight up into the air. Without an ounce of effort apparent, Tobias’s throw sent
the screaming, kicking man skyward. Soaring higher even than Silas’s cottage roof.

‘Help me!’

Gilmore seemed to hang in the air for a moment. His
scream curdled the blood.

‘Gilmore!’ Silas dashed in beneath the unfortunate gnome,
seeking to position himself so he might catch Gilmore when he fell. A dangerous notion,
considering the speed of descent, but the man would surely suffer grievous injury
otherwise. Silas glanced at the grinning man at his side. The viciousness that simmered
within Tobias Astaroth’s emerald eyes was breathtaking.

‘Stop!’ Jane’s command came with a rush of violent wind. A
great force swept past Silas, lifting the hairs on his head. The gust swept in beneath the
tumbling Gilmore, and at once his downward journey halted in a dead stop in midair. The
gnome sobbed, hanging limp against his invisible support, drifting slowly down, a leaf upon
a gentle breeze.

‘Why must you ruin my fun?’ Tobias folded his arms, staring
hard at Jane as she approached, a pout upon his full lips.

The sun drifted from behind a cloud, its rays setting his
eyes alight once more, and marking the pronounced angles of his face. Despite his notable
injuries, his odd beauty, accentuated by bowed lips and long dark lashes, was still evident.
Rather captivating, if Silas were honest, but he’d just now glimpsed a ferocity beneath the
delicate exterior which lent it a certain ugliness.

About the Author

Danielle K Girl is an Aussie who lives in stunning Tasmania
with her three furkids, cats Luffy, Sweetie and Ren.

Her idea of heaven is a farm full of rescue animals, with a
vegie garden that sprouts peanut M&M’s and chocolate wheaten biscuits.

When she’s not keyboard-deep in mysterious, beguiling
worlds, she is binge watching K-Dramas, listening to K-Pop or hiking through the beautiful
Tasmanian wilderness.

Author Links

Blog/Website |
Facebook | Instagram



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BLOG TOUR: “Ryld’s Shadows” by Bellora Quinn & Angel Martinez. Rafflecopter Giveaway Included!


Book Title: Ryld’s Shadows: AURA 4

Author: Angel Martinez and
Bellora Quinn

Publisher: Pride

Release Date: March 8,

Genres: Urban Fantasy M/M Romance

Tropes: Fish out of water, friends to lovers, unlikely pair

Themes: Acceptance, growth, people aren’t always what they

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length: 74 000 words/ 276

It is not a standalone story. It
is book four in the AURA series.


Buy Links

Pride Publishing | Amazon US | Amazon UK

Kobo | Apple Books | B&N

Ryld must learn to control
his dangerous shadows before they kill someone he cares about or someone unscrupulous

learns how to control him.


AURA’s offices have been quiet since the mage tower
incident—as quiet as they can be for an agency dedicated to policing holes in reality—and
the department heads have been free to turn their attention back to mundane matters. The
return to quiet bureaucracy gives AURA’s Director of Research, Kai Hiltas, the time to turn
his energy to a new issue—a young drow with unusual and dangerous powers named

Though his shadows always lurk at the edges of his vision,
Ryld does his best to live peacefully and not let them hurt anyone. He has his work, his
apartment and a succession of minders assigned by AURA who are, ostensibly, there to keep
him safe in his new world and to prevent him from causing any scenes with his shadows.
Most of the time, the arrangement works. But one disastrous incident causes Ryld’s minder
to leave him unattended and lost—the precise thing he was hired to prevent.

To replace the faithless minder, Kai suggests Hank, a
half-goblin accountant recently in the middle of a string of terrible luck, while Kai works out
how best to get Ryld the magical training he so desperately needs. For his part, Hank truly
likes Ryld and insists he would be happier working as Ryld’s companion rather than as a
controlling minder.

As Hank and Ryld slowly come to terms with sharing
space—and eventually more—Kai’s search for a teacher for Ryld takes them out west on the
invitation of the Elvenhome’s aelfe queen and right into the lap of inter-elven feuds, ancient
prejudice, conspiracies and trafficking rings. What should have been a pleasant visit soon
turns into more than even forever-scheming Kai can handle.


“Another one, Brady. I don’t have all night.”

The bartender sighed when Hank thumped his fist on the
That crack was already there. I know it

“One terabin
per customer. You know the rules.”

“I’m not even close to drunk enough.”

Shaking his head, the bartender put a glass of water in
front of Hank. The water swayed. Maybe the bar swayed. A single
terabin would’ve
taken down a human and sent them to the ER. A second one would even put a troll on the
floor. Hank was pretty sure he could manage another.

Brady put his hands on the bar and leaned in. “What’s
happened, Hank? This isn’t like you.”

Hank tried to answer, his short tusks getting in the way of
his words. That hadn’t happened since he was a teenager.

“What was that?”

“They fired me today. Fired me.” Hank gave up trying to look
menacing and put his head in his hands.

“Did you screw something up? Lose a decimal place or
something?” What Brady knew about accounting probably wouldn’t have filled half a

“No.” Hank gulped a breath. “I did my job. I worked hard.
But the new manager… She said I wasn’t commensurate with the company image.”

“Wait. Just ’cause of how you look? You could file a

“Sure. Right. The pretty sylphs in the non-human rights
office are gonna get right on that. Far as they’re concerned, the only place I should be is
locked up.”

The bartender winced in an uncomfortable way and patted
Hank’s arm awkwardly. “Not like you’re riding a varg down the street swinging a battle-axe.
You’re, you know, civilized. Still can’t serve you another one.”

A bitter smile curled Hank’s mouth as he took the water
and chugged half of it down. “Thanks, Brady. I feel so much better now. I’ll… I guess I’ll find
something. Somewhere.”

Out on the sidewalk, Hank breathed in the relatively fresh
air. Poisoned with exhaust fumes and all the reek of too many humans in too small a
space—still it was cooler and not the close, claustrophobic smell of the bar. He probably
shouldn’t have let Brady’s racist comments go, but tonight he was too damn tired to deal
with it, and Brady needed to count his lucky pebbles that Hank wasn’t some thin-skinned
goblin kid with a chip bigger than his head.

You’re okay, Hank. You’re one of the few good goblins. Not like those other filthy barbarians.
Pat the half-gobbo on the head and

He wanted chilies, huge bags of them, wanted to drown in
the capsaicin high they’d bring. But he had enough sense, even this drunk, to know he’d
overdo it in his current state of mind and probably end up in the ER from a ghost pepper OD

Once was enough.

No. Go home. Get some sleep. Figure it out in the

He’d manage. He always did.

It was just that this time he thought he had managed. Found
a place for himself. Reached the spot where things could be routine, and he could be
normal. Just another worker bee in the crowd.

The screech of tires on pavement yanked him out of his
reverie and just about made him jump out of his skin. His reactions were muddled and slow,
but the shot of adrenaline racing through him as he stared at the truck only inches away was
almost enough to knock him sober.

The driver’s door opened, and a tall elf got out. His face
was full of haughty arrogance and disdain, as was usual for aelfe, but his words were even
and neutral as he asked, “Are you all right?”

Before Hank could answer the passenger door opened, and
another elf got out, this one a drow. “You are walking where vehicles are supposed to be

“Get back in the truck, Ryld,” the first elf said

“But, he’s walking where vehicles are driven. That’s against
the rules.”

“Get. In. The. Truck. Ryld.”



The drow cut his eyes away. He made some odd gestures
but sat back down and closed his door. Even from behind the windshield Hank could pick

out how unnaturally blue his eyes were. He’d only ever seen drow with red eyes or

“Are you all right?” the blond elf asked again.

Hank pulled in a slow breath, then two more. The rising
nausea settled, and he leaned a hand against the lamppost on the corner. “Fine. I’m fine.
You stopped in time.”

The elf stared at him, maybe thinking Hank owed him a
thank you for not ploughing over him. Finally, he gave a sharp nod. “Okay. Good.”

That was it. He climbed back into the truck, shut the door,
said something sharp to the drow and drove off.

Weird. That was…weird. Though maybe the terabin had made the whole interaction
so strange. Maybe there hadn’t been any blue-eyed drow insisting on road rules. Hank
shook himself, hurried across the street and reached his apartment building without any
further bizarre incidents.

About the Authors

Angel Martinez

The unlikely black sheep of
an ivory tower intellectual family, Angel Martinez has managed to make her way through life
reasonably unscathed. Despite a wildly misspent youth, she snagged a degree in English Lit,
married once and did it right the first time, (same husband for almost twenty-four years)
gave birth to one amazing son, (now in college) and realized at some point that she could
get paid for writing.

Published since 2006, Angel’s
cynical heart cloaks a desperate romantic. You’ll find drama and humor given equal weight
in her writing and don’t expect sad endings. Life is sad enough.

She currently lives in
Delaware in a drinking town with a college problem and writes Science Fiction and Fantasy
centered around gay heroes.

Author Links

Blog/Website | Facebook | Facebook Group

Twitter |

Newsletter Sign-up

Bellora Quinn

Originally hailing from Detroit
Michigan, Bellora now resides on the sunny Gulf Coast of Florida where a herd of
Dachshunds keeps her entertained. She got her start in writing at the dawn of the internet
when she discovered PbEMs (Play by email) and found a passion for collaborative writing
and steamy hot erotica. Soap Opera like blogs soon followed and eventually full

The majority of her stories
are in the M/M genre with urban fantasy or paranormal settings and many with a strong
BDSM flavour.

Author Links

Facebook | Twitter


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BLOG TOUR: “Hot Stepdad Summer” by Iris Faire. $10.00 Amazon Gift Card Giveaway Included!


Book Title: Hot Stepdad Summer

Author: Iris Faire

Cover Artist: Iris

Release Date: January 30,

Genre: Contemporary MM
Romance LGBTQ Romance, Romantic Suspense

Tropes: Taboo -stepdad,forbidden love, bisexual and gay awakenings,
mafia suspense

Themes: Coming out,
acceptance, found family, first loves

Length: 33 000 words/ 122

Heat Rating: 4.5 flames
(There are a few steamy scenes that get spicy and intimate and real for our main couple –
but nothing involving BDSM. Maybe a tiny bit of hands around the throat, that’s


Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US | Amazon UK

Only one man could save
me. What I found in him was unexpected.


Wrongs righted. Love fated. Passionate desires unleashed.

I didn’t need a protector. And I wanted more than a hot

alpha possessing me.

I desired love. What I found in him was unexpected. If only
the world around us would stop judging, we would have a chance to build a life

When the past caught up to me and a friend, dark forces
surrounded us.

Only one man could save me.

It turned out his protection, his possession, and his love all
claimed me, fulfilling every dream possible.

Iris Faire weaves a tale of past wrongs righted, of love fated, and passionate desires
explored. The quick read romp ends in a happy ever after. It can be read as a stand alone,
but will have you wishing for more in the interconnected Stepdad Summer Series.


“Who were those guys?” His fists balled up on my stomach,
and I heard the crack of his jawline tightening with teeth gnashing. These signs of his
possession turned my heart to jelly.

“Relax there, Mr. Protective. They were punk ass college
guys on spring break. Never saw them again. And I haven’t been with anyone since . . . Until
last night. With you.”

“Me? So you were my first in forever, and I was as well for
you?” He squeezed me tighter.

“Hm-hmm. After your birthday, I intended to quit for sure.
But then you came to see me. So I danced for you. And then I kept going, wondering if you
might come back. And you did. Every Tuesday and Thursday, when Mom had her meetings
like clockwork. Somehow, you made me feel safe. And . . . I enjoyed dancing for you. I liked
your eyes following my every move.”

“Don’t go back. I don’t want you there. I can’t stand the
thought of other men watching you, touching your G-string or going anywhere near your

I tightened our hold once again, wiggling my bottom
against his half hard morning wood. “Hm. So you’re the jealous type. I like it.”

“Yeah, maybe I am. Besides, I should have stopped you
when I first saw you. If I had given any thought to how dangerous it might be for you there .

. . maybe Nico wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“Fucking Nico,” I said with upmost affection for my friend.
“It probably didn’t matter. His drug use would have still gotten out of hand, maybe slower is

“Still, don’t go back. Quit today.”

“And work where? I can’t stay at moms, and can’t stay at
Dominic’s. It’s nice of you to offer here, but I need a job to afford my own place.” I already
had a printout of some jobs to check on for the week. Coffee barista, nighttime janitor . . .
nothing really appealing, but my options narrowed without a degree or career trajectory. I’d
go to hell before admitting Mom was right about college.

“Stay with me. I’ll take care of us until you find something

“Yeah?” I twisted, facing him, and cupped his cheek. I hung
on every hope for what this meant between us.


I brushed his lips, taking full advantage of this euphoric
morning feeling. This thing right now between us, undefined, yet perfect. Undeterred by an
uncertain future, simply luxuriating in each other’s arms before time or whatever life threw
at us took it away.

He worked down, brushing his lips across my neck and
Adam’s apple.

“Mm. If I stay with you, does it mean I get more of your lips
all over me?”

“Whatever you want, I’m happy to provide,” he said,
pushing me onto my back. Brushing his whiskers down my torso followed by his soft lips and
tongue, every move of his grew like little reassurances of our path ahead, freely exploring
whatever this was between us.

About the Author

Iris writes from the comfort
of her kitchen, while sipping vanilla lattes on a good day—even in summer. Writing MM
Romance is a nice distraction from her many other commitments, like needle-working,
homemaking, and mom taxi service. While it’s terrible fun to invest time in her book

characters, she’s not expecting to quit her day job anytime soon.

Visit her website
to keep up to date on her latest work in

On a more serious note: Iris
has a teen who is trans. And she loves them with her whole heart and soul.

Author Links

Blog/Website | Twitter

Newsletter Sign-up | BookBub


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BLOG TOUR: “Grieving Royal” by Elouise East. $10.00 Amazon Gift Card Giveaway Included!


Book Title: Grieving Royal (Club Royal, Book 3)

Author: Elouise

Cover Artist: Design By Tina

Release Date: February 3,

Genre: Contemporary M/M

Tropes: MMM, royal BDSM
club, hurt/comfort


Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 108 000

The story does not end on a


Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link | Amazon US | Amazon

Losing himself to the
shadows is not possible, but who can help him learn to live again?


Despite being third in line to the throne, George doesn’t
believe he will ever be king, and he is content with that knowledge. He prefers to live his life
in the shadow of his brothers because he can hide his extra-curricular activities there. When

his life is torn apart by grief, he loses himself in those shadows until he focuses on what
matters to him. Love.

More media attention is the last thing Timothy wants. He
left his hometown to get away from it, but his new position makes that almost impossible.
Balancing the requirements of his teaching role, the needs of his new patient, and the
feelings that should never have grown, he struggles to see the right course of action until
the choice is taken away from him.

Stepping back inside the place where Eddie had been
abused by the one person who should’ve taken care of him has been harder than he
expected. Finding someone who is patient enough to help him through his anxieties about a
BDSM relationship is easier. Unfortunately, royal duties threaten to pull them apart before
they’ve even started.

As the three lives intertwine in the unlikeliest of situations,
who will throw themselves into the deep end, and who will back away, scared of the

This is an MMM book containing BDSM scenes and
D/s dynamics in all forms. It also has lots of loving, friendships, family drama and, of course,
a triple HEA.



He searched the room for the voice but couldn’t see
anyone until Master George stepped through the parted crowd.

Eddie lowered his head. “Master George.” Eddie’s heart
raced, and he couldn’t contain his smile.

“Clarice didn’t hear from you. Does that mean you’ve
decided not to go ahead with what we talked about?”

Was he supposed to have called her? “Oh, um, I still want
to go ahead with it. I forgot to call her and tell her. I was excited about coming tonight and
didn’t think about calling ahead.”

“Shh. Eddie, breathe. It’s fine.” Master George slipped an
arm around Eddie’s shoulders. “I wanted to go through a contract with you, that’s all. Can
we do that now?”

Eddie didn’t want to read a contract. He wanted Master
George. “Can we do it later?” he asked, eyes still lowered.

Master George was quiet, then a finger curved under his
chin, lifting his head. When he met the vibrant blue eyes, he relaxed.

“Better. Yes, we can do it later, but we must do it if you
want to go ahead.”

“I do, Sir. Definitely.”

Master George smiled. “What would you like to do

Eddie licked his lips. “I’m not really sure.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Implicitly,” Eddie said in a firm voice.

Master George nodded once. “Come on.”

Eddie went with Master George to one of the private
rooms but hesitated at the threshold, even though Master George still had his arm around

“What’s wrong?” Master George stepped in front of him
and cupped his jaw, bringing their gazes together. “Talk to me.”

“This is the room…Master Douglas found me in.” Eddie’s
heart pounded. He knew he’d have to face the room eventually because it was ridiculous to
think a space could have this much of a hold over him.

“Let’s try another room.”

“No! Sir. No.” He stared into Master George’s eyes. “Will
you help me?”

“With anything and everything I can. What do you

“I want to do it here. I need something good to wash away
the bad memories of this room.”

“Are you sure, Eddie? There is no weakness in not being

“I’m sure.” He nodded to emphasise his answer.

Master George stared at him for a long minute, then
nodded in return. He slid his hands into Eddie’s and gripped them hard. “I’m here.” He
stepped backwards, tugging Eddie into the room with him.

Every step had Eddie’s palms sweating and his heart
jumping, but when they finally stopped in the centre of the room, Eddie sighed. He glanced
around, never letting go of Master George’s hands.

About the Author

I am Elouise East but feel free
to call me Elli. I write sweet and steamy connections in gay romance. I also touch on taboo
stories under the name Elouise R East.

Books that tell the stories
where friendship and family are the focal point – be it blood family or chosen – is very
important to me. That’s why I include a variety of personalities, talents, ages, situations and
abilities as I believe a story or a character needs. I want my characters to be real, to be
relatable, to be free to have whatever views they tell me they have. And trust me, most of
the time, I do not have
any say in the matter!

My characters come to life on
the page for me as well as my readers. Their stories unfold in front of me, and I have very
little input into how they want to be shown. Just like real life, the lives of my characters
change with every choice, every interaction and every conversation. And I wouldn’t have it
any other way.

I write books that are
emotionally realistic, even if liberties are taken with other aspects of my stories. I don’t
know any other way to write. It comes from deep inside.

Who am I? A single parent to
two children who make life worth living. An avid reader who still devours every book she can
get her hands on. A student of learning about any subject that takes her fancy. An author of
books she would read herself. And a romantic at heart who loves anything cheesy.

Who’s in?

Author Links

Blog/Website |
Facebook | Twitter

Instagram | Newsletter Sign-up

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