Book Title: The Summoner’s Path (D’Vaire, Book 10)
Author: Jessamyn Kingley
Cover Artist: LJ Anderson, Mayhem Cover Creations
Genre/s: M/M Urban Fantasy Romance
Heat Rating: 3 flames
Release Date: January 17, 2019
Tagline Some paths we choose. Others are chosen for us. Blurb
Grand Summoner Dre’Kariston D’Vaire understands firsthand the brutal reality of war. Barely surviving a gruesome battle, he is one of the few remaining warlocks. After recovering from his wounds, he returns to the castle of his birth only to find his entire race annihilated. For centuries he disguises his power and appearance, refusing to be another victim. When he reunites with his twin, his life changes from barren to beautiful. For years he follows his brother’s example of scrying for his mate, but it is not until they join their power that Fate answers, leading him to Court Ethelin.
Prince Somerly Ethelindraconis is stunned as he races to an appointment and runs into a crowned sorcerer standing on his father’s land. His only parent hates magickind and keeps them far from home, but Somerly cannot deny the attractive man his name and number. King Ethelin has his son’s life planned out for him, and Somerly is willing to sacrifice his freedom to help his court—until he falls for Dre’Kariston. He is soon caught between the promises he’s made and what his heart desires. There’s no way to please everyone, and Somerly finds himself teetering on a precipice that forces him to decide where his future lies.
With infinite paths twisting ahead, Dre’Kariston and Somerly must follow the truth in their hearts to make the right choices if they wish to forge an enduring love. Fate brought them together, but will they run out of chances before it’s too late to save their matebond?
About the Author
Jessamyn Kingley lives in Nevada where she begs the men in her head to tell her their amazing stories which she dutifully writes it all down in what has become a small mountain of notebooks. She falls in love with each couple and swears whatever book she wrote last is her absolute favorite.
Jessamyn is married and working toward remembering to start the dishwasher without being distracted by the scent of the magical detergent. For personal enjoyment, she aids in cat rescue while slashing and gashing her way through mobs in various MMORPGs. Caffeine is her very best friend and is only cast aside briefly for the sin better known as BBQ potato chips.
Visit her website at: www.jessamynkingley.com
Follow her on Facebook at: www.facebook.com/jessamynkingley. She loves to engage with readers there.
A Dance For Two is a stepbrother romance with ‘plenty of angst, love, attraction, lust and finally a HEA ending.’
BlurbAdam and Luc used to be close. At least they were before Luc distanced himself from Adam at fourteen, then eventually left home. Adam never got over the sting of betrayal, or the loss of his one-time best friend.When Luc is invited back home to help get his parents’ failing dance school back on track, Adam isn’t sure he can cope with having his stepbrother back in his life. Especially when he discovers Luc’s decade old secret. Luc left home because he was sure no one would understand that he had fallen in love with his stepbrother.Convinced that the years of distance he has put between them will have erased his desire, Luc doesn’t hesitate to return home to help the business that means everything to his parents. Confronted by Adam once more, Luc’s past feelings re-awaken. But will revealing his true feelings to Adam heal the rift between them, or drive them even further apart?***This novel contains explicit language and sex scenes between step-brothers***
Listen to a sample on any of the above links or here on Soundcloud
About the Author
Colette’s personal love story began at university, where she met her future husband. An evening of flirting, in the shadow of Lancaster castle, eventually led to a fairytale wedding. She’s enjoying her own ‘happy ever after’ in the north of England with her husband, two beautiful children and her writing.
TaglineSometimes all it takes is a glanceBlurbSometimes all it takes is a glanceOne brief moment in time, seemingly insignificant but ultimately life changingThat glimpse through the storm, that shadow, that silhouette, of something you can’t help but feel is something… more, something bigger than just you.For Deputy US Marshal Vaughn Kepler – a man beaten down by both time and his own demons – it’s a smirk in the mirror, eyes that dance and a mouth that both infuriates and turns him the f*&k on. A mouth belonging to one Caysun Rourke.The problem? Caysun is supposed to be his witness, the person who will lead Vaughn to his missing brother.He’s not supposed to be the man that Vaughn desperately wants warming his bed. But he is. What the hell is Vaughn supposed to do with that?~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~For Sylas Thorne, that one glance was in the rearview mirror of his car. When he caught sight of the sexiest man he’d ever seen.A man who gave ‘objects in the mirror are larger than they appear’ an entirely new meaning.But Sylas didn’t do… people.His severe anxiety had kept him hidden away from the world for as long as he could remember.He was the man, the voice, behind the computer screen. Anonymous. Just the way he liked it. Or he did, anyways.How could he ever hope to gain the love of anyone, let alone the handsome man staring at him with the gorgeous light green eyes?Yet with just a glance, this man made Sylas want to be a man worthy of one Grainger Peele.He wanted to face his fears and say ‘eff you’ to them.But it wasn’t like he could snap his fingers and make his crippling anxiety disappear. If he could, he would’ve done that years ago.Now the only question that remained was: Could a man like Grainger ever love such mess like him?When conditions are fierce, when you can barely see your hand in front of your face – is that one glimpse, that fleeting glance, enough to carry you through the storm to the end?This is the 10th installment in the world of the Black Ops Heroes – strong yet vulnerable men who are stubborn and loyal, caring and fierce, and who, when they love, they love with their whole damn hearts.While this book is a standalone, it is recommended that you read the other books in the series to meet and fall in love with all of the men in this amazing world.
ExcerptSylas’s fingers shook as he brought his hands up to grip the top of his steering wheel. He was trying to stop himself from restarting his car, backing out of the parking space and going home.Home was safe.Home was dark.Home was… lonely.That’s why he was here, right?He’d been seeing Cece for eight months now. At first, she’d come to his place, then they started doing Skype sessions as she tried to convince him to venture to her office for their chats, as she called them.Today was the first time in almost a year that he’d actually left the house.Panic had his forehead sweating, his pulse pounding. His head started to shake side to side, “Nope. Can’t do it,” he mumbled.He shifted in his seat to turn the key in the ignition when something in his rearview mirror caught his eye. Something big, like fucking huge. He had no clue what the face looked like that was attached to the body walking towards his car but, at the moment he really didn’t care.“Damn,” he mumbled as he watched that deep blue pinstripe suit sauntering closer. The suit jacket was unbuttoned, giving Sylas teasing glimpses of the firm torso barely hidden beneath the white button-up shirt. The thighs bulged with every step the man took. Those thick legs were spread slightly and as Sylas’ eyes dropped a bit, he could see why.“Holy fuck,” he whispered as he saw the outline of a thick, long cock bouncing from side to side on the man’s left thigh, like the arm of a metronome. No wonder the guy had to spread his legs. And he was commando. Damn. If his cock was that big it probably meant he had some big, ripe juicy balls that he was forced to make room for too.Suddenly being out in public didn’t seem so bad.The man stopped next to Sylas’ car, with that bulge perfectly framed in Sylas’ mirror.As Sylas touched the button to lower his window, his brain to mouth filter disappeared. “I know it says objects in mirror are larger than they appear but damn, dude,” he said.The man chuckled, a deep, sexy sound that flowed over Sylas like liquid chocolate. “You here to see Dr. Peele?”“I think so?” he mumbled, his nerves re-appearing despite the hunk of man standing next to him.The man pulled a phone out of his pocket and brought it to his ear, “Hey, Brenda. Are there any patients in the waiting room? No? Good. Tell Cece her next appointment will be up shortly.”The man returned his phone to his pocket.“The only thing standing between you and her is that door and a receptionist,” the man said.Sylas stared at the office door. Could he do this?“I promise things will feel better, Quattro.”Sylas frowned, “Quattro?”“Don’t know your name so I went with the car you’re in.”Sylas smirked as he glanced into his rearview mirror again to see the sleek, black, powerful car parked behind him that blue suit had emerged from. “Well, to be honest, there are three things standing in my way.”“Three?”“Yep. That door, a receptionist,” he said as he pointed his finger over his steering wheel, “And your ginormous package, Mustang.”The guy snorted a laugh that Sylas found completely adorable…and hot as fuck. Mustang took a step back so Sylas could open his door – which he did, surprising even himself.He stood to his feet turned around and dragged his eyes slowly up blue suit guy’s body until, yep, that was a gasp, because staring back at him with a grin on his face, with perfect white teeth, and dark, sexy stubble covering his chin and perfect jaw, high cheekbones with lickable dimples, strong eyebrows and light green eyes that were full of mischief and… understanding – was easily the most beautiful man that Sylas Thorne had ever seen. About the Author I did not choose to write… writing chose meI was born and raised in the Bay Area of Northern California but have made my home in the Pacific Northwest for the last two decades. My husband & I live on a small farm surrounded by chickens, goats, rabbits, a turkey, 5 dogs and a cat, in the shadow of stunning Mt Rainier.With my grown children and grandchildren nearby, my life is always busy, happy and full of laughter.I am an active Blogger, having created Love Unchained Book Reviews out of my love for all things reading – mostly MM books.Owner of Dare Press – Offering quality, affordable services for indie authors, including:Editing, Publishing, Book Cover DesignNY Literary Magazine Best Story Award 2017 NomineeWhen I’m not on the phone with my best friend (which is at least once every day) – I am an avid, addicted reader. It is my passion, my escape, my joyAnd I am most definitely a writer. The characters in my head are constantly demanding that their story be told.But above all that – I am a human being. My passion for people is unparalleled, my firm belief in Love is Love unwavering, my hope that all can be accepted, undying. I do not write because I want to, I do it because I have to. I write because these voices, these beautiful men, have chosen me to tell their stories – and how damn lucky am I for that?As an author, I write under both my name and my pen name (Kendel Duncan), with total transparency and honesty.Dara Nelson is the author of:Author of the wildly popular ‘Healing Hearts’ series (Love in the Aftermath, Love After Chaos, Love Worth Fighting For – and more to come soon)“5 stars 5 stars Amazing!!”“Highly recommended”“This is not your average romance story. It is so much more. A book that touched my heart.”“OMG!!! This was probably one of the best books I’ve ever read.”“This is the first time I’ve read anything from Dara Nelson, but it won’t be the last. I need more of her writing!”Under the pen name Kendel Duncan: Author of the popular & critically acclaimed ‘Black Ops Heroes’ series and the new top-selling ‘Doyle Global Securities’ series“I can’t recommend Kendel Duncan or Black Ops Heroes ENOUGH!!!! OMG, everyone who likes strong vulnerable men will love these stories!!!”“I HIGHLY RECOMMEND THIS BOOK AND THIS AMAZING SERIES!!!!!”“I love how you keep the story going and keep all the characters interesting. Can’t wait for the next book!”“The emotions are so raw and just I don’t have the right words to express how amazing the books are. You have to read them to understand. I can’t wait for the next installment!!”
BlurbGabriel is staggered, upon overhearing two old dears declare that only 21 shopping days remain ’til Christmas. He hadn’t even noticed that December had dawned, far too busy being grim ‘n’ grumpy to be bothered. This, after losing his job—again—leaving him too fed-up of enforced thriftiness to differentiate days that did not. Let alone recall the date on the calen— A thought that sends Gabriel scuttling off the bus, in a belated bid to secure his favourite part of the festive season…an advent calendar. If they have any left. Upon clattering into the nearest shop, he finds himself coshed by the most splendid sight he e’er did see. A Christmas Feast for the eyeballs so sublime, it seemed—for a hectic heartbeat—that they’d all come at once. As the latter was a feat so improbable in said company, they definitely had not.Dylan is much dismayed by the ramshackle litter of limbs and belongings that trips into the off-license, halfway through his shift. It being way too early for the drunk and determinedly irritating to come staggering in. In the wake of arriving too late to audition for a role he’d set his heart on, Dylan is no mood to deal with a human hatstand—doe-eyed and demented—intent upon purchasing a bloody advent calendar. On the third of December. For himself. Strewth. Could fate have possibly dumped a less welcome portent of festivities doomed to disaster on the doorstep? ExcerptDylan’s trip down misery lane was rudely interrupted by the teeth-gritting jangle of the bell that heralded the entrance of each customer. Reason enough to want to bolt the bloody door to ensure that no one could set the damn thing off.“Oh, bugger…”Christ, no. It was way too early for the pissed-up and perennially irritating to start staggering in. Dylan glared at the ramshackle onslaught of limbs and belongings that clattered into the shop. This, with a godawful racket reminiscent of a one-man band, created by what appeared to be: one person, a single guitar, and some plastic bags. The latter were either full of saucepan lids, tambourines and stray cats…or, the customer could cause chaos in a broom cupboard. On his own. Neither of which boded well for the duration. He would no doubt browse for fifteen minutes, knock Dylan’s painstaking display of colour coordinated decorations off the shelf—then insist on arguing about fuck-all—before finally purchasing a cheap lighter, some Rizzla papers and a Snickers bar. Dylan had, clearly, been working in an off-license far too long. This had been true about an hour into his first shift, despite the fifteen percent staff reduction that had clinched the deal in the first place. Dylan watched, incredulous, as the litter of limbs and baggage rearranged itself into something that resembled a human figure. Albeit, a far too…extravagant one. Then, he lifted his head. How simple that sounded. The customer’s face had formerly been obscured by the brim of his hat; a battered black trilby, barely a shade darker than eyes as bottomless as they were huge. Framed by excessive eyelashes and skin so pale, he could have played Pierrot, sans make-up. A fact not helped by lips so wind-chapped, they looked kiss-bitten. Or, he’d earned enough to buy more than a packet of bloody Rizzla and a Snickers in the very recent past. If he hadn’t already blown it on his next fix. Get a grip. Who the hell would cart a guitar around with them, while out pulling punters? Punters, f’fucksakes?“Hiya.” His little-boy-lost features lit up in a smile as startling as his voice; coming from a body comprised of far too many corners. Dylan had expected clipped cockney tones or a harsh estuary drawl. The ‘hiya’ had scarce classified as a word, it had been but a wisp of melody. This particular nugget of nonsense was followed by the belated awareness that Dylan was standing like a lemon, dumbstruck. Ensnared in the dark spotlight of a gaze akin to a steel-jaw trap…
About the Author
After moving to London at eighteen and flitting about for far too long, Zakarrie settled, as blissy as can be, by the sea. ’Twas here that her castaway dreams re-surfaced and she began to write; stories that are, in truth, better at being her than she’s ever been. Her one hope now is that someone, somewhere, will enjoy the misadventures of her miscreants as much as she adores writing them.
BlurbWorking at Rogue Ink is a dream job for Cruella, especially being around the hunky co-owner, Ray. Even though the money isn’t great, the eye candy and Ray’s caring heart make it all worthwhile. When Cruella risks rejection by inviting Ray to be their partner for a shibari class at Kiss of Leather, they’re thrilled when Ray accepts.Cruella’s invitation both excites and terrifies Ray. He wants Cruella, but does he also want to become more kink aware? Still, he could kick himself for not making a move yet on the sweet and beautiful Cruella, so maybe this is his chance. His protective instincts have gotten him into serious trouble before, so he’ll be sure not to make the same mistake with Cruella. They’ve made it clear they can take care of themself.Cruella fears that Ray won’t accept their genderqueer identity and Ray aches to be the strong man Cruella needs. However, when Cruella’s dark past intrudes on their blissful present—Ray’s definition of strength might turn out to be harsher than Cruella is willing to accept.
ExcerptI don’t know why I torture myself like this. Cruella slid each delectable garment along the new arrivals rail in the Rags & Rhinestones vintage clothing store, almost drooling over the spectacular collection of goodies that Heath had picked up at an estate sale over the weekend. Their rather limited clothing allowance of the past couple months had gone to purchase rope for the shibari class. They sighed. It would be so worth it if Ray would let them tie him up in bed. It certainly seemed to turn him on the other night when I suggested it.If they were being honest, the idea had them rather hot too. When they had originally signed up for the class, the eroticism of the art hadn’t been the strongest attraction to learning shibari. At least not in terms of tying up a partner for sex. Their thought process had been more along the lines of the visual appeal, not necessarily using it as a prelude to, or as part of, making love.They stepped behind a round rack to conceal their arousal as their mind wandered to Saturday morning when Ray had kneeled before them in the shower and sucked them to completion. While they’d never viewed themselves as someone who wanted to dominate a partner, they’d begun to consider that the desire to do so had been there all along but hadn’t been allowed to flourish.That sure as hell was the case with Tucker.Ray on his knees, Ray tied up and at their mercy, Ray beneath them as they fucked him into the mattress—all those scenarios had been playing on a loop in their head ever since they’d last seen him. They knew one thing for sure, when they got together with Ray that night to finally work on their class project, they were going to get a little rope action in bed if nothing else.“Hey, Cruella. See anything you like?”Cruella glanced up at the shop owner, Heath. “Hi, hon. Trust me, I see plenty I like.” Cruella let out another mournful sigh. “But I’m broke this month.”Heath tsked, shaking his head. “I keep telling you, come work for me. You have a better sense of style than anyone who’s ever worked here, and you’d get an employee discount.”Cruella barked out a laugh. “And never come home with a paycheck. No, they pay me well at Rogue, at least a couple more bucks an hour then I would get for that type of job. Especially since I’m not a manager or anything.”“I’ll match what they’re giving you right now, with an eye toward making you a manager here eventually.”Cruella blinked repeatedly as they stared at the tall, blond-haired cutie they’d come to know over the past few years of being a regular at the shop. Heath had teased them more than once about coming to work for him, but had never made such a serious offer. Cruella hadn’t been kidding, though, about never coming home with a paycheck. The killer clothes, shoes and handbags that regularly filled the shop to the brim would suck the cash right out of their pocket. Their buyer resistance was next to non-existent. “You can’t be serious, hon. Why would you do that? And why do you need a manager?”Heath draped an elbow over the rail and leaned against the rack. “So fucking serious, doll, you have no idea. Look, to begin with, most of the staff who come through here are either clueless and couldn’t give two shits about fashion or chose this job by wandering down the street until they spotted it and thought, ‘gee, this looks like a great place to steal from.’ I can’t even with these losers anymore.” Heath glanced around the shop, the few other customers in the large, rectangular space seemingly lost in their own perusing. He leaned in closer. “I love this shop. I’m flippin’ proud of what I built up over the past five years. But damn, honey. I haven’t had a social life since I turned twenty-two.” Heath huffed. “And I was only out and proud for two years before that, so this girl hasn’t had nearly as much fun as she should’ve by now.”Cruella fingered the nineteen-twenties mauve velvet coat that they could totally picture themselves in and considered Heath’s words. “Wow, I guess I never thought about how much work it must take to run this place on your own. Although, the owners of Rogue seem to work nonstop. But at least there’s three of them to handle the responsibility.”Heath furrowed his brow. “Is that little sweetheart who was kidnapped still doing okay?”After the dust had settled from the horrible events surrounding Liam’s kidnapping, Cruella had been able to work out that Heath’s shop was where Neal had called the police from.“He’s doing fine. I think in his case having the responsibility of a new business has done wonders at keeping him distracted and dwelling on what happened.” Cruella chuckled. “Of course, his fiancé keeps him more than distracted enough anyway.”Heath smiled. “That’s good to hear.” Heath glanced over his shoulder as someone approached the register. “Listen, you think about what I said.” He squeezed Cruella’s arm. “I meant every word.”Cruella let their finger run down the beaded edging of the coat until they found the price tag. They sucked in a sharp breath as they absorbed the amount of the vintage item. Two hundred and twenty-five dollars. They whimpered. I wonder how much of a discount?
About the Author
Author Morticia Knight spends most of her nights writing about men loving men forever after. If there happens to be some friendly bondage or floggings involved, she doesn’t begrudge her characters whatever their filthy little hearts desire. Even though she’s been crafting her naughty tales for more years than she’d like to share—her adventures as a published author began in 2011. Since then, she’s been fortunate enough to have several books on bestseller lists along with titles receiving recognition in the Rainbow Book Awards, Divine Magazine and Love Romance Café.Once upon a time she was the lead singer in an indie rock band that toured the West Coast and charted on U.S. college radio. She currently resides on the North Oregon coast and when she’s not fantasizing about hot men, she takes walks along the ocean and annoys the local Karaoke bar patrons.
Tagline A story of love and grief, second chances, and family life. An M/M GFY-ish romance, featuring a hoard of feral children, a stolen pram, a Midwifery blog and an ill advised stint on TV. Oh yes and a Man who has lost hope and another who never gave it up.Blurb This is a story about life and death. Because there has never been anyone else for Jens. He had been with Sofie almost all his life, from the day they met at school when they were fifteen, until the day she took her final breath against his chest. She was always everything to him. As he was to her. He never doubted that. Not for a minute.This is a story of hope, where Axel Kleve keeps himself too busy to even stop and think. Work, sleep, eat, repeat. He loves his job as a Midwife at Oslo’s University Hospital, He’s good at lecturing and training, and now he has somehow been pushed into running “Ask Axel,” a midwifery blog on PNN.no, the parenting-site everyone in Norway trusts.This is a tale of second chances. Jens, he doesn’t let himself think of Axel. He doesn’t think of Axel at all. And Axel needs to stop longing for that one crush he’s never been able to leave behind. It’s just plain ridiculous. He should have got over Jens Sommerfeldt years ago.A song about family and love and happiness found in small doses. Of trying to parent when you don’t know how. Of finding love where you always knew it lived. This is the story of a little harbour. The place in your heart you didn’t know was there.
Excerpt“Can I have a hug? Please?” Axel asks. He can’t help it. He needs one. He needs to know that Jens is still Jens. His Jens. The one who hugged him every time they met up all those years ago. Jens always hugged him to say hello. Always hugged him goodbye. Always. He needs Jens to still be Jens. Jens doesn’t hug him. Jens body slams him, so hard Axel thinks he might fall over. Stumbling backwards while Jens’ arms are squeezing him, so hard he can’t breathe, and there is hot breath against Axel’s neck and it is so Jens. All-consumingly Jens. Allhim. “I fucking missed you so much.” Jens whispers, his voice hoarse and quiet.I’m all yours.” Axel whispers back. “I always was.”
About the Author
Sophia Soames should be old enough to know better but has barely grown up. She has been known to fangirl over tv-shows, has fallen in and out of love with more popstars than she dares to remember, and has a ridiculously high-flying (un-) glamourous real-life job.Her long-suffering husband just laughs at her antics. Their children are feral. The AuPair just sighs. She lives in a creaky old house in rural London, although her heart is still in Scandinavia.Discovering that the stories in her head make sense when written down has been part of the most hilarious midlife crisis ever and she hopes it may long continue.
Facebook: Sophia Soames
Tumblr: sophia soames
Come and enter a super chilled Scandinavian style laid back competition. Just sit back, follow Sophia on social media if you wish, and enter to win a cozy Little Harbour inspired ‘Hygge’ pack featuring a Little Harbour printed tea towel and an Amazon £10 gift card. And it wouldn’t be Scandinavian without FIKA, so I will throw in a $5 Starbucks gift voucher too. How is that for a relaxing prize?
Competition ends December 22 and 3 (yes 3!) lucky winners will be drawn to win a Hygge pack each. Good luck!
Omega werewolf Casey Niemi has grown up in the safety of his adopted pack. He can’t remember what took him from his original family–and he doesn’t want to, even if it might explain why getting too close to an alpha makes him panic. He’s moving on with his life and totally has it under control–until a new alpha shows up and throws Casey’s world completely off kilter. Alpha werewolf Adam Vinick wants to improve the lives of omegas through the power of rigorous scientific research. After the death of his omega dad, he left his father’s pack and has never looked back. But he’s been having a hard time finding omegas for his study, and his life’s work may be cancelled if he can’t show results soon. When he turns to the Niemis for help, he’s not expecting an omega like Casey. Adam and Casey have instant chemistry–the kind that explodes on contact. When the Niemis send Casey to assist Adam on his research trip, enemies become reluctant allies and it doesn’t take long for them to argue their way into each other’s beds. But can their long road lead them to each other’s hearts?
Dessa Lux also writes fanfic as Dira Sudis and has one novel published as Dira Lewis through Less Than Three Press. She is a confirmed Midwesterner, a librarian, and a Diet Coke addict, but she does not own a cat. You can find Dessa on Twitter @DessaLux, or at http://www.dessalux.com
Blurb June, 1981: The small town of Frentana on the Adriatic coast of Italy was the last place Bobby would have suspected that his titanic struggle with being gay would come to a head. But then he hadn’t reckoned on the town’s evil secret weapon – Dario, a Michaelangelo man with a missionary zeal for sex with men and the tightest trousers that Bobby had ever set eyes on. But then Bobby wasn’t the first Englishman in that bright land where the olive trees grew, to be dazzled and beguiled by a local boy. For there was another love story that had yet to be told. A hidden affair separated from Bobby and Dario by almost forty years. An inspiring tale of a great war time romance between two very special young men and one with which Bobby would become strangely linked.ExcerptAugust, 1969Florence, ItalyAs the short, strong stranger drew level with Bobby, this young man, still engaged in deep conversation with his friends, nonchalantly reached down and pulled at the front of his trousers, as if scratching an itch in his groin. For a split-second, time seemed to freeze, and Bobby became lost in a moment of furtive fascination as this Florentine beauty continued touching and prodding himself between his legs. Then, in complete disregard for the very public place in which they stood, he suggestively adjusted the contents of his trousers, in much the same way a shopper in a supermarket might casually rummage in a heavy bag of vegetables. The encounter lasted only a few seconds, and then the young blood and his equally attractive gang of friends were gone, leaving Bobby strangely crushed at the thought that this beautiful creature hadn’t even noticed he was there. The clock on the tower above his head struck eight, and time started up again. When Bobby glanced back at his family, his father was pointing enthusiastically toward the corner of the square where, having finally spotted their destination, they went on to spend a very enjoyable evening at the restaurant, and he thought no more about it.Bobby found coming home to England after such a great holiday in Italy quite depressing, particularly when he realised that school would resume the following week. So once again, he turned his attention to more mundane matters like his unfinished holiday homework, and all too quickly, the glittering streets of Italy seemed just a distant memory. Until that day when he made his bitter discovery.It was early evening, not long after returning home. Alone in his bedroom, he gazed out of the window at their back garden. The red summer roses were dying back, and the rain was drizzling down. Why the memory came to him then, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps he heard the clock in the hallway downstairs chime eight. But come it did and, for whatever reason, he suddenly remembered the attractive young men in the street outside the restaurant in Florence. In particular, the one with the very tight trousers and the bulging fly. The one who couldn’t have been less like a girl. And then the penny dropped. He had been admiring a man, and, he suddenly realised, it hadn’t been the first time. These days, he was often looking at men that way and in particular at the contents of their trousers. Furthermore, when he thought about it, he always had. The picture by his bed, the rugby players in the park and the rough cowboys on television, and, yes, he was marvelling at men because he liked the look of them and the way they made him feel when he captured them in his sights. He wanted them. He had gazed at those men in the street back in Italy the way other boys at school or indeed his brother Charlie talked about looking at girls. So, there in the bedroom that evening at the end of the summer, staring into the back garden through the window, Bobby finally made the connection. A moment forever fixed in time. There was a name for this. He was a homosexual.
About the Author
Lazlo Thorn published his first novel (The Signal Box) in 2018. In his work he explores themes about life, death, love and sexuality, set against the social mores and prevailing attitudes to gay sex at different times and in different places. Pain and Promise is his second novel and takes the reader to a small town on the Adriatic coast of Italy where two love stories, separated by almost forty years, become linked in an unexpected way. The author has lived and worked in various countries and travelled widely in Europe and beyond. Today, he lives in England with his husband, in a quiet seaside town on the south coast.
Blurb After ruining his chances with Sebastian, Meik is plagued by the past and haunted by the present. His escape: booze and sex. But the memories of Gabe continuously well up and never ebb. They become an ever-present companion he cannot escape.
Will he hoist himself out of depression to seal the past and face the present or will he lose himself in the bottom of the bottle?
This is the fourth and FINAL book of the Gay Erotic Romance “Obsessed”. It features explicit adult m/m content as well as romantic elements. Warning: mentions of illness and death.
Meik checked his hair in the rearview mirror. One more time before slipping out of his father’s car. He’d pulled it up to the curb in front of Gabe’s house about ten minutes ago; he’d spent all of those ten minutes fixing his hair. Again and again. It was obsessive, and he knew it, but he wanted to look his best for Gabe.
Smoothing down his shirt, he headed to the front door and rang the doorbell. He waited for a beat before pushing the door open. Gabe’s mother paused in the doorway, eyeing Meik. “Oh, it’s you,” she said, not remotely surprised to see him.
“Well, nice to see you too.” Meik snorted.
She waved her hand, looking up at the stairs. “Gabe! Meik’s here!” she called before facing Meik again. “Where are you two going?”
Meik stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “There’s a new movie, and we might go get something to eat after.” He left out that they’d probably end up making out in the car at some point. They’d agreed to keep the date thing a secret, and they were definitely keeping the making out and heavy petting to themselves as well.
Nodding, she headed back to the kitchen. “Don’t stay out too late and let me know if you’ll spend the night.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned.
“Don’t call me ma’am!”
Meik’s comeback died on his tongue when he heard footsteps on the stairs. His eyes fixed on Gabe, heart throbbing madly in his chest. Neither of them had dressed out of the ordinary. They didn’t want to raise suspicion, but Meik still thought Gabe looked breathtaking. His dark eyes glittered, and a rose petal pink blush adorned his cheeks. The clothes he wore were a bit tighter than normal, jeans clung to slender thighs, and a fitted t-shirt emphasized his thin, narrow chest. Meik’s palms itched with the desire to touch, to grope. He wanted to see what that ass looked like without those pants on.
Swallowing, Meik turned towards the door. “Ready to go?” He was surprised at how calm he sounded. His mouth felt dry, tongue heavy.
“Yeah,” Gabe replied, a thud signifying that he’d jumped down the last two steps. He always did that, and his mother always said he was going to break an ankle one day. “Bye, mom!”
“Bye, honey, be careful!” She didn’t even peek out again.
Meik almost felt bad. They weren’t lying. Not really. They were going to hang out, just as more than friends. It had been Gabe’s idea not to tell his parents and telling Meik’s had never been an option. Gabe thought if his parents—especially his mother—found out, Meik wouldn’t be allowed to come over and stay the night anymore. It made a lot of sense, and if things progressed with them, the cover of being friends would make it so much easier to get Gabe into bed.
Not that Meik had spent way too much time fantasizing about that lately.
About the Authors
This is Quin&Perin. We are a team of Sultry Gay Romance writers who focus on detailed, toe-curling, and realistic smut scenes with a fair share of dirty talking (Oh, boy). Unlike other authors, we write without the goal of publishing anything. Publishing is just the cherry on top of a cream-covered bubble butt.
Teru came to Tokyo with dreams of making it big in the glam-metal visual kei scene, but three years later, all he has to show for it is a head of hot pink hair and some skill with an eyeliner pencil. He may look the part, but he doesn’t sound it, and constant bickering among his bandmates has him worried about his future. When he finds a mysterious business card in his bag, he’s willing to take any help he can get. Help comes in the form of Rei, a crippled, disfigured composer whose own career was ended by an accident before it had really begun. With Teru’s voice and looks, and Rei’s money and songwriting skills, both of their dreams seem about to come true – but a forbidden kiss and a late-night confession threaten to tear it all apart. Now Teru, who has spent most of his life denying his attraction to men, and Rei, who vowed long ago never to love again, must reconcile their feelings with their careers – and with their carefully constructed ideas of themselves.
THE STARS MAY RISE AND FALL is an M/M retelling of Phantom of the Opera, set in Tokyo at the turn of the millennium. It comes with a healthy dose of angst and a dollop of nostalgia, as well as an age-difference romance, a physically disabled love interest, and memorable characters who will stay with you long after the pages are closed.
Teru ran his finger around the edge of the card. Maybe it had been a mistake. Should he call, and let whoever had left it know?
He opened the window and lit a cigarette. The smoke floated out into the muggy Tokyo night.
“This is stupid,” he said aloud. “It’s one in the morning. Whoever it is, they’re asleep.”
But Teru wasn’t asleep. His bandmates probably weren’t asleep either. If it was a musician who had left the card, one in the morning was better than one in the afternoon.
I can help you. Call me.
He picked up his phone and dialed.
It rang once, twice—and Teru cut the connection. This is stupid. But he didn’t feel stupid. He felt guilty, like he’d been doing something he shouldn’t.
He stubbed out the cigarette and walked across the room to the refrigerator. Nothing but a pack of noodles and a flat Diet Coke. Even though he’d already had a couple with the guys after the show, what Teru really needed was a beer.
On the other side of the room, the phone rang.
The floor was littered with clothes and magazines and Playstation controllers. Teru almost tripped as he lunged for the phone, and then only crouched there, watching it, with his nerves wrapped around his voice box like a snake. There was no name with the number, but Teru knew it by heart. He’d only been staring at it for the past hour.
The ringing stopped. An engine rumbled outside Teru’s window, and a train clattered over distant tracks. Upstairs, slippered feet padded across a tatami floor. The air was thick with an anticipation far from silence—but just as easily shattered by the trill of a different ring.
Teru’s fingers fumbled to open the text.
I heard you sing.
He stared, waiting for the words to sink in. They didn’t, though. They made no sense.
It had only been a mistake after all.
You’ve got the wrong number, he replied. This is Teru, the drummer for La Rose Verboten. I don’t sing.
And then: You should.
The phone rang again.
“You have a beautiful voice.”
It wasn’t Yasu. It wasn’t anyone he knew.
“Hello?” Teru repeated. “Who is this?”
“A friend.” The voice was male, deep and effortlessly sensual in a way that Seika would have envied. It made Teru distinctly uncomfortable.
“Look,” Teru said. “I think you want Bara. I’m not the singer. I’m the drummer. The one with pink hair?”
“I heard you,” the man pressed. “In the dressing room. I can help you.”
In the dressing room? There’d been no one else in there.
“Is this some kind of joke?”
“Not at all.”
“What do you want?” Teru whispered.
“To teach you. To help you. Will you meet with me?”
Teru’s palms were sweaty, his face flushed. It was partly exhaustion, partly a lingering buzz… but it was more than that. He felt dirty. This was worse than what he felt with Seika—and it was just a voice on the goddamn phone.
“There’s a studio in Koenji,” he heard himself say.
“No!” the man snapped, and he took a sharp, hissing breath. “No studios. You may come to my apartment.”
“Please. It is… difficult, for me to go out.”
“Um… okay.” What the hell did that mean?
“I live in Meguro,” the man said. “Near the live house. I can send you the address. If you’ll come.” There was a plea in his voice, a quiet desperation. Teru swallowed, hard.
“You want to give me singing lessons?”
This was insane. “When?”
“Whenever you are free.”
Teru glanced at his calendar. June, 2000. Three years, almost to the day, since he had stepped off the night bus from Niigata. After all that time, he didn’t even have anything to lose.
About the Author
Estella Mirai lives just outside of Tokyo with her human family and a very spoiled lap cat. When she isn’t reading or writing, she works in editing and translation—which means that 99% percent of her day is usually words. In her minimal free time, she enjoys watching musicals, cooking (badly), and slaughtering power ballads at karaoke.