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RELEASE BLITZ: “Soul of the Imperian” by Jessamyn Kingley.

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Soul of the Imperian (D’Vaire, Book 26)

Author: Jessamyn
Kingley

Publisher:
Self-published

Cover Artist: LJ Anderson of
Mayhem Cover Creations

Release Date: December 9,
2021

Genre: M/M Fantasy/Paranormal Romance

Tropes: Enemies to lovers, fated mates

Themes: Fate, love

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length: 96 664
words

It is not a standalone story,
but does not end on a cliffhanger.

Check out the D’vaire Series
on Goodreads

Buy Links – Available in Kindle
Unlimited

Amazon US | Amazon UK

Demons are expected to
hate the Imperian, but what if he’s your mate?

Blurb

Praetor Sashati Soriandras is adjusting to his wonderful
new life as part of the Council of Sorcery and Shifters. His new leader’s choice to leave the
demonic realm gained Sashati’s immediate approval. There is nothing there but dark

memories and a horrible legend about the butcher who ripped magic from the demons a
millennium ago.

After being banished to a tiny realm, Imperian
Paszratorabiel—or Paszra, as he prefers to be called—is waiting for his wings to grow back.
The minute he recovers, Paszra hunts for a place to bring his family so they can find mates.
When Paszra finds a planet full of interesting beings, the presence of demons is the only
thing he hates about his potential new home.

When Sashati and Paszra meet, neither man is happy to
learn they are mates. The demons blame Paszra for everything, while the Imperian despises
Sashati’s people. However, they share a tradition of not denying Fate. But to honor the way
their souls are connected, Paszra and Sashati must overcome much more than their initial
dislike of each other.

Excerpt

After they arrived in their office space, Sashati sprawled in
his office chair and opened the book Arch Lich Chander Daray had suggested would further
his education on the Council.

“Reading again?” Diyarta asked. Once forced into teaching,
Diyarta had left that life behind her for good. Her preference was to be in a gym sweating
rather than burying her nose in between pages.

“I’m an advisor to our leader. I cannot function in that role
if I don’t fully understand the Council.”

“Are you suggesting that I’m failing in my role as advisor?”
Diyarta asked.

“I believe we have different strengths. You have the ear of
the demons. You can advise Hexaniys on how to improve their lives. They are strangers to
me and him. In our former realm and here in the Council, advisors have areas of expertise. If
we were to study the same thing, our voices would be redundant.”

“You were so wasted as a guard in that palace,” Diyarta
remarked.

“As long as I never have to return to such a role, I will have
no complaints.”

“The same cannot be said for our people. You want to be
an expert on the Council, but you cannot forget your place. Hexaniys lives with the Darays
because he is one now. You are not. Hexaniys is safe surrounded by sentinels.”

“So are the demons,” Sashati replied. “They live in the
Daray Sentinel Complex.”

“It is a temporary home, or at least it was supposed to be, I
believed. They want to embrace being demons, not be forced into training and the things
that sentinels love simply because the Imperator is mated to one.”

“No one has asked them to train. I do it because I like
it.”

“As do I,” Diyarta said.

“One reason the complex suits them is because of the
many classes the sentinels offer in the evenings and on weekends. It was supposed to be an
avenue for the demons to learn about the Council and to find something to give their lives
purpose. Instead, they shop and rest in their apartments. They will go to restaurants for
meals but not to the sentinels’ cafeteria.”

“I told you, they fear being lumped in with the
sentinels.”

“They must find hobbies at the very least,” Sashati
replied.

“They are recovering from the atrocities they’ve
endured.”

“Diyarta, they refuse to even explain what happened while
we were here at the behest of Masal’akra. How are we to help them if they will not discuss
the war?”

“Perhaps when the wounds are not so fresh, they’ll be
more forthcoming.”

“It has been many weeks,” Sashati said.

“They worry about you living with Hexaniys among the
sentinel leadership.”

It was a cause of disagreement that had slowly grown
between Sashati and Diyarta. The demons supposedly wanted Sashati to live among them,
but Hexaniys and the Darays had offered bedrooms to Sashati and Diyarta. His fellow
praetor had refused the invitation and gone to the Daray Sentinel Complex.

Sashati was torn between the two places and didn’t know if
he was right to stay near Hexaniys, but the demon refused to be dictated to by anyone. That
was a life they’d left behind, and the new Imperator gave them plenty of space to make
decisions for themselves. The problem, as far as Sashati could see it, was that the demons

wanted to do nothing. They spent money and complained to Diyarta instead of exploring
the Council.

“The guards of other leaders often elect to share homes or
land with them,” Sashati said.

“Demons must find their own path.”

“I’m entitled to do what I choose.”

“Just don’t forget that you’re a demon.”

“How could I ever do that?” Sashati asked.

“It’s easy to get swept away into this world of sorcery and
shifters, even though we differ from the others in this world. Our power is lost, and we must
never forget how that came to be or that there is no ability to regain it.”

“My hatred for the Imperian burns as brightly as it has
since the first time I heard his name,” Sashati growled. The Imperian inspired rage in him like
nothing else could, and he doubted any demon lamented the loss of their magic more than
Sashati. There was so much of it around them, and it pissed Sashati off to think that if it
weren’t for a single man, he’d be casting spells alongside his new allies.

“I wish I had been alive in those days. I would’ve slit his
throat myself.”

“Get in line, Diyarta,” Sashati retorted.

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

Join her Facebook group, Jessamyn’s Ruffian’s

Social Media Links

Facebook | Twitter |
Pinterest | Facebook

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Continue ReadingRELEASE BLITZ: “Soul of the Imperian” by Jessamyn Kingley.

RELEASE BLITZ: “Blessings and Miracles” by H.M. Wolfe. Rafflecopter Giveaway Included!

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Blessings
and Miracles (Full Circle Christmas Edition)

Author: H.M.
Wolfe

Publisher:
Self-Published

Cover Artist: A.M.
Snead

Release Date: December 9,
2021

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance

Tropes: Second chance, found family, insta-love

Themes: Christmas wedding, family reunion, supportive family, Christmas
party, marital bliss

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 56 000
words

It is not a standalone story,
but does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links – Available in Kindle
Unlimited

Amazon US | Amazon UK

It is that time of the
year again…

Blurb

It is that time of the year again…

With her niece Willa and her nephews’ Sebastian
and Fabian’s life partner Vincent and husband Lance as trusted kitchen helpers, Zoe Stark
throws another epic Christmas party at the family mansion near Hartford, Connecticut. All
the members of the Stark and Bloom clans are going to be present, and there are a lot of
achievements and happy events to celebrate.

Zane Parsons, a young widower, drives all the way
to Orlando, Florida, to Connecticut, to honor the promise he made his grandmother on her
deathbed. He is torn between hoping for a new life for him and his only child and the fear of
being rejected. Zane strongly believes in Christmas miracles, but will he experience one,
too?

After being separated from the only man he ever
loved for more than thirty years, Rhett Randall gathers his courage and drives to his
ex-husband family’s mansion to talk to him for what could be the last time. It could be a
total disaster, but it could also be one of those magic moments associated with
Christmas.

The Christmas carols mix with the pitty-pat sound
of little children’s feet and their happy giggles in this gay romance novel about blessings,
miracles and the power of love in its many forms

Excerpt

“We won’t be ready on time,” Zoe Stark lamented in the middle of the Connecticut
mansion’s spacious kitchen. “All my nephews and nieces coming to visit me will starve on
Christmas Day because the deli’s delivery service takes forever,” she continued in a
desperate tone.

“Nana Zoe, calm down, please, everything will be all right,” Ava, the woman’s
granddaughter, spoke in a soft but confident voice. “If the deli fails to deliver the order, we
have Dunstan, Leon, and the others who can take care of the problem in the blink of an eye.

“Yes, Nana, listen to my wise little sister and try to relax a bit. All this agitation won’t do any
good for your blood pressure. On the contrary,” Rayne intervened, taking his grandmother’s
hands between his own.

“How can you be so calm, child? Your son comes home after spending a year abroad, he’s
going to ask Claran to marry him, and you are telling me to relax? What will Gerrard think
about his Nana when he and his fiancé sit at an empty table on Christmas Day?” Zoe shook
her head, sighing dramatically.

“Nana, I don’t think Gerrard and Claran will get engaged this Christmas,” Rayne calmly
spoke. “I know my son, and he would have told me had he intended to propose to his
boyfriend. We don’t keep anything secret from each other,” the man said in a confident
voice.

Zoe let out another sigh, suddenly saddened. “And I was thinking that… Anyway,” the
woman continued in a livelier voice, “engagement party or not, there is still the problem of
the Christmas dinner. The menu I chose for this year is very special to me, but, in the
absence of the meats and ingredients…”

“Auntie, everything is fine,” Willa, Zoe’s niece, who just ended the phone call she was
engaged in, said “I talked to the people at the deli store, and the delivery truck is on its way.
With all the ice on the road, they had to slow down a bit and…”

“Enough talking. Let’s get to work.” Zoe clapped her hands, bouncing back to her usual
organized and commanding self. “Where is Lance when you need him the most?”

“He’s in the dining room with Vincent and Joraan waiting for you to tell them what to do,”
Willa answered, amused by her aunt’s sudden change of attitude.

“Call them. I have work for them until the delivery truck arrives. Young man, what are you
doing in my kitchen? I don’t remember me taking over your office at the Van der Meerwe
Institute, so please, go away and let me do what I know best.” Zoe shooed Rayne with a
gesture of her hand.

“Yeah, sure, no one orders the others around like you do,” Alastair’s second-born muttered
under his breath as he left the kitchen.

Rayne headed to the mini-apartment he and his three life partners occupied in the other
wing of the mansion, plopping on the four-post, king-size bed. Seymour and Sagan, two of
his lovers, were helping Ardan with the Christmas party for The Base’s residents, while
Doctor Ross Brentano-Tavernier, the third man in Rayne’s life, was giving the last instructions
to the volunteers working on the sanctuary’s clinic.

Rowena. So, this was her older brother Willard who loved her and her twin sister very much
but couldn’t see them as often as he wanted. Kane mentally facepalmed himself for not
figuring things out earlier. The poor redhead must have been involved with some asshole
who controlled his life and, most likely, abused him in the worst of ways.

“Well, most likely Uncle Alastair gave them a map with the best hiding places,” Sebastian
tried a joke in an attempt to make the atmosphere less tense.

“It’s a possibility I never considered,” Willard replied, his voice a bit livelier than earlier. “I
have nothing against the girls playing all day long, but, when great-uncle Alastair and
Mallory are away, Morwena and Rowena are my responsibility, and I wouldn’t want to lose
their trust.”

“Older brother, you couldn’t find me! I won again!” Rowena hugged Willard, looking up at
him and giggling happily. “I’m the champion, yay!” She did a little victory dance.

“Yes you are, indeed. But don’t forget about your good manners,” Willard said in a soft
voice. “We have guests.” He discreetly gestured to Ian, Warrick, and Kane who were about
to climb the stairs to the main entrance with Sebastian and Vincent as guides.

“Hi, Ian, I’m so happy Warrick brought you with him. The girls’ team needs a big, strong man
like you to help us build a taller snowman.” Rowena cutely grinned. “Your friend Kane is a
gentleman. He let me hide in your car and didn’t rat me out to brother Willard.”

“And voilá!” Ian exclaimed, making great efforts not to burst into a wild fit of laughter. “The
explanation of your mysterious absence from earlier. A couple more clever maneuvers like
this one, and you’ll be in the top position for the kiddies’ preferences.”

“My older brother Fabian won’t be happy about it, and neither will Ardan.” Sebastian
grinned. “Trust me, kid, if you managed to be in Princess Rowena’s good graces in such a
short time, all the others will be at your feet in no time.”

“Run, it’s a trap.” Willard feigned panic. “The shorties will pretend to worship you, but
before you know it, they’ll turn you into their slave. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about,
been there, done that.” Adoration, affection, and warmth mixing in his emerald-green eyes,
Willard picked Rowena up and kissed her on both cheeks. “But you can’t stop loving them.”

“Let’s get inside. You young folks are not affected by this bitter cold, I see, but my old bones
are freezing.” Vincent shivered dramatically, making Warrick, Ian, and even Sebastian smirk.

“Go ahead. I think I’ll stay for a while longer,” Kane said, looking at Willard from the corner
of his eye. “I want to get to know the rest of the…um…shorties,” he continued, blushing a
light shade of pink.

“As you wish, but I wouldn’t advise you to go there unprepared. Listen to Willard; he’s an
invaluable source of advice on how to avoid the kiddies’ traps.” Ian benevolently smiled,
disappearing into the mansion.

“I’m sure I have a lot to learn from him”—Kane offered the redhead a shy smile—“if he
wants to share, that is. I don’t want to become an inconvenience,” he added in a hesitant
voice.

“Brother Willard is alone and sad,” Rowena suddenly spoke in a small voice. “Don’t you want
to be his boyfriend? He’s always good, but Santa never has any presents for him.” She
wrapped her arms around the redhead’s neck.

“Rowena Stark, that was…this is not how things go.” Willard hugged the little girl, then put
her down. ”It’s…it takes time and…relationships are complicated. You’ll understand this
when you grow up.”

“I just remembered I have important things to do.” Rowena ignored the redhead, grinning
cutely. “I’ll leave the two of you to talk.”

“I apologize for my little sister’s behavior. This is not her usual self, she’s…I guess it’s my
fault.” Willard lowered his head.

“I love children very much,” Kane gently spoke, “and I saw you do, too. I’m sure we have
other things in common, as well, and I’m looking forward to discovering them.”

There must have been something in the air that morning that affected people, making them
act differently than usual. From an impulse he couldn’t explain, Kane touched Willard’s hand
with the tips of his fingers, then took it in his. The redhead stared down but didn’t shy away
from the touch, the deep intimacy of the skin-on-skin contact making his heart beat a little
faster.

Kane could sense that Willard Stark had a lot of wounds that went deep down into his soul,
and he kept many painful secrets to himself. However, the redhead was a special man, and
Kane was willing to wait for as long as it would take for Willard to open up to him. Maybe
the two of them were brought together for a reason. Maybe the Christmas magic really
existed. Kane smiled at the thought.

About the Author

H.M. lives with the coolest
Mom in the Universe and a fat, gay, submissive tomcat. She loves writing stories about boys
and men who love, cherish, respect and protect other boys and men.

Social Media Links

Blog/Website |

Facebook | Twitter

Goodreads | BookBub

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BLOG TOUR: “Dark Fate” by Kat Silver. Rafflecopter Giveaway Included!

BLOG TOUR

Book Title: Dark
Fate: An MM urban fantasy romance
(Flame Born Book 2)

Author: Kat
Silver

Publisher: Kat
Silver

Cover Artist:
Bookfly

Release Date: November 12,
2021

Genres: Urban fantasy romance

Tropes: Enemies to lovers

Themes: Self-discovery and
empowerment, finding home, freedom, good vs evil

Heat Rating: 4
flames

Length: 117 000
words

It is not a standalone book,
but part of a series (Flame Born Book
2)

This story ends on a satisfying
cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US | Amazon UK

Torn between finding answers and escaping chains, can
Michael trust his werewolf lover or is the devious vampire prince the only one truly on his
side?

Blurb

“And if I am a monster? Will you want me then?”

Ten days after the battle at Blackriver, Michael struggles
with new forbidden desires, with his rampant Flame, and a deepening relationship with the
taciturn werewolf, Commander Gabriel Flanagan.

Feeling responsible for their loss, Michael longs to rescue
the students stolen by the manipulative vampire prince, Alexei Vasiliev. But the High Council
refuses to free Michael from his chains. They fear the whisperer — the half-breed who
decimated an entire company of soldiers and came back from the dead. Yet, Michael still
yearns for a future among the Guardians. For a place beside his Finnish, silver-eyed giant.
For a home within the crazy supernatural world he’s now bound to.

But does Michael still have a future? He’s a descendent of
the Warlock — from a bloodline that produces only monsters. If discovered, not even his
protective lover can save him from certain execution. He may not want to.

Dark Fate is the second book in the Flame Born
series. This MM urban fantasy/paranormal romance is action packed, featuring steaming hot
scenes, a hunk of an alpha love interest, a chocolate scented snarky vampire prince, a clever
best friend who can kill a man with her little finger, and one too many shady characters to
count. See inside for trigger warnings on both books.

Excerpt

I grip the sink edge, knuckles white, and glare at the
contents of the glass vial lying beside the tap. The viscous liquid, the color of a fine bottled
wine, looks so innocuous. Innocent. A random sample of blood.

There’s nothing innocent about this vial’s contents.

Every time I see it, my mouth salivates with the need for a
taste. Whenever I take the vial from my pocket to caress the cool glass in my hand, a
clamoring monster of desire rips through me like a fire.

Not this time.

I swipe up the tube, twist out the cork, and prepare to pour
the blood away. Metal clanks against ceramic, echoing through the small bathroom, as the
chain between my wrist manacles knocks the sink. A heady smell of cocoa and figs hits my
nostrils. My hand falters. God, that scent.

His scent.

An urgency to inhale the smell deep into my lungs, to press
the glass into my lips and lick the rim, almost takes control.

Alexei. That devious vampire. He knew exactly what he was
doing when he left me with this. His blood constantly tugs at me like an unfinished song.
Like a broken tooth my tongue won’t leave alone.

I could wash temptation away. Watch clear water turn
burgundy as the vile substance slides into the drain.

I won’t.

I’ve faced this trial for ten days, and the result never
changes.

I’ve tried to show the vial to Flanagan. Tried to hand it over
so he can smash the glass and destroy the contents. Somehow, it always returns to my
hiding places. A dirty secret.

About the Author

I’m a simple northern English
lass with an addiction to writing, as well as all things romance. Also addicted to cats, cat
videos, and anything with, you know, cats in it. And there’s chocolate, and tea, coffee too,
and rainy Sundays. Okay, I have many addictions. But my first love has always been story in
all its forms, from movies to books to anecdotes told over a beer at the local pub. If we’re
sharing a story, I’m all ears. And if it’s fantasy with sexy heroes and vampires and lots of
angsty luuurve, I’m probably drooling. Come in, pour yourself a tea, and kick your shoes off.
Let me tell you a story.

Author Links

Blog/Website | Facebook | Facebook Group | Twitter

Instagram | Newsletter Sign-up | BookBub

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AUDIOBOOK RELEASE BLITZ: “Tristan” by S. Legend.

AUDIOBOOK OUT NOW

Book Title:
Tristan

Author: S.
Legend

Publisher: S Legend
Fiction

Narrator: Curtis
Michael

Release Date: November 24,
2021

Genre: Arranged Marriage M/M Romance, fantasy

Tropes: Enemies to lovers, age gap

Themes: Self-discovery, forgiveness

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 9 hours

It is not a standalone story.
Tristan is book one of the Tristan Trilogy. The story
ends on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links

Audiobook Out Now

Audible US | Audible UK

Also available in Kindle Unlimited, Hardback
and Paperback

Amazon US | Amazon UK

An alliance forged through
marriage. The cost? One Man’s dream.

Blurb

An alliance forged through marriage. The cost? One Man’s dream.

Tristan dreams of the day he’ll succeed his father as the
next Warlord of Markaytia. Elves—creatures famous for their darker passions and
tantalizing culture—approach the Markaytian king with an offer he can’t refuse: an alliance
with the Elves for the one Tristan Kanes.

Tristan is forced to give up his dream.

He’s not thrilled, but Tristan is a man of duty above all else.
What choice does he have? He cannot refuse the king or Markaytia. He begrudgingly comes
to terms with the arranged marriage. Is he a tad sour about it? Yes, but he’ll get over it.

Probably.

Maybe it won’t be so bad. Elves have cool weapons,
maybe he’ll get one?

Corrik bans him from cool weapons.

Corrik’s seen Tristan’s gruesome death on the point of a
sword in a prophetic vision. He bans Tristan from picking up a sword ever again. Tristan
wants to accept the marriage with grace to make his people proud, but he resents Corrik for
his remorseless attitude over his life’s work.

Facing the Ice Prince and himself.

Tristan’s conflict follows him on the journey to the
mysterious Elven land of Mortouge. He hates Corrik for taking him from the life he loved,
boy does he, but his new Elven husband is an enigma and he’s captivated. He sets Tristan’s
blood on fire and freezes it at the same time. Corrik unravels Tristan’s true nature and
despite his best efforts, Tristan falls for his ice prince.

But Corrik won’t bend.

Corrik wants to be obeyed. He’s demanding and
possessive. He’s overbearingly protective.

Can these two find a suitable compromise? Or will Tristan’s
resentment and Corrik’s arrogance ruin forever their chance at love?

Tristan by Mock (S. Legend) is a gay romance fantasy featuring enemies-to-lovers vibes, an age
gap, arranged marriage, first times, and a happy ending (um, eventually). This is the first
action-adventure romance in the Tristan Trilogy. Mock may have written it down, but truly
it’s told by your lovable host, Tristan Kanes. He’s funny, sarcastic and while it may not seem
it at times, he’s the real person in charge of this story.

Excerpt

Hi. I’m Tristan Kanes. At least I was once upon a time. Tomorrow, who knows who I’m going
to be? But I digress. I’m getting ahead of myself as usual. I’ll back up a bit. I thought it would
be a good idea to attempt to run away from my destiny, but destiny tends to follow a
person.

I’ve reached the upper ridges of Markaytia’s North Wood and I’ve been gone for several
hours. Lucca will come after me soon. I creep to the edge of the plateau and look out to her,
to Markaytia. Tomorrow, I’m to marry an Elven Prince. I know it sounds luxurious, every
boy’s dream and all, but it isn’t that simple.

I must give up my entire life for this man.

It’s not long before I hear footsteps I recognize behind me. I’m certain of whom it is. I don’t
even turn to look, until the tree branch pokes into my back.

He wants to fight me today, does he? I jump up with lightning speed, conditioned from the
day I could stand on two feet and because I always take reconnaissance of my surroundings,
I know there is a stick for me to use against him, two feet away. I snatch it up and take a
defensive stance against my assassin. I strike, slice, slash, pierce, and segment his pathetic
battle strategy—well, pathetic against mine. My cousin is a formidable swordsman—I
outsmart him at every turn with my dexterous footwork and accom‐ plished foresight.

We’ve fought in many battles since the time we were fifteen and trained together from
almost the moment we sprang from the womb—it’s in our blood. Peace is a warrior’s
mission, yet in succeeding, he renders himself useless. It makes him no less driven to battle.
Peace is a fleeting season, even for Markaytia, and I sense that this season of peace has had
its turn and war is on the horizon. Either way, everywhere is dangerous now and the people
need protection. War will continue to happen whether I want it to or not and when it does, I

want to be the one leading the troops.

Now to convince my husband-to-be of that.

About the Author

Some of you know her as
Mock, others as S. Legend, or Miss S. She welcomes all names but will often go by Mock, a
name given to her by her readers.

Mock is an ambitious
creative, weaving the most precious aspects of her soul into stories. She is an architect,
building fascinating worlds, designed from inquiry, rooted in worldly wonderings. It’s an
intuitive process where she is the scribe, the translator, the conduit.

It helped that storytelling was
the language spoken at home. One simply didn’t say, “We have an ant infestation. ” In
Mock’s family it was, “I was on my way to the living room, when a peculiar ant crossed my
path. I looked to my right, a suspicious line of them marched toward the pantry. In that
moment I knew; my kitchen was under siege.” The natural flow of conversation always took
this form.

And so.

When Mock wrote her first
novel, she didn’t plan it chapter by chapter, there was no outline, no “plotting” to speak of.
But she didn’t “pants” it either, she didn’t make it up as she went along. She knew how the
story felt, where it curved in places and hollowed in others; she knew the destination it
rushed toward. Instead of orchestrating, she let the world inspire her, and held space for
the words to come, trusting the characters knew what they were doing. All she had to do
was tell a story, as she always had done; like breathing.

This is her peace, her healing
and solace: Gifts better shared.

Mock’s works are the comfort
you seek when you need to come home. Her unique writing style will take you, wayfaring
reader, to unexpected destinations.

She always says, “I’m not in
the business of making up stories, I couldn’t if I tried. I’m lucky enough to get picked to
share someone else’s story when I ask a question to the universe. Someone answers; I write
it down.”

Social Media Links

Blog/Website | Facebook | Twitter |
Instagram

Newsletter Sign-up: Can
either sign up at the website or email

Pinterest | BookBub

About the Narrator

Curtis Michael is a worldly
creative and proud member of the LGBTQ+ and BIPOC communities. Having traveled and
taught drama overseas for upwards of the past decade, he has somewhat recently taken up
voice acting and narration. You’ll hear some of the flavourings of his experience in the
Tristan audiobook, as the characters are wildly inspired from not only the world of Tristan,
but also Curtis’ different cultural encounters. With two dogs, two cats and a Corrik of his
own, Curtis currently resides in Southeast Asia. He can be found on the many beaches or
secluded in his vocal booth poring over juicy stories at every chance he gets.

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RELEASE BLITZ: “Mongrel” by Lee Colgin. $10.00 Amazon Giftcard Giveaway Included!

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Mongrel

Author: Lee
Colgin

Publisher: Colgin
Enterprise

Cover Artist: Natasha
Snow

Release Date: November 18,
2021

Genre: MM Paranormal Romance

Heat Rating: 4
flames

Length: 76 000
words

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

Goodreads

Buy Links – Available in Kindle
Unlimited

Universal
Link | Amazon US | Amazon UK

A misfit
wolf

A guilt-ridden
vampire

A chilling
mystery

Blurb

Mongrel, a creature more wolf than man, leads a lonely life
on the fringes of pack society—until the night a handsome vampire shows up with a
mysterious request.

Bowie—a vampire cursed to a life of endless
nights—maintains close ties with his human family. When young girls in their village go
missing, he must act quickly. But to find them, he’ll need to convince the local werewolf
pack to loan him their best tracker—a wolf known as the Mongrel.

Though he hates the slur, Andras is used to being called
Mongrel. When Bowie refuses to refer to him by anything but his given name, Andras can’t
help a flicker of unexpected trust toward the stranger. He volunteers to help Bowie, risking
banishment.

Can two tender-hearted men overcome their traumatic
pasts and work together to rescue the girls before it’s too late? Or will the world’s most
prolific killer snuff the flames of their passion along with the lives of her captives?

***

This steamy love story spans the country of Hungary
as Andras and Bowie journey through cities and wilderness on their quest to right a killer’s
wicked wrongs. Mongrel features a sweetly possessive werewolf, a cinnamon roll of a
vampire, and the worst serial killer in history. A surprisingly fluffy MM Paranormal/Historical
Romance considering the subject matter.

HEA guaranteed with loads of laughs along the way
and no cliffhanger ending!

Excerpt

The Kingdom of Hungary,
1610

I watch the ground pass by beneath my paws
rather than risk meeting the eyes of the other wolves. They probably aren’t looking anyway,
having better things to do than greet the
mongrel, even on a full moon. I’ve spent so long
pretending not to care it’s almost worked. Who needs them? Not me.

I give a full-body shake to settle my fur how I like it
and amble toward the heart of the village, a cool night breeze keeping me company. The
chattering of insects pings from the forest beyond a row of humble cottages as I continue
past.

Anticipating tonight’s run has me eager. I imagine
the frantic heartbeat of my prey as I target my dinner. Pent-up energy dances in my muscles,
tickling every nerve and rumbling in my chest.

I love the hunt. Nothing else in my life brings the
satisfaction I take from stalking, chasing, and tearing into my prize. It’s one of the few
activities where the others tolerate my presence. Though they’ll never admit I’m the better
predator, they’re always willing to devour the feast I provide.

Only Ava treats me as equal. She’s too old and frail
to hunt for herself these days, but I’ll be sure to bring her a choice portion. Nothing beats a
fresh meal, and she deserves the pleasure more than anyone.

It wasn’t always like this. I had friends once when
childhood still sang with innocence and the world had yet to slam its doors on me. But
remembering better times only brings sorrow, so I move forward to whatever tonight might
hold.

Voices sound from fifty paces ahead. Odd because
most of the pack would normally have shifted by dusk. Among them, a voice I don’t
recognize floats to my ears.

“I must speak with your alpha,” says a smooth
tenor, calm, though his timbre vibrates with urgency. “The matter is vital.”

Risking an upward glance, I scan the gathering.
Jolan and Ozor, the pack’s enforcers, stand in their human forms facing the speaker, both
tense and braced for a fight. But the stranger’s posture isn’t threatening. He’s neat, wearing
charcoal stockings under a crisp blue tunic. Knee-high black boots gleam with a recent

polish. Spine straight, shoulders back, weight settled in the heels, not the toes. Nut-brown
hair hangs tied at his nape, most of it hidden beneath a fashionable black hat. If his features
weren’t puckered with annoyance, he might be handsome.

I creep closer on silent paws, ears flicked
forward.

“We’re busy,” barks Ozor. “Or hadn’t you noticed
the moon? Come back another night.”

The stranger’s lips part, but before he can reply,
Farkas storms through his front door.

Clad only in a pair of worn tan breeches, the pack
alpha thunders down the porch stairs and into the commons. Even barefoot, Farkas is
intimidating, towering head and shoulders over the others. His black eyes land on the
stranger in a threatening glower, but the man isn’t shaken.

“You’re the alpha, I presume?” The stranger
extends a hand, his movement graceful, as if he’s been invited to a friendly tea instead of
invading hostile werewolf territory on a full moon.

Farkas ignores the proffered hand. “Your kind isn’t
welcome here.”

Your kind.
Wondering what that means, I inch forward so I can scent him for myself.

The stranger returns his arm to his side, fingers
curled but not fisted. “And you have my apologies, but this couldn’t be avoided.” His
eyebrows arch as he inclines his head. “We must speak.”

I sniff the air. His scent is masked by soaps.
Lavender was used for his clothes, rose for his skin and hair, but beneath the added
fragrance lies the spiced scent of blood—his own, yes, but also…someone else’s? That’s
odd.

“Then speak,” growls Farkas. “What do you want
from me, vampire?”

A vampire!
I’ve never seen one before. He looks so…human. Fragile. Not what I’d expect of a
blood-drinking night terror at all.

About the Author

Lee Colgin has loved
vampires since she read Dracula on a hot, sunny beach at 13 years old. She lives in North
Carolina with lots of dogs and her husband. No, he’s not a vampire, but she loves him
anyway. Lee likes to workout so she can eat the maximum amount of cookies with her pizza.
Ask her how much she can bench press.

Social Media Links

Blog/Website |
Facebook Group | Twitter

Newsletter Sign-up | BookBub

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RELEASE BLITZ: “Fractured Mind” by Matthew Dante

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Fractured
Mind

Author: Matthew
Dante

Publisher:
Self-Published

Cover Artist: The Ravens
Touch

Release Date: November 18,
2021

Genre: M/M Thriller

Tropes: Obsessive love

Themes: Dark Romance, obsession, revenge

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length: 60 000 words/ 300
pages

It is the second book in the
Fractured Boys series and does not end on a
cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links – Available in Kindle
Unlimited

Amazon US | Amazon UK

There is nothing more
dangerous than a man alone with his thoughts.

Blurb

People have been disappearing all across the State with no
apparent connection to one another. Police are baffled and struggling to determine if the
disappearances are connected or are simply isolated incidents. There are no bodies or

evidence- only abandoned vehicles and missing persons reports.

Meanwhile, Alex Sanders is battling his own demons…

Almost a year after surviving a horrific weekend held
captive by his former best friend, Marc, Alex is now a freshman at the University of
Tennessee. Desperately trying to start over, he is consumed with depression, anxiety, and
guilt for the murder that he helped cover up. Always fearful of being discovered, Alex can’t
help but wonder, is Marc still secretly watching him?

Could Marc’s obsession with him have something to do
with the current flood of disappearances across the State?

All things seem to lead back to that fateful weekend… the
one that started with murder … and ended in betrayal.


Warning: This book
contains scenes which may be considered triggering events for some involving extreme
violence, murder, kidnapping, and torture.

Excerpt

Alex had never felt such excruciating pain! It was as if his
shoulder was leaning against a furnace during a winter blizzard. His shoulder was on fire,
and he began to see stars in front of his eyes. He wished for the pain to stop!
Please, God, if you are watching, please make
this pain stop! I’ll do anything you ask! I’m sorry I was not a better man!

Perhaps this was karma finally catching up to him for the
role he played in Shawn’s death. While Alex was not the one that ultimately ended Shawn’s
life, he also did nothing to report the murder or try to find Marc and bring him to justice.

Yes, Karma was finally here to collect.

The figure standing in front of Alex slowly began to turn the
blade as blood and flesh began to tear aware from his body.

Alex cried out again in pain as his tears mixed with the

blood that now slid down his arm and onto the straws of hay that peppered the ground of
the barn.

He deserved this. He watched a man die and remained
silent. Alex was finally getting what he
deserved.

Alex’s cry of pain was cut short as his face was splashed
with a warm liquid. He opened his eyes startled, just in time to watch his torturer fall to the
ground with a thump. Puzzled, Alex looked up.

Standing in front of him, holding a blood-stained bat, was
his demon savior… the man who had caused so much pain in his life… the man whom he
once cared for deeply… Marc.

“Marc?” Alex whispered, half in shock, half in disbelief.

This had to be one of his hallucinations brought on by the
pain he was enduring. There was no way that Marc was standing right in front of him. No
way.

Marc dropped the bloody bat and pulled the butterfly
blade from his back pocket. He knelt down and gently touched Alex’s tear-stained face.

Alex felt a slight tingling sensation when Marc’s fingertips
touched his face. It was as if a thousand little electric currents were running from Marc’s
fingers to his cheek.

Alex stared up into Marc’s soft brown eyes. There was so
much emotion in those eyes; fear, anger, and a hint of something else… longing??

Staring into those eyes, Alex thought about the countless
nights the two of them stayed up late chatting together. The days when it had just been the
two of them, living in a simpler world. A world before all the pain, murder, and betrayal.

Yes, Alex had broken Marc’s heart when he refused to help
him deal with Shawn’s dead body- a murder Marc had committed in order to protect Alex.
But being here now, staring into Alex’s soulful eyes, it seemed as though all that had been
forgotten by Marc. Marc was staring at Alex with such loving eyes.

“I’m here now. Everything will be okay, I promise,” Marc
blurted as the anger seemed to melt from his eyes and was replaced with so much love.

“Wh… what are you doing here?” Alex asked, still in shock

that Marc was actually standing in front of him.

“I’m so sorry it took me so long to get here,” Marc
apologized, as he touched the side of Alex’s bloody face.

Alex noticed the look of pain in Marc’s eyes as he wiped the
blood from Alex’s face.

“Marc… I can’t believe you’re… how…” Alex was at a loss
for words. He could not believe that Marc was standing right in front of him. Coming to his
rescue once again. After all that he had done. But how did Marc know?

The lights in the barn suddenly went black.

About the Author

Matthew Dante is a Canadian
indie author who loves to write about magic, fantasy, and romance. He is an avid reader,
world traveller, lover of all things Marvel and DC, and a romantic at heart.

Most of his stories center
around gay main characters who are usually the love interests and the heroes of these
stories. He writes these novels, so that other LGBTQ people will be able to read about
characters and stories that they can relate to and be proud of.

Social Media Links

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

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Cosy & Chill

Author: Jackie
Keswick

Publisher: Jackie
Keswick

Cover Artist: Covers by
Jo

Release Date: November 10,
2021

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance with a Touch of
Magic

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

Themes: How to make dreams come true

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length: approx. 62 000
words

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

Goodreads

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

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

Romance with a Touch of
Fae

Blurb

What does it take to change your life?

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

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

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

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

Excerpt

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re staring. Stop it.

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

Annabelle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“May I?”

About the Author

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

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

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


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

Blog/Website
| Facebook group | Facebook page | Twitter

Instagram | Newsletter Sign-up | TikTok | Patreon

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

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Remember When

Author: BL Maxwell

Publisher and Cover Artist: BL
Maxwell

Release Date: November 11,
2021

Genre: Contemporary M/M
Romance

Tropes: Friends to lovers,
small town, holiday romance

Themes: Secret crush, secrets
revealed

Heat Rating: 2
flames

Length: 50 500
words

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

Goodreads

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US | Amazon UK

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

Blurb

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

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

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

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

Excerpt

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

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

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

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

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

“Good thoughts I hope.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

About the Author

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

Author Links

Smart Link | Facebook Page

Twitter | Instagram | Newsletter

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