Kindle Unlimited

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Universal Link | Amazon US | Amazon UK

Out of Nightmares can come Dreams

Blurb

Allesandro
My fury consumes me. Nobody is safe from it. I will bring my Emilio home. I will rebuild my empire. I’ll demolish anyone standing in my way.

Emilio
He thinks he has me beat. He thinks he’s in control. If there’s one thing Master taught me, I make my own destiny. I’ll claw my own way out and when I do they’d better prepare. Nobody has ever seen the likes of me.

What happens when vengeance and fury twist together?

Trigger warnings: Contains graphic violence, extreme sexual situations, and homophobic scenes. Please see inside for more warnings.

This is a continuous series. The first three books must be read prior to this one. Book 5 releasing early 2021.

Excerpt

Peter POV

I wake up from my nap gasping. The memory of Daniel dying is rushing through me as I push through the last remnants of sleep. I lie there for a moment, trying to reconcile everything. I’m not sure who to be the most pissed at. I knew he wasn’t happy, he said I shouldn’t have taken him out of the hospital. His urges were too much for him to handle, but damn, he could have talked to me. I bite my tongue hard enough to draw blood when I think of Eamon. Fucker put Daniel in that situation to take that bullet, hiding the knowledge that they were real, because if I’d known then, fuck no, I wouldn’t have allowed it. He never understood brotherly love, though. I shouldn’t have waited. I should have taken Eamon out first. But it’s too late for that.

Lio. Lio pulled the fucking trigger. A deep growl builds in my chest. I loved him. I gave him everything, and he repaid me by killing my brother. Daniel’s voice echoes in my brain about needing to keep calm, not to punish Lio for not being perfect, but damn it, Lio has always been perfect. It’s why he’s mine. It’s why I found him, took him, and did everything I could for him. I take deep breaths, trying to rein in the anger and the poisonous hate that wants to spread. Maybe I just need to push him more, make him earn his forgiveness. I’m not fucking sure at this point if that’s possible, but maybe it’ll work. Maybe I can recapture our love. Maybe…

I startle when I notice he’s not in bed with me. I’ve been so lost in my head. Memories of what I did earlier float in my mind, and I quickly move to look at the floor. I exhale forcefully when I see him. I feared for a split-second that he’d escaped, but he didn’t. It means he knows he needs to be punished, he needs it the same way I do.

He doesn’t raise his head even as I move. I know kneeling for so long must be hurting his knees, but I don’t give a shit. I reach out and grab his hair, forcefully bringing him up and onto the bed. The way he scrambles slowly to move tells me how stiff he is from holding the same position for so long. I violently push him on his back and straddle him, grabbing his throat with my hand and squeezing. He doesn’t fight back, although I wish he would. His face steadily changes color, and tears roll down his face, making a pathway through the dried cum, but still, he doesn’t fight. The most he does is tilt his head back to give me better access. I wrench my hand off his neck, letting him draw in huge gasps of air. I punch the pillow by his head, barely missing his face. That, at least, draws a reaction from him. The flinch and fear. I want his fear. I need it.

About the Author

Leigh is a dark M/M romance author from Texas with two needy terrors of terriers and a chaotic family. She considers coffee a major food group and her family fears broken coffeemakers. She writes in her spare time, forced to the keyboard by characters entirely too vocal in her opinion and often falls victim to plot monkeys. In between creating mayhem with her characters and friends, her hope is to transport readers to fictional places and provide darkness with a twist.

Author Links

Amazon page | Facebook Group | Facebook Page

Newsletter Sign-Up | BookBub | Goodreads

Giveaway

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

a$10 Amazon Gift Card

Follow the tour and check out the other blog posts and reviews here

RELEASE BLITZ: “Ship of Fools” by Sophia Soames.

Post author:Eric Huffbind
Post published:December 1, 2020
Post category:Gay Book Promotions Kindle Unlimited New Release
Post comments:0 Comments

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Ship of Fools

Author: Sophia Soames

Publisher: Self-published

Cover Artist: Aurelia Morris

Release Date: November 30, 2020

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance

Trope/s: Finding love, Family Christmas, instalove, Set in the UK

Themes: This story contains descriptions of sexual roleplay and consensual violence, and elements of mild BDSM.

Heat Rating: 5 flames

Length: 50 000 words

It is a standalone story.

Facebook Group: Sophia Soames’ Little Harbour | Twitter | Instagram

Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link | Amazon US | Amazon UK

Blurb

Andreas Mitchell is single, stupid and bored, and should have a good long think about the amount of bad life choices he has made lately. Instead he heads straight for the one guy he knows will become his worst mistake yet.

Luca Germano makes no choices at all, instead he lives quietly in the background, and prefers the safety of his own hand to risking his heart. And someone as pretty and fearless as Andreas Mitchell, is the last person on earth he should let into his life.

Especially at Christmas.

This is a work of fantasy and fiction. This story contains descriptions of sexual roleplay and consensual violence, and elements of mild BDSM, which are not intended to be taken seriously, or imitate real life. Please read with caution if these
themes might trigger or upset you.

Find more stories from the fictional British town of Chistleworth, in Custard and Kisses (free to download from Prolific Works) and This thing with Charlie (part of the Winter Wonderland giveaway starting on Jan 1, 2021)

Excerpt

I barely finish that thought, before my office door opens. He doesn’t even knock, Luca Germano, before entering and walking up to me with determination in his steps.

“We are ready to deliver. I was just wondering if you would like to come down and look her over before I go home.” He grunts.

He’s wearing skinny jeans today, and a torn knitted hoodie. A speck of oil still lingering on his hand, and a polishing rag stuck in his back pocket.

“I trust you.” I say, taking the glasses off my nose, and placing them on the table in front of me. “The crew downstairs speak very highly of you. Thank you for helping us deliver on this one. I’m sure the car will be much appreciated by its new owner.”

I’m talking a load of shite, in a voice that belongs to someone like Mr Lambert. I do that, sometimes, when I speak with older clients. Try to make myself more mature, more sophisticated, and less of the twinkly brat I really am.

“Ahm…” He grunts, again. He’s a man of few words, Luca Germano. He still scares me, because he’s unpredictable. I can’t read him, not really. Sometimes he comes across as happy and carefree, at other times he seems almost terrified of me.

“Let me guess…” I tease. “Tonight you are working out, then you are going to go and have a nice glass of water at Club Eden. Am I right?”

“What?” he huffs.

“Yeah? That’s what you do, most weekends.” I giggle. I’ve immediately lost the stupid fake maturity. It doesn’t take much. Told you, I’m an idiot, and clearly a fool, because now Luca Germano is blushing and squirming, and looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“Why would you say that?” He huffs out, suddenly back to being annoyed with me. Then he looks scared, breathing too heavily, running his greased hand through his cropped hair. He’s had it cut again. I bet it’s soft against his fingers.

I’m clearly losing my touch here, and I need a break. Luca Germano turned me down for a simple reason. He’s probably gay, because most people frequenting Club Eden, are… gay. Since it’s a gay club. Yet, I’m feeling less confident by the second here, sat behind my desk being… frankly, both rude and stupid with one of our freelance tech crew. Because I know what I am doing, I’m flirting, and why the hell I am flirting with him, of all people? I don’t understand myself anymore. Well, I do. He’s handsome, in a rugged way. A little bit scary, because the man clearly works out and is both tall, fit and muscular. The kind of man with big hands that would toss me around a bed with ease and completely dominate in the bedroom. He’s also staring at me like I have two heads.

Note to self, also the kind of man I should avoid, because I usually end up in a state like last weekend. Do I take any notice? No. Here I go again.

“You usually spend the evening stalking me around the club, and staring at me.” It’s a little bit of a lie, but I’m smiling and batting my eyelashes. I’m giving the guy a chance here. I wouldn’t mind a hookup with him. I would even let him do me, like a little good pick-me-up.

“Look, mate.” He says again, with surprising strength, as he walks up to my desk and leans his knuckles on the top. Leaning over me and staring at me with an intensity that scares me. I actually shuffle my chair an inch backwards, because… Yeah. Intense.

“Don’t mess around with me, I’m not into all that.” He’s serious too, enough for me to feel intimidated.

“Mate, it’s an invitation to fuck, not a bloody job interview.” I nip back, trying to blow my chest up like a bloody baboon. I’m not impressive, I realise that, as he smirks at me.

“Just leave it. Not interested.” He huffs. I just laugh, because as he stands back, he turns around far too quickly for a man not interested. He’s also sporting a semi in his jeans, unless he’s hung like a horse. He’s probably hung, but that bulge…?

“Look, Luke.” I try, but he cuts me off.

“Luca. Not Luke.”

“Luca, my bad.” I try a smile, but he doesn’t take the bait. Just stares, like he does. Maybe it’s just his thing, and perhaps I have read all this wrong from the start.

“I go to Eden for a drink at the weekend, because my best mate from school mans the bar. That’s why I go there. I hang out and shoot the shit with a guy who I have known since I was three. Is that clear?” He’s pissed off, and now he’s frightening me. Just a little. In a good way.

“Crystal.” I nip back.

“I’m not interested in being one of your fuckbuddies, okay? So leave it. I’m very happy to work for you, and you have a great team downstairs, so if you have a project you need me for? Ring me. If not? Then I hope you have a great Christmas… and all that.”

He’s lost his steam at the end, clearly not holding a planned-out speech. He would never make a salesman, because now he is twirling around in a circle again, almost tripping over his own feet as he walks out of my office, leaving the door wide open behind him.

I don’t go down and check out the car. I probably should, before the handover to the new owner this afternoon. I should probably be there to sign it off. Instead I lean back in my chair and let my eyes close. Just for a second to calm myself down.

What on earth am I doing? That? That display of complete and sheer unprofessionalism was … staggeringly stupid. I could lose my job. It could be seen as harassment, on a grand scale. I need to stop, whatever it is I think I am doing.

In any case, I need to go home, grow up and grow a bloody brain, because the one I have at the moment? It’s fried.

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-) glamorous real-life job.

Her long-suffering husband just laughs at her antics. Their children are feral. The Au Pair 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.

Find me on social media @sophiasoames on all platforms.

Aurelia Morris is a cover artist, photographer, photoshop wiz and eternal fangirl.

She works in many mediums under more aliases that she can keep track of.

Social Media Links

Giveaway

Free short story: Custard and Kisses on Prolific Works

Find Charlie’s story in This Thing with Charlie, set in the same universe

as part of the Winter Wonderland Giveaway on Prolific Works, coming Jan. 1, 2021

Join Sophia Soames’ Little Harbour Facebook group

for a chance to win a signed paperback of Ship of Fools.

Not on Facebook? To win a signed paperback copy of Ship of Fools, just enter here!

Follow the tour and check out the other blog posts and reviews here

BOOK BLAST: “Midas Touch” by Alex Hall. $25.00 Amazon Gift Card Giveaway Included!

Post author:Eric Huffbind
Post published:November 28, 2020
Post category:Gay Book Promotions Kindle Unlimited New Release
Post comments:0 Comments

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: Midas Touch: A Christmas Romance

Author: Alex Hall

Publisher: Madison Place Press

Cover Artist: Rebecca Slather

Release Date: November 9, 2020

Genre: F/F Romance

Themes/Tropes: Christmas, childhood friends to lovers

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length: 75 000 words/ 208 pages

It is a standalone book.

Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Blog/Website | Twitter: @sarahremywrites

Blurb

Gwen Cook has returned to Williamsburg, Virginia, after more than a decade away from her family estate. Frankie Porter has spent the last year renovating that same estate, turning the dilapidated Cook mansion into a showpiece. Gwen and Frankie shared a childhood full of hard secrets and ripe with first love. Now adults, their paths cross again and sparks fly.

A HEA with content warnings for PTSD and implied child abuse.

Excerpt

The boathouse had barely changed in twelve years. The creek ran quite a bit deeper and wider. Brown water had swallowed up much of the far bank and licked in pools about the base of the boathouse itself. Frankie had to shove back kudzu and sumac as she walked. The soles of her boots sank inches into mud. Tiny pink-and-white wildflowers grew up between the trees, and here and there she spotted a drooping hedge bright with red berries.

She made her way cautiously through the undergrowth until she could touch the old building. Standing against the foundation, she cocked her head and squinted up along brick walls. The boathouse seemed as sturdy as she remembered. Two stories high and crumbling on the outside, it was ruler straight and strong except for the roof, which still sagged but hadn’t given in to the elements and fallen.

“Used to be, they knew how to build to last.” Frankie patted the warm brick.

The structure didn’t tower the way it had in her childhood, but she supposed it wouldn’t. She had grown—her bones had lengthened into adulthood. She’d managed to top five feet, barely. At sixteen, she’d feared she would be stuck forever just above four.

Frankie hesitated, glancing up into the sky. The trees had grown tall, and she could see less of the sun than she remembered. The place was definitely cooler, definitely shadier; but on a warm summer afternoon, shade wasn’t such a bad thing.

She leaned against the boathouse and untied her boots. Stripping off her shoes and socks, she stood barefoot in the mud, regarding the brick walls. Twelve years gone and she was no longer a child. Could she do it?

Of course she could. Was it wise?

Probably not.

But her fingers and toes found the old cracks easily, and before she knew it, she was halfway up the wall. The brick brushed her khaki shorts, leaving brown stains. A branch streaked her white shirt with sap. Frankie didn’t notice. At the top she hoisted herself over the edge of the roof and onto the shingles. She sat very still, holding her breath, waiting to see if the roof would protest. The shingles held, even when she rose to her feet and tiptoed across the top of the boathouse to her old perch.

She looked up and around first, admiring the oak and the dogwood and the ash with their green-as-grass leaves. She sucked in the fragrance of the creek as she brushed her bangs from her eyes. Then she took a deeper breath and looked down.

James Creek glittered below, cut into geometric shapes by dim sunlight. Shadows gathered at the edges of the water and then spread away along the bank. From where she stood, the water looked deep and inviting.

About the Author

Sarah Remy/Alex Hall is a nonbinary, animal-loving, proud gamer Geek. Their work can be found in a variety of cool places, including HarperVoyager, EDGE and NineStar Press.

Author Links

Giveaway

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

a $25 Amazon Gift Card

Follow the tour and check out the other blog posts and reviews here

BLOG TOUR: “Handled” by Romilly King”

Post author:Eric Huffbind
Post published:November 25, 2020
Post category:Blog Tour Gay Book Promotions Kindle Unlimited
Post comments:0 Comments

BLOG TOUR

Book Title: Handled: A dark gay romance

Author: Romilly King

Publisher: Self-Published

Release Date: October 29, 2020

Genre: Dark M/M Romance

Themes: justice, retribution, and unsuitable love

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 175 pages

Trigger warning: violence, mentions of suicide, and torture.

It’s also a happy for now not a happy ever after

as there are two further books in the series.

Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Blurb

Serial killers think if it all goes south and they finally get caught that their swan song is a day in court, making the families relive the agony while they get off on that delicious pain, all over again.

Not happening. Not anymore. We’re not making celebrities out of monsters. We’re not giving them a stage to strut on.

Now they get an audience of two.

One to Handle the problem, one to Witness it.

I’m a Witness. I trained for six years to do my duty, to manage my contracted killer, and to watch justice be done.

I knew it would be hard, the first time, to watch the eye for an eye moment.

I expected to feel a lot of things – fear, disgust, guilt.

I didn’t expect to feel turned on.

And I didn’t expect my contracted killer to look quite so pretty with blood on his hands.

HANDLED is a dark gay romance with themes of justice, retribution, and unsuitable love. It is not for the faint of heart and contains graphic scenes intended for an adult audience.

Excerpt

Chapter One

Gray

I wake no less irritated than when I went to sleep. Frustration and arousal are rolling at a low level simmer in my brain and my body. I should have sought a release but I couldn’t make my mind up if I needed to hurt, or be hurt.

Normally I know exactly what I want.

Watching the kill turned me on, it always does, there was pain involved, and although I was fifteen feet away I could feel it, smell it, almost taste it as the wire of the garotte carved through the dirty skin of the neck.

It was the laziness of the killer that confused my arousal though. He was sloppy, his victim was random, there was no finesse anywhere, no evolution in technique, no learning or adapting.

The pain on the victims face had caused a jerk in my limbic system, my cock going half hard, my blood sluggishly stirring, but the lacklustre carry through from the killer snuffed my rising hormones.

I know I will be a lot harder when I kill him.

The pleasure will last a lot longer.

The best I can say about last night’s kill was that it was quick. Which was a blessing for the victim.

It was the second time I had seen this killer perform, and the previous operation had been no more inspiring than this one.

I roll out of bed, I have time for a shower before watching the congressional committee do their annual rehashing of old issues before failing to find a way out of their ethical conundrum.

It is essential viewing, it gives me insight into which way the wind is blowing on Capitol Hill with regard to my employment and more than that, my existence.

Chances are the wind will still be gusting in my direction. The public remains fascinated and frequently aroused by people like me, but reluctant to face the unpalatable truth that the human genome throws us up for a reason, and that reason is survival.

Apart from that it’s always amusing to watch the Director deliver this year’s version of his you can’t handle the truth monologue.

Under the warm water of the shower I feel again the urge to give into the sexual side of my issues but it’s not worth it. It won’t assuage the itch, and I still can’t decide, hurt me or hurt someone else.

Sometimes, when the disconnect is bad, I look down at my body and I am surprised, because it isn’t what I expect to see. I see smooth lean muscle and length when what I expect to see is skinny and short and dirty, with old blood on the backs of my legs, grime ground into too pale skin, and my ribs like a toast rack.

The curling arousal makes it worse. I need to kill or this vision of me becomes the more prevalent one, and that isn’t helpful, it takes the confidence away.

I don’t have bad memories per se, I just had my evolution forced, and so the real me, the me now, it sometimes regresses, and if I look in the mirror I see both of us, one standing inside the other. The grown Handler and the tortured child.

Once I get my new Witness and handle this killer it will be so much clearer, and then I can take my release with clarity and passion.

Rubbing my hair dry I walk naked into the bedroom and flick on the tv. The committee is coming to order, the Director adjusting his microphone smoothly on the desk in front of him – I honestly don’t know how he has the patience for this, but then we have different mentalities. His various assistants

are congregated behind him looking like a row of funeral directors, which is essentially what they are – all dark shiny graduates of the Witness program.

It would be nice if one of them was assigned to me, preferably one that I won’t want to kill within the first half hour, and then we can get the show back on the road and I can finally let the curling, aching need in me find its path to completion.

About the Author

Romilly is queer. Romilly wakes up every morning and decides which (witch) to be. Some days Romilly is an Imp, some days a Fairy, some days a Stoic, and some days a Gladiator. Romilly has a classical education, a filthy mouth and loves OTK spankings and strong Sirs who give love and punishment in equal measure.

Romilly is also very shy but makes every effort to engage with people from all walks of life and likes making friends and meeting fans on social media.

Author Links

Blog/Website | Twitter

Follow the tour and check out the other blog posts and reviews here

RELEASE BLITZ: “My Ticket Out” by J.N. Marton

Post author:Eric Huffbind
Post published:November 22, 2020
Post category:Gay Book Promotions Kindle Unlimited New Release
Post comments:0 Comments

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: My Ticket Out

Author: J.N. Marton

Cover Artist: 100Covers

Release Date: November 17, 2020

Genres: Contemporary F/F Romance, Coming-of-age

Tropes: Forbidden love(ish) and friends to lovers

Themes: Coming out, Embracing who you are

Heat Rating: 2-3 flames

Length: 260 pages

It is a standalone story.

Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

A senior basketball player. A mysterious new girl. A secret romance…

Blurb

Charlie Baker wants out. She wants out of her small, southern hometown of BluHaven and she has her sights set on a basketball scholarship to a college as far away as her dreams can take her. Everything is going according to plan until she moves to town.

Aspen Sullivan is breathtaking. She is beautiful, smart, talented…. She evokes feelings in Charlie that she hadn’t thought possible. When their friendship blossoms into something more, Charlie discovers a new truth about herself. But with Aspen’s mysterious past, they must keep their relationship a secret.

Will their love be strong enough to endure the trials of deceiving those closest to them? Do they have what it takes to escape the constraints of the south and the closet together?

My Ticket Out is a Young Adult, LGBT story about love, and self-discovery. If you enjoy stories that include romance, heartbreak, and embracing who you are, then you will definitely love this book by author J.N. Miller.

Pick this book up today to see if Charlie will find her ticket out.

Excerpt

Chapter 1

“We did not come this far to roll over like a bunch of pigs! Take the ball and put it in the damn basket!”

Falcons on three… one… two… three… FALCONS.”

Twelve seconds left on the clock.

One more shot.

One more play.

One last chance.

Twelve seconds is all the time we need.

Defense pounces the second the ball is inbounded like a leach latching itself to the only available life source.

The fast break is swift–over before it even started. One hard dribble towards the middle and the ball is launched to the center of the court.

Seven seconds left.

What comes next is second nature. A hard cut to the basket and back out to the wing, my hands raised in the air as I catch the ball before defense has time to adjust.

Four seconds left… Three seconds… the ball rolls off my fingertips.

Two seconds… it swirls around the rim.

One second… and falls to the ground.

The sound of the buzzer erupts through the gymnasium, solidifying our defeat. Final score thirty-six to thirty-seven.

I inhale the musty stench of sweat, perfume, and hairspray as we sulk into the locker room and take a seat while we wait for the aftermath that is Coach Stewart. I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees and focus on the sweat dripping from my forehead, plummeting to the ground, leaving a minuscule puddle between my shoes.

One shot.

That’s all we needed. And I blew it.

My main priority from the second this year started was getting a basketball scholarship out of this small town. From our very first game, it’s felt like my life has been dependent on one specific goal. A single accomplishment–like making the game winning shot–is going to make or break my future.

Coach Stewart charges through the door, letting it slam against the concrete wall as he steps in front of us. His gaze is intentional and cold, his demeanor full of discontent and indignation. His eyes trace over us, one by one, pausing just long enough for us to feel the misery set in.

He dips his head, slowly shaking it back and forth, before he holds up his index finger. “One shot. One damn shot. That’s all we needed to be undefeated this season.” He lifts his head, settling his hands on his hips. “We made mistakes tonight. And sometimes one mistake is the difference between winning and losing. The season’s not over yet. We’ll just have to practice a little harder to end it on a high. We’ve got a few games left, don’t give up now. Practice tomorrow after school. Bring it in.

Falcons on three… one… two… three… FALCONS.”

I shuffle to my locker, ignoring the hushed conversations happening around me, and begin gathering my stuff.

“That was a nice shot, Charlie,” Riley says as she pulls off her jersey, tossing it to the growing pile on the floor and retrieves her tshirt from the locker next to mine.

“Thanks,” I mutter, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” and sling my bag across my shoulders, heading for the door.

I get about three steps away from the locker room when I’m cut off by Ben. He’s wearing faded jeans, a red and black flannel over a plain white shirt, and boots with dried mud on the sides. The typical wardrobe of the boys that live around here. He’s taller than me by about three inches, with chocolate brown hair falling in his face, and forest green eyes that can’t seem to focus on what’s in front of him. “Hey, Charlie. Nice game.”

“Thanks,” I say, trying to brush past him.

He takes one long stride to the right, blocking my path. “I was thinking about checking out that new movie this weekend. Thought you might like to join me?”

“No thanks, I’m busy.”

He leans in closer, the smell of popcorn lingering on his breath, “C’mon, Charlie,” He whispers, “It’ll be fun. It wasn’t too long ago you jumped at the chance to go out with me.”

That’s not actually true. I only went out with him because Riley insisted and I finally agreed in order to get her off my back, not because I found him even remotely attractive. Of course, he doesn’t realize that, which isn’t all that surprising when I really think about it. We did the typical dinner and movie date but he couldn’t hold a conversation that didn’t revolve around him. Within the first twenty minutes of the movie, he’s shoving his tongue down my throat. I managed to wrangle him off before awkwardly sitting there trying to pretend I was somewhat interested in the film playing on screen. I haven’t gone out with him since.

“Ben, I need to get home. Can we talk about this some other time?”

“So,” he says, straightening up, his tone chipper as a smile plays around his mouth, “You’ll think about it?”

I stagger past him, picking up my pace as the EXIT sign beacons above the door, hoping my silence will answer his question.

I step outside, breathing in the bitter, frigid air of late February and make my way to my old grey Sedan. I pull out of the parking lot and head towards downtown. BluHaven is a small, southern town where the same families, shops, restaurants, and business have been here for generations. There’s a church on nearly every street corner, everything shuts down on Sundays, high school sports are the main source of entertainment, and everybody knows everything about everyone.

They say you have the freedom to be whoever you want to be, to express yourself in your own way. But if that goes against the belief system that’s been set in stone since before I was born, then don’t even bother. It’s not that I hate living here. It’s just that I never felt like I truly fit in, like my place has always been somewhere else in this world.

About the Author

J.N. Marton graduated from the University of Central Arkansas with a Bachelor’s degree in education. Along with educating the future of our nation, she enjoys taking her daily morning run, reading any book she can get her hands on, and binge watching the latest shows on Netflix. Marton happily lives with her wife, Hollis, and their Lab/Basset Hound mix, Sam.

Email her at jnmartonauthor@gmail.com and follow her on her favorite social media platform, Twitter @jn_marton.

Follow the tour and check out the other blog posts and reviews here

RELEASE BLITZ: “Naughty and Nice” by D.J. Jamison. $10.00 Amazon Gift Card Giveaway Included!

Post author:Eric Huffbind
Post published:November 21, 2020
Post category:Gay Book Promotions Kindle Unlimited New Release
Post comments:0 Comments

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Naughty & Nice

Author: DJ Jamison

Cover Artist: Cate Ashwood

Release Date: November 19, 2020

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance

Tropes: Ex-stepbrothers, snowed in, holidays

Themes: Christmas, family, making up for past mistakes

Length: approx. 60 000 words

Heat Rating: 4 flames

It is a standalone story.

Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Why can’t I forget your kiss…

Blurb

Why can’t I forget your kiss…

Dear Quinn,

Why must I have these feelings for you? You’re my ex-stepbrother, and nothing will change that truth, no matter how many letters I write.

I never expected to see you again–or to rescue you from the side of the road in a blizzard. I didn’t think you would ever like me, much less kiss me in a steaming hot tub on a snowy night. It seems we make better lovers than brothers, which is all kinds of naughty and nice while we’re snowed in together.

But can this new intimacy last when the skies clear and my family finally arrives for the holidays, or are we just two guys in a mountain cabin with a great view of everything we want but can’t have?

Hopelessly yours,

Jonas

Naughty & Nice is set in the same universe as Secret Admirer but stands alone.

Excerpt

“So, this is the hot tub,” I said, apropos of nothing.

“Yep,” he said, grinning. “Nothing gets by you.”

“I’m very observant that way,” I said, nodding seriously. I looked around as if taking in my surroundings, and when I got back to Jonas, I looked at him boldly, straight-on, my gaze skimming from his lips to his shoulders to his nipples, visible just above the water line.

He cleared his throat. “I’m starting to notice that.”

I wasn’t being subtle.

I’d angled for this to happen. To be in this hot tub with Jonas. I’d told him I wanted to soak away the cold in my bones, and that wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t entirely true either. I’d wanted to get closer to him. Wanted to feel another flash of the heat I was sure I’d seen in his eyes at dinner. Maybe it was an anomaly, and we’d have a soak and move on with our lives. Or maybe…

Maybe it’d combust, given the right circumstances.

To my frustration, Jonas’s phone chimed with a message. He looked away to pick it up. I watched as his lips quirked into a smile while he tapped out a response. He’d gotten a couple of these texts in the car too, tonight. It wasn’t like before, when he was avoiding messages. This was someone else.

“Who’s texting you?”

He glanced up, then irritatingly right back down to the phone. “No one important.”

I huffed. “They have a lot of your attention.” My stomach tightened. “Is it a hookup?”

Jonas didn’t answer immediately, and every second wound my insides a little bit tighter. If Jonas had someone in his life—or more than one, as his busy phone led me to believe—I wouldn’t be surprised. Why wouldn’t someone want him? He was effortlessly gorgeous; I’d seen him roll out of bed and ruffle his hair with his hand and look fabulous. That was it; his whole morning routine. And there I was in front of the mirror, trying to tame flyaway hairs and choosing my clothing with care. He was smart and self-reliant too. He didn’t bail on school or his future just because he was in a messy relationship. He dealt with life. Guys like him were never alone.

I edged closer, our legs brushing underwater. “Is it someone you’re serious about?”

“Nah, I don’t do serious.”

“Why not?”

His eyes met mine and held. “Tried it once. It didn’t suit me.”

I suspected he meant me, even though that didn’t make any sense. We’d never had a relationship. We’d had one brief kiss, and that was it. Surely he hadn’t been serious about his stepbrother with a bad attitude? I must be reading too much into that look…

“So, you’re texting with a non-serious hookup?”

He set the phone aside, lips quirking. “A potential hookup. Guy lives near here—”

I slapped my hand onto the surface of the water. “Oh, hell no!”

He laughed a little in disbelief. “What?”

Something came over me. All the tension that had stretched between us, all my restraint, snapped.

“No,” I repeated. “No hookups with other guys while you’re here.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Other guys?”

I was busted. He saw right through me, to the jealousy I had no right to have. I sucked in my bottom lip, tasting the faint tang of chlorine from the water droplets that had misted my face.

“Go on, Quinn. If you’ve got something to say about my sex life, I’m all ears.”

My face flushed hot. Words of apology were on the tip of my tongue. It wasn’t my place; it was none of my business.

Unless I made it my business.

Pulse speeding up, I turned toward him. “I’ve got nothing to say.”

“No? Because it seemed—”

I pushed forward in a rush, letting my mouth do the talking. Our lips pressed, clung. Jonas’s breath caught as I licked his bottom lip. Then, as if I’d hit fast-forward on a video, he was all in. His hand clamped around the back of my neck, pulling me hard against him as he deepened the kiss. My blood leapt with the thrill of lust and adrenaline as his tongue slid along mine, tasting and teasing. Jonas was a skilled kisser, advancing and retreating, giving me just enough to want more, then changing tactics to wind me up all over again.

The kiss went on forever. One kiss blended into the next. We sipped air as we repositioned our mouths, kissing one direction, then the other.

I was burning up in the steamy water, and yet I was shivering as cold winter air brushed over my neck and shoulders.

Jonas grabbed my hips, dragging me into his lap. I felt how hard he was, and ground down against him until he groaned satisfyingly against my mouth.

“Fuck, baby.”

“No.” I finally pulled back to look into his eyes. “I’m not baby, or honey, or any other thing you call your hookups. I’m Quinn.”

His voice was husky but soft as he responded. “Quinn.”

I shivered to hear my name in that sexy, velvet tone.

“You sure you want to do this with me?” he asked. “I know we’re not related by blood, but…”

Was I sure it was a good idea? No. But did I want it? Desperately.

“We’re not brothers.”

About the Author

DJ Jamison writes romances about everyday life and extraordinary love featuring a variety of queer characters, from gay to bisexual to asexual. DJ grew up in the Midwest in a working-class family, and those influences can be found in her writing through characters coping with real-life problems: money troubles, workplace drama, family conflicts and, of course, falling in love. DJ spent more than a decade in the newspaper industry before chasing her first dream to write fiction. She spent a lifetime reading before that and continues to avidly devour her fellow authors’ books each night. She lives in Kansas with her husband, two sons, one snake, and a sadistic cat named Birdie.

Social Media Links

Blog/Website | Facebook | Facebook Group | Twitter: @dj_jamison_

Instagram | Newsletter Sign-up | KoFi for bonus content | BookBub

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RELEASE BLITZ: “Love in Slow Motion” by E.M. Lindsey

Post author:Eric Huffbind
Post published:November 19, 2020
Post category:Gay Book Promotions Kindle Unlimited New Release
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RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Love In Slow Motion

Author: E.M. Lindsey

Publisher: E.M. Lindsey

Cover Artist: Amai Designs

Release Date: November 16, 2020

Genre/s: Contemporary M/M Romance

Trope/s: Age gap, dad’s best friend

Themes: Bisexual awakening

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 95 000 words

Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link | Amazon US | Amazon UK

Maybe it didn’t end there. Maybe it started with a kiss…

Blurb

The only thing Ilan Nadav knows about relationships and marriage is that they ruin people. He’s committed himself to the bachelor life, and he’s never been happier—until his best friend had to go and fall in the sort of toe-curling, sonnet-writing kind of love. Witnessing that created a hunger in Ilan, and now all he can see is the people standing near him who deserved better than they got. And one of those people makes his heart beat a little bit harder and a little bit faster—but he’s the last man in the world Ilan is allowed to want.

After all, Fredric Pedalino is his best friend’s dad.

When Fredric comes to him for advice about dating men, Ilan is forced to re-write his own reality—and maybe his stance on love, because Fredric is the sort of man with the ability to sweep him off his feet. Even when he isn’t trying.

Ilan wants Fredric more than he’s ever wanted anyone before, but he’s not sure he’s willing to take the risk. After all, loving that man might cost him everything.

Excerpt

“I was on a date when you called me. My first real date maybe ever. You know, the kind that didn’t mean a quick hook-up on my couch before I sent him packing.” Ilan let out a huffing breath, and his fingers stroked absently over Fredric’s knuckles, sending sparks shooting up his arm. “I saw your name and I knew if I answered that call, that would be it. It would be over.”

“And you did answer,” Fredric said softly.

“Yes,” Ilan breathed out, “I did. I did, knowing what I was getting into—but I also did it thinking it was safe because there was no way you wanted… me.”

Fredric’s stomach twisted and his heart thrashed. He hated how hard this was, how complicated, how much fear ruled the moments between them. But like Teddy said to him, it would be worth the effort. “Except I do.”

“And I don’t know how to tell you no,” but before Fredric could lean in and close the distance between them, Ilan went on. “And I don’t know how to say yes.”

Fredric nodded, deflating a little, but not pulling away. “Then have dinner with me. And a little more wine. And that cake you brought.”

Ilan was silent a long while. “And then?”

“And then we take Bas for a walk. You can tell me what the winter sky looks like here at night. I’ve never asked before.”

Ilan’s fingers twitched, and his voice was thick. “I can do that.” He paused again. “And then?”

“And then, we do it again—something else,” Fredric said. He shifted closer, until their knees touched, and Ilan pressed back against him. They started to tangle in places, more than their hands, and it felt right. And as much as he was still nervous, he felt safe. “We see movies, and we eat dinner. We take a tango lesson at the community center. We find a wine and paint night and you can help me paint a cactus.”

Ilan laughed. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Fredric said. “I just need to know that it starts here.”

“Just a chance,” Ilan breathed out, like he was making the promise to himself, not Fredric. “And if…if I can’t,” he said, then stopped. “If whatever inside me has been so wrong for all these years stays wrong, and you need something more…”

He couldn’t imagine a world in which that would be possible, but he owed Ilan at least one promise tonight, and he could make it that one. Tugging their joined hands toward him, he pressed the warm knuckles to his lips and let them linger for a long, long moment. “We will never be broken.”

Ilan’s breath was softer this time, but still trembling—just like his hands. But instead of pulling away, instead of letting whatever he was feeling get the best of him, he didn’t let go.

About the Author

E.M. Lindsey is currently living in the United States. They spend their time writing, reading, hiking, and binging Netflix – in that order. Find their work exclusively on Amazon.

Social Media Links

Blog/Website | Facebook | Newsletter Sign-up | BookBub

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BLOG TOUR: “Gingerbread Mistletoe” by Amy Aislin. A signed paperback giveaway included! See entry link below:

Post author:Eric Huffbind
Post published:November 18, 2020
Post category:Blog Tour Gay Book Promotions Kindle Unlimited
Post comments:0 Comments

BLOG TOUR

Book Title: Gingerbread Mistletoe

Author: Amy Aislin

Publisher: Self-published

Cover Artist: Natasha Snow

Series: Lighthouse Bay #2

Genre/s: Contemporary m/m holiday romance

Trope/s: Enemies to lovers, small town, forced proximity

Heat Rating: 2 flames

Length: 62,000 words

It’s book two in the Lighthouse Bay series, but can be read as a standalone.

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Universal Amazon Link | Amazon US | Amazon UK

Blurb

The last thing Jeff wants is to spend time with the man who totaled his car—the one he spent years restoring with his late father. But if he wants to resurrect his childhood town’s annual outdoor hockey tournament, he’s got no choice.

The last thing Mika wants is to work with the guy who took off right after the accident, without ensuring he was okay. And working together on organizing Jeff’s proposed tournament sounds like a complete nightmare. He’s got enough on his plate after surviving cancer.

Sparks fly as they’re forced to work together, but is that enough for them to set their differences aside and pull off the tournament in only two weeks? Or will they prove to be immune to the magic of Christmas?

Excerpt

Standing, he held a hand out to the man who was so much his type it was almost laughable. Three or four inches taller than Mika’s own five-ten height, dark brown hair that shone red under the warehouse’s lights, like the deepest shade of mahogany, with charcoal-gray at the temples and above his ears, and lines that fanned out from narrow eyes a dark shade of blue. A high forehead in a heart-shaped face and the physique of a footballer completed the package.

All of that wouldn’t have been a big deal on its own, but the way he held himself with the cool confidence of someone who knew his place in the world?

Yowza. Talk about Mika’s type wrapped in a black wool coat and a stubbled jaw more gray than brown. He’d have been giving Jeff his number if the guy wasn’t scowling at him.

Wait, that scowl . . .

Jeff stared at his outstretched hand. “No.”

“Uh.” Rearing back, Mika dropped his arm back to his side. “Excuse me?”

Zach crept up behind him, gaze swinging from Mika to Jeff. “What’s wrong?”

Jeff waved a hand at Mika. “This is the guy you want me to work with?” He put special emphasis on this, as though Mika were a criminal who’d steal his wallet when he wasn’t looking. Straightening his spine, Mika planted his hands on his hips.

Zach blinked once. “Yes?”

Holland Stone—Zach’s boyfriend and Mika’s ex—approached from where he’d been working on his float for the parade, clad in a dusty T-shirt and even dustier jeans. He squinted at Jeff before turning to Zach and Mika. “You two okay?” He held a hammer in one hand like he meant to wield it. Not that he ever would, but the image would’ve made Mika chuckle had he not been so confused.

And frankly? Kind of hurt. What the hell had he ever done to this guy?

“I can’t work with him.” There was no give in Jeff’s tone.

“Why not?” Zach stepped in close to Mika, butting in against his left side. “Mika’s the best.”

Aw. The ire in Mika’s chest faded a little at Zach’s words. It was nice of him to say, especially since Mika had made the worst of first impressions on him last Christmas.

The amount of disgust in Jeff’s scoff would’ve been impressive had it not been directed at Mika. “I’m not working with the guy who totaled my dad’s car.”

Mika’s head jerked back. “What?”

Zach and Holland swung their gazes his way.

“I didn’t!” Taking a step back, he raised both hands. “I’ve never totaled anybody’s car in my life.”

“Oh no?” Jeff argued, raising both eyebrows, and god, the sarcasm. “Not even a turquoise 1956 Chevy Nomad near the Bluffs in Pacific Palisades? About this time last year? Ring any bells?”

That was where Mika knew this guy from! Jesus, he was still holding a grudge? “Okay, first of all, I apologized, like, seven times. Second, I gave you my number. It’s not my problem that you didn’t call. Like I said—I would’ve paid to get it fixed. And third.” Leaning over the desk, he narrowed his eyes on a squinty-eyed Jeff Bellmoor. “Totaled?”

Jeff winced. “Fine. That’s maybe the wrong word.” Uttered so begrudgingly, it was a miracle he managed to say the words at all. “But like I said—it’s not about the damage.”

A huff of exasperation escaped Mika and he threw his hands up. “I don’t know what that means.” He hadn’t known then either.

“Never mind.” Rubbing his forehead, Jeff turned away. “You wouldn’t understand.”

About the Author

Amy’s lived with her head in the clouds since she first picked up a book as a child, and being fluent in two languages means she’s read a lot of books! She first picked up a pen on a rainy day in fourth grade when her class had to stay inside for recess. Tales of treasure hunts with her classmates eventually morphed into love stories between men, and she’s been writing ever since. She writes evenings and weekends—or whenever she isn’t at her full-time day job saving the planet at Canada’s largest environmental non-profit.

An unapologetic introvert, Amy reads too much and socializes too little, with no regrets. She loves connecting with readers. Join her Facebook Group, Amy Aislin’s Readers, to stay up-to-date on upcoming releases and for access to early teasers, find her on Instagram and Twitter, or sign up for her infrequent newsletter.

Author Links

Website | Facebook group | Facebook page | Facebook

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a signed paperback of Gingerbread Mistletoe

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