NEW RELEASE: “Always Theirs” by J. P. James

Blurb:

My new bodyguards will protect me from my stalker, but who will save me from a broken heart?

Fyre:

I’ve been a teen pop idol since I was fifteen, and being famous has pros and cons. A pro? The adulation from my fans. A con? The adulation from my fans. I’m being stalked, and my manager insists that I hire protection: Jameson and Jordan Jones, two brawny FDNY firefighters who moonlight as bodyguards. 

The problem is that Jamie and Jordy are so magnetic that I can’t focus on my songwriting. I thought all I wanted to do was to live free and make music, but suddenly I’m not so sure when love is on the line. Throw in the fact that my stalker turns out to be a queer teen, and I don’t know what to do anymore. Jamie, Jordy and I support LGBTQ+ rights, but what do we do when our stalker is actually one of us? How do we fight back without undermining the cause?

Jordan:

My brother and I took a security gig to make a little cash on the side. We thought Fyre Connell would be an entitled brat, but the man is vulnerable, sensitive, and longing for something more. He’s been famous for so long, and living his life on social media is wearing him thin. But when we catch a queer teen making trouble, it throws our relationship into a spiral. Will Fyre punish the boy for jeopardizing his career? Or is there another solution that satisfies our need for justice, without undermining our commitment to the cause? Even more, how do we move forward as three men who are passionate for one another without setting off alarms the world over, while also respecting our true selves?

**Always Theirs is a full-length MMM novel with a HFN/HEA and no cliffhangers.** 

 

Exclusive Excerpt:

“There are two people I want you to meet first, though,” my agent says.

My ears tick up.  “Who?” I ask, but Damon doesn’t say
anything.  Instead, he leads me behind the curtains.

I can tell there are two huge guys standing near the curtains.  I can barely
make them out, but they’re tall and strong.  I can feel their power. 
They’re dressed in dark clothes, covered from wrist to ankle in black.  It
helps them blend even more into the curtains around us.  The only thing
that sets them apart is the heat from their bodies.  I didn’t know I could
feel strength, but it radiates from them like rays of sunlight.  It’s
stunning.

“Follow us,” Damon instructs them.

He pulls me by the small of my back.  Together we all descend the stairs,
Damon leading us, and the other two following in tow.  I don’t know these
guys, but I feel warm and  … safe.

Damon stops a few feet past the bottom of the stairs, and gently, he encourages me to turn around.  I don’t know why, but for a split second, I hesitate. 
I threw myself into this performance to distract myself from last night, and
now my lungs feel heavy.  I desperately catch my breath, but I realize the
second I turn around that the show isn’t the only thing that’s stolen my
breath.

Coming face to face with these guys is like attempting to stare into the sun. 
It’s beautiful and impressive, and I’m not sure I can look much longer.

I’m thankful that I’m sweating and red from the night.  I’m the only one who
feels my cheeks flush. 

“Fyre, I’d like you to meet Jordan and Jameson Jones,” says Damon.

“Jordan,” I repeat in my mind … until my ears register the names out loud.  I gulp, feeling my cheeks flush harder.

“Yes,” Jordan says.  He gazes back at me.  His chest heaves up and down, and
I let my eyes drop to his impressive torso.

“And Jameson,” I say, as my eyes move to the other brother.

Jameson’s expression is softer, but no less inspired.  He looks back at me tenderly, like I’m something special.

It’s one thing for Damon to say I’m special.  I’m used to it, maybe too used to
it.  It’s quite another thing, to see it confirmed in a beautiful
stranger’s eyes.

“It’s, uh, nice to meet you,” I stammer, “Both of you. Jordan and Jameson.”

I stand there, speechless after my blubbering, but my eyes rake over both
men.  They may be dressed in suits, but my mind runs wild as I imagine the
rippling muscles and hard abs underneath.  My eyes struggle to take in as
many details as possible.  They have sharp jawlines, minimal stubble,
piercing blue eyes, raven hair, and lightly tanned skin.  They’re tall,
and athletic.  They look tough, but it doesn’t push me away.  No way
in hell could I stay away now.  I feel like an astronaut pulled into their
gravity.  Who are these guys, and why do I feel the urgent need to know
everything about them?

“Jordan and Jameson will be your bodyguards for the rest of the tour.”  Damon’s words penetrate the cloud I’m floating on and bring me back to reality. 
The venue.  The show.  Baltimore.  Still, did Damon just say what I think he said?

“Bodyguards?” I wonder out loud.

Damon clears his throat. “They know about what happened last night.  They were working at the Kimpton at a different event.”

“They know about Percy?” I whisper, but not nearly as quiet as I thought.

“Damon briefed us on Percy Ellis, correct,” comes Jordan’s voice, calm and
authoritative. 
“They’ll be following me?” I ask Damon again, only this time I hold my gaze on the brothers.

Their gazes shift, looking at each other, then Damon, and back to me.  Their
shoulders tense.  It looks like they aren’t breathing as easily.  Did
I say something wrong?  They’re watching me just as intently, sending
shivers up and down my back, but now I see worry behind their eyes.

“We won’t make you uncomfortable, Fyre,” Jordan vows.  “This is for your
protection.”

“We’ll stay out of your way as much as possible,” Jameson adds.

I gulp.  The problem is that I don’t want the handsome bodyguards to stay
out of my way.  I want them in my room, in my body, and in my life in
every way possible.

 

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New Release: “Chasing Fate” by J. P. James

Blurb:

Chasing Fate by J.P. James

Chris:

I’ve always wanted to be a writer covering LGBTQ+ affairs. As a member of the queer community, our issues don’t get enough press and I see it as my job to shine a light on the many amazing things we’ve achieved. To help me out, my dad sets me up with an internship at his best friend’s company, which is a place that puts out a weekly newsmagazine. It’s perfect because I can use this opportunity to write about gay-centric issues to my heart’s content. But the problem is that the boss doesn’t necessarily see it that way. Dane, my dad’s friend, is handsome, forbidding, and dare I say it? A little scary. He’s used to giving orders, taking risks, and making money hand over fist. Despite being gay himself, he doesn’t want me to use his paper as a platform for our community because he says quote-unquote: “It won’t sell.” Since when has everything become about money? Have we, as a society, lost our moral compass? Even more important, how can I change his mind? On the one hand, sparks fly whenever Dane and I clash. But on the other, can I really be with a man who won’t stand up for the cause closest to my heart?

Dane:

I took on Chris as an intern as a favor to my oldest friend. After Nick begged, cajoled, and pleaded, I agreed on a three-month summer internship for his son. With an emphasis on temporary. Chris and I weren’t even supposed to cross paths because as the boss, I don’t really interact with newbie reporters. Yet the moment he walked into my office, I knew that Chris was going to be trouble. The young man is lively, forceful, and hell-bent on writing stories that highlight the achievements of the gay community. Of course I support him, at least on some level. After all, I’m a member of the LGBTQ+ community myself, and proud of the discrimination we’ve overcome, not to mention the acceptance we’ve achieved. As a result, I have nothing against his ideas per se, except that they won’t sell very many papers. Does that make sense? As a player in capitalist society, we have to market our wares in order to survive. But why can’t Chris understand my point of view? Sure, everyone knows that the publishing industry is in jeopardy and facing a sea change in terms of how we do business. But how can I make the young man see this? How can I help him understand that the world is more complicated than it appears, and that sometimes, we work for many masters and wear many hats simultaneously? Most importantly, how can I convince Chris that I’m worthy of his love when his commitment to LGBTQ causes may outweigh his affection for me?


***This is a full-length MM novel with no cliffhangers and a happily ever after.***
  

 

Exclusive Excerpt:

 

After we check into our hotel and drop our bags off, Dane and I stroll hand-in-hand down the main streets.  We take in the sights, window shop, people watch, and soak in the perfect summer weather.  It’s a sunny Saturday afternoon but not too humid today.  Everything looks straight out of a postcard.  We see kids in khaki shorts and Sperry deck shoes riding beach cruisers, eating ice cream, and laughing so loud they leave our ears ringing.  We pass a coffee shop and I practically drag Dane inside, even though I had two espressos before we left this morning.

As we’re sipping our drinks, I take the opportunity to mention some LGBTQ issues that could potentially be included in Globix publications.  There’s one about how fundraising for LGBTQ issues is particularly challenging given the current political climate, and another one pertaining to an upcoming Supreme Court case.

“What do you think?” I ask casually, my heart beating with anticipation.  Hopefully Dane likes the ideas and assigns me to report these stories.

He’s noncommittal, merely squeezing my hand and looking off into the distance.

“It’s a beautiful view,” he says in a low voice.  “I love this part of the Northeast.”

I shoot him an even look.

“No seriously, Dane.  You know these issues are important to our community.  What do you think of the fundraising article?  Or the Supreme Court case?  Front page stuff, right?”

This time, he turns to look at me and sighs deeply.

“Chris, what did I tell you about the Supreme Court?”

“Nothing,” I answer stoutly.  “Why?”

Dane muses a bit for a moment.

“You’re right.  I never did mention how I feel about those stories, and how they play out for our business.  Well, I’m not going to hold back because I think you need to hear it, sweetheart:  stories like that, as compelling as they are, don’t speak to our readers.  Our readership likes mainstream stuff, even if it pains me to say it.”

I wrinkle my nose.

“What are you talking about?  This is mainstream.  We are mainstream.  That’s what we’re trying to do!”

Dane sighs again.

“No, Chris, we’re not mainstream yet.  A small, yet significant proportion of the population identifies as queer in some way, but we’re not there quite yet.  And because we’re not there, it means that most of the people buying our papers are straight.  They want to hear about issues that pertain to them, or they want to hear about fun human interest tidbits.  They don’t want to hear about cut and dried Supreme Court decisions, and they definitely don’t want to hear about fundraising.  It’s not going to sell papers.”

I stop and stare at him.

“But we have to feature these articles because we want to become mainstream.  Only by including these stories will we make a dent in the overall American consciousness.  Don’t you want to do that?  Isn’t that a worthy goal?”

Dane sighs again and his shoulders slump a bit.

“Of course I do, but there’s this thing called revenue, and also Globix’s board.  I answer to them, and if we don’t deliver good figures, you know what happens?  I’m out of there, and so are you, frankly.”

I’m stunned.  How can this be?  I can’t believe that Dane would nix an idea because LGBTQ issues aren’t what our readers want to read about.  Sadly, it makes a sick sort of sense and I turn to him with a horrified expression.

“When’s the last time we featured an LGBTQ-centric article?” I ask in a quavery voice.

The publisher merely looks down.

“It’s probably been two months,” he says in a low voice.  “And that’s if you don’t count how Charlize Theron is raising her oldest child as a transgender girl.”

My heart pounds painfully in my chest.  Oh my god, I had no idea.  Or I did, but I had no idea it was this bad.  I seize his hand.

“Well, we can feature more,” I say in a rush.  “There’s plenty of space in a couple of the newsmagazines, and I’m sure I can get two or three articles ready in no time –”

Dane cuts me off.

“No Chris,” he says in a low voice.  “That’s not going to help.  The long and the short of it is that sometimes, we have to wait for the world to be ready for us, and right now?  It’s ready, but not that ready.  We can’t force a slew of LGBTQ pieces down readers’ throats because they’ll never buy our stuff then.  A small trickle of gay-friendly stories is okay, but we can’t make them drink from a fire hose.”

I stand frozen in place.  This is so difficult to swallow, but I make myself nod.

“Yes of course you’re right,” I say, still trying to catch my breath.  “Revenue matters.  Keeping readers engaged matters.”

And the thing is, I actually believe these things, but the revelation is still devastating.  What’s more important?  Money or the cause close to my heart?  I swallow and take Dane’s hand again, and we begin to walk once more.

It’s moments like these when I feel like I’m in over my head.  Dane knows so much about the practical realities of business, whereas I know so little.  But am I willing to let go of what I love in order to succumb to the gods of money?  Or will the realities of capitalism pull me apart from this man whom I adore?

 

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New Release: “A Body in the Bath House” by Brad Shreve

 

Author

I’d like to introduce a new author, Brad Shreve, an LGBT Fiction Author. Although, I typically feature Gay Romance novels, his book, “A Body in the Bathhouse” is of crime and mystery, which I am a huge fan of, featuring gay characters and theming. Mystery and Gay combined! I’m onboard and I had to feature his book.

Blurb:

This is a private investigator whodunnit mystery novel.

On the verge of bankruptcy private investigator Mitch O’Reilly takes any gig that comes his way while running his Eye Spy Supply shop in a forgotten Los Angeles strip mall. After two tours in Afghanistan, Mitch’s life amounts to running his store, coping with his fun-loving sister, Josie, and scoring with anonymous men he meets online. That changes when he gets a break. A beloved comedy scriptwriter is murdered at a bathhouse, and Mitch is hired to prove the innocence of the club custodian. Adapting from a two-bit gumshoe to a high-profile sleuth proves more challenging than he expected.

As if Mitch didn’t have enough to deal with, playful bathhouse operator Trent Nakos enters his life. After a heartbreaking past, the manager is the definition of a man the brooding P.I. actively avoids.

Following leads from sprawling mansions to sketchy hoods is demanding but becomes more troublesome when deadly threats jeopardize the biggest opportunity of his career.

This is a mystery novel.
While there is an element of romance it is definitely of the slow burn variety.

Amazon Link:  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07N7MFV8V

Website: https://bradshreve.com

Facebook Group:  https://www.facebook.com/groups/bradshreve/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/bradshreveauthor/

Excerpt:

Chapter One

“This case will be good for both of us,” Eve said. “If we get my client off, we look
like heroes. If we don’t, he’s just another Mexican in prison who’ll be
forgotten.”

“You’re one cold-hearted bitch.”

“Just honest, Mitch.”

Attorney Eve Aiken and I had worked together twice before. Once, I took pictures of a drug-abusing father in a custody battle. The second case involved a Pomeranian and suspicious bite marks.

“He’s probably an illegal. That’ll make it harder for us.” She pulled her gray suit jacket off, revealing a low-cut, black shell top. The skin above her breasts and down her arms was rough, wrinkled, and splotchy, making her look far beyond her fifty years. “I’ll give you the quick and dirty.”

I cocked my head and smirked. “Quick and dirty is the way I like it.”

She glared. “You probably know about the murder at that gay bathhouse yesterday.”

“It may surprise you to know there is no gay underground to disseminate information.”

“Don’t you watch the news?”

Before I could answer, a bell on the main door handle jingled. I rolled my desk chair to see the front of my store, Eye Spy Supplies. My twin sister, Josie, was showing up for work an hour late.

My desk, tucked in the corner of the cramped storeroom, is one of those heavy-as-hell, gray metal types the government used for decades after World War II. I placed my arm back on it, bumping a pile of paperwork to the floor where it mingled with more papers sorted in no particular order.

Eve scowled as she combed my shabby storeroom office with its dimmed fluorescent lighting and dark wood paneling. Stacked boxes slanted, ready to fall at any moment. A stool next to the desk barely balanced a mountain of bills on top, all stamped “past due.” I casually took a book off my desk and placed it on the pile. I had opened the store to be my own boss and get out of detective work. My plan was failing miserably. I still didn’t make enough from the store to stop being a private investigator, and I didn’t make enough as an investigator to close the store.

“You were saying?” I urged Eve on.

“A man was killed yesterday morning at the Club Silver Lake bathhouse,” she said. “Familiar with it?”

Familiar? It had been almost five years since I’d been inside, but I would never shake the lure of sheer self-indulgence that consumed my life after I left the army.

“I’ve heard of it. What happened?”

“A man by the name of Victor Verboom had his throat slashed while in a steam room. They have a suspect in custody—Ernesto Torres, a jilted lover who swears he didn’t do it. I’m defending him. That’s why I need your help.”

“Given your feelings towards ‘the gays,’ it’s surprising you took the case.”

“I work with you, don’t I? Anyway, it doesn’t matter which way the wind blows, as long as the cash is green.” She slid forward on my turquoise thrift-store couch and leaned toward me.

“They found Verboom’s body at 3:00 a.m. Apparently, he has a huge house in the hills, but he was known to sleep at the bathhouse several nights a week. Can you imagine

I could but didn’t say so. “What’s his story?”

“He was a staff writer for some TV comedy I don’t watch. It’s in the file.” She opened a manila folder that was in her lap. “Let’s see, it’s a show called Don’t
do That!
You ever see it?”

“I don’t watch much TV, but I can’t imagine you watching sitcoms. Is it even possible for you to crack a smile?”

Eve’s lips turned down, and she furrowed her brow. In an attempt to lean back, she forgot she was seated too far forward, which caused her to slump on the couch flailing her raised hands. Grunting and clearly embarrassed, she scooched up in her seat and straightened her gray, stained skirt. I was forced to grit my teeth and look away to maintain self-control.

She brushed aside a strand of her thin, black hair and crossed her arms. “Do you want this job, O’Reilly?”

“I’ll quit with the witty banter.”

“Witty? Don’t flatter yourself.”

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New Release: “Always Ours” by J.P. James (The Always Series Book 5). NOW ON SALE: Just $0.99

When two men just aren't enough. . .

Blurb:

Chance:

I didn’t know what danger was until I was assaulted one night. It was a hate crime against the LGBTQ+ community, but fortunately, two cops stepped out from the shadows and wrestled my attacker to the ground. My breath caught upon seeing them because Mason and Logan are everything I’ve ever wanted: brawny, handsome, and heroic. But something tells me there’s more to these men than meets the eye.

Logan:

We shouldn’t have taken what the young man offered. But when he knocked on our door, my twin and I gave into our deepest desires. We’re twins who share, and Chance said he wanted to feel alive again after his close brush with death. As a result, we stepped up and made it a skin-to-skin game. 

But now, the relationship has gone off the rails. Chance wants more – not just our bodies, but also our hearts, minds, and souls. The problem? We’re not ready for this. We’re cops, and while the force has an unofficial “Don’t ask, Don’t tell” policy, it’s difficult to keep our innermost desires secret. But Chance wants more. He’s not satisfied with being kept in the closet. He wants to be part of our lives, out in the open and proud. Can we do this for him? Will we, when our lives and careers are at stake? 

**Always Ours is a full-length MMM novel with a HFN/HEA and no cliffhangers.** 

Exclusive Excerpt:

“Walk me home?” I ask the twins shyly.

I have to fight past my nerves if I want them to take me seriously.  Hell, I need to do this if I’m going to take myself seriously.

Logan and Mason share glances and then nod.  I know these guys are big and strong, but I can’t help going mushy whenever they look at each other.  I might not ever be able to understand their twin language, but it’s a privilege to witness.

I don’t want to be alone, so I’m grateful when they agree to take me home.  I live in a tiny apartment on the top floor of a five-story building.  Of course, there are plenty of stairs and the three of us smile as we ascend.

“Police Academy training has nothing on this walk-up,” Logan chuckles as we hit the fourth floor.

“I’m used to it,” I explain with a spring in my step.

“I can tell,” Mason husks.

I feel the firm, sure touch of his hand at my ass as we ascend the stairs.  I laugh but don’t bother batting his hand away.  I love that he appreciates my body.  I don’t exercise much, but I have to scale one hundred and thirty-two steps at least once a day.  My lower body is made of steel, and if these guys want to admire it, I’m not going to stop them.  If anything, it gives me a confidence boost.

Without thinking, I let out a low purr.  It’s quiet in the staircase, and I know I can’t it play off like an actual cat escaped a neighbor’s apartment.

I turn around to face them, and find their hungry eyes feasting on my body.  I watch the rise and fall of their chests as they try to calm their breathing, but my little outburst unleashed more of their animalistic grit.  I consider it a privilege that I can do this to them.

Everything about these guys feels like a privilege, if I’m being honest, and I don’t want to deny myself the pleasure either.  My body screams for Logan and Mason, as if I belong to them already.  Doctor Marty says I should focus on the things I have control over, and I’ve been thinking about that a lot.  I’m tired of feeling overwhelmed and helpless.  I want to chase the things that inspire and empower me, and never look back.

Right now, what empowers me is having my buff saviors by my side.  Logan and Mason treat me right.  When I feel anxious, I remember their sure, comforting touches and their gentle, kind words.  It warms me, and calms the ache in my heart.

It’s what I need to feel and hear tonight. 

I think this does more healing for me than any therapy.  I know Doctor Marty is a professional, but these guys mend my body and soul more than they know.

“My apartment is at the end of the hall,” I explain as I push the door open to the fifth floor.  “Would you like to come in for a bit?”

They nod and pick up the pace behind me.  I notice their eyes shift around as we cross towards my front door.  In fact, I think they’ve been watching for lurkers and creeps the entire walk home.  Maybe it’s their training that makes them act this way, but I like to think there’s something special about this level of security.  Something reserved only for me.  Dare to dream, I guess.

“This is nice,” Mason says, stepping into my apartment with Logan on his heels.  I shut the door behind them, feeling my heart start to quicken.

“It’s tiny,” I tell them, but Logan shakes off my remark.

“It might be tiny but it’s clean.  If you weren’t pursuing interior design, now would be the time we tried to convince you to,” he says with an affirming smile.  “Your décor is amazing.”

Yum.  Every word out of their mouths gives me strength.

I gesture for them to sit at the leather couch in the living room.

“My Aunt Darcy bought this sofa and also my bed.  They’re the only nice things I own because everything else is Ikea, until I get a real job at least,” I joke.

“It’s beautiful,” says Mason as he grips the leather cushion beneath him.

“And there’s nothing wrong with Ikea,” Logan adds.  “It has its uses.”

I pull a cushion from the closet and set it on the ground in front of them.

“Hey, don’t sit there,” Mason starts, but my hand flies up to stop him.

“Believe me, I like sitting on the ground.  Plus, this way I can admire both of you at the same time,” I tell them.  I can feel the blush on my cheeks but I fight through it.

“Thank you,” Logan chuckles.  “You’re really sweet.”  Mason smiles too.

“I wanted to tell you something,” I say as I look between their beautiful blue eyes.  I take my seat on the cushion, and push my knees up to my chest as I cradle myself for comfort.

“Yes?” the twins ask.  I take a deep breath.

“Well, I started going to therapy because you know the city pays for it after an attack like the one I had.  I had my first session the other day, and I have another appointment next week.  Until I can get my anxiety under control.”

Their eyes are a complex mix of affection and sadness, the blue going from light to dark, and then back again.  They’re happy that I’m seeking treatment, but it’s another reminder of how we know one another, and how we got to this place.  The good with the bad, I suppose.

“We’re proud of you,” Mason promises, looking directly into my eyes.  “It’s important to take your mental health seriously.”

Logan nods all the same.  “Exactly.  You’re brave, but we already knew that.  This is to help you recover even more.”

The blush hasn’t left my face.  If anything, I feel warmer and definitely want to take my shirt off, anything to get some cold air on my skin.

“There’s something we want to ask you too,” Logan says in the next moment.

I look between them, but their expressions are unreadable.  “Sure, ask away.”

“The trial for your attacker is in a few days.  I was thinking about testifying, if that’s alright with you,” Logan confesses.

My chest tightens, but the twins have their hands on me before I freak out.

“We don’t want to stress you out,” Mason adds.  “But the DA has asked us to get up on the stand.”

I steady my breathing, trying to focus on their touch.

“That’s alright.  It’s fine.  I’m going to be fine,” I say.

Mason nods, and I can feel my face burning up.  It’s not like they have any choice when it comes to testifying.  But still, their concern shakes me to my core.  It’s all so much, how these guys take care of me and ask about getting up on the stand, as if my opinion makes a difference.  In such a short time, they’ve become important people in my life.  I can feel it everywhere, in my heart, in my head, and in my groin right now.

“You seem flushed,” Logan notes as his eyes rake over my face.  They dip lower, taking in the rest of me as I unfurl my knees from my chest.

“Yeah,” I breathe.  “I can’t help it.”

I let my gaze wander over their bodies.  They must like it too, both of them spreading their arms and legs wider on the couch, giving my eyes as much of them as possible.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” Mason asks.  He tries to sound innocent but my ears find nothing of the sort behind his hoarse voice.

I focus again on them, succumbing to the fire building in my chest.  “I want you.  Both of you.  Is that okay?”

Buy Links:

Amazon US

Amazon UK

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