BLOG TOUR: “Morrel & Morcerf and the Spear of Destiny” by Kyle Baxter.
Book Title: Morrel & Morcerf and the Spear of Destiny
Author and Publisher: Kyle
Cover Artist: Kyle
Release Date: October 28,
Genres: LGBTQ+ Action & Adventure Fiction, MM
Tropes: Race Against the Clock, ex-military, king incognito
Themes: Community, Family
Heat Rating: 2
Length: 98 449 words/ 373
It is a standalone book. It is
part of a connected series—shared universe—but you do not need to have read the previous
books to follow it.
Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited
Archaeologists Chase Nazi Gold!
Alois d’Pierrepont and Marton Prawer have been attending
black market antiquities events trying to recover treasure stolen by Nazis during World War
II. Marton is particularly interested in a certain missing Picasso.
Following the trail to France, the two stumble into far more
than they bargained for when a shady auction they’re attending in Paris’s Latin Quarter is
raided by Interpol. Alois’s uncle Frederick, from Bring Me Edelweiss, is soon hot on the case
along with his lover Joel McIntyre.
After recovering the journal of a Nazi general the four men
race across western Europe, chased by fascists desperate to find the treasure for
themselves. Gunfights and car chases ensue as the group uses a map in the journal to track
down the treasure and its contents, rumored to include the fabled Spear of Destiny.
Alois d’Pierrepont knelt at the door to the study and pulled
a small black pouch from his breast pocket. With a grunt, he undid the button on his Versace
“Black Baroque” evening jacket. It fit a little too snugly for squatting. Opening the bag, he
selected two picks, inserted them in the door lock, and went to work.
“How’s it going?” Marton Prawer asked, appearing beside
him and flashing his winning smile.
Alois looked up at his boyfriend. I’d go a lot quicker if you wouldn’t hang on my
shoulder, he thought. “Just bloody fine,
dear,” he grumbled between gritted teeth.
They’d come to the party to find evidence that the host
collected Nazi memorabilia. Marton was obsessed with returning stolen loot to the Jewish
people. A noble pursuit. And being a history buff and amateur archaeologist himself, Alois
found him fascinating and intense.
The owner of this house had a reputation for acquiring
antiques with a sketchy provenance. But reputation was not proof, so the two young men
were looking for something they could leverage for information. Something that might get
them an in to the black market antiquities scene. To be fair, Alois was at a loss as to how to
accomplish that, but Marton was determined. Seems a bit of a stretch.
It was a good thing he was able to use his own contacts to
get an invite to this party, but . . . May wind up
paying for that. That particular person, a
socialite named Denis, was a pill and likely to bring it up to gain his own leverage. He let out
a long, deep breath. So far, it’s worth
it. After all, they’d made it here.
But still, the games people
play. It’s all so exhausting.
He wiped beads of perspiration off his forehead and
frowned. Locks never gave him this much trouble. Then again, he wasn’t used to performing
under pressure. Before, it was always a lark, a trick he picked up as a kid running around his
grandfather’s drafty old home, picking the locks on all the doors for fun. Though he’d long
ago gone pro and bought a professional lockpick set, this was different. They were on a
“Take a breath.” Marton’s voice was easy and
Alois shook out his hand and let out a long exhalation, then
went back to it. After a moment, the tumblers clicked easily like they’d been waiting for him.
The lock let out a satisfying chunk.
“Sorry, just a bit nervous.” Alois chuckled as he stood.
“Never done this ‘in the field,’ as they say. Before, it was always a party trick or me larking
about. Never actually tried housebreaking before.”
Marton looked up at Alois and gave him a kiss on the lips.
“You did great.” He ran a hand along the front of Alois’s slacks, teasing him until he
hardened. “I’ll give you something special when we get back to your place.”
A deep moan escaped Alois’s chest. “I’m looking forward to
it already.” Grabbing the door handle, he stepped inside the office and flicked on the
They stepped into a nondescript modern office.
“Oh,” Marton said in surprise.
“What, were you expecting a Nazi flag on the wall?” Alois
asked, nudging the shorter man in the side. “Or an autographed photo of Hitler?”
About the Author
Kyle is an artist, playwright,
and writer. As a playwright, Kyle has had his plays performed in New York at the NY
International Fringe Festival, and the Midtown International Theater Festival. As an artist
and illustrator, he has had his art exhibited in both New Orleans and New York.
Born in Hawaii, Kyle is an
Army brat and grew up in Erlangen, Germany, as well as Augusta, Georgia, and several cities
in Texas. After stints in Louisiana and New York, he resides again in Honolulu with his black
Labrador Retriever Brady.
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