RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Bedside Manners
(Living Situations Book 2)

Author and Publisher: Ella
Fenn

Cover Artist: Mayhem Cover
Creations

Release Date: May 10,
2022

Genre: Contemporary M/M romance

Tropes: Age gap, hurt/comfort, BDSM, hot mountain man, forced
proximity

Themes: Healing trauma, second chances, coming of age

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 88 000 words

It is the second book in the
series, so characters from book 1 do show up in it, but the reader doesn’t need to know
their story to read this one.

The book does not end on a
cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links –
Available in Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link | Amazon US | Amazon UK

A freak windstorm. A life-
changing accident. An unlikely helping hand.

Blurb

A freak windstorm. A life-changing accident. An unlikely
helping hand.

After years spent suffering under the weight of his father’s
expectations, Max Castillo-Grant is celebrating his shiny new law degree by drinking,
partying, and bed-hopping around Seattle. Max isn’t stupid—he knows the good times never
last—but if the world’s going to bring him low, he might as well enjoy the high.

Six years ago, a broken heart and a deep loss turned Ben
Greer bitter and reclusive. Formerly the life of the party, he quit his job, rejected his friends,
and hid from the world. Now, he spends his days alone, working on occasional custom
carpentry commissions, with only his dog, Judith, for company.

Two severe weather events conspire to leave Ben in need of
a full-time caretaker for his injuries, and Max in need of a respectable job. Despite a rocky
start, Ben is begrudgingly won over by Max’s good humor, and the two form a lasting
connection. But emotional wounds leave deep scars, and both Ben and Max are damaged.
Can they find a way to heal hurts that go far beyond the physical before it’s too late?

The second book in the Living Situations series,
Bedside Manners is a gay romance featuring an age gap, BDSM, and 4-6 terrible puns about
woodworking. If you like steamy situations, hurt/comfort, and grumpy mountain men, then
you’ll love Ella Fenn’s latest novel.

Pick up Bedside
Manners and let Ben and Max sweep you off
your feet today!

Excerpt

Ben woke to the disconcerting sensation of a tongue
between his toes. He sat up, yanking his foot away, and faced down the wet-mouthed
perpetrator.

Judith sat back on her haunches and grinned, her tongue
lolling from her lips as she stared at him with brown eyes that radiated canine intelligence.
She was smart enough to know how to get Ben out of bed, at any rate.

“Menace,” Ben said, scowling as he scrubbed a hand
through his hair. “Delinquent. I oughta take you back to the pound.”

Judith gave an impatient yap, her shaggy tail thumping
against the hardwood. Ben glanced at the clock and yawned. “All right, all right. I’m coming.”

He rose, ignoring the way his knees popped and his neck
twinged—forty-five was forty-five—then dressed in his standard flannel and jeans then
navigated the maze of boxes that lay between him and the stairs. eBay purchases, mostly,
things he’d intended to refurbish and sell but never quite got around to dealing with.

Judith led the way downstairs to Ben’s well-stocked kitchen,
where he poured a bowl of kibble for her and got coffee brewing for himself before flipping
on the radio.

“We’ve got a windstorm advisory for Seattle. It’s gonna be a
nasty one out there, folks, so if you’re planning on hiking, maybe reconsider,” the announcer said as she detailed the day’s weather. A quick
glance out the kitchen windows confirmed her words. The tall pines surrounding Ben’s
isolated property were bending under the wind’s assault.

“Guess we’re staying in the shop today,” he said, more to
himself than to Judith, who was still preoccupied with her food.

Not that staying in was a problem—Ben had been doing it
every day for the better part of five years. There was plenty of gas in the generator and food
in the fridge, so even if the wind blew the power down (which it had been known to do on
occasion), he and Jude could stay tucked up and safe for a good long while. Not forever,
but… well, forever would be the dream, with unlimited supplies appearing as if by magic.

“Come on, little girl,” he said, patting her head. “You wanna
get to work?”

That got her tail wagging, and Ben grinned. He felt the
same way about the workshop, that welcoming cocoon of sawdust and wood awaiting them
across the drive. Originally, it had been a two-car garage with a mother-in-law suite
overhead, but he’d converted the space into his workshop when he bought the place,
putting up a carport between the buildings to link them. The shop was his sanctum
sanctorum, full of tools he’d inherited from his father and some shiny new toys he’d
purchased to make it perfect.

Judith bounded ahead, eager to get to her favorite
place—favorite bed, favorite toys, favorite box of treats—and Ben followed, cupping one
hand over the top of his mug, the scalding splashes barely registering against the worn
calluses he’d built up over the years. No more than half the coffee remained by the time he
made it to the workshop and opened the side door. Judith, true to form, was already curled
up in her bed, the doggy door Ben had installed years before having allowed her ease of
access.

“Shit,” he said, leaning against the heavy wooden door with
a laugh. “That’s some gale, huh, Dorothy?”

Judith didn’t get the joke. Humor was wasted on canines.
Harrumphing, Ben went to his desk, set his coffee between two precarious-looking piles of
papers, and picked up the leatherbound sketchbook he’d need to continue work on his latest
commission of six dining chairs.

Notebook tucked into his back pocket, he went to his wood
rack, selected a sheet of oak, and eased it out. He whistled along with the wind as he
brought the wood to the table saw that dominated the corner nearest the rack. An ancient
relic, the saw had been his father’s, carefully packed and shipped from Montana after the
old man had died a few years prior.

Ben flipped the switch that powered the table then got to
it, carefully cutting the slab of oak down to size. It was rote work, peaceful in its way, and he
lost himself in the rhythm, heedless of the screaming wind outside… until there came a bang
on the roof so loud it made him jump. That was a mistake, since he’d been damn close to the
blade. The torque of the motor kept chewing through the wood, and when it got to Ben’s
forearm, the saw chewed through that too.

About the Author

Ella Fenn is a
romance author best known for telling tawdry tales tinged with a little something
sweet.

Author of the
Living Situations series, Ella wakes at the crack of dawn each day and spends a few hours
tapping at the keyboard before beginning her 9-5 job in marketing and communications.

Using her bachelor’s in
journalism and a master’s in organizational behavior, Ella enjoys diving deep into the unique
traits and tricks that make her characters tick. She believes everyone has a story to tell, and
loves to engage with readers, whether it’s answering questions or discussing the nitty-gritty
of her process.

Social Media Links

Blog/Website |
Facebook | Facebook group | Twitter

Instagram | Newsletter Sign-
up | TikTok

Giveaway

Enter the Rafflecopter
Giveaway for a chance to win

one of 5 signed copies of Bedside Manners (for US residents only) or
ebooks for non-US residents.

a
Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: The Last One to Let You Down

Author: K.L. Hiers

Publisher: Self-Published

Cover Artist: Covers by Jo

Release Date: November 13, 2020

Genre/s: Contemporary M/M Romance, BDSM Romance

Trope/s: Funeral Director/Florist Romance, Blackmail Leads to Love, BDSM Virgin

Themes: Personal Growth, Dealing with Death, Difficult Jobs,

Learning to Love Yourself

Heat Rating: 5 flames

Length: 102 000 words

It is a standalone story.

Goodreads

Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US | Amazon UK

Blurb

Thomas Hill is a lonely embalmer who’s in some big trouble – his ex-boyfriend has been forcing him to illegally sell dangerous chemicals with no signs of stopping, and Tom doesn’t know what to do. His situation gets even more complicated when Cypress Holmes, a smoking hot local florist, walks in on Tom making a deal. Cypress agrees to keep quiet, but his silence comes at a price.

He wants Tom to do exactly as he says and to give him complete and total control over his body at all times. Tom now has no choice but to obey Cypress’s every command to stay out of jail. But when Cypress starts spanking him and tying him up, he realizes he doesn’t mind the rough treatment at all. With or without the threat of blackmail hanging over his head, he likes what Cypress does to him… and he doesn’t want it to stop.

Author’s Note: This book includes intense sexual scenes, rough spankings, and depictions of death and embalming as they relate to the funeral industry. If this material offends or may upset you, please don’t read this book.

Excerpt

Tom was an embalmer, and he’d been working at Crosby-Ayers Funeral Home in Mayfield, North Carolina, for over ten years. He’d done his apprenticeship there after graduating mortuary school and had stayed on once he’d gotten his license. The funeral home was busy enough to support him working solely as an embalmer, and he didn’t have to meet with families like Aaron, who was a funeral director.

Aaron had the right look for it. He was handsome, olive skinned with curly black hair and a confident smile. He could offer sympathy with ease and wore a suit well.

Tom… not so much.

He felt like a silly kid playing dress-up when he wore a suit, and they were always too tight no matter how much he tried to lose the stubborn weight he carried around his stomach and thighs. He was only wearing one today because he thought he was going to have to help out on a funeral.

They hadn’t needed him after all, which was fine by Tom. He didn’t do well with the living, and he’d been told more than once that he came off as creepy.

He was quite pale with chin length mousy brown hair, and his big blue eyes gave him an owlish appearance. He thought it made him look startled or afraid, not quite right for instilling confidence in a family that he was going to help them through their difficult time.

It also didn’t help that he was painfully shy.

Fortunately for Tom, his embalming talents usually kept him in the preparation room and away from families. His specialty was restorative art, repairing those who had suffered traumatic deaths so that their families could see them again.

The woman he had just finished was a Mrs. Jan Winslow, who had died on a Friday, and her body was not found until Monday. During that time, her beloved Pomeranian, Mister Doodles, had eaten the entire right half of her face.

“Walk me through it,” Aaron asked eagerly. “Like, tell me how you do it?”

“Well, you can’t do anything really until after you’ve embalmed them.” Tom stood up and stretched, peeling off his gloves and dropping them into the biohazard trash. “Makeup and the wax we use doesn’t stick that great to unembalmed skin. Slides right off if you’re not careful.

“The next step is cauterizing all of that exposed tissue. Embalming helps dry it out some, but you really wanna make sure it doesn’t leak so we use other chemicals, cauterants like Dryene, to help. Once the skin is good and dry, then we start filling.”

“What do you fill it with? I mean, I saw her before. There was a lot… missing.”

“You can use a bunch of different things depending on how big the wound is,” Tom replied, pulling open the prep room door and ushering Aaron out into the hallway.

It was often full of freshly delivered caskets, stretchers, and bags from the linen service, and today was no different. Tom had to carefully navigate around two caskets and a stack of towels, trying to lead Aaron back out to the offices to continue their conversation.

“Old school embalmers would use newspaper or cotton,” Tom went on, grabbing his suit jacket off the rack by the office door. “These days, they actually make compounds called ‘wound filler’ to well, fill wounds. And then—” He paused when he heard a loud slam, glancing back over his shoulder to see what it was.

At the other end of the hall were three doors. The one on the right led into the walk-in cooler, the one directly opposite the office door was an exit that led into the side parking lot, and the one on the left connected the hallway to the garage. The coaches and limos were stored there, and there was a special door in the corner for flower deliveries.

All of the doors for employees required a code to enter except for that one, and it stayed unlocked during business hours for flower deliveries. Someone could get inside the garage to drop off arrangements, but they wouldn’t be able to get into the hallway.

The hallway door to the garage had been left propped open, probably from a casket being delivered earlier, and the sound Tom had heard was the flower delivery door slamming inside the garage. As his heart began to pound in anticipation, he forgot all about Aaron.

HFG might be here.

Hot Flower Guy.

“Hey, where are you going?” Aaron protested.

“Just go to the office!” Tom called back, already halfway back down the hall. “I’ll meet you in there!”

“Okay,” Aaron replied reluctantly. “Then you’ll finish telling me about wound filler stuff?”

“Scout’s honor!” Tom slowed down as he approached the open door, putting his jacket on and trying not to appear too eager as he stepped inside the garage. He broke into a huge smile when he saw it was HFG in all of his bulging glory.

HFG was black, tall, and broad with thick shoulders and an even thicker beard framing his dark brown face, and Tom had daydreamed about running his hands all over his body. They had barely even spoken more than a few words, but Tom had a definite crush.

The funeral home hours didn’t give Tom much freedom and being on call almost every night killed any chance of an active social life. After a nasty breakup followed by a disappointing string of one night stands through dating apps, he’d committed to staying single until the funeral home hired more help.

In the meantime, he’d grown quite fond of HFG’s deliveries. He didn’t even know his name, but he’d been trying to find out for weeks. HFG was always in and out too quickly to ever strike up a conversation, and Tom wanted a name to go with that gorgeous face.

It didn’t matter that HFG was painfully out of his league—unless he happened to be into pasty white brunettes who had never grown out of their baby fat with big chins and an awkward little gap between their front teeth.

Tom had been cruelly teased about his smile since he was a little kid, no doubt the root of his introverted nature, but he was too excited about seeing HFG to care for once. As he stepped into the garage, however, his joy instantly faded.

HFG was there, but he was arguing with the assistant manager of the funeral home, Gerald Ayers.

Gerald was a prick.

No, he was the absolute king of pricks.

About the Author

K.L. “Kat” Hiers is an embalmer, restorative artist, and queer writer. Licensed in both funeral directing and funeral service, she’s been working in the death industry for nearly a decade. Her first love was always telling stories, and she has been writing for over twenty years, penning her very first book at just eight years old. Publishers generally do not accept manuscripts in Hello Kitty notebooks, however, but she never gave up.

Following the success of her first novel, Cold Hard Cash, she now enjoys writing professionally, focusing on spinning tales of sultry passion, exotic worlds, and emotional journeys. She loves attending horror movie conventions and indulging in cosplay of her favorite characters. She lives in Zebulon, NC, with her husband and their children, some of whom have paws and a few that only pretend to because they think it’s cute.

Author Links

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

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