LGBT Fiction

RELEASE BLITZ: “My Name is Jimmy” by Garrick Jones.

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: My Name is Jimmy

Author: Garrick
Jones

Publisher: MoshPit
Publications

Cover Artist: Garrick
Jones

Release Date: June 1,
2022

Genres: LGBT mystery thriller,
LGBT crime fiction

Themes: Lies and deception,
murder mystery, finding Mr. Right, war and its aftermath

Length: 17 930 words/53
pages

Heat Rating: 4
flames

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

Goodreads

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon AU | Amazon
US | Amazon UK

Blurb

In 1947, James “Jimmy” Bacon becomes involved in a
violent workplace altercation fuelled by a PTSD-induced rage. His boss, a fellow war-veteran,
tells him to take a few months off work, have a holiday, go somewhere warm, and get his
head together.

Jimmy decides to take a coastal steamer to the

northernmost outpost of Australia, Darwin, the capital of the Northern Territory, to visit the
grave of his oldest friend, Sandy, killed during the Japanese bombing of the city in 1942.
Upon arriving, he discovers that Sandy’s death is not as simple as military records seemed to
indicate. After learning that Sandy’s grave contains only an arm with no distinguishing
features, he starts asking questions around town in order to find out what really happened
to his mate.

The more he asks, the more he discovers that Darwin is less
about post-war reconstruction and more about drugs, gambling, and the excessive
consumption of alcohol. It’s a lawless city where 95% of the population is male and
prostitution is banned, creating a thriving underworld where rough frontier-town blokes and
men from the armed forces are doing more with each other than having a beer and passing
the time of day.

While digging deeper, Jimmy discovers a terrible truth,
arousing the interest of men who would do anything to keep the past a secret—men who
consider his life of little value. Jimmy is forced to rely on quick thinking and his army training
when death comes looking for him in the dead of night.

Excerpt

Tides in Darwin were monumental, sometimes more than
twenty feet rise and fall twice a day. The harbour was still dotted with wrecks, the
Indonesian bosun of the launch from the Pamanoekan taking us to the makeshift
long jetty that jutted out into the sea from Mindil Beach happily pointed out the ships and
the numbers killed on each vessel. The American destroyer USS Peary had the highest death toll:
over eighty-eight killed during the raid and only fifty-three survivors. I had no idea; we
hadn’t got that news, just that ships had been sunk and the town bombed twice. As we
negotiated towards the beach, I saw two officials waiting at the end of the jetty. There were
only six of us disembarking in Darwin, but there seemed to be a small crowd on the beach
itself—probably about twenty men in all. I couldn’t imagine they were a welcoming
committee; they were most likely blokes who’d decided to quit the town and sail on the
Pamanoekan to either Broome or Perth to start new lives.

“Take care, Mr. Bacon,” the bosun said to me. “Darwin’s a
hard drinking town, rough and violent. Too many blokes, barely any women. Watch yourself,
especially in the pubs, most men in this hole like to speak with their fists.”

“Sounds like what I’m used to, mate. Don’t worry about
me.”

“Got your military permit to go ashore?”

I patted the breast pocket of my jacket. Everyone had to
have a reason to go to Darwin; in 1947, you still couldn’t just turn up there out of the blue.
I’d applied for my permit with a covering letter from Sandy’s parents, asking me to take a
photo of his grave. Reluctantly, it had been granted after I’d showed my service record to the
dick at the permit office in Sydney. He was all of sixteen by the look of him. I’d slapped it on
the counter and growled. His eyes had bulged a little, but he’d stamped it and called out
“next!” over my shoulder.

I had six weeks in Darwin to get warm, find what I was
looking for, and shake off some of my demons. The first two I was sure I could do; the last
remained to be seen.

“Taxi, sir?” a thick-set man asked as I stepped onto the
beach after being processed.

“Nah, I’ll walk,” I replied.

“Where you going?”

“Stokes Hill.”

“In this heat?” he asked with a smile, showing a mouth full
of gold teeth. “That’s nearly an hour on foot, mate. Do yourself a favour and get in my
cab.”

“Call this hot? I served in Ceylon, India, and Malaya, and
finished my war in Burma and Siam, my friend. An hour stroll in the sun will do me
good.”

“Suit yourself,” he said. When I asked which way I should
go, he pointed in the direction of Stokes Hill then turned his back on me to ask a man and his
wife who were standing not far away, looking
stunned at their surroundings, whether they needed a taxi. Two years after the war, there
were still bomb craters and uncleared tangles of broken palms on either side of the road
that led to the jetty.

I walked down the beach for a bit then changed into my
shorts and a singlet, threw my army duffel bag over my shoulder, and lit a fag. “Hello,
Darwin,” I said to nowhere in particular.

I could have sworn it told me to fuck off and go back
home.

About the Author

After a thirty year career as a
professional opera singer, performing as a soloist in opera houses and in concert halls all
over the world, I took up a position as lecturer in music in Australia in 1999, at the Central
Queensland Conservatorium of Music, which is now part of CQUniversity.

Brought up in Australia, between the bush and the
beaches of the Eastern suburbs, I retired in 2015 and now live in the tropics, writing,
gardening, and finally finding time to enjoy life and to re-establish a connection with who I
am after a very busy career on the stage and as an academic.

I write mostly historical gay fiction. The stories are
always about relationships and the inner workings of men; sometimes my fellas get down to
the nitty-gritty, sometimes it’s up to you, the reader, to fill in the blanks.

Every book is story driven; spies, detectives,
murders, epic dramas, there’s something for everyone. I also love to write about my country
and the things that make us Aussies and our history different from the rest of the
world.

I’m research driven. I always try to do my best to
give the reader a sense of what life was like for my main characters in the world they live
in.

Social Media Links

Blog/Website |
Facebook | Twitter |
Instagram

Newsletter Sign-up | Pinterest | Australian Crime Writers Association

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions




Continue ReadingRELEASE BLITZ: “My Name is Jimmy” by Garrick Jones.

BOOK BLAST: “The House with a Thousand Stairs” by Garrick Jones

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: The House with a Thousand Stairs

Author: Garrick
Jones

Publisher: MoshPit
Publishing

Cover Artist: Garrick
Jones

Release Date: March 18,
2020

Genre: Historical gay
novel

Tropes: Rekindling past
friendships; the connection of spirits.

Themes: Cross-cultural
relationships; connection through the love of the land; rebuilding lives after conflict;
Indigenous beliefs and spirituality; farmer and policeman; Australian Outback.

Heat Rating: 2 – 3 flames

Length: 353
pages

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

Goodreads

Buy Links

Amazon AU | Amazon
US | Amazon UK | Smashwords

Blurb

Warrambool


In Gamilaraay, the language of the
Kamilaroi peoples of north-western New South Wales, it’s the word for The Milky Way. It’s
also the name of Peter Dixon’s homestead and sheep station, situated in the lee of the
Liverpool Ranges.

In 1947, Peter returns from war, his parents and
younger brother dead, the property de-stocked and his older brother, Ron, having emptied
out the family bank account and nowhere to be found.

The House With a Thousand Stairs is the story of a
young man, scarred both on the inside and the outside, trying to re-establish what once was
a prosperous and thriving sheep station with the help of his neighbours and his childhood
friend, Frank Hunter, the local Indigenous policeman.

Enveloped by the world of Indigenous spirituality,
the Kamilaroi system of animal guides and totems, Peter and Frank discover the true nature
of their predestined friendship, one defined by the stars, the ancestral spirits, and Baiame,
the Creator God and Sky Father of The Dreaming.

Maliyan bandaarr, maliyan biliirr.

Excerpt

Two days later, Richard Williams, Sparrow’s nephew, turned
up.

Peter was standing in the old kitchen when he heard the car
horn. He’d been shaving off his patchy beard and still had soap on half his face, so yelled up
the side passage, “Out here!” He couldn’t be bothered shaving since he’d come back home
and had let his beard grow for a few days. It grew thicker along his chin line than on his
cheeks, and had got to the length where it looked untidy and scraggly … and it itched like a
bastard.

“Jesus, look at you,” he said as Richard poked his head in the
door. “You grew.”

“So did you.”

The first thing Peter noticed in his shaving mirror was how his
boyhood friend had filled out. Dressed in a singlet under a pale blue shirt, opened to the
third button from the neck, and overalls rolled down to the waist, Richard leaned against the
doorframe, idly inspecting Peter’s back.

“Few war wounds, Pete.”

“You bring any back?”

“Only on my dick. Teeth marks mainly.”

Peter laughed, holding the razor away from his face so he
didn’t cut himself.

“I bet if I had a good look I’d find teeth marks in other places,
Dick.”

“No one calls me Dick anymore, except my uncle, Pete.”

“You’ll always be Dick to me,” Peter replied with a wink.

His friend laughed. They stared at each other in the mirror
longer than men who hadn’t been close as teenagers might have done.

“Mechanic, eh?” Peter said, rinsing off his face and wiping his
razor on a towel. He still used a straight edge.

“Here,” Richard said, “turn around, you’ve missed a bit.”

He took the razor and then scraped under Peter’s chin, nudging
it upwards first with the back of his fist.

“I’ve missed more than a bit,” Peter said, pushing forward
gently so their hips bumped against each other.

“I don’t do that anymore,” Richard replied with a smile.

“Yeah, neither do I.”

They both laughed.

There’d been a small group of boys, on the cusp of becoming
men, who’d been close. They’d “mucked about together”, as it was called back then. They’d
laughed and joked about it, compared sizes, talked about the girls they said they’d rooted,
when every one of them knew each of them had lied. But then there’d been those times
when a few of them would slip off somewhere together without the others, or meet up by
chance with ants in their pants and find somewhere quiet.

Peter had been popular—the others had sought him out. He
was happy to do the thing the others were leery of, or felt was somehow not manly. None of
them blabbed about his ability to roll onto his tummy or lift a knee against a tree to let them
have a go. He didn’t care what anyone thought. It didn’t make him feel any less of a bloke for
it—he simply liked the feeling. His availability had always come at a cost, though. He’d
invariably asked, “A ride there for a ride back?” And they’d always nodded dumbly, their
knees trembling, knowing the reciprocal ride back was as rare as hens’ teeth. Dick Williams
had been one of the few of his mates who had been happy to allow Peter to climb on after
he’d had a turn, or to get on his knees and give him a gobbie afterwards to bring him
off.

“Christ you’ve got some muscles on you, Pete Dixon.”

“Comes from doing push-ups with blokes on my back who say
‘I don’t do that anymore’.”

Richard snorted softly. “Guess that’s something you didn’t give
up in the army?”

“I’ll bet you a fiver you didn’t either.”

Richard didn’t reply, he merely shrugged and looked over his
shoulder out of the doorway. It’s what nervous blokes did, Peter thought. What have
you got to be nervous about, Richard Williams? Those were his thoughts, but
something below his belt had answered his question.

“So, we gonna go have a squiz at your truck?” Richard asked,
offering his packet of tailor-mades.

“In a minute,” Peter said, shaking his head at the offer of a
Chesterfield and then taking his makings pouch from the pocket of his shirt, which had been
draped over the back of a chair.

“What you waiting for?”

“You to take your clobber off and get in there,” Peter said,
tossing his head in the direction of the room in which he’d been sleeping for the past three
days.

“I dunno, Pete … it’s been a long while, and as I said, I
don’t—”

“Get in there, Williams,” Peter said with a growl as he lit his
cigarette. “The squiz at the truck can wait a bit, there’s something in your pants I want a
gander at first.”

He watched for a few seconds while Richard fumbled with his
shirt; his hands were trembling. There’d always been a lot of chemistry between them. It
was something he’d almost tasted the moment Richard had poked his head around the
doorway.

“Let me unbutton your shirt,” Peter said gently, passing him his
lit cigarette.

“Unless they had different names for them in the part of the
army you served in, Pete, that’s not my shirt,” Richard said with a laugh.

“Buttons, buttons, shirt or pants, they all have to be undone,
sooner or later.”

About the Author

After a thirty year career as a
professional opera singer, performing as a soloist in opera houses and in concert halls all
over the world, I took up a position as lecturer in music in Australia in 1999, at the Central
Queensland Conservatorium of Music, which is now part of CQUniversity.

Brought up in Australia, between the bush and the
beaches of the Eastern suburbs, I retired in 2015 and now live in the tropics, writing,
gardening, and finally finding time to enjoy life and to re-establish a connection with who I
am after a very busy career on the stage and as an academic.

I write mostly historical gay fiction. The stories are
always about relationships and the inner workings of men; sometimes my fellas get down to
the nitty-gritty, sometimes it’s up to you, the reader, to fill in the blanks.

Every book is story driven; spies, detectives,
murders, epic dramas, there’s something for everyone. I also love to write about my country
and the things that make us Aussies and our history different from the rest of the
world.

I’m research driven. I always try to do my best to
give the reader a sense of what life was like for my main characters in the world they live
in.

Social Media Links

Blog/Website |
Facebook | Twitter |
Instagram

Newsletter Sign-up | Pinterest | Australian Crime Writers Association

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions



Continue ReadingBOOK BLAST: “The House with a Thousand Stairs” by Garrick Jones

RELEASE BLITZ: “Tongues”by Clancy Nacht & Thursday Euclid.

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Tongues

Author: Clancy Nacht &
Thursday Euclid

Publisher: Eine Kleine
Press

Cover Artist: Clancy
Nacht

Release Date: May 17,
2022

Genre: LGBTQ+ horror fiction,
Lovecraftian horror

Tropes: Forced proximity, fate

Themes: Saving the world, Interracial mc, black mc, lgbt, horror, adult, cosmic horror, occult horror, paranormal
suspense, occult fiction

Heat Rating: 5 flames

Length: 51 000 words/170
pages

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

Buy Links –
Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US |
Amazon UK

Cosmically tormented
FBI linguist investigates famous actor’s unspeakable past and discovers an eldritch power the
government seeks to exploit

Blurb

Cosmically tormented FBI linguist Ekon is the only one B-list

heartthrob Chris will talk to about the Farm, a horrifying cult of which he’s the only known
survivor. As they bond over mysterious pasts and their unsettling attraction, Ekon discovers
an eldritch power his government bosses would love to exploit, one that could spell the end
of everything.

While there are queer and romantic
elements, this is a horror novel.


Content Warning: Violence, gore,
horror, mentions of CSA

Excerpt

In a black, Fed-issued SUV, Ekon pulled up outside Daimon’s
luxury apartment at the appointed hour. A trickle of sweat snaked down Ekon’s spine in LA’s
abundant spring warmth, turning cold as he headed through the air-conditioned lobby to
the elevator. Though it should’ve been a bustling, well-secured complex, there didn’t seem
to be a soul around.

Palming his badge, he strode down a long, empty, gray-
walled hallway and knocked at Daimon’s door.

“Mr. Daimon, it’s Agent Adams with the Federal Bureau of
Investigation. We have an appointment?”

There was nothing, not a sound on the other side. Was
Daimon even at home? Was anyone?

Then Ekon heard it: The eerie rustle of the nameless
language. Born not of wind or whistling pipes, it emanated this time from the corridor’s
buzzy fluorescent bulbs as if presaging the coming of something unutterable.

Without even the sound of a loosed deadbolt, the door
yawned open, and a familiar young white man stood before Ekon. He was damp, naked but
for the towel clinging precariously around his hips, and in excellent physical shape.

The world went silent, as if muted by the force of Daimon’s
presence. There was only the fluorescents’ unholy rustling and a high-pitched, constant
scream like the aftermath of a high-powered gunshot.

Then Daimon smiled.

Ambient noise returned with crippling ferocity: Traffic
outside the complex, neighbors within, as painfully intense as if they were all trapped inside
Ekon’s skull. Even his heartbeat deafened him, a muffled thudding in his inner ears one
instant per second.

The young man tilted his head, wet hair dripping onto his
shoulder. His eyes—a bright blue even more piercing than on television—scanned Ekon
slowly up and down with careful sensuousness that left Ekon feeling undressed.

Then Daimon blinked slowly, like a happy cat, and turned
sideways to allow Ekon in.

“They sent you alone?”

Why did he sound so amused?

About the Authors

Together, Texans and platonic
life partners Thursday Euclid and Clancy Nacht write queer novels that span genres, with
intense romances and a seamless shared narrative voice.

They published their first co-
written novel, the m/m rock star romance Black Gold, in 2010, and now have over a decade
of award-winning collaborations under their exquisite belts. Recent titles include the twisted
romance His Fake Prison Daddy and the Phisher King series, in which an uptight federal
agent and a bratty hacker go from enemies to lovers while solving a hate crime.

Though Elder Millennial trans
man Thursday and Gen X gender outlaw Clancy live three hours apart, they are inseparable.
Their friendship is a perfect example of the Grumpy/Sunshine trope, which makes Thursday
very happy. Clancy thinks it’s all right.

Social Media Links

Blog/Website |
Twitter | Twitter |
Instagram

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions



Continue ReadingRELEASE BLITZ: “Tongues”by Clancy Nacht & Thursday Euclid.

BOOK BLAST: “His Wild Flower” by L. Grey S.

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: His Wild
Flower

Author: L. Grey
S.

Publisher:
Self-published

Cover Artist: Tjota
Art

Release Date: December 28,
2021

Genres: Dystopian Sci-Fi/cyberpunk, Boys Love

Tropes: Enemies to lovers, slow-burn

Themes: Good vs Evil, courage & perseverance,
redemption

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length: 80 600 words/ 324
kindle pages

This is a standalone book for now. It concludes, but there’s an
open-ended silver lining in the epilogue.

Goodreads

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US | Amazon UK

There’s ugliness in beauty,
but there’s also beauty in ugliness…

We may be monsters, but
we are each other’s monsters…

Blurb

What is destiny? Do we have the power to change the
course of our lives, or are we forever bound by fates formulated by the algorithm of
being?

And coincidences – are they merely fluke
occurrences or are they the results of a planned chain reaction?

That is the story of a man who has run away from
his past, and another who is running from himself. Pursued by their own demons, the
unlikely pair collide fiercely with judgements and misunderstandings. From enemies to
lovers, the pair journey on a path to discover truths that they have been denied. But are
they ready to face them?

Who is the hero and who is the villain in their
story?

And what is their destiny…?

YouTube Trailer

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Igi6mU1OBBs

Excerpt

Chapter 1

Looking at himself in a half mirror, he tightened his fist and
the arrowhead punctured his palm. Staring at the bident tattoo on the left of his chest, he
trembled and a tear rolled down from his eye. Savagely stabbing the arrowhead onto it, he
carved and mutilated the ink of his past.

Covered in blood, he squeezed his built body under the
tight shower, clumsily hitting the on button. Standing naked under running water, he lifted
his chin, parted his lips and tasted the chlorine water. The ravishing man ran his thick and
rough fingers through his drenched hair.

Blood drained like scarlet before waterfall from his
mutilated wound. Unfazed by the stinging pain, he smothered soap over his sculpted torso,
crimson bubbles dribbling down his rock-hard chest to those iron abdominals. Attached to
his body were a pair of athletic legs and a perky derriere. Wrapped with unsightly scars,
each told stories like cave paintings. He brushed his callused fingers over them.

Out of the shower, he raided the minibar. Cracking open a
few miniature vodka bottles, he splashed them over his mutilated wound and roughly
dressed it before swallowing a handful of painkillers, complimentary of hospitality Alice.
Breaths slowing down, his lids turned heavier.

* * *

He peeled open his swollen lids. Painfully tied to a chair
with barbed wire, he noticed he was restrained by his own signature Shibari knots. He
chuckled to himself; only one madman would mock him with such atrocity.

He heard footsteps approaching. Pricked by thousands
of pins and needles, his body went into shock when ice-cold water was splashed onto him.

Laughing sinisterly in a familiar coarse voice, the man
beside him smacked Marcus’s cheeks and whispered, ‘Time to wake up, my sleeping beauty.’

His throat tightened: Marcus was voiceless. A sudden
punch to his jaw sent a back tooth catapulting out of his mouth. Falling to the ground,
Marcus spat out metallic tasting blood between his teeth.

Holding Marcus’s arrow-tipped blades to his throat, the
man sneered, ‘How could you, Sheng?! You traitor! I’m going to take away everything you
cared about!’

Hah… that’s me…

I am Sheng… I was Sheng…

Faint knocks from a distance distracted the man.

* * *

…they were getting louder. Slowly lifting his lids, Marcus
was unsure if he was still dreaming. Stumbling to the door, he was greeted by Alice with
breakfast.

Taking one look at the tray of mush, Marcus asked, ‘What’s
this?’

‘The Director told me to bring this. High-protein mashed
beans with a side of kale salad and toast.’

‘Ugh…’ Repulsed by the unappetising meal, Marcus took a

slice of toast then chucked the tray on the desk and pulled a long hoodie over himself to
venture outdoors.

Hospitality my arse!

Guided by his lens, Marcus left the heavily guarded building
with his head down and scouted around Downtown. He felt as though he had walked into a
science fiction movie.

The bustling Downtown was buzzing with flying drones and
patrolling robots. Autonomous vehicles were driving themselves seamlessly and accordingly.
Transportation capsules were travelling at super speed in transparent tubes which was
around Downtown, surrounded by cloud-height skyscrapers.

Still trying to adjust to his new upgrade, Marcus’s cornea
lens was being bombarded with relentless data, holograms and augmentations along with
all the data from the Solar users. Dazed from experiencing the overwhelmingness that Stig
had warned about, he kept bumping into people who were engrossed in their Solar devices.
A migraine began to pound against his skull so he turned the lens off.

He wandered into a park. Sitting on a park bench, burying
his head against his knees, he rocked desperately to try and force the pain away. A
concussion had his brain mixed up, and he gasped when he suddenly flashed back to a pair
of bloodstained hands.

I’m a coward. Everyone is dead and I’m still breathing. I
failed to rescue them.

Guilt… Marcus was tormenting himself with it. He was
nothing but a lone wolf prowling in a foreign land, purposeless and meaningless.

He took a deep breath… and ended up choking himself
with a pungent stench of drunkenness. Passed out beside him (at ten in the morning) was a
man hugging an empty bottle of champagne at ten in the morning. With thick, scruffy hair
over his face, Marcus could not get a good look at the intoxicated person. Missing a shoe,
shirt unbuttoned, half undone tie – the man clearly had had a bit too much fun.

The drunk propelled his guts and Marcus sprang away
nimbly like a ninja. Holding his breath from the awful stench on his hypersensitive nostrils,
Marcus caught the drunk before he rolled into his own sick. Laying the drunk down, he
draped his hoodie over the man.

And left.

About the Author

Little Grey Soul

Eye for Beauty,

A Boys Love
devotee,

A storyteller of fictional
fantasies.

Root of the East,

With a voice of the
West,

Blending them makes writing
Best!

Little by little,

Grey celebrates the
middle,

Soul behind my writing is for
you to unriddle.

Author Links

Goodreads | Facebook

Twitter |
Instagram

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

Continue ReadingBOOK BLAST: “His Wild Flower” by L. Grey S.

RELEASE BLITZ: “In Vineyards Veritas” by Clancy Nacht & Thursday Euclid

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: In Vineyard Veritas

Author: Clancy Nacht &
Thursday Euclid

Publisher: Eine Kleine
Press

Cover Artist: Clancy
Nacht

Release Date: January 21,
2022

Genres: LGBTQ Cozy mystery, trans man

Tropes: Amateur sleuth, favorite aunt dies, going back home again,
mystery

Themes: Coming back home, finding where you belong

Heat Rating: 0
flames

Length: 206
pages

It is a standalone story.

Goodreads

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US | Amazon UK

In wine, truth. In
vineyard… mystery.

Blurb

Local police summon retired CTO Geraldine Thorn from her
Austin lake house to Kitsch, Texas, the small town where she grew up, when her beloved
Aunt Tilda is found dead at her vineyard home, presumably from a slip in the bath. Upon
arrival, Gerry discovers Tilda’s eclectic group of friends—including a much, much younger
lover—and rivals. When they realize Tilda’s slip wasn’t an accident, Gerry enlists the help of
a handsome Texas Ranger with secrets of his own.

Excerpt

“Howdy. Ms. Geraldine Thorn? This is Sgt. Hale Alexander
with the Texas Ranger Division Company F.” Hale’s voice was a pleasantly raspy tenor with a
thick East Texas drawl. “The Arguello County PD requested my assistance with a mysterious
death. A Lt. Klaus gave me this number. He said, and I quote, ‘May you have the joy of her,’
and washed his hands of this affair. Don’t think you’ve got a fan, ma’am.”

“I’m friendlier when I’m not upset about my aunt dying.”
Gerry felt a pang of frustration, but she appreciated that this guy sounded like he’d be
reasonable. “I appreciate you looking into this. Things aren’t adding up.”

“Well, ma’am, this is highly irregular, involving the Rangers
in this kind of thing, but I’m on my way to Kitsch now from Waco, and we’ll see what there is
to see. The autopsy report had some discrepancies, so your gut may hold true. Don’t go
quotin’ me on that, all right?” Hale cussed under his breath, and the sound of a car horn
interrupted their conversation.

Sounding calmer, he resumed, “Anyhow, I’m gonna have to
view the body before she’s laid to rest, if that’s all right with you, ma’am. I understand
you’re gonna wanna get closure, put her in the ground soon’s you can, but this is
important.”

“Of course. I just came from the funeral home, I can let
them know to hold off picking her up.” She paused and looked up and down the street. “Is
there any way I could join you? I just want to… I think if I saw her with my own eyes it would
help me wrap my head around what happened.”

Discrepancies. That sounded… positive? Not exactly that,
but it was nice to hear that she wasn’t totally losing it. “If she’d had too much wine and
slipped in the tub— that would make sense, but opioids? I just… and there’s a young man,
and… there are things that don’t add up. I want to do right by my aunt.”

“That’s admirable, ma’am. But are you sure you wanna see
your aunt in that state? She’s been autopsied, and she’ll be nekkid as a jaybird on that slab.
It’s gonna stay with you.” Hale didn’t shoot her down, which was something. If anything, he
sounded supportive. There was a steadying warmth in his tone even over the
phone.

“She wouldn’t like my delicate sensibilities getting in the
way of finding out what happened if someone did this to her.” Seeing Tilda’s body wasn’t
something she was looking forward to, but she needed to know. “I’ll be all right.”

“All right then, ma’am. Text me your address to this
number, and I’ll swing ’round and nab you. You’re not gonna wanna drive after. I’m an hour
out.” Hale’s drawl was comforting. While Gerry wasn’t really a small-town girl, she had a
feeling Hale’s good ole boy persona would play well in Kitsch, and no one was going to turn
away a Ranger’s inquiries.

“I’m already downtown. I can…” She looked around and
then shrugged to head to her car. “I’ll just go home, and text you the address. It’s on a
vineyard, so it’s a little out of town, but I imagine an investigator shouldn’t have too hard a
time finding it. Thanks.”

About the Authors

Together, Texans and platonic
life partners Thursday Euclid and Clancy Nacht write queer novels that span genres, with
intense romances and a seamless shared narrative voice.

They published their first
co-written novel, the m/m rock star romance Black Gold, in 2010, and now have over a
decade of award-winning collaborations under their exquisite belts. Recent titles include the
twisted romance His Fake Prison Daddy and the Phisher King series, in which an uptight
federal agent and a bratty hacker go from enemies to lovers while solving a hate
crime.

Though Elder Millennial trans
man Thursday and Gen X gender outlaw Clancy live three hours apart, they are inseparable.
Their friendship is a perfect example of the Grumpy/Sunshine trope, which makes Thursday
very happy. Clancy thinks it’s all right.

Social Media Links

Blog/Website |
Twitter | Twitter |
Instagram

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RELEASE BLITZ: “Seashell Virgin” by Steve Schatz. Rafflecopter Giveaway Included!

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Seashell
Virgin

Author: Steve
Schatz

Publisher: Any Summer
Sunday Books

Cover Artist: James –
GoOnWrite.com

Release Date: October 31,
2021

Genre: Humorous Mystery, Gay Friends, Drag

Tropes: Friends overcoming haters,

Themes: Empowering, humor

Heat Rating: 2
flames

Length: 85 000 words/ 288
pages

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

It is part of a series with
related characters and themes, but reading the other books in the series is not required.

Goodreads

Buy Links

Amazon US | Amazon UK

Mystery, Wit &
Drag Queens

Blurb

Fast-paced fun. Touching and tawdry. Churchies, crooks,
and rapscallions scheme to close our only gay bar, rape a forest, and get rich with a

gay-hating charter school. Break-ins, kidnapping, threats, blackmail, bondage, and the most
spectacular drag show the world has ever seen, thrill and delight you as the anti-heroes
from Nacho Mama’s Patio Cafe once more answer the call to set things straight, as it
were.

Excerpt

Chapter 1 – Some Days Suck

Gone! A fourteen-foot truck packed to the tits with geegaws, gowns, and glamour—spirited
away. I had parked it right here, less than thirty minutes before, obvious as a zit on a first
date, across the street from Hoosier Daddy, the town’s only gay bar. Close, so when I got
stuck carrying everything TiaRa del Fuego chose into the dressing rooms backstage, I’d have
less of a struggle. I had already been far too butch for a day off. I had planned for a day full
of napping, occasional attempts at cleaning, some light reading, and more napping. Then
Beau showed up far too early and ever since, I had been far too active for someone of my
tender years and with my lack of motivation.

All that splendor had not just walked itself into the van. No, these arms, these legs, and this
back had been repeatedly besmirched by physical effort and all were letting their
displeasure be known. When I’d pulled up to the bar a few minutes earlier, I wanted,
needed, and deserved a drink, possibly two—while I described the glories that awaited in
the truck to TiaRa and Suave. Timmy had laid the groundwork and my ebullience had sealed
the deal. TiaRa had said she positively hungered for the gowns and baubles. Suave KitTan
had declared she already had a plan to sneak a quantity of the lovely things into her store,
Suave Delights, while evading the watchful eye of her devoted husband Foxy, who had once
again decreed no new stock was allowed until there were sales to match. Suave was always
much more interested in acquisition than disposition. All that remained between me and a
lovely lie down was the actual hand over. So, we went out to complete the exchange.
Simple. But there the truck wasn’t.

“Are you sure you parked it here?” asked TiaRa in much the same tone a mother uses when
asking, “Where did you see it last?”

Swallowing my frustration, I managed to contain my impulse to point out that my age and
mental abilities had not declined to such an extent that I would have forgotten where I had
parked the truck in such a short time. TiaRa, a delicate being, did not deserve snippy replies,
despite my rising alarm.

The truck had been either towed or stolen. One possibility was expensive, and the other
horrifying. I had just promised the contents to TiaRa and Suave and I hated to disappoint
them. Far worse, the truck was actually the property of my latest job. I had only recently

been given keys to the shop and knew where the keys to the truck were kept. No one had
been at work when Beau’s moving emergency arose. The truck wasn’t scheduled to be used,
so I had borrowed it without asking. I just left a note for Brian, the owner. I knew this was
generally acceptable. Others had done it, but I was new and hadn’t taken the liberty before.
If the truck was in any way damaged, I would be looking for a new job. If it had been stolen,
I might be looking for a lawyer. I do not handle stress well. My mouth tends to make talking
motions without actually forming words. Tia and Suave looked at me with growing concern.

Maybe the churchies, I thought.

About the Author

Steve Schatz writes with a
crazy mashup of laughs and excitement and humor. Readers can’t stop reading, but don’t
want the story to end. Each book is an adventure where endearing anti-heroes struggle
against this crazy world and triumph using the twin forces of intentional, creative action and
friends helping friends. Schatz draws on a lifetime of varied and fascinating experiences,
from instructional designer and college prof to party clown and nightclub
owner.

His series of adult fiction
highlights a group of middle-aged gay friends who gather every week in a small, Indiana
college town. Mixing drinks, snappy repartee, and the humor and joy of long-time friends, in
one book they rescue the fair drag queen from an obvious miscreant. In another, they ride
to the protection of a lesbian candidate for judge who is being targeted by mysterious
evil-doers. The excitement reveals itself against a backdrop of drag performance and efforts
by anti-heroes. You’ll laugh. You’ll cry. You’ll beg for more. Steve Schatz offers a new voice
and a smile for the LGBT community and their friends.

Author Links

Blog/Website
|
Twitter: @AnySummerSunday

Facebook | Newsletter sign-up

Giveaway

Enter the Rafflecopter
Giveaway for a chance to win

an ebook of each of the 3 books in the series

(Any Summer Sunday, Who
Plugged the Dyke, and Seashell Virgin)

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RELEASE BLITZ: “The Schoolmaster’s Spy” by Ruby Moone

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: The
Schoolmaster’s Spy

Author: Ruby Moone

Publisher: Self-Published

Cover Artist: Meredith
Russell

Release Date: October 28,
2021

Genre: Regency MM

Tropes: School Crushes / King’s spy with trust issues & geeky school
master

Themes: Trust, love, finding a family, self-acceptance

Heat Rating: 4
flames

Length: 93 000
words

It is book three in the
Winsford Green Series and does not end on a
cliffhanger.

Book 1 – Dances Long
Forgotten

Book 2 – People Like Us

Goodreads Series

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Universal
Link | Amazon US | Amazon UK

Mark Dexter was the one
boy that schoolmaster, Felix Brook, never forgot. Ten years later, he’s back…

Blurb

With Bonaparte defeated, King’s spy, Captain Mark Dexter
is furious at being sent to investigate the latest headmaster of his old school, rather than a
smuggling ring on the south coast. Things look up considerably when he realises that the
schoolmaster he admired above all others, Felix Brook, is still there. The man who listened
to him, the man who cared about him, the man who is still out of bounds. With only half an
eye on the job, Dexter puts Felix in a compromising position. The mission goes
catastrophically wrong, leaving Felix to bear the brunt of the repercussions. With his
commanding officer after his blood, and Felix running from him, Dexter is desperate to put
things right.

Felix Brook, schoolmaster, is devoted to Hestingley’s school
and its pupils. His life is quiet and unremarkable, but When Mark Dexter turns up at an Old
Boys’ dinner, he turns Felix’s life inside out. In the decade since he last saw him, the wild,
unpredictable schoolboy has become a devastatingly handsome man. Felix can scarcely
believe it when Dexter makes his attraction clear, it’s like a dream come true. Until it all goes
wrong.

Reluctantly thrown together at the Winsford Green annual
Summer Fete, Felix and Dexter attempt to piece together what happened, rebuild trust, and
deal with the searing passion that still burns between them. When the truth is finally
revealed, Felix must not only prove his innocence, but hold tightly to love as Dexter’s world
crumbles beneath him.

Excerpt

Felix yelled aloud at the shock of running into someone in
the dark corridor. A firm hand clamped over his mouth and Felix clutched the strong arm
that held him. When the hand eased a little, he was wondering frantically what to say by
way of explanation for his presence, when a wave of sandalwood mingled with leather hit
him. There was only one person in the world who smelled like that. Only one person with
that underlying scent of manliness. He swallowed and stared at the floor, gathering his
composure. Why would Dexter be here? Why? The conclusion he drew both terrified and
exhilarated him.

The hand over his mouth lifted and Felix had to make
himself not lick his lips.

“Brook?” It was him. Mark Dexter was standing in
front of him, one arm holding him tight. Felix had regretted not taking up the earlier, blatant
invitation with every fibre of his being. Castigated himself as an abject looby for not
responding with at least a smidgeon of sophistication and behaving like the insular, lonely
schoolmaster he was.

“You followed me.” He hadn’t a clue what else to
say.

“Is that what you think?”

Felix had to look up at that. “Well, why else are you
here?”

Moonlight shone through the window beside them, casting
a ghostly glow over Dexter’s head, making his hair look darker and his eyes gleam.

“Why else indeed,” Dexter whispered and stepped closer.
Felix’s instinct was to run, but he held his ground. This was probably the last chance he
would get to spend time with him. Who was he fooling? Spend time? He didn’t want to
spend time, he wanted to… Well, he didn’t know what in God’s name he wanted but it
involved Captain Mark Dexter in his rooms. In his bed, leaning over him, kissing him, feeling
the weight of him. Christ, he wanted him naked.

“Do you want me to leave?” Dexter was so close he could
feel the warmth from his body.

This was it. All he had to do was say ‘yes’ and he was sure
that Dexter would leave. He had done so last time.

“Mr. Brook?”

“My name is Felix,” he said, surprised at how deep and
rough his voice was.

A smile spread across Dexter’s sculpted features. “Felix,” he
whispered as though tasting the word on his tongue.

“You can’t be calling me Mr. Brook. That man was your
teacher.”

“And this man, Felix?”

Felix shivered as Dexter moved closer. He touched his nose
to Felix’s ear and the breath left Felix’s chest. His eyes fluttered closed, his mouth opened on

a soundless word, and he leaned into the contact.

Dexter’s hand slid around Felix’s waist, and he pulled him a
tiny bit nearer. He pushed his nose against Felix’s cheek and nuzzled. Felix felt the soft
warmth of his breath, the scent of his skin, and the latent strength in the body that stood so,
so close.

“Might this man, Felix, be my lover for tonight?”

About the Author

Ruby Moone lives in the wilds of Lancashire
with her husband and writes historical and contemporary romance. At school, her teachers
said that she lived with her head in the clouds and if she didn’t stop daydreaming she would
never get anywhere. She never did stop daydreaming, and after years of happily living in the
clouds, decided to write the stories down.

Social Media links

Facebook
Page | Facebook Group – Ruby’s Room

Twitter
| Instagram | Tumblr

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BOOK BLAST: “Flowers of Flesh and Blood” by Amy Tasukada

BOOK BLAST

Book Title:
The Yakuza Path 5: Flowers of Flesh and
Blood

Author: Amy
Tasukada

Publisher: ‎ Macarons & Tea Publishing

Release Date: May 28, 2020

Genre: gay thriller, NOT ROMANCE

Tropes: Bad boys, tragic hero, unrequited love

Themes: Mafia, betrayal

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length: 299
pages

It can be read as a standalone
but you get more if it is read as part of the series.

It does not end on a
cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Kobo

Apple Books | B&N | Google Play | Books2Read

A killer. A traitor. A deadly war that could take their love
and their lives…

Blurb

Ruling the Kyoto yakuza makes Nao Murata a perpetual
target, especially with the Koreans encroaching into their territory. An attempt on his life at
his mafia headquarters crosses a line. Setting up his beloved ally Aki as the would-be
assassin crosses another. Nao knows the only way to save his friend’s life is to sever their
growing bond and force Aki to fake his own death…

But Aki Hisona refuses to stay dead. Determined to expose
Nao’s would-be killer and save the man he loves, Aki goes deep undercover in the Korean
underworld. But when he’s asked to prove his loyalty, he risks becoming caught in a web of
his own lies…

With Aki gone and the Kyoto mafia in grave danger, Nao
fears his trust in others could be fatal.

Will Nao and Aki find the traitor in time, or will Nao’s rule
end in bloody chaos?

The Yakuza Path: Flowers of Flesh and Blood
is the powerful fifth installment of
The Yakuza Path thriller series. If you like gritty Japanese crime, richly-nuanced
characters, and slow-burning gay romance, then you’ll love Amy Tasukada’s high-octane
novel.

Buy Flowers of Flesh and Blood to slice into the Japanese underworld today!

The Yakuza Path Series

BOOK 1 – Blood Stained Tea

BOOK 2 – Better Than Suicide

BOOK 3 – One Thousand Cranes

BOOK 4 – The Deafening Silence

BOOK 5 – Flowers of Flesh and Blood

BOOK 6 – Wrapped in Screams

Releasing in November

Pre-Order here

Excerpt

Aki closed his fingers around the paper brim of his empty
coffee cup and ripped another small piece off. Without looking, he added it to the pile on
the table. Mindlessly stuck on repeat, he ripped, added, ripped, added, over and
over.

He’d spent the night in the twenty-four-hour Korean café,
trading off between sleeping in the bathroom and eating cake to justify staying. He’d been
hoping to improve his Korean, but the speakers played nothing but pop songs. Aki learned a
million new ways to tell Nao how he felt but doubted he’d gained the right words to impress
Namjoon.

Another rip.

Another one on the pile.

Another turn of the mangled cup… Another rip.

His ribs tightened in his chest, crushing his heart until it
screamed. He didn’t deserve to be by Nao’s side.

Another turn.

Another rip.

Another sugarcoated song about love.

Aki’s thumb hit the bottom of the cup. Nothing more to
tear up but himself.

He stood, bones aching from napping on the bathroom
floor. He needed a bed, and the only way was with Namjoon’s help.

About the Author

International best-selling
author Amy Tasukada writes thrilling times of crime, love, and gore. Readers who crave
diverse characters, unique settings, and edge-of-your-seat action will devour her
Yakuza Path series. Readers who seek less blood and more love will swoon
over the Yakuza Path
Romance and Would it Be Okay to Love You? Series. Amy is an atheist, queer author who enjoys drinking tea,
Japanese street fashion and visual kei music. Her calico cat, O’Hara, is never far from her
side. Amy lives in North Texas, but is always planning her next trip to Japan.

Author Links

Blog/Website
| Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

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