RELEASE BLITZ: “The Wingman” by A. Poland.

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: The Wingman

Author: A.
Poland

Publisher: NineStar Press
LLC

Cover Artist: Natasha
Snow

Release Date: July 26,
2021

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance, Romantic comedy, New
Adult

Tropes: Friends to lovers, love triangle, childhood best friends, slow
burn, sharing a bed (tent)

Themes: humor, friendship, family, communication

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length: 69 762
words

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

Goodreads

Buy Links

NineStar Press | Amazon
US
| Amazon UK

Always the wingman,
never the “one”.

Blurb

Nathan, a college student with a thing for funky hats and a
definite not-thing for the great outdoors, has been a wingman extraordinaire for his lifelong
best friend Lorcan for as long as either can remember. With his innate ability to talk
endlessly about how great Lorcan is to anyone who’ll listen, Nathan has always been the
best man for the job—even if he’s secretly waiting for the day when Lorcan will realize that
Nathan is the only guy for him.

But then, Lorcan sets his sights on Miles, the suave,
leather-jacket-wearing musician with a love of mountaineering and a family of six
overprotective sisters, and Nathan must once again put his wingman skills to work.

Trouble is, Nathan is getting tired of the old routine, and
Miles is the only human being on the planet immune to Lorcan’s charm. Not to mention that
Miles’s interest is immediately piqued by the outspoken and completely oblivious
wingman.

Excerpt

Nathan blinked blankly at his best friend.

“My help?” he parroted, not quite getting
what Lorcan was suggesting. It wasn’t as though he could go up to this Miles guy and talk his
ear off about Lorcan to encourage him to make the first move. They’d already met; they’d
spoken. If Miles was interested, he’d make a move.

Hope stirred in Nathan’s chest.

If Miles was interested, why hadn’t he already made a
move?

“Yeah, I need you to do your thing.” Lorcan nodded, looking
at Nathan expectantly, as though that would make Nathan whip out a ready-made action
plan on how to get into Miles’s pants.

“Dude, I do that so you can talk to them without doing the
awkward introductions yourself.” Nathan spoke slowly, as though explaining how to draw a
straight line to a child. “You’ve already covered that.”

“Well, then think of this as a part two,” Lorcan allowed with
a huff, probably because Nathan was making very valid points. “I don’t know if he’s even
into guys.”

Nathan frowned thoughtfully. Normally, it was easy to tell if
someone was into Lorcan. Or at least to Nathan. He liked to think his dad’s perceptiveness
had been inherited—to a lesser extent, of course, because Nathan was good, but he wasn’t
that good—enough that he made a great wingman to other people, not just Lorcan. Hell,
a few of the people in their friend group had asked for his help before.

It wasn’t as easy, sure. But Nathan had a pretty high
success rate. A few of them in happy, long-term relationships to boot.

Maybe he should have business cards made.

Nathan Reed—will get you laid.

Nathan shook off that thought as quickly as it had come
because that made him sound like a matchmaker, and he was decidedly not experienced
enough to consider that as a career path.

“So you…what? Want me to meet him and suss out if he’s
interested?” Nathan tried talking slowly, one brow apprehensively raised.

“Yeah!” Lorcan grinned. “Exactly. Work your
magic.”

Nathan huffed out a laugh, rolling his eyes at Lorcan’s
enthusiasm about Nathan’s apparent “magic.” It wasn’t magic; it was just knowing how to
talk to people. Specifically, talking to people about Lorcan. Who, in Nathan’s opinion, was
the easiest thing in the world to talk about.

Sometimes, on very good nights, Nathan didn’t have to do
as much. Sometimes, the woman would know exactly why he was approaching and just cut
to the chase. He always appreciated those; they made his life a lot easier.

“Okay, I’ll do you this one favor.” Nathan sighed, clearly
teasing. There were no favors between them. No one kept tabs over who owed the other
what. “Now drive me somewhere to get food. I’m starving.”

Lorcan laughed, his mood clearly elevated from earlier.
Even that was enough to settle Nathan a bit more. Sure, his brain might still be working
overtime on limited sleep, but Lorcan’s coming-out experience had been painless for him,
and that was something at least.

“Your wish is my command,” he quipped back, starting up
the car and taking them to their usual haunt.

There was nothing better than getting food with

Lorcan.

Lorcan was a picky eater, while Nathan happily consumed
anything deemed edible. Which meant Nathan tended to get extra of whatever Lorcan
didn’t like, and no food was wasted.

Win-win all around.

But this time, the experience was different.

Nathan hadn’t been worried about any uncomfortable
silences or lapses in conversation after being away for so long, and he’d been right not
to.

But he never thought to be worried about Lorcan
never shutting up.

Which, under normal circumstances, would have been
fine. But these weren’t normal circumstances.

Lorcan wouldn’t stop talking about Miles.

In the last half an hour, Nathan learned more about the guy
than he ever wished to. His gut twisted with each and every new fun fact presented to him,
his shoulders drawn tighter and smile more strained.

So far, Nathan learned the following:

Miles was a musician.

A lot of people were musicians, especially in LA; it wasn’t a
big deal. In fact, Nathan had taken piano lessons for an entire week and could still
successfully play “Twinkle Twinkle.”

Miles was a graduate from Juilliard.

Nathan might have asked Lorcan to repeat himself because
there was no way he’d said
Juilliard.

But he had. And that was fine. Juilliard was a
college just like any other. Saint Andrews was nothing to scoff at either.

Miles was adopted.

It made sense. Probably adopted into a wealthy family with

plenty of connections, considering the Juilliard thing (fucking Juilliard).

Miles’s eyes were this unusual gray
color
.

Lorcan spent a great deal of time talking about the color of
Miles’s eyes. (There were only so many ways to describe stormy gray with flecks of brown,
Nathan groused, please move on.) Anyway, Nathan had been told that he had unique eyes.
Granted, they’d been compared to a swamp before. But still. Swamps had a bad rap—they
had
frogs.

But no, Lorcan clearly had a thing for smoke-colored eyes
now, not gunky-green.

Miles was hugely involved in environmental
activism.

Nathan recycled.

About the Author

Fuelled by a worrying tea
addiction (with a tattoo to prove it), A. Poland is a rom-com writer from Ireland who delights
in telling stories that make you fall in love with the characters and give you that squee
feeling in your chest.

Three words A. would use to
describe her writing are funky, silly, and spicy. Which, coincidentally, is also their dancing
style.

When they’re not
daydreaming of the next meet-cute, A. works as a video producer and a full-time dog mom
to her pride and joy, Gizmo.

Social Media Links

Email (public address)
disasterbiwrites@gmail.com

Website |

Twitter

Facebook | Goodreads

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AUDIOBOOK REVIEW TOUR: “This is not a Horror Movie” by Sara Dobie Bauer.

AUDIOBOOK REVIEW
TOUR

Book Title: This is Not a Horror Movie

Author: Sara Dobie
Bauer

Narrator: Blake
Lockheart

Publisher:
Self-published

Cover Artist: Natasha Snow
Designs

Release Date: June 8,
2021

Length: 8 hours and 57 mins

Genres: M/M new adult, gay
paranormal romance, LGBTQ, romantic comedy

Trope: Friends to
lovers

Themes: non-explicit,
humorous, teens, summer vacation, hauntings, evil spirits

Heat Rating: 2
flames

Warnings: Scenes of
graphic violence, death of minor characters, mentions of bullying, alcohol use

It is a standalone
story.

Add on
Goodreads

Buy Links

Audible US | Audible UK

Amazon US | Amazon UK

Emory Jones loves two
things: horror movies and Connor Nichols.

Blurb

Emory Jones loves two things: horror movies and
Connor Nichols.

For the past four years, Emory, Connor, and their families
have vacationed side by side on Longboat Key, Florida. Eighteen-year-old Emory has pined
for his neighbor from behind the covers of Stephen King books, but college boy Connor has
never noticed him. Probably because Emory looks like Jack Skellington with good
hair.

Emory anticipates another predictable summer of sunburn
and disappointment. Instead, he ends up with a mystery on his hands when a beloved beach
bum goes missing, and Connor volunteers to help with the search. Turns out it’s not just
scary movie cops who are worthless, so the boys start an investigation of their own—leading
them straight to an abandoned beach resort.

Despite the danger, Emory and Connor grow closer, but as
Emory’s gay dreams start coming true, so do the horror movie tropes he so loves. Even
though he knows that sex equals death in slasher flicks, Emory can’t keep his hands off the
guy of his teenage dreams.

About the Author

Sara Dobie Bauer is a
bestselling romance author and mental health / LGBTQ advocate with a creative writing
degree from Ohio University. She lives with her hottie husband and precious pup in
Northeast Ohio, although she’d really like to live in a Tim Burton film.

Author Links

Blog/Website
| Facebook | Private Facebook Group

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| Instagram | Newsletter
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|
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Continue ReadingAUDIOBOOK REVIEW TOUR: “This is not a Horror Movie” by Sara Dobie Bauer.

RELEASE BLITZ: “My First” by Sky McCoy. $10.00 Amazon Gift Card Giveaway Included!

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: My First

Author: Sky
McCoy

Publisher: Sky
McCoy

Cover Artist: Cate
Ashwood

Release Date: May 17,
2021

Genre: Contemporary M/M
Romance,
Humor

Trope: Fake Boyfriend, Age
Gap,
Friends to Lovers

Theme: Forgiveness

Heat Rating: 5 flames

Length: 185 words/ pages
165

It is Book 1 of the Surrender
Series

Add on Goodreads

 

Buy Links

Amazon US | Amazon UK

 

A young man searching
for his future, an older man living his life single.

Can they both find the
love they desire?

 

Blurb

Caden:

“Grayle Meadows was like no other man I’d ever met. He
was tall, handsome, sophisticated, and sexy as hell. Eyes so blue you thought you were
swimming in a seductive ocean, and you could lose yourself and never come up for air, and
he was the first man I ever loved. I could have spent my life adoring and loving him, but for
one thing, he said, ‘You’re too young.’ Twenty five wasn’t that young. I was just hitting my
stride.”

A young man searching for his future, an older man living
his life single. Can they both find the love they desire?

Submission series is an age gap (25/35) M/M
Romance with HFN. The first book contains fake boyfriends and friends to lovers.

 

Excerpt

Chapter 1

Caden

I’ve seen men, great-looking men. Some average, some tall,
beautiful, handsome men, but I never thought much of it. However, when I laid eyes on
Grayle Meadows for the first time, I knew I’d missed a lot in my life.

The day I first caught sight of that man, I knew he was out
of my league, but hey, foolishness and dreams are for young men, and I was going to dream
until something, or someone woke me. However, it wasn’t happening today, because today
my eyes were feasting on Grayle Meadows—hair perfect, eyes blue, face magnificent, suit
perfect, wide muscular shoulders, thin waist, and he was stunning.

All man, and I saw him first.

I’d like to think I was the first to see Grayle. However, it was
delusion on my part. I was sure there were many who laid eyes on this beautiful,
handsome-looking man before I’d entered the picture called life.

He appeared to be ten years my senior, therefore, to say
others had seen him first had to be inadequate, and superfluous. In other words,
unnecessary to say the least, because there was the likelihood that his mother and father
saw him long before I did. Maybe a brother or sister or two could claim that trophy if they
were giving them out for who spotted the handsome, sensuous, blue-eyed Grayle Meadows
first.

I’d throw in my medal for him being the sexiest, and most

compelling man alive. I was sure he could have any woman, or man, if that was his choice,
but I wanted him to pick me, and why not? I was young, gay, and available. Willing to go the
distance if it called for that. He exuded sex in the way no other man could. He didn’t just
walk, his steps measured, he sailed across the floor with no wind at his back, and when he
spoke it was with a low raspy baritone voice.

I’d gladly hand over a medal, but no one could claim that
they saw him the way I’d pictured him in my mind, then in my dreams, and how he’d
invaded my senses when he first strolled into the shop where I’d worked every summer
since my parents allowed me to have a summer job.

I smelled his manly scent among all the customers standing
at the counter waiting to be served. When I spotted him with his beautiful, strong face, deep
intense eyes, I knew he was the man for me, and he’d be my first and only love.

I dropped what I was doing and rushed over, elbowed one
of my fellow workers, and my best friend Lane, took the scoop from his hand, and I stood
waiting for my first and only to open those full lips, and tell me what he wanted—a blowjob
from me, or a piece of my firm, hard, young ass.

Name it. I’m here to please, I thought, wearing a wide smile.

I looked over at Lane. “Who is he? I saw him first.”

“His name is Grayle Meadows.”

I pushed Lane aside and stared at him, daring him to say a
word, or take a step in Grayle’s direction, because he was mine, and I had dibs on him.

Grayle leaned over, trying to decide on which vanilla flavor
to order, and I couldn’t help but take in his scent on this hot false-spring day. Not even the
heavenly smell of chocolate, strawberry ice cream, and lime sherbet could dull my senses,
because his shaving lotion had overtaken me along with the flash of his big blue eyes, and
his dark-auburn curly hair. It was a bad hair day for me, but not Grayle Meadows. I doubted
he’d ever had a bad hair day or anything else, because there wasn’t enough heat and wind
in the world to disturb and disrupt that full mane of beautiful shiny hair.

I watched his large hands move to his hair, and his long
fingers raked through it as he bent once more to look at all the flavors, and when he raised
his head, his eyes locked with mine. He smiled and moved on. My heart lurched and my
cock twitched. He was my first. Never had I had that feeling about anyone before where my
dick involuntarily set off a firestorm that had gotten out of control.

 

About the Author

Hi, I’m Sky

McCoy.

I write steamy M/M romance
books, and I love to read hot M/M romance. Maybe steamy is too mild a term for my books.
Maybe I should say that my gay romance books are hot, hot, hot. I enjoy writing about
strong, flawed men who don’t mind saying they’re sorry when they hurt the ones they
love.

I read and write across
genres and what gives me pleasure, and there is nothing more pleasurable or satisfying to
me than to write a happy ever after hot M/M romance with a kink or two.

My favorite books to read are
anything M/M, vampires, werewolves, mystery, and steamy romance. I have been busy with
reading and writing to bring you the best M/M romance books. Enjoy!

 

Social Media Links

Blog/Website |
Newsletter Sign-up | BookBub

 

 

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RELEASE BLITZ: “This is Not a Horror Movie” by Sara Dobie Bauer

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: This is Not a Horror Movie

Author: Sara Dobie Bauer

Publisher: Self-published

Cover Artist: Natasha Snow Designs

Release Date: May 13, 2021

Genres: m/m new adult, gay paranormal romance, LGBTQ, romantic comedy

Trope: Friends to lovers

Themes: non-explicit, humorous, teens, Florida, summer vacation, hauntings, evil spirits

Heat Rating: 2 flames

Warnings: Scenes of graphic violence, death of minor characters, mentions of bullying, alcohol use

Length: 78 000 words

It is a standalone story.

Add on Goodreads

 

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US | Amazon UK

 

 

Blurb

Emory Jones loves two things: horror movies and Connor Nichols.

For the past four years, Emory, Connor, and their families have vacationed side by side on Longboat Key, Florida. Eighteen-year-old Emory has pined for his neighbor from behind the covers of Stephen King books, but college boy Connor has never noticed him. Probably because Emory looks like Jack Skellington with good hair.

Emory anticipates another predictable summer of sunburn and disappointment. Instead, he ends up with a mystery on his hands when a beloved beach bum goes missing, and Connor volunteers to help with the search. Turns out it’s not just scary movie cops who are worthless, so the boys start an investigation of their own—leading them straight to an abandoned beach resort.

Despite the danger, Emory and Connor grow closer, but as Emory’s gay dreams start coming true, so do the horror movie tropes he so loves. Even though he knows that sex equals death in slasher flicks, Emory can’t keep his hands off the guy of his teenage dreams.

 

Excerpt

I’m about to follow a mysterious rat into the darkness when a hand lands on my shoulder. I suck a panicked gasp in through my lips as Connor says, “Sorry! Sorry.”

I put my hands on my knees and relearn breathing.

He stands there, backlit like some kind of hot angel, and shrugs. “Maybe you should be thanking me.”

“What?”

“You like to be scared,” he says.

He’s right. Haunted house in the neighborhood? I’m first. Spooky cemetery? Coming through. Maybe that’s part of the reason I always let Liz drag me to parties at the Outpost. It feels like being in a scary movie. I’m waiting for Leatherface to show up and murder the morally reprehensible youth. Of course, if horror movie rules are true, I’m totally dead. I lost my virginity at sixteen and more often than not spend “happy hour” sharing malt liquor with Longboat’s famous homeless dude, Leland.

“What are you doing over here?” Connor asks.

“Befriending local wildlife.” I glance over my shoulder into the dark. I shove hair out of my face—a nervous tic I’ve acquired since growing it out. Because I needed another nervous tic. “What are you doing over here?”

“Talking to you.” He grins, but I can feel a disconnect.

Connor and I have always had a mutually agreed upon rhythm. He’s the big, gorgeous straight dude who puts up with me, the skinny, little gay kid.

Well.

No one knows I’m gay down here. Florida is for family, not fu— Anyway.

In summers past, Connor wrestled me and tickled me, and I pretended not to like it. We talked about some things, mostly scary movies, but kept an emotional distance. He accepts me being a drama queen, and I never let him know I would climb Everest for his kiss.

Staring at me with a dumb look on his face is not our rhythm.

I finally lose my shit. “Jesus, am I bleeding from my eyes?”

He coughs out a laugh. “What?”

“You’re looking at me funny.”

He looks away. “Oh.”

I cross my arms. I have, in fact, filled out a lot since last summer—and the lifeguarding helps—but I’m still self-conscious about my small frame and will probably never forget the jocks calling me “Tinker Bell” from seventh to tenth grade. I press my lips together and side-eye the kids dancing to some club beat on Liz’s phone. “Everyone’s looking at me funny, actually.”

Connor clears his throat and plucks at the front of his tight, white T-shirt. He looks like he wants to dive headfirst into the empty pool at his back.

“You don’t have to talk to me, you know.”

His blue eyes flit back my way. Even in the dark, I know they’re blue. He says, “But I like talking to you.”

I hug myself tighter and lift a shoulder. “Seen any good horror movies lately?”

His smile is back. “Tons. I saw this French one called Raw.”

I bounce up on my toes. “Cannibals! Oh my God, that movie was so good! The writing.” I tear at my hair in euphoric bliss.

He nods. “And the scene with the roommate.”

“And the ending!” I poke him in the chest. “Dude, I tried to get Liz to watch it. She’s all vegetarian now because she dated this hippie dude senior year. She said she gave up meat for her health, but I think it’s because he said he tasted death in her mouth.”

Connor does the silent open-mouth laugh thing that happens when my storytelling reaches peak levels of absurd.

“She made it thirty minutes into the movie before she had to leave the room and vomit. Meanwhile, I was sitting there eating, like, spaghetti.”

He puts his hand on my shoulder as he keeps laughing. I smell his deodorant: sporty man stuff. “I can’t believe I almost didn’t come this year.”

That steals the air from my lungs. Sure, I should be avoiding the guy, looking forward to the future, but all of a sudden, I can’t imagine a summer without Connor Nichols making me blush.

 

 

About the Author

Sara Dobie Bauer is a bestselling romance author and mental health / LGBTQ advocate with a creative writing degree from Ohio University. She lives with her hottie husband and precious pup in Northeast Ohio, although she’d really like to live in a Tim Burton film.

 

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Continue ReadingRELEASE BLITZ: “This is Not a Horror Movie” by Sara Dobie Bauer

BLOG TOUR: “The Good Ship Lollipop” by Patrick Benjamin

BLOG TOUR

Book Title: The Good Ship Lollipop

Author: Patrick Benjamin

Publisher: KDP Publishing

Cover Artist: Rebecca Covers

Genre/s: Contemporary M/M Romance, Comedy

Trope/s: Love triangles, Frenemies

Themes: Moving on, learning to love again

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length: 140 000 words/430 pages

It is a standalone book.

Add on Goodreads

 

Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US | Amazon UK

 

Kyle must choose between the love of his past and the man he could love in the future

 

Blurb

For fifteen years, Kyle and Dustin seemed like the perfect couple. That was until Kyle came home to discover Dustin in bed with a yoga instructor half his age and twice his flexibility. Two years and countless therapy hours later, Kyle has almost put the incident behind him. Being nearly forty and single makes a man bitter, but he’s making do.

Yet, when Kyle’s best friend asks him to be her Man of Honor, on her ten-day Caribbean wedding cruise, Kyle finds himself in a most uncomfortable situation. He ends up trapped on a seafaring vessel for ten days with the man who practically destroyed him.

Face to face with Dustin for the first time since the breakup, unresolved feelings float to the surface, and Kyle and Dustin both begin to wonder if their story is as over as it seems.

While navigating unchartered waters with Dustin, Kyle also meets Jax, a sexy Australian who likes to cruise in more ways than one. Kyle is more than happy to let Jax distract him for ten days. Still, when Jax suggests that he might want more than just a few days of fun, Kyle must choose between the love of his past or the man he could love in the future.

 

Excerpt

No, absolutely not!” I nearly choked on a spinach leaf.

“You have to come,” Sapphire insisted. “I want you to be my Man of Honor.”

“A) That’s not a thing. B) The answer is still no.”

“I can’t get married without you.”

“Sure, you can. There’s no law against it. People do it all the time.”

When Sapphire offered to take me to lunch, I should have suspected something treacherous was afoot. Sapphire and I were like sisters. Sisters of different races and one of them with a penis, but sisters, nonetheless. Our relationship was something enormous and incomprehensible to most people. On paper, we had nothing in common. We had completely different backgrounds and cultural experiences that cultivated entirely different perspectives of the world around us. Despite those differences, we had found each other.

As close as we were, the girl had never offered to buy lunch. She seldom volunteered to pay for anything. That should have been warning number one. When she suggested my favorite Italian restaurant, Armando’s, that should have been warning number two. When she volunteered to foot the bill to attend her destination wedding cruise, I should have known to prepare myself for the Armageddon of bad news.

“You spent fifteen years with the man. What are ten more days?” She spoke with her hands. A piece of chicken flung off her fork and onto the table beside us. The senior couple, who were trying to enjoy their eighteen-dollar salads, glared at us like we each had two heads.

“I’m so sorry,” I mouthed to them.

“I can’t believe you would miss your best friend’s wedding over a tiny, little, uncomfortable inconvenience like this.”

“A cockroach infestation is a tiny inconvenience. Gonorrhea is uncomfortable. What you’re asking me to do is far worse.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Sapphire said, waving her hand. “Dustin is not that bad.”

“Isn’t he?” He was too tall, too fit, too classically pretty, and all too aware of the fact. He was narcissistic and untrustworthy, but he was also charming and exceptionally good at putting on an innocent act. He could flash his white teeth and his dimples and get people to believe anything he wanted. Still, if you looked into his eyes, you could tell he was soulless.

“Why would you want everyone to join you on your honeymoon, anyway?” I shifted focus. “I hate to tell you this, but if you can’t stand to be alone with Justin for ten days, you probably shouldn’t marry him.”

“Very funny,” she said dryly. “I want everyone there because I want my wedding to be an experience. An amazing memory we can all look back on together.”

“I am not spending ten days, on a tiny boat, in the middle of the Caribbean, with him.”

“It’s a cruise ship,” she corrected. “Besides, you won’t be with Dustin. You’ll be with me.”

“Lies!” I wasn’t buying any of it. “I know exactly what will happen. You and Justin will be too busy enjoying your Caribbean honeymoon to spend any time with me. Then I’ll be trapped, in the middle of the ocean, with no one to talk to except Beelzebub’s concubine.”

“He’s not going to be the only other person there, you know. Several other people will be in our group. You can make one of them your wingman. My father loves you. You can hang-out with him.”

“Honey, don’t take this the wrong way. If I’m on an exotic vacation, and the only man who wants to spend time with me is your sixty-five-year-old arthritic father, I might drown myself in a bathtub.”

“Don’t be silly,” Sapphire dismissed. “You’ll be surrounded by water. There’d be no need to draw a bath.”

I did not look amused.

“I can’t believe you’re still so angry. It’s been over a year.” It had been eighteen months since the breakup, and yes, I was still harboring, hurting, and hating.

I hadn’t seen or spoken to Dustin since the incident. As instructed, he had been gone when I returned to the apartment. With Sapphire’s help and some very strategic planning, I had avoided him throughout the entire decoupling process.

I left yellow Post-it Notes on everything he could take and was extremely vindictive about it. He could have the Blu-ray player, but not the discs or the TV. He could take the kitchen table, but not the chairs. I even kept the Keurig, though I permitted him to take his pods. What kind of monster drank decaf anyway? I also instructed Sapphire to guard the jazz record collection with her life. I detested jazz music, and we both knew it. I planned to pawn or destroy the albums later.

The first few weeks after the breakup, Dustin tried tirelessly to communicate with me. He sent me text messages that I didn’t answer and left voice mails that I refused to listen to. Dustin tried everything short of smoke signals. He even sent me an old-fashioned letter, which I didn’t open and burned immediately. I had nothing to say to him and had no desire to hear what he had to say to me. I had never been an incredibly trusting person, and his betrayal had reinforced all those walls that I had been trying, for years, to dismantle.

Being the forgiving person she was, Sapphire tried to convince me to give Dustin a second chance. Still, I refused, steadfast in my determination that he’d had his chance. Since then, she had been careful not to mention him. Even though I knew full well that she saw him regularly. He was her fiancé’s twin brother. She had to remain cordial. I did not and had no intention of ever being so.

“You simply have to come. We’re going to so many beautiful islands: Turks and Caicos, Bonaire, St. Thomas, and Aruba. You’ve always wanted to go to Aruba.”

That was true, but still, “If you put us on a ship together, I promise you, I will throw him overboard.”

She smiled wide, her teeth gleaming white against the contrast of her chocolate skin. “That’s fine! Just promise you’ll make it look like an accident.”

“Duh,” was the most mature response I could muster. “I don’t want to end up someone’s bitch in a Caribbean prison.”

“Don’t you, though?”

Dirty, prison sex would have been the most action I’d seen in a while. Thirty-nine may have been young by hetero standards, but in the queer world, I was practically a spinster. Being classified as an elder gay meant that my dating pool had been reduced to a few categories. First, those men who were so weird or creepy that nobody wanted them, or second, those who were so bitter and jaded by relationships past that dating them was like trying to build a house out of straw. I was a card-carrying member of category two.

Of course, there was always a third group. Younger men. They were excellent in theory, with their zero percent body fat and their permanent erections. However, too often, their perfect bodies and sexual appetites only camouflaged the fact that they lacked any real substance. If brains were dynamite, most of them couldn’t blow their nose. There were always exceptions. Old souls that knew how to converse about more than just Rhi-Rhi’s new album or T-Swizzle’s latest boyfriend. Those younger men wanted more than sugar daddies. Though, I still couldn’t imagine having enough in common with someone who hadn’t even been alive during the original run of Friends.

It wasn’t that I couldn’t get a date. Even close to forty, I was still cute. Not as attractive as I was at twenty, but I wasn’t a hunchback or anything. My deep green eyes matched my red hair, which I kept cropped short to avoid the bozo-clown-realness it would become if left to grow-out. I was tall and still decently shaped, a little thicker in some places than I’d prefer, but that came with age. At least, that’s what I told myself. I had a good understanding of where that put me in the queer hierarchy. Guys would still bang me; they just wouldn’t brag about it anymore.

Admittedly, the realization that I was no longer prime real estate took some getting used to. Before Dustin, I had been a penthouse in Manhattan, but after fifteen years in couple-town, I was shocked to discover I was now a brownstone in Queens. Next stop? Condemned building in Jersey!

That being said, I was optimistic about my life, even if it meant spending it alone.

“The ship is huge,” Sapphire was still talking. “You won’t even really have to see each other. There are also excursions at every port: zip-lining, snorkeling, hikes, surfing. Come on. You can orbit around each other for ten days without committing a violent felony.”

“Great, so I can spend the entire time by myself?”

“There’s going to be thousands of people on this ship. It’s a floating city. If you’re so worried about being by yourself, you could always try making friends.”

“You’ve known me for twenty years. Am I the type of person who makes friends?”

I was about to find out.

 

About the Author

This is Patrick Benjamin’s second novel. He was excited to try his hand at something lighter and more humorous than his debut novel (The Road Between). Patrick can most often be found spending quiet evenings at home with his husband, Jarrett and his puppy, Dax. When he’s not writing, Patrick can often be seen performing on stage as his glamorous drag persona Tequila Mockingbird. He also volunteers on the Board of Directors of a non-profit organization that has proudly served the LGBTQ2S+ community for 45 years.

 

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RELEASE BLITZ: “All Screwed Up” by Beth Bolden & Brittany Cournoyer. $15.00 Amazon Gift Card Giveaway included. See entry link below:

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: All Screwed Up

Author: Beth Bolden & Brittany Cournoyer

Publisher: Self-Published

Cover Artist: Cate Ashwood Designs

Release Date: November 6, 2020

Genre/s: Contemporary m/m romantic comedy

Trope: Enemies to lovers

Themes: Starting over, learning to work together

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length: 55 000 words

It is a standalone story.

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All’s fair in love and remodeling.

Blurb

Griffin Caldwell can’t wait to make a fresh start: new job, new town, new house. He’s even realized the lifelong dream of owning his own home. Except when he arrives, nothing is what he expected, and Griffin’s celebration turns from triumphant to terrible.

Not only is his “cute bungalow” a derelict heap, it needs major remodeling work to be livable. And it turns out there’s only one person in town who’s even willing to commit to the project.

The first time David Webber talks to Griffin about his disaster zone of a house, he’d like nothing better than to hang up the phone. But he’s stuck. All his grumpy behavior has gotten him is a whole stack of bad reviews online and no clients.

From the moment they collide over a busted toilet, sparks and snark fly. The only thing that might be hotter than their mutual animosity is their intense chemistry.

Neither of them wants to admit it at first but as the project evolves and their lives intertwine, maybe what they’re working on isn’t just a house. It might even be proof that a caring partnership can build a strong, long-lasting foundation–and an even fiercer love.

Excerpt

“What are you doing?” he asked when he stepped inside and spotted David ripping into a wall.

“Baking a cake,” he responded dryly before muttering to himself, “what does it freaking look like I’m doing? Knitting a damn sweater?”

“What flavor?” Griffin asked, choosing not to respond to the rest.

“The best flavor—chocolate.”

“I beg to differ. Chocolate is good, but nothing beats a super moist red-velvet cake with delicious cream cheese frosting.”

David stared at him, crowbar in one hand, sledgehammer in the other. “Are you saying chocolate cake can’t be moist? Because if so, you’re having the wrong cake.”

“No, not at all. I’ve had some decent chocolate cake. It’s just more dense than other flavors.”

David snorted. “Was there anything else you needed? Or did you just stop by to tell me my choice in cake is dense?”

Griffin crossed his arms over his chest. “You brought up the cake conversation, not me. All I did was ask what you were doing.”

David sighed and looked toward the sagging ceiling, as if searching for a way to respond to Griffin. The ceiling was another thing that had given up in that house. The entire thing looked like it’d just had enough standing up in the battle against the elements, animals, and trespassers. And had definitely gotten tired of doing so alone—since it’d sat empty for so long. It’d given up, finally waving the white flag as tree roots took over and the crushing weight of snow had caused certain parts to cave in. The thought of seeing the house in such despair and feeling the sadness among the walls hurt Griffin’s heart, and he hoped all the time, money, and arguments with David were worth breathing new life into the house. It deserved a chance to shine in all its glory, and even though it didn’t look like much now, the bones were still solid. It just needed some love.

“When I get asked a question where the answer is obvious, I can’t help but respond with sarcasm.”

“What was that?” Griffin asked, startled by David’s voice. He’d been so lost in thought about his depressing home that he’d forgotten he was in the middle of a conversation with David.

David sighed loudly and muttered under his breath again. “Did you need something? I’m a bit busy here.”

He waved his arm around the room, the one Griffin intended to be his master bedroom, to indicate the piles of drywall he’d ripped down.

“Just wondering if you need any help.”

“We’ve already had this conversation more than once, Griffin. Right now, it’s best if you stay out of the way until I have the basic demolition finished.”

Griffin pursed his lips as he tried not to stare at the way Griffin’s sweaty T-shirt clung to him like a second skin and his jeans hugged his thick thighs like they were drawn on him. Jesus. He could crack walnuts with those thighs.

Even though it was still fairly early in the morning, the sun was already high in the sky and the humidity was even higher. And just walking outside to collect the morning paper would cause sweat to bead on your upper lip and temples. And while Griffin hated it, he had to give his thanks to the weather gods since David had taken his shirt off more than once while doing work. And Griffin couldn’t help but accept the gifts in the form of his bulging, sweating muscles, eagerly. It’d be rude not to, after all.

About the Authors

Beth Bolden

A lifelong Oregonian, Beth has just recently moved to North Carolina with her supportive husband and their sweet kitten, Earl Grey. Beth still believes in Keeping Portland Weird, and intends to be just as weird in Raleigh.

Beth has been writing practically since she learned the alphabet. Unfortunately, her first foray into novel writing, titled Big Bear with Sparkly Earrings, wasn’t a bestseller, but hope springs eternal. She’s published twenty novels and six novellas.

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Brittany Cournoyer

Brittany was born in Enterprise, Alabama and moved to a small town in Indiana when she was thirteen. And, even though the town is named Kokomo, it’s nothing like the Beach Boys song. During her free time, she loves to read amazing books, watch mindless television, and spend time with family and loved ones. Oh, and squeeze in writing some time throughout the day as well. She is also the mom to an adorable, yet precocious, Border Collie named Delilah. When not doing any of those fun-filled activities, she works at a hospital as a switchboard operator.

Author Links

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Instagram | Newsletter Sign-up | Facebook group

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RELEASE BLITZ: “Sort of Dead” by Rob Rosen. Rafflecopter Giveaway Included! See entry link below:

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Sort of Dead

Author: Rob Rosen

Publisher: JMS Books

Cover Artist: Written Ink Designs

Release Date: October 31, 2020

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

M/M Romantic Comedy, M/M Mystery

Trope/s: Ghost story

Themes: Redemption, unfinished business

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length: 65 200 words/ 182 pages

It is a standalone story.

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Buy Links

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Because sometimes it takes dying to have the time of your life.

Blurb

Nord wakes up to find himself sort of dead. Well, that is to say, he’s dead, alright—murdered, in fact—but not in heaven, at least not yet. In this limbo-like state, he meets Max and learns that everyone there is waiting for the final poof, hopefully to a better place. Only, with unfinished business back in the real world, like bringing his murderer to justice, Nord’s poof is nowhere in sight. And so, he and Max set out to find the killer and make things right again. Of course, that’s easier said than done when you’re nothing more than a couple of randy spirits.

With the help of Voltan, a diminutive mystic with a predilection for turbans, and Clark, a nerdy computer geek eager to shed his loner past, plus a ghost accountant, Bruce, Bruce’s drag queen brother, Eve O’Destruction, and Nord’s kick-ass mom, the newly enamored pair set out to hunt for the murderer, and are quick to discover how much they’d taken for granted when they were alive.

In this hysterically funny and often poignant mystery about fate and love and family, it ultimately takes dying for our heroes to have the times of their lives.

Excerpt

I woke with a start and stared up at the ceiling. “That’s weird,” I said. “Where’s my ceiling fan?” I blinked. I blinked again. I thought to make it a trio, but then realized I hadn’t blinked the first two times—which is to say, I blinked but there wasn’t that whole ceiling, no ceiling, ceiling, no ceiling thing, which is what happens when I blink and I’m staring up at my ceiling. Not that what I was staring at was a ceiling to begin with, but still.

I continued staring up. I supposed what I was staring at was white, given that it looked white, and I supposed that what I was staring up at was a ceiling because, give or take, most ceilings are white, mine included, but the white I was staring at sort of shifted around a bit. FYI, my ceiling didn’t do that, except perhaps when I was drunk.

“Did I get drunk last night?” I asked myself. Only, I couldn’t remember last night. I couldn’t remember going to sleep, even. I remembered waking, but that was it. And I didn’t feel drunk. In fact, I felt great. Better than great, actually. Blissful would’ve been a good word for it. Light, too. As if I’d been weighed down and now I wasn’t. “Free at last, free at last, thank God almighty—”

“You can try, but He doesn’t seem to listen,” I heard, then jumped in place.

My head whipped right. Nothing. My head whipped left. “Um, how did you get in my…” My what? This wasn’t my room. This wasn’t my ceiling. Was what was above me a ceiling anyway? “Wait, who doesn’t seem to listen?”

The man to my left grinned. He looked about my age, early thirties, give or take, nice looking guy, too. Very Bradley Cooper like, stunning blue eyes and all. He was prone. He was lying next to me. He was naked. I stared down at my body. I, too, was naked. I continued staring down. There was no bed. There was my body, there was his body, there was that shifting white. “Don’t freak out,” he said.

My heart wasn’t madly pumping in my chest and I wasn’t sweating, but I felt like I was freaking out, nonetheless. Especially because my heart should’ve been madly pumping and I generally start to sweat when I’m freaking the fuck out. All that is to say, I was FREAKING THE FUCK OUT!

“I’m freaking the fuck out!” I shouted his way. “Who are you? Where are we? Why is the wall and ceiling and floor shifting?” I blinked. It felt like I blinked, but I didn’t get the right effect again. “And where are my fucking eyelids?”

“You get used to that,” he replied.

I sat up. That is to say, I tried to sit up. Only, I didn’t think I was actually lying down, and you can’t sit up if you’re not lying down to begin with. “Stop the ride,” I squeaked out, “I want to get off.”

I was still staring at him. He was still grinning. “Give it a minute,” he said. “Takes about five minutes for all of it to right itself.”

“All? What all?” I continued staring. It seemed like a minute went by. I was no longer lying there. I was standing. He was standing next to me. The not-a-ceiling was now not-a-wall, and it was still shifting, and I was, duh, still freaking out, fuck and all.

“You were lying down before you got here, so it seemed like you were lying down when you arrived. Get it?” He said it very comfortingly. I felt less than comforted. Very.

“Dude—”

“Max.” He held out his hand. I shook it. I felt his hand in mine. There was indeed comfort in that.

“Nordstrom,” I said.

He laughed. He had a nice laugh. He had a nice grin. Max seemed nice. “Did your mom have a penchant for upscale shopping?”

I shook my head. “I was born in one. And my mom had a penchant for making sure I was teased well into adulthood.” I let go of his hand. “Nord. My friends call me Nord. Otherwise, they don’t get a Christmas present.”

About the Author

Rob Rosen is the a author of the award-winning novels Sparkle: The Queerest Book You’ll Ever Love, Divas Las Vegas, Hot Lava, Southern Fried, Queerwolf, Vamp, Queens of the Apocalypse, Creature Comfort, Fate, Midlife Crisis, Fierce, And God Belched, Mary, Queen of Scotch, Ted of the d’Urbervilles, and Sort of Dead, and editor of the anthologies Lust in Time, Men of the Manor, Best Gay Erotica 2015, and Best Gay Erotica of the Year, Volumes 1, 2, 3 and 4.

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RELEASE BLITZ: “Pros & Cons” by A.E. Wasp

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Pros & Cons of Desire (Pros & Cons 3)

Author: A. E. Wasp

Publisher: Self-Published

Cover Artist: Angsty G

Release Date: February 20, 2020

Genre/s: Contemporary romantic suspense/comedy

Trope/s: Law officer/thief. A gay cross of Charlie’s Angels and Leverage

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length: 65 000 words

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Amazon US | Amazon UK

Five Men. Five changes for redemption. One things for sure, these guys are no angels.

Blurb

Two jobs down, three to go, and job #3 is mine. My name is Ridge Pfeiffer. I’m a dirt poor jewel thief from the wrong side of the tracks, and I don’t play well with others.

Theoretically, the deal works like this. I do the job Charlie planned for me and Miranda erases my past, makes my biggest problems go away. Too bad my biggest problem is the one thing I don’t want to go away: Diplomatic Security Agent Davis Ethan.

When Davis caught me breaking into a safe during job #2, I should have ended up in jail. instead, I ended up in his bed. Rich, gorgeous, and privileged, the only thing we have in common is a love of beautiful lingerie and beautiful men. He’s everything I hate, everything I want, and he could destroy me with a word.

There are a hundred red flags surrounding this job, I should walk away and take my chances, but I’m going to do it anyway. Anything to buy me one more night with Davis.

One more job, one more night, and then I’ll leave for good.

Excerpt

“You know we don’t have to meet in places like this. I’m willing to spring for some better accommodations.” I said, stripping the nylon bedspread off and tossing it to the floor. I grimaced at the feel of it between my fingers.

“I like this,” Ridge said. “It’s perfect.”

“Perfect for what?”

“Perfect for cheap, meaningless sex. And that’s all this is.”

I wanted to argue with him, but I also wanted to get laid, and I knew pointing out that we both knew this was more would only chase him away. “Can’t we have expensive meaningless sex? I’ve done it in five-star resorts. All I’m asking for is a place with nice sheets and room service. And a mattress that may have been cleaned sometime in the last twenty years.”

Ridge pushed me against the wall. “We could, Rich Boy, but this is my world and if you want me, you get my world with it.”

“Maybe we could chip in and meet in the middle.”

“Maybe I like seeing the pretty rich boy begging for someone like me in this run down pay-by-the-hour motel.”

“Do you like it here?”

“No, I don’t like it. But this is where we are.”

We didn’t normally do this during the day. Dust motes danced in the light rimming the curtains. The room was dark and smelled of things I’d rather not think about.

Except for him. He smelled amazing. Whatever soap or shampoo or cologne he wore carried the scent of oranges and tk.

“Wait, how did you…why did you call me a rich boy?” How did he know?

“Really? I could smell it on you. Literally smell it on you. Your fucking Ambre Topkapi cologne, which sounds like a Pokemon for chrissake. You have perfect teeth, perfect haircut. Manicure, pedicure. You’ve never missed a meal in your life. You don’t live anywhere in the real world. Do you even know any normal people?”

“Everybody I work with.”

“And are you friends with them?”

I wasn’t. Not really. I tried but there was this barrier between us. Really, what could I say about kids and wives and bills?

He slid his hand down the back of my trousers and grabbed my ass. His grip turned into a caress as his fingers brushed across the silky lace and he lost his train of thought. “Are these the same ones?”

“Yes.” I said leaning my shoulders back against the wall and grinning at it. “The purple and black lace La Perla.” He loved those. They might not be the most expensive pair I owned, but they were certainly the most effective at getting him to fuck me through the mattress the way I loved. I had another surprised for him as well, but I’d let him discover that on his own time.

“Anyway. Stop distracting me.” His long fingers wrapped around my wrists, pinning them to the wall. His thumb caressed my pulse point, his thigh pressed between my legs and I couldn’t stop myself from grinding down against it.

“I’m distracting you?”

“Mmm hmmm,” he said mouthing along my neck. I tilted my chin up to give him better access. “You never talk about normal thing. You never complain about car repairs, the cost of anything.” His thumb pressed into the palm of my hand. “This watch?” he pulled away from me far enough to dangle my own watch in front of my eye. I hadn’t even felt him taking it off me.

“Clever boy,” I said, kissing him in reward.

His fox-like grin short-circuited my brain. In my defense, anyone would find thinking impossible with an angel rubbing up against them. I was surprised I could still breathe. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”

“Asshole,” I said, grinning back at him. I snatched it out of his hand, Knowing I was able to only because he let me was incredible arousing. I’d talk to my therapist about that another day.

“You’re the asshole, wearing a thirty-thousand dollar watch in a neighborhood like this.”

“Yeah, but—”

“But who would know? Everyone. We know how much everything costs in a way you never will.”

“We?”

“Poor people, Davey. We know the price of everything down to the penny because we have to.”

“Oh really?”

Really.

I jerked my chin at the shopping bag I had dropped at the doorway. “Then how about a quiz?” My brain came back on line as he backed away from me.

“What kind of a test?”

“I got you a present.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to.”

Laughing at his suspicious look, I handed him the bag.

He took it gingerly, holding it between two fingers much in the same way I had held the bedspread. “What is it?”

“It’s a present.”

“What is it?”

“Open it and see. That’s usually how presents work.”

About the Author

A dreamer and an idealist, Amy writes about people finding connection in a world that can seem lonely and magic in a world that can seem all too mundane. She invites readers into her characters’ lives and worlds when they are their most vulnerable, their most human, living with the same hopes and fears we all have. An avid traveler who has lived in big cities and small towns in four different continents, Amy has found that time and distance are no barriers to love. She invites her readers to reach out and share how her characters have touched their lives or how the found families they have gathered around them have shaped their worlds.

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