BOOK BLAST: “Nox” by Adrienne Wilder. Rafflecopter Giveaway Included!

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: NOX

Author: Adrienne Wilder

Publisher: Self-Published

Cover Artist: Adrienne Wilder

Genre/s: Science fiction, M/M Romance, dark fantasy

Length: 138 000 words/514 pages

Heat Rating: 5 flames

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One is a dying man. The other died to live.

Blurb

A nude man invades Luca Suarez’s home and protects him from creatures who cannot exist.

Creatures hunting him.

The stranger can’t tell Luca why. He can’t even tell Luca his name.

He remembers nothing until the moment he sees Luca.

The only hint Luca has to the stranger’s identity is a tattoo on his wrist: N o X

Nox doesn’t know who he is, but he’s sure of three things, his memory loss is temporary, the monsters chasing Luca are called Anubis, and his Alpha, Koda, sent Nox to protect him.

There’s just one problem… Koda is Luca’s brother who was murdered five years ago.

With each passing hour, Nox fills in the pieces painting an impossible truth. And with each passing hour, both men find themselves unexplainably attracted to each other.

Something Luca is willing to embrace because he has nothing left to lose.

And one Nox can’t let happen because it could get Luca killed.

 

Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US | Amazon UK

 

 

Excerpt

Fifteen minutes under a stream of hot water sounded perfect.

A basket wrapped in translucent cellophane sat on the pink countertop of the exterior vanity. Other than lubricant, Luca had no idea what the other tiny bottles could be, but the little foil squares were self-explanatory.

He stepped into the bathroom off to the right and braced as he turned on the lights. White tile, white tub, plain white toilet, pink towels with red hearts, pink shower curtain. At least they spared the room any permanent scars.

Luca closed the door and gripped the hem of his shirt.

Nox’s voice came from the other side of the door. “I called for pizza, it should be here by the time you’re out.” Then the door opened. Luca spun around.

Nox wore nothing, leaving every curve of muscle, every ripple of perfection, every inch of intimidating cock, bare.

God, that hooker had been right.

There were only so many things a guy standing around naked could mean. Would Nox expect something like that? He’d saved Luca’s life. And with that kind of debt could Luca even tell him no?

Worse, did he want to?

Did he want to know what it felt like to be touched, to be kissed, to be tasted and do all those things to another person in equal amounts?

The idea teased his insides until his balls pulled tight and his cock threatened to swell.

Luca jerked his gaze back up.

“Your clothes.” Nox held out a hand.

Luca pulled the edge of his shirt lower. “What about them?”

“Give them to me so I can lay them on the heater to dry.”

“It’s okay, they can just hang in here.”

“They won’t dry in here.” Nox was right. Luca knew he was right. And since these were the only clothes he had….

Luca gave Nox his back and peeled off his shirt. He set it on the sink and kicked off his shoes, then unbuttoned his pants. He froze with his hands on the waist of his jeans.

Nox pulled Luca around. The man’s presence, the rich musk and spice of his skin, the heat radiating from his body rushed over Luca, sucking the air from his lungs. Nox lowered his head, parted his lips and inhaled, carrying away Luca’s exhale. Nox moved to Luca’s cheek, his neck. There his breath heated Luca’s skin. Nox tilted Luca’s head back and followed the column of his neck with another deep inhale.

Luca’s heart skittered in his chest. “What…what are you doing?”

“Smelling you.”

Smelling him.

“Why?” Luca leaned away only to have Nox move closer. So close his cock brushed Luca’s hip.

Nox swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. He made another lap, huffing in quick short breaths rather than long slow ones. Nox loosened his grip. He cupped the back of Luca’s head and made circles on his arm with his thumb.

For several long moments, Nox stood there, then slowly he raised his gaze. “You’re sick.”

Luca’s stomach dropped.

Nox seemed to catch himself. He let Luca go and retreated. “I’m sorry, that was…” He turned.

“Leukemia.” Luca had no idea why he said it. Nox was right, it was none of his business. Even if he could smell the disease.

Could other people smell Luca’s cancer? He’d never even considered the idea.

Nox turned back around but stayed at the door. “Are you getting treatment?”

“Not this time.”

The muscles across Nox’s shoulders tensed, and he balled up his hands.

Luca shrugged. “I’ve had it twice before. Treatment isn’t an option this time.” Luca gave Nox his back again and stripped off the rest of his clothes. He left them on the sink, climbed in the tub, and closed the curtain.

Nox was a momentary blur behind the sheet of gaudy pink plastic, then he closed the door.

 

About the Author

I am a writer of contemporary and speculative fiction and artist of all things monster. I live to create new worlds and the people in them. Several of my books have been best sellers both nationally and internationally. I have also been a finalist in the LAMDA awards, the “Oscars” of gay literary works.

I do my best to write original stories with powerful characters and emotion as well as a fast-paced plot. My goal isn’t just to deliver a good story but to take the reader into the story and let them experience the characters as if they are right there with them.

While almost all my books have a romantic element, I will be the first to admit, they are not traditional romance. In fact, I’d like to think there is nothing traditional about them. And the stories I paint are done so way outside the lines of traditional genres.

One of my favorite things to do as a writer is push the boundaries of what makes a story and to deliver the unexpected and maybe even change the perspective of the reader.

My characters are more often than not, beautifully flawed, not always the good guy, and make mistakes. Their stories will take dark turns which, in the end, make the light at the end of the tunnel all the brighter.

If you’re looking for something different, exciting, and unique, my books are for you.

Check out my website for updates and how to contact me. I love hearing from fans.

 

Author Links

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Newsletter Sign-up | Patreon

 

Giveaway

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BLOG TOUR: “The Hierophant’s Daughter” by M. F. Sullivan. $10 Amazon Gift Card Giveaway Included!

BLOG TOUR

Book Title: The Hierophant’s Daughter (The Disgraced Martyr Trilogy)

Author: M. F. Sullivan

Publisher: Painted Blind Publishing

Cover Artist: Nuno Moreira

Genre/s: LGBTQ Cyberpunk/Horror, Sci-fi/Fantasy (Adult)

Heat Rating: 1 flame (A romantic relationship between the couple but no intimate scenes or sexual situations are described in the book. The book fades-to-black before any love scene).

Length: approx. 100k words/ 298 paperback pages

It is Book I of The Disgraced Martyr Trilogy

Release Date: May 19, 2019

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Dive into the first volume of a bleak cyberpunk tahgmahr you can’t afford to miss. What would you sacrifice to survive?

 

Blurb

By 4042 CE, the Hierophant and his Church have risen to political dominance with his cannibalistic army of genetically modified humans: martyrs. In an era when mankind’s intergenerational cold wars against their long-lived predators seem close to running hot, the Holy Family is poised on the verge of complete planetary control. It will take a miracle to save humanity from extinction.

It will also take a miracle to resurrect the wife of 331-year-old General Dominia di Mephitoli, who defects during martyr year 1997 AL in search of Lazarus, the one man rumored to bring life to the dead. With the Hierophant’s Project Black Sun looming over her head, she has little choice but to believe this Lazarus is really all her new friends say he is–assuming he exists at all–and that these companions of hers are really able to help her. From the foulmouthed Japanese prostitute with a few secrets of her own to the outright sapient dog who seems to judge every move, they don’t inspire a lot of confidence, but the General has to take the help she can get.

After all, Dominia is no ordinary martyr. She is THE HIEROPHANT’S DAUGHTER, and her Father won’t let her switch sides without a fight. Not when she still has so much to learn.

The dystopic first entry of an epic cyberpunk trilogy, THE HIEROPHANT’S DAUGHTER is a horror/sci-fi adventure sure to delight and inspire adult readers of all stripes.

 

Buy Links

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Barnes & Noble

 

Excerpt

The Flight of the Governess

The Disgraced Governess of the United Front was blind in her right eye. Was that blood in the left, or was it damaged, too? The crash ringing in her ears kept her from thinking straight. Of course her left eye still worked: it worked well enough to prevent her from careening into the trees through which she plunged. Yet, for the tinted flecks of reality sometimes twinkling between crimson streaks, she could only imagine her total blindness with existential horror. Would the protein heal the damage? How severely was her left eye wounded? What about the one she knew to be blind—was it salvageable? Ichigawa could check, if she ever made it to the shore.

She couldn’t afford to think that way. It was a matter of “when,” not of “if.” She would never succumb. Neither could car accident, nor baying hounds, nor the Hierophant himself keep her from her goal. She had fourteen miles to the ship that would whisk her across the Pacific and deliver her to the relative safety of the Risen Sun. Then the Lazarene ceremony would be less than a week away. Cassandra’s diamond beat against her heart to pump it into double time, and with each double beat, she thought of her wife (smiling, laughing, weeping when she thought herself alone) and ran faster. A lucky thing the Governess wasn’t human! Though, had she remained human, she’d have died three centuries ago in some ghetto if she’d lived past twenty without becoming supper. Might have been the easier fate, or so she lamented each time her mind replayed the crash of the passenger-laden tanque at fifth gear against the side of their small car. How much she might have avoided!

Of course—then she never would have known Cassandra. That made all this a reasonable trade. Cold rain softened the black earth to the greedy consistency of clay, but her body served where her eyes failed. The darkness was normally no trouble, but now she squinted while she ran and, under sway of a dangerous adrenaline high, was side-swiped by more than one twisting branch. The old road that was her immediate goal, Highway 128, would lead her to the coast of her favorite Jurisdiction, but she now had to rediscover that golden path after the crash’s diversion. In an effort to evade her pursuers, she had torn into a pear orchard without thought of their canine companions. Not that the soldiers of the Americas kept companions like Europa’s nobles. These dogs were tools. Well-honed, organic death machines with a cultivated taste for living flesh, whether martyr or human. The dogs understood something that most had forgotten: the difference between the two was untenable. Martyrs could tell themselves they were superior for an eternity, but it wouldn’t change the fact that the so-called master race and the humans they consumed were the same species.

That was not why Cassandra had died, but it hadn’t contributed to their marital bliss. And now, knowing what she did of the Hierophant’s intentions—thinking, always, what Cassandra would have said—the Governess pretended she was driven by that ghost, and not by her own hopelessness. Without the self-delusion, she was a victim to a great many ugly thoughts, foremost among them being: Was the fear of life after her wife’s death worth such disgrace? A death sentence? Few appreciated what little difference there was between human and martyr, and fewer cared, because caring was fatal. But she was a part of the Holy Family. Shouldn’t that have been all that mattered? Stunning how, after three centuries, she deserved to be treated no better than a human. Then again, there was nothing quite like resignation from one’s post to fall in her Father’s estimate. Partly, he was upset by her poor timing—she did stand him up at some stupid press event, but only because she hoped it would keep everybody occupied while she got away. In that moment, she couldn’t even remember what it was. Dedicating a bridge? Probably. Her poor head, what did the nature of the event matter when she was close to death?

That lapse in social graces was not the reason for this hunt. He understood that more lay behind her resignation than a keening for country life. Even before he called her while she and the others took the tanque to the coast, he must have known. Just like he must have known the crash was seconds from happening while he chatted away, and that the humans in her company, already nervous to be within a foot of the fleeing Governess, were doomed.

Of the many people remaining on Earth, those lumped into the group of “human” were at constant risk of death, mutilation, or—far worse—unwilling martyrdom. This meant those humans lucky enough to avoid city-living segregation went to great lengths to keep their private properties secure. Not only houses but stables. The Disgraced Governess found this to be true of the stables into which she might have stumbled and electrocuted herself were it not for the bug zaps of rain against the threshold’s surface. Her mind made an instinctive turn toward prayer for the friendliness of the humans in the nearby farmhouse—an operation she was quick to abort. In those seconds (minutes?) since the crash, she’d succeeded in reconstructing the tinted windows of the tanque and a glimpse of silver ram’s horns: the Lamb lurked close enough to hear her like she spoke into his ear. It was too much to ask that he be on her side tonight.

Granted, the dogs of the Lamb were far closer, and far more decisive about where their loyalties stood. One hound sank its teeth into her ankle, and she, crying out, kicked the beast into its closest partner with a crunch. Slower dogs snarled outrage in the distance while the Disgraced Governess ran to the farmhouse caught in her left periphery. The prudent owners, to her frustration, shuttered their windows at night. Nevertheless, she smashed her fist against the one part of the house that protruded: the doorbell required by the Hierophant’s “fair play” dictatum allowing the use of electronic barriers. As the humans inside stumbled out of bed in response to her buzzing, the Disgraced Governess unholstered her antique revolver and unloaded two rounds into the recovered canines before they were upon her. The discharge wasn’t a tip-off she wanted to give to the Lamb and her other pursuers, but it hastened the response of the sleeping farmers as the intercom crackled to life.

“Who is it?” A woman’s voice, quivering with an edge of panic.

“My name is Dominia di Mephitoli: I’m the former Governess of the United Front, and I need to borrow a horse. Please. Don’t let me in. Just drop the threshold on your stables.”

“The Governess? I’m sorry, I don’t understand. The Dominia di Mephitoli, really? The martyr?”

“Yes, yes, please. I need a horse now.” Another dog careened around the corner and leapt over the bodies of his comrades with such grace that she wasted her third round in the corpses. Two more put it down as she shouted into the receiver. “I can’t transfer you any credits because they’ve frozen my Halcyon account, but I’ll leave you twenty pieces of silver if you drop the threshold and loan me a horse. You can reclaim it at the docks off Bay Street, in the township of Sienna. Please! He’ll kill me.”

“And he’ll be sure to kill us for helping you.”

“Tell him I threatened you. Tell him I tricked you! Anything. Just help me get away!”

“He’ll never believe what we say. He’ll kill me, my husband, our children. We can’t.”

“Oh, please. An act of mercy for a dying woman. Please, help me leave. I can give you the name of a man in San Valentino who can shelter you and give you passage abroad.”

“There’s no time to go so far south. Not as long as it takes to get across the city.”

It had been ten seconds since she’d heard the last dog. That worried her. With her revolver at the ready, she scanned the area for something more than the quivering roulette blotches swelling in her right eye. Nothing but the dead animals. “He’ll kill you either way. For talking to me, and not keeping me occupied until his arrival. For knowing that there’s disarray in his perfect land. He’ll find a reason, even if it only makes sense to him.”

The steady beat of rain pattered out a passive answer. On the verge of giving up, Dominia stepped back to ready herself for a fight—and the house’s threshold dropped with an electric pop. The absent mauve shimmer left the façade bare. How rare to see a country place without its barrier! A strange thing. Stranger for the front door to open; she’d only expected them to do away with the threshold on the stables.

But, rather than the housewife she’d anticipated, there stood the Hierophant. Several bleak notions clicked into place.

One immaculate gray brow arched. “Now, Dominia, that’s hardly fair. Knowledge of your disgrace isn’t why I’ll kill them. The whole world will know of it tomorrow morning. You embarrassed me by sending your resignation, rather than making the appearance I asked of you, so it is only fair I embarrass you by rejecting your resignation and firing you publicly. No, my dear. I will kill these fine people to upset you. In fact, Mr. McLintock is already dead in the attic. A mite too brave. Of course”—he winked, and whispered in conspiracy—“don’t tell them that.”

“How did you know I’d come here?”

“Such an odd spurt of rain tonight. Of all your Jurisdictions, this one is usually so dry this time of year! Won’t you come in for tea? Mrs. McLintock brews a fine pot. But put that gun away. You’re humiliating yourself. And me.”

 

About the Author

M.F. Sullivan is the author of Delilah, My Woman, The Lightning Stenography Device, and a slew of plays in addition to the Trilogy. She lives in Ashland, Oregon with her boyfriend and her cat, where she attends the local Shakespeare Festival and experiments with the occult.

Find more information about her work (and plenty of free essays) here.

 

 

Author Links

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Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win one of two signed hardback copies of The Hierophant’s Daughter

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Release Blitz: Saving Jax by L.M. Brown

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Saving Jax

Author: L.M. Brown

Publisher: Self-published

Cover Artist: Sheri McGathy

Genre/s: MM romance, sci-fi, ménage, MPreg

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 79 000 words/ 197 pages

It is a standalone story.

Release Date: December 1, 2018

Tagline

To save his unborn babies, he must put his trust in strangers.

Blurb

Jax has made mistakes in his life, the biggest of which was falling for Lyndon. His love died when Lyndon refused to claim him as his mate after Jax discovered he was pregnant. His feelings turned to hate when his babies were stolen from his care the day they were born.

Reliant on Lyndon for the cream he needs to survive, Jax does everything he can to keep him happy and he lives for the day when he will be reunited with his children.

When Jax discovers he is pregnant for a second time, he is terrified his second litter will be taken from him, too.

Ty is a dual-gendered feline who dreams of carrying his own babies one day. If they are fathered by Cal, the sexy feline he feeds from, it would be even better. Ty’s parents have other ideas. They don’t wish the public to know that their high-born son is dual-gendered, and arrange for a mating festival to take place so Ty can choose a dual-gendered mate of his own.

Although Ty has no intention of submitting to his parents’ wishes, something about Jax draws Ty to him and when he and Cal discover Jax’s secret, they know they must help.

Ty and Cal offer Jax a way to escape Lyndon’s clutches, but Jax knows almost nothing about the two felines who have offered to claim him.

The stakes have never been higher and Jax must learn to trust again, or risk losing everything.

Excerpt

Ty helped Jax into the boat, and once they were seated, Cal joined them and rowed them out to the middle of the lake.

“Privacy at last,” Cal said as he pulled in the oars. “Though you could have picked somewhere away from the water.”

Ty snorted. “And have Lyndon lingering around?”

“Perhaps not.”

Jax frowned. “Are you saying you deliberately ditched Lyndon?”

“We are,” Cal confirmed. “We wanted to talk to you privately.”

“You did?”

“Yes,” Ty said.

“What about? It’s my uncle you’d need to speak to if you wanted to claim me as your mate.”

Ty gave another snort, this one even louder than the first. “Don’t you get a say in the matter?”

Jax trailed his fingers in the water. “Not really.”

“Why not? It’s your life?” Cal said.

Jax sighed, but didn’t say anything. It hadn’t been his life for a long time, but how could these two felines possibly understand that?

Ty took hold of Jax’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Jax, we know you’re in some kind of trouble, but we can’t help you if we don’t know what the problem is?”

Jax finally looked at Ty and saw nothing but compassion in his amber eyes. “You should choose another mate, not me,” he whispered.

Cal slowly inched over from his seat and sat at Jax’s feet. “Ty will choose whoever he wants. Take it from someone who knows. Now, why don’t you tell us what the issue is with Lyndon?”

“There is no issue.”

“I disagree,” Cal argued. “I saw him fucking you in the garden earlier. Does your uncle know you’re not a virgin?”

The world swayed around him and Jax thought he might throw up. Then a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders, and he leaned into Ty, the strong steady heartbeat of the feline next to him helping to keep him calm.

“Yes, my uncle knows,” he whispered. “But he doesn’t know Lyndon is the one who has fucked me.”

“He doesn’t?” Cal asked.

Jax shook his head and toyed with the hem of his kilt. He shivered, even though he had put on his warmer cloak before they’d begun their walk. His uncle did know about Lyndon. He just refused to believe it.

“Tell us what happened,” Ty encouraged. “We want to help you.”

“Why?” Jax asked. “You don’t know me. I’m just a stranger who’s been paraded in front of you because I happen to have both female and male genitals.”

Cal took his hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “Because what I saw in your face when Lyndon walked away this afternoon was not the face of a feline in love with his devoted servant.”

Jax gave a bitter laugh that he quickly tried to suppress. “I haven’t been in love with Lyndon for a long time, if I ever was.”

“Your uncle seems to think a lot of him,” Ty commented.

“That’s because he doesn’t know the real Lyndon,” Jax replied. “If he knew what he was really like… oh, who am I fooling? He’ll never believe a bad word about him.”

“Why not?” Cal asked.

“Because Lyndon is my uncle’s primary food source, too,” Jax said.

“That’s no reason to believe him over his own nephew.”

Jax shrugged. “He won’t hear a thing said against him. Believe me, I learned that lesson the hard way.”

“Talk to us,” Ty urged.

Jax could tell he wasn’t going to get off this boat until he told them what they wanted to know. Perhaps he could give them an edited version they would accept.

About the Author

L.M. Brown is an English writer of gay romances and all male ménage romances.

She believes mermen live in the undiscovered areas of the ocean. She believes life exists on other planets. She believes in fairy tales, magic, and dreams.

Most of all, she believes in love.

Author Links

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Facebook

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