Release Blitz

Release Blitz: Merry Gentlemen by Josephine Myles

 

Buy Links: Smashwords
Length: 48,000 words
Cover Design: Harper by Design 
 

Blurb
’Tis the season of goodwill to all men… even the one who dumped you.

Riley MacDermott is going places. Managing the annual Bath Christmas Market—which involves long hours in the cold and a whole lot of hassle—will secure the promotion he needs to afford to move out of his noisy, top-floor flat. Where not even his balcony is safe from an aggressive seagull.

The last stallholder he expects to see is his ex. Riley never recovered from their break up, and five years on the old chemistry still sparkles. Shame they can’t seem to manage a simple chat without arguing.

Stan never wanted to leave the love of his life, but the pull of the woods was too strong—and Riley wouldn’t hear of leaving the city. Reconnecting is painful, but Stan still jumps at the chance to stay with his old flame during the Market. And damn the consequences.

As the weeks pass, the two grow closer than ever. But despite scorching sex and cozy intimacy, they both know they face a cold and lonely future. Unless they can figure out a compromise.

Warning: Contains sex in a shed, a seagull with a grudge, glamping, awful Secret Santa underwear, misuse of an ABBA song, and as many wood-related puns as the author thought she could get away with.


Excerpt
You could lose yourself in Stan’s eyes. Well, I could. They reminded me of sun-bleached denim, with a deeper indigo ring around the outside. They were the kind of eyes that spoke of hard work in the great outdoors, and if it hadn’t been for the fact they’d been just the same back when he’d slaved away as a housing officer, I’d believe they really had been lightened by the sun. His hair certainly had. I’d always thought of him as a dirty blond rather than a honey one.

I still thought of him as a dirty blond, although not because of the colour of his hair.

Before my brain could get hijacked by thoughts of just how dirty Stan could be, I recovered my manners and stuck my hand out.

“Stan. Fancy seeing you here. I had no idea. Really.”

Stan stared at my hand like I was offering him a slice of mouldy pizza. I was just about to snatch it back when he grabbed it and held on.

“Ri? You look… You haven’t changed. Not one bit.”

Normally I’d preen a little at a comment like that. Make some allusion to Botox—not that I had any desire to freeze the expression out of my forehead, as how would I cope if I couldn’t do my patented single-eyebrow raise?

But right now, with Stan holding my hand in his rough, calloused—oh my God, he had genuine, honest to goodness callouses!—paw, I found it hard to do anything other than fight down my body’s instinctive response to him. I wanted to hit him and I wanted to lick him all over, and I couldn’t bloody well figure out which urge was winning.

Actually, right now I needed to stop paying any attention to my body and concentrate on keeping my cool. Couldn’t have Stan seeing me ruffled.

“Well, you’ve definitely changed,” I said. “You’ve got that whole rugged, outdoorsy vibe working for you now.” I didn’t need to hide the fact I was checking him out, thank Christ, so I took my time drinking in the sight of him. “Going back to nature really does pay off, doesn’t it? Shit, you never bulked up this well in the gym. And you’re tanned in the winter, but not a streak of orange to be seen. It’s a modern day miracle. Hallelujah.”

“I don’t need to fake it,” Stan growled, tilting his head back to look down at me and making the most of his three-inch height advantage. It was his arrogant-bastard pose, and he bloody well knew I was a sucker for it because I’d once made the mistake of telling him. Never, ever let a toppy git know just how much they turn you on, or you’ll spend your whole bloody life in a state of perpetual turned-on-ness. Was that even a word? It was now.

“What happened to your hair?” I said, reaching out for a lock. “Totally hot, but aren’t you getting a bit old for the whole surfer look? And you’re way too landlocked, down in deepest, darkest Somersetshire.”

“Piss off, Ri,” Stan said, but there was no heat in his words. The heat was all in his eyes, beaming out and frying me like a laser beam. They’d find me later, nothing more than a pair of melted boot soles on the cobbles.

Was that angry heat or turned-on heat? Couldn’t figure it out on him either. I had to face it, we both had ample reason to be pissed off with each other, but five years was a long time to hold a grudge.

“Much as I’d love to get on my way, it’s actually my job to check up on you. See if there’s anything you need any help with. Lend a hand, you know.” Jesus, could I have made that sound any more like a come-on? Clearly my mouth was in cahoots with my dick rather than my brain. I bit the inside of my lower lip, just to show it who was boss.

But Stan just carried on staring at me, while the sun-warmed denim of his eyes frosted over.

“Right. Just your job.” Oh, that guttural Slovakian accent! After the best part of a decade of living in the UK, Stan’s had definitely mellowed compared to when we’d first met, but it was still sexy as hell. “I’ll make sure I let you know if there’s anything you can help me with.” He stepped a little closer then, and tucked both thumbs into the waistband of his combats, hands framing his package like I needed any reminding of what was hidden in there. Well, not so hidden. Whereas I was a grower, Stan was most definitely a show-er, meaning his tackle was almost as big flaccid as it was erect. Not that that was a disappointment. More of a relief, really. If he’d got any bigger when hard, I’d have had to make like a snake and dislocate my jaw before giving him a blowjob.

And I really didn’t need to be remembering blowing Stan right now.

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English through and through, Josephine Myles is addicted to tea and busy cultivating a reputation for eccentricity. She writes gay erotica and romance, but finds the erotica keeps cuddling up to the romance, and the romance keeps corrupting the erotica. Jo blames her rebellious muse but he never listens to her anyway, no matter how much she threatens him with a big stick. She’s beginning to suspect he enjoys it.

Jo’s novel Stuff won the 2014 Rainbow Award for Best Bisexual Romance, and her novella Merry Gentlemen won the 2014 Rainbow Award for Best Gay Romantic Comedy. She loves to be busy, and is currently having fun trying to work out how she is going to fit in her love of writing, dressmaking and attending cabaret shows in fabulous clothing around the demands of a preteen with special needs and an incessantly curious toddler.

Website and blog: josephinemyles.com/
Facebook: facebook.com/josephine.myles.author
Twitter: @JosephineMyles
Newsletter: eepurl.com/hrQ4s
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Super Short

#SuperShort

Don’t eat the bunnies

“Jonah, where are you?” I called as I approached the trunk of a fallen tree—his favorite spot in the forest behind our house. There was no sign of him. I glanced at my watch and squished my eyebrows together. Tilting my head back, I let out a yell. “We’re gonna be late.”

The sound of a breaking branch reached me, followed by rustling vegetation and running paws. A second later, a big wolf appeared in the clearing, leaped up on the trunk, and climbed to the top. It didn’t stop until it was directly above me. The sun illuminated its thick fur, making it glitter and shine in the light. It was breathtaking.

I looked up as it lowered its head, stretched out its tongue, and licked me, drenching my face with saliva.

“Yuck,” I laughed and scrunched up my nose. “Cut it out.” I reached up and scratched behind its ear. “You know I prefer real kisses.”

The wolf jumped down and landed gracefully next to me. He swept his tongue over my hand before he started shifting in front of my eyes. His form elongated, stretched, and grew, and soon he’d shed his wolf persona and stood before me in his human form. My darling Jonah. Naked as the day he was born and more magnificent than anyone I’d ever met.

I wiped my face clean of his slobber and he laughed, a joyous sound that bounced between the birches. He flung his strong arms around my waist, lifted me as if I weighed little more than a feather, and spun me around. His exhilaration rubbed off on me and I laughed with him. I wound my arms around his shoulders and buried my nose in the crook of his neck. Taking a deep breath, I shuddered. I adored his scent after a shift. He smelled of dew drops. Of pale green tender leaves and the earth itself.

“Did you have a good run?” I mumbled into his skin.

“I did.” He started walking back home with me still in his arms, and I hooked my legs around his hips.

“You didn’t eat the bunnies, I hope.”

Jonah chuckled. “No, my love, I didn’t eat the bunnies. You told me not to.”

I rewarded him by kissing his neck. By running my fingers down his spine, and rubbing my groin against his abs. He growled at me as if he hadn’t left his wolf behind completely. “Stop that if you don’t want to be late.”

“Being on time is overrated,” I said and crushed my mouth against his.

When we showed up on my mom’s doorstep two hours later, she didn’t agree.

Inspirational picture found on Instagram. 

Skärmavbild 2017-10-30 kl. 00.27.09

That was my first foray into the paranormal. Did you like it? 😁