Release blitz and #giveaway: Loving Kit by L.M. Brown

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Loving Kit
Author: L.M. Brown
Publisher: Fireborn Publishing
Cover Artist: Sheri McGathy
Genre/s: Romance, Sci-fi, MMM Menage, MPreg
Length: 87 500 words/235 pages

Blurb

Logan McRae never expected to see two aliens when he woke from cryogenic sleep. He has lost his ship and his people and he questions whether he has lost his mind. As he gets to know Halor and Kit he realises he might just lose his heart as well.

Logan expected to wake on the spacecraft Mercury, ready to pilot the ship down to New Earth. Instead he comes out of cryogenic stasis to find he is on another ship with two alien beings, neither of whom can understand anything he says. Unfortunately, they are all the help he has if he wants to find his people and resume his journey.

Kit doesn’t know what sort of creature he has accidentally purchased, but it is definitely male and isn’t so very different from him and his lover, Halor. The language barrier might be a problem, but Kit knows the language of love doesn’t always need words.

Prince Halor of the Hawk Clan has always been reluctant to expand his nest beyond himself and Kit, but it is obvious from the start that his feline lover is attracted to their unexpected guest. Halor will do anything to give Kit the happiness he deserves, even invite another man into their bed.

Logan has no idea that Kit isn’t quite like other men until their passion results in unexpected consequences. Now he must choose between his mission and the two men who have given him everything he ever wanted, as well as things he never dreamed of.

Excerpt

When Logan stepped out of the cubicle, the cat-man was waiting for him with a clean kilt, similar to the ones worn by them. Logan had never worn such a garment in his life, but it was clear this was the only alternative clothing available if he wanted his flight suit cleaned.

His decision made, his covered himself quickly, though not quickly enough to avoid the frank appraisal of his feline host, whose green eyes lingered just a little too long on his groin.

Logan had taken his share of lovers before leaving Earth, but he couldn’t recall ever being looked at quite like that. The feline licked his lips and made no effort to hide his stares.

During his time on the ship, Logan had watched the two lovers touch and kiss almost constantly whenever they were together in a room. He had seen the feline drop to his knees and suck the cock of the bird-man at least once a day. Late at night, when they had disappeared down the hatch, the sounds of their sexual activities echoed throughout the ship. Even if they hadn’t given him a show right there on the flight deck, Logan would have to have been blind and deaf not to have figured out their relationship was far more than that of shipmates.

Since he had been seeing far more than was decent, Logan had also noticed that their feline and bird-like features were combined with those of men. Fur and feathers may have replaced hair, their eyes may be those of birds and cats, but there was enough about the two of them to make it clear they were very much men, not so different from himself.

They were actually quite pleasant to look upon. The feline was adorably cute, with a mischievous grin that never failed to bring a smile to Logan’s lips. As for the bird, Logan not only admired his elegant beauty, he was in awe of his incredible strength.

Logan shivered at the want he saw in the eyes of the cat-man. He might not understand a word he said or even know his name, but the blatant sexual need in his gaze needed no translation.

The squawk of the bird-man alerted them to his presence. Logan jumped, feeling guilty, despite having done nothing to encourage the cat to stray.

The feline grinned and licked his lips again. He meowed and gestured to Logan’s dirty clothing. Logan hoped he was going to get them cleaned, not have them thrown away.

Logan stepped aside so the cat-man could pass him, only for him to run his clawed finger lightly along his chest, sending another wave of shivers down his spine.

As the cat-man passed his lover, the bird-man tapped his arse playfully, causing the feline to swipe at him with his tail. Logan could tell they were merely playing and relaxed a little. As long as the bird-man didn’t think he was trying to steal away his lover, things should be okay.

The feline vanished from sight and Logan stepped towards the door. That was when he realised the cat-man wasn’t the only one who apparently admired his human body. The bird-man halted his progress with a hand on his chest, which turned into a soft caress, running over his abdomen and down to the front of his kilt.

Logan couldn’t have stopped his body reacting if his life had depended on it.

Buy Links

Fireborn Publishing

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Goodreads Link

About the Author

L.M. Brown is an English writer of gay romances. She believes that there is nothing hotter or sweeter than two men in love with each other… unless it is three.

When L.M. Brown isn’t bribing her fur babies for control of the laptop, she can usually be found with her nose in a book.

Social Media Links

Blog/Website

Facebook

Twitter

Google+

Giveaway

To win a $10/£10 Amazon gift card please visit my blog and leave a comment on my new release announcement post.

It will start from the 19th February 2018 and run until midnight GMT on 3rd March with the winner being chosen on Sunday 4th March 2018.

RELEASE BLITZ SCHEDULE

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

 

Advertisements

Release blitz and #giveaway: Hearts & Health vol 1, by DJ Jamison

 

 
Blurb
 

Three full-length novels in a m/m romance series have been boxed up for one price! Sexy nurses with trust issues, overconfident doctors coping with reality checks, and hard-working students come together to find their hearts and health in small-town Kansas.

Heart Trouble (Book #1)
Fresh off his latest heartbreak, nurse Ben Griggs is wary when one of his patients shows an interest in him — especially when that patient showed up in the ER after a motorcycle accident. Ben isn’t the kind of guy who can hold the interest of an adrenaline junkie like Gage Evans for long. If he can’t find a way to trust Gage with his heart, they may be destined to have a fling that goes nowhere.

Bedside Manner (Book #2)
Dr. Paul Johnston can’t get a set of dark, somber eyes out of his head, and the timing couldn’t be worse. Zane Kavanaugh came through the ER, a victim of a hate-fueled assault, and Paul can’t forget him. But under review after a complaint, he also can’t afford to fall for a patient. Paul is afraid to start a relationship, and Zane can only handle so much more rejection. Paul may have to make a choice: His career or the first man to capture his heart.

Urgent Care (Book #3)
Dr. Trent Cavendish made a huge mistake when he walked away from the love of his life at age 18. When his best friend suddenly dies 12 years later, it rattles Trent into seeing how empty his life has become. He returns to his hometown, hoping to make amends to the man he left behind. Instead of the sweet but tame guy he remembers, Trent runs into a smoking-hot Xavier James dressed in bits of lace and silk at a gay nightclub. His plan to earn Xavier’s forgiveness immediately shifts to lust, and love’s not far behind.

Each of these books was previously published individually as part of the Hearts and Health series.

 

Excerpt from Book 1, Heart Trouble
The man had done a real number on himself. Angry scrapes covered his leg, and he was going to need sutures in two places. But everything looked clean and disinfected, so he reattached the bandage and slid the sheet up.

A smile tugged at his lips when, in the process, he glimpsed tight orange briefs under Gage’s hospital gown. Interesting underwear choice. This guy has a bit of flair.

“Is the leg your only damage?”

Gage chuckled, and Ben’s eyes shot up to his face. His lips smirked as he replied. “That’s debatable. What kind of damage are we talking: mental, emotional or physical?”

Ben laughed. “I only deal with the physical, honey.”

Gage’s smile widened, and Ben realized how that sounded. He hurried to get the conversation back on track. Flirting with patients was not ordinarily something he did, and he especially didn’t need to flirt with a biker. Despite what he’d said to Tripp, he was in no hurry to be another guy’s fuck buddy until he got bored.

“What I meant was, that jacket is looking abused. Do you have any other injuries?”

Even as he asked, Ben grabbed the chart to skim over the details once more. Not that he didn’t trust the patient, but he wanted to be sure he knew what had been detailed thus far.

“Jacket saved me,” Gage mumbled. “I might have a few bruises.”

Ben tsked. In addition to sutures, Gage was going to need a round of examinations to ensure there were no breaks or internal injuries to his body.

“Want me to take it off?”

Ben startled, glancing up. “What?”

“The jacket?” Gage said. “Do you need to see the rest of me?”

Ben bit down on his lip hard as images spilled through his mind. Even in a hospital gown covered by a leather jacket, Gage was a good looking man. His chest was firm and his shoulders broad. It was tempting to agree, just to look a little, after the dry spell Ben had experienced since Tripp dumped him.

That would be playing with fire, and he knew it.

Ben shook his head and replaced the chart.

“The doctor will make a more complete examination,” he said. “Let me go hunt down Dr. Johnston. I’ll scold him until he makes you his top priority.”

Ben smiled his polite nurse smile and turned for the door. He needed to get out of that room before he drooled all over his patient.

 
Author Bio

DJ Jamison worked in newsrooms for more than 10 years, which helped tremendously when she began her series centered on The Ashe Sentinel, a fictional small-town newspaper in Kansas. She lives in the Midwest with her husband, two sons and three glow-in-the-dark fish.

Facebook Author Page
FB group
Mailing list!
Follow me on Twitter
Find me on Goodreads
Check out my Book Bub profile!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted By Signal Boost Promotions

 

Release blitz and #giveaway: Conjoined at the Soul by Huston Piner

Title:  Conjoined at the Soul
Series: Seasons at Chadham High, Book Two
Author: Huston Piner
Publisher:  NineStar Press
Release Date: February 12, 2018
Heat Level: 1 – No Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 74200
Genre: Historical (1970s) YA, LGBT, historical/late 1970s, YA, humorous, high school, coming of age, coming out, bullying, homophobia, hate crime, bigotry, family drama

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

How hard can getting a boyfriend be? Randy’s about to find out.

Randy Clark has just looked in the mirror and figured out he’s gay. So now, all he needs is a boyfriend, and finding one should be easy enough, right? The trouble is Randy has a knack for being attracted to the wrong kind of guy, like the one who hasn’t spoken to him since he told him he had pretty eyes. Then there’s that locker-room jock who’s always putting him down. And new student Kerry Sawyer would be perfect—except for that girlfriend he left behind.

Obviously, when it comes to finding a boyfriend, Randy’s got a lot to learn. So for dating tips, he turns to friends Jeremy Smith and Annie Brock. But although Annie’s more than willing to help him find the right guy, between his own bad luck and her less than helpful advice (date a girl?), things are getting out of control fast. And while Randy struggles with bullies, bigotry, and his own self-doubts, he quickly finds that searching for love can be pitted with embarrassing misunderstandings, humiliating encounters, and hilarious missteps.

All in all, Randy’s sophomore year is shaping up to be one to remember—if he can just live through it.

Excerpt

Chapter One: Of Mirrors and Locker Rooms

Today is a day of historic importance. See, I woke up this morning and discovered I’m gay.

I was brushing my teeth, and when I spit out and looked in the mirror, a pointy-nosed, sixteen-year-old with unruly blond hair stared back at me and said, “You, young man, are gay.”

I know I know I know, it’s not quite that simple. I didn’t just go to bed last night as the straight Randy Clark only to have the gay pixie come and sprinkle fairy dust all over me in my sleep. The truth is, it’s something I’ve kind of seen coming for a couple of years now. It’s like a process: one day you start adding up all the times you’ve caught yourself looking at guys or couldn’t stop thinking about a particular boy, and it just hits you—you’re gay.

It’s a lot to take in.

Luckily, I have the ride to school to think about it. When the bus stops, I check the time, and it’s running late…again. Three minutes late.

I hate being late.

My best friend, Blake, stumbles on board like a zombie. His head’s drooping, and his shoulders are slumped forward. Yup, it was obviously another late night for Blake Rogers.

I flash him my most saccharine smile and say “Good morning” with my most sarcastic cheeriness.

“Mumm-ning, Randy.” He yawns and is already dozing before his butt even hits the seat next to me. And with that, it’s guaranteed to be a quiet, peaceful ride the rest of the way.

It’s funny, but now that I’ve admitted I’m gay, I’m more at peace with myself than I’ve ever been in my whole life. It feels natural. But it’s kind of scary too. I mean, being gay isn’t exactly the kind of thing you can just announce to the world. Some people would instantly hate you and tell you so, while others would express their opinion with a few well-chosen punches—and I get more than my share of those already. It’s enough to make a guy a little nervous.

And then there’s the problem—the real problem. Something’s missing in my life—something important, something very important. See, a straight guy can look forward to the possibility of getting married, but what about me? Is there someone out there waiting for me? I mean, sure, friends are important in life, but they’re not enough. What I need is a boyfriend, my own special someone to turn me on and send me into sexual orbit. That’s what it’s all about, right?

Blake starts snoring. I elbow him in the side and shake my head. He grumbles, but at least he stops snoring. The guy sitting across the aisle from us snickers.

Blake may be my best friend, but he won’t be the first person I tell I’m gay. It’s not that he’d stop being my friend or anything, it’s just that it’s more urgent for me to find someone I can go to for advice about guys first. Blake likes girls way too much to be of any help on that issue.

For that job, I know exactly who I need: Annie Brock and Jeremy Smith. They’re in my art class. If there are any two people on earth who will be able to help me find a boyfriend, it’s Annie and Jeremy.

I’ve finally made it to fifth period after surviving a typically boring morning, and whatever it was they served for lunch. (They called it spaghetti, but I swear it was wiggling.)

Art. It’s my favorite class, and unlike some of my others, I’m very good at it. I’ve got artistic flair. Our teacher, Mrs. Pilt, is the stereotypical art teacher. She wears smocks of various patterns and colors, and they’re always stained with smears of paint.

The art room reeks of pottery clay, glue, and God knows what else. The walls are lined with shelves and paintings, and there are weird mobiles hanging like Picasso spiders from the ceiling. It’s always noisy, and the radio constantly blasts out the Bee Gees, Dire Straits, and The B-52’s, with a little Chic thrown in for good measure. There are a number of rectangular tables here and there with up to six people at each. Annie, Jeremy, and I sit at the table closest to Mrs. Pilt’s desk. We’re her favorite students.

The great thing about art class is, as long as you stay on task, Mrs. Pilt lets you chat with the people around you. At our table, Annie does most of the talking. I get in a few words every now and then, and Jeremy rarely speaks at all.

We’re starting a new project, and for the moment, even Annie’s quiet while we all consider the charcoal and paper before us. If I’m going to tell them I’m gay and enlist their help, now is my best chance. I’d better act fast.

I open my mouth, but suddenly a lump forms in my throat. I take a deep breath and try again, but my stomach flutters.

What’s wrong with me? Why am I so nervous all of a sudden? Maybe if I ease into the subject?

I clear my throat. “Did you see Andy Gibb on TV this weekend? He’s good-looking.” I manage to say it without stammering.

Annie pulls at a lock of wiry black hair and grunts out one of her peculiar snickers. “Honey, good-looking doesn’t even begin to describe Andy Gibb.”

Annie’s laugh is kind of a cross between a giggle and the sound some people make when they’re blowing their noses. Like Annie herself, it’s unique. She’s outspoken and outlandish, and she doesn’t care who knows it. And she’s definitely got more than her quota of artistic flair. It extends right down to the clothes she wears. For example, today she has on a tangerine and lime-colored disco party dress with three-inch-high clogs.

“Yeah, I really like Andy Gibb,” I say.

Without looking up, Jeremy says, “He’s okay. What other singers do you like, Randy?”

One of the nice things about Jeremy is he’s not only quiet, he gets along with everybody—except for that low-rumble, love-hate thing he and Annie have going on. It’s okay though, because in the three years I’ve known them, they always sit together, and they look out for each other, despite constantly bickering.

“Well, on the male side, I guess I’d have to say Rod Stewart. That Georgie song was just so moving.”

“The one about the gay guy?” Jeremy mumbles, and Annie starts to snicker.

“Yeah, I’m gay.”

So much for easing into the subject.

Annie freezes in mid-snort. Jeremy looks up without raising his head.

“Of course you’re gay, sugar,” Annie says with a chuckle. “But you don’t have to say it so loud.”

I quickly look around, my cheeks burning, but none of the other students are paying us any attention.

Annie’s smile softens. “Now, don’t be embarrassed. I just mean I’ve had my suspicions about you for a while. You dress too well, and you’re always combing your hair. And you even like the Village People.”

“So what? Lots of people like the Village People. What’s that got to do with anything?”

Annie stares at me. “Randy, you do know they’re all gay, don’t you? I mean, you do know what “Y.M.C.A.” is all about?”

“It’s about working out at the Y.M.C.A., of course.”

“It’s about hanging out with all the boys. You get it now?”

Jeremy slowly shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author

Huston Piner always wanted to be a writer but realized from an early age that learning to read would have to take precedence. A voracious reader, he loves nothing more than a well-told story, a glass of red, and music playing in the background. His writings focus on ordinary gay teenagers and young adults struggling with their orientation in the face of cultural prejudice and the evolving influence of LGBTQA+ rights on society. He and his partner live in a house ruled by three domineering cats in the mid-Atlantic region.

Facebook | Twitter

 

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Blog Button 2

 

Release blitz and #giveaway: Seth & Casey by RJ Scott

 

Length: 26,000 words
Cover Design: Meredith Russell
 
Blurb
Seth Wild is a firefighter who has lost everything. Nearly dying in a fire, he is scared and angry and chases away the only good thing in his life—school teacher Casey McGuire.

When a sudden and violent snow storm hits their town he receives a message Casey and ten kids are trapped in an education center with no way out. There is no one else who can help, he’s the last fire fighter in town with his bum leg and his icy heart.

He doesn’t hesitate. He always promised he would be Casey’s hero, but will he ever again be Casey’s love?

Excerpt
 

“…New York’s LaGuardia and JFK International airports officially closed on Thursday afternoon due to the storm, according to the FAA. Both airports had been open earlier despite significant flight cancellations. LaGuardia resumed operations around 7 p.m. ET, while JFK said it planned to reopen sometime during the course of the night.”

Casey McGuire rinsed the last of the mugs and placed it on the drainer with the rest. For some reason, it was always mugs they ran out of in this house. Seth had this idea that the dishwasher ate them but Casey was convinced that they just needed a system to make sure they brought all the mugs back to the kitchen when they were done. Last week he’d found a mug in the bathroom, inside the cabinet, full of cold coffee.

Seth had sworn it wasn’t him, but Casey knew it had been.

He didn’t make a fuss. After all, what was one full coffee mug teetering on the edge of a glass shelf? In the grand scheme of things, it meant nothing.

The TV droned on behind him as he took a dishcloth and wiped the first of the mugs.

“…states from South Carolina to Maine are under a winter storm warning and the governors of Georgia, North Carolina, Virginia, New Jersey and New York have declared states of emergency. Forecasters say the northeast states can expect hurricane-force wind gusts and blinding snow…”

The news channels had been warning about this storm for a week, a huge dump of snow that would cripple the eastern seaboard, but that as yet hadn’t caused much concern here in Vermont. Casey glanced out of the window at the yard and wished for more snow. That way maybe Seth wouldn’t be able to leave the house, and possibly the two of them could have a rational conversation that didn’t end with Seth leaving and Casey wondering where the hell he was going wrong.

“…the situation is “ugly” and “dangerous,” and people should stay indoors…”

Last night, all Casey had said was that Seth shouldn’t forget about his appointment next morning. Seth left the house, clambering back into bed at some ungodly hour, reeking of beer or worse. In his sleep, Seth tried to pull Casey close, but Casey had deliberately scooted up and away, and left his husband in the bed.

Today, at ten, Seth had exploded, accusing Casey of meddling in things he didn’t understand, telling Casey he was fine and didn’t need a shrink.

Yet another night when one of them ended up on the couch.

“Hey.”

Casey stiffened at Seth’s soft, gravelly voice. His chest was tight, he didn’t want to argue. He wanted Seth to admit there was a problem, because he couldn’t handle it anymore. Six months of this had taken its toll. Maybe if Seth had seen the specialists when he should’ve, maybe if he’d seen a counselor, then Casey would see he was trying.

Seth was in denial, and it was destroying their marriage.

He didn’t turn to face Seth; he’d made a decision in the early morning, packed a bag with what he could get without waking Seth, and decided they needed space. If Seth had space he might face up to himself instead of taking it out on Casey.

Seth slid his hands around Casey’s waist, resting his chin on Casey’s shoulder and sighed. He’d brushed his teeth so the only scent was peppermint, which at least was a step up from yesterday when he’d attempted a clumsy kiss with beer still on his breath.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured near Casey’s ear.

Casey could turn now, accept the apology, even offer one of his own for pushing Seth, and everything would be normal for a while. Seth could go back to pretending he was okay, and Casey could go back to walking on eggshells and avoiding conflict.

But what kind of a marriage was that?

What kind of a man did that make Casey?

“I know you are,” he said. Then he tensed because that wasn’t the answer Seth wanted, and Casey knew what would happen next. Seth would go straight onto defensive mode, give some bullshit about how he was a firefighter and didn’t need a counselor.

Meanwhile, Seth not accepting any of what he needed was tearing their marriage apart. Casey had been careful with him for a long time, after all, Seth had nearly died. But when months had passed and he was still refusing to listen to reason, that was when Casey realized he’d been wrong in accepting Seth’s view on what kind of healing he needed.

“I think we need some time apart,” Casey said, and placed the dried mug onto the counter. He eased away from Seth’s hold and moved to the other side of the kitchen table. Somehow, having it between them gave Casey the strength to do what he’d decided was the right thing. Seth had this way of holding him, with a near desperation that never failed to have Casey crumbling.

Seth didn’t answer at first. Casey stopped himself from repeating the words and hoped that Seth was just thinking. The only noise in the kitchen was the news, focusing on Greyhound buses and the routes being cancelled.

“Why?”

RJ’s goal is to write stories with a heart of romance, a troubled road to reach happiness, and most importantly, that hint of a happily ever after.

RJ Scott is the bestselling author of over one hundred romance books. She writes emotional stories of complicated characters, cowboys, millionaire, princes, and the men who get mixed up in their lives. RJ is known for writing books that always end with a happy ever after. She lives just outside London and spends every waking minute she isn’t with family either reading or writing.

The last time she had a week’s break from writing she didn’t like it one little bit, and she has yet to meet a bottle of wine she couldn’t defeat. 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Release blitz and #giveaway: Speedbump by Charli Coty

Title:  Speedbump
Author: Charli Coty
Publisher:  NineStar Press
Release Date: February 5, 2018
Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 68200

Genre: Contemporary, LGBT, contemporary, bisexual, trans, genderqueer, non-binary, #ownvoices, musician, disability, drinking/some drug use, multicultural, small town, Oregon, some violence, illness/disease, Alzheimer’s

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

Ezra Cook is sole caregiver to older brother Tray, who was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s in his forties. They live outside the small town of Drop, Oregon, on property Tray bought with his Microsoft settlement money. For years, Ezra has been going on and off low doses of testosterone to maintain a comfortable level of androgyny. Ezra spends most days juggling Tray’s needs and the work required to survive in rural Oregon on a small income, ignoring their own needs, especially companionship and sleep.

Ellred “Red” Long escaped Drop at seventeen but returns to his hometown in disgrace after his band dumped him on the streets of LA. Coming back doesn’t seem like such a dead end, though, after he sees a guy walking along the side of the road in the rain and gives him a lift.

Ezra and Red’s chance meeting begins an uncomfortable friendship neither had expected, and both allow fear to keep it from escalating into a hookup, or worse, a romance. Red never meant to return to Drop and doesn’t want to get stuck there again, while Ezra’s protective walls may be too strong to breach, from either side.

Excerpt

 

It had been a while since the last time a moving vehicle hit me, but I wasn’t in the mood to take chances. The night was dark—no moon and only a smattering of stars peeking between the clouds. At least the rain had finally stopped. The county road I was walking along was flat, but I’d just passed a turn when headlights flashed behind me, coming up fast. A blind turn the locals had been known to straighten now and then, especially when the weekend and low visibility coincided.

I ran toward the neighbor’s patched fence, toward safety in the form of a boulder guarding the apex of the turn, hoping whoever sat behind the wheel didn’t mean to run me down. The way my luck was going that night, with the unexpected rain and Granddad’s truck quitting, it surprised me when the car stopped and I was still standing upright.

The GTO—the 1964 stock GTO that I knew to be deep purple but looked black right then—rocked gently and then settled. It rocked again when he leaned across the seat to roll the window down. Even if he’d seen my truck, he wouldn’t know who I was. He’d left town before we moved here, and only one thing about me is at all noteworthy anyway. Everyone knew the day he’d come back to town. Red Richardson—also known as Ellred Long, the name he got the day he was born. Back from Los Angeles where he’d never really made it, but he’d come close enough to be a Big Man in this little backwash town of five hundred (give or take). What he was doing so far off the highway or any of the main roads, I had no clue.

“Hey,” he shouted. Even only hearing him shout, you couldn’t help but know the man could sing. “Let me give you a lift. It’s starting to rain again.”

Slowly, to give myself time to figure out what was going on, I approached the passenger side of the car. I didn’t want to get in—that was trouble waiting to happen if I’d ever seen it—but I wasn’t looking forward to walking for another two hours either. I bent and looked in the window, a safe four feet between me and the car. A blast of warm air hit my face, and I tried not to look too hard at him. He always wore nice button-down shirts, in videos or going to the Mini Mart in Drop—jewel-tone red, purple, black—that looked like silk.

“Where are you headed?”

“Nowhere. Just out driving.”

Even in the dark, I could see his brilliant smile. He probably paid good money for that whiteness. I couldn’t see his long black hair or whether he was clean-shaven or had that short patch of beard he sometimes wore on his chin, but the smile did me in on its own.

“Where are you headed out here on foot in the middle of the night?” Red asked.

“Home.” A few steps closer won’t hurt. Maybe. “My truck quit a mile back.”

“The white International? That’s a shame. Cool old truck.”

We stared at each other another minute, sizing up the situation, and then he reached across and opened the door. He saw a dirty guy, obviously the one who’d filled the bed of said truck with firewood. A filthy, wet, and tired guy who only wanted to get home.

He has no idea.

I brushed off my pants as best I could and slid onto the seat. “Thanks. I’m up the road a couple of miles.”

Red Richardson extended a hand and introduced himself. As though he needed to tell anyone who lived within a fifty-mile radius who he was. I gripped his hand for as short a time as I could get away with and nodded.

“Ezra. Ezra Cook.”

“Good to meet you, Ezra Cook.” Red looked me over, and I could’ve sworn he was wondering how much trouble he could whip up for the both of us. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought he wanted me to pay for the ride with a blow job. Or maybe he was only trying to figure out who I was related to.

That would take a very long time and end the same way as his music career: in disappointment.

I adjusted myself on the seat, pulling my filthy jeans lower across my hips and turning said hips away from him. He shouldn’t be flirting with men, and if he kept it up, I wasn’t above pointing that out. He could get himself killed doing that out here.

Red cleared his throat and gunned the engine. It sounded amazing. His father and brothers had kept the car on the road, probably figured he’d never be back to claim it. Probably prayed he’d never come back to claim it. That GTO was the nicest ride in three towns. Or maybe I liked the whole package—the sexy washed-up musician driving a fifty-year-old muscle car.

He pulled back onto the road, his headlights illuminating a whole lot of nothing in front and to both sides. The silence stretched out too long, something that wouldn’t have bothered me any other time or place.

“You’ll see a big red mailbox on the right.”

Red chuckled. A quiet rumbling, tuned to perfection like the car. “Your folks live out here long?”

That got my hackles up, but no sense in going down that road. “No. We moved to Drop in the early aughts.”

He darted a look in my direction—at least that’s what it probably started out as. Red couldn’t tear his eyes off me, which should’ve felt more like trouble than it did. Denial. It’ll get you every time.

“Aughts? What’s that?”

“You know. The first decade of the twenty-first century. Aught one, aught two…” When I realized I’d actually been speaking to him like he was anyone else—like we were two regular guys in a car, nothing unusual, nothing out of the ordinary to see here—I caught my tongue between my teeth and bit down. Not hard, I’m no masochist, just hard enough to remember why I should shut the hell up.

“How old are you?” He chuckled again. Damn him. “My father says that, but I didn’t think anyone under sixty used that term.”

“We’re all old out here.”

“Interesting. Because I’ve always heard the opposite. About me, anyway.”

“Opposite?”

“That I’m immature. A hopeless man-child.” He laughed and took one hand off the wheel. My attention fixed on that hand as he rubbed his thigh and then gripped it. His laugh sounded embarrassed and like he was bragging at the same time. I needed to get out of that car before I got myself in trouble.

“You can drop me anywhere. I don’t want to put you out.”

“I’ll take you home. It’s no trouble.”

Red rubbed the thigh of his jeans again, maybe to dry a sweaty palm, and then returned his hand to the wheel. His concentration seemed to focus on driving and the road outside the windshield instead of on me. Disappointing, but for the best. Even if he did keep flirting—if that was really what he’d been doing—it wasn’t like it would have gone anywhere. Rock stars didn’t get involved with…people like me.

I’d just raised my hand to point out the mailbox when he slowed to take the turn. His cocky grin made me want to adjust my pants again, but I was afraid we’d end up in the ditch if I did. Red roared down the half-mile stretch of dirt and gravel that passed for our road but stopped the car without making any ruts. He might be cocky, but he was no asshole.

Great. I’d sort of hoped he was.

He stopped in the turnaround near the front porch, and before I could even say thanks, the front door burst open. My brother stormed out and didn’t stop, yelling at the top of his lungs about something. All he wore were battered and ripped jeans—the hair on his head and chest looked white in Red’s headlights and wild like he’d been asleep on the couch. His enormous feet were bare. I jumped out before the car had stopped rocking.

“It’s me—Ezra,” I shouted over him. “Tray, the truck broke down, and Red here gave me a lift home.”

Tracy stopped and glared at the car, both hands locked in fists. He didn’t move or say another word, which was probably for the best considering he’d been woken up by headlights to find out I hadn’t made it home.

I closed the car door and looked at Red through the open window. “Thanks for the ride.”

“You going to be okay?” He looked between Tracy and me a couple of times. Clearly, he thought the answer was no.

“Yeah. It’s my brother. The car must’ve woke him up. We don’t get a lot of traffic back here, that’s all. Thanks again.” I stepped back and gave him a little wave. When he didn’t head out right away, I took Tray’s arm and started up the porch steps. Tracy didn’t make it any easier—he twisted at the waist to look back, no doubt trying to figure out who was crazy enough to drive down his road. Even FedEx and UPS had Tracy Cook’s place listed as a no-fly zone, so we had to drive over an hour into Portland to pick up any packages. When we got any packages, which didn’t happen much.

Nobody would’ve sent any presents to the Cooks’ two black sheep, even if they had found us again.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author

Charli Coty misspent a large chunk of her youth on the back of a Harley, meeting people and having adventures that sometimes pop up in their fiction. Mx Coty writes everything from contemporary to paranormal, always with a happy ending. Charli has survived earthquakes, tornadoes, and floods, but couldn’t make it through one day without stories.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

 

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Blog Button 2

Book blitz and #giveaway: Finders Keepers by N.R. Walker

Finders Keepers
N.R. Walker
Publication date: February 2nd 2018
Genres: Adult, LGBTQ+, Romance

Needing a change of scene, Griffin Burke moves from Brisbane to Coolum Beach to start a new job. The beautiful white sand, aqua-coloured ocean, blue skies, and summer breezes are everything he longs for. What he finds is a mud-covered dog, lost and hungry, with a nametag and a phone number.

Dane Hughes is stuck in Surfers Paradise at a week-long work conference when he gets a phone call from his distraught mother. His dog, his fur baby, Wicket, has run away. Unable to leave and feeling helpless and miserable, he gets a text from a guy. “I think I found your dog…”

Griffin and Dane start talking, and Griffin agrees to look after Wicket until Dane can collect him. With a few days left before his new job starts, Griffin takes Wicket on some coastal adventures and sends Dane photos of their fun, and so the start of something new and kind of wonderful begins.

Griffin might have moved to Coolum in search of a new life, but what he finds is so much more. What he gets to keep just might take some four-legged help.

Goodreads / Amazon

EXCERPT:

I got all moved into my new place and had everything unpacked on day one. I’d met my downstairs landlady for the first time as the two bulky removalists were lugging my bed up the stairs. I was at the bottom of the stairs watching them, not entirely ogling, when a tiny, five-foot-tall woman stood beside me.

She didn’t say anything for a while, just stared at the men straining to get the wooden bedhead up the flight of stairs. Still without looking at me, she hummed. “Nice arse.”

I almost choked on my sip of water. “Uh…”

“Don’t tell me you weren’t looking. I might be a little hard of hearing, but I ain’t blind.”

Right then.

I held out my hand. “Name’s Griffin Burke.”

She shook my hand, and her hard, firm grip surprised me. She looked kind of frail at first, but then I noticed her tattoos. Her entire right arm was now a mottled, wrinkled mass of blue and coloured ink on sun-leathered skin. Given she looked to be in her seventies, she must have had a full sleeve done forty or fifty years ago.

Jesus.

“Bernice Warren.”

She was wearing a sleeveless tank top and a flowing skirt. Upon closer inspection, she looked like a hippy that peace, love, and time forgot. Her face had seen too much sun as well, wrinkled and leathered, though I imagined she would have once been stunningly beautiful. Her blue eyes still had spark, her long once-blonde hair now ash grey.

“Come with me,” she said, turning on her heel and walking toward the roller door. When she turned, I noticed her left arm. Old, mottled blue tattoos went to her elbow, as well as two scars that looked like lightning strikes. They looked surgical and my first thought was shoulder reconstruction, but then I noticed one scar ran underneath her shirt and up her neck. She turned the latch on the roller door, and using her right arm only, lifted the door to review a storage space. Inside was a lawnmower, wheelbarrow, and some gardening tools.

Ah, right. I was the resident mower of lawns.

“I’d do it myself,” she said. “But the old arm doesn’t work like it used to.” She lifted her left arm rigidly. It didn’t hang useless but there was definitely restricted movement.

“It’s fine,” I said. “I don’t mind mowing lawns at all. My weekends will be Monday and Tuesday though, not Saturday and Sunday. If that’s okay?”

“It’s fine. Don’t much care what day you do ’em.” She nodded to herself. “Last tenant was a nice girl. Started out with good intentions, and she was gonna do all sorts of things to help me out, but that didn’t last long.” Bernice looked up at me and stared for a good long minute. “You’re not the churchgoing type, are you?”

“Uh…”

“I don’t mind if you are, I just don’t wanna offer you one of my special brownies and for you to totally hash out on me and start mumbling biblical shit at me every time you see me.”

I fought a smile and lost, and I tried not to laugh but couldn’t help that either. “Not biblical. Not in that sense, anyway. Unless you consider my earlier staring at that guy’s arse a religion. As for the special brownies, I haven’t had any for a while. Not since college, anyway.”

Bernice grinned and nodded slowly. “So you know what I mean when I say special brownie. Not like the last poor girl who thought it was my grandma’s special recipe or some shit.” She shook her head slowly. “Dunno what she was thinking. Do I look like Betty Fucking Crocker to you?”

Author Bio:

N.R. Walker is an Australian author, who loves her genre of gay romance.

She loves writing and spends far too much time doing it, but wouldn’t have it any other way.

She is many things: a mother, a wife, a sister, a writer. She has pretty, pretty boys who live in her head, who don’t let her sleep at night unless she gives them life with words. She likes it when they do dirty, dirty things… but likes it even more when they fall in love.

She used to think having people in her head talking to her was weird, until one day she happened across other writers who told her it was normal.

She’s been writing ever since…

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter

GIVEAWAY!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

XBTBanner1

 

Release blitz and #giveaway: The Short Stories Collection by Louise Lyons

 

Length: 45,000 words approx.
Blurb

A collection of three short stories.

In Darkest Peru
When shy and geeky Rhys White is ditched by his boyfriend of five years, and made redundant from his job in the space of one week, he decides to make some changes. Tired of being boring and hiding being his computer, he throws caution to the winds and buys a plane ticket to Peru.

The adventure in Peru starts out well, but then disaster strikes when the bus he is travelling on is held up by thieves. Rhys loses everything, including his passport, wallet, and phone.

Stranded in Cuzco, not too far from the famous Inca city of Machu Picchu, Rhys tries to find someone to help him. Just when he begins to lose hope, sexy Brazilian, Rafael, comes to his rescue, and his desperation situation takes a turn for the better.

One Snowy Night
After yet another failed date, Keith Brambles’ luck turns from bad to worse, as he tries to drive home in heavy snow and crashes his car. With no phone signal, no warm clothes, and the weather worsening, he fears freezing to death overnight.

But help is at hand in the form of a knight in a white van. Mike Talbot stops to help Keith, and takes him home to warm up—in more ways than one, when the pair’s mutual attraction kicks in.

Mike is everything Keith has ever dreamed of when he thinks of his ideal man. But can Mike really be Keith’s dream come true, or is their night together just another bit of fun?

Lost and Found
When author Philip Johnson loses his much-loved dog, Prince, he buries himself in the fantasy world of his latest novel. But as his heartbreak gradually lessens and he focuses more on the happy times he had with Prince, he realises the hole left in his life needs to be filled with a new puppy.

After responding to an advertisement for a young dog, Philip is surprised to find the owner is none other than Edward Manby, the very good-looking vet who took care of Prince in his last hours. Philip is delighted to discover his attraction to Edward is returned and despite the twenty-year age gap between them, their love for their pets brings them together and leads to romance.

 

Louise Lyons comes from a family of writers. Her mother has a number of poems published in poetry anthologies, her aunt wrote poems for the church, and her grandmother sparked her inspiration with tales of fantasy.

Louise first ventured into writing short stories at the grand old age of eight, mostly about little girls and ponies. She branched into romance in her teens, and MM romance a few years later, but none of her work saw the light of day until she discovered FanFiction in her late twenties. Posting stories based on some of her favourite movies, provoked a surprisingly positive response from readers. This gave Louise the confidence to submit some of her work to publishers, and made her take her writing “hobby” more seriously.

Louise lives in the UK, about an hour north of London, with a mad dog called Casper, and a collection of tropical fish and tarantulas. She works in the insurance industry by day, and spends every spare minute writing. She is a keen horse-rider, and loves to run long-distance. Some of her best writing inspiration comes to her, when her feet are pounding the open road. She often races home afterward, and grabs pen and paper to make notes.

Louise has always been a bit of a tomboy, and one of her other great loves is cars and motorcycles. Her car and bike are her pride and job, and she loves to exhibit the car at shows, and take off for long days out on the bike, with no one for company but herself.

Facebook: www.facebook.com/louiselyonsauthor
Twitter: www.twitter.com/louiselyons013
Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/louiselyons013
Instagram: www.instagram.com/louiselyons013
Blog: www.louiselyonsauthor.com
Email: louiselyons013@gmail.com

Giveaway: Louise is giving away a signed paperback copy of her 2015 fantasy/vampire romance novel, The Eye of the Beholder, which is no longer available for sale. Please comment on any of the Release Blitz posts to enter. Available for worldwide shipping.

Hosted By Signal Boost Promotions