An Alisa Review: Angels Sing by Eli Easton

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Rating:  3.5 stars out of 5

Jamie Bailey has not had such a wonderful life. He gave up his dreams of Harvard at 18 to raise his sister’s unwanted baby, and later a prized job to help a sick friend. Now the father of six-year-old Mia, and assistant manager at Raven Books, Jamie’s dreams are dashed once again when Uncle Billy admits what dire straights the bookshop is in.

Stanton Potter, son of the most notorious businesswoman in Bedford Falls, loves his job teaching at the local elementary school. But he’s less than thrilled when he is forced to put together a Christmas pageant with first-graders, including Mia Bailey.

When Stanton meets Jamie, angels sing. Jamie’s gender-bending fashion sense, and sweet aura, have Stanton suffering through the worse crush he’s had since he was a teen. But can there be any hope for them when Jamie and Mia’s lives are about to be uprooted?

This Christmas, its Jamie’s turn to receive a little help from heaven.

This was a cute story and I thought Jamie’s daughter was adorable even if she was more of the focus of the story than Jamie and Stanton’s relationship.  Now, I love stories with kids but I’m not looking for them to be the main part of the story.

Jamie is so strong and it was easy to see the sacrifices he has made and how it feels like life keeps knocking him down.  I thought Stanton’s horror at teaching first-graders (and having to do a Christmas pageant) was hilarious, he made it such a bigger deal than it needed to be and with Jamie’s help it all came together.  I’m not going to lie though I thought the way Stanton’s mom had been treating the store when she hadn’t even stepped foot in it in years wasn’t right but she ended up coming around.

The cover art is an adorable picture of Stanton and Mia.

Sales Link: Amazon

Book Details:

ebook, 136 pages

Published: December 2, 2019

Edition Language: English

Series: Daddy Dearest #2

Release Blitz and Giveaway for Dances Long Forgotten by Ruby Moone

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Buy Links: Amazon US | Amazon UK | Universal LinkExclusive to Amazon and Available to Borrow with Kindle Unlimited
 
Length: 35,000 words approx.
 
Cover Design: Meredith Russell
 
Blurb
 

On Christmas Eve, Dylan, the man of James Pell-Charnley’s dreams, is on the point of walking out. Then they hear the faint strains of a waltz in the library of the empty abbey. The music is said to be heard only by those truly in love and it gives James the courage to tell Dylan the story.


In December 1841, Lord Hugo Pell-Charnley is in a terrible mess. The youngest son of the late Marquis, youngest brother of the incumbent, never felt to fit. When his life comes crashing down, and his life and his family are threatened, he is forced to face his elder brother and confess his deepest secret. When he arrives at Winsford Abbey he finds he must also confront the shame from his past in the form of Lyndon Cross. The boy he’d loved but betrayed in school.


As they clear the ghosts from the past, they dance in each other’s arms in the library to the soft strains of the waltz, but long buried secrets threaten to destroy their happiness.


Two hundred years later, can those dances long forgotten give James and Dylan the courage to hold on to love?

 
Excerpt 
 

A knock on the door froze him. Who in God’s name would be wanting entry to the damned library at this hour?


Before he could respond, it opened, and Lyndon Cross stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind him.


Hugo had no idea what to say. He just stared. Mouth quite probably hanging open.


“I hope you don’t mind me following you,” Cross said. His voice should have been like a chorus of angels given the way he looked, but it was deep, quiet, and had a warm, raspy quality to it that brushed against Hugo’s skin. It always had. Even as a boy it had power, but as a man it wrapped its way all around him.


“Not at all.”


Cross walked towards him, and Hugo had to fight to remain in place and not bolt for the door.


“I wasn’t sure what to expect.”


Hugo frowned. “Beg pardon?”


“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to speak to me.”


“Ah, why wouldn’t I?” Hugo was genuinely bewildered for a moment, but then Cross raised an eyebrow; tilted his head.


No…no…no… He isn’t going to mention it…surely to God? It was something that Hugo had expunged from memory.


“Do you remember my last day?”


Hugo nodded; eyes wide. He is. Dear, sweet God, he is going to mention it.


Hugo felt as though someone was squeezing him all over, making it hard to think or breathe, as he recalled that last day vividly to memory.


He’d heard that Lyndon was leaving the school, from the gossip that periodically rippled through the school. It was as though someone had ripped his heart from his chest. He’d followed him through the building, completely unable to speak to him, tell him how desperate he felt. At the end, he’d hidden in the grand hall and watched Lyndon walk across it to meet his parents waiting in the carriage on the drive. No-one else was about. It was his last chance to say something, but the words stuck in his throat.


Lyndon, by some strange twist, paused by the door, looked around, and spotted him lurking by the grandfather clock. He’d hesitated, whilst Hugo’s heart hung suspended in his chest, and then he’d run to him. Run back into the hall. He’d thrown his arms around Hugo, held him tight for a moment, then kissed him on the cheek. He’d been about to run back when Hugo grabbed him. Actually grabbed him and kissed him full on the mouth.


In his dreams, Hugo liked to think Lyndon had returned the kiss, in a closed mouthed, inexpert way, with his arms tight about him. In reality, he wasn’t too sure. Lyndon had stared for a moment, then run back to his parents.


That had been ten years ago, and now, the first boy he’d kissed stood before him. Hugo wasn’t sure if he’d come to exact retribution and expose him. Well, if he was here to do that, he’d need to get in line.

My name is Ruby Moone and I love books. All kinds of books. My weakness is for romance, and that can be any kind, but I am particularly fond of historical and paranormal. I decided to write gay romance after reading some fantastic books and falling in love with the genre, so am really thrilled to have my work published here. The day job takes up a lot of my time, but every other spare moment finds me writing or reading. I live in the north west of England with my husband who thinks that I live in two worlds. The real world and in the world in my head…he probably has a point!


Ruby’s Room – https://www.facebook.com/groups/883596845175216/
Facebook Page – https://www.facebook.com/RubyMoone/?ref=bookmarks
Twitter – https://twitter.com/RubyMooneWriter
Instagram https://www.instagram.com/rubymoone/
BookBub – https://www.bookbub.com/profile/ruby-moone?list=about
Website – https://rubymoone.com

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AUDIO BLITZ and Giveaway for PROMISES: PART 1 (BOUNTY HUNTERS #1) by A.E. VIA and Aiden Snow (Narrator)

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Narrated By: Aiden Snow
 
Length: 7hrs 31 mins
 
Publisher: Tantor Media
 
Blurb



Duke Morgan owns and operates one of the largest bail bond companies in Atlanta. Not only does he bond criminals out of jail, he and his notorious group of bounty hunters will also track them down and ensure they show up for court.


Roman “Quick” Webb is Duke’s business partner and best friend. Both men are in their forties and have given up on the happily ever after with the ranch-style home, and white picket fence. They’d both tried it and failed miserably. But they have their friendship and they have the business.


When Quick’s son, Vaughan Webb returns – after seven years-from studying abroad with his law degree in hand, he’s back to claim what he’s always wanted…his fathers’ best friend…Duke Morgan. Vaughan has always claimed to be a classic gentleman with an old soul. He was focused and dedicated to becoming the man worthy of Duke’s love.


It’s a complex and messy situation as Duke and Quick figure out how to still be best friends when one of them is sleeping with his friend’s one and only son. But when Duke is hurt on the job, all the unimportant trivialities fall to the wayside and Vaughan and Quick put their heads together to save Duke.

A.E. Via has been a best-selling author in the beautiful gay romance genre for five years now, but she’s no stranger to MM. She’s been an avid reader of gay lit for over fifteen years before she picked up her laptop to place her own kiss on this genre. She’s also the founder and owner of Via Star Wings Books, having published a couple great new up and coming MM authors.


A.E. has a Bachelor of Arts in Criminal Justice from Virginia Wesleyan College that she used to start her own paralegal firm after she graduated in 2008. She spent five years preparing and filing bankruptcy petitions for struggling blue collar workers who couldn’t afford to file with a lawyer. It was a rewarding and satisfying career… but another path called to her. Writing.


A.E.’s writing embodies everything from hopelessly romantic to adventure, to scandalous. Her stories often include intriguing edges and twists that take readers to new, thought-provoking depths.


Now that she’s gotten over her 10 books published hump, she’s kind of known now for her hardcore, play rough and love hard, bad boy, alphas. However, she does like to push herself to step out of her comfort zone, exploring different tropes, but she won’t push herself into a whole other genre. She’s head over heels for gay romance and she has tons of more hot stories to tell.


Be sure to visit Adrienne on her social media pages and subscribe to her newsletter to never miss another release date! Go to A.E. Via’s official website http://authoraevia.com for more detailed information on how to contact her, follow her, or a sneak peak at upcoming work, free reads, VSWB submissions, and where she’ll appear next.

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Check Out the New Release Blitz for Wild Bells (Tinsel and Spruce Needles #3) by Elna Holst (excerpt and giveaway)

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Title: Wild Bells

Series: Tinsel and Spruce Needles, Book Three

Author: Elna Holst

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: December 16, 2019

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 14800

Genre: Contemporary, LGBT, holiday, romance, lesbian, disabilities, college student, silversmith

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Synopsis

Lund, Sweden, 1998

Mia Andersson is not a nice person. She is a sharp, sensational-looking, aloof lawyer-to-be, and the busiest sapphic player in town. Mia Andersson takes no prisoners, tells no tales, and if you gave her your number, chances are she won’t call. But this holiday season, at age twenty-seven, wheels that are out of her control have been set in motion, and it looks like she might just get caught in the spin.

Excerpt

Wild Bells
Elna Holst © 2019
All Rights Reserved

Lund, Sweden, 1998

Linda Ling was all that. From the moment Mia had first set eyes on her, at the band’s premiere gig at Blekingska back in October, she hadn’t been able to not see her: Linda Ling turned up in her dreams at night, in her thoughts by day, in casual conversation between classes, in the distance along the streets of late-autumn, early-winter Lund. She was on posters, in clubs, in the air, and—God help her—in Mia Andersson’s masturbatory fantasies. The spiky, jet-black hair, the punk-goth pallor, her slight, androgynous build, the calculated raggedness of her clothing: black netting, torn edges, charcoal and purple stripes. The ankh tattoo at the nape of her neck, which Mia had glimpsed, teasingly, only once at the university library, where she had happened to spot Linda embroiled with a gaggle of friends-cum-admirers, her hair gathered in a messy I’ve-got-brains-too bun to mark the occasion. She had a piercing, as well: a stud below her full, pouty bottom lip, and each and every finger of her hands was adorned with at least two fancy, industrial-sized silver rings. Her eyes were an intense shade of violet, which Mia suspected must be the product of tinted contacts, but it didn’t matter, or rather, it merely added to her attractions—because Linda Ling was so attractive it was unreal.

And Mia Andersson was not in the habit of not having got her leg over that already.

True, Linda was four years her junior, but Mia wasn’t usually squeamish about that sort of thing: she was twenty-seven, not eighty-three. And she’d bet her favourite, well-worn Ramones tee Linda Ling wouldn’t mind a slightly older, a lot more experienced lover.

This wasn’t so much bragging as a statement of facts; Mia Andersson had been a player of, more or less, the exclusive sapphic variety since she had turned fifteen. She had been sexually active for well over a decade, and she had turned her fair share of blushing bi-curious virgins into raging rug munchers. Her gaydar was impeccable. If there was even the slightest possibility, the most infinitesimal potential of queer in a girl, Mia brought it out and honed it to glimmering perfection, before releasing her back out into the wild. Mia Andersson was a dykemaker. It was just her thing.

There was only one problem—one which, despite her being closer to her cool thirties than her red-hot twenties, Mia couldn’t recall ever having run up against before. She was miffed. She was stunted. She was flabbergasted.

Linda Ling was, to all appearances and in spite of her heavy, enticing, smouldering andro vibe, completely, irredeemably, one hundred per cent and counting, straight.

The mere thought caused Mia’s upper lip to curl in distaste, her hand gripping the neck of her beer bottle spasmodically. She just couldn’t accept it, and the non-acceptance had turned into a minor obsession—to the point where Mia Andersson, the Malmö-Lund region’s busiest lesbian lay, had gone a full thirty days (an entire month!) without getting any action. Her frustration was verging on palpable. She needed another drink.

Turning abruptly away from the low stage where Linda and her band members droned out their latest dour-faced dirge—the Raven Choir they called themselves, or something along those lines; to be honest, Mia wouldn’t have given them a second glance, much less paid the price of a ticket, if it hadn’t been for the fact that their lead singer was, well, all that—Mia made for the bar. Or, that was the plan; in reality, she ran crotch first into a froth-tipped pint of lager.

“Oh, for fuck’s—”

Eyes of an indeterminate colour regarded her, from out of a tan face shaded by the stiff peak of a light-blue football cap.

“Unexpected move.” The person to whom these iconoclastic features belonged cocked her head, and a devilish glint came into those previously oh-so-innocent eyes right before she added: “Bet I got your knickers wet in record time, though.”

Mia ‘the Dykemaker’ Andersson was at a loss for words. Slack-jawed with disbelief, she simply stared down at the woman seated—of course, it had to be, this close to the stage—in a sleek purple wheelchair, a now half-empty glass of beer in hand. Or half full, depending on your outlook on life, etc. There was something oddly, disturbingly familiar about her.

The woman switched her glass over to her left and held out her right hand.

“Sandra Ling,” she drawled, and everything came together, all at once, as Mia darted a look back up at Linda, who was, mercifully, not turned in their direction.

“That’s right,” Sandra nodded as she shook Mia’s limp hand vigorously. She had some grip on her; that was for sure. “Twins. I know. I know. It’s not fair; how come I got all the looks and talent?”

Mia snorted, half in shock, half in amusement.

“How is that—” She stopped, not really certain where she was going, what she was saying. Besides, her jeans and—yes, her underwear, too—really were soaking. In a non-sexual, not comfortable at all way. “Fuck, I’m wet!”

Sandra sucked her lips in over her teeth, giving her a frog-like appearance. Kind of—no, not kind of, just cute, actually.

“Yeah, jokes aside, I’m sorry about that. I was just about to—well, never mind.”

Mia shuffled her feet. There was a puddle on the floor, starting to give off that classic old-drunk reek, and she felt about as fresh and alluring as if she had pissed herself. And here she was, chatting to a stranger. A girl in a wheelchair. Linda’s sister. Her twin.

“I should go wash off.”

Sandra sat back in her seat, lifting herself up a little on her forearms. Her torso was—square, almost a perfect square, there was no other way of putting it.

“I’ll keep a look out for you. When you get back, I mean. I think I owe you a drink or something. What did you say your name was?”

“Mia. Mia Andersson. I’m—I’m really wet.”

Sandra’s lips twisted into the subtlest smirk Mia could recollect ever having seen, except—well, except when she happened to catch sight of her own reflection.

She actually, honest-to-God blushed.

Purchase

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

Meet the Author

Often quirky, always queer, Elna Holst is an unapologetic genre-bender who writes anything from stories of sapphic lust and love to the odd existentialist horror piece, reads Tolstoy, and plays contract bridge. Find her on Instagram or Goodreads.

Goodreads | Instagram

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