Category: Book Giveaways

Blog Tour for From These Ashes (Haven Hart #4) by Davidson King (excerpt and giveaway)

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FROM THESE ASHES

Haven Hart Series, Book 4

DAVIDSON KING

RELEASE DATE: 11.28.18

From-These-Ashes---EBook-Cover--CMYK - Copy

 

Cover Design: Covers by Designs by Morningstar https://www.facebook.com/groups/CoversbyDesignsbyMorningstar/about/

BLURB

A product of his past, Black spends half his time saving lives and the other half taking them. Every day, a hard choice must be made and he’s the man to make it. Long ago, he vowed to never love again; one-night stands with a willing body was all he ever needed. But along came Quill, and Black’s life is irrevocably changed. He never expects something as simple as Quill’s persistence to alter the way he not only sees the world, but how he lives it.

Quill has bad taste in men and equally horrible luck. Growing up wasn’t easy, surviving is even harder. When his past and present collide, he’s convinced he’ll finally witness his own destruction. But when an unlikely antihero steps in to protect him, his life is turned on its head. He’s spent months flirting with the man of his dreams and hoping he’d take notice. But it turns out, being on Black’s radar isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, and his idea of protection varies greatly from Quill’s.

Unknowingly sharing the same goal—burying their own pasts deeper than the fires of hell can reach—they’re both unaware that jumping into that fire will do more than ignite their feelings, it could lead to their own demise. Will Black and Quill be consumed by the flames, or from these ashes, will they find their own happily ever after?

Universal Link: mybook.to/FromTheseAshes

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From-These-Ashes---Promo-Image-#3---Quill

EXCERPT

Black

I parked my car as close to Joker’s Sin as I could. I took my leather jacket off the seat and quickly put it on, hit the alarm, and made my way toward the club. There was still a line after midnight. The place closed in two hours, why would people wait that long? Well, I wasn’t.

“Can I help you?” the large bouncer asked.

“No.” I barreled through him and made my way into the club. It was like dubstep nation in there and so much fucking leather.

“Hey.” I felt someone tap my shoulder. I whipped around and grabbed whomever it was by the neck. It was the bouncer from the door.

“Not today, Junior. You tell Atlas, Black is here. Now fuck off.” I pushed him away and made my way to the bar. I hadn’t been inside Joker’s Sin before, I only knew how it looked based on Mace and Bill’s description.

I liked the concept and would’ve taken more time to appreciate it if I wasn’t hell-bent on finding Quill.

“Can I help you, handsome?” I turned and looked down. A small guy with pink hair and barely-there black leather shorts had spoken.

“No. Where’s Quill?”

The small man slid his fingers down my arm. “Mmm. Quill didn’t tell me he had a God for a boyfriend. You’re better than most I see him with.” He jerked his head to the right. I followed the direction and there before me, was Quill.

He was dressed in red leather. I couldn’t see below the waist, but the vest he wore was tight against his pale skin. I knew he loved his bracelets, and he had them all on tonight. His arms were covered in red and silver glitter, making him stick out like a gorgeous disco ball. It looked like he had put all of his piercings back in, and I could see when the light shown on his face, he also had glitter on his cheeks.

“I’ll just leave you to it,” the small man said with a chuckle, and I took the few steps to where Quill stood mixing drinks.

He hadn’t noticed me yet, and I got a chance to see he had red eyes and black liner on his lids. He looked like pure sin. I was surprised when I felt my cock stiffen. Until now, I was never sexually interested in Quill. Okay, to be fair, I admired him. He was stunning, but there was a line cut somewhere between admiration and want.  Why was I feeling something now?

“Are you following me?” Quill’s voice snapped me back to attention.

“I thought you wanted me to follow you.”

Quill narrowed his eyes, but I saw how he swallowed as he took me in. He was a flirt by nature and no matter how peeved he was at me, he could never sustain that anger.

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Davidson King, always had a hope that someday her daydreams would become real-life stories. As a child, you would often find her in her own world, thinking up the most insane situations. It may have taken her awhile, but she made her dream come true with her first published work, Snow Falling.

When she’s not writing you can find her blogging away on Diverse Reader, her review and promotional site. She managed to wrangle herself a husband who matched her crazy and they hatched three wonderful children.

If you were to ask her what gave her the courage to finally publish, she’d tell you it was her amazing family and friends. Support is vital in all things and when you’re afraid of your dreams, it will be your cheering section that will lift you up.

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Release Blitz – Full O’Festive Spirits by Zakarrie Clarke (excerpt and giveaway)

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Book Title: Full O’Festive Spirits

Author: Zakarrie Clarke

Publisher: Self-published

Genre/s: Contemporary romance

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length:  40 000 words

Release Date: December 16, 2018

Buy Links:

Amazon US https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07LF2PNRN

Amazon UK https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07LF2PNRN

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Blurb

Gabriel is staggered, upon overhearing two old dears declare that only 21 shopping days remain ’til Christmas. He hadn’t even noticed that December had dawned, far too busy being grim ‘n’ grumpy to be bothered. This, after losing his job—again—leaving him too fed-up of enforced thriftiness to differentiate days that did not. Let alone recall the date on the calen— A thought that sends Gabriel scuttling off the bus, in a belated bid to secure his favourite part of the festive season…an advent calendar. If they have any left. Upon clattering into the nearest shop, he finds himself coshed by the most splendid sight he e’er did see. A Christmas Feast for the eyeballs so sublime, it seemed—for a hectic heartbeat—that they’d all come at once. As the latter was a feat so improbable in said company, they definitely had not.

Dylan is much dismayed by the ramshackle litter of limbs and belongings that trips into the off-license, halfway through his shift. It being way too early for the drunk and determinedly irritating to come staggering in. In the wake of arriving too late to audition for a role he’d set his heart on, Dylan is no mood to deal with a human hatstand—doe-eyed and demented—intent upon purchasing a bloody advent calendar. On the third of December. For himself. Strewth. Could fate have possibly dumped a less welcome portent of festivities doomed to disaster on the doorstep?  

Excerpt

Dylan’s trip down misery lane was rudely interrupted by the teeth-gritting jangle of the bell that heralded the entrance of each customer. Reason enough to want to bolt the bloody door to ensure that no one could set the damn thing off.

“Oh, bugger…”

Christ, no. It was way too early for the pissed-up and perennially irritating to start staggering in. Dylan glared at the ramshackle onslaught of limbs and belongings that clattered into the shop. This, with a godawful racket reminiscent of a one-man band, created by what appeared to be: one person, a single guitar, and some plastic bags. The latter were either full of saucepan lids, tambourines and stray cats…or, the customer could cause chaos in a broom cupboard. On his own. Neither of which boded well for the duration. He would no doubt browse for fifteen minutes, knock Dylan’s painstaking display of colour coordinated decorations off the shelf—then insist on arguing about fuck-all—before finally purchasing a cheap lighter, some Rizzla papers and a Snickers bar.  

Dylan had, clearly, been working in an off-license far too long. This had been true about an hour into his first shift, despite the fifteen percent staff reduction that had clinched the deal in the first place. Dylan watched, incredulous, as the litter of limbs and baggage rearranged itself into something that resembled a human figure. Albeit, a far too…extravagant one. Then, he lifted his head.  

How simple that sounded. The customer’s face had formerly been obscured by the brim of his hat; a battered black trilby, barely a shade darker than eyes as bottomless as they were huge. Framed by excessive eyelashes and skin so pale, he could have played Pierrot, sans make-up. A fact not helped by lips so wind-chapped, they looked kiss-bitten. Or, he’d earned enough to buy more than a packet of bloody Rizzla and a Snickers in the very recent past. If he hadn’t already blown it on his next fix. Get a grip. Who the hell would cart a guitar around with them, while out pulling punters? Punters, f’fucksakes?

“Hiya.” His little-boy-lost features lit up in a smile as startling as his voice; coming from a body comprised of far too many corners. Dylan had expected clipped cockney tones or a harsh estuary drawl. The ‘hiya’ had scarce classified as a word, it had been but a wisp of melody. This particular nugget of nonsense was followed by the belated awareness that Dylan was standing like a lemon, dumbstruck. Ensnared in the dark spotlight of a gaze akin to a steel-jaw trap…

About the Author

After moving to London at eighteen and flitting about for far too long, Zakarrie settled, as blissy as can be, by the sea. ’Twas here that her castaway dreams re-surfaced and she began to write; stories that are, in truth, better at being her than she’s ever been. Her one hope now is that someone, somewhere, will enjoy the misadventures of her miscreants as much as she adores writing them.

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The Holiday Story Season Continues with Operation Toy Rescue by Sarah Hadley Brook (excerpt and giveaway)

 

Buy Links: Amazon US | Amazon UK | JMS Books
 
Length: 29,000 words approx.
 
Publisher: JMS Books
 
Blurb
 

When Jules Evergreen lands in trouble at the North Pole and gets shipped off to Snow Hope Island for ninety days, he never expects to take up the cause of the forgotten toys waiting for new homes. Falling for his new boss is not on the agenda either, but his heart has other ideas.


Felix Winterson has grown up on Snow Hope Island and now runs the place. He isn’t thrilled when party boy Jules arrives, and Felix tries hard to ignore the man’s charms. He has other problems, anyway. For years he’s tried to get Santa to look at the growing inventory of damaged toys in the warehouse, to no avail.


When Jules comes up with a plan to save the toys, the men find themselves working closely together. As Christmas Eve looms, there’s a lot at stake. Can they save Snow Hope, convince Santa to rescue the toys, and fall in love all at the same time?

 
Excerpt



He was surprised that no one else was in the building yet. Unless they were upstairs in the loft, or locked away in an office. He thought he’d seen Eve’s coat hanging from a peg up front.


Jules opened the laptop and logged in, ready to get started. He really wanted to take that trip to the warehouse with Felix and the quicker he finished logging things in, the quicker that could happen. As he carefully opened a rather large box, he heard a door open and turned to see Felix, Eve, and Zuzu hurry out of Felix’s office. All wore a look of panic and his heart jumped.


“What’s wrong?” he asked as Eve grew closer.


“The Big Guy is coming for a visit three days before Christmas! We just found out. He never does this. Never, Jules.” Her voice rose as she spilled the news.


Jules glanced at Felix and caught his eye, holding it for a moment. “Isn’t Santa coming a good thing?” he asked, confused.


“We don’t know. He never does this. Never,” Eve reiterated.


“She’s right. He doesn’t. What if he wants to make major changes? Or move us to the North Pole?” Felix asked.


Jules crinkled his brow. In his mind, moving to the North Pole would be great. Felix would be closer to Jules. “You don’t want to live at the North Pole?”


All three of them looked at him in shock, their mouths gaping open.


“What?” he asked.


“The North Pole is headquarters. It’s chaos,” Zuzu explained.


Okay, I’ll give them that. But there were good things, too.


“But you’d be closer to …” he flicked his gaze to Felix and felt his cheeks heat up. “The main operation,” he finished lamely.


“But we like it here. Our island is beautiful and we’re like a family. What if we’re torn apart?”


“I don’t think Santa –”


“You don’t know, Jules,” Eve broke in. “Maybe he thinks we don’t do enough to help these toys.”


Felix was vigorously nodding his agreement, so Jules shut his mouth and sat down in front of his laptop, considering the possibilities. He finally glanced back up, his lips curving up into a small smile as he eyed all three. “Then I guess there’s only one thing to do, guys. We need to show Santa how important the island is to children all over the globe.”


“How do we do that?” Eve asked quietly, her brow furrowed.


“By developing a kick ass plan to get these ‘inadequate toys’ into the hands of kids,” he explained, using air quotes. It was really just expanding what he and Felix had talked about last night. But calling it a plan made it feel more real. More promising.


Again, they gaped at him. Well, all but Felix. He was grinning. Happiness filled Jules’s chest and his heart raced as he grinned back, warmth spreading through him. Their gazes held and Jules felt like Felix was peering inside of him. Like he was seeing the real Jules. Not the guy that always screwed up. Not the guy that only thought of himself. But the one that finally — finally — wanted to do something worthy. Something that would bring others joy.


“Jules is right. We need to work together to show Santa we can handle the responsibility of taking care of the toys on this island. To prepare them for new homes. To convince him to take them with him on Christmas Eve.” Felix straightened his shoulders as determination flitted across his face and hope flashed in his eyes.


Jules couldn’t look away. The man was beautiful in every way.


Author Bio

Sarah Hadley Brook lives smack-dab in the middle of the Heartland and is the mother of two wonderful young men, as well as two cats. During the day, she works in the nonprofit world, but reserves evenings for her hobby-turned-passion of writing, letting the characters she conjures in her mind take the lead and show her where the story will go. When not working or writing, she can be found reading, working on dollhouses, trying her hand at new recipes, or watching old movies and musicals. In her ideal world, Christmas would come at least twice a year, Rock Hudson and Doris Day would have costarred in more than three movies, and chocolate would be a daily necessity. She dreams of traveling to Scotland some day and visiting the places her ancestors lived. Sarah believes in “Happily Ever After” and strives to ensure her characters find their own happiness in love and life.


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Love the Texas Series? Then Check out the Holiday Story Home for Christmas (Texas #9) by R.J. Scott (excerpt and giveaway)

 

Buy Links: Amazon US | Amazon UK 
 
Length: 45,000 words approx.
 
Cover Design: Meredith Russell
 

Texas Series


Book #1 – The Heart of Texas – Amazon US | Amazon UK
Book #2 – Texas Winter – Amazon US | Amazon UK
Book #3 – Texas Heat – Amazon US | Amazon UK
Book #4 – Texas Family – Amazon US | Amazon UK
Book #5 – Texas Christmas – Amazon US | Amazon UK
Book #6 – Texas Fall – Amazon US | Amazon UK
Book #7 – Texas Wedding – Amazon US | Amazon UK
Book #8 – Texas Gift – Amazon US | Amazon UK

 
Blurb
 

Can Connor show River a real family Christmas?


When Connor finds River on the roof of the campus admin building, he doesn’t know what to do. His friend is drunk, and shouting into a snowstorm, a bottle of vodka in his hand. The easy part is getting River down; the hard part is insisting River comes home with Connor for Christmas.


River doesn’t have a family, or any place outside of college that he calls home. Not that it matters to him; he’s happy being alone for Christmas in his budget motel, watching reruns of Elf. Only, Connor keeps telling wildly improbable stories of the perfect family celebrations at his parents’ ranch in Texas, and it’s wearing River down. He didn’t ask to be kidnapped. He didn’t want to fall in love with the entire Campbell-Hayes family. But he does.


From one Christmas to the next. This is Connor’s year to rescue River, and himself, for them both to mess things up, make things right, fall in lust and finally, for Connor to show the man he loves what being part of a family can mean.

 
Excerpt
 
Chapter 1


Connor skidded to a stop.


The cold December wind whipped around his face, ice and snow knifing into his skin, and at first, he couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing.


Maybe he should have stopped, called 911, shouted for help, but it could’ve been too late, so he’d acted on instinct alone. He’d taken the four flights of stairs at a run, reaching the roof and throwing the door open. His lungs burned from the freezing air and his voice had gone. What now?


Why was River on the roof in nothing but jeans and a T-shirt, clearly drunk? Why was he standing on the ledge, his feet spread, his arms wide, and a bottle of vodka in his hand?


When the girl from his floor told him she’d seen River go up to the roof, he thought she’d meant something else. He often went up there to read or watch life go by. But not in a snow storm.


He didn’t expect to see River standing on the ledge in the snow.


Don’t scare him. He’ll stumble and fall. He might jump.


A gust of air slapped Connor. River swayed to the left but righted himself with the casual grace of a gymnast. River wouldn’t fall by accident. Hell, Connor had seen him balance on one hand on a diving board, perfectly still, before falling gracefully and accurately with spins and pikes into the water below. He’d never seen River falter.


“River?” Connor asked, only an inch from grabbing River’s shirt and holding him tight. He saw River tense, but he didn’t wobble in surprise or slip and fall to the ground.


“I canbalance. Look at me.” River sounded so damn proud of himself.


Connor took a small step forward, finally being able to hold River’s shirt, hoping to hell that would be enough to stop River from falling.


“Come down, buddy.”


River lifted the bottle over his head, sloshing alcohol over his hair, his tongue flicking out to catch any that ran over his face.


“Fuck,” he shouted.


Connor tugged at him, not knowing what else to do. “Come back,” he said, loud enough that River actually looked at him.


“Leave me alone,” he said.


“I’m not leaving you on the roof,” Connor snapped and got a better hold of River, hooking a finger into his belt. River wasn’t a big guy, a diver’s body, no more than five ten and a buck sixty soaking wet, but if he fell, would Connor be able to hold him long enough to save him?


River pulled against Connor’s grip, and for a second the world stopped turning as Connor had to use his entire body weight to keep him upright. Something about the action must have scared River. He cursed and rocked backward, but he still wouldn’t come down.


“Come down,” Connor pleaded. “You’re scaring me.”


“You think you gotta save me? Huh?” River threw his arms wide again, more alcohol sloshing over the top of the bottle. “I don’t need saving.”


“I want you to come down.” Connor tried for calm. What was he doing? He should have called the cops immediately when he spotted River. Or firefighters, negotiators? Or whoever the hell should’ve been here. He’d seen things like this on the television, the mediator knowing all the right things to say and do, standing by River and connecting him to his family or childhood or his faith. All Connor knew was that he needed to pull River down, use the only thing he had going for him; the fact that he was bigger and stronger.


“I like it up here!” River explained with another wide gesture. He wobbled a little but righted himself immediately.


“Come down, Riv.”


“Saint Connor tries to save everyone,” River shouted, ending with a hysterical laugh. He was clearly losing control of himself, and even if Connor did have the words to talk him down, he thought maybe he’d just yank River back onto the concrete roof of the building and worry about injuries later.


But River wasn’t finished. “Even if they don’t need saving!”


“River!”


“Who the hell cares if I can balance, huh?”


“I care,” Connor shouted back. This was so out of character.


“Yeah, right, telling me what Christmas and family is like for you, making me see it in my head, and then leaving me here alone.”


“River, please.” Connor tugged him, but River wouldn’t move back.


“Leaving me here, alone, because that’s all anyone ever does. They fuck off, leave me, and what happens when college is over, huh? What happens when I lose that?” He lifted one clenched fist to the sky. “Fuck you!”


Connor had never heard River curse like this, and he was done with holding on to him. So evaluating where they would end up if they fell backward and not caring how much it hurt, he yanked, hard. River tumbled with him, arms flailing and the vodka bottle slipping from his grasp and falling into the tub of snow-covered plants on the roof patio. The two of them fell onto the roof, Connor using his body to cushion River’s descent, getting his arms full of an icy cold man, the breath forced from his lungs when they hit the ground.


Connor enveloped him in his arms and locked his hands in place, fighting a frozen, wet, drunk River. He wouldn’t get free. Connor had his pappa’s height, a rancher’s build, and he was a solid anchor in the wind and snow. There was no point in River fighting, and somehow he must have realized he couldn’t get free and went still in Connor’s arms.


All Connor could think was that he’d wanted River back in his arms for a long time now, but he’d expected soft lighting and mood music, not driving winds and snow.


“What the hell are you doing?” Connor demanded.


“Let me the fuck go.”


“Jesus, are you trying to kill yourself?”


River attempted to wriggle free. Connor’s grip didn’t falter in his hold. With his arms securely around River, he shuffled them back so they were protected by the low wall. He wanted to get them back inside, but he wasn’t ready to let River go yet, and the door was at least ten feet away. What if River wriggled free and ran for the ledge? The idea of River on the ground, twisted in death, blood… Connor didn’t want to think about it. He opened his coat, one-handed, and then pulled River closer, trying to get as much of the material to go over him, attempting to keep them both warm. River’s skin was like ice. How long had he been standing up there?


“What were you doing?” he demanded, but River didn’t reply, only burrowed deeper into Connor’s hold. This was stupid. He needed to get them off the roof, or he needed help. His phone was in the car. The campus was emptying for Christmas. It was ten a.m., snowing. What the hell was he going to do now?


“I have no one,” River muttered, then laughed and buried his face deeper.


“What do you mean? Talk to me, River.”


“No.”


“We need to get inside.”


How the hell do I get River inside?


He imagined struggling with River’s weight, trying to get him down four flights of stairs and across to his room. Maybe if he could just get him to the car, with its heated seats and the warm air blower and the coffee in a flask that Connor had made for the start of his journey back to Dallas. Then he could call someone, the cops or a doctor? That seemed like a plan, a focus. He scrambled to his feet, bringing River with him, and stumbled inside. As soon as the door shut, warmth hit them, prickling at his exposed skin, and he moved toward the radiator, still gripping River’s belt. He let go of him long enough to remove his jacket and place it around the shivering man’s shoulders.


River buried himself in the coat, and Connor went into disaster assessment mode. He’d seen hypothermia back home at the D, and it wasn’t pretty. He remembered his pappa saying there were signs to look for, and when Jack spoke, Connor always listened. He pulled up the facts he could remember. Did River have hypothermia? His teeth weren’t chattering, and he wasn’t talking at all, so it wasn’t obvious if he was slurring. Then, even if he did talk and his speech was slurry, how could Connor tell how much vodka he’d drunk? Connor tried to remember the symptoms. The college hospital wasn’t far away. He could drive there, and they would help.


Why the hell did I leave my phone in the damned car?


“It’s okay. I’m okay.”


“No, you’re not.”


“You can go,” River said dully. He wriggled closer to the radiator.


“I’m not going anywhere.”


“But you are,” River murmured. “You kissed me, you got me off, and now you’re leaving today.” Then he hid his face in his hands. “Shit, shit, shit.”


Wait. Was this about what happened at the thanksgiving party?


Is this my fault?


Connor didn’t usually drink that much, but he’d had one beer too many at the party, to the point where he had all the courage he needed to wait for River to come out of the bathroom.


“Can I kiss you?” he’d asked, and River had stared at him, stone-cold sober and narrow-eyed.


But then, holy shit, River had pushed him back into the nearest bedroom, shut the door, and the kiss had turned into something more, hands tangled in hair, the two of them kissing and rutting against each other until they were coming in their jeans. Really unromantic. Nothing more than getting off, and River had left before Connor could even get his breath back. Not the best of outcomes. Then River had ignored him. Not returning texts, no more study sessions in the library, and he’d even missed the last lecture of the semester.


All of that told Connor on thing: River wasn’t interested in anything more with him. But that didn’t mean they weren’t still friends. They sat in silence for a few minutes, River’s face still buried in his hands, and he was clearly crying.


What the hell should I do now?

USA Today bestselling author RJ Scott writes stories with a heart of romance, a troubled road to reach happiness, and most importantly, a happily ever after.


RJ Scott is the author of over one hundred romance books, writing 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.


She’s always thrilled to hear from readers, bloggers and other writers. Please contact via the links below:

 

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New Release Tour for Meik&Sebastian (Obsessed #4) by Quin Perin (excerpt and giveaway)

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Book Title: Meik&Sebastian – Obsessed #4

Author: Quin Perin

Publisher: Self-Published

Cover Artist: Garrett Leigh

Genre/s: Gay Erotic Romance

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length:  18 000 words/ 75 pages

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Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

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Blurb

After ruining his chances with Sebastian, Meik is plagued by the past and haunted by the present. His escape: booze and sex. But the memories of Gabe continuously well up and never ebb. They become an ever-present companion he cannot escape.

Will he hoist himself out of depression to seal the past and face the present or will he lose himself in the bottom of the bottle?

This is the fourth and FINAL book of the Gay Erotic Romance “Obsessed”. It features explicit adult m/m content as well as romantic elements. Warning: mentions of illness and death.

Excerpt

Meik checked his hair in the rearview mirror. One more time before slipping out of his father’s car. He’d pulled it up to the curb in front of Gabe’s house about ten minutes ago; he’d spent all of those ten minutes fixing his hair. Again and again. It was obsessive, and he knew it, but he wanted to look his best for Gabe.

Smoothing down his shirt, he headed to the front door and rang the doorbell. He waited for a beat before pushing the door open. Gabe’s mother paused in the doorway, eyeing Meik. “Oh, it’s you,” she said, not remotely surprised to see him.

“Well, nice to see you too.” Meik snorted.

She waved her hand, looking up at the stairs. “Gabe! Meik’s here!” she called before facing Meik again. “Where are you two going?”

Meik stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “There’s a new movie, and we might go get something to eat after.” He left out that they’d probably end up making out in the car at some point. They’d agreed to keep the date thing a secret, and they were definitely keeping the making out and heavy petting to themselves as well.

Nodding, she headed back to the kitchen. “Don’t stay out too late and let me know if you’ll spend the night.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned.

“Don’t call me ma’am!”

Meik’s comeback died on his tongue when he heard footsteps on the stairs. His eyes fixed on Gabe, heart throbbing madly in his chest. Neither of them had dressed out of the ordinary. They didn’t want to raise suspicion, but Meik still thought Gabe looked breathtaking. His dark eyes glittered, and a rose petal pink blush adorned his cheeks. The clothes he wore were a bit tighter than normal, jeans clung to slender thighs, and a fitted t-shirt emphasized his thin, narrow chest. Meik’s palms itched with the desire to touch, to grope. He wanted to see what that ass looked like without those pants on.

Swallowing, Meik turned towards the door. “Ready to go?” He was surprised at how calm he sounded. His mouth felt dry, tongue heavy.

“Yeah,” Gabe replied, a thud signifying that he’d jumped down the last two steps. He always did that, and his mother always said he was going to break an ankle one day. “Bye, mom!”

“Bye, honey, be careful!” She didn’t even peek out again.

Meik almost felt bad. They weren’t lying. Not really. They were going to hang out, just as more than friends. It had been Gabe’s idea not to tell his parents and telling Meik’s had never been an option. Gabe thought if his parents—especially his mother—found out, Meik wouldn’t be allowed to come over and stay the night anymore. It made a lot of sense, and if things progressed with them, the cover of being friends would make it so much easier to get Gabe into bed.

Not that Meik had spent way too much time fantasizing about that lately.

About the Authors

This is Quin&Perin. We are a team of Sultry Gay Romance writers who focus on detailed, toe-curling, and realistic smut scenes with a fair share of dirty talking (Oh, boy). Unlike other authors, we write without the goal of publishing anything. Publishing is just the cherry on top of a cream-covered bubble butt.

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Book Blast for Blessed (The Matawapit Family #1) by Maggie Blackbird (excerpt and giveaway)

BOOK BLAST

Book Title:  Blessed

Author:  Maggie Blackbird

Publisher:  eXasty Books

Cover Artist:  Martine Jardin

Genre/s:  M/M, Contemporary, Spiritual, Religious, Multi-Cultural, Romance

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 92,784 words/330 pages

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Tagline  

A mixed-blood Catholic seminarian struggles to discern his true calling: the priesthood or his ex-lover, a proud but damaged Ojibway man.

Blurb

It’s been ten years since Emery Matawapit sinned, having succumbed to temptation for the one thing in his life that felt right, another man. In six months he’ll make a life-changing decision that will bar him from sexual relationships for the rest of his life.

Darryl Keejik has a decade-long chip on his shoulder, and he holds Emery’s father, the church deacon, responsible for what he’s suffered: the loss of his family and a chance at true love with Emery. No longer a powerless kid, Darryl has influence within the community—maybe more than the deacon. Darryl intends on using his power to destroy Deacon Matawapit and his church.

Hoping to save the church, Emery races home. But stopping Darryl is harder than expected when their sizzling chemistry threatens to consume Emery. Now he is faced with the toughest decision of his life: please his devout parents and fulfill his call to the priesthood, or remain true to his heart and marry the man created for him.

An erotic spiritual journey…

Buy Links

 eXasty Books  |  Amazon US    |  Amazon Canada   |  Amazon UK    |  Amazon AU  

Kobo    |  Nook    |  Google   |  Smashwords

Excerpt

The putter of a diesel engine carried to where they stood at the side of the house.

“Sounds like the priest’s clunker.” Clayton puffed on the cigarette.

Knots formed in Darryl’s stomach. Did Emery accompany Father Bennie? What the heck was the priest doing up at Long River? Darryl lived at the reserve’s most northern district, far from Grassy, where the Matawapits resided.

Don’t watch them go by.

The car slowed and then turned into the driveway. Black, wavy hair appeared in the windshield. Hot tingles shot through Darryl’s arms and legs. He’d better get himself under control. Running into the coward was expected. It was the reason why he’d raced around the reserve like a fool earlier, trying to figure out what to say when they eventually crossed paths.

Had Emery come to apologize? Maybe reconnect? Wait a second. Someone had probably sent him. In the past, he hadn’t possessed the testicular fortitude to initiate anything. Father Bennie and Deacon Matawapit were up to something.

“Is that Emery?” Clayton frowned.

“Yeah. Gimme a second.” Darryl marched around the side of the house. When the car door opened, he froze.

Emery’s long legs appeared. He straightened to a towering six-foot-something. His red lips, smooth, pale skin, and high cheekbones melted Darryl’s insides. Tight muscles filled out Emery’s blue polo shirt and white dress pants. His hair curled around his square shoulders. This wasn’t a skinny seventeen-year-old kid who’d favored worn jeans, hiking boots, and t-shirts, but a twenty-seven-year-old elegant man.

“Hello. I was hoping to catch you at home.” Emery doffed his sunglasses, exposing his thick black lashes and bright green eyes. He tapped his shades against firm thighs Darryl had caressed during the best time of his life.

Although Emery’s voice was deeper, the feathery tone still stroked Darryl deep inside his jeans. Quivering, he spat out a, “Hel—hi…” He cleared his throat of the damned frog making him sound like an idiot. “Hello.”

“I-I planned on stopping by sooner.” Emery’s gaze roamed in every direction. “I was busy… unpacking”

Darryl motioned to the side of the house. “I was heading out for a drive once I finish talking to someone.”

“Oh…” Emery’s gaze settled on Clayton, who appeared around the corner. “I’ll come back another day when you’re not busy.” Disappointment lined his voice. “Have a good night.”

When Emery turned for the car, Darryl’s frozen heart churned into overdrive. The question jumped from his mouth. “Where’re you going?”

Emery pivoted. “Back to the rectory. It’s where I’m staying during my visit.”

Darryl stifled his groan. Call him a sucker for asking. “You came here for a reason. Why?”

“Uh… I—” Emery held a fist to his mouth and coughed. “Do you have time for a walk?”

A shiver careened along Darryl’s spine. Instead of being prodded, Emery, of all people, had initiated something.

Clayton’s slim brows twisted downwards. “I guess we’re done?”

Everyone knew how tight Emery and Darryl had once been. The cunning coyote had better not think of Darryl as a traitor who’d lose focus on the Traditionalists Society’s mandate now that Emery was back. “We can finish our convo tomorrow. Stop by my office in the morning.”

“Never mind. I’m outta here.” Clayton stamped to his pick-up parked on the side of the road. He glowered at Emery, who returned the frown with a nod.

Fire crackled through Darryl’s veins. Hostility and rudeness to another wasn’t the purpose of the Traditionalists Society.

“We can meet at the Treaty Grounds.” Darryl used an even tone, though his pulse points raced faster than a bear chasing down dinner. “Right now my road’s pretty much the Trans Canada.”

A truck pulling a skiff rambled by.

“Everyone’s heading out for the evening fish.”

“Okay.” Emery’s mouth remained closed while his full lips moved upward. He had the same shy smile capable of melting Darryl’s limbs. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Sure.” Darryl slid on the four-wheeler.

Emery opened the car door and got in. He drove off and left a trail of dust in his wake.

Darryl turned the key. The machine’s engine roared to life. This couldn’t be happening. Someone must have plopped him in the middle of a dream. Who was the courageous man who’d come of his own accord?

He steered the four-wheeler down the driveway. People changed. Before entering St. Michael’s Seminary, Emery had lived in Thunder Bay to attend university. Being out from under his father’s thumb had probably given his confidence a much-needed boost.

His dad’s here and he sought me out.

Had Emery told Father Bennie his intentions for the evening? Where would their talk lead to? There was only one way to find out—drive faster to the Treaty Grounds.

About the Author

An Ojibway from Northwestern Ontario, Maggie resides in the country with her husband and their fur babies, two beautiful Alaskan Malamutes.  When she’s not writing, she can be found pulling weeds in the flower beds, mowing the huge lawn, walking the Mals deep in the bush, teeing up a ball at the golf course, fishing in the boat for walleye, or sitting on the deck at her sister’s house, making more wonderful memories with the people she loves most.

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a $15.00 eXasty Books/Devine Destinies gift card and one e-copy of Blessed.

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Love Rockers in Love Stories? Check out the Review Tour and Giveaway for Dedicated (Rhythm Of Love #1) by Neve Wilder

 

Buy Links: Amazon US | Amazon UK
 
Length: 92,000 words approx.
 
Cover Design: Mayhem Cover Creations
 
Blurb
 

“Our greatest hit is a love song I wrote for my bandmate. And he has no idea.”


Messy-haired, soulful-eyed, off-kilter lyricist Les Graves holds tight to the hedonist’s credo of consumption in every avenue of life. He has trouble staying still, trouble staying sober, trouble turning down a good time—but put a pen in his hand, and he’ll set a page on fire.


Music was Evan Porter’s ticket out of the backwater mud puddle he was born in, the passion keeping him warm as he busked on street corners, fueling him through a dead-end bartending job. Every chord, every song, every ounce of sweat has been devoted to making Porter & Graves a success. He’s the level-head, the quiet maestro, the seatbelt that keeps Les from flying too far out of control. And he’s getting pretty tired of playing savior.


Their chemistry onstage is electric, but offstage it’s another story.


Angst, snark, and nuclear levels of unresolved sexual tension combust in this tale of two rockers, a handful of secrets, a bombed album, and a publicity nightmare thrown in a remote cabin with one shot at redemption. Can Evan and Les find harmony or will they—and their music career—go down in flames?


Dedicated is a 92k standalone bisexual friends-to-lovers romance that also plays on the fake relationship trope, contains a cockblocking greenhouse, really poor decisions involving social media, and a borderline over-the-top HEA.


*Please note: This book contains reference to and depiction of a MMF scene*



Dec 11 – OMG Reads, Dec 13 – Amy’s MM Romance Reviews, Dec 15 – Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words, Dec 17 – Book Corner Reviews, Wicked Reads, Dec 19 – Valerie Ullmer, Lillian Francis

 

Read Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words Review here.  We highly recommend it!

Neve Wilder lives in the dirty South, where the summers are hot and the winters are…sometimes cold. She is a mom to three rambunctious weebeasts who have joined forces in a mission to carpet the family home with toys and small items that really suck to step on at six in the morning.


She reads promiscuously, across multiple genres, but her favorite stories always contain an element of romance. Incidentally, this is also what she likes to write. Slow-burners with delicious tension? Yes. Whiplash-inducing page-turners, also yes. Down and dirty scorchers? Yes. And every flavor in between.


She believes David Bowie was the sexiest musician to ever live, and she’s always game to nerd out on anything from music to writing.


And finally, she believes that love conquers all. Except the heat index in July. Nothing can conquer that bastard.


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Review Tour and Giveaway for Christmas Homecoming (A Christmas Angel story) by L.A. Witt

 

 

Buy Links: Amazon US | Amazon UK

Length: 24,000 words approx.

Cover Design: Meredith Russell

The Christmas Angel Series

Christmas Angel – Eli Easton – Amazon US | Amazon UK
Summerfield’s Angel – Kim Fielding – Amazon US | Amazon UK
The Magician’s Angel – Jordan L. Hawk – Amazon US | Amazon UK
A Soldier’s Wish – N.R. Walker – Amazon US | Amazon UK
Shrewd Angel – Anyta Sunday – Amazon US | Amazon UK
Christmas Prince – RJ Scott- Amazon US | Amazon UK

Blurb

August 1939. Roger Miller and Jack O’Brien have been close since childhood. By the time they realize there’s more between them than friendship, Jack is leaving their sleepy Iowa town for college. But they console themselves knowing he’ll be home for Christmas. Right?

It is Christmas before they see each other again, but that Christmas comes six years and a world war later. Aged, beaten, and shaken by combat, they’re not the boys they were back then, but their feelings for each other are stronger than ever.

Neither know the words to say everything they’ve carried since that peacetime summer kiss, though. Even as they stand in the same room, there’s a thousand miles between them.

But maybe that’s some distance the little angel in Roger’s rucksack can cross.

This 24,000 word novella is part of the multi-author Christmas Angel series, and can be read as a standalone.

The Christmas Angel Series

In 1750, a master woodcarver poured all his unrequited love, passion, and longing into his masterpiece—a gorgeous Christmas angel for his beloved’s tree. When the man he loved tossed the angel away without a second thought, a miracle happened. The angel was found by another who brought the woodcarver True Love.

Since then, the angel has been passed down, sold, lost and found, but its magic remains. Read the romances inspired by (and perhaps nudged along by) the Christmas angel through the years. Whether it’s 1700s England (Eli Easton’s Christmas Angel), the 1880’s New York (Kim Fielding’s Summerfield’s Angel), the turn-of-the-century (Jordan L. Hawk’s Magician’s Angel), World War II (L.A. Witt’s Christmas Homecoming), Vietnam-era (N.R. Walker’s Soldier’s Wish), the 1990’s (Anyta Sunday’s Shrewd Angel), or 2018 (RJ Scott’s Christmas Prince), the Christmas angel has a way of landing on the trees of lonely men who need its blessing for a very Merry Christmas and forever HEA.

Read Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words review here.  We highly recommend it.

L.A. Witt is an abnormal M/M romance writer who has finally been released from the purgatorial corn maze of Omaha, Nebraska, and now spends her time on the southwestern coast of Spain. In between wondering how she didn’t lose her mind in Omaha, she explores the country with her husband, several clairvoyant hamsters, and an ever-growing herd of rabid plot bunnies. She also has substantially more time on her hands these days, as she has recruited a small army of mercenaries to search South America for her nemesis, romance author Lauren Gallagher, but don’t tell Lauren. And definitely don’t tell Lori A. Witt or Ann Gallagher. Neither of those twits can keep their mouths shut…

Website: http://www.gallagherwitt.com
E-mail: gallagherwitt@gmail.com
Twitter: @GallagherWitt
Blog: http://gallagherwitt.blogspot.com

 

 

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