Category: Book Tours and Contests

Check Out the Tour for “A Unique Request” by Mickie B. Ashling (new release and excerpt)

A Unique Request - Micke B. Ashling

Mickie B. Ashling has a new MMM contemporary romance out, The Basque Trilogy book one: A Unique Request. And there’s a giveaway!

Mickie has reduced the price of A Unique Request to $1.99 while the book is on tour.

Seven years have passed since Paul Alcott and Mick Henley separated, but hearing the familiar voice reinforces what Paul has known all along―he still loves Mick and wants him back.

Hope flares upon receiving a dinner invitation, but his dream evaporates when he learns that Mick is in a relationship with Basque jai alai player, Tono Garat.

To make matters worse, Paul’s services as a book editor are solicited to help Tono through the final revision of a love story he’s written.

Paul refuses until Mick reveals he’s been diagnosed with a fatal disease, and the novel is Tono’s only means of coping.

Paul and Tono resent each other, but they can’t deny the strong sexual attraction between them. Will they overcome their differences to provide the loving support necessary to sustain the man they love or will their animosity destroy Mick’s final days?

Warnings: Second chances, bittersweet, fatal disease

Get It On Amazon | QueeRomance Ink | Goodreads

Giveaway

Mickie is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour:

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Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47320/

Excerpt

A Unique request meme - Mickie B. Ashling/

A Unique Request

Mickie B. Ashling © 2024

All Rights Reserved

Paul stood outside the door, debating his decision to show up. He had a bottle of red wine in one hand and a bunch of colorful wildflowers in the other. He’d given in to a moment of sentimental weakness, and now he wondered what the hell he was doing. He turned to leave when the door was yanked open by a fractious brunet with a scowl on his face. “¿Sí?”

“Hi. I’m Paul Alcott.”

The stranger scowled and scrutinized him from the top of his shining head down his designer-clad body.

Paul was unfazed. He was just as curious about the man who’d replaced him in Mick’s life. He inspected him like he would any rival, noting the chestnut-colored hair curling around his neckline. His upper body was hidden behind a loose T-shirt, but the corded muscles of his forearms were a clear indication of what was underneath. He was striking, no doubt about it. The heated gaze was bad enough, but it was his luscious mouth that sent Paul’s mind straight to the gutter. He was shocked by his body’s quick response to this stranger, despite the obvious antagonism. He brought his hand down, covering the evidence of his growing interest with the flowers.

The Spaniard blinked and rewarded Paul with a tentative smile. “I’m Tono Garat,” he announced in a heavily accented voice.

“Nice to meet you.” Paul nodded. “Is Mick around?”

“Yes, of course. Come in, please.”

Tono spun around, and Paul zeroed in on the rounded ass covered in tight white shorts. No garter lines meant he was naked underneath, and Paul couldn’t help but notice.

“Paul!” Mick called out, rushing forward and hugging Paul tightly. “God, it’s been too long.”

“I know,” Paul said, falling under Mick’s spell within seconds. It had always been so good between them, and despite the years and the distance, the sentiment remained the same. “You’re still as gorgeous as ever.

“Oh, stop. You always were good for my ego.”

“The years have been kind to you, my friend,” Paul continued, taking in every part of Mick. He did look great, trim and fit, clean-shaven. His hair was a little longer than Paul remembered, but the dark curls framed Mick’s tanned face, making the violet-tinged eyes pop.

“You don’t look half-bad either.” Mick’s voice shifted, and the words came out like a soft caress. He toyed with a lock of Paul’s silky hair, curling it around his finger. “When did you let your hair grow?”

“After my father died; no more memos about looking professional.” Paul smirked as he recalled Paul Senior’s edicts.

“Shall I take the bottle?” Tono interrupted, looking uncomfortable. Perhaps he was aware of their long history, but seeing the chemistry was a different matter altogether.

“Sure,” Paul replied, handing over the wine.

“I made a pitcher of sangria. Would you like a glass?” Tono asked, never taking his eyes off Paul.

“Sounds good. I’m assuming it’s authentic.”

“I made it from scratch,” Tono huffed.

“Come on,” Mick stepped in, trying to diffuse the situation. He took Paul by the arm and led him out to the tiny patio that had a wrought iron table for four and several wooden planters filled with assorted vegetables. The tomatoes were almost ripe and hanging from branches held up with green sticks. The Weber grill was off to one side―a tribute to summer and warm evenings.

“This is nice, Mick. I had no idea this was out here.”

“Not too many people do. I guess the owners were into gardening, so I benefit. It’s what attracted me to this unit in the first place.”

Paul sat down and stretched out, loving the sight of Mick after so long. “So, what have you been up to?”

“Living La Vida Loca.” Mick smiled. “I’ve been writing, of course, but mostly enjoying my life.”

“Sounds great. Are you still working on your sequel?”

“Yes, as well as something new.”

“Oh?”

“I’m helping Tono with his book.”

Paul gave Tono a frosty look. “You’re a writer?”

“I’m not,” Tono replied, placing a large wineglass with chunks of fruit in front of Paul. “I’m a professional jai alai player, but I’ve written a romance, based on my relationship with Mick.”

“A romance?” Paul turned to Mick for the answer. “Why?”

“Because I’m dying.”

Author Bio

Mickie B. Ashling

MICKIE B. ASHLING is the pseudonym of a multi-published author who resides in a suburb outside Chicago. She is a product of her upbringing in various cultures, having lived in Japan, the Philippines, Spain, and the Middle East. Fluent in three languages, she’s a citizen of the world and an interesting mixture of East and West. A little bit of this and a lot of that have brought a unique touch to her literary voice she could never learn from textbooks.

Since 2009, Mickie has written several dozen novels in the LGBTQ+ genre—which have been translated into French, Italian, Spanish, and German. Audiobooks and foreign translations are available at Amazon and Audible. Her award-winning novels have been described as “gut- wrenching, daring, and thought-provoking.”

Author Website: https://www.mickieashling.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/mickie.ashling

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mickieashling

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/217416171-a-unique-request

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/mickie-b-ashling/

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Mickie-B.-Ashling/author/B004QSCN3E

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Join us for the tour for Feuds and Interludes“ by R.L. Merrill (Other Worlds Ink Tour )

Feuds and Interludes - R.L. Merrill

R.L. Merrill has a new MM contemporary rock ‘n’ roll romance out in the Road to Rocktoberfest series: Feuds and Interludes.

From the award-winning author of Hurricane Reese, Summer of Hush, and You Can Do Magic comes a new rock star romance series inspired by legendary rock ‘n’ roll love affairs. Feuds and Interludes is a rivals-to-lovers, hurt/comfort love story complete with adorable septuagenarian lovebirds and beloved characters from Merrill’s previous rock-inspired series.

Boone Collins and Shane Butler are two of rock music’s brightest stars today. Their grandfathers founded a powerhouse rock supergroup that ruled the airwaves in the late 1970s, and the grandsons grew up in their shadows to become frontmen of their own successful bands. The epic rivalry between Boone and Shane is notorious, and it’s about to blow up.

When Shane’s grandfather Bruce inducts his deceased bandmate into the Rock Music Hall of Fame, he admits to the world that he wrote the band’s biggest hit about his best friend’s widow—Boone’s grandmother Vera Jean. The two want to rekindle their relationship, and their grandsons are determined to keep them apart. Only, working together for a common goal reveals surprising similarities between the rock stars as well as a chemistry they cannot ignore. Shane sees behind Boone’s glittery facade to the secrets he hides from his bandmates, and Boone is there to pick up the pieces when Shane’s professional world implodes. Together, they plot a musical collaboration to celebrate their grandfathers’ accomplishments instead of fighting—a star-studded tribute at the storied Rocktoberfest event in the Nevada desert—but will being in the spotlight prove to be too much for their fledgling romance to handle?

About the Series:

Feuds and Interludes is part of the multi-author Road to Rocktoberfest 2024 series. Each book can be read as a standalone, but why not read them all and see what antics our bands get into next? Hot rockstars and the men who love them, what more could you ask for. Kick back, load up your kindle, and enjoy the men of Rocktoberfest!

Universal Buy Link

Giveaway

R.L. is giving away $25 Amazon gift card with this tour:

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Excerpt

“Boone, honey, will you zip me up?”

Vera Jean Collins had the kind of beauty that turned heads, the grace of a royal, and the unshakeable poise to shrug off even the most rabid paparazzi. And tonight, all those characteristics would be put to the test.

I’d never get over how beautiful my grandmother was. The only constant in my life, she was my home, my role model, and my best friend. Wearing a form-fitting, sleeveless black dress adorned with iridescent rainbow sparkles, she had a youthful glow about her at sixty-eight years old and still commanded attention. A statuesque former actress, beleaguered rockstar wife, and now passionate philanthropist, Vera Jean Collins carried herself with an elegance that belied her years spent married to my lovable scoundrel of a grandfather.

“That tuxedo is very flattering,” she said as I stepped behind her and carefully zipped her dress to the nape of her neck. She’d pulled her long silver hair into a twist that looked professionally done, and with her heels on, she stood nearly eye-to-eye with my five-eleven frame. “I love the vest, too.”

I looked down at the navy velvet suit and gold brocade vest and smiled. “The tailor did a nice job taking it in. I think Papa would get a kick out of me wearing this. He loved this one.”

I held up the matching tie and she took it from me, gesturing for me to let her tie it. She looped it over my head and went to work, a wistful smile on her face.

“He certainly did. He bought it to irritate me, and then was frustrated when I told him that I loved how it brought out the blue in his eyes. He was always trying to pull a fast one on me.”

“And you’d always call his bluff.”

She handed me her diamond choker to fasten, and I winced when I noticed her hands were shaking. She was so brave, no matter the challenge before her, but I’d learned to notice the subtle traces of her struggles. Tonight her task would be smiling and waving at her deceased husband’s adoring fans and colleagues as he was posthumously inducted into the Rock Hall. I knew she missed him terribly. We both did.

“Kept things fun,” she said with a little shrug. She ran her fingers over her choker and relaxed her shoulders. “Always kept him guessing.”

I had my own reason for being nervous. My band, Stellar, was chosen to lead the tribute performance. In a few hours, I would be performing for an arena full of my musical heroes. With Bruce Duncan. I usually did my best when under pressure, but this was ridiculous.

“It was weird seeing Bruce at rehearsal.”

I’d grown up hearing the stories of when he and my grandfather ruled the world, but I hadn’t seen him in years and had no idea what to make of him as a person.

“Oh? How so?”

Gran stopped what she was doing and turned to face me.

“He talked to everyone else in the room but me. Well, he scolded me about the timing on one of the songs.”

“Relax, darling,” she said as she fastened her bracelet. “He’s probably just as nervous as you.”

“I’m not nervous. I know these songs like the back of my hand.”

“Right,” she said as she looked me up and down. “And that’s why your shirt is misbuttoned.”

I ran my hand down my shirt, and sure enough, I’d missed a button and the thing had a big bump in the middle sticking out from my vest. I went about undoing and redoing my shirt and vest. You’d think by the age of thirty, I’d be able to dress myself. You’d be wrong, apparently.

“Yeah, well, his infuriating grandson has probably told him terrible things about me.”

“Oh, nonsense. Shane is a good boy.”

“Boy? He’s two years older than me.”

“You two have more in common than you’d think.”

“He’s determined to be rude to me, so I guess I’ll never know.”

She was right in the sense that we came from similar backgrounds, but that’s where the similarities ended. I put together a band of unique artists interested in playing smart rock music with a point and a backbone. Shane was a hotheaded, brilliant musician who, instead of following in his grandfather’s virtuoso footsteps, had chosen to while away his time in a mediocre albeit popular metal band, making record after record of predictable drivel. He could do so much better.

“Maybe if you two walked a mile in each other’s shoes, you’d get along better. Speaking of which, do you have to wear those shoes?”

I looked at my feet and back at her. “My Chucks? Of course, I’m wearing my Chucks. They’re custom-made. Most comfortable shoes I own.” I’d chosen my gold sparkly ones tonight to match the tuxedo, so they really stood out.

She exhaled through her nose and raised an eyebrow at me. “You’re lucky you’re so handsome,” she said as she fastened her dangly diamond earrings. “You get away with a lot more that way.”

“And you wouldn’t let just anyone escort you tonight. Right. You said that already.” She could tease me all she wanted. I knew how much she loved me.

“Are you almost ready? Or do you have more metal to put in your head?”

She smiled sweetly at me and I rolled my eyes. I adjusted my septum piercing and ran my fingers over the thick silver rings in both ears. I had a stud through my tongue as well.

“I think I’m good.” I crossed my eyes at her and she wrinkled her nose. Then her smile morphed into that grandmotherly look I recognized.

“How about you, Boone? How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. All good.”

I’m not changing the shoes, though. I mentally stuck my tongue out at her.

Gran slipped her hand through my offered arm and I leaned over to kiss her on the cheek.

“Chin up, tits out,” she muttered.

“I’ll try to remember that.”

She subtly hip-bumped me and put on her most dazzling smile, no doubt practicing for the evening ahead.

I loved this woman, owed her my life, and I would stand by her side no matter what. I wanted her to be happy. She deserved happy.

As for me? I just needed to survive without making a fool of myself. I knew I was good enough to keep up with the likes of Bruce Duncan, but he’d rattled me more than I let on at that rehearsal. The idea that I wouldn’t do my grandfather’s music justice terrified me.

Papa taught me everything I needed to know to launch my career. I would do him proud tonight.

And if that meant dealing with the likes of Bruce Duncan or his aggravating grandson, Shane Butler, so be it.

Author Bio

R.L. Merrill

Whether she’s writing contemporary romance featuring quirky and relatable characters or diving deep into the paranormal and supernatural to give readers a shiver, R.L. Merrill loves creating compelling, diverse, and inclusive stories that will stay with readers long after. Winner of the Kathryn Hayes “When Sparks Fly” Best Contemporary award for Hurricane Reese, Paranormal Romance Guild’s Best Rockstar Romance for You Can Do Magic, and Daphne DuMaurier finalist for Connection, Ro spends every spare moment improving her writing craft and striving to find that perfect balance between real-life and happily ever after. You can find her connecting with readers on social media, advocating for America’s youth, cruising around town with Great Dane Velma, cuddling with twin black cat familiars Frankenstein and Dracula, or headbanging at a rock show near her home in the San Francisco Bay Area! Stay Tuned for more…

Author Website: https://www.rlmerrillauthor.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/rochellerlmerrill/

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/rlmerrillauthor

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/rlmerrillauthor

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/9828914.R_L_Merrill

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/R.L.-Merrill/author/B00PI6Q1LI

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Join Us for the new release “Golden Hills Haunting” by M.D. Neu (Other Worlds Ink Tour and Giveaway)

Golden Hills Haunting - M.D. Neu

M.D. Neu has a new gay horror book out: Golden Hills Haunting.

After their daughter was bullied at school, Kyle and Alejandro decided to make a fresh start and move into a beautiful new cul-de-sac development. As they take up residence, the family enjoys seeing the community come to life. But when lights flicker, shadows lurk, and small objects disappear, they begin to doubt their sanity.

When Alejandro and many of their neighbors are struck down by a strange sickness that defies explanation, the family starts to question their recent life change. Feeling trapped they speak with their new neighbors, learning they aren’t alone in the haunted neighborhood.

Who do you turn to when the authorities can’t offer any assistance or protection? How do you fight against a sinister force that is older than time? Can Kyle, Alejandro and the rest of the occupants of Golden Hills Court survive or will this nightmarish ordeal destroy them?

Universal Buy Link

Excerpt

Golden Hills Haunting meme

(from Chapter One)

When I decided to sit down and write our story, I wasn’t sure where to open, and I’m still not. Since things didn’t begin all bad, they kicked off slowly. Which makes finding the starting point difficult. I guess when we questioned what was happening in our neighborhood was the day Alejandro came home not feeling well. We’d been in our house for about four months, everything had been unpacked, and our new place felt like a home. Even Chloe, our daughter, had managed to make friends in the neighborhood. We’d had family and friends over and even managed to pull off a big party: our housewarming, which thinking back now should have been our first warning given what happened that day. I digress. Alejandro rarely came home from the office sick, but on that day, I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him so ill.

We were lucky, of course. He was unwell, but he wasn’t as bad as some of our neighbors. By the time we got Alejandro settled in bed to rest, three different ambulances had shown up on our cul-de-sac dealing with numerous medical emergencies at various houses. By that evening, almost every home in our circle had been visited by emergency services. The media didn’t catch wind of the story for a few more days, not until the EPA showed up. Hell, everyone arrived, PG&E, San Jose Water, representatives from the housing development, the County, basically every government organization you might throw a rock at. The weeks that followed were only the beginning of our nightmare.

This new house had been our dream, one we had been working toward for years and we needed the change desperately. Our home was the second finished on our street and we were the second family to move in. Yes, we were going to be living around construction for a couple more weeks, but for this house, the daily construction would be worth it, especially at the price we paid. In this valley, these homes were an outright steal. Chloe, in theory, would be at school during the day or off with friends or at therapy. Alejandro and I both worked so we wouldn’t be around during the day when a majority of the construction commenced. Well, except for me. I still worked from home three days a week, but I could manage the noise; I had my music. The only real problem: the traffic as people were moving in and construction teams came and went. We imagined we’d be able to deal with the building and the neighborhood, but we were wrong.

The cause of the mystery illnesses. What a joke. It wasn’t a gas leak or anything in the water or the dirt. We were all looking for the wrong things. At the time, no one ever contemplated we were under attack from the supernatural or paranormal or whatever you want to call a bunch of pissed off spirits and a horde of Demons thrown in for good measure.

But is that when everything commenced?

I don’t think so.

We should have known something was off when we went to the sales center, about three months prior to our moving in. Let me start from before we moved in and go from there. Knowing how things began will help paint a full picture.

Our new neighborhood, our new home, was an infill neighborhood, one of those small groupings of houses that are built on a subdivided parcel of land. They do that a lot in San Jose, with housing being an issue. It’s funny, there wasn’t even a model home to look at. There was a portable sales office with floor plans and finishes to pick from. How we got the house didn’t matter to us; getting the house was what mattered. Chloe needed the change, especially with all she had been dealing with. So, when I found out they were building this infill community, I told Alejandro and we understood we would have to move promptly. After seeing the information, the next day we called out from work and drove to Evergreen to check the location.

The area had everything we were looking for. Chloe could walk to the school, Chaboya Middle School, and she would have to make new friends, but we understood she’d manage. Chloe was social despite the trouble she had when we first got her. There were parks and a creek, plus several trails for hiking and biking. Down Fowler Road at Ruby Avenue a quaint Evergreen Village had been established with shops, restaurants, and larger stores. We couldn’t have asked for a better neighborhood.

If we only knew.

Author Bio

M.D. Neu

M.D. Neu is an international award-winning inclusive queer Fiction Writer with a love for writing and travel. Living in the heart of Silicon Valley (San Jose, California) and growing up around technology, he’s always been fascinated with what could be. Specifically drawn to Science Fiction and Paranormal television and novels, M.D. Neu was inspired by the great Gene Roddenberry, George Lucas, Stephen King, Alice Walker, Alfred Hitchcock, Harvey Fierstein, Anne Rice, and Kim Stanley Robinson. An odd combination, but one that has influenced his writing.

Growing up in an accepting family as a gay man he always wondered why there were never stories reflecting who he was. Constantly surrounded by characters that only reflected heterosexual society, M.D. Neu decided he wanted to change that. So, he took to writing, wanting to tell good stories that reflected our diverse world.

When M.D. Neu isn’t writing, he works for a non-profit and travels with his biggest supporter and his harshest critic, Eric his husband of twenty plus years.

Website: http://www.mdneu.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Writer_MDNeu

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mdneuauthor

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authormdneu/

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/m-d-neu

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/66488958-md

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@AuthorMDNeu

QueerRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/m-d-neu/

Liminal Fiction: https://www.limfic.com/mbm-book-author/m-d-neu/

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/M-D-Neu/e/B076FK1S14

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Check out the Other Worlds Ink Tour for the amazing “Whiskey and Warfare” by E.M. Hamill (excerpt and giveaway)

Whiskey and Warfare -E.M. Hamill

E.M. Hamill has a new queer women-led space western out (pan, lesbian, aro/ace), Team Huntress book one: Whiskey and Warfare. And there’s a giveaway!

Running on caffeine and spite with nothing left to prove. GOLDEN GIRLS meets FIREFLY in this rollicking space opera adventure.

Maryn Alessi retired from mercenary service after her last assignment went horribly sideways and settled down on a quiet planet with the love of her life. Unexpectedly widowed, Maryn must fulfill a promise to return her mate’s ashes to zer home planet for funeral rites, but a brutal civil war has destabilized space travel.

Former Artemis Corps sisters-in-arms and their sassy ship, the Golden Girl, are up to the task, counting on luck and their rather sketchy cargo business to get Maryn passage through the contested star lanes. But when the crew of the Girl rescues survivors of a ruthless war crime, Maryn and her ride-or-die friends must take up their old profession to save the lives of innocents from a genocidal dictator.

Warnings: violence, genocide, aging, chronic illness, grief (death of spouse), PTSD

Praise for the Book:

“This is the story we all need now — filled with so much love and respect and genuinely fun adventure.” –KD Edwards, author of The Last Sun

“Every element of it just SANG. The story was *chef’s kiss*. This book is truly special.” –Sarah Chorn, author of The Necessity of Rain

“A fantastic read, a thoroughly delightful romp through space with an all-female main cast that blends crazy action scenes with deep reflection on what it means to grow older. This isn’t your parents’ Golden Girls.” –J. Scott Coatsworth, QueerSciFi.com

Universal Buy Link | Goodreads

Giveaway

E.M. is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card with this tour:

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Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47318/

Excerpt

Jac regarded Col with an arched eyebrow. “What happens to your species as you age? I don’t see you looking any different than the last time we got together.”

“You can’t tell?” Col stroked her furry cheeks. “I have more hair on my face.”

“Don’t we all?” Maryn gave a shaky laugh. “I look like I just hit puberty. I think my moustache is glorious.”

“I have also developed lower breasts,” the Boshi said, revealing her catlike teeth in a silent snarl of disgust.

“Mine are heading south too.” Jac cupped her tits, staring at them in contemplation.

“No. Lower breasts.” Col motioned to mid-abdomen beneath her tunic when it became clear they did not follow. “My second set.”

All three humans stared at her with varying degrees of curiosity. “What are they for?” Scylla asked.

“In my society I would be expected to help nurse the litters of my children. If I had any.” Col’s furry ears flapped as she shuddered. “Mewling, damp little things. Why anyone would want them is a mystery.”

“Ours turned out okay, and I didn’t have to get cozy with anything but a syringe,” Jac said with a laugh. “But I’m pretty sure Maya doesn’t expect me to breastfeed our grandkids.”

“Don’t look at me. I got rid of the plumbing a long time ago.” Scylla slapped her flat chest with both hands.

“How old is Maya now?” Maryn was chagrined to realize she hadn’t asked after her honorary niece.

“Twenty-one. She finished her first degree and she’s in medical residency on Telluride Station.” Jac beamed with pride. “Her gene dads still practice in New Denver, so she’s living with them. They’ve been trying to convince us to settle down there, where it’s safe and boring, but we’re not ready for that.” Something Maryn couldn’t name flitted through her expression before Jac’s face softened. “She sends her love, by the way.”

“Sweet kid. I owe her a graduation gift. What a lousy aunt I am.” She sniffed and wiped her nose with a tissue.

“You’re not.”

“I haven’t even seen her since she was six, when you came to visit.”

“She gets it, Mar.” Jac’s voice was gentle but firm, trying to head off Maryn’s slide into self-recrimination, but it was too much.

“I hate this. All of it.” She balled up the soggy paper in her fist. “I have six days left to take Andelek to Xyri before the scheduled rites and I have got to pull my shit together. I could check interplanetary express freight pricing, I guess. They’ve probably raised the rates because of the war, but I can afford it.”

Her eyes grew hot again. “But it just seems so wrong. Ze isn’t a box of supplies to be shuffled off world by a robotic pilot like so much cargo. But I don’t know what else to do.” Maryn made a frustrated noise as her voice snagged on the words. Tears came again whether she wanted them or not, and she swept the back of her hand over her eyes. “I’m running out of time.”

“About that.” Jac exchanged a long glance with Scylla before she continued, “We were talking. We want to take you to Xyri.”

The warm burst of astonished gratitude faded against an electric-jolt corkscrew of anxiety drilling into her chest. Shame came next, as always, and self-disgust filled her mouth with a sour, acetic burn.

“Are you sure?” she stammered. “It’s such a dangerous flight plan right now. It won’t complicate your business?”

“Nah. We’re still freelance.” Scylla shrugged. “Mostly private transactions. We’re our own bosses.” Her husky voice softened. “And you know the Girl would love to see you.”

“I miss her too.” Golden Girl was the well-loved privateer cruiser they’d pooled their end of tour bonuses to purchase when they left the Corps. The ship had been their home, their means of independence, and she had a definite personality. Its AI learning interface had picked up more human nuance with every mission until they treated it like a fifth crew member.

“The Girl’s small enough she doesn’t attract much attention on sensor sweeps. We need to go through Konecthedot system anyway on … business.” Jac traded another secretive nod with Scylla, and Maryn wondered what they weren’t saying.

“That is next to the front.” Col wasn’t fooled by the innocence act, her peridot eyes narrowed.

“Doesn’t mean it won’t be risky, but we can get you there in plenty of time for the remembrance rites.” Scylla cocked her head and her deep brown eyes, so dark they were almost black, glinted with hope and mischief. “Whatcha think, Mar? We can make it a girls’ trip if Col wants to tag along.”

“Yes!” the Boshi exclaimed in her sweet, breathy voice. “I have been bored out of my skull. I can work anywhere since CosBank gave me remote branch equipment.”

What her friends offered was too generous to turn down. She took a deep, steadying breath. “I don’t know what to say, except—” she gestured helplessly. “Thank you.”

Scylla gulped the rest of her wine, her enthusiasm building. “Konecthedot sector might be close to the front, but we haven’t had any issues yet. It’s less dangerous than anything we did when we were mercs. We’ve got two stops to make on the way, but after that, we head straight for the wormhole and Xyri. We can transport you faster without picking up passengers at every station like the star liners do.”

“Globney said the Qetish fleet is blocking the Pashni.” Maryn twisted her fingers together to keep them from shaking.

“They don’t bother flights that originate anywhere other than Khepra, from what we heard,” the pilot assured her, and amended with a skyward glance, “Leastways, not much.”

“I haven’t been off world since …” she faltered.

Terror. Black, endless space. Isolation. The memory threatened to overwhelm her already fragile composure.

“We know.” Jac stroked her forearm.

Of course they did. They’d saved her life.

Author Bio

E.M. Hamill

E.M. (Elisabeth) Hamill writes adult science fiction and fantasy somewhere in the wilds of eastern suburban Kansas. A nurse by day, wordsmith by night, she has sworn never to grow up and get boring.

Frequently under the influence of caffeinated beverages, she also writes as Elisabeth Hamill for young adult readers in fantasy with the award-winning Songmaker series.

She lives with her family, where they fend off flying monkey attacks and prep for the zombie apocalypse.

Author Website: https://emhamill.wordpress.com

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/EMHamill

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Check Out the latest release – Broken Mirror by Cody Sisco (OWL tour except and giveaway)

Broken Mirror - Cody Sisco

Cody Sisco has a new queer sci-fi mystery thriller out, Resonant Earth book one: Broken Mirror. And there’s a giveaway!

A fractured mind or a global conspiracy? Uncovering the truth can be hell when nobody believes you… and you can’t even trust yourself.

Broken Mirror is the first volume in a queer psychological science fiction saga that looks at the stigma of mental illness and the hellish distrust and alienation that goes with it.

Victor Eastmore knows someone killed his grandfather, the pioneering scientist Jefferson Eastmore. But Victor, diagnosed with mirror resonance syndrome, has been shunned by Semiautonomous California society. Nobody will believe a Broken Mirror. Now Victor must tread the line between sanity and reclassification—a fate that all but guarantees he’ll lose his freedom.

With its self-driving cars, global firearms ban, and a cure for cancer, the science fiction world of Broken Mirror may sound like a near future utopia, but on Resonant Earth, history has taken a few wrong turns. The American Union is a weak and fractious alliance of nations in decline. Europe manipulates its citizens through propaganda. And Asia is reeling from decades of war.

Determined to uncover the truth about Jefferson’s murder, pansexual Victor and his trans friend Elena set out on a road trip that takes them across the American Union from Semiautonomous California through the Organized Western States to the Republic of Texas. But Elena is holding something back, and Victor’s condition worsens.

Amid shifting geopolitical sands, Broken Mirrors like Victor find themselves at a cyberpunk crossroads: evolve or go extinct.

Warnings: violence, discrimination against characters with mental health challenges

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Giveaway

Cody is giving away an ebook copy of Tortured Echoes, the sequel to Broken Mirror:

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Excerpt

Broken Mirror Meme

A new universe, its vibrations, called to me, and I answered, ignorant of the harm in crossing over.
—Victor Eastmore, Apology to Resonant Earth, (transmission date unknown)

Semiautonomous California
29 February 1991

It’s one thing to die quietly with things left unsaid among family members. It’s another thing to do what the great Jefferson Eastmore did with his secrecy and architecture of conspiracy: keep essential truths from Victor and put him on a collision course with an uncanny future.

Victor gazed across City Lake toward the tessellated foothills, where the elite families of Oakland and Bayshore kept their hedges trimmed and thorny. His grandfather’s sarcophagus was up there, surrounded by marble pillars and gold-gilt fencing shaped like twisted strands of DNA. A tidy and neat brick gravemound would never have sufficed, since at the end of his life, Jefferson was as grandiose as his cancer-curing career. The stones were plucked from the canals of New Venice, and a plaque listed the man’s many accomplishments. Not listed was his failed effort to cure Victor of mirror resonance syndrome.

Victor spun around to face the city skyline. The morning was bright and windy. The timefeed on his MeshBit indicated thirty minutes until his reclassification appointment. He could go and wait in the anteroom, but his anxious vibrations might shake the building to its foundations.

He took a breath. No going back. Before the sun reached its zenith that day, his path would materialize. If he were lucky, he could stay a Class Three: free but under close supervision. Or he could become a Class Two: under guard, imprisoned, at a rancho in the hinterlands. He whispered a cherished but inconsistently effective mantra to fight off brain blankness: The wise owl listens before asking who. Each episode of blanking out was one more step toward mirror resonance syndrome’s inevitable tragic end: becoming a comatose Class One, insensate, a forgotten ward of the government. The only unknown factor was how quickly the future would crash against him.

He trudged along the shoreline, tensing and relaxing his jaw, trying to distract himself. Glittering towers rose exultantly cityside. Squally breezes swooped out of a cloudless, azure sky and assaulted bulrushes, sedges, and cattails in the shallows where a grid of waterplots penned them in.

Granfa Jefferson had been poisoned. Victor knew it. He had proof. But his family didn’t believe him, and if he said any more about it, he would be locked away. Fair? No. Surprising? Not really. After all, his life was a farcical succession of tragedies. It wasn’t time to give up, though. Not while he had unanswered questions.

The palm trees encircling the lake rustled like cheerleaders shaking their pom-poms. The water rippled, creating countless sun flashes on the lake’s surface, and afterimages glowed and pulsed when he closed his eyes. The stench of goose shit turned his stomach.

He wedged the MeshBit’s detachable sonobulb in his ear, then called Elena. She answered right away. This was not the first time her promptness was suspicious.

“See?” she said. “When a friend calls, you should answer. Right away. Not never.”

“I know. I need your help,” he said. “My appointment is here. I’m having trouble.”

“Where are you?” she asked.

“City Lake. West shore.”

“I can’t get there in time.”

You were there for Granfa Jeff’s funeral. You showed up at my apartment whenever you wanted. Why can’t you be here now?

“Then talk to me,” Victor said. “Anything to keep my mind off my theories about Granfa Jeff.”

At the time, Victor had nothing close to the truth about Jefferson’s secret messages and plans for conspiracy and counter-conspiracy. He couldn’t have guessed his role in the proliferating conflagration that would transform every person on Resonant Earth and beyond. No one could have predicted the neuro-contagion that eventually radiated beyond the American Union of Nations, or the mind-machine hybridization that became humanity’s destiny, or the fact that crossing over to another world would become a possibility rather than paranoia. If Victor had guessed any of it, he might have failed his reclassification deliberately and shown up at the gates of a rancho to check himself in. All this was a lot to have piled onto a mentally unstable young adult.

“But you found radiation on the data egg,” Elena said. “I believe you. We’re going to figure this out.”

Author Bio

Cody Sisco

Cody Sisco is an author, editor, publisher, and literary community organizer. His LGBT psychological science fiction series includes two novels thus far, Broken Mirror and Tortured Echoes. He is a freelance editor specializing in genre-bending fiction and the acquisitions editor for RIZE Press. In 2017, he co-founded Made in L.A. Writers, an indie author co-op dedicated to the support and appreciation of independent authors. His startup, BookSwell, is a literary events and media production company dedicated to lifting up marginalized voices and connecting readers and writers in Southern California and beyond. He serves as a co-executive on the Board of Governors for the Editorial Freelancers Association, as the treasurer for the LGBTQ+ Editors Association, and as a board member at APLA Health.

Author Website: https://www.codysisco.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/codysisco

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/codysiscowrites/

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/codysiscowrites/

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14848998.Cody_Sisco

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Cody-Sisco/author/B01AOMHSTE

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Check Out the new release “You Can Save Me “ by R.M. Merrill (OWL tour and giveaway)

You Can Save Me - R.L. Merrill

R.L. Merrill has a new MM paranormal romance in the Carnival of Mysteries series, the sequel to You Can Do Magic: You Can Save Me.

Sixties folk singer Dane Donovan vanished from a desolate highway rest area in 1979. Forty years later, he’s found hitchhiking in the California desert on a cold winter’s night. He hasn’t aged a day, but the roadmap of scars he wears tells a chilling tale.

Veteran detective Walter Muse took over the case twenty years ago, but his haunting connection to Dane Donovan goes back to a peculiar run-in as a child with The Troubadour and his Talking Board at a traveling carnival. He receives a late-night call with Dane’s whereabouts and races to Laurel Canyon to see for himself whether Dane is real — or a ghost. Walter’s carefully honed detective instincts are thrown out the window when his obsession with the case turns into an undeniable attraction to the mysterious singer.

Dane is on a mission to stop a new killer hell-bent on picking up where Dane’s kidnapper left off, and Walter is determined to protect him, no matter the personal and psychological cost. They’ll have to rely on new friends and trusted colleagues as well as the power of a mystical spirit board to stop the killing, and have a chance at a real future together.

Warnings: discussion of suicide, serial killer attempted murder

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Excerpt

You Can Save Me meme - R.L. Merrill

On a dark desert highway somewhere in California, I walked alone on the dusty shoulder with a borrowed acoustic guitar strapped to my back and my sole possession tucked under my arm in a brown paper bag. I shivered as though evil was breathing down my neck, when in reality, I was the one in pursuit. The sky had a purplish hue with some storm clouds off to the north but directly above me, the stars flickered in a surreal dance.

I walked with purpose, and it was a very important one.

I’m the only one who can stop him.

I passed a sign that said Highway 58 to Mojave, and I pulled my salvaged coat tighter around my scrawny self. The ground was warm beneath my tattered boots, but the air bit into my skin like an icy monster gnashing its teeth, hungry.

I turned to look behind me and spotted headlights coming my way. It had been at least an hour since another car had passed. I stuck out my thumb, hoping they’d stop. The boots I wore were also borrowed, as were my clothes and hat. I chose them because they were the only ones in the carnival storage that were the right size and fit.

I had only one memory from before I’d started working with the traveling carnival, and it was awful enough to make your blood run cold.

The lights hurt my eyes, and my energy flagged, but I kept my thumb out. I had something important to do, and if this car didn’t slow down, I’d keep going until the next one came. Someone had to stop. How else did people get anywhere if not for thumb power?

The headlights grew nearer and were impossibly bright. I had to cover my eyes briefly as I was nearly blinded. I heard the crunch of gravel as the vehicle pulled over and coughed at the cloud of dust that rose. A door opened and a male voice called out.

“Hey, man. What are you doing out here?”<

The bright lights faded and only a set of yellow ones down low on the front of the…pickup truck were left on. It was a massive thing, jacked up high, with big tires and a shiny chrome grill.

What does it look like I’m doing? The large concrete sign with the strange name loomed in my consciousness, and though every cell in my body struggled against my purpose, I stood tall and called back, “Need a ride. To Buttonwillow.”

The truck door closed, and I saw the man’s shape pass in front of the dim lights. What was he doing getting out of his ride? I backed up a step, trying to play it cool. He wasn’t the person I was worried about.

Then the passenger door opened, and a much larger man got out.

“Ryan, don’t.”

There were two of them. I didn’t like my odds, but I had no choice. I had to get there. I had to stop…

“Forget it man, I’ll walk.”

“Wait, come back. You can’t walk that far. That’s, like, almost a hundred miles away.”

The driver came closer, but the big man stepped in between us. I reached for the guitar on my back. Maybe I could whack him with it and run away. I was pretty fast.

“Do you have any weapons?” Then the passenger barked an order at me. “Let me see under your jacket.”

“Come on, man. I just need a ride. I don’t have anything.”

The driver pushed past him. “Kal, it’s okay. Hey, kid, what’s your name?”

“Dee Dee.”

The driver held his hand out, and I shook it. “Dee Dee, I’m Ryan, and this is my husband, Kal. Damn,” he said, letting go of my hand and slapping his together, the loud crack making me jump. “I love saying that.” He turned and smiled at the large man, whose scowl seemed to lessen the slightest bit. “We just got married in Vegas.” He held up a hand and the light flashed off of his wedding band.

“Congratulations?” It came out like the question it was. How were they married? Two men? Guess they really do let anything happen in Las Vegas.

“Where’d you come from?” Kal asked, standing next to Ryan as if to protect him from me. Not sure I’d ever been seen as a threat to anyone, but I didn’t blame him for being cautious. Wish I’d had someone to look after me like that.

“Back that way. Was working at a carnival, and I needed to—”

Ryan put a hand on my chest and his eyes went wide. “Did you say carnival? Like, ‘Welcome, Traveler’ carnival?”

“How’d you know?” I tried to step back and my heel caught on a rock. I was about to go down, but Kal caught me—and then I was caught up in his gaze.

“I came from there, too,” Kal said.

And then I heard it. In my mind. Calliope music.

I’d never gone to see it. I hadn’t done much exploring. I’d only gone from my trailer to my booth and back for however long I’d been employed there. Didn’t seem long, but then, time did weird things at the carnival.

>“The Troubadour’s Talking Board,” Kal said. He gripped my arm a little tighter as he brought me back up to standing. “The booth in the arcade. I know you.”

“That’s right. That’s me. Well, it was. I left. Got something I gotta do.”

Ryan grabbed Kal’s arm. “The promise. Babe, we have to help him.”

Kal continued to stare down at me, and though he seemed good—the big man oozed honor from his pores—he was a scary guy. His hand could have wrapped around my bicep twice. Or my throat. He looked from Ryan to me, and then he let go of my arm.

“We shall help you along your path.”

Seemed like a strange way of saying “sure, we’ll give you a ride,” but I’d take it.

“Thank you.”

Ryan gestured to the truck. “Hop in.”

Kal remained at my side and when we reached the cab, he opened the front of two doors. I’d never seen a pickup with two sets of doors before. This thing was unreal.

“You ride up here,” Kal said, taking the guitar from me. “I’ll be right behind you. If you hurt my husband, I will hurt you.”

“God, Kal. That’s hot, but babe, don’t scare the kid. We promised we’d help him.”

“Promised who?” I asked as I climbed into the tall pickup. “And I’m not a kid.”

Kal shut my door after I sat, and then he climbed in. I turned my back to the door. I didn’t like having him behind me. Didn’t like anyone at my back, especially after what had happened to land me at the carnival in the first place.

“I think you know,” Kal said as Ryan started the pickup. “Ryan and I are married because someone else made a promise to help us on our path. Ryan made a promise to Mr. Ame. Now we will do the same for you.”

I’d known cats who lived together, maybe even called themselves husbands, but marriage couldn’t happen between homosexuals. This was all too much. It was like I’d left one odd place and wound up in another.

But what he said about promises put my purpose front and center in my mind.

I sighed and turned just a bit, still able to see Kal out of the corner of my eye as he sat in the middle of the backseat. He rested a hand on the seat behind Ryan’s shoulder, his fingers tangling in the man’s shoulder-length copper hair.

“Thank you for stopping,” I said before I let my eyes drift closed. I needed to rest. I would need my strength when we arrived.

“What’s in Buttonwillow?” I heard Kal ask Ryan.

“All I know about it is there’s a pair of rest stops on either side of the highway. Creepy-ass place. Every time I stop there, I’m sure a murderer is going to jump out of the bushes.”

You don’t know how right you are.

Author Bio

R.L. Merrill

Whether she’s writing contemporary romance featuring quirky and relatable characters or diving deep into the paranormal and supernatural to give readers a shiver, R.L. Merrill loves creating compelling, diverse, and inclusive stories that will stay with readers long after. Winner of the Kathryn Hayes “When Sparks Fly” Best Contemporary award for Hurricane Reese, Paranormal Romance Guild’s Best Rockstar Romance for You Can Do Magic, and Daphne DuMaurier finalist for Connection, Ro spends every spare moment improving her writing craft and striving to find that perfect balance between real-life and happily ever after.

You can find her connecting with readers on social media, advocating for America’s youth, cruising around town with Great Dane Velma, cuddling with twin black cat familiars Frankenstein and Dracula, or headbanging at a rock show near her home in the San Francisco Bay Area! Stay Tuned for more…

Author Website: https://www.rlmerrillauthor.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/rochellerlmerrill/

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/rlmerrillauthor

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/rlmerrillauthor

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/9828914.R_L_Merrill

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/r-l-merrill/

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/R.L.-Merrill/author/B00PI6Q1LI

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Check out “Song of Howls” by M. D. Grimm (OWL tour and except)

Song of Howls - M.D. Grimm

M.D. Grimm has a new FF fantasy romance out, Sisters of Song book 2: Song of Howls. And there’s a giveaway!

As Alaiya reclaims her life, she never intended to capture the heart of a she-wolf.

Alaiya was trained by her parents to be the perfect wife. Due to her beauty, they knew they could entice a wealthy man to wed her and raise their status. She was a trophy, a prize, brought out to entertain like an obedient dog. Their efforts were rewarded when Lord Salazem claimed her to become his next wife, intent on adding her to his harem. But when two mighty dragons and her sister save her, Alaiya is given a new chance at life.

Determined to stand on her own and discover who she truly is, Alaiya has little interest in relationships. Even when she meets the silver-haired Talla, Alaiya pushes down her desire, unwilling to be caged again.

Talla is the alpha of her large wolf pack in the Firestar Mountains and knows Alaiya is her mate. She is entranced by Alaiya’s strength, courage, and loyalty, and is determined to prove herself as a worthy mate. But first she must overcome Alaiya’s barriers, which might prove to be her greatest challenge.

As Alaiya and her sister adjust to their new lives, they must secure their home from those who would take it from them. Including their parents. As Alaiya struggles to stand on her own, she learns that true strength lies in letting others stand beside her.

ABOUT THE SERIES

Venya and Alaiya are sisters born to greedy and selfish parents. One is neglected and the other exploited. Despite this–or because of it–they cling to each other, best friends as well as family. They find freedom in the mountain range beyond their city of birth… as well as unexpected chances at love with extraordinary beings.

Forging a new future is never easy, but with their unbreakable bond, and lovers and allies at their side, the impossible just might be attainable.

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Excerpt

Song of Howls - M.D. Grimm

For a moment, Alaiya forgot her own troubles and lived in the moment. She’d seen many such beautiful places in the Firestar Mountains but this one beat them all.

Wolves watched them descend, and Alaiya tried not to cower under their piercing stares. The valley was filled with adults, adolescents, and pups. No one approached them, and she had a feeling something significant was happening. Though she couldn’t determine what it was.

The mask she’d learned to wear as a child, that of societal pleasantries, slipped on as they stepped off the trail. Alaiya slid off Talla’s back and inclined her head to those nearby.

“Good evening. I am Alaiya. Thank you for watching over my sister, and for welcoming us into your home. We are in your debt.”

A few of the pups ran up as several adults approached. Tails were tucked, heads were down. Talla stayed beside her, watching them but also glancing at her. If Alaiya allowed herself to indulge in fantasy, she would have sworn she saw pride in Talla’s bright gaze.

Of course she stroked the puppies and offered the adults her hands to sniff. Feeling welcomed and trying not to be overwhelmed, Alaiya resisted reliving the recent dangers again. This was an extraordinary moment that shouldn’t be tarnished by the past. If spending her entire life under the thumb of her parents had taught her anything, it was to savor the good and beautiful for as long as possible.

When Alaiya’s stomach grumbled, Talla nudged the others away and jerked her head, wanting her to follow. Clearly, she was the alpha. Or one of the alphas. Didn’t wolf packs usually have a male and a female leader?

Alaiya tried to decipher if any of the others gave off the alpha vibe but she didn’t sense anything. Talla took her to a pile of fruit that appeared to have been recently picked and washed. There were apples, oranges, and grapes. When she hesitated, Talla nudged her forward lightly. She took a grape, and Talla’s mouth dropped open in a lupine grin.

Alaiya couldn’t resist smiling a little. “Thank you.”

Talla huffed and trotted off. Alaiya sat next to the fruit and munched. She curled into herself, feeling a bit chilled. Her clothes had seen better days, they were dirty and torn. She mourned the state of them. They were ones she’d found in the palace, and she liked the style. She was grateful for the variety of clothing for ladies in the palace, and since she was handy with needle and thread, it was a simple thing to make modifications as needed to fit her, and her sister’s, shapes better. Her parents had insisted she be adept at all manner of womanly tasks and pursuits, including how to sew her own clothing. She’d needed to be a prize catch after all.

She scowled at the memories.

The adult wolves left her alone, though a few pups crept closer, curious. She coaxed them nearer and ended up with four pups draped over her lap and cuddled at her sides. Their fluffy, warm bodies and playful squeaks calmed her. But despite her best efforts, recent events wouldn’t let her settle.

“What disturbs you?”

She jerked and looked up. Talla stood there, naked, hair like silver silk draped over her. Alaiya quickly turned away and cleared her throat. She flushed hot when Talla sat beside her. Though she didn’t touch her or draw closer, Alaiya felt her gaze like a touch. It itched. It burned.

“I… I’ve been through a lot.”

“I gathered that from what Venya said. Do you wish to speak about it?”

“No.”

Talla nodded and when one of the pups nuzzled her hand, she plucked him up and rubbed her face against his. Alaiya softened at the adoration.

“Is he yours?”

Talla smiled. “No. All my pups are grown with pups of their own. I have no desire for more.”

Alaiya frowned. “How old…? Never mind.”

Rude. Very rude question. All those weeks away from society had made her social skills rusty. She used to be far better at small talk and charming all she met.

Talla chuckled. The sound danced pleasantly along Alaiya’s skin. Damn.

“We age differently than humans. Though I can still have children, I have chosen to stop. Let the younger, stronger of my pack produce the next generations. This way, I get to enjoy the pups with little burden.”

So saying, she rubbed the pup’s tummy, and he wiggled with delight.

Alaiya grinned.

“Make sure to drink the water from the falls. It will cleanse you and heal you of any injuries or discomforts.”

“How?”

“This place was blessed by the gods long ago. A hint of their divinity remains.”

Their gazes met and held. Alaiya was struck with the directness of Talla’s stare. She exuded calm and confidence, a steadfastness that encouraged trust and dependency.

And that was a problem. Alaiya needed to stand on her own. She’d obeyed her parents for most of her life. Then she’d depended on Venya to rescue her. But now she had the freedom to be whoever she wanted to be. And she had no clue who that was. So she needed to find out and having a liaison with anyone—even this sexy she-wolf—was not part of the plan.

“That’s amazing. I wouldn’t have believed that a month ago. But after meeting the dragons and… This is a good place to live.”

“Yes. These mountains are sacred and must be protected.”

Alaiya sighed. “And our presence brings danger. If my parents hadn’t sold me to that no good—”

“‘Sold’?” Talla’s voice turned low and menacing.

Author Bio

M.D. Grimm Logo

M.D. Grimm has wanted to write stories since second grade (kind of young to make life decisions, but whatever) and nothing has changed since then (well, plenty of things actually, but not that!). Thankfully, she has indulgent parents who let her dream, but also made sure she understood she’d need a steady job to pay the bills (they never let her forget it!).

After graduating from the University of Oregon and majoring in English, (let’s be honest: useless degree, what else was she going to do with it?) she started on her writing career and couldn’t be happier. Working by day and writing by night (or any spare time she can carve out), she enjoys embarking on romantic quests and daring adventures (living vicariously, you could say) and creating characters that always triumph against the villain, (or else what’s the point?) finding their soul mate in the process.

Author Website: https://www.mdgrimmwrites.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/mdgrimmwrites

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mdgrimmwrites

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4574220.M_D_Grimm

Author Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com): https://www.limfic.com/mbm-book-author/m-d-grimm/

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/m-d-grimm/

Author Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/M.D.-Grimm/e/B00I0KZMY6/

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Check out the fantastic Cover Reveal for The Death Bringer by J. Scott Coatsworth! Excerpt included!

The Death Bringer - J. Scott Coatsworth

J. Scott Coatsworth has a new queer sci-fantasy book coming out in September, The Tharassas Cycle book four, and we have the cover reveal: The Death Bringer.

AIK WILL NEVER BE THE SAME… AND NEITHER WILL HIS WORLD

War is coming. Aik has become the Progenitor, and the Seed Mother has released him to transform the world for her alien brood. Silya and Raven, Aik’s former friends, are the only ones who can save him and the world. But what if the cure is worse than the invasion?

As Silya rushes to prepare Gullton for the battle to come, she’s determined to save as many people as she can. But new crises emerge that demand her attention.

Raven has his own hands full, keeping the dragon-like verent in line, while helping Silya to save the world. But what if the only way to do so is to sacrifice Aik, the man that he loves?

It’s the end of the world … or could it be the start of something new?

Note: Advance paperback copies will be available at BayCon in Santa Clara in early July.

About the Series:

The Tharassas Cycle is a four book sci-fantasy series set on the recently colonized world of Tharassas. When humans first arrived on planet, they thought they were alone until the hencha mind made itself known. But now a new threat has arisen to challenge both humankind and their new allies on this alien world.

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Excerpt

The Death Bringer meme

Chapter One

Regroup

He floated, weightless and naked, surrounded by a reddish light and suspended in fluid. Something connected to his mouth and wrapped around his head, like a lover’s embrace.

He used to have a name. He searched his mind for some clue to his identity. I exist, so I must be someone. Or something.

That made sense, but got him no closer to an answer. He blinked. Who am I?

There was no immediate reply.

He lifted his hand. It was encased in metal. The gauntlet. That much he remembered, though it meant nothing to him. Except… it seemed different, somehow. Thinner.

He moved his arms in the liquid, and it sparkled around him where his shifting disturbed it. The metal extended down his wrist and along his forearm, like before, but now it went farther, around his elbow and up his bicep. He touched it with his free hand.

I can feel it. It was as if the metal had become a part of him, his nerves growing through it. He held out his metallic hand and flexed his fingers. What is it?

We call it uurcaa. It’s a sacred metal—it will protect you, and if your host dies, it will collect and save your soul.He could feel the emotions she held back from him. It is the last of its kind from our homeworld. Like us.

He blinked. Then what am I?

You are my son, Iihil. The progenitor, the one who has come before and the first of many more like you. The voice was deep and comforting.

Mother. Warmth infused him at her voice, and an eagerness to please her.

Still, something wasn’t right. He was more than that. He searched his mind, running up against that stubborn blankness. Somewhere beyond it were the answers he needed.

He’d been someone else. Before.

Who was I? Memories of a face—dark hair, intense eyes that nevertheless twinkled at him. Raven.

It came flooding back to him. His mother. His life in Gullton. Training to be a guard and meeting Raven for the first time. My name is Aik.

He reached for the mask that covered his face. It was suffocating. Something was stuck in his throat, and he coughed hard, trying to force it out, whipping around and causing the liquid around him to flash red in alarm.

Calm yourself. The voice was as thick and heavy as an ix hide, and just as soft and warm.

Aik pushed back. What are you doing to me? I don’t want this! Let me out! He thrashed about, trying to force his way through the suffocating liquid. The metal crept up his shoulder. If it covered all of him, he would be lost.

Calm yourself! It was more insistent this time.

Aik stiffened as an enforced lethargy settled over him. He lost control of his limbs, falling still in his floating prison. The voice pressed against his mind. You’re safe. Be calm, my little one.

He closed his eyes and thought of Raven, trying to stay fixed on that face. I can’t let myself forget again.

Then the world around him dissolved, and he was swept up in a torrent of memories that weren’t his own.

Author Bio

J. Scott Coatsworth

Scott lives with his husband Mark in a yellow bungalow in Sacramento. He was indoctrinated into fantasy and sci fi by his mother at the tender age of nine. He devoured her library, but as he grew up, he wondered where all the people like him were.

He decided that if there weren’t queer characters in his favorite genres, he would remake them to his own ends.

A Rainbow Award winning author, he runs Queer Sci Fi, QueeRomance Ink, Liminal Fiction, and Other Worlds Ink with Mark, sites that celebrate fiction reflecting queer reality, and was the committee chair for the Indie Authors Committee at the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA) for almost three years.

Author Website: https://www.jscottcoatsworth.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/jscottcoatsworth/

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/jscottcoatsworthauthor

Author Mastodon: https://mastodon.otherworldsink.com/@jscottcoatsworth

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jscottcoatsworth/

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8392709.J_Scott_Coatsworth

Author Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com): https://www.limfic.com/mbm-book-author/j-scott-coatsworth/

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/j-scott-coatsworth/

Author Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/J.-Scott-Coatsworth/e/B011AFO4OQ

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Join us for the tour and giveaway for Down the Line by AG Meiers (Other World Ink)

Down the Line - AG Meiers - Jake's Bar

AG Meiers has a new MM romantic suspense book out: Down the Line. And there’s a giveaway.

Revenge is a Dangerous Obsession.

Dean Hunt needs the story of a lifetime—Since his uncompromising attitude got him fired, the investigative journalist is hell-bent to expose the powerful and corrupt Conway family. It’s a career move, and absolutely not a vendetta against the oldest son Noel, who ghosted Dean after a mind-blowing weekend together.

Noel Conway needs a new start—After years away, Noel has come home to rebuild the bridges he’s burned. Too bad his past caused a ripple effect he can’t outrun. Now, he’s asked to save his family from the one man he never expected to see again but can’t forget.

Dean is chasing front-page news, and Noel is trying to protect the ones he loves. But the line between enemies and lovers gets blurred when a dangerous criminal from Noel’s past resurfaces. Will the truth shatter their tentative trust? Or do they have a shot at happily ever after?

But none of that matters when suddenly Noel disappears…

Down the Line, the final book in the award-winning Jake’s Bar series, is a spicy, M/M romantic suspense featuring a rainbow-colored bar full of quirky characters, and all the romance you can handle. So, download today, and get ready to fall in love with Jake’s Bar.

Warnings: smoking cigarettes and weed in the hot tub, kidnapping (on page scenes restrained), verbally abusive father

About the Series:

The award-winning Jake’s Bar series is a set of steamy, M/M romantic suspense novels, featuring a rainbow- colored bar full of quirky characters, and all the romance you can handle.

Universal Buy Link | Amazon

Giveaway

AG is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card with this tour:

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Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47310/?

Excerpt

Jake's Bar banner

As Dean reached the top of the staircase, a man stepped out of the shadows in front of his door. Dean straightened his shoulders. “Detective Conway.”

“Hunt.”

In a parallel universe, they might have been friends. They were fighting the same fight. Had the same enemies. In this world, they weren’t brothers in arms. In this world, Dean had been cast as the villain.

“How can I help you this fine morning?”

“Open the door. We gotta talk.”

“Look, it’s been a long night—”

“Just open the damn door.” Conway snarled, pushing into Dean’s personal space.

Dean stood his ground. “Are you here in an official capacity? Because then, the answer is no, I won’t let you in. You have no warrant, no permission to search my property. I don’t consent—”

“Just shut the fuck up. None of us wants this shitshow to be on the record,” Con growled.

Dean, curious, took a step back and raised his empty hand, palm up. “Okay.”

He fished for his key, pushed open the door, and quickly disarmed his alarm system. Conway didn’t wait to be invited in, just crossed the living room, dropped his shearling coat onto the sofa, then walked over to the large window overlooking the river.

The view was the only redeeming feature of Dean’s otherwise-generic apartment. The mess didn’t help. There were dirty dishes piled up in the sink, a pizza box on the breakfast counter separating the cramped kitchen from the living room, and an unmade bed in the other corner of the room.

“For a guy who anxiously waited at my doorstep, you’re awfully quiet.” Dean smirked. “Coffee?”

“No.” Conway turned his back, now studying the row of framed newspaper front pages Dean had hung on the apartment’s interior wall. His personal collection of historic headlines—headlines that changed the world.

The oldest was from July 6, 1776. The Pennsylvania Evening Post, printing the Declaration of Independence on its front page. Next to it, the Daily Telegram, declaring the end of the Second World War. The two most recent, the New York Times’ “OBAMA: Racial barrier falls in heavy turnout” and, of course, the front page the day after 9/11.

Dean had added a few more personal favorites, like Moneta J. Sleet’s photography of Coretta Scott King at MLK’s funeral. The first Black man to win the Pulitzer for journalism.

Conway took his time examining each framed newspaper. Dean already regretted allowing the intrusion into his space. He felt exposed—vulnerable—under silent scrutiny.

Irritated, he started banging around the kitchen. He was in no mood to explain that looking at those headlines every day fueled his ambitions and inspired his dreams. Dean believed with every fiber of his being in the power of a free and independent press.

He turned on the coffee machine and leaned against the counter. As if Conway felt Dean’s angry glare across the room, he finally turned and stared right back. For a moment, they engaged in a silent standoff.

Unease flittered through Dean. Camille had been right. Her brother was seething with anger. And Dean had no fucking idea what he’d done to piss him off. He sighed and shook his head, then took two mugs out of the cabinet and put them onto the island. “Miguel, have a damn coffee. You look like you need it.”

“Says the man who clearly slept in his party clothes and crept home at sunup.”

“Guilty as charged.” Dean shrugged.

Conway curled his lip. “I do not know what my sister sees in you.”

It wasn’t a question, so Dean didn’t bother with an answer. “You wanted to talk? So, talk.”

Instead of talking, though, Conway pulled out a stack of papers. Pushing aside the coffee cups to make room, he spread them out over the counter.

Dean froze. The first blurry photograph featured Dean in another man’s arms. In the next, the same man was pressing Dean against a white porch railing, his own hands tangled in the man’s messy curls. Conway fanned the stack, revealing nearly a dozen more.

Dean and Noel Conway, kissing.

Suddenly, he was there again, the ocean breeze tugging on his clothes. Noel’s warm skin, tasting like sunshine and a hint of salt, his eyes blown with desire. Goddamn, so fucking beautiful, with that shy smile, whispered promises—

Dean’s throat was desert dry. His ragged breath and the hissing of the coffee machine came together like a fucking symphony. “I—”

“Save it. My sister thinks you’re this hotshot journalist. Full of passion. Braving adversity. Motivated by a noble cause. Yeah, fuck that. You’re after my family because Noel pounded your ass, then dropped you like he does everybody else. Your pride—your precious ego—is hurt because you’re just another notch in my brother’s carved-up bedpost.”

Conway grabbed his jacket and walked to the door. He turned and added, “Watch it, Hunt. You got no job. No friends. No prospects. But if you think you’ve reached rock bottom, think again.”

Dean contained himself until he heard his door close with a soft click. Only then did he allow himself to swipe papers, cups, and the fucking photos off his counter. The cups shattered

on the tile floor.

Author Bio

Eighteen years ago, AG Meiers came to the US for adventure and stayed for love. Currently, she lives in New England with her husband and two awesome kids—balancing work, friends and family, and writing.

When she has some free time, her favorite thing to do is travel and visit new places. Her past trips have already brought her to a variety of countries on four continents. She never passes up an opportunity to experience different cultures, diverse people and amazing locations.

Even though she has been dreaming up stories all her life, she has only recently started to write them down and share them with the world. As a writer she loves to put her characters through a lot of challenges, conflict and heartbreak, before she allows them to find their happy-ever-after.

Author Website: https://www.agmeiers.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/ag.meiers.1/

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/agmeiers/

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/AG-Meiers/author/B07MCHQH5B

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