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Wulf Francu Godgluck on Author Confessions and his release The Wulf Chronicles (guest post, excerpt, and giveaway)

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The Wulf Chronicles

Wulf Chron Book 1

Wulf Francu Godgluck

Gay Fantasy

Release Date: 06.11.18

The Wulf Chronicles Cover

 

COVER DESIGN:  KELLIE @ BOOK COVER BY DESIGN https://www.bookcoverbydesign.co.uk/

 

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1 THE WULF CHRONICLES 3D Image of Book Cover

Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words is happy to have Wulf Francú Godgluck here today talking about his release The Wulf Chronicles.  Welcome, Wulf.

♦︎

10 Author Confessions from Wulf Francú Godgluck

Hi everyone, I want to thank Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words for the opportunity of a guest post.

Em Denning tagged me in a FB post of #authorconfessions. Though I think it calls for me to post five confessions of me as an author, I’m gonna bump it up to ten for you guys.

So without further ado, here is my ten author confessions, or more correctly, it’s time to get real.

ONE

While writing a book, or self-editing (revisions) it, before I send it off to my editor, I look up similar book with the same tropes and story lines to compare them to my current WIP. With the last one, The Wulf Chronicles, I looked up a lot of werewolf books (not shifters, because there are no #Shiftershere in WulfChron) I wanted to see and compare the actual transformation. Now this has always bother me about werewolf, lycan and shifter books, why the transformation from human to beast is always brushed off or written in such a short line or paragraph, with very limited or no description. I wanted to do this right, because ultimately the transformation is as much part of being a werewolf/lycan/shifter as is being the beast.

TWO

Death carries very prominent and heavy themes throughout most of my books. Why? Because ultimately it is my biggest fear, something I spend way too much time pondering about, it’s both fascinating and terrifying. Not so much a death in itself, but the question of what happens afterwards, do we stay conscious, where do we go, are we reincarnated or do we all join some linked celestial consciousness, or the more scarier possibility; do we just become nothing after death, no thought, no conscious?

THREE

I cry while writing my characters’ death scenes. Because I know I’m saying goodbye to these characters, and it’s not a factor of but “you only met them a few month ago,” no, most of my books that are out, the characters have been with me for years and years before I even write their story.  So writing their death, hurts a lot. These aren’t just characters to me, they are in some strange way friends, almost family. And there was one character’s death that still haunts me to this day, and probably always will. All I will say about them is, we have yet to meet the man responsible for thinking that character’s life.

FOUR

I need to write in absolute isolation, I can’t write while my husbaer is around, nor while anyone else is around. I get totally grumpy and growly, my creative process feels disjointed and I struggle to find my mojo while I know there’s someone else in the apartment. Even if the husbaer was to sit in the bedroom with the door closed, I still can’t focus, but strangely enough, background noise, like cars in the street, sirens or dogs barking doesn’t bother me.

FIVE

I listen to dark, very dark ambient sounds and music as well as dark chanting and ritual industrial music while I write, even during sex scenes and fluffy scene, I need something by Cryo Chamber or Marilyn Manson playing in the background. And Cryo Chamber is one of my go to writing music to listen to while working, I should probably start paying them part of my royalties for it.  What is dark ambient, for those that don’t know?

Dark ambient is a genre of post-industrial music that features an ominous, dark droning and often gloomy, monumental or catacombal atmosphere, partially with discordant overtones. It shows similarities towards ambient music, a genre that has been cited as a main influence by many dark ambient artists, both conceptually and compositionally. Although mostly electronically generated, dark ambient also includes the sampling of hand-played instruments and semi-acoustic recording procedures, and is strongly related to ritual industrial music.

SIX

I have major issues with how dark romance seems to be portrayed these days in the romance genre in general. Many authors and readers believe that grotesque, vast amounts of violence, rape, dubcon and noncon as well as taboos means that they are writing dark. It’s not.

Dark was once use to refer to the emotional psyche, question ourselves and our morals, enticing and exploring our darker nature, it had more to do with the psychological aspect and the darker corners of the mind, soul and heart than it had anything to do with sexual acts, physicality or the depravity.

Am I saying that violence, rape, dubcon and noncon and taboos etc. can’t be considered dark romance?

No, that’s not it, the issue I’m having here is, it’s the lack of focus on the emotional side and the destruction of character’s morals or the stripping away of their humanity that is causing the confusion among readers and authors. But genres are constantly changing, the romance we read and write today was not the same type of romance that was being read and written ten, twenty, fifty, years ago.

I think the bigger issue here is with me, myself; struggling to accept how the genre is changing.

SEVEN

I don’t plot, I don’t outline, I know as much about the characters as the reader does when they first open the book, sure the characters have been by my side, whispering into my ear for years but I don’t know the story of them until I start writing. Yes, I understand their personalities, quarks and mannerisms that makes them them, but even I don’t know their deeps secretes until I put them down into words. What I do know before hand is how each and every one of these characters’ story will end. I know the ending of every manuscript or story arch I am working on before I know the beginning.

EIGHT

I hate being interrupted, especially once I’m in my flow of writing, or trying to get into my flow of writing, it can for example pull me out of a whole day of writing. I start early in the morning, and that is a very crucial time for me, if I don’t find my flow and mojo in the morning I know beforehand if words will flow from me for the rest of the day or not, (this is maybe one of the major factors why it takes me so long to finish a book.) And when I do have my mojo going being interrupted can spoil my entire flow, so much so that the rest of the day is lost, because getting into that flow and mojo is not an easy thing.

NINE

I hate, HATE having to write sex scenes, I hate it more than most authors hate to write the evil blurbs. It’s exhausting, frustrating and annoying to no end. I cringe every time I have to write one, it’s one of the things in writing that also takes up most of my time, one sex scene took me an entire month to write, because I am so anal about details and showing instead of telling. My sex scenes tend to be a whole chapter long, between 7-10k words. If I could get away with fade to black or even no sex scenes in my books I would, but I think readers would crucify me for it. I also hate books that have sex scene, upon sex scene, upon sex scene, I mostly skim over 90% of those while reading.

TEN

I rarely take photos of myself anymore, its way I have the same damn photos circulating my profile for the last six years, the reason? I suffer from severe plaque psoriasis, it’s so bad that it’s on my face now, and about 85% of my body. It’s not a fact that I feel insecure about it, I’ve been living with it for twenty four years, I have accepted it, it’s more a fact of making other people feel uncomfortable around me.

I can’t move without flakes of dead skin dropping off of me. In high school the comments I use to get from kids ranged from; AIDS boy to scale kid to reptile. Then being gay on top of that, in a community where beauty standards are so vain was hard. I can’t wear white because if I do, I risk the chance of blood staining the material, and if I wear black, well flakes, flakes of dead skin everywhere. I also have to be selective of the type of material and the thickness. If it’s too rough it will irritate my skin, if it’s too thick, it’s like I’m wearing four coats of thick wool; see, psoriasis is not a f*&^ing skin condition or disease.

Screw every doctor and dermatologist that says so. Psoriasis is an immune disorder, my immune system is basically on overdrive, hence why I very rarely get sick, and when I do I tend to recover quicker, cuts and bruises heal faster and my nails and hair grow quicker than a normal person does.

Psoriasis is identified by scales and itchy, dry patches on the skin, hence why so many associate it with a skin condition, the reason for this is, my skin cells reproduce quicker than normal, so the patches of flaky skin is basically just dead skin that needs to be shed.  What’s that got to do with too thick clothing, well the patches I do have are on fire, see when we are sick we get a fever, the fever is basically a sign that your immune system is responding and fighting back, If I were to place my hand on a patch of Psoriasis and a normal aria of skin is next it, one can clearly feel the different temperatures between the two, so yeah, thick textiles is just gonna make me feel hot.    

I have grown a thicker skin than most people, living with Psoriasis. Employers won’t take me on for a job because of my psoriasis, hence why I threw myself and am trying to create a steady income from writing. Treatment is costly to keep it under control and manageable, and unfortunately it needs to come straight out of my own pocket, we do have medical aid (medical insurance) but most of the creams I use are considered cosmetic and beauty products, and not covered by our medical aid. Heliotherapy alone for one month’s worth of four sessions would deplete our medical savings for the entire year completely. It’s an ongoing struggle I have to live with every day and the itching, man, the itching. You know when you have a cut or wound or even sunburn and it itches because it healing, that’s basically your body trying to shed the dead skin cells, now try to imagine feeling that every second of every day over your entire body. It’s enough to make most people irritated or crazy.   

And there you have it, ten author confession for a crazy person.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

They come to me in the night, creeping into my head. Their voices are all different, their stories all dissimilar, but they keep saying the same thing…

“Show us, tell us to the world. Bring us into yours, and make us known.”

Then I sit and they take over. They tell their tales of love, loss and sinister misfortune, not all of them get a happy ending, but they are pleased when their part is written.

I sometimes find myself lost in my own mind; a world very similar to our own yet so different. Things don’t go bump in the night—they squeal, and crawl under your skin, making you grind your teeth, and your stomach turn over and put your nerves on edge. Then there’s the drama. Oh, the drama!

I write because I must! There is so much inside of me that needs to get out. So many stories to tell, characters that want to be heard, and hearts lost and won. Words and art are my way of bringing my world to others. I enjoy telling tales of the human condition but working in elements of the supernatural. Werewolves, Vampires, Zombies, Witches and the unexplainable all set against the human world or worlds of their own.

Wulf Francú Godgluck hails from South Africa. His work is not for the faint-hearted! In his books, you’ll find… all the beasties with their nasty claws and teeth, and some you didn’t even know existed. But the monsters aren’t all real. Some live inside us. Who knows what he will make you discover about yourself, lurking in your heart, behind the closed walls of the deep, black recesses where no light penetrates? Wulf will steal your heart and never give it back. More than likely, he’ll pin it to the wall with a bobby pin and sit there sipping his tea while you writhe and squeal on the floor… STILL sure you want to read a Wulf Godgluck book?

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The Wulf Chronicles. Now available on Amazon: https://goo.gl/pWWi65

SYNOPSIS

What if werewolves were real?

What if one of them was different?

What if you were a defective werewolf?

This is not the story of how one night I got bitten and my life changed. Nor is it the story of how I went on a savage killing spree that left me tormented with guilt and dread the next morning.

No.

This is the story of a boy, a boy who’s spent his life running from the shadows of monsters. A boy who never understood why the world hated him with so much odium. Why his mother would throw away her only life to protect his. Why he was never allowed to have friends. Why he never had the childhood every child should. Why he was never allowed to cherish happiness.

This is the story of a boy becoming himself, embracing his vulnerability and learning to accept and love.

This is a story about a werewolf, trying to find the answers to why he was born defective.

And maybe that’s the very reason I become the main course on the menu.

The Wulf Chronicles Teaser 1

 

EXCERPT

A lycan’s sexual orientation was a completely nonproblematic topic. Most lycans, before meeting and knowing the gender of their mates, tended to be bisexual, however, there were the few cases, as with Leo, where a lycan knew beforehand what gender they were drawn to. And, luckily, the mating call was never cruel in that regard.

Contrary to how prejudice and discriminatory the Council and lycan community’s views on females were, homosexuality had never fazed the lycan race. It was part of their ancestry, as natural and accepting as bleeding.

“Go,”she growled at him, “before you shatter my stoic façade and have me in tears. I’m honored to know this beautiful thing is happening in my presence.”

Leo smiled, turned, and ascended the stairs, his grin fading as he neared the bathroom the Beta occupied.

He clutched the doorknob, squeezing his eyelids and drawing in a shaky breath, willing himself to calm down.

The knob ripped from under Leo’s grasp as the door swung open, the momentum of Cooler’s movements and of Leo’s stumble at the abrupt occurrence, sent them colliding into each other.

Cooler grabbed Leo by the throat and shoved him against the bathroom wall, his one eye glowing a furious blue fire as he glared up at him.

“If the pretty puppy wanted a kiss, all he had to do was whimper.”

Leo swallowed against the clutched grip squeezing his windpipe, any response stuck in his throat. Cooler leaned in close, released Leo’s neck, and cupped the back of his head, pulling him down before sealing their lips together.

Fire screamed through him, heat gnawed to the tips of Leo’s fingertips and toes as Cooler wrenched open Leo’s lips with nip of his teeth, shoving his fat tongue into Leo’s mouth…

No one said a lycan claiming his mate was a pretty event.

The kiss that followed was a soft and gentle devastation of sweet hunger.

Cooler’s lips were pure lightning against Leo’s, every hair on his body pulsated to attention. His growl simmered through their mouths, giving Leo ample knowledge of how much power resided within his mate, the vibration, a thunder, rattled him to his soul.

He didn’t dare touch Cooler. Just because they were sucking lips, didn’t mean the Beta had accepted Leo as his.

Cooler pulled back, his eye a bone-chilling dark as he glared up into Leo’s gaze.

Fat fingers slid from behind Leo’s neck, mapping their way along his cheek to brush over his lips, only to catch him by the chin.

Leo closed his eyes, both needing and dreading the words about to spill from his mate.

But time stretched, and it stretched, and it stretched as he waited.

His lips moved involuntarily, quivering, ready to speak, but only a whimper undulated through him. Cooler grunted, halting Leo’s tongue and washing hot air up into Leo’s face, reminding him of how close the Beta’s lips were to his own.

His insides squirmed, anticipating, hoping and wanting Cooler to bless him with another taste.

No kiss came, no words either. Only the scent of his mate. A spicy, intoxicating, rugged musk. Prime Bloods tended to have a heavier, far more domineering scent than half-breeds. That and, of course, the raw power they emanated were the only physical truths that set them apart.

Wulf Logo

They come to me in the night, creeping into my head. Their voices are all different, their stories all dissimilar, but they keep saying the same thing…

“Show us, tell us to the world. Bring us into yours, and make us known.”

Then I sit and they take over. They tell their tales of love, loss and sinister misfortune, not all of them get a happy ending, but they are pleased when their part is written.

I sometimes find myself lost in my own mind; a world very similar to our own yet so different. Things don’t go bump in the night—they squeal, and crawl under your skin, making you grind your teeth, and your stomach turn over and put your nerves on edge. Then there’s the drama. Oh, the drama!

I write because I must! There is so much inside of me that needs to get out. So many stories to tell, characters that want to be heard, and hearts lost and won. Words and art are my way of bringing my world to others. I enjoy telling tales of the human condition but working in elements of the supernatural. Werewolves, Vampires, Zombies, Witches and the unexplainable all set against the human world or worlds of their own.

Wulf Francú Godgluck hails from South Africa. His work is not for the faint-hearted! In his books, you’ll find… all the beasties with their nasty claws and teeth, and some you didn’t even know existed. But the monsters aren’t all real. Some live inside us. Who knows what he will make you discover about yourself, lurking in your heart, behind the closed walls of the deep, black recesses where no light penetrates? Wulf will steal your heart and never give it back. More than likely, he’ll pin it to the wall with a bobby pin and sit there sipping his tea while you writhe and squeal on the floor… STILL sure you want to read a Wulf Godgluck book?

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Blog Tour for Leaning Into Forever (Leaning Into #7) by Lane Hayes (excerpt and giveaway)

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LEANING INTO FOREVER

Leaning Into Series Book 7

LANE HAYES

M/M ROMANCE

RELEASE DATE: 06.26.18

Leaning Into Forever Cover

COVER ARTIST: REESE DANTE

AMAZON US

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AMAZON AU 

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Geordie De La Rosa is a legend among wine lovers in Napa Valley. His ultra-fabulous style paired with a penchant for leading impromptu sing-a-longs has made him a star attraction at Conrad Winery. Co-owning a well-respected winery was never Geordie’s aspiration but he likes the niche he’s made for himself. He won’t deny that his job and his friends have helped ease his heartache and grief after the death of his longtime partner.

Levi Yeager excels at the art of reinventing himself. He’s been a minor league baseball player, a college coach and now a restaurant owner. The problem is he doesn’t know anything about the food business. And when his chef quits unexpectedly, he’s afraid his new venture is doomed. But Levi isn’t a quitter. It may be the only thing he has in common with the beautiful, sassy man from the neighboring winery who agrees to help get his new business up and running. Neither man counts on their fast friendship or the wild attraction they feel for each other. However, they know they won’t stand a chance until they let go of the past and lean into forever.

Leaning Into Forever Teaser 1

Leaning Into Forever Teaser 2

EXCERPT

“I can’t decide what to sing. The Sound of Music is always a winner, but perhaps I should try—”

“Grease,” Levi suggested out of the fucking blue. He chuckled when I jumped, and then he handed me a napkin to clean the burgundy liquid that sloshed over the rim of my wineglass.

“Where the hell did you come from? And why are you always sneaking up on me?” I asked irritably as I wrapped the napkin around the stem of my glass.

“I didn’t sneak up on you. You asked for a music suggestion, and I gave you one.”

“I wasn’t asking your opinion,” I huffed without heat. “I was talking to myself.”

“Again?”

“I’m always talking to myself.”

I lifted my glass to my lips to hide my involuntary hum of approval. Damn, he cleaned up nicely. His slicked-back hair and close-shaven hint of a beard went well with his white oxford button-down shirt, houndstooth blazer, and snug designer jeans. And holy hell…cowboy boots.

“People are gonna think you’re weird if you keep that up,” he singsonged playfully.

“I hope so. Weird is the ultimate badge of honor.” I raised my glass in a mock toast then gave him a lascivious once-over that was too flirty to be taken seriously. “You look very handsome. I wouldn’t think to pair a sophisticated jacket with ranch chic and yet, somehow you’ve made it work.”

Levi crossed his arms and leaned against the wall with a slow-growing grin. The latent sensuality in the lazy upturn of his full lips fascinated me. Or maybe it was the cowboy boots.

“Thanks. I think.”

“Anytime. I should go.” I shoved my glass into his free hand then flung my yellow scarf over my shoulder and pinched my cheeks to add a touch of natural color before bowing theatrically. “Adieu. My audience awaits.”

“Hang on.” He stepped in front of me before I could escape. “I want to talk to you for a second.”

The billowy sleeves of my black tunic fluttered as I motioned for him to hurry. “What is it?”

“I didn’t have a chance to thank you for helping me out today. The stuffed jalapeños were a hit. And they went well with the wine.”

“You’re welcome. I know my peppers, and I know my Pinot. You were smart to print out a sample menu for La Vid. The font was all wrong, but it was still a nice touch,” I enthused. “Now excuse me while I—”

Levi grabbed my elbow to stop me. “La Vid?”

“It’s just a suggestion, of course, but I think a touch of Spanish flair would be well-received. Every other business in this town has the word vine or wine in it. La Vid would stand out. Think about it.”

“I will. What was wrong with the font?” he asked, furrowing his brow.

I grabbed my drink from his hand and took a small sip. “You used Helvetica, Levi. That’s almost as boring as Times New Roman.”

It didn’t seem possible, but his forehead creased a little more as his frown deepened. “At no point in my life did I ever think I’d ask this question at a party but…what font would you suggest?”

“Andale or Century Gothic. Or better yet, Monaco,” I replied without hesitation. “Something classy yet understated and sophisticated. That’s what you’re going for with your restaurant, correct?”

“Yes. Exactly. Wes told me you’re responsible for the overall aesthetic at Conrad Winery. Are you a budding designer on top of being a cabaret singer?”

I grinned at his teasing tone. “Yes and no. I have zero training in either endeavor, but I’m pretty damn good at both if I do say so myself.”

“And modest too,” he quipped.

“Modesty will get you nowhere. If you want something, you’d better speak up before someone else swoops in.”

“Agreed. I want something.” Levi inched closer, seeming suddenly larger than life. His shoulders were broader, and his expression was more intense.

“What do you want?”

“You.”

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Lane Hayes is grateful to finally be doing what she loves best. Writing full-time! It’s no secret Lane loves a good romance novel. An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to well-told love story with beautifully written characters. These days she prefers the leading roles to both be men. Lane discovered the M/M genre a few years ago and was instantly hooked. Her debut novel was a 2013 Rainbow Award finalist and subsequent books have received Honorable Mentions, and were winners in the 2016 Rainbow Awards. She loves red wine, chocolate and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband in an almost empty nest.

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A MelanieM Review: Hard Contact (Guild Enforcer, #1) by Ali Atwood

Rating: 2.5 stars out of 5

 

Hard Contact is the first book in the Guild Enforcer Series, a sexy, action-packed gay romance with no cliffhangers and a HEA ending.

On the surface, Ty Lighthorne is a successful bounty hunter based in Boston. Undercover, he’s part of a covert task force regulated by the Fae Justice Guild. Ty and the team pursue paranormal criminals who’ve escaped to the human realm to avoid punishment. Since Ty is a hybrid, half human and half Fae, he’s totally at home in both dimensions.

Reed Harrison’s dream of becoming a piano soloist was in his grasp until tragedy ripped his world apart. When the justice system fails him, he devises his own method of retribution reinventing himself as a licensed bounty hunter.

Ty and Reed are polar opposites, but events force them into partnership and the sexual sparks fly. Reed maintains his distance because he’s all about the mission—hell-bent on revenge. Ty is a mix of toughness and devil-may-care with a strong allegiance to the Justice Guild. He knows better than to trust anyone with his secrets. A hot-blooded affair could threaten both their futures.

Hard Contact is the first novel I’ve read by this author so I’ve no idea if its representative of her other stories.  For me, Hard Contact shows promise but it just didn’t deliver on them.  So let’s start with the positives.

What drew me to pick up and read the story was the synopsis.  I loved the idea of a half fae/half human detective pairing up with a human partner to hunt down a murderer.  Even better when one has a personal connection to the case and said murderer.   Add to that a sexual attraction and evolving romance?  You have me hooked but good!

Atwood’s main characters are nicely done.  I liked Ty and Reed. Ty Lighthorne is given an interesting background (more on that later) as is Reed.  That they both end up working for the same bonds company?  Ok, and on the same job?  Alllllright.  But things start to break down shortly after that.  Nice central characters and great plot.

Which leads to insta love and other issues which I’m starting in on below.

Multiple povs.  Which I normally don’t have a problem if done correctly.  However here one (two others are Ty and Reed) is the killer’s and it really has no purpose other than titillation.  It pops up a couple of times but his character is never fully developed.  This element feels more like a narrative dud than a narrative do, if you know what I mean.

Then there is the world building here which is supposed to supply the novel (and therefore the characters) with a sturdy foundation.  Instead, its more like a shaky one.  You never get a good handle on the concept of Middle Earth here (flying cars? Werewolves?)  Plus there are huge holes in the author’s backstory for Ty and the creation of the Guild Enforcers.  So no one would notice a pattern of  children disappearing at certain age from good homes around the US?  Or the children themselves rebelling?  Wanting to return home?  That whole element is full of  narrative cracks that  need so much work and many more pages if not chapters.

So much that just doesn’t ring true.

And then there’s the important “non entities”.  Ty is a member of a trio of 3 enforcers who are legend.  We see the other two briefly and then not at all other than. Kapow! Look at them  go sort of thing.  Shakes head.

Secondary character development is important.  I can’t stress that enough.  You don’t want your main characters to live in a bubble.  Ty and Reed sort of do here to their and the story’s detriment.

And one last issue.  Having humans know about the Middle Earth is a huge “No”.  Apparently its cause for jail time, etc.  So what does our hero do?  Yes, of course, blithely take Reed through a portal without permission and show him Middle Earth. Smh.  Yes, there is no continuity here.  Just one big narrative crater after another.

Hard Contact is the first in a series but I’m leaving my reading at one book.  There’s just not enough here to make me want to continue.

Cover art:  Books by Khaleesi.  The cover certainly doesn’t say fantasy but could be for any murder/mystery story.  Interesting but a fail for this story.

Sales Links:  Amazon

Book Details:

ebook, 178 pages
Published June 22nd 2018
ISBN13B07CZPQ165
Edition Language English

A Barb the Zany Old Lady Audiobook Review: With A Kick Collection #1 by Clare London and Joel Leslie (Narrator

Rating: 4 stars out of 5

This collection includes Clare London’s first two London-based novellas of the With A Kick series—A Twist and Two Balls and Slap and Tickle. Also included are two short stories featuring the characters in these books—Nice and Snow and Smack Happy.

With a Kick is a new ice cream shop, featuring ice cream for adults, i.e., ice cream made with liquor in a variety of flavors, one of which is named for the shop’s accountant, Bryan, and his new boyfriend, Phiz—Slap and Tickle. Patrick and Lee are the struggling owners who hope to be successful in the little shop located in the heart of London.

Each story is a self-contained romance, but Patrick and Lee are featured in each story that shows the progress of both their relationship and the business.

A Twist and Two Balls— Eduardo Mancini is going to be a star of the London stage. Unfortunately, his alter ego, Eddy March, hasn’t got further than a bit part in a TV series. One day, when he’s late for an audition, he can’t pay his taxi fare, so he runs off and is chased by the irate driver, Nuri.

This is a sweet romance that starts off with antagonism and moves to love between an awkward, self-proclaimed actor and a cab driver, who has a secret profession. I enjoyed the pace of this story and both characters were terrific. Eddie is hysterically funny as he discovers he doesn’t have enough money to pay Nuri. Nuri, on the other hand, comes off as gruff at first, but it turns out he’s got a sweet marshmallow center.

The two have their ups and downs as does Eddie with his career, but in the long run, it’s family that’s important, and family who help both of them, and the two men get to do what they love best and stay with the person they love best—each other.

Slap and Tickle— This short starts right off with a great scene between Brian, the staid accountant for With a Kick, and Phiz, whose name should have been Spaz. Phiz is a fast-talking, can’t-control-his-mouth klutz, who can’t hold a job because of said klutziness. He also suffers from social anxiety, yet he keeps choosing jobs that require socialization. Joel Leslie kicked it out of the ball park with the voice he gives Phiz. Good heavens, it was perfect! I was hooked immediately, so I was along for the ride as he and Brian got to know each other and began to share their most intimate desires.

This story has a mild BDSM theme and when Brian’s dominant side comes out, Phiz calms and quiets as he finally met a man who can give him what he needs.

Nice and Snow is the first short story—which is actually quite long—and features Nuri and Eddie during their first Christmas season. Nuri is now brushing up on law studies so he can pass the bar exam, and Eddie is working as an actor in a comedy show. Right up his alley, his natural sense of humor has made him very popular.

The story centers on their individual memories of holiday seasons and their plans for this first one. Of course, Nuri’s family wants them to share with them, but Eddie insists they start their own memories because his memories of Santa, Saint Nick, Baba Noel, or whatever name is used are not good ones.

A surprise cab fare and a short ride across town brings both men their Christmas wishes come true. It also leaves them realizing they may have to rethink their beliefs in the jolly old elf. A great story, it provides a nice closure to Nuri and Eddie’s story.

Smack Happy

A delightful short, short story about my favorite character, Phiz, and his Dom, Brian. Phiz is patiently—or impatiently—waiting for Brian to finish his work so he can give Brian a Valentine’s Day gift. Brian finally gives up trying to get anything done when Phiz’s antsy movements and constant interruptions make it clear Bryan had better pay attention to his boy. When Phiz presents him with his gift, the two try it out and find that a good smack on the rear was exactly what Phiz needed to make him happy and peaceful. Add in a taste of Slap and Tickle, the ice cream treat the guys at With a Kick created in their honor, and it’s a perfect Valentine’s Day for these sweethearts. Very cute and a perfect ending for this very nice audio.

Joel Leslie was, as usual, outstanding, and the stories were intriguing and fun. This audiobook sped by and I’m looking forward to the next edition in the series that should be released soon.

Highly recommended.

The cover features a handsome young man and there’s a sweet treat obviously created at the With a Kick ice cream shop in the bottom right corner.

Buy Links and Listen to a sample here

Audible US

Audible UK 

Amazon

Audiobook Details:

Audible Audiobook
Listening Length: 8 hours and 40 minutes
Program Type: Audiobook
Version: Unabridged
Publisher: Jocular Press
Audible.com Release Date: June 20, 2018
Language: English
ASIN: B07DVRZ7SY

New Release Blitz for Nectar and Ambrosia (Amaranthine Inheritance #1) by E.M. Hamill (excerpt and giveaway)

Title:  Nectar and Ambrosia

Series: Amaranthine Inheritance #1

Author: E.M. Hamill

Publisher:  Star Bard Books

Release Date: June 30, 2018

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Male/Female, Male/Male

Length: 81576

Genre: Fantasy, urban/mythical

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Synopsis

Callie, a Classics major, flees home to protect her family from a monster straight out of mythology.  Visions lead her to Nectar and Ambrosia: the weirdest pub on Earth, where inter-dimensional travelers with attention seeking issues get drunk in between the A-list celebrity lives they create. They can’t pretend to be gods anymore—not since a treaty with the current Supreme Deity promising they won’t intervene in human affairs.

The Doorkeeper of this threshold, Florian, rides herd on the rowdy Amaranthine and offers her shelter and a job. Callie likes the lonely, mysterious bartender more than she should. For Florian, her presence is a ray of light in the gray monotony of his sentence behind the bar, but he keeps a cautious distance—the truth of how he became Doorkeeper could change Callie’s perception of him forever.

When angels show up for a war council over Zeus’s irrational mutters about a comeback, Callie has uncontrolled visions of an apocalypse.  Ex-gods realize she’s the first Oracle Priestess in generations. All Callie wanted was keep her parents safe, and now it seems she must sacrifice her future to keep the rest of humanity safe, too. Ambrosia could be the key to harnessing her visions— or it could cost her life.

War is coming. The threshold between worlds has never been more fragile. Callie must discover who is pulling Zeus’s strings and avert the final battle—before the immortal vying to become the next Supreme Deity kills her first.​

Excerpt

Callie turned away, trying to decide if Florian and all his clientele were delusional or if it was some kind of big role-playing game for rich people. Folks could have a thing about dressing up in furry animal costumes. She supposed they could pretend to be gods and goddesses too. If it was a mythology RPG, they weren’t concerned with the classical part, except for the guy she saw yesterday afternoon. She was relieved to have a rational explanation for the horns.

Something moved outside the glass front door. Her heart seized in momentary panic. What if the monster still lurked out there?

Strange, visible turbulence seemed to ripple the panes. Callie squeezed her eyes shut to clear her sight and prayed it wasn’t the aura of an oncoming seizure. Cool relief extinguished the rising sparks of panic as the effect dissipated.

The door opened and revealed a spiky-haired, punk rock kid years too young to be in any bar. Callie was forced to squint in order see him clearly as he strode in, his outlines strangely blurred and soft. Sullen teenaged fluidity rolled in every line of his body. He surveyed the bar, narrow kohl-ringed eyes settling on the heavily intoxicated Zeus. A sneer comprised of equal parts contempt and satisfaction flickered over his mouth.

“There he is, the great king of the gods,” he muttered. He moved toward the bar, a glare of disdain sweeping over the other patrons. His eyes widened in appreciation as they passed over Callie, a little smirk growing as his gaze lingered too long on the front of her college t-shirt.

Despite her confusion on how he’d arrived, she gave him a thin smile and a cool nod, crossing her arms over her chest. He stopped short, an expression of shock on his face. Then a quick, sunny grin took over. His blurry outlines sharpened as he drew closer and she relaxed her squinted eyes, no longer struggling to focus on him. She decided it was a trick of the neon-tinted lights hanging in garish advertisement on the walls of the bar.

“My, my, my. Who have we here?” His voice, thick with Cockney vowels, dipped to an intimate tone as he approached. His body language changed to something more unsettlingly mature. He was older than he appeared. “Who do you belong to?”

“I’m Callie. I don’t belong to anybody, but I work for Florian,” she corrected him politely. “Can I get you something?”

“Well, for starters, tequila.” He smirked suggestively. “And your undivided attention.”

Callie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. No matter where she worked, the pickup lines were the same.

“I’m sorry, I’m busy working. I’ll ask Florian for your tequila. On the rocks, or a shot?”

“On the rocks, love.”

“I’ll need to see some ID first.”

“You are new here, aren’t you?” He flipped two fingers out, a driver’s license between them.  She took it. No stranger to fake ID’s, this one appeared to be real, and passed him as twenty-one. Still…

“John Smith, huh?”

He captured Callie’s fingers as she returned the license and kissed the back of her hand in old-fashioned courtliness, sea-colored eyes glinting in mischief. An odd, visceral twinge from her early warning system made her startle as his lips touched her skin. Goose bumps flecked her arms. A totally alien sensation overwhelmed her senses: it was as if something crawled off her skin toward his mouth. She shivered in response and tried to pull her hand away. His grin widened as he tightened his grip, apparently delighted by her discomfiture.

“Oh, ho. That’s a lovely surprise. Don’t mind me. I’m incorrigible. Call me Puck.” He scribed an expansive circular gesture with his free hand. “Welcome to the watering hole of the damned bored.”

Callie forced a smile. “Thank you. Now, if you’ll let go of my hand, I’ll get your drink.”

Puck made a mocking bow over her hand and released it, smirking again as he backed away, still admiring her in undisguised interest. Between them, a well-dressed man stepped directly into Callie’s path. He swerved with a graceful spin and apologized as Callie’s sneakers squeaked to an abrupt halt on the concrete floor.

“Sorry, hon. Good evening, gods and goddesses!”

“Herm!” came a shouted group greeting from the room at large.

“And fairies,” the man belatedly added, nodding at the punk rocker.

Puck offered him an extended middle finger and a dangerous smile. Callie’s mouth fell open, recognizing the Armani-suited guy from the previous afternoon.

“Jeeze, homophobic much?” she muttered.

“Trust me love, I am all fairy and he is far from homophobic. Sexual orientation has nothing to do with him being a prick.” Puck glared at the man’s back with undisguised hatred before another lightning-quick mood change and a devilish grin took over. “Make that tequila a double.” He winked at her, eyes making another head to toe rake of her body before he disappeared into the clump of huge Scandinavian-looking, Corona-swilling dart players.

Callie’s hair still prickled on the back of her neck even after Puck left, and she rubbed it, troubled. She turned back to the room, stopped short, and stared. More customers sat at tables and in the shadows of the booths, each group just a little stranger than the last. None of them used the door.

And the Armani guy—he’d stepped into her path. Right out of the air.

Something intensely freaky was happening that she couldn’t rationalize away, no matter how hard she tried.

Was Florian telling the truth?

Instead of fear, a deep, visceral excitement flip-flopped in her abdomen, butterflies on steroids.

She never pinpointed exactly when wonder began to crowd out her reservations. Rushing between the cooler and the tables, she caught snatches of conversation and shouted greetings when others appeared. Having to bite back questions when she delivered their beverages replaced the urge to roll her eyes. She fought to keep a professional demeanor rather than fangirl all over herself when Florian introduced the Armani guy to her as Hermes. Hermes! One of her favorite characters in Greek mythology.

Three hours into the shift, she took a quick bathroom break. Her back against the door, Callie put her hands over her mouth and muffled something that sounded suspiciously like a shriek. Whether it was fear or excitement, she couldn’t quite say. Her breath came fast and short until she got dizzy. She spun the tap on the sink and the shock of cold water on her face helped bring her back down.

“What the hell, Callie? Are you really going to believe this?” she muttered to herself in the mirror. She grabbed a paper towel to blot the moisture away and waded back out into the crowded bar.

Purchase

Star Bard Books | Amazon Kindle | Amazon Paperback |Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iTunes

Meet the Author

Elisabeth “E.M.” Hamill is a nurse by day, unabashed geek, chocoholic, sci fi and fantasy novelist by nights, weekends, and wherever she can steal quality time with her laptop. She lives with her family, a dog, and a cat in the wilds of eastern suburban Kansas, where they fend off flying monkey attacks and prep for the zombie apocalypse.
​

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | eMail

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Release Blitz – The Dragon’s Thief by Riza Curtis – (giveaway)

 

Available on Kindle Unlimited
 
Buy Links: Amazon US | Amazon UK
 
Cover Design: Riza Curtis
 
Length: 20,000 words approx.
 
Blurb
 

Chester. Magpie shifter, renowned thief.


Chester knows better than to get involved when a dragon requests his services. Anyone who steals from a dragon’s hoard is not to be screwed with. There’s something alluring about Michal though, and Chester’s always loved playing with fire…


Michal. Dragon shifter, first-born son.


Michal knows exactly who’s taken the centrepiece of his hoard—his estranged brother. The one person he can’t touch thanks to family politics. It seems simple enough to hire the little magpie shifter to retrieve what is his. But, Chester is nothing like Michal expected, and in the end he might need to decide whether the last piece of his mother is worth more than the man who could own his heart.

Author Bio


Riza began writing stories at a young age to the a̶n̶n̶o̶y̶a̶n̶c̶e̶ delight of anyone she could b̶u̶l̶l̶y̶ persuade to read them. Now somewhat older, if not wiser, things haven’t really changed.


Riza lives in England where they enjoy adding extra letters to words, tea, and discussing the weather (it’s always raining). She has a FdSci in Manufacturing Engineering and is currently working towards her BEng. When she’s not writing, studying or doing her day job, Riza is obsessed with target archery and enjoys shooting barebow.


www.rizacurtis.com
Twitter: @rizacurtis
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/riza.curtis.author
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/rizacurtis

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Release Blitz for the The Pet Stylist and The Playboy (The Hedonist #2) by Rebecca James (excerpt)

 The PetStylist And The Playboy Blitz Banner

THE PET STYLIST AND THE PLAYBOY

The Hedonist Book 2

REBECCA JAMES

M/M ROMANCE

RELEASE DATE: 07.07.18

ThePetStylistAndThePlayboy-600x900 

Cover Design:   Reese Dante

AMAZON US: https://amzn.to/2KDP9w0

AMAZON UK: https://amzn.to/2ucScQz

 

BLURB

Swish has been in love with Dante since the day the tough biker found him homeless and miserable in a gas station restroom, but Dante’s never shown the younger man anything more than brotherly affection. Deciding it’s time to move out of the MC’s clubhouse and away from Dante, Swish takes a live-in job working in a privately-owned animal shelter where he can continue his pet stylist business. What he doesn’t realize is he’s not going to be as far away from the object of his affection as he thinks.

Dante’s time of being a playboy biker is fast coming to a close. At summer’s end he turns 30, and that means fulfilling his promise to his parents and returning to high society in the Hamptons. That dim prospect should be all Dante can think about, only Swish is moving out, and suddenly Dante can’t do anything but obsess over the kid he’s always thought of as a younger brother. Telling himself he’s only making sure Swish is doing okay on his own, Dante takes a summer job landscaping at the animal shelter where Swish has taken a job. There he learns a few things about the young man he’s never bothered to find out before, including that Swish’s real name is Isaac, and he enjoys wearing a certain something under his jeans–something that Dante’s surprised to find he would really like to remove–preferably with his teeth.

When Dante gives in to his need for Isaac, the playboy biker quickly finds that disentangling himself from the man he once thought of as a kid brother proves harder than expected, and that perhaps after years of one-night-stands and partying, his priorities need to change. Only not in the way his wealthy and controlling parents want them to.

ThePetStylistAndThePlayboy-promoblock-800x600 

 

EXCERPT

I’d never seen Swish so…undressed. Despite sharing a room for two years, he’d never taken his clothes off in front of me. And those tiny bathing briefs weren’t covering up much. First there was Swish’s cute bubble butt I’d always tried to pretend I didn’t notice, then that package in front that the wet briefs did a poor job of concealing. I swear I’d seen it harden.

Realizing Swish was getting a boner, I’d met his deep, dark gaze.

“See something you like?” he’d asked me in that flirtatious manner that he fucking never directed at me. My balls had tightened, and time had stilled for who knows how long. I didn’t even comprehend what he’d called to me over his shoulder before disappearing into the house. Even then, I’d just stood there until reality had slowly started seeping in, and I’d realized I was staring at the house like an idiot.

I swung around and got to work, hammering like a fiend, but my mind kept going back to Swish in his swim briefs, and I missed the nail and hit my thumb with the hammer instead.

“Mother fucker!” Goddamn, that hurt!

Deirdre stuck her head out the door.

“You okay?” she asked.

I wanted to rail at her that no, I wasn’t fucking okay, but she was only trying to help, and it wasn’t her fault I had been daydreaming instead of watching what I was doing. Stuffing my thumb into my mouth, I nodded and gave her a rueful smile.

I hadn’t been back at it ten minutes when Swish sashayed out the front door wearing a pair of jeans and a tight T-shirt with a unicorn on it. He’d braided his long, thick hair over his shoulder, and I suddenly wanted to grab it like a rope and pull him close. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he bent to pick up a piece of wood. His shirt rode up, exposing smooth skin and a thin piece of lace just above the low waist of his jeans. This time, I caught myself before I pounded my thumb. Fumbling the hammer, I dropped it on the ground, just missing my foot.

My brain faltered, thoughts slamming into one another before backing up and restarting the flow.

Holy shit, was Swish wearing a lace thong?

Swish turned around and caught me staring. But, hell, I couldn’t look away. I was sure I’d never seen him with anything like that on his body before. Or had I ever really paid attention? Had I spent so much time trying to compartmentalize Swish, like Zeke had said, while I fucked away thoughts of a dismal future? No. There was no way I wouldn’t have noticed the single most sexy thing I’d ever seen in my life.

“What’s the matter?” Swish’s voice cut into my self-assessment.

I licked my lips, trying to get a grip on myself. I could lie, turn around and resume working, and bang my thumb all over again; or I could address the issue.

Swish had always been one to speak his mind, maybe I’d take a page out of his book and go for it. Besides, my hand couldn’t take much more abuse.

“Are you—” Frustrated at how shaking my voice sounded, I cleared my throat and blurted, “What the fuck are you wearing?”

Swish’s face shuttered, and I immediately wished I hadn’t said anything. But there was no going back now, and I couldn’t leave him with the impression I was judging him.

“I mean, uh, are those…are you wearing…” I could feel blood rushing to my face as I tried and failed to make it seem like a casual question.

“A lace thong? Yes.” Swish turned his back to me again and got to work.

I was having trouble breathing because I could see it—that thin strip of lace crossing Swish’s lower back.

I swallowed hard before attempting to speak again. “I didn’t know you liked that kind of thing.”

Swish turned on me so fast, I almost toppled over the stack of wood behind me.

“That kind of thing? You mean wearing women’s underwear? Why, yes, Dante, I do enjoy that kind of thing. I always have. Do you have a problem with that?”

An angry Swish was almost as captivating as a Swish wearing ladies’ underwear. His cheeks got red, his dark eyes sparked fire, and that quirky mouth rearranged itself into a hot sneer. He didn’t get worked up that often, but when he did, the sight never failed to raise my heart rate.

“No, of course not. I’d just never known…that about you.”

“And why would you know that? You’ve never shown an interest in my underwear before.”

I straightened and carefully stepped aside to avoid the planks of wood. “I’m not showing an interest—I was just surprised, that’s all.” I ran my hand over my hair. “Hell, lately it feels like I never knew you at all.”

Swish frowned. “You’ve never tried to get to know me.”

“We’ve talked a lot,” I objected.

“Not about anything important,” Swish mumbled, looking away. “Not until recently, when you asked about my past.”

I stood transfixed, thinking about it. We’d joked around and watched movies, but had we really never touched on anything personal? Ever, in the entire two years? I didn’t want to admit to myself I’d been so dismissive of him, or that he might have been reluctant to ask me about myself. He seemed to know just about everything about the other guys. And come to think of it, I really didn’t know a hell of a lot about them either.

“Maybe I’ve been a little self-involved,” I said. I could tell I’d surprised him. I turned away and picked up the hammer I had dropped, very aware of Swish’s eyes on me. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and for the first time ever, I was relieved to see my father’s name on the screen.

Rebecca James Logo

I’ve always loved to write and have written since I was a child, usually to entertain my family. I enjoy writing m/m romance because there’s nothing hotter than two men in a loving relationship. I write contemporary romance but am not limited to that. I enjoy writing alpha/omega and vampire stories, and I wouldn’t rule other things out. I’m very prolific, so look for a lot of things to come!

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/pg/rebeccajamesgayromance/about/?ref=page_internal

Twitter: https://twitter.com/rjamesromance1

Website: https://rebeccajamesgayromance.wordpress.com/

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A MelanieM Review: From the Ashes (Boystown #6) by Marshall Thornton

Rating: 5 stars out of 5

 

It’s winter 1984. Private Investigator Nick Nowak has allowed his life to fall to pieces: He’s stopped taking cases, given up his apartment and taken a job as a bartender at a sleazy joint tucked under the El. All he wants to do is stay hidden and lick his wounds after the death of his lover, Detective Bert Harker.

But when the least likely person in the world shows up at the bar and asks him to take a new case, he finds himself investigating the very unsuspicious death of a priest. Nick is convinced he’s wasting his time until the clues begin to add up to something entirely unsuspected.

How does one come back from a self imposed mental and emotional death?  That’s the state that Nick Novak has put himself into after the devastating events of Murder Book (Boystown #5).  Shocked even by his own actions, Nick has given up his detection work, his apartment, and withdrawn from the few friends he had into a drunken isolation.

It takes the one person he leasts expects bringing him a case to finally draw him back into reevaluating his current affairs and where he thinks he can go from here.

Somebody needs to invent new adjectives for Marshall Thornton’s body of work. The ones we have just get overused because of novels like From the Ashes.  Words like “beautifully written, simply brilliant, and thought-provoking” are just not enough.

No, I’m not gushing.

Readers have been wondering what comes next for Nick.  How does he pick himself up?  Now we have our answer.  And it’s perfect.  Because it’s slow, punishing, and a surprise every step of the way.

Nothing is ever easy for this man. Life seems to just want to deliver the worst sort of  smackdown to him in every aspect of his life.  But eventually, up he gets.  Whether its his curiosity, or some ounce of self preservation, or determination not to let the “others” win…Nick somehow gets up and goes forward.

Thornton has always made us fall into step with this man.  Its not always been easy but we can’t help  ourselves.  Watching as Nick thinks or investigates his way through each murky, often seedy case is addictive.  So is watching the man work through his own issues past and  present (and there are many).  There are as many complications in Nick’s personal life as there are in his cases and often they overlap in surprising twisty ways.

That happens here again right from that start in the person who brings Nick the case that eventually jump starts his life again.  Of course, its going to get messy, dark, snarly, and bodies will appear.   But its also fundamentally about Nick’s loss and grieving.  It’s heartbreaking in so many ways.  Prepare yourself for that too.

Thornton uses Chicago’s many Catholic churches and parishes in this murder mystery and the fact that it’s parishioners often stayed with the  same parish and priest for years for Nick’s investigation.  It was fascinating and effective.  And I love the way the  entire story played out.

Thornton is a master at taking murder and suspense and weaving such heartfelt emotions throughout that at times you feel its so real, that Nick and the others are so much  flesh and blood, that it hurts in places to read on  (Murder Book is a prime example of that). That happens here too of course.

That we as readers have taken Nick into our hearts is due solely to Marshall Thornton, an author I love and highly recommend.  This book and series is but one place to start your introduction to him.

Yes, I highly recommend From the Ashes but its not a standalone.  It must be read in the order the books were written.  So start with the first collection and work your way here.  There’s also a terrific audiobook series, so start there if that’s more to your liking.

Cover art again is more about the emotions reflected inside and about branding the series.  I like the covers for the Pinx Video better.

Sales Links: Amazon US | Amazon UK

Book Details:

Kindle Edition, 198 pages
Published February 20th 2015 (first published December 1st 2013)
ASINB00R0HRH7A
Edition LanguageEnglish
SeriesBoystown #6
Literary Awards Lambda Literary Award Nominee (2013)

Series:

Boystown Bundle 1 – 3 – Amazon US | Amazon UK
Book #4 A Time For Secrets – Amazon US | Amazon UK
Book #5 Murder Book – Amazon US | Amazon UK
Book #6 From The Ashes – Amazon US | Amazon UK
Book #7 Bloodlines – Amazon US | Amazon UK (ON SALE for 99c)
Book #8 The Lies That Bind – Amazon US | Amazon UK
Book #9 Lucky Days – Amazon US | Amazon UK
Book #10 Gifts Given – Amazon US | Amazon UK
Book #11 Hearts Desire – Amazon US | Amazon UK (PREORDER