Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words

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Blurb

When the mercenary Caledon meets a young man named Hadrian, he falls instantly, hopelessly in love with him. Black-haired and silver-eyed, Hadrian is unlike any man Caledon has seen before. His uncertain responses to Caledon’s advances only make the mercenary more determined to pursue and win him.

But Hadrian is a mystery, and harbors untold secrets. He hails from an island inhabited by sorcerers and has come to Caledon’s city to recruit the mercenaries for a well-paying job offered by Hadrian’s father. Except the job is a lie. Hadrian is far more dangerous than his disposition suggests, and what he wants with Caledon and the mercenaries of Rhiad will forever change the land and set in motion a prophecy that will bind two men together in love, lust, and hatred…until death.

A previous version of this book was published as The Sorcerer’s Betrayal. This book has been re-written and re-edited.

Excerpt

He could see now that he had erred when he had first tried to label Hadrian.

Caledon had been fascinated by the other man’s apparent inexperience and naiveté. But the truth seemed more incredible. Hadrian was untouched―untouched by affection, untouched by desire. How this had come to be, Caledon couldn’t imagine. But he knew it to be true. He felt it in his bones.

Nothing else could explain why Hadrian literally melted beneath his caresses. Every touch Caledon made upon the younger man’s skin left Hadrian trembling and breathless. Why has no one done this before me? Caledon wondered as he eased open the stall door with his free arm wrapped firmly about Hadrian’s back.

He should simply be grateful that it was he who had been the one to find Hadrian first. That was what his self-serving side told him. But a deeper, more empathetic part of him was saddened by the discovery. Everyone deserved the comforts of touch, of affection. Why hadn’t anyone offered those things to Hadrian?

Caledon’s body urged him to ignore the mystery. He wasn’t trying to develop a permanent relationship with the other man. Hadrian would be gone in a few days. This would be but an interlude for them both.

Even so, Caledon vowed to make it something worth remembering.

About the Author

Tricia Owens has been writing m/m fiction since 2000, after stumbling onto the term ‘slash’ and thinking it referred to horror stories. She is the author of the Sin City, A Pirate’s Life for Me, and Juxtapose City series, among several others. She lives in Las Vegas.

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Love Fantasy Fiction? Check out the Release Blitz for Apple Boy (The Quiet Work #1) by Isobel Starling (excerpt)

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Apple Boy (The Quiet Work #1)

Author: Isobel Starling

Publisher: Decent Fellows Press

Cover Artist: Valentine Pascadian (Lennel)

Genre/s: Fantasy, M/M Romance

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length:103 600 words/ 556 pages

Release Date: February 15, 2019

Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Blurb

After a traumatic event, Winter Aeling finds himself destitute and penniless in the backwater town of Mallowick. He needs to travel to the city of Serein and impart grave news that will bring war to the Empire, but without a horse, money, and with not a soul willing to help him, he has no choice but to line up with the common folk seeking paid work on the harvest.

As wagons roll into the market square and farmers choose day laborers, Winter is singled out for abuse by a brute of a farmer. The only man who stands up for him is the farmer’s beguiling son, Adam, and on locking eyes with the swarthy young man Winter feels the immediate spark of attraction.

Winter soon realizes there is a reason he has been drawn to Blackdown Farm. The farmer possesses a precious item that was stolen long ago from Winter’s family, and he determines to retrieve it. He also cannot take his eyes off the farmer’s son, and as the young man opens up Winter can’t help wondering if Adam is just kind or his kind!

Excerpt

“Apple Boy” by Isobel Starling

CHAPTER 1

MARKET SQUARE

“You boy, aye, YOU. Ain’t never seen ye round ‘ere before,” The farmer directed his bellow at me.

It was sunrise, and at last, I’d found the courage to step out of my hiding place and join the common laborers who gathered in Mallowick market square. We were waiting for the farmers’ carts to come by and choose their day workers. I’d watched this ritual each morning for the past three days, peeking out from shadowed doorways, or while crouching behind barrels.

It was harvest time, and it appeared to be routine for peasants to walk from the surrounding hamlets before dawn and assemble in the square to seek work on the farms. There was wheat, barley, root vegetables, and tree fruits to be gathered before the weather turned. I was informed by a ruddy looking fellow in the tavern that anyone could get work on the harvest, and so, with my pride cut to ribbons and my pockets empty, I’d stepped out of the safety of my hiding place and joined the commoners.

“Does ye wants work or no’? Look at me when I’m talkin’ to ye. What’s yer name?” The burley farmer roared. I looked up, stunned to be singled out from among all of these strapping men and hardy looking women, for I felt invisible. Four carts had already passed and taken their pick of the young, strong peasants, but none of those farmers gave me a second glance. I should have known something was afoot, for when this particular wagon turned up the women in the square shrank back into doorways, and men sidled away to lean against buildings. On the side of the wagon, writ-large in bold off-white letters were the words BLACKDOWN FARM. There were around thirty of us left on view, like cattle.

I had never partaken in manual labor or any kind of work before. I was a gentleman and far more familiar with spending my days relaxing, reading, attending social events in the city, or taking a horse for a gallop in the country. But my life had changed since I’d become stranded here in the Pasturelands provincial town of Mallowick two weeks earlier. Now I was living on my wits. Each day was a fight for my life, and I’d sold all of my fine belongings, intending to pay for passage on the stagecoach from Mallowick to the city of Serein. But I had not thought things through, and it did not happen that way. My body’s needs took precedent. I’d become so ravenous, and therefore the meager coin I’d gathered from selling my finery was spent on what I could afford—basic rough barley bread and ale, just enough to stave off the gnawing pangs of hunger in my belly each day. Now, I had no belongings, and the money was all but gone. I was no thief, and the only thing I had left to sell was my body. Looking like a wretch, I did not believe I could earn even a copper that way! Before I left on my travels, I was warned that the province of Erias had strict rules about men bedding other men and I did not want to tempt fate. I was at a loss—hard labor or starvation were the only choices available to me. Gods, if my father could see how far I’d fallen in such a short time, he would be thoroughly ashamed. I was living hand-to-mouth, and if I dared to seek out my reflection and observe my disreputable state of dress, I was sure I would see I was no longer a gentleman at all.

I assured myself that all would be well as soon as I could get to the city of Serein. There I would attend my father’s depository and obtain funds from his account—as had been arranged, and then, I could find my way to my uncle’s residence and attend to a much grimmer business.

So, with no other choice, I was here, standing in Mallowick market square with a bunch of rough-looking fellows and ruddy-faced women with just the ragged clothes I stood in to my name. I wondered if my visage had taken on the same gaunt, starved, haunted look some of them wore.

“WELL?” The farmer roared.

“Leave him be Pa; I think he’s a mute. P… p… please don’t—” A swarthy young man urged, stepping to the farmers’ side. The man appeared to be in his early twenties, with broad angular shoulders, slim hips, and wavy jaw-length hair that longingly reminded me of Montestein tea. When the morning sunlight broke through the clouds and caressed him, the strands of his hair revealed all the shades of autumn. It was beautiful. His eyes were bright emerald green, and his skin bore the wind-burned tan of a man who spent his days working the land. I met his gaze for a second that seemed to stop time, and I felt a flutter of longing erupt in my gut. I found myself mesmerized by him. He appeared a little embarrassed, for himself or for me, I wasn’t quite sure. The farmer turned to his son.

“Shut that filthy mouth o’ yours, apple boy!” he spat. His large meaty hands twitched. He sneered and glared at his son in such a wicked way I knew it should have been followed up by a sharp slap. I worried that the young man would endure further public humiliation at the hands of his father, but the farmer moved his disdainful glare back to me. I shuddered with fear. I had a feeling that he was saving his son’s punishment for later—away from the prying eyes of the townsfolk. I did not like that thought, not one bit. I did not know why the farmer was drawn to me, but he sized me up with a sweeping glance of consideration, then wrinkled his nose as if he’d sniffed a revolting stench—I hadn’t bathed in two weeks, so maybe I did smell a tad ripe!

“Is ye a mute?”

I shook my head. I would say, if anything, I was deeply traumatized by the unfortunate circumstance I’d found myself in, but no, I was certainly not a mute. I just wasn’t used to a lowly man speaking to me so roughly. Generally, men who dared to address me knew their betters and behaved appropriately. But here in Mallowick, in the province of Erias, I was no better than a beggar on the street. There was no one I could call on for favors, no one who, on hearing my family name, would loan me coin for the stagecoach or a horse to ride to the city and send word to my father.

When I’d first arrived in Mallowick, telling the truth of my station had gotten me dragged down an alley where my finger and earrings were stolen, and I’d received a beating. This farmer from Blackdown Farm had no idea who I was, and I would not make the same mistake again.

I took a breath and stepped out of line. “Master Irwin Harding, sir. You may call me Win.” I winced at hearing my own soft, well-spoken voice, with my accent, the clipped tongue of Thorn. I had not used my real name and wished I had not used my true voice either. The fact that I was the son of the Duke of Thorn meant nothing here. Thorn was west of Erias, on the other side of the Silua Montis Mountain range, and I doubted any of these illiterate souls in Mallowick knew anything other than that folklore passed around by storytellers.

The farmer stepped to stand in front of me. He was a big, bulky bastard of a man and stank of stale sweat and baccy. He had a grizzled podgy face and thick dark hair shot with strands of silver pulled into an untidy tail. The tension grew between us, and I worried I’d spoken out of turn. I looked down and watched my bare, filthy feet as if they held endless fascination. I’d seen men like him before. He had hands like shovels, and I’m sure they’d done damage in their time. My father would have used a man like him well, probably as muscle to intimidate the city folk while the Royal Chancellor did the rounds collecting taxes.

Afraid and sweating with anxiety, I glanced up and away, unable to look at the farmer directly and meet his fierce piggy eyes. Instead, I looked left and caught the eye of his son. I felt another flutter of attraction. I was grateful for it because it dampened my fear a little. The glance the farmers’ son sent me back was sheepish, apologetic. He shrugged and put a finger to his lips, signaling for me to hush. I’m sure now he knew what was coming.

“Master, is it?” The farmer gave a raspy malevolent chuckle. “Well, well, well aren’t ye an uppity little scrote. Such a pretty voice an’ all. Have your balls dropped yet, lad?”

The townsmen men standing around me shuffled on their feet and snickered uncomfortably. I could tell from the tentative laughter they were afraid of this man too. My chest tightened with fury, and I felt the flare of heat rush to color my cheeks. If in Thorn I would have put this fellow in his place, but as directed by the farmers’ handsome son, I held my tongue.

I dared to look up as the farmer scratched his grizzled chin and consider me. It was then I saw it. A chill iced my bones. On his chubby right index finger, he wore a gold ring set with a large red gemstone that I was aghast to see held the intaglio engraving of a rose thorn—my family’s seal. How had this disgusting Pasturelands farmer come upon my family’s ring? Anger curdled my gut, but I forced myself to focus and fixed my features so as not to alert the man to what I was looking at. That ring was more precious than I could say. It was not set with any common gemstone, oh no, the setting was Star-fall. The legend was that mortal tools could not cut the rich-red Star-fall stone. The gemstone was shaped by sorcery, and the power that carved into the gem was stored inside it as if the Star-fall was a reservoir for the magic. It was illegal for any other than the Twin Kings of Osia to own Star-fall. The king’s men had scoured the Empire to remove all traces of the priceless gem from common and aristocratic hands and possessing it was a death sentence. Did this ruffian have any idea what he wore?

Not getting a rise from me, the farmer stepped yet closer and found out for himself if my balls had dropped. He reached for my privates and squeezed.

“Ahh, ye got some big stones de’re al’right, boy,” he said with a filthy sneer.

“Done any labourin’ before, lad?” My eyes watered. I shook my head and winced as the pressure on my most sensitive parts rose. I wanted to shout and push him away, punch him in that bristly pug face. I’d trained in hand-to-hand combat and swordplay, but that was of little use to me now that I had no sword and was cast as naught but a commoner myself. I stood frozen to the spot with fear, my cock, and balls in the hand of this brutish man. I was sure that clutching my nethers was not the best way to test if I would be a good apple picker.

The farmer let go, stepped back, and looked me over again like he was sizing up a prize pig. I wanted to keel over, hold my sensitive parts and howl, but, with my eyes watering, I kept my back ramrod straight and looked past the farmer, using his son’s regretful, pretty green eyes as my focus.

I appeared to be a boy, but I am nineteen and about to make my majority. I have a tall, willowy frame, and little muscle to show for my near twenty summers. Weeks before, I was clothed in the silken garb of a lordling, but all I wore now were my stinky silk britches and a once-white linen shirt. I’d even had to sell my fine leather boots. My flaxen hair hung loosely to my shoulders and was bedraggled. My mother had always told me my hair shone like a golden halo. I guessed that was no longer the case. I had not seen my reflection in two weeks so I could only imagine how frightful I appeared to onlookers. My circumstance was terrible, but I refused to let it defeat me. I was a son of Thorn, I was a gentleman, damn it, and I was prepared to do whatever it took to do to find my way to my destination and seek justice for all the ill-luck that had befallen me.

“Right, scrote, up on the wagon,” the farmer declared. “We can always do wit a few extra scurrier’s fer the windfalls.”

I had no idea what that actually meant, but strangely relieved to be selected, I nodded subserviently and then, ducking my head to avoid the farmers’ glare, I scurried to the wagon where I surreptitiously gave my aching intimate parts a gentle rub.

I’d heard from a fellow in the tavern that harvesting wheat at Robinswood Farm was backbreaking, as was digging root vegetables at Windy Oakes Farm. He advised that apple picking was easy work and if I could get employment at Weatherby’s or Blackdown Farm, they paid good coin. He said the mistress at Blackdown was particularly well-liked and always gave laborers a bread and cheese luncheon with last season’s cider. I was so hungry that bread and cheese sounded like a banquet. The fellow had neglected to tell me that the farmer was a brute!

The farmers’ son met me by the wagon and offered to help me aboard. For a moment, from the look of consideration in his eyes, I thought he could see past the disheveled state of me to the gentleman I’d once been. But that was ridiculous. The farmers’ son hopped up onto the back of the wagon with dexterous athleticism, and then offered me his hands. I took them without a thought. His warm touch and the strength in those work-roughened fingers twisted my gut into uncomfortable knots. He fixed my gaze as he gripped both of my hands and tugged me up as easily as if he were lifting feather down. He pulled me closed and pressed me to his hard chest.

“Don’t back chat him or it’ll be the worst fer you,” he whispered the warning to my ear. Alarmed, I eased back from him and cautiously met his eye for a split second. In the look he gave me I saw that the warning was well-meant. Bewildered, I nodded in thanks and understanding. I had no idea why this stranger was looking out for me, but the fact he was warmed my heart. I choked back a tear. No one had looked out for me over these past weeks, and I had been so terribly lonely. I’d learned some hard life lessons on this leg of my journey, and I’d come to understand that here my title was irrelevant, and without money I was suddenly invisible; therefore small kindnesses meant more than I could say.

My adventure into the provinces had been made to appease my father for my supposed ‘lack of direction.’ I’d become bored with my easy life in Thorn, and not intending to marry; I’d told my father that in-light of my upcoming twentieth Bloomsday I wanted to tour the Empire. If I were to one-day become Duke of Thorn, I needed to know a little of the politics of each province and so, pleased with my initiative and happy to be rid of me for a while, he’d set me on my way. I’d toured the provinces of Terria, Corvay, and Reuss and then continued to the province of Osia, spending time in the capital city Altea, at the court of the Twin Kings, Kristoff, and Fabian Von Harte. With this journey to Erias, I was to have the full set of provinces under my belt. But fate was not on my side.

On benches affixed to either side of the farmers’ wagon sat fourteen men morosely staring at their bare, filthy feet, not a word of chatter between them. They each owned a small pack of belongings and a wrapped blanket that each had stowed beneath the bench. At this moment they were better-off than me, for I did not even have a blanket to my name. There was space for me and five more, totaling twenty men. The farmer chose from the remaining laborers with less consideration than I had been afforded.

“Right… I’ll take Allin, Jed, Arthur, Bartram, and Matty, that’ll do me fer the week,” he hollered decisively.

The week? I thought I’d promised myself for a hard day’s labor? But then again, I considered the harvesters who were sitting in the wagon, and yes, they appeared to have prepared for an overnight stay. Confused, I sat down as the other laborers were pulled up onto the wagon by their comrades, and then we shuffled along the benches until we were all seated. I noticed the shoulders of the remaining men in the market square sag a little in apparent relief as if some mighty weight had lifted from them. I didn’t understand it. I thought they’d wanted to work?

The farmers’ son clambered over into the front of the wagon. His father climbed on, the man’s bulk shaking the timbers of the rickety wagon as he settled on the bench beside him. The son handed his father the ribbons, which the farmer greedily snatched up, and then with a fearsome bellow of “Geddup” and a thunderous whip crack, the large mottled grey workhorse began its cumbersome trot down the main street and onto the dusty road to Blackdown Farm.

About the Author

Isobel Starling spent most of her twenty-year professional career making art in Ireland. She relocated to the UK and, faced with the dreaded artist’s creative block, Isobel started to write and found she loved writing more than making art.

Isobel is currently working on her nineteenth book.

“As You Wish” (Shatterproof Bond#1) narrated by Gary Furlong won the Audiobook Reviewer Award for Romance 2018. It is the first M/M Romance audiobook to win a mainstream audiobook award.

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Release Blitz for Saving Jax by L.M. Brown

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Saving Jax

Author: L.M. Brown

Publisher: Self-published

Cover Artist: Sheri McGathy

Genre/s: MM romance, sci-fi, ménage, MPreg

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 79 000 words/ 197 pages

It is a standalone story.

Release Date: December 1, 2018

Tagline

To save his unborn babies, he must put his trust in strangers.

Blurb

Jax has made mistakes in his life, the biggest of which was falling for Lyndon. His love died when Lyndon refused to claim him as his mate after Jax discovered he was pregnant. His feelings turned to hate when his babies were stolen from his care the day they were born.

Reliant on Lyndon for the cream he needs to survive, Jax does everything he can to keep him happy and he lives for the day when he will be reunited with his children.

When Jax discovers he is pregnant for a second time, he is terrified his second litter will be taken from him, too.

Ty is a dual-gendered feline who dreams of carrying his own babies one day. If they are fathered by Cal, the sexy feline he feeds from, it would be even better. Ty’s parents have other ideas. They don’t wish the public to know that their high-born son is dual-gendered, and arrange for a mating festival to take place so Ty can choose a dual-gendered mate of his own.

Although Ty has no intention of submitting to his parents’ wishes, something about Jax draws Ty to him and when he and Cal discover Jax’s secret, they know they must help.

Ty and Cal offer Jax a way to escape Lyndon’s clutches, but Jax knows almost nothing about the two felines who have offered to claim him.

The stakes have never been higher and Jax must learn to trust again, or risk losing everything.

Excerpt

Ty helped Jax into the boat, and once they were seated, Cal joined them and rowed them out to the middle of the lake.

“Privacy at last,” Cal said as he pulled in the oars. “Though you could have picked somewhere away from the water.”

Ty snorted. “And have Lyndon lingering around?”

“Perhaps not.”

Jax frowned. “Are you saying you deliberately ditched Lyndon?”

“We are,” Cal confirmed. “We wanted to talk to you privately.”

“You did?”

“Yes,” Ty said.

“What about? It’s my uncle you’d need to speak to if you wanted to claim me as your mate.”

Ty gave another snort, this one even louder than the first. “Don’t you get a say in the matter?”

Jax trailed his fingers in the water. “Not really.”

“Why not? It’s your life?” Cal said.

Jax sighed, but didn’t say anything. It hadn’t been his life for a long time, but how could these two felines possibly understand that?

Ty took hold of Jax’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Jax, we know you’re in some kind of trouble, but we can’t help you if we don’t know what the problem is?”

Jax finally looked at Ty and saw nothing but compassion in his amber eyes. “You should choose another mate, not me,” he whispered.

Cal slowly inched over from his seat and sat at Jax’s feet. “Ty will choose whoever he wants. Take it from someone who knows. Now, why don’t you tell us what the issue is with Lyndon?”

“There is no issue.”

“I disagree,” Cal argued. “I saw him fucking you in the garden earlier. Does your uncle know you’re not a virgin?”

The world swayed around him and Jax thought he might throw up. Then a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders, and he leaned into Ty, the strong steady heartbeat of the feline next to him helping to keep him calm.

“Yes, my uncle knows,” he whispered. “But he doesn’t know Lyndon is the one who has fucked me.”

“He doesn’t?” Cal asked.

Jax shook his head and toyed with the hem of his kilt. He shivered, even though he had put on his warmer cloak before they’d begun their walk. His uncle did know about Lyndon. He just refused to believe it.

“Tell us what happened,” Ty encouraged. “We want to help you.”

“Why?” Jax asked. “You don’t know me. I’m just a stranger who’s been paraded in front of you because I happen to have both female and male genitals.”

Cal took his hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “Because what I saw in your face when Lyndon walked away this afternoon was not the face of a feline in love with his devoted servant.”

Jax gave a bitter laugh that he quickly tried to suppress. “I haven’t been in love with Lyndon for a long time, if I ever was.”

“Your uncle seems to think a lot of him,” Ty commented.

“That’s because he doesn’t know the real Lyndon,” Jax replied. “If he knew what he was really like… oh, who am I fooling? He’ll never believe a bad word about him.”

“Why not?” Cal asked.

“Because Lyndon is my uncle’s primary food source, too,” Jax said.

“That’s no reason to believe him over his own nephew.”

Jax shrugged. “He won’t hear a thing said against him. Believe me, I learned that lesson the hard way.”

“Talk to us,” Ty urged.

Jax could tell he wasn’t going to get off this boat until he told them what they wanted to know. Perhaps he could give them an edited version they would accept.

About the Author

L.M. Brown is an English writer of gay romances and all male ménage romances.

She believes mermen live in the undiscovered areas of the ocean. She believes life exists on other planets. She believes in fairy tales, magic, and dreams.

Most of all, she believes in love.

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Book Blast – The M/M Romance Christmas Box Set by Isobel Starling

BOOK BLAST

Award-winning author Isobel Starling presents

The M/M Romance Christmas Box Set containing four funny, kinky seasonal romances

Book Title: The M/M Romance Christmas Box Set

Author: Isobel Starling

Publisher: Decent Fellows Press

Cover Artist: Isobel Starling

Genre/s: M/M Romance, comedy, puppy play

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 46,193 words/262 pages

This is two novellas and two short stories, all with a Christmas theme.

With the holidays approaching Isobel Starling presents

The M/M Romance Box Set

containing four delightfully humorous and kinky seasonal romances.

This box set is available as an e-book;

you can read it free in Kindle Unlimited

or listen to the exceptionally funny audiobook by award-winning narrator Gary Furlong.

The stories in the box set are:

Fred & Ginger
Chris Miller, a patisserie chef for Big Boy Cupcakes has to rush the last minute order of cock cupcakes for the party of a celebrity, but in his haste to deliver, he falls foul of an over-keen chocolate labrador named Fred, and his handsome owner…

The Christmas Bonus
The Investobank Christmas shindig at the Lorien Hotel puts Jake Walters, and the object of his lust in the same place at the same time… and it’s Christmas!

Daddy Christmas (Daddy Kink short story) NEW!
Ryan Sutherland, a side character from ‘Detective Fox and the Christmas Caper’ at last gets the happy ending he deserves.

Back Where He Belongs (M/M Puppy Play Novella)
Kier Campbell returns to Scotland from Australia to spend Christmas with his family. What he finds there is a gift that is worth more than money could buy.

Please note: These stories are gay romance stories and contain graphic depictions of sex.

The total word count is approximately 46k, the audiobook is just over 4 hours long. These stories have all the Christmas feels to give you a warm glow inside.

Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Audiobook

Listen to a sample here

Audible US

Audible UK

About the Author

Isobel Starling is an award-winning author of gay romance. Isobel spent most of her twenty-year professional career making art in Ireland. She relocated to the UK, and faced with the dreaded artist’s creative block, Isobel started to write and found she loved writing more than making art.

The Shatterproof Bond series is an Amazon Gay Romance bestseller and has been translated into French, German and Italian.

“As You Wish” (Shatterproof Bond #1), narrated by Gary Furlong, won the Audiobook Reviewer Award, Romance Category 2018. Isobel and Gary have produced ten audiobooks together, including whole Shatterproof Bond series.

Isobel will release the first book in her thrilling new fantasy series The Quiet Work in March 2019.

Please sign up to my newsletter here

Author Links

Twitter: @isobel_starling

Goodreads

Amazon Author Page

Decent Fellows Press

BOOK BLAST SCHEDULE

Release Blitz for Claw Marks & Card Games (Stallion Ridge #2) by Maz Maddox (excerpt)

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Claw Marks & Card Games (Stallion Ridge #2)

Author: Maz Maddox

Publisher: Self-Published

Cover Artist: Shaleah Poster

Genre/s: m/m romance, paranormal, western, action/adventure

Length: 74 000 words

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Release Date: October 1, 2018

Can be read as stand-alone story.

Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Blurb

Cooper Woodlock is a man who can’t seem to stay out of trouble. Between his gambling debt and being a widowed father, he can never seem to get Lady Luck back on his side.

Desperate for a winning hand, Cooper starts hitting saloons and tempting fate in order to keep the blood thirsty Spades at bay.

When a black clad gunslinger enters the game promising a slice of freedom, Cooper realizes all too late what he is actually playing for.

Excerpt

His cards were a sure thing. He was winning. He was about to double his winnings, and it was making his stomach dance, even as he kept his face schooled. This would ease the tension in his shoulders for a good month after tonight. The Spades would be off his back, and he could figure out his job situation. Hell, he’d even get Marybell some sweets to celebrate. His daughter deserved something nice.

This beautiful stranger not only saved his life, but was also about to make some of his troubles ease for a little while. As their cards were tossed onto the table and Cooper drank in the sight of each hand, a cold pit formed in his gut.

He had lost.

Everything.

All the winnings of the night were swallowed up by one goddamn game. Cold sank into his bones as the blood drained from his face, his eyes locked on Gunner’s winning spread. The man didn’t make a move to collect everything. Instead he sat back and pulled a rolled cigarette from his vest and put it between his teeth.

“Guess you were right about your luck,” he said casually, striking a match and lighting his cigarette. The flare of the fire close to his face made his green eyes seem to glow as he focused them on Cooper’s devastated face.

“Fuck,” Cooper whispered, putting his head in his hands, fisting some of his hair in heartbreak. He had been so damn close to getting some peace in his life, and he blew it all in one stupid game of chance. Hell, he had almost died for that pot, and now it was all gone.

Smoke curled around Gunner’s face as he exhaled some smoke from his lips. “Win it back.”

Cooper shook his head, pulling his glasses off to rub at his tired eyes. “I ain’t got it in me. Not after all this.” Cooper huffed. “My head’s turned inside out, and my stomach’s in knots.”

“You have a chance to not leave empty-handed.”

Cooper glanced up as Gunner reached into his pocket, taking out a stack of rolled bills and tossing it onto the table. If Cooper’s jaw was able to reach the floor, it would have bounced off his boots. That stack was probably hundreds of dollars. Hundreds. Something that would actually put a real dent in what he owed the Spades and give him and Marybell a slice of life back.

Working some saliva back into his cottonmouth, Cooper finally croaked, “I ain’t got that much to wager.”

“What else do you have to wager?” Gunner asked, pulling from his cigarette, his tone deceptively calm. Cooper narrowed his eyes and pulled his glasses back on, sitting up taller to not look so defeated.

“What are you asking me, exactly?”

About the Author

Maz is an m/m romance fanatic, dabbles in yaoi, adores dinosaurs and writes romance stories with a healthy heaping of adventure mixed in.

When she’s not pairing up Centaurs with bank robbers, she’s plotting new stories and sending inappropriate texts to her friends.

Author Links

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Twitter: @mazmaddox

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Kim Fielding on Story Settings and her new release ‘Blyd and Pearce’ (guest blog and giveaway)

Blyd and Pearce by Kim Fielding

Dreamspinner Press
Cover Art: Tiferet Design

Sales Links:

Dreamspinner Press

Amazon

Other booksellers

Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words is happy to have Kim Fielding here today talking about her latest story Blyd and Pearce.

♦︎

Hi! Kim Fielding here, and I’m so excited to be sharing my newest release—my 21^st novel!—with you. Blyd and Pearce is a fusion of some of my favorite genres: m/m romance, medieval fantasy, and noir private eye. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Today I’d like to talk about story settings—specifically, settings for noir stories. In case you’re unfamiliar with noir, here’s a quick definition from Merriam-Webster:

crime fiction featuring hard-boiled cynical characters and bleak sleazy settings

Notice how the setting is integral to the description? Some literary genres can take place nearly anywhere, but some, like noir and its cousin, gothic, almost require a very particular type of place. In the case of noir, that place is a city, preferably a large one, and the neighborhoods are not the ritzy ones. Noir characters live in seedy apartments and hang out in rough bars and dirty back alleys. Not only that, but most of the action takes place at night, with fog or cigarette smoke distorting the shadows and hiding secrets.

There are some notable exceptions to the urban setting requirement, such as one of my favorite films, Fargo. But in Fargo, those lovely shots of forlorn, snow-covered fields and parking lots serve the same purpose that the empty streets of nighttime Los Angeles do in other noir films: emphasizing the alienation and despair of the characters.

In films, noir has a signature cinematic style, drawing from expressionism, with lots of angles and odd perspectives that add to a sense of unease. The films are usually dark of course—that’s why they’re called noir (French for black or dark)—but they don’t necessarily have to be in black-and-white. Again, Fargo achieves an almost monochrome aspect by utilizing winter scenery in the North. Blade Runner uses claustrophobic buildings and constant rain.

In Blyd and Pearce, I’ve transplanted noir from modern American cities to Tangye, a city more typical of medieval fantasy. Tangye is preindustrial, and it’s also home to river wraiths, wizards, necromancers, and other characters we’d be unlikely to see in New York or LA. Yet it also retains many of the characteristics of typical noir settings. Daveth Blyd lives in the Low Quarter, the slums, where the inhabitants scrape out desperate livings and often drink (ale) or drug themselves (with trance drops) to dull their misery. Tangye has surly tavern-keepers, wily street waifs, and crooked cops. And of course it has our private-eye hero and the homme fatal who leads him into trouble.

Do you have a favorite noir setting? Please comment!

Blurb:

Born into poverty and orphaned young, Daveth Blyd had one chance for success when his fighting prowess earned him a place in the Tangye city guard—a place he lost to false accusations of theft. Now he scrapes out a living searching for wayward spouses and missing children. When a nobleman offers him a small fortune to find an entertainer who’s stolen a ring, Daveth takes the case.

While Jory Pearce may or may not be a thief, he certainly can’t be trusted. But, enchanted by Jory’s beauty and haunting voice, Daveth soon finds himself caught in the middle of a conspiracy. As he searches desperately for answers, he realizes that he’s also falling for Jory. The two men face river wraiths, assassins, a necromancer, and a talking head that could be Daveth’s salvation on their quest for the truth. But with everyone’s integrity in question and Death eager to dance, Daveth will need more than sorcery to survive.

Excerpt:

The narrow stairway rose steeply, each step creaking under our feet and taking us into increasing darkness. I smelled onions and fish—a bit strong, but better than my apartment’s odors—and blindly held on to the banister. It occurred to me that Pearce was in a good position to attack me, since I’d have trouble defending myself in the blackness of unfamiliar territory. But I wasn’t afraid of him. Maybe some of his enchantment lingered.

We climbed four flights to the top floor, where he unlocked another door. A few scattered spiritlights flared to life at once, but he lit two lanterns as well.

It wasn’t a large apartment, and the roof angled steeply on both sides so that he had to stoop a little when he hung his lute and midnight-colored cloak on a hook. Bright fabrics adorned the walls—silks and embroidered cottons—and a thick mat and pile of pillows were heaped in one corner. Rag rugs and pillows for seating covered the wide floorboards. The apartment held little else other than a dry sink, a few shelves, a little stand with a chamber pot, a painted wardrobe. But it was a cozy space, and two pottery vases of flowers squatted on the windowsill.

“Do you want some wine?” he asked.

It wasn’t what I expected, so I didn’t answer at once. “Uh, yes. Sure.”

He took a green glass bottle from the shelf, pulled the cork, and poured a red liquid into a pair of plain clay cups.

He was no longer wearing the gauzy silks he’d performed in, but his current outfit was hardly understated. Embroidered snakes—matching the bright blue of his chausses—trimmed a sunshine-hued tunic, and instead of sensible boots, he wore scarlet stockings and yellow slippers with curled, pointed toes. On another man, the clothing would have been gaudy, but it suited him well.

I remained near the closed door. With a tiny quirk to his lips, he prowled closer. He held out one cup of wine, which I took, and when I hesitated to drink, he took a dainty sip of his own. “It’s mediocre, I’m afraid.”

Not being able to distinguish good wine from bad, I swallowed a mouthful. It tasted fine to me.

“What shall I call you?” he purred, standing quite close. He was older than I’d thought, but the fine lines at the corners of his eyes didn’t make him any less beautiful.

“Daveth Blyd.”

“It’s a pleasure, Citizen Blyd.”

“I’m not a citizen.”

He tilted his head. “Oh?”

He wore a scent—something spicy and warm—that made my head swim. And his voice….

When I was newly signed on as a city guard, my duties had included carting my captain’s soiled uniforms to the laundry. It wasn’t one of my favored tasks. But she’d been a showy woman and had her capes trimmed not with dyed wool but with velvet. I’d rarely felt anything so soft, and I used to give the velvet surreptitious little pets as I carried her clothes.

Jory Pearce’s voice was like that velvet: soft and rich and plush. And, I reminded myself, expensive.

Giveaway!

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Kim Fielding is the bestselling author of numerous m/m romance novels, novellas, and short stories. Like Kim herself, her work is eclectic, spanning genres such as contemporary, fantasy, paranormal, and historical. Her stories are set in alternate worlds, in 15th century Bosnia, in modern-day Oregon. Her heroes are hipster architect werewolves, housekeepers, maimed giants, and conflicted graduate students. They’re usually flawed, they often encounter terrible obstacles, but they always find love.

After having migrated back and forth across the western two-thirds of the United States, Kim calls the boring part of California home. She lives there with her husband, her two daughters, and her day job as a university professor, but escapes as often as possible via car, train, plane, or boat. This may explain why her characters often seem to be in transit as well. She dreams of traveling and writing full-time.

Follow Kim:

Website: http://www.kfieldingwrites.com/

Facebook: http://facebook.com/KFieldingWrites

Twitter: @KFieldingWrites

Email: Kim@KFieldingWrites.com

Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bau3S9

AUDIO Blog Tour for The Eagle and the Fox (A Snowy Range Mystery) by Nya Rawlyns and Nick J. Russo (Narrator)

AUDIOBOOK REVIEW TOUR

Book Title: The Eagle and the Fox (A Snowy Range Mystery)

Author: Nya Rawlyns

Publisher: Jade Horse Publishing

Narrator: Nick J. Russo

Cover Artist: Dreams2Media

Genre/s: Contemporary western, M/M romance, romantic suspense

Length: 8 hours and 39 mins/274 pages/93300 words

It is a standalone story.

Blurb

Josiah Foxglove is given a second chance when he takes over his family’s spread in the shadow of the Snowy Range. A veteran of the Gulf War, he came back broken in body and spirit.

Marcus Colton buried his long-time lover and best friend three years ago. Lonely and still grieving, Marcus finds solace in protecting Petilune, a pretty girl with learning difficulties, who will surely become a victim of abuse and neglect without his help. But that doesn’t help him get through the long, dark nights.

When violence wracks the small community of Centurion, WY, it’s easy to place blame on Petilune’s mysterious new boyfriend, Ojibwe teen Kit Golden Eagle. It looks open and shut, but for Josiah and Marcus the facts simply don’t add up.

Something’s rotten in Centurion, something that smacks of a hate crime…

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About the Author

Nya Rawlyns writes a variety of genres – suspense/mystery, contemporary western, romance, romantic comedy, women’s fiction, literary fiction and contemporary young adult fantasy.

A lifelong equestrienne, she has competed in dressage and distance riding. She lives in rural Pennsylvania with her daughter, horses, cats, and the hens from hell. She has a family of friends and supporters who provide not just inspiration but absolute belief in her characters and stories.

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Release Blitz for Expecting (Pine Wood Falls #1) by Sarah Havan (excerpt)

RELEASE BLITZ AND REVIEW TOUR

Book Title: Expecting (Pine Wood Falls #1)

Author: Sarah Havan

Publisher: Self-Published

Cover Artist: Melissa Liban

Genre/s: m/m romance, non-shifter Mpreg romance, secret omegaverse

Length: 65,000 words/262 pages

Release Date: June 21, 2018

It’s the start of a series but can be read as a standalone.

Goodreads

Blurb

Conrad Mayfair is finally becoming comfortable in his own skin, so he wants to tell his best friend Mason that he’s gay and in love with him. He can’t seem to get the words out, though. But soon the flirting starts, followed by a weekend of marathon sex, and the shocking news a few months later that Conrad is going to be a father.

Something’s going on with nineteen-year-old Mason Donnelly. He seems to be developing breasts, has felt sick for months, and is constantly tired. After a doctor’s appointment to try to figure things out, his life flips upside down. He learns not only is he intersex, but he’s also pregnant, a condition only made possible because Mason is an omega and Conrad is his alpha.

Conrad and Mason are introduced to a new way of life they knew nothing about. While Conrad is willing to jump in and accept it, Mason isn’t so sure. Together, they have to decide if it’s a life they truly want.

Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Excerpt

Mason

“Do I see stubble?” my best friend Conrad asked. He lay on his bed with his hands behind his head, shirtless, his abs on display for all of their six-pack glory. Images of me running my tongue over them flashed through my head.

I rubbed the side of my jaw. “You sure do. At the age of nineteen, I’m finally becoming a real man.”

“Dude, you’ve been a man. Just a hairless one. Are you still hairless everywhere else?” He smiled and sat up, crossing his legs.

“God, Conrad.” I turned around in my desk chair and folded my arms over my chest, pretending I didn’t want to share the information. He knew I’d cave and tell him, happened that way every time.

“Well?”

“If you must know, no.” I glanced over my shoulder at him.

“Chest hair?” he grinned and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs and clasping his hands.

I spun around to face him and shook my head.

“Ah, down there.”

“Okay, we need to stop talking about this and that hair has been there for a couple years now.”

“You’re my best friend. We should be able to talk about everything.”

“Some things, I don’t want to talk about.” I turned back toward my desk, trying to complete my assignment for the class I had later in the day. I loved taking a fiction writing course, but I didn’t like when we had to write papers analyzing books we had read in class, thus me still working on my paper.

“It’s not like you’re the only one who’s had delayed puberty.” Those words, how I loathed them.

“I swear to God I’m going to punch you,” I said over my shoulder.

“All right, sorry. I know it’s a touchy subject for you.”

“And yet, you decided to have a conversation about it.”

“Just curious.”

I sighed and turned back toward Conrad. “But now, I feel ready to, you know.”

“Have sex?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

I shrugged. “Well, yeah.”

“Because you grew some facial hair?” Conrad rubbed his palm over his jaw which caused my cock to stir in my pants. I had fallen in love with him years ago, and my feelings for him lately had gotten a lot stronger.

“Maybe it’ll make me look older, more rugged, more desirable.” Because I was a sophomore in college and still looked like I belonged in high school.

“If you’re going to be with someone, they should want to be with you no matter what you look like.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re six-foot-four and have been all manly since you were like thirteen. I’m five-foot-five, incapable of building my pecs. Instead I have perky nubbins. Like what the heck is that about? And my Adam’s apple isn’t even all that visible. All of that doesn’t scream sex appeal,” I said, looking over at Conrad who screamed of sex appeal. Besides his gorgeous body, he had the perfect shade of medium brown hair that he kept short with his bangs a bit longer which he always styled up. Hair I had wanted to run my fingers through so many times before. And his smile, a bit mischievous but always so genuinely happy.

About the Author

Sarah Havan grew up in the Midwest and still actually lives there. She has an appreciation for having all four seasons. She writes all kinds of romance, but most recently has focused on gay romance in her writing.

Social Media Links

Twitter

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