Category Archives: Book Spotlight

SPOTLIGHT: The Liars Beneath by Heather Van Fleet #YoungAdult #thriller @HLVanFleet @RRBookTours1 #RRBookTours #Books #BookTwitter

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TheLairsBeneath copy

Congratulations to author Heather Van Fleet on the release of The Liars Beneath! Read on for more info.

The Liars Beneath

Genre: Upper YA Thriller/Mystery w/ Romantic Elements

Publication Date: January 27th, 2022

Publisher: WiseWolf Books

TW: Mentions of Sexual Assault, coercion, drug use, drinking, suicide.

After a tragic accident ends her best friend’s life, 17-year-old Becca Thompson succumbs to grief the only way she knows how: by wallowing in it. She’s a fragment of the person she once was—far too broken to enjoy the summer before her senior year. But when Ben McCain, her best friend’s older brother, returns home, Becca must face her new reality head on.

She isn’t interested in Ben’s games, especially since he abandoned his sister during the months leading up to her death. But when he begs for her help in uncovering the truth about what really happened the night of his sister’s death, Becca finds herself agreeing, hoping to clear up rumors swirling in the wake of her best friend’s accident.

An unhinged ex-boyfriend, secret bucket lists, and garage parties in the place Becca calls home soon lead her to the answers she’s so desperate to unveil. But nobody is being honest, not even Ben. And the closer Becca gets to the truth—and to Ben—the more danger seems to surround her.

Clearing her best friend’s name was all she wanted to do, but Becca is quickly realizing that the truth she craves might be uglier than the lies her best friend kept.

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Excerpt

July

Present Day

Splinters tear at the undersides of my nails when I squeeze the church pew ahead of me. The raw skin burns, but I welcome the pain, needing it to distract me from the ache in my chest.

In front of me sits an old man who’s scratching at his comb-over toupee. The side falls down past his right ear, leading way to the baldness beneath. I huff, irritated because I can’t see the front of the church around his oversized head…not that I want to. Not when I know what’s there.

Her coffin.

Her face.

The results of my biggest mistake.

“And now a reading from the book of Ecclesiastes, chapter three, verses one through eight.” The minister clears his throat, talking nonsense Rose would’ve laughed at.

Instead of listening, I relax under Dad’s arm, while Mom clings to my right hand. Settled and sheltered, I shut my eyes, welcoming the darkness. It promises peace, an almost believable sense that this isn’t happening.

In a world away from grief, I’m with my best friend again—the echo of her voice whispering promises of forever in my ear. We climb trees, fish with my father early in the mornings on his boat, then spend our afternoons swimming in the river alcove off Colton Road.

Our space, our world, she tells me.

Yes. Always, I smile and say.

“…and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up…”

I clutch Mom’s hand even tighter, bottom lip trembling. The minister tries to pull me back in, but I won’t let him. Not now.

Slipping back into my memories, I inhale the smoke from summer bonfires, taste the s’more goop dripping from between my lips, listen to Rose’s laughter while she watches me shove four marshmallows into my mouth at the same time.

Away from the church, in the dark, non-lonely recess of my mind, mud squishes beneath my boots with every step we take along the dam near my house. Rose teases me for being scared of falling into the water, her blue eyes filled with mirth.

With the setting sun at her back and a hand over my forehead blocking the glaring light, I watch her long-limbed body teeter close to the edge, balanced on one foot like a ballerina. As always, she’s completely fearless.

But then the rush of water drifts closer, her lips part in a silent scream, and I gasp…

More tears fill my eyes when they pop back open, and my recollections become nightmares with the snap of a twig beneath my feet, though I wasn’t there the night she died.

The sole source of Rose’s end was the exact same thing I feared falling into for so long. Irony is cruel.

Two weeks ago, I was finishing up the first of my college applications, readying for senior year. Now I’m preparing for a future knowing Rose would be by my side every step of the way.

We were best friends. Like sisters even. Joined at the hip since the age of ten, living the dream of two girls eager to become women. Rose was the other half to my whole. Together, we could have accomplished anything.

If only she hadn’t been so stupid.

If only she was still alive.

I shiver, letting go of Mom’s hand to wrap my arm over my stomach. The muscles harden beneath, and agony builds a bomb inside.

Don’t cry, Becca. Don’t you dare.

“You okay, sunshine?” Dad whispers, no doubt sensing my mood.

No, I want to say. I’m dying inside. But that’s not what comes out.

“Uh-huh.”

Without bravery, I’ll fall apart.

My gaze wanders the congregation, searching for familiar faces. Those who loved Rose, those who might have hated her too.

Sienna’s the first person I see. She’s a girl I know from school, someone I hung out with at lunch if Rose wasn’t there. A friend to me, a barely passable acquaintance to Rose. Her exposed cheek is blotchy and red, stained with tears I’m surprised she’s shedding.

Beside her sits her on-again, off-again boyfriend, Alex. His arm is draped around her shoulders and his head is tipped back, brown eyes half-lidded as he looks to the ceiling. He’s either high or sleeping. Either option wouldn’t surprise me

I look away, catching sight of a few nosy townspeople, some distant relatives of Rose’s I barely know too. Overall, though, I don’t see many familiar faces. Not Adam, her best guy friend. Not even Travis—though my ex not showing up doesn’t surprise me. I think he hated Rose more than she hated him.

“And finally, I’d like to leave you with a few words from Rose’s older brother, Ben,” the minister finishes.

My lips part with shock. I move forward in the pew, my father’s arm falling away. I can’t believe he’s actually here.

My best friend talked nonstop about Ben; hero-worshipped him even, despite the fact that he constantly ignored her. His achievements were her achievements. The awards he won, the trophies he earned playing football too. Rose treated her older brother like a king. A saint, really, who could do no wrong.

But then Mr. Perfect went away to college and turned his back on Rose and everyone else who loved him. That’s when everything changed.

Now Available

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About the Author

Heather Van Fleet is a Midwestern-born author with a love of all things spontaneous road trips, TV shows that leave her questioning her morals, and book boyfriends. As a graduate of Black Hawk College, Heather took her degree in early childhood development, tossed it into the garbage, and is now living the dream writing books sprinkled with suspense and lots of kissing.

She’s currently living out her own version of a happily ever after with her high-school-sweetheart-turned-husband, their three hugely feminist daughters, and two fur babies with bad attitudes. When she’s not being a mom or writing books, you can find her drinking way too many energy drinks or crashing out on her sofa with a romance novel of some sort.

Heather Van Fleet | Twitter | Instagram

Facebook | TikTok | BookBub | Goodreads

Book Tour Schedule

January 27th

R&R Book Tours (Kick-Off) http://rrbooktours.com

Reads & Reels (Spotlight) http://readsandreels.com

Dark Whimsical Art (Spotlight) https://www.darkwhimsicalart.com/blogs/news

@beautynherbooks (Review) https://www.instagram.com/beautynherbooks/

Didi Oviatt (Spotlight) https://didioviatt.wordpress.com

Scarlett Readz & Runz (Spotlight) https://scarlettreadzandrunz.com/

January 28th

The Haunting Hours (Review) https://thehauntinghours.wordpress.com/

@read_betweenthecovers (Review) https://www.instagram.com/read_betweenthecovers/

@bookloverleah (Review) https://www.instagram.com/bookloverleah/

B is for Book Review (Spotlight) https://bforbookreview.wordpress.com

January 29th

Books + Coffee = Happiness (Spotlight) https://bookscoffeehappiness.com/

@ofmoviesandbooks (Review) https://www.instagram.com/ofmoviesandbooks/

@2manybooks2littletime (Review) https://www.instagram.com/2manybooks2littletime/

January 30th

@authorpjmarie (Review) https://www.instagram.com/authorpjmarie/

@bhaneereads_(Review) https://www.instagram.com/bhaneereads_/

Nesie’s Place (Spotlight) https://nesiesplace.wordpress.com

January 31st

@betweenthesheets.books (Review) https://www.instagram.com/betweenthesheets.books/

@bookish_elise (Review) https://www.instagram.com/bookish_elise/

Jessica Belmont (Review) https://jessicabelmont.com/

@gryffindorbookishnerd (Review) https://www.instagram.com/gryffindorbookishnerd/

Book Tour Organized By:

R&R Book Tours

SPOTLIGHT: Independence Fatigue by Emily Carrington #LGBTQ #contemporaryromance @CarringtonEmily

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Being a Dom isn’t working for Peter Campbell. He really craves the release of being a submissive, but he’s confused about the sub’s role. He is also struggling with a much larger issue.

Dr. Abe knows there’s something bothering his lover, but he doesn’t know how to work through their difficulties when Peter won’t talk to him. Convinced it’s their bed play that has Peter out of sorts, Abe is determined to fix whatever’s wrong. What will happen when the doctor discovers there’s something bigger than their problems in the bedroom?

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2022 Emily Carrington

They were looking at a safe, secure website for BDSM and Peter felt his stomach clench a little more as he read through the “For Beginners” menu. It covered things like “Doms VS subs,” “Safe words,” and “The sub is Actually in Charge.”

In his experience, that last wasn’t true. Abe gave over all control when Peter played dominant.

It was the idea of being submissive that turned Peter on. But they’d accepted their roles, right? And it said here while a dominant could and should train as a sub first, a true submissive couldn’t be a permanent dom.

For Peter, that was certainly the case. Every time he had to pretend to be dominant, his heart pounded in his chest, and he feared he would hurt Abe accidentally.

And besides all that, he loved the idea of being tied up and spanked. Not by just anyone, either, but by his beautiful, perfect lover.

He’d wanted that once before, to be submissive in the bedroom. Maybe that was one reason his marriage to Megan had gone so badly four years ago. He’d wanted to be dominated in bed and she’d said, “I’m no one’s mistress. A mistress is someone you pay to do things like that.” He hadn’t brought it up again.

But now, could he have a second chance?

Abe touched Peter’s knee and Peter jumped, startled. He loved being touched but he’d been so wrapped up… He shook his head to clear it and met his beloved’s dark, nearly black, eyes. And as often happened when he’d been living in the past too much, he was freshly amazed and aroused by Abe’s delicately precise Japanese features. Abe, pronounced Ah-bay after the Japanese poet and playwright, Kobo Abe, was Japanese American. He had extensive family out west, a sister down south, and a niece at the school for the deaf where Peter taught. Abe was a veterinarian. He kept his hair short because, he said, he didn’t want to mess with it on a day when he’d have to go into surgery. He loved healing animals and that took precedence over what he called “wavy locks” as he tugged playfully on Peter’s shoulder-length brownish-blond hair.

Abe took his hand off Peter’s knee so he could use American Sign Language to communicate. “What are you thinking?”

Lying didn’t jive with the honest relationship they’d always had, but Peter didn’t want to admit his sub tendencies. So, he confessed another truth. “I hate it when I start thinking about Megan, even if it’s only for a moment,” he signed back.

Abe frowned. It was adorable. “What brought that on?”

“Can we talk about it later?”

Abe reached out and shut off the computer. “Yes,” he signed. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Peter wasn’t entirely sure he hid his feelings of tension as he nodded and stood.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender erotica. Seeking a world made of equality, she created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires. Find her on Facebook at Shapeshifter Central or on her website.

Fantasy creatures not your thing? Emily has also created a contemporary romance world, called Sticks and Stones, where she explores being “different” in a small town. Visit her on Facebook at Emily Carrington’s Confessions!

SPOTLIGHT: Haints Alive by J. Hali Steele #Erotica #LGBTQ #DarkFantasy @JHaliSteele

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An angry, dead spirit is useless – until it becomes the living Haint in your bed!

Warning: This is a Razor’s Edge Monster Erotica Story. Expect limited plot and character development, and lots of paranormal heat. If you’re looking for a lengthy plot driven erotic romance, this is not it!

JD Tolliver begins research for his thesis on paranormal phenomena as a nonbeliever. He believes now. A ghost or angry spirit, a true haint, follows JD from Appalachia. His finding a suitable body so he can leave poses a problem — $it has JD by the balls@!

Coll Collins spent over a hundred years locked in silence. Suddenly freed, he discovers that gay hate crimes are not a thing of the past. The stranger he attaches himself to is sassy and, to Coll, sexy as hell. Never had the pleasure of a soft young man, and Coll plans to take advantage every single night until he returns home.

Preorder at Amazon

Releases January 28, 2022

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

J. Hali Steele wishes she could grow fur, wings, or fangs, so she can stay warm, fly, or just plain bite the crap out of… Well, she can’t do those things but she wishes she could!

Multi-published and Amazon bestselling author of Romance in Paranormal, Fantasy, and Contemporary worlds which include ReligErotica and LGBTQ stories where humans, vampyres, shapeshifters and angels collide-they collide a lot! When J. Hali’s not writing or reading, she can be found snuggled in front of the TV with a cat in her lap, and a cup of coffee.

Growl and roar — it’s okay to let the beast out. — J. Hali Steele

SPOTLIGHT: Jimmy (Summon a Bad Boy 1) by Megan Slayer #UrbanFantasy #agegap #PNR @MeganSlayer

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I call on the fates to bring my love to me. As I will it, so mote it be…

What if those simple words plus a name on a scroll could guarantee true love? Karey’s determined to find out if the spell, Summon a Bad Boy, works, and she knows just who she’s going to ask for. Jimmy McCreadie. The tattooed man makes her weak in the knees — he’s every naughty desire she’s had come to life. She’s nothing like the women he dates, and far too shy for her own good, but she’s not giving up.

Mix a bad boy with some magic and have faith. Anything’s possible. Karey’s desire just might come true.

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2022 Megan Slayer

“I’m tired of being single.” Karey folded her arms. She’d met with her friends at the same cafe every Thursday evening for the last year, and every time they complained about their collective troubles with men. None of the five had a boyfriend, and not for a lack of trying.

Karey couldn’t help her crippling shyness. The moment a handsome man started talking to her, she clammed up. Part of her brain understood the man was simply talking to her, but the rest of her couldn’t understand how a good-looking guy would want to be seen with her.

She’d been told she was mousy and boring her entire life. If she’d get her nose out of her books and understood how to use makeup, she’d be better looking. Makeup confounded her, and she’d never been good at using hair styling tools. A simple ponytail worked for her.

“Well, what do we do?” Natalie asked. “We’ve tried the clubs.”

“Bust,” Mandy said. “So were the bars.”

“Double bust,” Nikki added. “I want a bad boy, but not one that will do me harm. Those guys looked scary — not in a good way.”

“Agreed.” Sarah thumped her spoon on the table. “And I have a suggestion.”

Karey sat up straighter and paid more attention. Instead of their normal grumbling, someone had a plan? Good. “What is it?”

Karey admired her friends. Nikki was the sexy one. She could walk into any establishment and have men falling at her feet. They seemed to love her tall, slender appearance and deep brown eyes. Then there was Mandy. She embodied sweet-natured and cute. At just over five feet tall, Mandy was the sprite of the group. She laughed easily and smiled a lot. Natalie could be moody, but she knew how to play nearly any sport — and usually better than her male counterparts. Karey loved cheering her on at the local baseball games. Sarah was the born leader and the pushiest of the five. Her intelligence could be a hindrance or an asset, depending on how she used it. Most people saw her as pushy, but she could organize and plan like no other.

Karey sometimes wondered how she fit in with these fantastic women. She was smart, but not hyper intelligent. She loved books and observing but tended not to talk much.

“The plan?” Natalie checked her watch. “I’m late for a game.”

“Tonight, we meet at my place. I’ve found a spell that guarantees we’ll find our perfect man within the next seven days.” Sarah smiled and narrowed her eyes in triumph. “All we have to do is write down exactly what we want on a scroll, say the words of the spell, and toss the scroll into the fire. What do you think?”

“It’s guaranteed to work?” Karey didn’t believe it.

“Really?” Mandy toyed with her water glass. “You’ve had can’t-miss plans before that were duds.”

“I know, but this one is really guaranteed.” Sarah nodded. “If you’re in, be at my house at nine. I’ll have the scrolls ready.”

“You’re sure this works?” Karey asked again. “You don’t seem to have all the details.”

“Hey, where I found it says it’s foolproof.” Sarah shrugged and toyed with her scroll. “I might not have all the details, but it’s just a spell. For all we know, it won’t work. Do we really need every last piece of minutia? No.”

“Right.” Karey sighed. What did she have to lose? She lived alone, didn’t go out much, and only met people at the store. If a spell could work, then why not give it a try? If nothing else, she’d have an adventure.

Right?

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to LGBTQ and white hot themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been nominated at the LRC for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best Ménage, Best BDSM and Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on various e-tailer sites.

When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library.

SPOTLIGHT: They Called Him Marvin by Roger Stark #historicalfiction #historicalromance @author_RStark @RRBookTours1 #RRBookTours 

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Welcome to the tour for Roger Stark’s historical fiction, They Called Him Marvin. Read on for more details and a chance to win a signed edition of the book!

They Called Him Marvin: A History of Love, War and Family

Publication Date: June 14th, 2021

Genre: Historical Fiction/ Historical Romance/ Based on True Events

Young lovers trying be be a family, but duty called, interrupting them.
He answered. She, with child was left behind.
The war did end, but he never returned.

“They Called Him Marvin” is a history. A history of war and of family. A history of the collision of the raging politics of a global war, young love, patriotism, sacred family commitments, duty and the horrors and tragedies, the catastrophe that war is.

A reviewer explains: “I am a fan of historical fiction and this story did not disappoint. It was sweet, tragic, personal, and moving. Gradually and almost imperceptibly, the story of two wartime sweethearts begins circling the drain of a tragedy you know is coming. The book begins with the ending, but by the time you get there you have convinced yourself that it can’t possibly be the case. I enjoyed every moment, even the ones that left me in tears.”

The letters between Connie and Dean provided a fascinating glimpse into wartime life. Reading the experiences of people both at home and abroad was very engaging. I found myself eagerly awaiting the next letter, right along with the young couple!

Lastly, the book left me with an overwhelming acknowledgement of the universal trauma and tragedy of war. The Shermans are not the only family we meet in the book and the weaving together of several different narratives added a depth to the story that’s hard to put into words.

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Excerpt

18 January 1941, The Story Begins

Stanley Carter started all this.

… I want to help you with your problem of not knowing any one in Salt Lake. Tomorrow I am going to my girlfriends house, come with me, she would love to meet you and then you will know two people here.” Dean answered, “I could be talked into that.”

“We are going to meet up at church and then go to her house.”

By the end of church the following day, Dean would actually know three people from Salt Lake City. This because Stan’s girlfriend, Carol Woffinden, happened to be the best friend of Constance Avilla Baldwin, who also just happened to attend the same Waterloo Ward of the Mormon Church, who also didn’t have a boy friend, and who was also more than happy to make a visitor feel welcome.

Dean innocently walked into all of this.

Mormons have a special interest in non Mormons, or Gentiles as they call them. You see, a Mormon is never far from, or without, his missionary zeal. If you’re not a Mormon and your going to hang out with a Mormon for very long, you’re going to get zealed. For Dean Harold Sherman, it was to be a life altering dose of zealing.

Dean and Connie exchanged 67 letters (50 written by Dean) the night (unbeknownst to him) that his son Marvin was born Dean wrote:

18 February 1945

Good Evening Peaches:

Hello sweet girl, I sure have been thinking of you lots these days and wishing so much that I could be around to take care of you, and be holding your nice soft hands and giving you lots of moral support, and see your pretty face and look in your eyes and without saying a word, tell you millions of wonderful things that you mean to me. You do too, Honey, mean so many wonderful things to me. All the wonderful things a beautiful girl can be and my best companion ever along with being the sweetest wife any guy ever could love. Those are just a few of the things, Darling, which make me love you more every day…

Goodnight Peach Blossom,

Dean

On the day Dean was shot down Connie Wrote:

14 May 1945

My most wonderful man,

I’m in a rather odd mood tonight Honey, and it is most all about you and Marvin and me. I have been trying to decide whether or not I would write to you tonight most all evening. I wanted to, but I didn’t know if I could express my feelings as I would want to, and, as I feel them. As you can see Honey, I have made up my mind to try. How well I succeed remains to be seen…

Then I was thinking of Marvin and wondering just what his talents are going to be. To have a Daddy such as you, Honey, he will be kind and good, even as you are, a wonderful man. Honey, I’m really just beginning to realize what a great responsibility we have in teaching and caring for Marvin. We just have to do it to the very best of our ability. I know you have lots of ability, Honey, and I hope I have…

I have a hard time, the past seems like such a thrilling dream of love and happiness. I wonder if it all really happened, but then I know it did. And Oh! Honey how I do love you now and forever and ever ever after with all my heart and soul. Honey I just can’t express how deep my love for you is. Its an impossibility. I love you always.

Good night my husband,

Peaches

Xxxxxxxxxx

10 December 1944, The Same Damn Movie

… In Puerto Rico the crew was quite happy to watch the new release The Lady Takes a Chance starring John Wayne and Jean Arthur. Coincidently when they reached British Guiana the same movie was featured. Not to be deterred the crew again enjoyed the film. When they got to Brazil and it was again the featured picture show, some murmuring occurred. The Corporalies, were feeling cheated.

When they found the movie would be playing at their fourth stop also they complained to Dean.

“Sir, ain’t the Army got any other movies?”

“We know the lines better than the actors.”

“We know John Wayne is going to eat the lamb chops because Jean Arthur cooked them for him even tho he is a beef man.”

“Maybe there will be something new at our next stop,” was the consolation Dean offered. After crossing the Atlantic The Corporalies showed signs of giving up on the movies.

But in KhartoumThe Corporalies forced into the NCO Club by the searing heat and therefore ‘forced‘ to drink cold beer all day had a terrible yearning, near evening, for a movie.

“Howell, go see what’s playing at the movies tonight.” ordered his fellow Corporalies.

By virtue of being the youngest Howell was often the brunt of such requests especially after three or four beers. He had given up protesting that he was the same rank as them. In fact as the Central Gunner, he was in charge of the other gunners in combat, but as the youngest of four boys at home he felt a strange comfort in re-playing the role with his combat brothers.

“And damn it, don’t come back if it is The Lady Takes a Chance.”

Of course he discovered that The Lady was indeed tonight’s special feature. On the way back to the NCO Club with the sad news that John Wayne was again eating those lamb chops even here on the edge of the Nile Rivers, he met his Airplane Commander.

“Sir, they are playing that same damn movie here, oh sorry sir, that same John Wayne movie is playing here. We are sick of it, Sir, ain’t the Army got any other movies?”

“Evan, the reason that movie shows up everywhere we go, is that we have been tasked with delivering it to our final destination while allowing each layover airfield to use it.”

Howell stared at his Airplane Commander as his cognitive impaired brain tried to process. The light finally came on for him, a bit dim, but it came on. “Oh, Sir, I see Sir, I’ll tell the boys.”

And off he wandered, not in the direction of the boys, but in the direction of his bunk, taking his comrades threat to not return with bad news seriously.

Available Here and on Amazon!

About the Author

I am, by my own admission, a reluctant writer. But there are stories that demand to to be told. When we hear them, we must pick up our pen, lest we forget, and the stories be lost.

Six years ago, in a quiet conversation with my friend Marvin, I learned the tragic story his father, a WW2 B-29 Airplane Commander, shot down over Nagoya, Japan just months before the end of the war.

Bill Clinton has famously said: “They were the fathers we never knew, the uncles we never met, the friends who never returned, the heroes we can never repay. They gave us our world. And those simple sounds of freedom we hear today are their voices speaking to us across the years.”

Such a man was Marv’s father. A father he never knew. The telling of the story that evening by this half orphan was so moving and full of emotion, it compelled me to ask if I could write the story. The result being “They Called Him Marvin.”

My life has been profoundly touched in so many ways by being part of documenting this sacred story. I pray that we never forget, as a people, the depth of sacrifice that was made by ordinary people like Marvin and his father and mother on our behalf.

My career as an addiction counsellor (CDP) led me to write “The Waterfall Concept; A Blueprint for Addiction Recovery,” and co-author “Reclaiming Your Addicted Brain.”

After my counselling retirement, I decided I wanted to learn more about the craft of writing and started attending classes at Portland Oregon’s Attic Institute. What I learned is that there are an amazing number of great writers in my area, and they were willing to help others improve their skills. I am grateful to many of them.

My next project is already underway, a memoir of growing in SW Washington called “Life on a Sorta Farm.” My wife of 49 years, Susan and I still live in that area.

We raised seven children and have eleven grandchildren. We love to travel and see the sites and cultures of the world. I still get on my bicycle whenever I can.

They Called Him Marvin

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SPOTLIGHT: Damned If You Do by Lisabet Sarai #BDSM #paranormalromance @LisabetSarai

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Damned If You Do: A BDSM Dance with the Devil

By Lisabet Sarai

Paranormal BDSM erotic romance (Five flames)

Approximately 29,000 words

HEA ending

ISBN: 9781005020088

ASIN: B09PSN7XGX

ABOUT THE BOOK

Wendy Dennison is tired of being a starving author. The royalties from her critically acclaimed romance novels barely pay her bills. Her devoted agent Daniel Rochester may be smart and sexy, but he can’t get her the sales she needs. Then a charismatic stranger appears at her coffee shop table, promising her fame and commercial success, as well as the chance to live out her dreams of erotic submission. But at what cost?

Nothing you can’t afford to lose, my dear.

Seduced by the enigmatic Mister B, she signs his infernal contract. He becomes both her Master and her coach, managing her suddenly flourishing career as well as encouraging her lusts. Under her mentor’s nefarious influence, she surrenders to temptation and has sex with Daniel. The casual encounter turns serious when she discovers her mild mannered agent has a dominant side. As the clock ticks down to her blockbuster release and Mister B prepares to claim her soul, Wendy must choose either celebrity and wealth, or obscurity and true love. 

GET IT HERE:

Kinky Literature: https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/713-damned-if-you-do/

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09PSN7XGX

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09PSN7XGX

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/damned-if-you-do-lisabet-sarai/1126292735?ean=2940165738319

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1124531

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/damned-if-you-do-12

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35009284-damned-if-you-do

Buy Links (Audio)

Narrated by Audrey Lusk

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Damned-If-You-Do/dp/B078NC1MGN/

Audible: https://www.audible.com/pd/Erotica-Sexuality/Damned-If-You-Do-Audiobook/B078NC27YX/

EXCERPT

The limo deposited her in front of her little house and floated away. A bit weary from the lengthy ordeal at the salon, Wendy almost tripped over the figure sitting on her front steps.

“Dan! What are you doing here?”

Her agent looked rumpled and haggard. He didn’t even bother to stand, though his eyes were hungry as he surveyed her.

“You don’t answer my calls. You ignore my emails. I figured the only way I could get through to you was to show up at your door.”

“Emails? I haven’t heard from you in months! I figured you were mad at me…”

 “Every day, Wendy. I’ve sent you a message every single day. I’ve called again and again. That damned personal assistant of yours answers every time.” He rose to his feet finally, looking around with a scowl. “Where is the bastard, anyway?”

“I—um—I’m not sure. I think he’s doing some errands.” She rummaged in her bag for her key. “Come inside. We’ll talk.”

“No. You come with me.” He grabbed her sleeve, pulling her down the walkway toward a gray Taurus with a Steelers Rent-a-Car decal parked across the street. “You’ve got to get away from that guy. He’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous? What are you talking about? He’s been great for my career.”

Dan grabbed her shoulders and shook her, hard. “Wake up, Wendy! He’s got you under some kind of spell. You’ve become a totally different person.”

She tore herself free. “Yeah, I have. Instead of being a loser, I’m finally a successful author.”

“You’ve cut yourself off from everyone. I got an email from Jenna the other day. You do remember Jenna, right?  Your old friend Jenna Martin? She was worried. Said she hadn’t been able to get in touch for weeks.”

Jenna. How odd. Wendy hadn’t even thought about her, not since that afternoon in the coffee shop when her crit partner sent the link about Sapphire Sands. The afternoon Mister B had come into her life. In the old days, they communicated nearly every day.

“I’ve been busy. Busy writing.”

“Is that all you’ve been doing? That slimy character Bent loves to suggest you two have been involved in other activities…” 

She tried to take his arm. He shook her off. “Please, Dan, calm down. I’m fine. I’ve finally found my writing groove. Everything is going great.” She flashed him what she hoped was a charming smile. “I’m going to be on the Breakfast in America show later this week.”

“I wondered why you were all gussied up.” His bitter tone made her wince.

 “You should be happy for me. After all, I’m making plenty of money for you, too!”

“Forget about money for once. What about feelings?” He grabbed her with both hands, pulled her close and held her tight against his body.

ABOUT LISABET SARAI

LISABET SARAI occasionally tackles other genres, but BDSM will always be her first love. Every one of her nine novels includes some element of power exchange, while her D/s short stories range from mildly kinky to intensely perverse.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (https://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, Bookbub and Twitter. Join her VIP email list and get a free ebook, plus exclusive contents and other benefits: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

SPOTLIGHT: My Dragon, My Dom by Dulce Dennison #LGBTQ #holidayromance

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Officer Corbin Richters has gone through more partners than he can count. They all claim he’s difficult to work with, but he knows better. They’re scared being gay might be something they can catch. Idiots. When he’s assigned yet another partner, his inner dragon perks up and takes notice. Josh is different from anyone he’s ever met. Unfortunately, he’s also human.

When the two are tasked with getting Christmas trees for families in need, they never count on growing close. The more time Corbin spends with Josh, the more certain he becomes the man is his mate.

Get it at Changeling Press

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Dulce Dennison

Corbin Richters watched the sexy-as-hell man walking through the door of the precinct, his blue uniform fitted snugly to his shoulders and chest, silver badge gleaming under the fluorescent lights, his stride powerful and purposeful as he approached Captain Meeker. The dark hair on his head stood out in disarray but it was artfully done, the waves beckoning to be touched in an intimate caress. His eyes looked green from this distance, and they took everything in with a swift assessment that said he was ready for whatever danger that might be lurking within the precinct walls. Whoever he was, he wasn’t a rookie. No one got that hard-edged look, the look of a predator, the first day on the job.

Corbin’s heart kicked in his chest and his hands clenched on top of the desk. What he wouldn’t give to peel away that uniform and see what lay beneath the crisp, blue material. He unconsciously licked his lips as he thought about trailing kisses along those broad shoulders. Corbin’s skin heated and his cock twitched in his pants. He felt his scales ripple under his skin and fought for control. Hell, here he was fantasizing over the man, and he wasn’t even sure if the cop was into men or women. Or both. It had been a long time since he’d had such a reaction to someone on first sight, and he wanted to explore the feelings a bit more.

“Damn.” He sneaked a quick glance around. Had he said that out loud?

Corbin watched as the officer shook hands with the captain and then as Captain Meeker pointed at Corbin. Why on earth was the captain sending Mr. Sexy his way? Not that he was going to complain! Still, he had to admit to being curious. What did the man’s voice sound like? Would he offer to shake hands? Would that small contact arouse Corbin’s dragon even more? The beast was already more than a little intrigued.

The object of his desire strode across the room with panther-like grace, his movements fluid and beautiful, and stopped at the edge of Corbin’s desk. The officer flashed him a smile, one that had his dragon — lusty beast — perking up considerably, and held out his hand.

Corbin stood and shook it, an electrical current shooting up his arm, swirling down through his chest, and settling in his balls, making them draw up tight. His cock gave another jerk, but if the officer noticed — and something told Corbin that he had — he wasn’t commenting on it. Corbin had thought the man would pack a punch, but it still took him by surprise, this visceral reaction. He couldn’t remember the last time his dragon and he had been in total agreement on their choice of bed partners.

The man’s voice was crisp and clipped as he introduced himself. “Josh Myers.”

“Corbin Richters.” Corbin released Josh’s hand reluctantly before he did something stupid, like jerk him closer for a different sort of embrace. As it was, he wanted to bury his nose against the man’s neck and inhale that incredible scent that was teasing him.

“It seems I’m your new partner,” Josh said.

Partner? Corbin shot the captain a look. No one had said anything about a new partner. Corbin had only been part of the Blueberry Hill Police Department for a little over a month, having been lucky enough to land the job within a week of hitting town. And yet he’d already gone through two partners. The men had claimed Corbin was too rough and rude, but he knew the truth. They didn’t care that he was black. They hadn’t wanted to work with a gay officer. Probably afraid it would rub off on them or some stupid shit like that.

“I take it this is news to you,” Josh said, that gorgeous smile flirting around his lips again. Lips that looked full and soft, the kind of lips a man could kiss forever.

Corbin cleared his throat, hoping to get better control of himself. “Yeah, I hadn’t heard that I was getting a new partner today.” He met Josh’s gaze. “But I’m glad you’re here.” Too direct?

Josh’s smile broadened and there was something in his eyes, a warmth that told Corbin his advances might be welcome. He supposed time would tell. It was possible the guy was just being friendly and he was reading into things.

Corbin pointed to the desk butting up to his. “That will be your space. There should be some supplies in the drawer, but if not, we can ask the receptionist on our way out.”

“Hitting the streets early?”

“I thought we’d swing by Espress Yourself and grab some coffee. There’s no charge to officers for a regular brewed cup, and they usually have a few different flavors going. You have to pay for those fancy drinks though.”

Josh smiled again. “Sounds good. I can check out the desk when we get back.”

“The black SUV near the back is ours.”

Josh scanned him from head to toe. “I’m guessing your size has something to do with us getting the biggest vehicle. What are you? Six foot four?”

Corbin grinned. “Six-six.” Not that Josh was short. He had to be at least six-two.
They strolled out of the rear precinct door and headed to the SUV. Corbin popped the locks with the key fob and slid in.

“So…” Josh glanced his way as he snapped his seatbelt into place. “Your place or mine?”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Dulce Dennison is a pen name for gay and LGBTQA+ themed love stories from best selling MC romance author Harley Wylde, AKA award-winning science fiction/paranormal romance author Jessica Coulter Smith. From cowboys to shapeshifters, Dulce/Harley/Jess believes in love in all shapes and sizes, and that everyone deserves a happily-ever-after.

SPOTLIGHT: Silent Knight/Sleepless Knight by Gale Stanley #LGBTQ #holidayromance @GaleStanley

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Silent Knight: Paul Stanton thought he had it all — until his lover dumped him for another man, forcing Paul to rethink his life. But when a trip home for the holidays goes predictably wrong, Paul ends up stranded in the woods. There’s more to Andy Reynolds than meets the eye. But is a chance encounter enough to bind two men who have nothing in common except their sex?

Sleepless Knight: When the two-year itch infects their relationship, Andy arranges a much needed vacation. Andy will do anything to make Paul happy, even if it means bringing another man into their bed. But is a threesome really the answer? Or will it drive them further apart?

Publisher’s Note: Silent Knight, Sleepless Knight (Duet) contains the previously published novellas Silent Knight and Sleepless Knight.

Get it at Changeling Press

EXCERPT

Copyright ©2017 Gale Stanley
Excerpt from Silent Knight

Andy moved through the woods in a slow stalk. Nothing beat hunting in the snow. Most Keystone State hunters called it quits by late December, but Andy was a hardheaded optimist. Besides, he enjoyed the solitude, and dealing with winter’s stark elements provided an extra challenge. There were other pluses as well. Even a novice hunter could follow the deer tracks, and the light wind dispersed Andy’s scent and covered any sounds he made.

But the wind picked up, blowing the snow sideways. Deer tended to lay low during high winds. It looked like this hunt would end with no game. Good thing these hunting trips weren’t all about the kill. Andy hunted for food, but mostly to get out, and be a part of nature. The experience took him back to a happy time when his parents were still alive. He and his dad spent a lot of time in the woods. No TV, no cars, no other people, just the two of them hanging out and having a good time. Half the time they came home empty handed, but it didn’t matter. Andy’s mom would welcome them home with a good, hot meal.

God, he missed them. At least they’d died together. A car accident. Never knew what hit them, according to the coroner. Andy had come home to bury them a year ago and never left.

Snow on an overhanging branch dropped white bombs on Andy’s head. He brushed it off, and looked around. No animal life disturbed the spectacular view. No sound, except for the howling wind. He felt insignificant in these surroundings, yet more alive than he did in the city.

Andy packed up his gear and started backtracking toward his ATV. The wind blasted him and drove him off his path a few times, but finally the gusts eased and the ATV appeared in his sights. It occurred to him he might have to leave it, but old reliable started right up. Andy nosed it around and got back on the road, recognizable because it was the only stretch clear of trees. Mishaps were more common in the winter, but the white stuff didn’t intimidate Andy. He knew these backwoods like the —

Andy swerved to the left to avoid the man in his path. The ATV slammed into a car, and Andy catapulted feet over head. One second he was behind the wheel, the next he was flying through the air. Andy landed face down in a snow covered hill of pinecones that cushioned his touchdown. Everything happened so fast. For a few scary seconds he couldn’t breathe, then someone grabbed him and rolled him over.

Before Andy could react, a hand gripped his chin and tilted his head backward. An ear covered his mouth.

“What the fuck!” Andy cried out. He opened his eyes just as the other man jerked his head back. When Andy’s blurry vision cleared, he saw a pair of worried eyes staring down at him. Snowflakes drifted around the stranger’s head, and stuck to his long dark lashes. The sound of the wind faded into the background, and the silent snowy woods provided a surreal backdrop behind the green-eyed stranger. Andy sucked in a frosty breath. In the midst of the chilling temperatures, heat sparked in his groin.

“Are you okay?”

The voice brought Andy back to reality. “No thanks to you.”

Andy attempted to get up, but Green-eyes gripped his arms and held him down. “Don’t move, you might have broken something.”

“Don’t even try playing white knight. This is your fault, asshole.”

Green-eyes backed off and held his hands up in surrender.

Andy struggled to a sitting position and glared at the other man. “I’m fucking freezing, and you want me to lay here.”

“Sss-sorry.”

Andy stared at the man’s stuttering lips. They were blue. The color didn’t go well with his eyes. Oh hell! His white knight was in worse shape than he was. “Gimme a hand,” Andy barked. “We need to get outta this storm before we both freeze.”

* * *

The snow-covered man winced as Paul hauled him up. Only an inch or two taller than Paul, he appeared a lot bigger in his thickly padded hunting jacket. A thick beard hid most of the man’s face. Paul hoped like hell the hunter wasn’t another former classmate.

“Fuck!” The hunter pulled his hand from Paul’s grip and rubbed his right hip.

A twinge of guilt pierced Paul’s gut, but he kept his mouth shut. This man had made it plain he didn’t want Paul’s help.

“Just bruised,” the hunter said. “Could have been worse. I could have been killed. Or killed you.”

“Look, I sss-aid I was sss-sorry –“

“Forget it. What are you doing out here?”

It was too cold for a conversation. Paul gave him the short version. “Paul Stanton, home for the holidays. I just had a close encounter with a tree. That was my rental car you hit.” He clenched his mouth shut to stop his teeth from chattering.

“Andy Reynolds.” Andy waved at the vehicles. “Looks like we’re walking. My cabin’s not far.”

Paul’s chest tightened as he watched Andy walk off. Do I really want to go home with this big redneck? Andy Reynolds already hated him. The name didn’t ring any bells, but so what? Reynolds looked like every other homophobic asshole in this town. Paul shivered and tucked his frozen hands under his armpits.

Andy looked back. “You coming?”

If I stay out here, I’ll freeze to death. Paul started walking.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Gale Stanley grew up in Philadelphia PA. She was the kid who always had her nose in a book, her head in the clouds, and her hands on a pad and pencil.

Some things never change.

Preorder: Sidetracked (Q for Quarantine) by Lauren Alsten #RomCom #ContemporaryRomance #BDSM @laurenalsten @changelingpress

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Sidetracked (Q for Quarantine) by Lauren Alsten
Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Angela Knight
Genres: Romantic Comedy, Suspense, BDSM,
Contemporary Romance, Second Chance Romance
 
 

Librarian Allison Callahan, aka “Encyclopedia Allie,” has always loved her steadfast and dependable best friend, Dane. She’s just never admitted it to anyone, including herself. But Dane keeps trying to kiss her, and it’s changing their relationship status from friend-zone to danger-zone. Sure, Allie wants more, but what if Dane finds out she likes her hanky panky with a side of spanky?

He’ll freak, that’s what. So she rebuffs his advances, tries to shake things up… and unbeknownst to him, discovers one of his best-kept secrets.

Meanwhile, Dane is so frustrated he fantasizes about taking Allie over his lap. A good spanking would serve her right for refusing to acknowledge what they both already know: they’re perfect for each other. But he’s so busy trying to make partner at his law firm, he doesn’t notice something’s a bit off about his bestie.

Between the shock of the secret she never knew and her lukewarm launching of the library’s virtual book club, Allie’s ready to let loose. At her and Dane’s high school reunion, it’s clear they’re ready to take the next step, but after a red-hot night of lust and love, will the next morning’s Walk of Shame ruin everything?

 

Preorder for December 31, 2021

Available December 24, 2021 at Changeling Press

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021Lauren Alsten
 

Allie

Back when I was a kid, the library held a solemn mystique, a haven away from the mayhem of everyday life, the shrillness of school and a noisy neighborhood. The zigzaggy avocado-green carpet would always make me dizzy on the way to the card catalog, but I loved all the neat, half-handwritten, half-typed index cards. These days, no cards remain, except for a few relics memorialized in framed prints on the walls in stacks. The old pine cabinets have been retrofitted into mock-vintage PC terminals, where you can still search non-fiction’s trusty Dewey decimal system. Fiction titles are arranged much like a bookstore, and while the comfy green reader chairs now sit ten feet apart per regulations, the kids still move them. It’s no use scolding; nobody listens.

Following two rounds of quarantine, everyone is all too happy to get out and mingle, only now they mingle louder to compensate for their masks. Enforcing the face covering rule is hard enough, but keeping the noise level to a dull roar is an exercise in futility. I head back to my desk, irritated and defeated, recalling simpler times, when this institution was used for research instead of a social hangout.

Yes, I, Allison Callahan, the normally quiet, studious, and ultra-organized librarian… am cranky.

The past year’s been tough. Instead of slacking off and burying my nose in a book all day, I’m back at work patrolling the main floor. I’d much rather be devouring the latest release in my current genre obsession — erotic romance, which I nicknamed the Filthies. My e-reader contains over 200 of them, and my large roster of book boyfriends has taught me a few very important things. Mainly, that I’m a secret horndog with a preference for heavy-handed men.

I secretly lust after all the Filthies’ ass-slapping alphas. And… my real-life alpha best friend, Dane. He’s the man I’ve known for twenty years, the same man who, ever since he was involved in a minor accident a few months ago, has tried to kiss me every chance he gets. I don’t let him. It’s not because I don’t want to, or even because I don’t want to jeopardize our friendship (which I don’t), but because I’m…

… the biggest chickenshit on the planet. My Mom and my sister Tara would scold me for swearing, but really, chickenpoop just doesn’t have the same ring to it.

Now, between being unable to read and frustrated at having to learn video conferencing technology, my workday seems like it’s lasted forever. Dane texts the minute my shift ends, promising me dinner and a movie if I help him pack for his upcoming move. I drive over, kicking my pinchy shoes off as soon as I enter his bedroom. If he’s surprised, he hides it well. I hardly ever cross the threshold from the enormous living room into his private suite. He turns his imposing six-foot-two self toward me and smiles a little too big.

“Hey there, AllieKat. Take a seat. Just a few more boxes, and then we can watch Girl on the Train, okay? Pepperoni pizza is on the way, I got you a huge bag of kettlecorn, and there’s pumpkin pie for dessert.”

“What girl on which train? And triple yes on the ‘za, corn and pie.”

He opens his mouth to explain his movie choice, but I just laugh and flop backwards on the bed. It’s convenient when your bestie understands your serious sweet tooth. His bedroom isn’t so risky tonight since my sister and his brother are home. Tara and Jared have been playing house for over a month, trying to integrate her two cats and their new puppy, Bentley, who’s a holy terror. Bentley finally learned not to mess with the felines, but now he’s taken to stealing things and leading everyone on a mad chase around the house. Within five minutes of my arrival, he’s already stolen a potholder, the roll of packing tape, and a pair of Tara’s leather boots.

My usual propriety takes a backseat as I recline on Dane’s bed, his cool comforter sliding beneath my hands. I stare up at the ceiling, cross my bird-like legs and ponder how to mention the reunion without ticking him off. He already knows something’s up, though. Usually, I say no to Dane during the week; we’re both too busy. But he needs help packing, and I need to convince him our ten-year hybrid-virtual reunion this Saturday will be fun. After a year and a half of social miss-tancing and another four-month delay because two other venues cancelled, I need to hang out with old friends, in person. Safely, just not alone.

I’m still wary of running into Thomas Hyde. He was a no-show at our five-year and hasn’t RSVPed to this one yet. Thomas was our movie-star quarterback, the only boy who asked me to my senior prom. When he picked me up for the dance, he told me I was beautiful. Later, swaying to an angsty ballad, he whispered, “No man is ever going to want to date you, Allie Callie,” right before he abandoned me on the dance floor.

Was he a jerk? Absolutely. But his words wormed their way into my psyche: a man can tell you that you’re beautiful in one breath and dump you the next. Since then, I’ve had scant few dating offers (four, if I count one disastrous blind date) and even fewer boyfriends (two who couldn’t deal with my having a boy BFF).

My track record with men in general is sketchy, and with Dane specifically, it’s abysmal. One visit to his frat house at Harvard proved we weren’t meant to be. My teenage crush on Criss Angel came in handy, because nobody suspected I faked throwing back four shots. Only the fifth one was real, and I gagged. Malört is evil. I started acting tipsy, figuring it was now or never. I sat next to Dane, tried to French kiss him, and when that didn’t work, went for broke, pitching face-first into his crotch. Told him I wanted to lick his Danesicle. Disgusted, he picked me up and put me to bed — alone. I left him a note in the wee hours (claiming Malört Memory of the prior night’s events) and slunk back home to die a private death of mortification.

I used to think I was a prude, but after that, I knew Dane is the most sexually conservative person I’ve ever met. Even the word sex makes him cough and sputter. Tara’s extremely open, I’m more the “keep it under wraps,” type, and Dane — well, even his current bedroom furniture is prudish and perfunctory. Square, plain. Mission-style. As in “missionary.”

For now, I drag my mind out of the gutter and prop myself up with a pillow. Watching him sort and pack soothes me, his biceps flexing under the weight of heavy law books he’s dumping into random boxes. The sight of his corded forearms, the biceps hiding inside his tight Henley, the curve of his muscular thighs filling out his jeans. All these things turn me on, but tonight my heart races because I really need to sell Dane on the reunion thing. I don’t want to play the loner librarian, especially if Thomas shows. Overthinking is my specialty, so I swallow the lump of reticence to cue up my rehearsed Reunion Ruse. By the looks of it, I’m not the only one about to take a chance.

Dane is going to try to kiss me again. He always angles for a peck, usually on the cheek, and he’s predictable as ever: his face gets this dopey, hopeful expression, followed by the twitch of his left eyelid. It’s kind of cute, considering.

Mr. Twitchy would freak if he knew how sexually conservative I’m not. To him, I’m still Encyclopedia Allie, strait-laced, straight-A and headed straight for 2.25 kids in a white picket fence suburbia. Dane would never look at me the same again knowing I have less-than-vanilla preferences, and while I don’t think spanking is that strange, he would. People who color outside the lines, like my sister, make him uncomfortable. If he knew my preferences, he’d run. And if he did? I’d die.

So Dane trying to kiss me? Not going to happen. I love him too much as a friend. To him, I’m a nice, vanilla girl, and I want to stay that way, even if it means one day seeing him with someone else.

I still fantasize about him taking me over his lap and whipping my ass to a cherry red, though. I just keep that freaky little fantasy to myself.

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

When she’s not obsessing over her latest characters and dreaming up meet-cutes for future books, Lauren Alsten loves photographing wildlife while hiking under a warm sun and bright blue skies. Her writing journey began with A-list movie star fan fiction, but these days she prefers penning humorous tales of emotional upheaval served with a side of snark. She currently lives with two ungrateful cats who never lift a paw to help around the house.
 
Find Laura Online: Website | Facebook | Instagram | Twitter 
 
 

 

 


PREORDER: Atlas’ World by Darlene Tallman #mcromance #suspense @darzee_t

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Atlas’ World: A Poseidon’s Warriors MC Novel – Book 5
By: Darlene Tallman
Photographer: JW Photography
Cover Model: Theodore Brown
Cover by: Tracie Douglas of Dark Water Covers
Release Date: 12/31/21

Beck ‘Atlas’ Crandall is a combat veteran, just like the majority of his club brothers that started Poseidon’s Warriors MC. A trained medic, it was his responsibility to head into missions in an effort to hopefully rescue those involved. Sadly, most ended up being recovery situations instead, which started causing him extreme mental duress. However, the last mission they were on, the one that had them all leaving once their time was up, pretty much sent him down a dark, twisted path. He’s awakened more times than he cares to admit sitting inside his closet, back against the wall, with his gun in hand. Only, he refuses to allow his brothers to find him like that, so when Poseidon mentions the possibility of him getting a service dog to help him on the rougher days, he practically leaps at the chance. He’ll try anything to appear normal once again, instead of a broken-down, former Navy SEAL who now helps run the club’s auto and bike shop.

He doesn’t expect her to worm her way into his life, but after several years of watching her during events and parties at the club, he notices that she’s spiralling and realizes that he might be able to help. That’s all he intended to do, but Fate had other plans.


Patsy Maddox, lifelong best friend to CeeCee Morgan O’Rourke, has grown used to being around the bikers. She’s never kept any secrets from CeeCee. Until now. How can she reveal her deep, dark secret about that terrible night without further losing her slight grasp on her sanity. Instead, an old issue that she thought she was long past dealing with, rears its ugly head once again. Now, she has her BFF as well as a broody, quiet biker on her to spill her guts. The only thing is, if she does, will everyone look at her differently? That’s her biggest fear—being thought of as less than. Too bad she’s got herself convinced that she’s already there.


*Suitable for ages 18+ due to adult subject matter and language*


Link: https://books2read.com/u/4NxkaW

EXCERPT

I wake suddenly, my heart pounding as the remnants of my constant nightmare linger like onions do after they’ve been cooked. “Fuck,” I mutter to myself. After all these years, I had hoped that they would dissipate but instead, they’ve only gotten worse. I’m lucky to get two to three hours of sleep these days and unfortunately, it shows. Poseidon talked to me recently about possibly getting a service dog but I don’t know how much one would help at this point. Not only that, but I can barely keep myself alive some days, how the hell would I be able to take care of another living being? Stumbling out of my bed, I see that it’s a little after two in the morning. I already know from past nights that I won’t be able to go back to sleep, so I head into my ensuite. I grimace when I see myself in the mirror. This time, I managed to blacken my own eye for fuck’s sake. Sighing, I start the shower then strip out of my boxers before stepping inside.

As the water sluices over my exhausted body, I groan out loud. There are some days when I wonder why I keep waking up, why I don’t end it all. My brothers’ faces swim in my head reminding me that there’s no fucking way I’d want them to find me like that. No sense in fucking any of them up as badly as I am, that’s for sure. I have to do something, though, because I can’t keep going like this, half-ass dead all day long, pushing myself to work as hard as possible so that memories don’t paralyze me. It’s only in the dark, when my exhausted body falls into a restless slumber that those ghosts come out to play.

Once I’m done with my shower, I wrap a towel around my waist then peer into the mirror as I shave. It’s far too early to head to the shop, so after slipping on some clean clothes, I sit down at my computer desk then boot up my laptop. 

Time to do some research on service dogs. May as well since I don’t think Poseidon is going to let up until I agree with him. It’s not often I disagree; he was our commanding officer after all and I readily followed him into missions without a second’s hesitation. I’m just not sure why I don’t feel the same way now. I know I’ve got PTSD, at least that’s what I was diagnosed with at the military hospital. Tried the stupid medications they gave me but gave them up because I couldn’t handle feeling like I was walking through life in a foggy haze. Granted, I probably should’ve talked to the shrink they sent me to and asked if there were other medications available, but my childhood memories of my parents laying around, drunk or high, kept me from doing so. 

They’ve made advancements, I’m sure, I just haven’t had the guts to go back. Which is mind-blowing in so many ways because I’ve faced death more times than I care to think about, yet the thought of taking my ass into a doctor’s office and saying I need help practically drops me to my knees.

It couldn’t hurt, Beck, my mind whispers as I scroll various websites to see which one I want to read first.

Several hours later, when the sun is peeking through my blinds, I lean back and stretch to loosen the kinks in my neck and shoulders. I’ve watched multiple videos of trained dogs with their owners, seen how they respond to various stimuli, and how the owners are able to better function in their daily activities. Some even reported that they now slept, their dogs keeping the ghosts at bay. Armed with several printouts, I grab my cut then slide it on, prepared to talk to my president the next time I see him.

Looks like I’m going to get a dog.