BOOK REVIEW: Building a Family by M.L. Uberti #contemporaryromance #agegap @MLUberti_writer

Jamie knows to Daniel she’s just the babysitter for his brother’s children. She’s too young, too inexperienced, too shy for him. But she feels safe when she’s with him, and she wishes they could have more.

Daniel knows he’s too old, too rough, and far too wary for a beautiful young woman like Jamie. She should run away from him and what he wants and needs from her.

Unless they’re both wrong.

Available at Changeling Press

MY REVIEW – 5 stars!

Tension. Angst. And an alpha-hole… Get ready to one-click this bad boy!

I’ll admit there were times — okay, A LOT of times — I wanted to bash Daniel over the head. He was so busy trying to run from his feelings, he didn’t stop to consider how his actions destroyed Jamie each and every time.

Jamie was sweet, loving, and a little too angelic – except when it came to Daniel. She couldn’t resist him, and the two of them nearly set the sheets on fire! But Jamie wants more than steamy nights with Daniel.

So. Much. Drama. But in an awesome way. Building a Family will make you scream, make you cry, and most importantly, it will make you beg for more. Two thumbs up… Five stars… And zero rotten tomatoes for this delightful read.

*Disclaimer: I received an ARC in exchange for an honest review.

Sideswiped by Lauren Alsten #RomCom #agegap @LaurenAlsten

How many times will Tara swipe right before realizing her perfect lover is already in her bed?

Jared might be stuck in an unfulfilling job, but he knows what he wants to be doing. He also knows who he wants to be with — Tara, a.k.a. The Goth Girl Next Door he’s fantasized about for years. He’s not bothered by their age difference, but everyone else seems to be. Tara thinks he’s just a plaything, his brother thinks she’s a witch, and his parents think she’s trouble.

Jared thinks she’s perfect.

Tara loves her job as a sex streamer, but since quarantine, she’s tired of flying solo. Then she teams up with her zygote of a neighbor, and her tips soar. So does her pleasure, yet she keeps swiping, searching for a mature, responsible LTR-worthy man.

Jared’s convinced he’s everything she needs, but can they keep their relationship hot without their passion self-destructing?

Get it at Changeling Press

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Lauren Alsten

“I offer people who are bored with their lives new ways of dealing with situations. You know, encourage them to explore their options. Around the house. Decorating, and… stuff.” She plucks out some threads, tossing them on the floor before smoothing her hands down her thighs.

I stroke my chin in mock contemplation, but instead of making me look wise, it pushes my mask up my nose and into my eyes. I bump it back down and stifle the nervous urge to cough. “How does one manage one’s lifestyle situations, exactly?” Now that we’re conversing instead of eyeing each other up, I hold the advantage. Visually, she owns me, because while I look at her, my mind turns to mush. However, verbal repartee is my strong suit.

Her so-called Lifestyle Management Blog is a front. I know this; she knows this. But she doesn’t know I know. I mean, what twenty-one-year-old guy gives a shit about lifestyle management? The blog we’re pretending to talk about does exist, but she only posts on it once or twice a month. Her real moneymaker is most likely her live sex stream and blog, where she directs, and acts out, scandalous sexual encounters. Of course, there are lots of costumes and masks involved. She’s never revealed too much of her face. Other things, I have intimate knowledge of. I clutch the pillow tighter.

The reason I know about her blogs at all is because of remote office hours. In between researching company stock histories, I fuck around on social media. My brother posted something on Facebook about his law firm’s company picnic, and Allie had liked it. Out of curiosity, I clicked on her profile, thinking she’d lead me to Tara.

Allie’s page was filled with books, and her friends list didn’t include her sister. I scrolled through two years of library news and craft shit until I hit paydirt: a photo of both sisters, captioned We may be different, but we both love our jobs! P.S. Mine’s temporary!

The women held up their arms. Tara’s wrist sported a slightly red, brand new tattoo while Allie’s sparkled with a butterfly decal. They were tagged at Tats-n-Sticks Tattoo & Body Mod Shop just inside the city. I clicked the link. Tara wasn’t in many photos, but Pages Liked by This Page included one called Downright Dirty.

Now, I’ve researched a lot of porn sites — how else is a guy supposed to learn? — but the cover image of Downright Dirty drew me in immediately. It featured a masked woman, her red-streaked, black hair framing her face as she towered over a bound man spread-eagle on a bed. Something about the tilt of her head, the curve of her shoulder… and a bright red cherry tattoo on her right shoulder blade. I zoomed in to confirm it was the same one I’d seen years ago during her bike-washing bonanza. Tara working at a tat shop that liked an X-rated page whose owner sported the exact same tat? Not a coincidence.

Downright Dirty streams live three days a week. Solo, or with a partner, she and her chat audience would compose the stories, which she’d complete a few days later and sell along with high-res images for 10 a pop. I’d read a few before I started chafing. The site also sold glossy stills of her in high heels, leather, pleather, latex, vinyl, whips, chains, clamps, other assorted goodies, you name it. Her blog’s been active for over ten years with an archive of video shorts. For two weeks, I’d watched her shows and tipped her outrageously, although I had a hard time watching her with other men. With normal porn and stream sites, a lot of the women looked fake and none of their orgasms seemed real. Tara looked like she really enjoyed it.

This is all past tense because I no longer watch at all. She isn’t some hot, naked rando anymore. She has a name, and since I wanted to meet her for real, it feels… wrong to watch.

“Let’s not pretend you’re interested in interior decorating or color palettes. What have you been up to lately?”

I won’t cop to scouring the Wall Street Journal every morning, so instead I admit, “Working, remotely, like most people. Slacking off a bit.”

She tilts her head a familiar angle. “Slacking off how?”

“I used to doomscroll. Now I bingestream.”

“Seen anything interesting?”

For a split second, I consider coming clean and answering, “You.” Then she squeezes my forearm. I swallow hard. My memory fills in the parts of her face I can’t see. I wonder if she’s wearing her usual bold red, purple, or black lipstick.

Schitt’s Creek. Parks and Recreation, Catastrophe. Buffy –”

Fuck. That last one just slipped.

She sits up straighter. “You watch Buffy the freaking Vampire Slayer?”

Schitt’s Creek is fucking genius. And Parks is hyster –”

“Buffy. The freaking. Vampire. Slayer. Own it, Jared.”

I throw my hands up. “Fine. Owned. Sarah Michelle rocks my world. Honestly, it really was a good show.”

What I can see of her face lights up. “You’re right. It was. You know, when I was a teenager.”

Something in her eyes stops me from joking about how long ago that was. While I haven’t dated tons of women, the ones I have were several years older, and you don’t have to be a genius to know joking about their age is a surefire ticket to Schitt’s Creek, without the paddle or the humor.

She turns wistful. “I had a major crush on Angel.”

“I always thought he was kind of a tool –”

“You’re crazy. He was hot.”

I’d just seen him on a Buffy twenty-year reunion cast interview. But I suffer a momentary lapse in my own judgment. “What’s he now, like, fifty-something?”

Her eyebrow lifts. “No clue. How old are you, now? Eighteen-something?”

Ouch. A lesser man would cave. But I am a smart-ass adult.

“I turn twenty-one midnight, tonight. Fully legal at last.”

I’m met with a zombie stare. Zero words. My palms start to sweat as she withdraws her hand, and her attention. Reclining against the couch back, she drapes her arm across her forehead, and sighs.

Before she loses any more interest, I take yet another risk. “I’m throwing a little get-together tonight if you and your sister want to come party with us. I mean, not too many people. Just, you know, a few friends. We have a deck in case people want to hang outside after the game. It’ll be huge. I mean, the hockey game. Blackhawks vs Predators. Actually, the deck is big, too. And there will be, you know, free beer. Liquor. We catered a lot of food. Lasagna, brisket, gourmet sandwiches and tons of other… stuff.”

Jesus Christ, I’m babbling like a twenty-something idiot.

I rub my hands together, contemplating a quick exit. The silence between us turns uncomfortable, but I can’t stand up quite yet.

“A big deck, and… stuff,” she purrs. “Sounds like fun.”

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.

Cover Reveal: Fox (Hades Abyss MC) by Harley Wylde #contemporaryromance #agegap @HarleyW_Writer

・゚: * COVER REVEAL * :・゚

Fox (Hades Abyss MC)

Coming August 20, 2021

Published by Changeling Press

Cover Art by Bryan Keller

#bikerromance #agegap #actionadventure #darkromance

Add to Goodreads 👇

https://bit.ly/3kvQVzK

Raven — I learned the hard way not to trust anyone. First the men who’d hurt me, and then my mother when she’d turned her back on me. I had no one. Was it any wonder I didn’t think I had a reason to keep living? A good Samaritan had other ideas, landing me in a psychiatric hospital. Too bad the guards were every bit as evil as those men I’d trusted.

I thought I’d die alone. Unwanted. Unloved. Forgotten. Until the Hades Abyss MC came to take me away. They claim my father sent them, except I’ve never met him. Don’t even know his name. I’d try to run, but what’s the point? Besides, there’s one man who makes me feel safe. Fox. It doesn’t matter that he’s older than me. When he holds me, I know nothing will ever hurt me again. I just didn’t count on losing my heart to him.

Fox — Breaker brought Hatchet’s daughter to the clubhouse, and the moment I looked into those vacant eyes, I knew she’d been badly broken. Some part of me wanted to fix her. Put the pieces back together. Watch her eyes light up and see her smile. She thinks she’s dirty, that no one will ever want her. She’s wrong. I want her. I even want the baby growing inside her.

Never thought I’d find the woman meant to be mine. Now that I’ve had Raven in my arms, chased away her nightmares, kissed her tears away, I know I can’t let her go. I’ll make her mine — the baby too — and I won’t let anyone stand in my way.

WARNING: Fox is part of the Hades Abyss MC series. Be warned there are adult situations and language, violence, darker themes that may trigger some readers like suicide and assault. Guaranteed Happily-Ever-After, no cheating, and no cliffhanger!

Preorder Coming Soon!

About the Author

Harley Wylde is the International Bestselling Author of the Dixie Reapers MC, Devil’s Boneyard MC, and Hades Abyss MC series.

When Harley’s writing, her motto is the hotter the better — off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place. She doesn’t shy away from the dangers and nastiness in the world, bringing those realities to the pages of her books, but always gives her characters a happily-ever-after and makes sure the bad guys get what they deserve. 

The times Harley isn’t writing, she’s thinking up naughty things to do to her husband, drinking copious amounts of Starbucks, and reading. She loves to read and devours a book a day, sometimes more. She’s also fond of TV shows and movies from the 1980’s, as well as paranormal shows from the 1990’s to today, even though she’d much rather be reading or writing.

You can find out more about Harley or enter her monthly giveaway on her website. Be sure to join her newsletter while you’re there to learn more about discounts, signing events, and other goodies!

Stalk the Author

BOOK REVIEW: Sideswiped by Lauren Alsten #RomCom #agegap

How many times will Tara swipe right before realizing her perfect lover is already in her bed?

Jared might be stuck in an unfulfilling job, but he knows what he wants to be doing. He also knows who he wants to be with — Tara, a.k.a. The Goth Girl Next Door he’s fantasized about for years. He’s not bothered by their age difference, but everyone else seems to be. Tara thinks he’s just a plaything, his brother thinks she’s a witch, and his parents think she’s trouble.

Jared thinks she’s perfect.

Tara loves her job as a sex streamer, but since quarantine, she’s tired of flying solo. Then she teams up with her zygote of a neighbor, and her tips soar. So does her pleasure, yet she keeps swiping, searching for a mature, responsible LTR-worthy man.

Jared’s convinced he’s everything she needs, but can they keep their relationship hot without their passion self-destructing?

PREORDER for JULY 30

MY REVIEW – 5 stars!

Lauren Alsten’s Sidewiped is laugh-out-loud funny!

I admit it, the cover got me. As a cat lover, one look at the two black cats, and I had to click to find out more. And a sex streamer? Yep, that lured me in for sure. So I shamelessly snagged an ARC of this delightful RomCom that will have you laughing at times and wanting to cry at others.

Tara is a strong, vibrant woman who thinks she’s finally ready to settle down. Assuming she can find the right man. Except she’s going about it all wrong. Using a dating app is getting her nowhere. With one loser after another showing up for her dates, she’s starting to think she may end up alone.

Jared has adored Tara since he hit puberty and realized girls aren’t so icky after all. And now that he’s all grown up, he can think of nothing he wants more than to spend time with her. Too bad she still sees him as a kid – or at least she claims that’s the case. When the two end up in bed – multiple times – Jared knows he’s found the woman he wants to keep forever.

The verbal sparring between these two is enough to keep you on your toes. They’re so cute together, even if Tara is a stubborn mule and refuses to admit she likes Jared. The characters were well-developed, and the humor is sprinkled throughout. I seriously hope Tara’s sister and Jared’s brother get a book. Those two are in some serious denial about their feelings!

Looking for a quick, feel-good read? Sideswiped will have you laughing, crying, and falling in love right alongside the characters.

*Disclaimer: I received an ARC in exchange for an honest review. The review above is only my opinion. 

Building a Family by M.L. Uberti #contemporaryromance @MLUberti_writer

Jamie knows to Daniel she’s just the babysitter for his brother’s children. She’s too young, too inexperienced, too shy for him. But she feels safe when she’s with him, and she wishes they could have more.

Daniel knows he’s too old, too rough, and far too wary for a beautiful young woman like Jamie. She should run away from him and what he wants and needs from her.

Unless they’re both wrong.

Available Today at Changeling Press

Preorder for July 23 at online booksellers

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 ML Uberti

First time I met her, I hadn’t been here a full week. My brother had convinced me to leave my gig for one with better pay — closer to family. I made a shitload already but Brandon was itching to have me stateside again after I’d been gone half a decade in the army, then another twelve years working for Shell Oil, deep in ocean waters away from civilization. I think he was afraid I was going insane or becoming antisocial or something.

First time I saw her was Sunday dinner. I’d arrived on Monday, when I’d thrown the few bags I had down on the floor of the rental Brandon got for me and passed out, then done nothing but work the next six days. My first day off I wanted to get some furniture, maybe buy some shit for my fridge that wasn’t half-empty takeout containers. But Brandon insisted I come over and have dinner with him and Taylor, his wife, and his three kids, Austin and Becca, five-year-old twins, and two-year-old daughter Sierra. My brother had managed to knock up his wife again and she was due in four months with another boy.

A Lucas family trait was that none of us could keep it in our pants. If my brothers and I had anything in common it was as soon as we all hit fifteen, we couldn’t get enough pussy. Girls in school, from the town up the road, college chicks hitting the bars in Modesto where we grew up — they were all fair game. And we played to fucking win.

But with pussy came chains. They wanted to lock you down, bleed you dry and make you fucking miserable. Didn’t want or need that shit so at thirty-eight years old, I knew I’d never settle down. Until I saw the babysitter.

“Jamie! Austin can’t find his jersey!” Taylor practically shouted in my ear from right outside the back door while my brother and I were both leaning against the counter of his kitchen, beer in hand.

“I think it’s in the laundry basket in the basement! I’ll grab it!” a soft, feminine voice called back.

“Thanks, hon!” Taylor let the door slam and joining my brother and I in the kitchen. “I swear to God this house would fall down around our ears without Jamie.”

Taylor worked with us at Valiant Drilling as the office manager. That’s how she’d met my brother. After six months of him asking her every damn day to go out with him, he finally wore her down and she said yes. They were married less than a year later, and two after that, Austin and Becca were born. Brandon told me as soon as he saw her, he knew. “Like a boner to the heart,” he stated eloquently.

I thought he was crazy. Taylor was cute, sure. Sexy in a way, with curvy hips and a little bit of sass. But tying himself down with one woman then having three-soon-to-be-four kids with her? Sounded like hell on fucking earth.

Then the door opened and swear to God, it felt like time froze.

I saw a flash of a slight frame, with my stare traveling from a pair of white sneakers, up a pair of slim, long legs that went on for miles, to an ass clad in a pair of black cotton leggings, a slight flare of hips, a flat stomach, a hell of rack, and then a face that was show-stopping. Her eyes were honey-colored, her hair dark, pulled up off her neck in a messy bun, and as I took in her full mouth, classic features and thick lashes, my dick went to steel.

She turned and faced me, the corners of her mouth tipping up as her golden brown eyes met mine. “Hi! I’m Jamie. You must be Daniel. Brandon talks about you all the time.” She rolled her eyes good-naturedly and I felt that in my dick.

I swallowed a mouthful of beer so I didn’t have to respond and tipped my head up in a nod, meeting her gaze for just a second, then uncrossing my legs to try to get some room for my throbbing cock.

Didn’t work. She just kept smiling at me, then bounced away to the steps, and I got a good, long look at that ass. I swear to God my dick started to leak into my jeans.

“I’ll help. It’s the least I can do since you do everything else,” Taylor told the angel, setting down her bowl and trotting after the babysitter, as Jamie’s twinkling laugh drifted up the steps.

I watched them go, my body stiff in more ways than one, and after a few seconds, Brandon burst out laughing.

My gaze went to him, bent over and losing it. “Oh shit, man. Haven’t seen that look on your face in a long time. Since you were fourteen and had Miss Harrison for geometry. You had to hide your hard-on behind your textbook for a whole semester. Classic!”

My brother was still laughing at me as I finished off the beer I had in my hand and grabbed another one, not saying a word.

He wasn’t wrong.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Starbucks aficionado, lover of throw blankets and betrayer of all things kale, ML Uberti is a Wayne State University graduate and Metro Detroit author with a predilection for oddities and happy endings. She is mom to three autistic kids, 2 ridiculously stupid dogs and wife of a teacher and musician who has endless patience for her impeccably bad taste in Netflix shows and murder documentaries. She is thrilled to dip her toe into scifi romance from contemporary and hopes you enjoy her big, brooding alien alphas and resilient fairy tale queens.

Wratch (Black Reign MC) by Marteeka Karland #romanticsuspense @marteekakarland

Wrath: When El Diablo sends me to infiltrate the DA’s office and find out who’s involved in the corruption there, I’m all over it. Being a lawyer, I’m singularly suited to El Diablo’s purpose, and I know the system inside and out. I am also adept at blending in, even with my muscles and tatts. We’ve known since Justice from Salvation’s Bane took a prison sentence he didn’t deserve that someone from the DA’s office was in the back pocket of the wrong people. Those wrong people are in the form of a rival MC who rule their territory with an iron fist and are trying to encroach on Salvation’s Bane as well as Black Reign.

Then I meet a sexy little platinum-haired escort and all bets are off. I’m attracted to her like I’ve never been to another woman, and it’s messing with the Zen-like calm I’m famous for. If I can’t pull myself together enough to complete this job, I’ll fail my club and, more importantly, my mentor, the club president, El Diablo. That’s something even this unholy attraction can’t cause. But what’s a man to do when all that stands in the way of the happiness of a sexy single mom and her feisty but vulnerable daughter is club business, and a few Saint Bernard puppies?

Celeste: I’m in a financial jam of the worst kind. I need to make enough money to pay for my daughter Holly’s medical bills. The sheer volume of money I need is overwhelming. Working doesn’t touch it, and no one wants to hire me full-time because of the cost of insurance. The only way to finish Holly’s leukemia treatments is for me to keep up the payments to the hospital and clinic. If I can’t, then Holly’s chances of remission may only be a lost dream. Out of options, I accept an offer to be an escort. Not only that, but I soon find myself working for a motorcycle club as a “cam girl,” doing live sex shows. Glamorous? Not at all. But it’s more money than I can make working three jobs. Imagine my surprise when the man who paid for my services as an escort turns up in the control room of my first cam show. He’s sexy as sin, and much more than he appears to be. He’s also got me completely under his spell. Which sucks because he’s quite possibly the rudest jackass I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.

Available Today at Changeling Press

Preorder for July 23 at online booksellers

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Marteeka Karland

“I think you’ll like corporate law, Vincent.” The man currently schmoozing up to me was a weasel. If I could have my way, I’d’ve tossed the fucker off the balcony of the huge suite the firm of Lawson, Hughsman, and Gray had procured. The firm was having a little romancing session at the Four Seasons Resort in Palm Springs for several lawyers they were considering bringing into their fold. Including me. I was supposed to be scoping out Nathaniel Lawson, the son of the founding member of the firm. He was the personal attorney of the new District Attorney in the city. He was the man responsible for keeping away lawsuits and criminal investigations into anything Harold Collins might be threatened with so the DA’s office at looked clean and untarnished. This guy, Stewart Gray, was a pompous windbag and as big a scumbag as everyone else in that fucking firm. And the fucking DA’s office. I hated all of them. But I couldn’t show it.

“Perhaps,” I replied vaguely. “As long as it makes me money.”

“Oh, there’s plenty of money to be had,” Gray chuckled. “Join us. We heard about your work taking down the former DA, William Barrison. Who knew the son of a bitch was so corrupt? Hid it for more than a decade, but you brought him out into the open. Thanks to you, the city is a much safer place.”

“I live to serve.” I grinned slightly. “As long as it makes me money.”

We both laughed.

This was a bust. Nathaniel Lawson was on his best behavior, other than the high-end call girls and even higher-end drugs at the party. They were considering five other prospective partners. Only one of them would get the spot in the firm, and I was beginning to think this whole angle was a bust. I just wanted to get out, get with Black Reign, and rethink this whole setup. We needed a different approach.

“Well, my friend,” Gray continued. “If you want to make money, I guarantee you, you’ve come to the right place. Lawson, Hughsman, and Gray can make you a lot of money.” He emphasized “a lot” and gave me a knowing look. “With money comes power. With power comes perks.” He gestured toward a long table with pretty much any kind of quality drug or liquor a man could want. There were Cuban cigars, Legacy rum, some kind of expensive absinthe, and, of course, heroin, cocaine, and various other mind-altering substances.

As if that whole line had been a setup, a door opened just beyond the well-stocked table and several very beautiful, very sophisticated women entered. “See what I mean?” Gray looked positively gleeful, actually rubbing his hands together as he eyed each woman like a kid in a candy store. “Yours to enjoy, Vincent. Take your pick. There’s nothing they won’t do. Live out your nastiest fantasies with as many of them as you like for as long as you like.” He clapped my shoulder. “These are just a very few of the perks you can enjoy as one of us.”

Normally, I’d have smiled politely and passed, but one woman caught my eye in a huge way. She was ethereal in her beauty. Long, platinum-blonde hair, flawlessly pale skin. She’d dressed in red, naturally. Some skimpy little number I couldn’t even register. All I saw was the woman. Short and slight, she had rounded hips but was very slender. Her legs were perfectly formed. Just the right amount of muscle to grip a man tight during sex. She looked out of place among the other women. It wasn’t something I could put my finger on, but she just didn’t fit.

Nervous. She looked nervous. Where the other women smiled and sought out a partner, this girl seemed unsure of herself. She smiled politely when she had to, but she didn’t have that shark-like quality the others did. If she was looking for the wealthiest man of the bunch — and when did an escort not do that? — she wasn’t doing a good job. In fact, she seemed to avoid eye contact whenever she could. Lord knew more than one of the men in the room tried to get her attention. She was easily the most beautiful woman in that room. Instead, she wandered around, looking at the artwork on the walls. She avoided the table with the alcohol and drugs.

My very first thought the second I could see her from head to toe was that if I fucked her the way I wanted, I might break her delicate frame. My next thought was, “I can be gentle.” It was a Goddamned lie, but I told myself that anyway.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Erotic romance author by night, emergency room tech/clerk by day, Marteeka Karland works really hard to drive everyone in her life completely and totally nuts. She has been creating stories from her warped imagination since she was in the third grade. Her love of writing blossomed throughout her teenage years until it developed into the totally unorthodox and irreverent style her English teachers tried so hard to rid her of.

Romance Book Box Giveaway #bookgiveaway #romancebooks

It’s summertime in the US! How many of you are planning vacations, or perhaps a stay-cation filled with lots of reading time?

Do you want a chance to win this Changeling Press book box, charm bracelet, necklace, door hanger, and padded envelope of author swag? The box contains a range of romances from paranormal to scifi to contemporary. Two of the titles are anthologies that contain one or more LGBTQ romances. The full list of titles and genres are listed below.

Open until July 25, 2021

Box contains the following books:

Desire Island by Shelby Morgen, Stephanie Burke, and Treva Harte

Desire Island — a gateway to the heart’s deepest desire, to passion’s heat, to love.

Paranormal/Futuristic Romance

Preacher with Ryker & Badger by Harley Wylde (signed)

I lost the love of my life and vowed to never love again. Until temptation walked through the door.

Biker/Age-Gap Romance

All Wrapped Up Vol. 1 by Angela Knight, Dakota Cassidy, and Kate Hill

Vampires, Shifters, and Destined Mates search for their Happy Ever After on the paranormal side…

Urban Fantasy/Sci-Fi Romance

Neko by Ana Raine

Collin has loved Adrian for over a decade but can he trust his future to the Prince of the Demons?

Dark Fantasy/Gay Romance

Cardboard Hero/Wild Geese by Shelby Morgen (signed)

Tory’s falling in love with her hero — she’s just not sure which one.

Paranormal Romance

Lionsblood by Marteeka Karland

In Earth’s brutal, future frozen, the Lionsblood claim what they want, and never look back.

Shapeshifters/Sci-Fi Romance

Vaaden Captives & Warriors by Jessica Coulter Smith (signed)

When Vaaden warriors claim slaves from Earth they will face emotions they never knew they possessed.

Slave/Sci-Fi Romance

Rookery Cove by Kira Stone, Stephanie Burke, Jade Buchanan, Emma Ray Garrett, Tuesday Morrigan, and Lacey Savage

Rookery Cove Aphrodisiacs: Here to satisfy the intimate needs of every paranormal.

LGBTQ/Paranormal Romance

Venom/Torch by Harley Wylde (signed)

One f**king look. That’s all it took. I branded her. I let her go. Now she’s back, and she’s mine.

Biker/Age-Gap Romance

Cain/Bohanan by Marteeka Karland (signed)

This biker’s the hottest guy I’ve ever come across. Resisting isn’t something I’m even going to try.

Biker/Age-Gap Romance

Some of the swag items, like bookmarks, are also signed.

Click the link to enter: a Rafflecopter giveaway

Giveaway sponsored by Harley Wylde & Books+Coffee=Happiness book blog. No purchase necessary to enter. Open to US residents only. Void where prohibited. Must be 18+ years of age to enter. Please read the full terms and conditions at Rafflecopter.

☆。COVER REVEAL☆ Ranger (Reckless Kings MC) by Harley Wylde #actionadventure #contemporaryromance @HarleyW_Writer

Cover Art by Bryan Keller


COMING JULY 16, 2021 !!

Danica — I followed in my dad’s footsteps, chasing the rodeo. It’s been my life, other than friends and family with the Dixie Reapers. Until now, no one’s really noticed me. I’ve barely dated, and at twenty-three, I’m still a virgin. Then he walks in. Ranger. A Reckless King, and so far out of my league. But one kiss, and I know I’ll remember him forever… even after he walks away.

I didn’t think we had a future. Thought he’d forget I exist. But I was wrong. He wants me, every bit as much as I want him.

Ranger — I saw her ride in a rodeo a year ago, and she held me spellbound. Running into her again at the Dixie Reapers, I’m not sure I can keep my hands to myself. She’s Cowboy’s daughter, and I should keep my distance. Too bad I’ve never been all that great at following the rules.

Only one thing is standing in my way. There’s someone stalking her. A man who thinks she’s his. He’s wrong. Danica will be mine, one way or another. Anyone who stands in the way will wish they’d never heard of me.

WARNING: Ranger is recommended for adult readers. It has coarse language, adult situations, and discusses events, like stalking and assault, that may trigger some readers. There is no cheating, a guaranteed happily-ever-after, and no cliffhanger!

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 ☆ ARC REVIEWS ☆

 “An exquisitely captivating, sweet, endearing and thrilling ride to go on…This story had so many great scenes that made me tear up, laugh, swoon, fan myself, and gasp.” – BookBub Review

Preorder for July 16, 2021

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Available July 9th at Changeling Press

https://bit.ly/3zCZ2jg

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Harley Wylde

“Why did I let you talk me into this?” I asked.

Scott grinned. “You’ll like it. First time a bull stomps some poor cowboy, you’ll be just as into it as the rest of the crowd.”

“Your idea of entertainment is fucked up.”

He ignored me and led us farther through the crowd. We ended up on bleachers halfway up, which gave us a decent view of the arena. I should have told him to fuck off and gone to a bar. Instead, I’d let him talk me into going to a rodeo. In my cut and motorcycle boots, I stuck out like a sore thumb. Scott had on his cowboy boots and a cowboy hat, which made sense seeing as how he worked on a horse farm outside Atlanta. My cowboy days were over. Long over.

“We just have to make it through the bronc riders and barrel racers before the bulls come out,” Scott said. “Some of the barrel racers are good eye candy, though. A few of them compete all over the country.”

Why did it not surprise me he’d be checking out the women, even the ones in the rodeo? The ladies had always loved Scott. Back when I’d served with him in the Army, I’d seen him walk out of a bar with two or three women hanging off him. I’d been leery of being with random women, unless I used a condom I’d brought with me. Even then, nothing was foolproof.

“Next up is Danica Adler on Windstorm,” the announcer said.

“Oh, this will be good.” Scott rubbed his hands on his thighs. “She’s one of the favorites.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Her dad is a champion rodeo rider. Last I heard, he was like you… a biker. They live down someplace in Alabama. Both his kids are following in his footsteps. Danica runs barrels and his son rides bulls. They’re both damn good too.”

I focused on the arena when a horse shot out of the gate. The slim rider on his back clung to him as he raced around the barrels. I couldn’t see much of her, except long honey-colored hair and curves that made my mouth water. When she finished her run, the announcer whooped with excitement.

“She did good?” I asked Scott. I might have lived around horses most of my life, but I’d never really cared about going to a rodeo. I damn sure hadn’t had a reason to watch anyone run barrels.

“Hell yeah! I bet she wins tonight.” He smiled and nudged me with his shoulder. “Told you this would be fun.”

Beast had sent me to Atlanta for a drop-off, so I’d thought I’d hang at a bar tonight before heading home. Nope. I’d decided to look up my old buddy Scott, and he’d nixed that idea almost immediately, so here I was at a rodeo. A rodeo. Although, I had to admit, watching Danica had been pretty exciting, even if it had ended quickly.

I spotted Danica making her way through the crowd. The smile on her face made my heart slam against my ribs. Fuck but she was pretty. Not gorgeous, but a sweet girl-next-door type. She just happened to be exactly the sort of woman I went for. Knowing she was a biker’s daughter, and from Alabama, made me think she was most likely Cowboy’s daughter and therefore the property of the Dixie Reapers. Which meant she was hands-off. Didn’t stop me from wanting her.

One night of fun was one thing, but forever? I knew if I put my hands on her, one of two things would happen. Either her daddy would demand I claim her, or he’d make sure no one ever found my body. Hell, he’d probably string me up for even looking at her the way I was right now. If he was like the others, and like Beast, then I had no doubt he was overprotective of his daughter.

Scott jammed his elbow into my ribs. “Don’t stare too hard. You know damn well her dad would have your balls.”

Right. I scanned the crowd, wondering if there might be a willing woman, and soon realized they were all about the cowboys and boots and wouldn’t want a damn thing to do with a biker. I may have grown up on a horse farm in Middle Tennessee, but those days were a thing of the past. I hadn’t been on a horse in years and didn’t plan to start now. Why the fuck did I let Scott talk me into shit like this? It wasn’t the first time I’d listened to him instead of doing what I’d originally planned, and it always came back to bite me in the ass in one way or another.

“You owe me,” I said.

“Oh, please. You may not be able to touch, but you can’t tell me Danica won’t be in your spank bank for a long while. The girl has legs for days, even if she is on the petite side. I’m not blind. I can appreciate all she has to offer. Doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to try and go there.”

“I had plans for tonight. None of which included going to bed alone, so thanks for nothing.”

Scott sighed. “We’ll hit up a bar on the way back to the motel. You can find some easy pussy.”

“Like you plan on abstaining?” I asked.

He shrugged and looked off in the direction Danica had just disappeared. I narrowed my eyes at him and had the sudden urge to beat the shit out of Scott. Did he have a thing for the Reaper’s daughter? I hadn’t even spoken to her, and yet part of me wanted to blind any fucker who dared look her way. Scott included. What the fuck was wrong with me?

I definitely needed to get laid and put Danica out of my mind. No fucking way I’d ever be able to go there. Scott was right about one thing, though. She’d be starring in my fantasies for a long while.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Harley Wylde is the International Bestselling Author of the Dixie Reapers MC, Devil’s Boneyard MC, and Hades Abyss MC series.


When Harley’s writing, her motto is the hotter the better — off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place. She doesn’t shy away from the dangers and nastiness in the world, bringing those realities to the pages of her books, but always gives her characters a happily-ever-after and makes sure the bad guys get what they deserve. 

The times Harley isn’t writing, she’s thinking up naughty things to do to her husband, drinking copious amounts of Starbucks, and reading. She loves to read and devours a book a day, sometimes more. She’s also fond of TV shows and movies from the 1980’s, as well as paranormal shows from the 1990’s to today, even though she’d much rather be reading or writing.  

You can find out more about Harley or enter her monthly giveaway on her website. Be sure to join her newsletter while you’re there to learn more about discounts, signing events, and other goodies!


Harley Online: Website | Facebook | Instagram | BookBub

SPOTLIGHT: Rooster (Devil’s Boneyard MC) by Harley Wylde #actionadventure #romcom @HarleyW_Writer @changelingpress

Rooster (Devil’s Boneyard MC) by Harley Wylde

Published by Changeling Press
Cover Art by Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Biker Romance, Action Adventure,
Romantic Comedy, Age-Gap (older man)
Release Date: June 11, 2021

ABOUT THE BOOK 📚

Alora – I’ve prided myself on being a strong, independent woman and not needing anyone. I didn’t become a bestselling author by the age of twenty out of pure dumb luck. I worked my tail off to get as far as I have. But there are few perks to having a man in my life. Laughter, romance, and companionship. Battery operated boyfriends can only do so much. Too bad the guy who sets me on fire is a bossy biker who wants to claim me. No way I’m letting him label me as property. Nope. Not happening. Doesn’t matter if he does make my knees weak and my heart race. I’m not giving in!

Rooster – Of all the women to capture my interest, it had to be the most stubborn, sexy, adorable woman on the planet. I love her mind, her sense of humor, and the way she fills out a pair of shorts. I don’t even mind that she’s an exhibitionist, as long as no one touches. Doesn’t matter to me her uncles were both rotten to the core. The Devil’s Fury may think she belongs to them, but I have other plans. Alora will be mine — no matter the cost.

WARNING: Rooster is part of the Devil’s Boneyard MC series. There are adult situations and bad language. No cliffhanger. Happily-ever-after and laughter guaranteed!

BUY LINKS

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/3vFgBgj

Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/3vFo7b1

Amazon AU: https://amzn.to/3g1SYI0

Apple Books: https://apple.co/3oFwOiF

B&N Nook: https://bit.ly/3prMNBC

Kobo: https://bit.ly/3fSZCBy

Changeling Press: https://bit.ly/3byUHmZ

Add to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3ydeRN4

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EXCERPT 💖

The front door nearly rattled off the hinges when someone started pounding on it. If I hadn’t known King Kong was a fictional character, I’d think he was on my porch. What the hell?

I narrowed my eyes in the direction of the front entry and went to answer it. It wasn’t like I knew anyone in town. I’d only been here a month, which made it doubtful I’d pissed anyone off — yet. I yanked it open, ready to tear into whoever was on the other side, but stopped and stared.

The man arched his eyebrows and tipped his sunglasses down enough to peer over the top of them. God, why did I find that so sexy? He’d braced an arm against the doorframe and his muscles bulged. I licked my lips and tried to remember how to speak. As my gaze skimmed over him, it snagged on the black leather over his shoulders. Fuck. It was one of the bikers.

Rooster – Devil’s Boneyard MC.

“You going to let me in, a ghrá?”

His voice sent chills down my spine and my nipples hardened against my thin tank. He smirked, clearly knowing the effect he had on me. Asshole.

“I don’t let strangers into my home,” I said. I peered over his shoulder and saw another man on a motorcycle at the curb. It seemed only one of them wanted to come into the house. Thank goodness for small favors.

He leaned in, the scent of cinnamon and cloves making me want to breathe in deep. “But we’re not strangers. You’re Twister’s niece, which makes you Devil’s Fury property. Since we consider them family, that makes you mine.”

✨ WHAT ARE REVIEWERS SAYING ? ✨

“I reckon this is the best yet, independent sassy heroine and sweet but alpha hero who both know what they want and need from each other.” – alicebason @ BookBub

“This book was steamy and laugh out loud funny – Just the perfect combo!!!” – tanyakay28 @ BookBub

“Lots of laughs, some drama, lots of sexy times” – nbenigno @ BookBub

ABOUT HARLEY WYLDE

Harley Wylde is the International Bestselling Author of the Dixie Reapers MC, Devil’s Boneyard MC, and Hades Abyss MC series.

When Harley’s writing, her motto is the hotter the better — off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place. She doesn’t shy away from the dangers and nastiness in the world, bringing those realities to the pages of her books, but always gives her characters a happily-ever-after and makes sure the bad guys get what they deserve.

The times Harley isn’t writing, she’s thinking up naughty things to do to her husband, drinking copious amounts of Starbucks, and reading. She loves to read and devours a book a day, sometimes more. She’s also fond of TV shows and movies from the 1980’s, as well as paranormal shows from the 1990’s to today, even though she’d much rather be reading or writing. 

You can find out more about Harley or enter her monthly giveaway on her website.

Find Harley Online: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | BookBub | Amazon

“Her characters are phenomenal and have a lot of depth to them. She is absolutely fantastic at writing an engaging sexy story. Harley Wylde keeps the words flowing so that you have to turn the page to see what happens next.”

— All Author Interview

Release Blitz: The Mayor of Oak Street by Vincent Traughber Meis #agegap #LGBTQ @convince415 @GoIndiMarketing @ninestarpress

Title: The Mayor of Oak Street

Author: Vincent Traughber Meis

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 06/14/2021

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 88400

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, age-gap, coming-of-age, coming out, college, political, friends to lovers, period piece, reunited

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Description

In the 1960s, Midwestern boy and Boy Scout, Nathan delivers newspapers and mows lawns. Nathan uses his cover to move about yards and sneak into the homes of his neighbors, uncovering their secrets.

In high school, one of the local misfits introduces him to diet pills, which help him overcome his shyness. In an amphetamine high, he meets Cindy, who he hopes will steer him along the “morally straight” path of the Boy Scout Oath he swore to.

Nathan is infatuated with a young doctor down the street, Nicholas (Dr. B), who embodies all the things his mother would love him to be. On one of his secret forays in Dr. B’s house, he hides in a closet and witnesses his idol having sex with man while the wife is out of town. Dr. B’s affair leads to tragedy, forcing the doctor to leave town.
At college in New Orleans, Nathan meets a group of rebels and expands his drug use. Marc, a bisexual Cajun charmer becomes Nathan’s first male sexual experience, but promptly leaves town.

Nathan has a chance encounter with Dr. B, who has moved to New Orleans. Dr. B is in a relationship, but still closeted. Frustrated by Dr. B’s cool reaction, Nathan goes on a six-month binge of amphetamines and anonymous sex. On one night of debauchery, he overdoses and ends up in the emergency ward.

Nathan’s near death rallies Dr. B and Nathan’s other friends to force him into rehab. On the way home from work, Nathan witnesses the gruesome aftermath of the 1973 Up Stairs Lounge fire that devastated the gay population of New Orleans. As a result of the fire, Dr. B’s live-in boyfriend leaves town, freeing Dr. B to explore his feelings for Nathan.

Excerpt

The Mayor of Oak Street
Vincent Traughber Meis © 2021
All Rights Reserved

The Sangamon flows muddy and rank through the corn and soybean fields of central Illinois, giving its name to my city and the lake it fills on the south side before continuing its meander west. One of its tributaries, the even lazier and muddier Harold’s Creek, ran practically up to my back door in its own journey through the woods behind the homes on Oak Street.

The afternoon sun filtered through the tall trees, warming my shoulders as I walked along the creek, imagining building a raft like I had seen my brother and his friends do a few years before. I would ride it down the creek to the Sangamon and into the Illinois, eventually reaching the Mississippi. The Mississippi would take me to New Orleans, a city memorialized in song, literature, and film as a place of wonder. It wasn’t that I needed to run away like Huckleberry Finn. I hadn’t yet learned to hate everything the Sangamon gave its name to. It was a boy’s fantasy brought on by the heat of summer and the mesmerizingly sluggish flow of water.

I heard a branch snap deep in the woods. I often saw hobos from the nearby Wabash Line wandering in the woods, and my mother told me I needed to avoid them, but I sometimes watched them from behind a clump of bushes. My eyes darted around the area and saw nothing. I glanced at my watch. Time to go. For most kids, these were the carefree days of summer, but I had things to do. From the creek, I walked up the hill, through our backyard, and out to the street.

Mrs. Sloan’s heavy oak door hung wide open while a screen kept the swarms of late summer flies and mosquitoes at bay. I put my face to the mesh in what felt like an invasion of her privacy, causing me to tingle from the top of my head down to my big toes.

“Hello? Mrs. Sloan?” I shouted into the dim interior of the hall.

No answer.

I opened the screen door haltingly and stepped inside. The door creaked shut, sounding painful in the silence of the house. I took a step, and then another. My legs shook. I peered to the right into the living room and left into the dining room. A force had taken control of me and pushed me on, my sneakers barely touching the carpet.

I went as far as the kitchen, passing two empty bedrooms on the way. Her purse sat on the yellow chrome Formica kitchen table, the keys to her Oldsmobile right next to it. Out the kitchen window, I searched for her floppy straw hat in the sunny backyard. She was neither in the garden where she often tended her vegetables nor in the lawn chair where she sometimes sat, large sunglasses on her nose and a cocktail in hand. I took note the lawn needed mowing.

Nylons hung over the bathroom shower curtain rod, hypnotically swaying in the breeze from the open window. Though we called her Mrs. Sloan, I had never heard of a Mr. Sloan. My father once complained about entering the bathroom and finding my mother’s nylons drying in plain sight. I wondered if Mrs. Sloan was sad living alone or happy she had the freedom to do what she wanted.

I should have been scared of her coming home and finding me lurking in her house, but a stronger force blocked the fear, a compelling energy moving my mind and body, making me feel impervious to danger. I continued down the hall to the living room, stopping to gaze at each of three framed needlepoint messages: “There’s nothing to fear but fear itself,” “A cheery smile makes life worthwhile,” and “You belong among the wildflowers.”

I had come to Mrs. Sloan’s door in my rounds, collecting for my paper route. She was a month behind in her payments. And I rationalized my invasion of her home out of concern for her welfare. My mother once said she wouldn’t be surprised to find her passed out drunk on the front lawn one day. My brother in high school sometimes came home from a night of drinking with his buddies and would collapse face down on his bed in our shared room without removing his clothes or shoes. One time, he ended up on the floor. Perhaps Mrs. Sloan had fallen like my brother. Perhaps she had fallen asleep in the bath and was at risk of drowning like I had seen on a television program.

I spent a few more minutes in the house before exiting through the front door into the calm and quiet on Oak Street. I continued up the block to do the rest of the collections. That night I drew a floor plan of her home, noting doors and windows. My brother called me a weirdo when the first thing I looked at in the Sunday paper was the page with the floor plan of a new house on the market while he went for the sports section, my father the news, and my mother the book reviews. I also scribbled notes about Mrs. Sloan’s house: the color and shape of her purse, the black-and-white photo of a somber older couple in the living room, the buff-colored nylons, the approximately twelve-inch cross hanging over her bed, and the needlepoint messages.

Before I entered my teenage years, I would know my way in and out of most every house on the block without being discovered. It was the Midwest. It was the ‘60s. Crime happened elsewhere. In addition to delivering papers, I mowed lawns. I could cross barriers, move within fences, and befriend dogs. Access. Getting inside the house was usually the easy part.

Everybody told me my paper route and lawn-mowing jobs would be good experience though I had no idea how much I would learn about myself, about others, about life, the good and the bad. I could assume the face of the upstanding neighborhood boy, appearing at their doors to collect subscription payments, smiling and making small talk while below the surface I was another person, motivated by desires they would never understand.

The second time I entered a home was as spontaneous as the first. It was the Pruitts’. While mowing the front lawn, I noticed Mrs. Pruitt lock the front door, take her two identically dressed little girls by the hand, jump into their Ford station wagon, and drive off. When I got around to the back of the house, I spotted the kitchen door standing open, beckoning me. I turned off the mower so I would hear if the car returned. I went into the kitchen. My mother would die rather than let our kitchen fall into such disorder; the sink filled with dirty dishes, and the kitchen table covered with open schoolbooks and scattered papers.

A half-full milk carton sat on the counter. I opened the fridge and saw a whole shelf of soda pop. I took an orange Crush and drank it as I did a quick tour of the house. Not much interesting. The rest of the house was as messy as the kitchen. I finished the soda outside, threw the bottle in the trashcan, and finished mowing the lawn. Before I went to bed that night, I drew a floor plan of their three-bedroom and put it in a folder with Mrs. Sloan’s.

I thought of these intrusions as accidents, isolated incidents that wouldn’t be repeated. But images of those escapades kept dancing through my head, enticing me to do it again. The rush of danger, the real possibility I might be caught, was like a drug. At the time I was still ignorant about drugs and addictions, but my body clearly knew sensations it wanted to revisit. I managed to stave off my urges for a few months. I turned twelve over the summer, and several of my customers who had heard it was my birthday tacked on a bit extra to their payments.

Lawn-mowing season came to an end as the weather turned cold, and we had our first snowfall. Soon after, I started receiving calls about paper holds for the Thanksgiving holidays. To me, they might as well have been invitations. I prayed it didn’t snow as the soft whiteness would show the hard dirty prints of my boots, a trail of my activities. I had to start thinking about such things: tracks I might leave, who in the neighborhood tended to snoop out their windows, or how often people left doors unlocked, windows open.

I made a point of being friendly with the dogs on my street as I knew my extracurricular activities at houses with animals could be a problem. The Jackmans had a golden retriever. I’d received notice to put their paper on hold for five days, making me guess they weren’t going to leave the dog in the house for that length of time.

When I did my collections the week before Thanksgiving, I casually mentioned to Mrs. Jackman that I had received the hold notice. People loved to give out information they didn’t have to. She revealed they were going to their lake house in Arkansas. Butch was curled up at her feet. He raised his head as she took a ten out of her wallet and gave it to me. She told me to keep the change, and I thanked her profusely while I tore off her receipt.

I reached down to pet the dog. “I guess Butch is going to get a vacation too.”

“Oh, yeah. He loves it down there.”

Bingo, I was in. After our Thanksgiving meal, Dad and my brother watched the football game on TV while Mom cleaned up. I went to my room, saying I was going to read. Nobody thought it was odd. In my family, everybody did pretty much what he or she wanted. Normally, after a Thanksgiving meal, Dad and my brother passed out in front of the TV, and Mom curled up in a chair to read after cleaning up the kitchen. They had all had a lot of wine at dinner, including David, who my parents allowed to drink though he was only sixteen, something about him learning to drink responsibly at home keeping him from being irresponsible when he went out. I wasn’t sure that was working.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Vincent Traughber Meis started writing plays as a child in the Midwest and cajoled his sisters to act in performing them for neighbors. In high school, one of his short stories won a local contest sponsored by the newspaper. After graduating from college, he worked on a number of short stories and began his first novel. In the 1980’s and 90’s he published a number of pieces, mostly travel articles in publications such as, The Advocate, LA Weekly, In Style, and Our World. His travels have inspired his five novels, all set at least partially in foreign countries: Eddie’s Desert Rose (2011), Tio Jorge (2012), and Down in Cuba (2013), Deluge (2016) and Four Calling Burds (2019). Tio Jorge received a Rainbow Award in the category of Bisexual Fiction in 2012. Down in Cuba received two Rainbow Awards in 2013. Recently stories have been published in three collections: WITH:New Gay Fiction, Best Gay Erotica Vol 1 and Best Gay Erotica Vol 4. He lives in San Leandro, CA with his husband.

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