Beautiful Disasters by Willa Okati #boxset #GayRomance #secondedition @changelingpress @willa_okati

Beautiful Disasters

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

Two wrongs don’t usually make a right. But sometimes — if you’re lucky — against all odds, they do.

A Beautiful Disaster: After being betrayed and abused by an ex-lover, Sean has learned not to give his heart away. But he can’t help wishing he could trust gentle-hearted tattoo artist Riordan…

Enough To Let You Go: Paul loves his simple country life. Problem is he’s in love with Max, who’s got his nose pointed toward London. Paul loves Max enough to let Max go… Now they’ll have to love each other enough to find their way back.

Make a Right: Tuck would take care of the world if the world would let him. Even on the edge of a breakup with Cade he can’t give up hope for their future. Cade knows their one chance at a reconciliation is giving up his secrets, but can he find the courage to take the risk?

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Willa Okati
Excerpt from A Beautiful Disaster

The crowds didn’t part easily for Riordan. He’d been gone for far too long from a place he used to know well, and some wanted to talk, some wanted to stare, and some whispered behind their hands or in one another’s ears as he passed them by. Riordan let it all slide off his back. Either they knew and they were cool, or they didn’t and they would or wouldn’t be. As long as he didn’t lose track of the man in black, it worked for him.

“Rio.” Mare leaned over the bar for a kiss on the cheek. He knew better than to try anything like tousling her hair, or he’d draw back a bloody stump. “Everything good?”

Riordan was close enough to the slight dark man to get a sense of his aura and to see him sneaking — in the mirror when he thought Riordan wasn’t looking — glimpses and glances here and there, like an edgy cat creeping close to the demarcation of shadow between his hiding place and the rest of the world. One wrong word, and he’d bolt for sure.

Mare showed Riordan her wrist. “What do you think?” She’d had a watch tattooed on, the long and short hands set to five minutes past last call. “Yeah, it’s as subtle as a brick to the face. Whatever. Got it done when I was in Miami. What do you think? Decent work?”

He took Mare’s hand and turned it to and fro. “More than.” Her artist had used light and shadow to give the watch an almost three-dimensional look, and when she turned her wrist, it cast the illusion of moving time. “Give me the artist’s name later, would you?”

The man in black hunched his shoulders tighter, almost at his ears now. Riordan nodded once at the guy and raised an eyebrow at Mare. She met and matched him and held up both hands, palms out. “You want your usual?”

“Thanks.” Riordan could sense the tension gathering. Never mind a wrong word. If he didn’t take care, this one might break and run, hurrying out and away, and Riordan couldn’t let that happen again.

Riordan tapped his glass against the dark man’s. The dark man flinched, an exaggerated startle response. The corners of Riordan’s mouth crimped in an empathetic frown. Whoever this was, he didn’t need scars to tell his story. Life hadn’t treated him well, and this one needed handling with care.

That was the interesting part. People who came to the Blind Tiger knew what they wanted. Riordan didn’t think this man did.

Riordan had the man’s attention, though. That was something at least. He liked having that intense blue focus fixed on him, shining through the sweep of black hair. “I’m Riordan,” he said, leaving his glass kissing rims with its mate. “I’d ask if we’ve met before, but I already know the answer.” He held out his hand and waited to see if the man would take it, and if he’d hear the stranger’s name.

The dark man’s hand was dry and rough with scar tissue. “Sean,” he said, barely moving his lips. Still, it was a start, and Riordan had done more with less. “I’m Sean.”

* * *

Riordan. The name fit him. Different. Not outlandish. He wasn’t wearing his scrubs tonight, but a casual shirt and soft-washed jeans instead. His hand was long and firm. A few calluses. Only a few. Strong fingers. They were so gentle on his that Sean clenched his tighter, wanting to slap the blond.

Sean took his hand back and wrapped it around his almost untouched beer. The bitterly yeasty smell made him want to sneeze, but instead he closed his eyes and drank. The hops and barley were too strong for him by far, thick and sticky on his tongue.

He could feel Riordan watching.

He looks at me as if he likes what he sees. That’s not — I don’t — Sean drank again and wiped his mouth with his fingertips. “You don’t look like a nurse when you’re out of uniform.”

Riordan let out a small, surprised laugh.

Sean tensed. “What’s so funny?”

“I didn’t expect a baritone.”

Sean touched his throat. “Oh.” He’d forgotten. No one commented on his voice. “I can’t sing.”

“Neither can I.” Riordan eased onto the empty bar stool beside him. “I am a nurse, actually. A good one.”

“With those tattoos?” Sean drank. He flexed his empty hand. “I’ve seen enough hospital staff to — I’ve met a lot of nurses. They weren’t tattooed.”

“Maybe not where you could see the ink. I’ve met plenty of nurses with body art, and I am a nurse. I work every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and weekends if they need me. Other times too.” He shifted to show Sean a pager clipped to his belt. “See?” He had a lean waist and strong thighs. He moved with a sort of confidence, as if certain his body wouldn’t ever betray him. He probably hadn’t known a sick day in his life. “I have two jobs. One as a nurse and one as an artist. They go together better than you’d think.”

The itch between his shoulder blades would drive Sean mad. A drop of sweat rolled from below his nape to the small of his waist and down. He’d almost finished his glass. When had that happened?

“Hey.” Riordan’s hand settled on his. “Are you all right?”

Sean’s hand spasmed and flexed.

Riordan didn’t let go. He left his hand right where it was. Testing.

He wants me.

Sean’s ears rang in the echo of the thought. Him. He wants me.

“Sean.” He was about to let go. He was warm, so warm, so close. The bar stools weren’t spaced far apart. The lines of his arm, his torso, his thigh, all were inches from aligning with Sean’s.

He touched Sean’s back. Lightly. Over the deepest of the scars from Leo’s belt. Leo loved using the belt because he’d known Sean would cover himself from head to toe, and the marks wouldn’t show.

Can’t let him see. If he sees, he’ll know, and if he knows, he’ll —

“Okay.” Riordan held his hands up, palms out. No threat there. “It’s okay. I’m sorry. I forget some people don’t like being touched.”

Don’t like being — Sean choked off a bark of laughter and swallowed the rest of his beer. The dregs went down almost too thick to swallow. “Don’t,” he said. “Don’t stop.”

“Are you sure about that?” Riordan laid his hand on the bar, palm up, forming a cup. His nails were cut close and kept trimmed neatly. His hair curled at the ends where it brushed the tops of his shoulders. If he didn’t have a dusting of dark blond stubble, Sean could have described him as pretty too.

Or not. Pretty wasn’t a strong enough word. Riordan was beautiful up close, not just at a distance. His eyes were variegated hazel, mostly green until seen from inches away, and then they had starbursts of amber and brown surrounding the dilating pupils. His lips were just lips, not too firm or too full or too thin, but the marks at their sides showed he smiled more often than he didn’t. He couldn’t be older than Sean but had crow’s-feet starting at the corners of those eyes.

Sean couldn’t form words, but he made himself nod.

“Then what should I do?” Riordan asked after three beats, or more, of silence. He spoke carefully. Too much so. Treating Sean as if he were made of spun glass and he’d shatter if he were hit —

Sean’s grip tightened on his empty glass.

“Don’t be gentle,” he said. He sounded to himself as if he’d already cracked. Sharp edges and twisting points. “I know what I came here for. I know what you came here for. You can have it. Me. If you’re not gentle. If you are, I’ll walk away, I swear to God.”

He turned his head and tipped it back to drain the shot glass. His heart pounded in his ears. Why? He didn’t know why. Only that if Riordan was kind, kinder than this, Sean really would lose it and he’d never be able to try again, and —

Riordan watched him. He was one of those guys who took his time when Sean didn’t want time. At least he didn’t try to pet or pat him. He might pity Sean, but as long as he kept it on the inside that would be okay.

He swallowed his shot, motion fluid, and covered the top with a ten-dollar bill. “Okay,” he said. Sean couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Good. He didn’t want to. “Not here.” He slipped off the bar stool and didn’t offer Sean a hand down. Only waited for him to climb on his own. “I don’t live far. Will you come?”

 

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Also available in Paperback

 

 

More books from Willa Okati at Changeling Press…

 

Willa Okati is made of many things: imagination, coffee, stray cat hairs, daydreams, more coffee, kitchen experimentation, a passion for winter weather, a little more coffee, and a lifelong love of storytelling. She is definitely one of the quiet ones you have to watch out for.

You can reach Willa at willaokati@gmail.com.

Join Willa on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/willa.okati.

 

 

Without You by Ana Raine #BDSM #GayRomance #NewAdult @changelingpress

Without You (Playboys 4)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

Maxwell is kind, hardworking, loyal… and six years older than Bennett. When they met, Bennett was just a kid with a childish infatuation for his mentor. But now Bennett’s an adult, with adult desires. And he’s waited long enough.

Bennett’s worked hard at becoming the man he is. He owes Max — Max is the reason he’s not just another spoiled rich kid. He’s the reason Bennett has a conscience, a sense of self-worth, and doesn’t slip every single thing he thinks he wants into his pockets without paying for it. But now Bennett must figure out what he’s given Max, if anything. And if he’s too late to try for the one thing he really wants — Max’s heart.

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Ana Raine

No one saw him the way I did. Fingers were more than just attached digits from his shapely hands, but instruments that drew pleasure with every movement. When he had nothing, absolutely nothing, he had those fingers. And I envied him.
For all my apparent wealth, I was not bestowed with what he possessed: talent.

How I longed for those fingers to touch my skin the way I knew he wanted to, the way I knew he’d imagined all those nights I had stayed over. But he was a good man, a patient man.

By some small miracle I had recorded his latest melody on my phone when he thought he was alone. The used upright piano his mother had left behind was far too memorable an image for his father to cope with. Maxwell had lovingly ditched his tools and half-worked-on cars to claim the garage space as the piano’s new home.

There was a padlock on the sliding double doors, but I knew he was more worried others would discover he played than that his piano would be vandalized. The kind of crowd he ran in was fiercely loyal, but proud and gritty to a fault.

Considering we lived in a district where some kids rolled in with new Audis when others couldn’t afford shoes, income really served as a divide. His crowd was fight or die. Mine was worried about where to vacation overseas.

It was unfair. It was wrong. And it was the exact reason he wouldn’t take me.
That, and the fact he was six years older, but considering we’d met years ago, when I was just a kid, I could have cared less.

A knock at the door to my en suite interrupted my thoughts and annoyed me because now I had to pause his song. I was careful, very careful, when it came to concealing my feelings, lest they blame a twenty-five-year-old man for diverting my interests. But sometimes, most times, all I wanted was to blow caution to the wind and confess my love for all to see.

“Mr. Hamel.” The knock was polite, ever so practiced with patience. “A package for you.”

I leapt off the bed and practically tore the door from its hinges in my haste. My father’s assistant, Joe, wasn’t the least fazed. He wore casual clothes, jeans and a T-shirt, because even though there were other wealthy families in the area, my parents weren’t overly ostentatious.

“Thanks, and we’ve gone over this. Just Bennett.”

He smiled, his yellowed teeth showing his age, although his eyes were youthful. How many times this man had kept my secrets, I couldn’t be sure, but it was enough that I considered him more of a friend than an employee. My mother felt the same.

My father… well, he didn’t even think kindly of me most days.

“Yes, but we can’t have anyone thinking we’re up to something.” He laughed, passing off the package and straightening the print tie on his black and white T-shirt as though it were detached. “I wasn’t aware you wore Vans?”

I didn’t. Just like I didn’t like “everything” bagels, obscure poetry, and pieces of music that took me so long to transcribe I felt like my hand was going to detach.

“I’m developing a liking.” When the package was in my hands, I felt a strange sense of excitement. Now I had a reason to go see Max. “Thanks.”

“Your mother is dining with the Goldbergs and your father is on his way there after work.”

“Perfect.”

The estate was so large that if I didn’t want to see them for days, I didn’t need to. But knowing they wouldn’t be home and question which friend I was seeing meant I could make it around the lake unnoticed.

Just past the gated community was a dirt road that circled around one of the larger lakes in our township. After I followed it for a few moments, I spilled out into a series of roads that took me either into the downtown area or to the part clouded with obvious disparity.

That’s where I’d find him.

I’d long gotten over the looks my Audi received when I passed the twin lakes to the bar and grill overlooking a small dock, but sometimes I still noticed. I checked my phone just to make sure, but at this time of day, Max was sure to be there. And as pathetic as it was, seeing him was all I cared about. Everyone else could bury their opinions the way they buried happiness and light. He was the one who had saved me, and that meant more than what would happen if my friends knew the truth.

Jean’s BBQ was quiet during the day, but at night during the summer, when the jazz band played outside, it was louder than anything in Twin Lakes. I parked my car and tucked the package in the crook of my arm, as good an excuse as any to be here. It wasn’t even two yet, so if I had any luck, then there wouldn’t be much of a crowd.

“Hey, Bennett, are you here to see Max?”

Josie was a sweetheart, but unfortunately she’d hated school with a passion. So while I’d prepped for the Ivy Leagues, she’d put in job applications. I always made sure to tip her well on nights when I sat and tried to stay out of his way.

“Yes, is he here?”

“In his office.”

Another patron came in at that moment. Finally, some luck. “I can get there.” I smiled, already headed to the stairs leading to a private small office and an outdoor patio overlooking the lake.

She looked like she wanted to stop me, but she was needed at the front and I wasn’t going to listen anyway. They called me his stalker, and sometimes I thought they were right. I knew Maxwell was fully aware of my following him and, had I really been a bother, all he’d have to do is tell me to stop.

So, happy with the knowledge I was going to be seeing him for the first time in days, I bound up the steps with my offering. I heard him talking and at first I thought he was on the phone, but then I heard his friend’s voice.

Logan was obnoxious to me, which drove me crazy because I knew when he was with their friends, he was kind. If he were nicer to me, maybe we wouldn’t divide Maxwell’s loyalty so often.

I didn’t want to interrupt, I really didn’t, but like the irritating insect I was, I wanted to buzz around Maxwell. I smoothed down my hair and knocked.

There was a pause and then, “Come in.”

Logan sighed heavily. “And here’s your bitch.”

“Logan,” Maxwell said in warning before turning to me. “Hey, sweetheart. How are you?”

He never asked me why I was there; he already knew.

 

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More books from Ana Raine at Changeling Press…

 

Ana is still figuring out what she wants to do with her life, although social work seems to be the most likely. Her best friends are a box of chocolate and her kitten who always sit beside her while she writes. When Ana was in high school, she often wrote about the LGBT community, but now her work is less…innocent. Ana enjoys writing anything and everything, including BDSM, dragons, shifters, magic, and more.

 

 

 

Unknown Desires by Jax L. Kramer #BDSM #GayRomance #LGBT #NewAdult #secondeditions @changelingpress

Unknown Desires

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: BDSM, Contemporary, Gay, New Adult

 

The instant attraction Michael feels toward his new Dominant, Mr. Johns only grows stronger each day. Spending time together in the dungeon is always a fun, unique, and unpredictable experience. Only Mr. Johns can take him to places he’s never known existed. The pleasures of pain and the highs of sub-space were once unimaginable, but now Mr. Johns truly owns him body and soul.

For Michael the most startling emotion is the fear he feels when he’s earned a punishment. Although punishment is meant to be feared, Michael is more afraid of being dismissed. He’s certain each mistake is a step closer to being sent away. No punishment could ever hurt as much as Mr. Johns giving up on him.

Is it possible for Mr. Johns to have any real feelings for Michael, or is has Michael set himself up to be hurt worse than ever before?

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Jax L. Kramer

“Michael, come to me.”

Her voice has that silky tone that always sets my heart to pounding. Today is the day and I have no idea what to expect. I rise gracefully to my feet in one smooth motion as I’ve been taught. Standing straight with my shoulders back, my chest out and chin up, I walk directly to her, my eyes remaining straight ahead.

The man standing with her is taller than I am, about 6’3″. He’s built bigger than I am and I suspect he’s older than me though I’m nineteen so that isn’t a surprise. I can feel his eyes inspecting me.

My nerves are getting the best of me but I don’t move. I control my breathing and wait for my next command. Domme Shannon told me that she had found a male Dominate she believes I’m compatible to serve. I had been stunned and I’m not entirely comfortable with belonging to a man. My family wouldn’t ever accept it. But I’d requested that she find a Dominant she believes will be best for me, regardless of gender.

“Come, Michael,” Domme Shannon says, leading me from the small, sparsely decorated bedroom. She and the man walk casually in front of me, letting me get small glimpses of him. He’s muscular with dark brown hair the same shade as mine. He’s wearing an expensive suit but I can’t spend much time looking him over. I’m led into the office. They sit and I’m instructed to kneel on the floor beside the man.

“Michael Edwards, this is Mr. William Johns. He is looking for a long-term partner and I know that he can give you the guidance you need. Look him in the eyes and answer his questions,” she commands before turning the interview over to him.

Most Doms do not want eye contact. He’s different.

He is nice looking with a strong jaw line. His cologne is pleasant, smelling of some kind of spice. He looks over a folder in his hand, taking his time, letting me wait.

“Michael, most of your hard limits are things that I don’t do.” He pauses as he continues to read. “There are some things that you haven’t tried yet, you marked them as things you would be willing to have demanded of you. Is that correct?” He watches me closely.

“Yes, Sir,” I answer.

“If I demand something and you decide that you can’t tolerate it again, we can discuss changing it to a hard limit.”

This statement requires no reply but my stomach twists as I wonder what he’d like to demand from me. The room falls silent as he looks through the rest of my paperwork and places it back into my folder.

“You are looking for a full time placement and you are employed full time?” His voice is deep and gravelly. It has a sexy quality to it.

“Yes, Sir.”

“What type of work do you do?”

“I work for a construction company, Sir,” I reply. My nerves are increasing as this interview continues and I center myself again.

“If we decide to make this a long term partnership, will you be willing to quit your job?” he asks.

“Yes, Sir,” I answer, but I feel conflicted about it. It’s a great job for someone without an education.

“You’re nineteen?”

“Yes, Sir,” I reply.

“Would you be willing to attend college?”

“Yes, Sir.” This is a surprise. I’d given up the idea of going to college.

“Good,” he says. “If I take you on as my submissive, my rules are not up for debate. I am very strict and trouble will not be tolerated. Punishments will be as severe as required and you knowingly agree to that?”

“Yes, Sir,” I answer. I need this from him and hope fills me unexpectedly. Until now I hadn’t realized how much I needed this. Why do I like the idea of being punished by this man? The idea that something might be wrong with me grows spontaneously.

He looks to Domme Shannon and nods.

“Michael, go wait in the hallway,” she commands.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I answer.

I take a place far enough from the door to allow private conversation. I stand at parade rest with my feet at shoulder width apart, my arms behind my back. They come out of the office half an hour later.

“Michael, gather your belongings. You’ve been accepted into the service of Mr. Johns. Do not disgrace me. You will not be accepted back here if you mess up this opportunity. Understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I answer quickly. “Thank you.”

“You’ve done well and you deserve this. Don’t keep your Dominant waiting.”

I walk briskly to my room and grab my bags. I’ve had them packed since I was told I had an interview today. I hadn’t known what to expect. Another trainee stated that most males are taken by women. I don’t know if that was at their choosing or not. I hadn’t set any such parameters on mine. I wasn’t told until today that a man had been found for me. My feelings, though conflicted, are happy if I’m honest about it.

Carrying my bags, I find Mr. Johns waiting by the door. “Come,” he says simply.

I follow him to a black SUV. Another man waits by the car and he opens the door for Mr. Johns before taking my bags. I wait as he opens the trunk and puts them inside. He then opens the other door for me.

Once in the back seat beside Mr. Johns I sit straight as I’ve been taught. The silence stretches and I begin to inspect my fingernails. It’s an old nervous habit. Mr. Johns’ hand covers mine, stopping my fidgeting. Electricity shoots through me and my breath catches.

“Look at me, boy,” he says and there is a subtle difference in his tone now, strong and demanding. “I expect eye contact unless I tell you otherwise, and no fidgeting or I’ll punish you.”

I meet his eyes for the second time. They are a deep blue and his dark brown hair has a slight curl to it. At a guess he’s in his early thirties. He looks a little like Liam Hemsworth, only more muscular. He is a handsome man.

“You will call me Sir or Mr. Johns. I will not repeat an order. You are to obey any command given immediately. I will give you a copy of the household rules when we get home. Failure to follow them will result in punishment whether you are aware of the rule or not. I suggest learning them quickly. I will add rules specific to you as I get to know you better. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good,” he replies. “Do you have any questions?”

“Yes, Sir,” I answer. My voice sounds nervous even to me as I concentrate on not picking at my fingers. “I was wondering how I’m to pay for college if you want me to quit working?”

“I will pay for you to go to college,” he answers. “I want you to be well educated and you’re still a young man.”

“I’m not sure I would be comfortable with that, Sir,” I answer.

He nods. “You don’t need to be.”

My head is swimming. “I feel like a prostitute.”

“No, you’re not being paid for sex. I want you at home and I want you educated. It’s a win-win for us both. Don’t over think it. I’ll go over the classes with you and decide what will benefit my schedule.” He watches me silently for a few minutes. “I will not waste my time or yours if I feel this isn’t going to work out. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir.” I wonder what else this arrangement will entail…

 

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Find more titles by Jax L. Kramer at Changeling Press…

 

Jax L. Kramer grew up listening to tales told around the campfire under the stars with the hooting of an owl piercing the night. Jax now lives in Oklahoma and has a daughter, mother and sister who are supportive of the stories crafted by her. Now you’re invited to join the campfire circle. Hurry…it’s not polite to make the Storyteller wait!

 

 

Invincible by Beth D. Carter #NewRelease #Suspense #RomanceBooks @evernightpub @BethDCarter

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ABOUT THE BOOK

Lee Masterson is a gun for hire. He’s shut himself off to almost everything, existing with the memory of a woman he loved fiercely but had to let go for her safety. But his carefully constructed walls are shattered when a threat is made against Lidah Wilcox’s life, sending him back to Kentucky in an desperate effort to protect her.

The hole in Lidah’s heart never fully closed when Lee died, and when he suddenly resurrects from the grave, she’s overwhelmed with emotion and memories.  Twenty-two years of emptiness lie between them, and she’s unprepared for the love that comes surging back to life.

Lee will do anything to protect Lidah, yet he can’t walk away for a second time. Danger brought them back together, but can they keep each other safe when it stalks them again?

 

What’s the signature song for Invincible?

Definitely “Feel Invincible” by Skillet. The first time I ever heard the song I immediately thought of my hero, Lee Masterson, and the fantastic lyrics drove the story plot.

What is your writing process? Do you outline, write by the seat of your pants (Pantser) or a combination of both?

I’m more of a pantser but every once in a while, I’ll list chapters and a sentence or two on what needs to happen in that chapter.

What inspired you to write Invincible?

Lee Masterson, the hero of Invincible, first appeared in my book “Take Aim and Reload” which was book 3 in the Forgotten Rebels MC series. He was also in book 4 “Warrior”. When I was writing that book Lee kept hammering at me for his own story. He’s such an interesting character I had to comply.

Was there as specific part of the story that you absolutely loved writing as well as not enjoyed writing?

I loved coming up with how Lee finds out Lidah is in trouble. He gets this text message threatening her, that he may be invincible…but is she? It’s one of my favorite scenes in all of my books!  As for not enjoying, I would say there’s not really any scene that’s got a negative vibe. This story really flew out of my fingers and I really enjoyed writing it. I’m already under way writing book 2 in the World of Danger series.

 

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EXCERPT

He headed into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge, popping the top before making his way to the living room. The cool marble tile gave way to plush, cream colored carpet and he sank down into his comfortable, cushiony sofa before toeing off his shoes and propping his feet up on the coffee table. The sparse decoration fit his lifestyle, since he was constantly on the move. He took a long swig of beer and leaned his head back. Exhaustion descended over him and he closed his eyes. The thought of how much longer he could continue in his line of work was an abstract concept that solidified with every job completed. The simple fact was he was getting far too old for the same old shit.

“Lidah?”

“Yes, Lee?”

“Play the tape.”

A second later, a soft voice came through his speakers. A memory from long ago that always managed to soothe him whenever weariness took root in his soul. For an infinitesimal moment, the world fell away to transport him back in time. He could still see her, the one woman he could never forget, frozen forever as a teenager who looked up at him with love in her eyes.

“Hi Lee, it’s Lidah. I was wondering if you’d like to, um, go to the Sadie Hawkins dance with me. ‘Cause, you know, girls have to ask boys. All right. No worries if you don’t want to. Um. Okay. Bye.”

Of course, he’d accepted. He had a crush on her the moment he’d laid eyes on her his first day of high school. If life had dealt him a better hand, he would have married her one day, and the thought still broke his heart.

“Lee,” Lidah the computer said, breaking into his melancholy memory. “You have a message coming through from an unknown IEP.”

Lee opened his eyes and sat up a little straighter. He placed his beer on the coffee table. “Spam?”

“No. It’s encrypted.”

“From JD?”

“No.”

“Viruses?”

“None. It is addressed to you, marked as urgent.”

Suddenly wary, he dug out his phone from his front pocket. “Send it to my cell.”

His phone beeped, and he swiped it to check the message. A black screen appeared, and a sentence rolled across it. “They say you’re invincible.”

Lee frowned. “What the hell?”

The screen went dark, only to be replaced with a picture. A photo of a woman, and although time had brought maturity and wisdom to her face, Lee recognized her immediately. Lidah! Layered red hair looking like fire in the sunlight. Kindness shining from her brown eyes. The living Lidah had developed into a beautiful woman, but just as that thought flashed through his head another message came through.

“Is she?”

 

ABOUT BETH D. CARTER

I like writing about the very ordinary girl thrust into extraordinary circumstances, so my heroines will probably never be lawyers, doctors or corporate highrollers.  I try to write characters who aren’t cookie cutters and push myself to write complicated situations that I have no idea how to resolve, forcing me to think outside the box.  I love writing characters who are real, complex and full of flaws, heroes and heroines who find redemption through love. I love to hear from readers so I’ve made it really easy to find me on the web:

Twitter / Facebook / Instagram / BookBub / Amazon Author Page

http://bethdcarter.blogspot.com/

 

Nothing Else Matters by Peri Elizabeth Scott #Contemporary #secondchances #NewRelease #RomanceBooks @evernightpub

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Publisher: Evernight Publishing
Heat Level: 3

Claire and Liam had a good thing going until he walks out of her life. Being dumped without warning is devastating enough, discovering she isn’t pregnant leaves her without even a part of him.

Withdrawing from everyone, she moves to another city and immerses herself in work, the better to forget Liam. Not that it’s working. Claire is a one-woman man, to her despair.

Back stateside after an unexpectedly long deployment, security contractor Liam Cafferty has accepted the truth: walking out on Claire makes him a coward. Thinking it for the best, given his dangerous profession, doesn’t cut it. She should have been given the choice.

With the biggest heart of any woman he’s known, he’s hopeful she might take him back and makes it his new mission to convince her.

Claire must decide what matters: her pride or taking another chance on Liam—and love.

 

Buy Links:

Evernight: https://www.evernightpublishing.com/

Bookstrand: https://www.bookstrand.com/nothing-else-matters-mf

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07QMPFB53

Barnes & Noble: https://tinyurl.com/y33va2hf

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/nothing-else-matters-15

 

Nothing Else Matters

 

Excerpt:

The streets were full of people as she used her phone to arrange an Uber. Small groups with youthful faces, couples, and the occasional single individual moved along, their destinations unknown but likely the restaurants that crowded downtown, or maybe a club later on after dusk fell. The camaraderie left her cold, and with some desperation to escape, she scanned the curb for her lift.

Maybe she was indeed crazy, choosing to cut herself off from everyone, cutting ties with her old life, all to forget Liam. Because, newsflash, it wasn’t working. She was like one of those historical romance novel heroines who languished and withered into old age after losing a beau. Whatever empty spaces that opened up in her head, past all her attempts to fill them, Liam snuck in.

While she waited, she opened her messages, trying to shut out the people and noise around her that were reminders of a different life. There weren’t many on the phone. She had no one local to give the number to, outside of work, sad commentary. She was more like one half of those werewolf or vampire couples who wasted away without their mate.

Joanne’s number came up several times, and there was also a text. Hoping nothing was wrong, she opened it.

Haven’t been able to reach u b/phone and u haven’t responded to vms. Assuming u r busy but u should know Liam is looking for u. Call me!

Suddenly lax fingers nearly let the device slip to the pavement, and she tightened her grip. Rereading the text, she remembered to breathe and swayed on her feet.

“Claire?” His familiar voice, hard on the heels of Jo’s text, was surreal. Had she conjured him?

She resisted the urge to spin wildly and shriek at the top of her lungs. It couldn’t be. She wasn’t prepared. How was this happening?

His SUV was nose-in to the curb, the back end blocking traffic and already, impatient drivers were honking. But her attention was on the tall, broad-shouldered man rounding the hood.

“Claire.”

He hadn’t changed at all. Unless one considered the burnished skin and a leaner look. Her stare took in his appearance in minute detail, and something in her chest lurched his way, even as her feet tried to carry her in the other direction.

Hand shaking, she held it up as if to ward off an advancing horde and shook her head. “Go away!”

About the author:

Peri Elizabeth Scott aka Allyson Young lives in cottage country, Manitoba, Canada where she and her husband pretend to work well together in their seasonal business.

She has always enjoyed the written word, and after reading an erotic romance, quite by mistake, decided to try her hand at penning one. That was followed by a mix of spicy (Ally) and sweet (Peribeth) romances in various genres as well as a post-apocalyptic adventure without a lick of romance by Peribeth.

A bestselling Amazon author, a hybrid, and a coauthor, as of April 2019 she has published eight series and several standalones, with others in the works.

www.perielizabethscott.com

https://www.facebook.com/sweetnspicyauthor/

Her Bad Boy Doctor by LM Spangler #RomanceBooks #NewRelease #contemporary @authlmspangler @evernightpub

Her Bad Boy Doctor.jpg

 

He was the high school bad boy… and the boy she fell in love with.

Sheriff Savannah “Savvy” Douglas fell in love with a bad boy who walked out of her life. Ten years did little to dull the feelings she had for him. But a year ago he stopped calling and texting, leaving her with nothing but questions.

Dr. Brody Collins was about to return to the town he grew up in… and the town where the love of his life still resided. He’d broken all communications with her for a year when his past caught up with him. But he was ready to rectify the situation.

Will Savvy forgive him and give them the chance they’d lost out on ten years ago?

Buy Links:

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2VaFuBw

Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2ILldfj

Amazon CA: https://amzn.to/2ZglBZ3

Amazon AU: https://amzn.to/2ZiU5Km

Evernight Publishing: http://bit.ly/2v9NQKX

Smashwords: http://bit.ly/2IqYGVJ

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2Uqauc8

Excerpt:

A small smile crossed his face though it never reached his eyes. “I can explain.”

“Explain what, Brody?” The question came out harsh, even to my own ears, but I plowed on. “A year. Not a text, phone call, letter, or f*ck you. Nothing. You ditch me and expect me to be happy to see you.”

“Savvy,” he began, stepping toward me.

I shoved him back until he fell onto the same rocker he had been sitting in when I arrived. “Don’t you dare “Savvy” me. The name is Sheriff Douglas.”

He held up his hands. “I know you’re upset.”

The anger that had been simmering became a full-on boil. “F*ck you, Brody. What? Did you find yourself a woman and couldn’t bring yourself to tell me? Did you go on a year-long bender after graduation?” I turned my back on him—perhaps the hardest thing I’d ever done. My heart lurched and tears burned my eyes. I wouldn’t cry in front of him. I wouldn’t!

“You are so damn pigheaded, Savannah. But I can understand why you’re upset. I’ll come back later when you’ve had a chance to clear your head. Then maybe you’ll listen to me.”

With that, he sidestepped me and made his way to his SUV. He opened the door and paused. “I do love you.”

With a Herculean effort, I managed to hold the tears in until he was out of sight. Those tears burned a hot path down my cheeks, as I did exactly what I didn’t want to do.

Cry a river over him.

I stood on the porch, facing the lake. The sun shimmered over its surface, but was a blur to me. The shimmer became diamonds dancing atop the water as the torrent of tears slowed and finally burned out.

Leaving me raw…

And empty.

About LM:

She live close to the Maryland border in South Central Pennsylvania. Her husband is wonderfully supportive of her in all aspects of her life. She has a son who is currently serving our country in the U.S. Navy. Her daughter is still in school. She’s blessed to have the three of them in her life.

From a young age, she remember burying her nose in a book. A love that her mother and father passed onto her brother and herself. From her passion for reading sprang her love of writing. Her mind is so often full of story ideas from the wildly paranormal to contemporary. She has notebooks lying about with story outlines and character descriptions. A song or TV show can spark an idea which circles her mind until she puts the idea on paper.

When she’s not writing, she enjoys spending time with her family, burying her nose in a book, and watching a vast variety of television shows from crime dramas to 1970’s game to car restoration shows. She even dabbles in crafting. Her favorite craft would be jewelry making. Nothing like creating wearable art.

Social Media Links:

Facebook- https://www.facebook.com/lmspangler

Twitter: https://twitter.com/authlmspangler

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

May Day by Bryl R. Tyne #NewRelease #SecondEdition #GayRomance #multiplepartners @changelingpress @Bryl

May Day

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Marteeka Karland
Genres/Themes: Contemporary, Gay, Multiple Partners, Second editions, Silver Fox

 

His forty-ninth birthday approaching, Ed is expecting nothing more than his usual stiff drink and an anonymous fuck in the back room of Yancy’s Crossings. What he never expected was to be picked up by two college students and taken for a ride that would change his life forever.

 

Get it Today at Changeling Press

pre-order for April 26th at retailers

   

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Bryl R. Tyne

May. For me, it was the worst month of the year.

“I’m taking the rest of the week off, Sue. And no — no emergency calls.” I couldn’t help but notice the look she threw over the rim of her glasses. Of course, every tenant and his or her neighbor would be calling in for AC maintenance before Friday; today was only Wednesday… like I said, it was May. “It’s my birthday tomorrow, for Pete’s sake.”

As she slapped shut the file she was skimming, I hesitated at the door. “Cut an old man some slack, would you?”

“You ain’t old, Ed. You just need to get laid.”

A hundred needles pierced the back of my neck, and from the heat, I was sure the sudden change in color finding its way to my ears was more than noticeable. But that was Sue for you. Great boss, don’t get me wrong. She just never outgrew her tomboy years. From the warmth now filling my face, the flush was nowhere near receding. Damn my Irish complexion. With my back still toward her desk, I asked, “May I have the rest of the week off, Boss?”

Hand on the doorknob, I waited. Her silent deliberations had always irked me, but I’d paid attention enough over the years to know she needed those certain moments to think she was still in control. After all, she was my boss. If she needed something that simple to make her happy, I was more than happy to accommodate.

After clearing her throat, she voiced her decision. “I can hold down the fort until the weekend. Randy’ll take it from there, but you make sure you’re in ship-shape come Monday morning. You hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, opening the office door, after a pause to wonder just what she thought I did in my free time. Lord knows, forty-eight — make that forty-nine come tomorrow — and still eligible meant only one thing. I may as well start shopping for retirement living — with a single bed. I reached over and snagged a couple brochures from the table under the curtained window on my way out. Reading material for later, of course.

“And, Ed – Edwin…!”

Body halfway out the door, I popped my head back inside the office.

“Make sure you leave your keys at the bar.” Her wink told me either I was a fool for thinking I’d pulled the perfect ruse all these years or she was a psychic. “And happy birthday. Now, go on. Get out of here.”

 

More from Bryl R. Tyne at Changeling Press