New Release Blitz: Waiting for Raine by Layla Dorine #LGBTQ #paranormalromance @ninestarpress @GoIndiMarketing

Title: Waiting for Raine

Series: Comet Lake Chronicles, Book One

Author: Layla Dorine

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 09/27/2021

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male, Male/Male Menage

Length: 91700

Genre: Paranormal, LGBTQIA+, shifters, mates, author, menage, hurt-comfort, disability, intersex, pregnancy, offspring

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Description

Every Gathering, Raine hides from potential mates, knowing that in a society where tri-bonds were the expectation, a wolf wanting a mate all to themselves was an anomaly.

Enter Gabriel. They’d met two years before, both left disappointed when no bondmark appeared on their wrists at that time. Gabriel’s been hunting, but there’s been no sign of Raine, outside of the one brief visit that didn’t end the way he’d hoped for.

Fast forward to the present Gathering. He’s stumbled onto Aiden, a wolf miserable in his own pack due to the way he’s treated. Born with a disability, he knows he can’t keep up, but no one has taken the time to teach him where his true potential lies—until Gabriel that is. Gabriel’s protective instincts kick in almost immediately.

Now Gabriel has one wolf he desperately wants to care for and another who has been hiding from him. Unfortunately, it might not be a challenge Gabriel is up for.

Excerpt

Waiting for Raine
Layla Dorine© 2021
All Rights Reserved

Midsummer, or, as most of the pack called the season, matesummer. Raine watched the vehicles pulling onto the grounds. Large motorhomes and SUVs packed with members of other packs flooded their lands for the gathering. Resting his cheek against the bark of the tree he was sitting in, Raine grumbled a stream of curses, a nearby squirrel angrily chattering his own stream of profanities back at him.

“Why does it always…have to be…a tree?” Huffing and grumbling preceded his brother Noah’s appearance beside him, a sour expression on his face as he gripped the branch overhead.

Shrugging, Raine looked away from his annoyed gaze and back toward the impending invasion. As soon as they got settled, all those foreign wolf scents would fill their lands and linger for weeks afterward. “I like trees.”

“I like trees too—to pee on, not to climb. We’re wolves, and wolves are supposed to keep their paws on the ground.”

“There are exceptions to all things.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What are you doing here, Noah? Shouldn’t you be curled up with Evan and Holden in your little love nest?”

He knew he’d failed to keep the bitterness out of his voice the moment his brother’s eyes narrowed at him and wolf amber momentarily replaced the gray.

“And yet I’m here. I wonder why that is.”

“That’s what I’m asking you.”

“I came to deliver a message, not that you’ll care. That big brown-and-white wolf from the northwestern pack is looking for you. I believe he said his name is Gabriel.”

For a moment, Raine couldn’t breathe. It was like Noah had sucked all the air out of the forest and left him digging claws into the branch of the tree to ground himself.

“How’d he look?” Raine gritted out between clenched teeth.

“At first glance, you’d never know he was in a fight that nearly killed him.”

“No one asked him to do that.”

“With the way he was always watching you and trailing you, there was no way anyone was going to tell him not to.”

Sighing, Raine scrubbed a hand over his face, his shoulder aching from how heavily he was leaning against the trunk. Butterflies and fear warred in his belly, clenched tight to keep from vomiting up his last meal. He would not think about the gathering two years past, or the mistake he’d nearly made in allowing himself to be claimed.

“Saw him struggle to lift his backpack with his left arm. It’s a wonder he can use it at all. I was certain he was going to lose it with as mangled as it was.”

“Shut up, Noah.”

Of course his brother didn’t listen. That was part of his charm. He was stubborn that way, always had been, even back when they were young pups and Raine steadfastly refused to have anything to do with their father, Noah’s mother, or the rest of their siblings. Alone. Scared. Grieving over the death of his mother, he’d become a snarling, feral thing, living in the small apartment at the back of the house that he and his mother had lived in for as long as he could remember. He’d bitten everyone who approached until Noah.

“My guess is he was still rehabbing it last year, which was why he didn’t show up to the gathering then,” Noah continued on, as if Raine hadn’t interrupted. “You should talk to him. It’s the least you can do.”

His brother was right, not that he planned to listen. Nearly going down that road once was bad enough. Never again. His mother had taught him better.

“He was alone, if that helps any. No mating marks on his wrists either, so it’s safe to say he’s still single.”

“So.”

“Stop pretending you don’t give a shit and take the second chance you’re being offered. I doubt you’ll get a third one.”

“Why can’t you stop meddling and drop it? For fuck’s sake, Noah, I’m not interested!”

“Could have fooled me, what with the way you called to check on him every day after he first went home.”

“And then I stopped, which should tell you something.”

“Yeah, that you’re clinging to an irrational notion put in your head by an irrational woman, who…”

“Do not talk about my mom!”

“Why? Afraid of hearing the truth?”

Snarling, Raine ripped a furrow in the wood. “Leave, Noah, before I forget how much I love you and throw you out of this tree.”

“You’re ruining your life; you know that, right?”

“No. Taking a mate and trusting that I would be their one and only would ruin my life. I won’t do it, Noah, and I wish you’d stop asking me to.”

“I’ll stop asking when you come to your senses and see that there is room in our hearts to love more than one person,” Noah insisted, not for the first time. In fact, he was sick of hearing it.

“Not equally.”

“Bullshit!”

“Do you really believe Evan and Holden love you as much as they love each other?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then you’re a fool. They had three years together before they met you. Three years of memories, moments, and promises. No matter what you do, you can never catch up. It will never be equal.”

“If that’s all you think love is, then I pity you, Raine, I really do.”

The look on Noah’s face, disappointed, sad, left Raine momentarily upset that he’d put it there. Until he thought about his mother, her tears, the way she’d looked in the mirror, asking what was wrong with her that his father couldn’t love her. Asking why she’d never be enough. He’d spent his early years with a broken ghost who’d hug him one moment and scream at him for wanting to play with his siblings the next.

He’ll drown you the moment I’m not around to protect you, she’d rage, grabbing him by the arm, shaking him hard enough his teeth clacked together. Sometimes she’d forget her strength, or claws, leaving deep, bleeding marks in his upper arm or accidentally dislocating it. It had happened so many times he could do it at will now—a constant reminder of her pain.

“I don’t want your pity.”

“No, you never want anything, do you?” Noah glanced away from him, over to the slowly filling grove where the gathering would take place.

“Wrong. I want to be left alone.”

“Fine, wish granted, but I want you to remember this moment in ten years when you’re alone and sorry you blew your opportunity with someone who really and truly loves you.”

With those last words hanging in the air between them, Noah lowered himself to the ground, shifted, shook, and disappeared into the forest. Asshole! He’d be the one to see, in ten years, when he was living in an add-on apartment or back at Mom and Dad’s after his two mates decided there was no longer room for him in the relationship.

If only there was a way to ensure a pairing would never become a tri-bond. Then he’d happily go to Gabriel and explore the possibilities.

Another idea took hold then, as he watched awnings popping up on campers and people pitching tents. Maybe he should go to Gabriel anyway, talk to him and get it out of his system. Maybe they’d prove to be incompatible, and he could stop daydreaming about what it would be like to belong to someone. Hell, maybe he was just looking for Raine to curse him out about the fight. Hearing Gabriel say he hated him would go a long way toward helping him to stop dreaming about the man.

Decision made, he dove off the branch, somersaulting twice before hitting the ground in a crouch, sniffing.

Rabbit, squirrel, skunk, deer, moss, dirt, pine, rotting leaves, cinnamon…

Cinnamon?

That didn’t belong out here.

Nutmeg, dough, sugar…

Those definitely didn’t belong out here.

His nose led him back to the trail, fully aware that following it might mean running into strangers and pairs already getting a jump on the frolicking and fooling around portion of the event. A bunch of pups would be born ten months from now; that was for damn sure. And then what? Some pairs would end up trapped by those stupid bond marks. Others would raise their pups alone. Hell, he even knew of occasions where one parent took half the litter and the other raised the rest, siblings who never saw, or even knew, of one another until they met at a gathering, stunned to discover someone else who looked like them.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Layla Dorine lives among the sprawling prairies of Midwestern America, in a house with more cats than people. She loves hiking, fishing, swimming, martial arts, camping out, photography, cooking, and dabbling with several artistic mediums. In addition, she loves to travel and visit museums, historic, and haunted places.

Layla got hooked on writing as a child, starting with poetry and then branching out, and she hasn’t stopped writing since. Hard times, troubled times, the lives of her characters are never easy, but then what life is? The story is in the struggle, the journey, the triumphs and the falls. She writes about artists, musicians, loners, drifters, dreamers, hippies, bikers, truckers, hunters and all the other folks that she’s met and fallen in love with over the years. Sometimes she writes urban romance and sometimes its aliens crash landing near a roadside bar. When she isn’t writing, or wandering somewhere outdoors, she can often be found curled up with a good book and a kitty on her lap.

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Release Blitz: A Song for His Heart by M.C. Roth #eroticromance #gay #multiplepartners @firstforromance @pridepublishing

A Song for His Heart by M.C. Roth

General Release Date: 28th September 2021

Word Count: 78,359
Book Length: SUPER NOVEL
Pages: 264

Genres:

BONDAGE AND BDSM
CELEBRITIES
CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
GAY
GLBTQI
MÉNAGE AND MULTIPLE PARTNERS

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Book Description

It only takes one rock star to crash the perfect honeymoon, but it might take two to save it.

Ian and Trent’s honeymoon is supposed to be perfect, but before they even make it to Miami, Mac—Ian’s manager and best friend—is already interfering. As soon as the plane lands, Ian starts to drift away from Trent, falling back into his closeted habits and disappearing for days to record a new album, leaving Trent alone in an unfamiliar country.

Trent is at his breaking point when Ian tries to disappear again after three days away. He can’t be the househusband Ian obviously needs. Trent is ready to collect his bags and head back to the airport when he overhears Mac’s secret, which threatens to turn his life upside down.

Reader advisory: This book contains a fistfight precipitated by sexual assault/forced kiss, MMM relationships, alcohol consumption/intoxication and mentions of past alcohol abuse. It is best read as the sequel to The Drumbeat of His Heart.

Excerpt

The roar of the twin turbofan engines burst against Trent’s ears like a koala calling for a mate. The sound was unexpected, coming from such a beautiful thing that seemed so innocent and sluggish. And while the plane was a lethargic beast on the ground, one that could hardly make a turn on its own without falling off the thick tarmac, it transformed into a serpent the moment the engines came to life.

Trent rocked back into the padded seat and clutched the armrest in a tight grip as his stomach dropped to the vicinity of his ankles. It was like the worst kind of roller coaster—one that he would ride fearlessly as a kid, only realizing later that its rusted parts were held together by bits of chewing gum.

He could hardly breathe as his ears pressurized, then popped, only to pressurize again. His mouth was dry, and his tongue was stiff with the need to hurl his light dinner all over the back of the seat that was tight against his knees. But the food couldn’t make it past his throat with his stomach so low to the floor.

He glanced at the view through the tiny oval window that looked much too flimsy to handle the same forces that were battering his ears. There were two panes, and one had an actual hole in the bottom as if it were already prepared for the doom that awaited the passengers, himself included.

It was beautiful, though. The blinking lights of the city looked so similar to the stars, and they had started to meld together into one sphere of never-ending sky. The buildings that had looked so tall while standing on the ground now looked no higher than a sheet of Bristol board. The lake was lost, as were the stream of cars along blurred highways.

The moon was barely a sliver of light, but it was so bright that he had to blink to clear the spots from his vision. The silver beams illuminated a white fluff of clouds as they fluttered over the gleaming wing.

“See? It’s not so bad,” said Ian from the seat next to him. He moved his hand, so warm and comforting, to soothe Trent’s. “That was a good take-off too. Nice and smooth.” His smile was completely at ease and his grip soft as the plane trembled around them.

“I think I’m gonna puke.” Trent gripped his stomach as the wing dipped again and they loomed sideways over the city of lights. How are we even in the air at this angle? He waited for gravity to grip them in a lasso and tear them back down to the earth.

“Smile,” said Ian urgently as he leaned forward to rifle through the seat pouch. There were a few magazines that had probably been touched by hundreds of hands, as well as the day’s newspaper, in the small elastic compartment. Ian found a slim white bag between the pages of one of the magazines.

“What?” Trent breathed deeply through his nose and forced his mouth shut as he slid his eyes closed. His mind whirled at the same speed as the plane as it continued to climb. Were they still sideways right now and slipping down to their doom? Maybe if they climbed high enough, he wouldn’t feel it when they hit the inevitable bottom.

“T, baby, take a deep breath for me and smile,” said Ian as he pressed his hand gently to Trent’s chest at the level of his heart. It was enough to ground Trent into taking another breath, even as he quivered beneath the touch.

“If you smile, you can’t gag, so you won’t puke. Here.” There was a shiver of sound as something slid beside him.

When he opened his eyes again with a forced grin on his face, the window shutter was thankfully closed. Without the dark blankness looking back at him, he could almost imagine being on a bus and not a massive plane that was soaring precariously in the sky. He could imagine that the tiny bumps were little potholes along the road, and the roar was a never-ending layer of slow strips carved into the asphalt.

Ian was right there, smiling and rubbing his chest until his warm palm rested over Trent’s stomach. Ian’s blue eyes were bright in the low light and his full lips were pulled back into a smile as he held the sick bag out to Trent. The ink carved into Ian’s skull was blocked by the black baseball cap that he had insisted on wearing to the airport. The sight of Ian, so beautiful and familiar, settled something deep within Trent.

Trent grabbed the sick bag and slipped it back into the pouch between the layers of magazines, leaving a corner out so it would still be in reach if his stomach started to turn. When he leaned back, it lined his lips up perfectly with his new husband’s, and he felt the steady tug that drew him in. Ian pulled back in surprise before their lips could meet, his gaze darting around the large compartment of passengers.

There was a child in the next row who was repeatedly kicking the seat ahead of him while playing with the touch screen that was built into the back of the headrest. It was a great idea to pass the time, but the way the child was hacking away at it was obviously driving the person in front insane. They looked back a few times, glancing at the father, who had his phone in his hand as he played what appeared to be a repetitive assassin game, while managing to stay completely oblivious to his son. There were others looking out of their windows or resting with their heads back with their eyes closed.

“Sorry.” Trent smiled, not sorry at all. “I know you don’t like PDA, but it’s our honeymoon.” Saying Ian didn’t like it was an understatement. The man was simultaneously terrified and repulsed with the idea of PDA. It blew Trent’s mind that this was the same man who had an exhibitionist streak that was larger than the aeroplane they were on.

“I love you. You know that,” said Ian as he stumbled over his quiet words. “But when I kiss you, I want to do it right. I can’t do it right with a kid staring at me.” Ian cut his focus over to the little boy, who had given up smacking the touch screen and had started pushing the armrest up and down, his feet never stopping once.

“It didn’t stop you in a public pool,” said Trent with a smirk. “Or in the back seat of your rental when we parked at the baseball diamond.” After renting a Hyundai on his first visit, Ian had learned his lesson and had stuck to large vehicles after that. It had taken a lot of convincing before Trent had found himself on his hands and knees in the back seat of a jeep.

“That was different.” Ian crossed his arms before he leaned back in his chair. His long legs bumped the seat, so he splayed them wide, with one knee spilling out into the aisle and the other taking up a third of Trent’s minimal space. “Why didn’t you let me treat you to first class again? The leg room back here is atrocious.”

Trent shifted in his seat and let Ian change the subject. His own knees were very firmly pressed into a cushioned backrest, while still being off to the side. It was a tight fit for him, and even worse for Ian, but there was no way that he could have allowed them to spend an extra two thousand dollars to get first-class tickets.

“If I really had my way, we would have driven. I may not own a car, but I can drive,” said Trent as he tried again to get comfortable.

“And if I had my way, we would’ve done this months ago…before we got married,” said Ian as he fiddled with the gold band on his finger. The metal was smooth and sleek, and it fit him perfectly. Trent had overestimated the size when he had bought it, and it had barely stayed on Ian’s thumb without falling off. When Trent had found out that Ian had resized it, he had pretended to be furious, telling Ian that it was supposed to be a cock ring, not one for his finger.

“Are you excited?” asked Ian, turning in his seat as much as he could. He bounced one leg in the aisle and had started a steady beat against his thigh. His ring flashed in the artificial light with every movement.

“Yes, of course,” said Trent as he swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. “I’m super excited.” Luckily, he managed to keep most of the terror out of his voice. Miami was huge, hot, hip and expensive. It was also everything that Trent wasn’t.

He fiddled with his ring that matched Ian’s. The skin under the band was faded and pale from months of being shaded from the sun. It had stayed on his finger from the day before Christmas, when Ian had proposed, until the morning of their wedding on August eighteenth. By then, he’d had to soap up his finger to even get the band to budge.

The wedding had been a small affair, with only Trent’s closest family and his best friend, Candace. Ian had refused to invite anyone from his family, and Trent had wholeheartedly agreed to keep that rock buried as long as possible. It would have been next to impossible to get in touch with Ian’s mother anyway, as she lived entirely off the grid. He had been a little bit surprised when Ian had refused to invite his fellow band members, but he’d explained that he didn’t want them all to feel obligated to fly in for it. Trent’s tiny town probably wouldn’t have been able to handle them anyway.

The ceremony had been short and sweet, which had made it absolutely perfect in Trent’s eyes. There was nothing worse than sitting through a two-hour wedding service that included an actual communion. There had been no speeches, no fancy photographer and no dancing afterwards, just a simple dinner at home. Ian had still insisted on carrying Trent over the threshold like some kind of creamy-thighed bridezilla, though.

“What is your house like?” Trent asked as he trailed his fingers along the arm rest. He’d seen pictures on Ian’s phone of some of the different rooms, but it had compounded into a disarticulated checkerboard in his imagination.

Ian had talked about the house a lot, but his stories usually revolved around the infinity pool in the back yard, leading Trent to believe that the man spent most of his time in Miami swimming. Now that they were married, Ian was spending most of his time off work at Trent’s, but the moment Trent had secured some vacation time for his honeymoon, they’d booked the flight.

“You are going to love it,” said Ian, taking a deep breath before he dove in. “It’s about four thousand square feet, I think, with three bedrooms and five bathrooms. There is a drum room in the basement that’s pretty epic, and a theatre room for rainy days. I think you’ll like the pool the best, though, and maybe the hot tub.” A nostalgic look crossed Ian’s face as he spoke about the house.

“Three bedrooms sounds like two bedrooms too many—or do you pick a different one to sleep in every other night?” Trent asked. The seatbelt sign clicked off above their heads, but the no smoking sign stayed glowing red and orange. He kept his belt pulled tight, even as Ian undid his and adjusted his seat back a few scant centimetres.

“Nah,” said Ian as he looked up and down the aisle. “I hope they bring out drinks soon.” He looked back to Trent and settled his hand over Trent’s clenched one. “I’ve only slept in the one bedroom, actually, but I converted another into an office and the third into a library.”

“But you don’t read. I could hardly get you to sit still long enough to get through that magazine, and it was about cars.” Trent crossed his arms and played with his wedding ring, spinning it endlessly.

“Not books, T…records. I told you about my record collection.” Ian looked away as the hostess interrupted them, handing them two drinks after Ian’s quick request. Trent took the cold plastic cup gratefully and sipped at the ginger ale. The bubbles flowed over his tongue and down his throat, making his mouth momentarily numb. He glanced at Ian’s cup, hoping the same liquid was inside.

“Just cola, plain cola,” said Ian as he caught the look. He tilted the cup back and gulped it down in three swallows. “I’m so thirsty, though. I should’ve finished that water before customs, but I got distracted pointing everything out to you.” He placed the empty cup on the small plastic tray that folded down from the seat in front.

“I just couldn’t figure it out.” Trent shook his head. “Why would someone buy that many cigarettes and that much overpriced booze, just to take on a plane? Head to the closest box store and you’ll pay half the price, and you still won’t pay duty if you limit yourself.” Although, strangely enough, after looking at the same neatly organized cigarette cartons for three hours, they had started to look downright delicious.

“A lot can happen if you get stuck in the airport for eighteen hours,” said Ian as he waved down the stewardess for another drink, finishing that one too. “The first time I got stuck, there was a ten-hour layover. It was with the band, and I still drank back then. We just drank the entire time, and I got so wasted that I don’t even remember the flight at all. I just fell asleep in Arizona and woke up in Buffalo.” He slipped the newly emptied cup into the first one so that they were stacked neatly in the small circle on the tray.

“Then there was the England flight,” Ian continued. “We spent a whole day in the airport because the plane had to be repaired. Twenty-four hours of sitting in a plastic chair and getting hit on by this random chick was enough to make me want to turn straight, just so I could fuck her and get her to shut up.” He shuddered. “Man, I’m still thirsty. Maybe they can just give me a two-litre?”

Trent laughed, shaking his head as Ian caught the attention of the hostess for the third time. Her bright smile hadn’t dimmed and a shimmer of recognition had floated over her face. Trent had seen the look before when someone realized who Ian was. Their eyes would widen just a fraction, and he would see the gears turning in their heads before they decided that yep, that was somebody famous.

Ian slipped her an American twenty, and she passed him a few cans without a second thought. She was about to step away when she paused and leaned back in.

“There are a few spots in first class that are open if you are interested in moving up. I’ll see if there are two seats together.” Her smile widened as Ian nodded more times than was strictly necessary.

“Yes, please get me out of these tiny seats,” said Ian. “It’s his fault anyway. He insisted on economy to get the full experience.” He pointed an accusing thumb at Trent. Trent wilted in his chair as the stewardess chuckled.

“And how are you enjoying the experience?” Her smile lifted at one side, revealing her perfect white teeth. Trent took a second look at her, from her broad form to her strawberry hair that was pulled back into a perfect bun.

“It’s, um…cosy.” Trent tried to shrug, but his shoulders were pressed so close to Ian’s that the movement hardly registered. He shifted in the seat, but his knee came up and struck the small plastic tray, sending the cups to the floor.

She laughed, a high tittering sound that sent a shiver down Trent’s spine with how familiar it was. “I’ll be right back.” She disappeared up the aisle and ducked behind the grey curtain near the front of the plane.

A rumble of turbulence shook the plane with a burst of vibration and sound. Trent peered over Ian’s shoulder to the window at the other side of the plane as he tried to see what could cause such a terrible noise on such a large bird. Through the thin pane of glass, he watched the wing bow and flex in a way that couldn’t be natural for metal.

“Oh God,” said Trent as he gripped the armrest hard. Ian held Trent’s hand and pulled it to his chest. It was hard and hot and Trent could feel the slow and steady beat of Ian’s heart under his palm. Trent’s gaze snapped back to the magazines, where the corner of the bag was still visible. The bubbles from the ginger ale didn’t feel so great in the pit of his stomach anymore.

“You’re fine.” Ian’s low rumble was calm and soothing, but it did little to quench Trent’s terror. “Clouds aren’t as fluffy as they look, and the plane just has to work a little harder to get above them. Once we stop going up, it will be a lot smoother.”

“We’re still going up?” Trent looked around the cabin, but the rows looked totally flat to him. His stomach wasn’t dropping anymore, and his ears had stopped popping, leaving his head filled with a steady pressure like he had a mild cold.

“Not for much longer. It will smooth out in a bit, I promise. I’ve taken this flight loads of times, and I’m always fine. You will be too.” He brought Trent’s hand to his lips in an uncharacteristic display of public affection.

The stewardess reappeared at the curtain and bustled over to them with a smile before she leaned close again. “Here… Just follow me. I’ll grab your bags after we get you moved so no one will get jealous.” Her voice was quiet enough that only they could hear.

Ian slipped out of his seat with a slight stagger as he tried to release his pinned left leg that had probably gone numb sometime during the ascent. Trent tried to follow, his arms flailing, only to realize that he still had his seatbelt strapped around his waist. He flushed as Ian smirked and the hostess let out a small laugh hidden behind her palm.

He grabbed Ian’s soda cans that were between his legs, then pulled the buckle open and shimmied to his feet. His knees were completely numb and felt similar to the consistency of thick rice pudding that didn’t have the bonus cinnamon. He took a step and nearly tumbled into Ian, who caught him with a hand on his elbow.

“It’s like walking on a boat,” said Ian as he let his hand fall so he could follow the stewardess, who was waiting at the curtain.

The floor was moving under Trent’s feet in an alarming way. It wasn’t anything like the gentle rock of his uncle’s boat as the four-stroke engine cut through the waves of the Great Lakes on a calm day. This was more like walking in the back of a hay wagon as it tumbled along a weaving country road.

He braced his hand on the nearest seat and took a tentative step, pleasantly surprised when he didn’t fall flat on his face. He made it down the aisle and through the curtain, barely, to where the other two were waiting behind the grandest set of plane seats that Trent could have imagined. They must’ve landed and gotten on another plane, because as the curtain slid shut behind him, he seemingly entered a whole new world.

This area was so much better, with enough leg room for two people, and seats that had extra padding and slid completely flat for anyone who wanted a nap. The built-in screens were bigger, and there was a bottle of champagne waiting for them in a bucket of ice. There were pillows, actual pillows, and not the ones that went flat the moment his head hit them.

“Here.” Ian grabbed the bottle as he slid into his seat. He pulled a bill out of his pocket and presented it with the champagne to the stewardess. She took both with a slight nod of thanks.

“Just let me know if you need anything,” she said as Trent slid the soda cans into the now-empty bucket of ice. She smoothed a hair back that had managed to slip away from her bun and turned away.

“Wait!” Trent called out, probably louder than he should’ve by the glance that was directed his way from across the expansive aisle.

“Yes?” The hostess looked back at him with a shy smile and a slight blush on her cheeks.

“Um, can I have your number?” Trent asked in a low voice. Ian spluttered beside him, choking on another cup of pop, and Trent flushed even hotter than the stewardess.

“It’s not for me. It’s for my friend. I just thought, if you were available, you two would get along.” He sat back in his chair, suddenly wanting nothing more than to be right beside the flexing wing that might break off at any moment. Ian was still gasping and choking beside him, drawing every eye in first class.

The stewardess took a step back, and a bright flush passed over her cheeks as she chewed on her lower lip. She looked from Trent to Ian, then back to Trent.

“Oh, it’s not for him. He’s mine,” said Trent, shaking his head as he pointed to Ian. Ian spluttered again, losing a second mouthful of pop as he tried to clear his throat. “It’s for my friend Candace. Or I could give you her number and let her know that you might text her.”

“I could take her number,” said the stewardess as she nodded shyly and looked up and down the aisle, “if you show me a picture first.”

Trent whipped out his phone and brought up the first picture of Candace that he had saved. It was a selfie of the two of them at Trent’s wedding. She had been dressed beautifully, as always, in a strappy purple dress that left very little to the imagination, and her hair had been done up in a swirling up-do. She had smiled at the camera as if there had been no place in the world that she would’ve rather been.

At the stewardess’s nod, Trent ripped off a corner of the newspaper in the seat pouch and used the pen she passed him to write down his friend’s name and number. She slipped the paper into the pocket on her blouse before she nodded one last time and disappeared on the other side of the curtain.

“What the hell was that?” Ian hissed quietly. “I thought you were setting up a threesome—and don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered, but we’re gonna be tired after this flight.” Ian let out a little laugh. “I definitely wouldn’t mind. Not that I wouldn’t prefer your ass, but I haven’t been with a woman in so long—and it would be interesting to try with you.”

“Not happening. I just have to keep up my reputation.” Trent shook his head. He was still fascinatingly disgusted by breasts. “I have always been, and will always be, the best wingman ever.”

A ding broke Ian’s laughter, and the man fumbled with his pant pockets with a move that would not have been possible in the economy seats.

“Shit. I thought I’d turned this thing off. You can get in a lot of trouble for having your phone turned on in a plane.” Ian flicked the screen open with a quick press of his fingertip to the back. His smile died and his brows drew together as he read whatever was on the glowing screen.

“Who is it?” asked Trent as he fluffed the pillow behind his head and reclined the chair a few degrees farther. It wasn’t as good as his couch at home, but it was a definite improvement over the economy chairs.

“Mac wants to record the new tracks this week,” said Ian as he clicked his phone off and shoved it back into his pocket. The seams strained as he nearly pushed the phone straight through the fabric.

“But it’s our honeymoon,” said Trent, unable to keep the whine of disbelief from his voice. He would support Ian’s career in any way he could, but this crossed a few lines. He was so ready to get fucked through at least nine lives, and nothing was going to get in the way of that, not even Ian’s best friend and manager.

“I’ll take care of it, T,” said Ian with a forced smile on his face as he reached for Trent’s hand that had settled between them. “So, tell me again why we can’t have a threesome?”

Trent snorted and turned away, squeezing Ian’s hand once. This was going to be the best vacation of his life.

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About the Author

M.C. Roth

M.C. Roth lives in Canada and loves every season, even the dreaded Canadian winter. She graduated with honours from the Associate Diploma Program in Veterinary Technology at the University of Guelph before choosing a different career path.

Between caring for her young son, spending time with her husband, and feeding treats to her menagerie of animals, she still spends every spare second devoted to her passion for writing.

She loves growing peppers that are hot enough to make grown men cry, but she doesn’t like spicy food herself. Her favourite thing, other than writing of course, is to find a quiet place in the wilderness and listen to the birds while dreaming about the gorgeous men in her head.

Find out more about M.C. Roth at her website.

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Release Blitz: The Devil’s Necromancer by Alexa Piper #LGBTQ #murdermystery #darkfantasy @prowlingpiper

Title: The Devil’s Necromancer

Series: Hellbound 1

Author: Alexa Piper

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC

Release Date: October 1, 2021

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 154

Genre: Romance, Action Adventure, Dark Fantasy, Paranorma, Suspense, Urban Fantasy, Gay, Magical Creatures, Dark Desire, Zombies, Murder Mystery

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Synopsis

Lionel, a necromancer and consultant for the Brunswick Police Department, wants nothing to do with immortals. Specifically, he wants nothing to do with Lucifer, who shows up on his doorstep one day with a ridiculous proposal. Lucifer, also known as the Devil, wants Lionel to be his pretend boyfriend. Except the pretend part is something the Devil doesn’t really seem to care for.

Lucifer has read enough romance novels to know that a good dose of forced proximity might be just the thing to get the stubborn necromancer he desires into his bed. The Devil’s plans are soon complicated when Lionel proves more uncooperative and oblivious to love than Lucifer could ever anticipate.

While the Devil wants to claim Lionel, all Lionel wants is to get away from Lucifer. Meanwhile, magic users are being murdered in the city. Lionel cannot escape the implications of those murders for long, and the case soon takes a different turn. Will Lionel be able to escape the Devil’s thrall, or will the necromancer fall for the immortal seducer?

Publisher’s Note: The Devil’s Necromancer contains scenes involving dubious consent that some readers may find offensive.

Excerpt

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Alexa Piper

It was past midnight, and the stars that looked like sprinkles of white chocolate in the velvety dark night sky were overshadowed by the city lights and the waxing moon. I lay on the embankment, North Bridge’s metal frame rising just to my right and further hiding the chocolate sprinkle stars. My feet were wet, but I didn’t mind, not the embankment or the wet feet or the stars melting away in the light and the artificial structures around me. The zombie was oozing all over me from its — his — caved-in skull, and I did mind that. Zombie ooze was a bitch to get out of clothes, even if I’d given up on wearing colors years ago. Black simply was the safest bet for a necromancer.

Zombies reeked when they weren’t really fresh, and this one was ripe — fish-market-in-the-summer-heat-three-days-after-closing ripe. I looked up and considered my life choices, all of which had led me here.

“Do you need CPR?” someone said. It was a warm, manly voice, and I was reasonably sure it could make chocolate melt, star-shaped or otherwise.

I stuffed my self-pity away and turned my head to get a better look at the speaker. He was as handsome as a devil, with skin that looked like marble in the glow of the city at night. His hair shimmered liquid black, but it might have been some shade of brown in proper lighting. It went well past his ears and looked styled with care to get that messy, I just got up out of bed after a night of hard fucking look.

“Why the fuck would I need CPR?” I asked. My voice didn’t sound like I’d just considered crying a moment ago, and I was proud of that.

The guy shrugged. “It’s hard to tell with humans. Your kind is so accident prone, and you seem to be having trouble breathing. Or maybe you hit your head? Do you remember how you got here?”

Did he fucking think I was suffering from amnesia or a head injury or something? “I’m having trouble breathing because I have a fucking dead zombie on my chest, asshat,” I said. In my considered necromantic opinion, I was being perfectly polite, even though I couldn’t be sure what kind of creature the guy was. I’d given him a quick glance with my mage sight, and human he was not.

Jeez, I hated gods and otherworldly beings.

“All zombies are dead,” Mr. Sexy said. “It’s a prerequisite. This one seems to have had its brainstem properly destroyed, however.”

“Oh, smarty-pants, thanks a bunch for the lecture. The basics of necromancy have ever escaped me, even after I raised my very first corpse thirteen fucking years ago.” It had been a blackbird that had died when he crashed into a window at my school. I had cradled the poor thing in my hands as it breathed its last, had cried, and that had triggered my necromancer power. Pretty boy did not need to know that. Every other person I’d ever told had made fun of me for it.

“You could have suffered a head injury with amnesia. How am I supposed to know what you know?” He walked toward me. His movements were silent, cat-like, and more elegant than was right. Even despite the zombie oozing out on me, my cock couldn’t quite ignore him. Seriously, though, what was up with his fixation on first aid and amnesia?

He grabbed the zombie by the legs and pulled the dead-dead corpse off me. “Oh. You caved in its skull with a rock,” he said when he saw the murder weapon in question, the goo glistening on its stony surface. Well, it wasn’t really a murder weapon, seeing as how the zombie had been dead, but details. “How traditional.” He held out a hand to me, and I took it and let him pull me back to my feet. “I’m Lucy, by the way. Short for Lucifer, but I prefer Lucy. As in Lucy Westenra, the woman who almost single-handedly turned Dracula into the first reverse harem romance novel ever before she made the wise decision to claim immortality instead. She was such an underrated character, and I really don’t know why people don’t like her more.”

I dusted myself off. Didn’t help with the wet feet or the zombie ooze, which I really only distributed, like soft butter on hot toast. The shirt I was wearing was ruined. Good thing I had a dozen other plain black shirts just like it back home. “Maybe because she fucking ate children.”

He shrugged. “Well, everyone has a craving now and then. No one judges women’s monthly chocolate cravings, and I don’t see how that was so much worse.”

My brain caught up with the conversation. Lucifer? The Lucifer? The fucking Morning Star, seducer of stuffy virgins and lover of apples? I looked at him. Up at him. Asshole was tall and handsome, the kind of guy I could only ever talk to with about three drinks in me. “You’re the Devil? Satan? Beelzebub?”

“Lu-cy,” he said, slowing down as if he was reconsidering the brain damage thing. Even his eyebrows were perfect, which I only noticed because he pulled one of those up, something most people couldn’t do in real life. He could. And he looked hot doing it. Hotter.

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Meet the Author

Alexa Piper writes steamy romance that ranges from light to dark, from straight to queer. She’s also a coffee addict. Alexa loves writing stories that make her readers laugh and fall in love with the characters in them. Connect with Alexa on Facebook or Instagram, follow her on Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter!

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Instagram | BookBub

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Now in Paperback: The Prince and the Painter by Emily Carrington #LGBTQ #romanticsuspense @CarringtonEmily

The Prince and the Painter (Part 1): Aaron and Jason would gladly spend all their time in bed together, but they’re haunted by their pasts. A rapist and a serial killer are stalking Aaron, and Jason’s growing love may not be enough to protect either of them.

The Prince and the Painter (Part 2): Aaron and Jason must face their demons. But those demons never counted on the love between them growing from a single flame to a raging inferno. Now, just maybe their demons will have trouble with them.

Painter’s Pride (Part 3): Jason and Aaron have been together since Aaron was a freshman. Now he’s a senior and getting ready to pursue his art career in NYC. Jason believes in Aaron, but his boyfriend’s refusal to let Jason help is pulling them apart. Will the season of hope bring them together or will it destroy their love forever?

Warning: The Prince and the Painter deals with issues of PTSD, M/M rape, hate crimes, stalking, kidnapping, and torture. Jason and Aaron’s stories may be triggers for some readers.

Get the Paperback at Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09FSCF3TV

EXCERPT

Copyright ©2021 Emily Carrington
Excerpt from The Prince and the Painter (Part 1)

Jason stared helplessly at a blank piece of paper after the teacher was done explaining their first lesson in androgyny. This class is too advanced for me. He could draw stick people. Hell, he could draw graphs full of figures and parabolas. He could even draw the mathematically correct plans for a simple architectural structure. But this… Forms and lines, shading and curves… He was lost.

Thank God it was only the first week of classes and he could quit this one and find another.

In the meantime, he was caught by the androgynous wo/man reclining on the block in the center of the room. Aaron — or Erin — wouldn’t be his first crush on a not-quite-male-or-female person, and surely s/he wouldn’t be the last. There was something beautiful, artful about an androgynous human being. In a way that had nothing to do with the androgyny of buildings and animals, people who could be either male or female, or maybe some alternative to these two opposites, were simply nature’s gift to the world.

Jason concentrated on one of the model’s eyes and drew that. The shape wasn’t exactly circular, but starting from a geometrically perfect arc helped him keep the basic curve. He made the pupil and iris before drawing the outside. It was far from perfect, but he thought he’d caught the slight upturn at the corner that seemed to reflect the model’s smile.

When Jason sat back, he realized he was sweating. Shaking his hair out of his eyes, he looked at his picture. It didn’t look exactly like the eye before him, but it did at least look like someone’s eye. Then he glanced at the clock and saw thirty minutes had passed. How was he possibly going to finish the rest of the drawing?

He cursed under his breath. That single eye took up most of the top half of the page.

On the platform, the model adjusted position, leaning on elbows that looked near as pointy as a protractor’s needle. In fact, all of the model’s features — face, arms, legs, chest — were narrow. They had a chin like a triangle and cheekbones like two half circles. That doesn’t sound flattering at all, but damn if s/he doesn’t look hot with those features.

Giving up on squeezing the rest of a face onto the first sheet, Jason put this one at the bottom of his stack. Then he tried drawing the angle of the elbow on the block and the shadow under it.

This drawing failed miserably. Too bad they’re aren’t as easy on the pencil as they are on the eyes. Jason smirked in spite of his failure and shuffled this drawing also to the bottom of the pile.

The model’s eyes sparkled as if s/he knew what Jason was thinking.

By the time the class was over, Jason had six failed drawings and no progress.

“If you check the class website on Poster –” the SUNY Besker website “– you can choose one of Aaron’s poses to draw. Your first drafts are due Wednesday.” And the teacher began packing up.

Jason got up and approached her. “I wanted to let you know I’ll be dropping this class.” He realized he’d brought two of his drawings with him and showed her, feeling shamefaced.

She took the pictures, studied them for a moment, and then said, “I think this class is too advanced for you.”

Everyone else was leaving. Jason nodded.

“Don’t give up on it, if art is what you really want to do,” she told him. “But learning to swim by falling into the deep end is really not the best way to go.”

Jason winced. He returned to his desk to collect his failures. What was I thinking, working with live models?

“You didn’t draw anything?” the model asked from behind him.

Jason groaned and covered his face. “Yeah,” he told the unknown voice because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut, “but it all looks like shit.”

“Let me see.” A delicate hand with long fingers took Jason’s stack of paper and shuffled through. “I like this one.”

Jason looked up into the guy’s face, knowing the model was male because of his voice. His narrow face held a pair of hypnotic, dark brown eyes. “Which one? They’re all pretty terrible.” That was an understatement.

Aaron retreated to the raised platform in the middle of the room and hiked one skinny hip up onto it. “I like this one,” he repeated, and then showed Jason the drawing of his eye.

Jason shook his head. “That one’s okay, but it’s not small enough. If I could even fit your nose in there it would be a miracle.”

“You just need a bigger piece of paper.” He slid off the edge and returned the drawing. “You haven’t taken an art class before?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Not from your work, from your face.” Aaron grinned. “Let me see that page again.”

He bent over Jason’s eye drawing, flipped the paper over, and wrote something on the back with one of Jason’s pencils. “Here. Try this book. It’ll make your life easier, especially if this isn’t your passion.”

Jason read the underlined title and frowned. “It sounds like a biology book.”

Aaron laughed. “It’s an art book. I promise. But it’s more enjoyable and less technical than most.” He headed for the door. “I’ll see you later, Jason.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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

Find Emily Online: Facebook | Twitter

Release Blitz & Review: In Deep by Bailey Bradford #LGBTQ #eroticromance #paranormal @firstforromance @pridepublishing

In Deep by Bailey Bradford

Book 1 in the Hooked on You series

Word Count: 57,279
Book Length: NOVEL
Pages: 257

Genres:

CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
GAY
GLBTQI
PARANORMAL

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Book Description

Titus wanted a summer fling—then he wanted more…

Titus Eisenhower loves his job as an elementary school teacher in a small Texas town. Sure, he has to be careful, but not being out is fine with him since he’s not interested in dating another man after his last relationship went so badly. But now he’s got the career he’s always wanted, a safe place to be and friends. Isn’t that everything he’s dreamed of?

But when he meets a man he can’t resist, Titus realizes he’s stifled a part of himself…and a part of his dream. He can’t trust another man ever again, but he can manage a little summer fling, right? Wrong—everything about the mysterious Draven calls to him, and the two share a connection Titus has never dreamed of.

That’s already mind-blowing, but learning the truth about Draven is world-shattering. With evil threatening, and old enemies closing in, Titus will have to believe in things he didn’t know were possible if he and Draven are to stand a chance…

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of fighting, reference to murder and abusive relationships and arson.

Publisher’s Note: This book was previously published as Across the Tides. It has been revised and reedited for publication with Pride Publishing.

Excerpt

“Come on, kids, let’s see if we can find any shells!” Titus Eisenhower nodded to the parent volunteers forming a human wall between the Pre-K children and the ocean, keeping the kids from getting in past their ankles. The annual field trip to the beach was one of the highlights of the school year for the kids and teachers alike.

Seeing the children’s faces lit up with joy, hearing their shrieks of—mostly—laughter, watching them run and splash in the bit of water they could reach…it made his heart swell every single time he got to take part in this trip, and this was his fifth with one of his classes.

The other teachers were at his sides, vigilant, but when it came to children and water, all parents, all adults, needed to be watching the whole group.

This year’s parents were great. He’d only had one pissed-off dad who had refused to let his child go since he couldn’t just hang out with his kid. Other than that, there’d been plenty of parent volunteers, and, wonder of wonders, they got on well, too. Last year, two of the dads had gotten into a fist fight over some perceived insult. That had been a disaster.

“God, I bet we don’t ever get such a great group of parents again,” said Stacy Evans, his best friend and colleague. She’d been hired the same year he had, and they’d become fast friends. Stacy’s bright-orange hair was all over the place as the beach breeze whipped it about. She shoved uselessly at several flapping strands. “Why, oh why don’t hair ties work for me?”

“Honey, that hair can’t be tamed any more than you can,” quipped Michelle Ochoa. She was older than Titus and Stacy, but not by too many years. “You’re as wild and powerful as the wind.”

Michelle was also Stacy’s girlfriend, though no one but Titus knew that.

Stacy laughed. “Whatever. When I’m blinded by my own hair, then what’ll I do?”

“Mr. Eisenhowew, I finded a shell!” Little Bobby Garza hopped in place as he waved a sandy glob in the air. “Wook!”

Titus grinned and jogged over to Bobby before squatting so he could be eye to eye with the boy. “Hey, you did! That’s awesome! Want to dip it in the next wave and see if we can get the sand off?”

“Yes!” Bobby’s delighted shriek made Titus’ ears ache, but the rest of him filled with sheer wonder and delight. He loved his job, and he loved the kids, loved seeing them grow and learn. It made him less cynical every time he saw the world shine in a child’s eyes.

“Then let’s do it.”

Titus got the other kids to show their treasures. A couple were upset that they didn’t find good shells, but, overall, everything was going surprisingly well.

After they’d got the kids lined up—and allowed the parent volunteers to take their kids home in their own vehicles, rather than making them ride the buses—Titus took a moment to look back at the ocean. The waves were slight, which was normal for this area of the coast. It was only one-thirty in the afternoon, so the sun was high and bright, the reflection on the water exquisite in its beauty.

“Just think…next weekend, we’re going to be here in our own beachfront condo, partying—or relaxing, more likely—for a whole seven days,” Stacy said, her soft voice breaking into Titus’ quiet appreciation of the view.

Not that he minded. He grinned at Stacy. “You and me and some margaritas,” he promised.

Stacy nodded. “Darn right. I’m so looking forward to it.”

“Me, too.” Titus and Stacy had started their beach tradition their first year at the school. Michelle and Stacy hadn’t been dating then. They’d fallen for each other a little over two years ago, but Michelle didn’t come to the beach vacations. She had prior commitments with her family in Michigan that took her away.

Titus privately thought Michelle didn’t want to intrude, and he had mixed feelings about that. He didn’t want to be a third wheel, but he hated to think Stacy might regret Michelle not being there.

“Stop brooding,” Stacy said, poking his arm. “You’re going to get wrinkles all over your forehead and around your eyes before you hit thirty if you keep doing that.”

“I wasn’t brooding,” Titus protested, immediately trying to smooth out his features.

“Yeah? Then what were you frowning at?” Stacy asked.

“Y’all need to hurry up—we have to get on the road,” Michelle called out to them.

“Oops, we’re holding everyone up.” Titus grinned, relieved at being saved from having to answer Stacy’s question.

“I’ll keep bugging you until you answer me,” Stacy promised as they rushed to the buses.

Titus could have protested, but he knew better. Besides, all he had to do was tell Stacy the truth—he didn’t want her to feel like Michelle wasn’t welcome.

But he’d keep the other truth to himself—that he was lonely, and when he’d looked out over the water, that sense of loneliness had permeated his happiness, and now, melancholy lingered in the place where joy had been. Yes, I’ll definitely keep that secret.

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MY REVIEW – 5 stars!

Shifters, Demi-gods, an abusive ex, and a human… this book has a bit of everything, and it’s perfectly blended.

Titus isn’t out of the closet, for fear of losing his job, but when a summer fling turns into something more he has to decide which is more important… his job or the shifter he’s fallen for.

The book has tons of hot, sexy scenes, a bit of drama, some action, and an unexpected twist! I thoroughly enjoyed In Deep and hope we get to read more about Draven’s family in upcoming books. Both Titus and Draven were a mix of soft hearted and ready to kill to protect those they love. I thought the characters were well balanced and their instant attraction worked well for a fantasy romance.

Can’t wait to see what happens in book two!

About the Author

Bailey Bradford

A native Texan, Bailey spends her days spinning stories around in her head, which has contributed to more than one incident of tripping over her own feet. Evenings are reserved for pounding away at the keyboard, as are early morning hours. Sleep? Doesn’t happen much. Writing is too much fun, and there are too many characters bouncing about, tapping on Bailey’s brain demanding to be let out.

Caffeine and chocolate are permanent fixtures in Bailey’s office and are never far from hand at any given time. Removing either of those necessities from Bailey’s presence can result in what is known as A Very, Very Scary Bailey and is not advised under any circumstances.

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Release Blitz & Review: The Depths of Time by Lori Fayre #timetravel #eroticromance #LGBTQ @firstforromance @pridepublishing

The Depths of Time by Lori Fayre

Word Count: 44,191
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 172

Genres:

EROTIC ROMANCE
FANTASY
GAY
GLBTQI
HISTORICAL
THRILLERS AND SUSPENSE
TIMETRAVEL

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Book Description

An obsession with the past becomes his love story.

Obsessed with RMS Titanic from a young age, Lucas Thompson has spent his life studying the shipwreck and turning his passion into a career in marine archeology. But, on the one-hundred-year anniversary of the voyage, he’s drawn to the ship’s resting place by a strange sonar ripple that hurtles him back in time. Luke wakes in the year 1912 as a passenger on the grandest ship in the world.

It’s there that he meets Quinton Hawthorne, the man who sacrificed himself to save passengers during the sinking, including Luke’s great-grandmother. He also comes face-to-face with Lucinda Hughes, the very woman who raised him on her stories of the ship. With his inside knowledge of the impending disaster, Luke feels a responsibility to change history and develops a plan to save the doomed ship and its passengers.

Things quickly fall apart as Luke begins to fall for Quinton, knowing that it can only end in heartbreak. Though he’s determined to save Quinton, he’s also faced with a dilemma. Should he save the ship or allow destiny to play out?

Excerpt

April 11, 2012 4:27 pm

Lucas Thompson took a deep breath, allowing the salty sea air to penetrate every inch of his being. As the ship bobbed gently along the waves, Luke knew that this was where he was meant to be. He closed his eyes and stretched out his arms to let the fine spray mist over his face and soak into his dark gray T-shirt.

“Reliving a movie moment, are we?” a voice said behind him. He turned to see Kyle Stanton, Master of the Vessel, standing there with his hands stuffed into his coat pockets. Kyle was an average-looking man, with his dark-brown beard and constantly mussed hair. He wasn’t very tall, but he was strong and seemed to take every opportunity he could to prove so.

“Just taking in the air,” Luke replied. Kyle raised an eyebrow at him.

“Do you mean the nearly forty-degree air?” He began shrugging off his thick jacket. “Come on, Luke. You know better. I can’t have the head man getting sick on me.” Luke rolled his eyes but welcomed the warmth when Kyle placed his coat over Luke’s shoulders. The amount of cologne lingering in the fabric nearly choked him, but he endured it, if only to save Kyle’s feelings.

“Being out here clears my mind. Besides, there’s a whole team of people, and any one of them could take my place on Alice if they needed to. They’ve all been properly trained.” Kyle wrapped an arm around Luke and began to lead him down into the ship. He stopped at the base of the steps and turned to look at Luke.

“This is your expedition,” he said sincerely. He reached up, almost as if he wanted to touch Luke, but stopped himself. “You’re the heart and soul of this trip. You and this crew have been good to me over the past couple of years, you know. I’d follow you anywhere.”

“And what better opportunity to prove that than this wild goose chase?” Luke laughed and handed Kyle his jacket. “Thank you. I’m really glad the gang’s with me on this.” He turned to go to his room, the grin never leaving his face.

Luke pushed the door to his quarters open, shoving at it with his shoulder to widen the entrance. He’d been having to slip in and out of the narrow opening due to the stacks of boxes piled all around the room. Scrolls of maps and schematics littered every surface and boxes of records were stacked so high that Luke feared a paper avalanche might happen at any minute. Even the bed was buried somewhere under the journals and books. As much as he would like to excuse the mess as part of the expedition, both he and his friends knew better.

This was Luke’s collection, formed over the last eighteen years. It was his life’s work, which had started when he was only eight years old. Luke crossed the room and looked over his belongings, eventually coming to stand in front of the culmination of it all—his maritime archeology degree. He smiled sadly.

“This one’s for you, Gam.” Next to the degree hung an old black-and-white photograph of his great-grandmother, Lucinda Hughes. It had been taken back in the thirties and showed Lucinda posing on the beach, a soft breeze lifting her curls and a dazzling smile lighting up the camera. Luke touched the frame, then backed away. He had a lot of work to do before they reached the site.

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MY REVIEW – 5 stars!

For fans of the unsinkable ship and time travel romance, The Depths of Time is a must-read. It’s an emotional, page-turning story full of hope, loss, and love.

When Luke finds himself on board the Titanic, he’s lost and confused. Until he meets Quinton. The man has always fascinated him, but meeting Quinton in person has a much bigger impact on Luke. Falling in love wasn’t part of Luke’s plan. Once he falls for Quinton, he knows he can’t leave the man to die.

The Titanic has always been a fascination of mine. I can’t think about the horror of that night without wanting to cry for all the lives lost. In Lori Fayre’s The Depths of Time, the story of Titanic gets a somewhat happy ending.

About the Author

Lori Fayre

Lori Fayre was born and raised in a small South Georgia town. Her debut novel, “The Devil’s Maverick”, was a novel nearly six years in the making. An obsessive consumer of romance, Lori knew it was the only genre for her. When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading, drawing, or binging Hulu with her husband and Yorkie.

You can find Lori on Twitter and at her website here.

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New Release: Will You by Kira Stone #LGBTQ #contemporaryromance

Somewhat estranged from his family over his choice in career — ad design rather than the family’s legacy in corporate finance — Brandon Wiley doesn’t want to push his luck by informing his parents that he’s gay.

But now his older brother is getting married. When he’s asked to be the best man, Brandon agrees. It doesn’t take him long to regret that decision, as the next phone call is from his mother demanding that he bring a date, or she’ll find a girl for him.

Evan Mitchell is ready to leave his wife and be the gay man he knows himself to be. Gail’s tears and Joanne’s threats convinced him to play the Happy Het one last time for his daughter’s wedding before starting his new life as a gay bachelor. It should have been easy, but there’s something about Brandon he can’t ignore and he risks blowing his cover for his first taste of gay passion.

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Kira Stone

“I can’t wait to introduce you to everyone,” Gail said as she tugged him out of the car. Not that he needed her help.

“Give the guy a chance to clean up first,” Jason reminded her.

Gail had Brandon in tow and gave no sign that she’d heard Jason. The door opened before they got halfway down the path. A tall, thin woman with perfectly coiffed hair the same golden shade as Gail’s stood in the entryway, her arms held out as if she were receiving a long lost friend. “Oh, you must be Bradley!”

Brandon, Mom. His name is Brandon.”

Brandon tugged his hand away from Gail and offered it. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Mitchell.”

“You must call me Joanne.” She latched onto his other arm and pulled him over the threshold. Brandon wondered where the hell his brother was, and why he’d been abandoned to these two women.

They marched him through the house, Gail releasing him only when it became obvious that the three abreast wouldn’t fit down the hall. As the noise got nearer, Brandon tried to pull away and ask for directions to the bathroom, but the ladies wouldn’t be deterred.

The hallway opened out into what Brandon supposed the chic would call a Great Room. The term fit when it came to size, taking up nearly one quarter of the ground floor. It seemed to be filled with people, and Brandon wondered just how many friends and family members were going to be left in the audience if all of these people were actually in the wedding party.

Brandon scanned the room where the guests were grazing between food and drink stations set out like toadstools in some magical kingdom. The whole thing had a surreal quality about it, and he had never been so happy to see his mother as he was the moment she stepped out of the crowd to greet him.

“Brandon, sweetheart, it’s so good to see you. I was starting to worry that something might have happened to your flight.”

He hugged his mother hard. She still smelled the same. That more than anything let him know that he was home. He didn’t like the way she tried to run his personal life, but he never doubted that she did it out of love. “Hi, Mom,” he said lamely.

She smiled up at him and used her pink-painted nails to brush some of the hair back from his face. “You look well.”

“So do you.” She really did. Classy and happy. Sometimes he wondered if human beings were really meant to spend their entire lives with just one other being, and then he’d recall the way his parents looked together and knew it was more than possible. It happened every day.

Sure enough, his father soon joined them. As he slid one arm around his wife, he extended the other to shake hands with his youngest son. “Glad you could make it, son.”

“Good to see you, Dad.”

Their private family moment was short-lived as Gail appeared at his elbow. “Morgan didn’t come,” she announced.

“That’s too bad,” his mother said. There was a gleam in her eye that added she wasn’t all that sorry.

“She had to work. Out of town. An emergency thing. She sends her regrets.” His parents knew about Morgan’s efforts to find the lost, and their expressions immediately turned more sympathetic.

“I’m sorry, Brandon,” his mother said. “I hope it goes well.”

So did he. It tore Morgan up when she failed, and this time he wouldn’t be home to cheer her up. At least, not right away. “Thanks. If I can find Jason, I think I’ll talk him into finding me a room so I can freshen up.”

Gail tightened her grip on his arm. “Oh, no. You’re not running away yet. There’s someone I want to introduce you to.”

They wiggled and jiggled their way through the bodies until she stopped before a couple conversing quietly in a corner. The woman was seated on a footstool beside an older man who was explaining something that required a lot of hand motions.

Brandon suspected the woman was Jennifer, but he couldn’t spare her more than a glance. He was totally mesmerized by the man conversing with her. His dark hair was closely cropped to help hide the fact that it was thinning just a bit. Laugh lines gave character to his eyes and mouth. He wore a jewel-blue shirt that went perfectly with his naturally tan skin. A little hint of chest hair was visible through the opening around the collar.

As they approached, the two got to their feet. Brandon estimated that the man stood a little over six feet. That would give him about four inches over Brandon’s height. Perfect. As was the rest of him. He had broad shoulders and a trim waist. Too bad he was wearing pleated pants that didn’t give much of a hint about what the man might be packing between his legs. Please let him be single. Please let him be gay.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kira Stone lives in a warm cave tucked away in the remote Scottish Highlands, where a small band of ever-changing heroes serves as company. As they relax in front of a roaring fire, demons dance in leather pants and angels stroke tunes from the harp strings, while the Fae stop in to share tales from other worlds. Bound by pen and imagination, these are the folk who wait to greet you from the pages of Kira’s stories.

The who and what of Kira in this more mundane world is not what turns you on, but the words sure do – so go discover the passion that awaits you between the covers of every Kira Stone book…

Release Blitz: Far Away Eyes by Megan Slayer #LGBTQ #paranormalromance @MeganSlayer

Title: Far Away Eyes

Series: Set in Stone

Author: Megan Slayer

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC

Release Date: September 3, 2021

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 52

Genre: Romance, Science Fiction, Gay Romance, Second Chances, Magic, Paranormal

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Synopsis

Gage knows Rascal is dying. The gay cancer has taken over his life and is killing him more each day. Gage knows his love can’t save Rascal, but what if there is a chance to change the future?

Rascal isn’t done loving Gage. He’s not ready to die. If he’s willing to accept the magic from Darryl at Start Me Up, he can come back.

He’s going to return to his love and life, no matter the cost. Now if only Gage will accept him…

Excerpt

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Megan Slayer

Steve opened the door and slid behind the wheel. “Hold up. Okay?”

Gage settled against Chris. God, he was numb. He’d known the end was coming for Rascal, but that hadn’t prepared him for the actual event. It was too soon. Too final.

“Lew will want to talk to you,” Chris said. “He handled Rascal’s will.”

“He did?” Why didn’t he know that? He was Rascal’s partner and they’d told each other everything — at least he’d thought they had. “Since when?”

“The last time you were at the hospital — two weeks ago? He set it up when you were sleeping.” Chris shifted in his seat. “Steve and I know this sucks. We’ve been through it.”

“And we survived.” Steve smiled. “Lew will tell you something that seems impossible, but it’s not.”

He doubted he’d question Lew, the lawyer. But the whole situation seemed strange. “Okay.”

“You’ll think it’s far out, but I guarantee it’s real,” Chris said. “Trust us.”

Gage shrugged. “Sure.” He’d believe almost anything right now if it meant getting Rascal back. Since that wasn’t going to happen, tough shit.

Steve turned back around and started the car.

Maybe he was just too dazed, but Gage doubted Chris and Steve knew what they were talking about. They’d never really understand because they hadn’t actually lost each other. Hadn’t been ripped from the scene because family didn’t believe he was gay or seen their partner waste away.

He paid little attention as Steve drove to the apartment. Right now, he wanted to go back to the hospital and be with Rascal. His lover wasn’t in that shell any longer, but that didn’t quell the ache in Gage’s being.

Steve parked on the street. Chris left the vehicle first and Gage followed. Gage wandered up to the apartment. How could he ever go back to his own apartment? Everything there reminded him of Rascal. Once Rascal had been diagnosed with the cancer, he’d moved in with Gage to consolidate homes and save some money.

He stood in the living room of Chris and Steve’s place but wished he could go. King and Randall were there along with Eric and Danny. On one hand, it felt like too many people around, but on the other, this was his adopted family. The chosen ones he called his nearest and dearest. His own parents hadn’t wanted him around because he was gay, and Rascal suffered the same problems. All he and Rascal had were each other and their adopted family.

Lew stepped into the apartment. “Hi.”

God. If one more person showed up, Gage would leave.

Chris and Steve stood behind the sofa, King and Randall waited by the bar and Eric and Danny reclined on the window seat. Gage wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. “Yeah?” Gage asked. “Well?”

He shouldn’t be upset with them, but the despair bled into the rest of his life.
“You should know some things before we go over Randall’s will,” Lew said. “Do you know how Randall, Eric and Steve are here?”

Gage shrugged. “They survived?” Why in the hell was anyone asking him this right now?

“Not exactly,” Chris said and rounded the sofa. “Steve had the gay cancer, remember? Maybe you don’t, but he did. He died and I spent a long time mourning him. It hurt so much.”

He didn’t remember that, but honestly, he hadn’t paid much attention.

“And Eric was killed by a gunshot wound,” Danny said. “I lost him and never thought I’d ever be whole.”

“Obviously he pulled through,” Gage said. If he hadn’t, Eric wouldn’t be sitting there.

“He didn’t,” Danny said. “He died.”

“I see him right there with you.” Gage shook his head. This was ridiculous.

“Randall was attacked at the shelter back at Christmas. He bled out,” King said. “I saw his parents take custody of his body.”

“I don’t believe this. You’re all standing here, so someone lied or you never died.” Gage held up both hands. “Just… stop. Enough. You’re all bullshitting me. What is this?”

“This is where I come in,” Lew said. “I, along with Bob and Darryl at Start Me Up, helped the others, and we helped Rascal.”

“You did?” Gage snorted. “Did you bring them back from the dead? Huh? Did you become a doctor and learn how to reverse the damage from a gunshot wound? Did you figure out how to keep someone from bleeding out? Did you come up with a cure for the gay cancer? Is that how you saved the other guys? Come on.” His voice cracked. “Rascal is gone. There’s nothing you can do to change that. No one can. I lost him — end of story.”

“It’s not the end of the story,” Lew said. “Trust me.”

Purchase

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Meet the Author

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

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

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Instagram | BookBub

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Release Blitz: Siren’s Love Song by Alexa Piper #LGBTQ #urbanfantasy @prowlingpiper

Title: Siren’s Love Song

Series: Elvenswood Tales 4

Author: Alexa Piper

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC

Release Date: September 3, 2021

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 124

Genre: Romance, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures, Gay, Magic, Vampires, Zombies, Action Adventure, Paranormal, Urban Fantasy

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Synopsis

As a siren, Mike has a voice to sway a human heart. But he is a lawyer first, and when he meets a cute librarian, it’s Mike who is being swayed. Before the siren knows it, a chance meeting is turning into passionate love.

Corvin loves books and is passionate about being a librarian. When a tall, dark, and extremely handsome lawyer walks into his life, he is over the moon and in love. Yes, Mike likes humming and singing, and Mike’s boss is a little odd, but Corvin knows Mike loves him, and that is all that counts.

Mike has been keeping his siren nature a secret from Corvin, and with each passing day, with each step they take toward each other, telling the human he loves what Mike truly is becomes more difficult for Mike. Yet, when they are about to leave the city and take a beach vacation so Mike can work up the nerve to tell Corvin, a jealous necromancer ex shows up and tells Mike he wants him back. Now, Corvin needs to know what Mike really is. All Mike can do is hope that their love will be enough to make Corvin accept him as worlds and desires clash.

Excerpt

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Alexa Piper

Mike had always thought that the background music the supermarket near New Elvenswood’s university campus spouted from the hidden speakers was about as cultured as a day-old piece of gum stuck to the sole of a smelly running shoe, yet here he was. Granted, he hadn’t come for the music, but for the almost ridiculously wide selection of spices on offer. Specifically the cayenne pepper was the best and Mike’s reason for enduring the music. Two baggies of the stuff were already in Mike’s shopping basket.

Mike let his eyes wander over the various salts the market had in stock. They had anything from pink to black, from coarse to fine, and a part of Mike was wondering why he was even bothering with the fancy ones when he really just needed salt for cooking, for pasta water essentially. He sighed, scratched the back of his head, and picked out a pink variety, which went into his shopping basket to keep the cayenne pepper company.

I think pink salt from some mine somewhere on another continent just became the highlight of today. Mike thought back to the rest of the day, which he’d spent reviewing contracts for a selkie client.

Mike left the spice aisle behind and headed to the produce section. He enjoyed cooking, even after a long day, because something about preparing the food without hurry just made him relax. He liked cooking for friends as well but had never minded just doing it for himself. As he picked out bell peppers, Mike began to hum a low melody, which barely drowned out the ugly background music the store used to torture all shoppers.

Turning to the ginger root, Mike caught sight of another shopper, though he actually looked at the shopper only after he saw the man’s T-shirt. I am a DRAGON, look how I boar, it read, displaying a grumpy cartoon boar, half hidden by a pink dragon costume. That T-shirt was wonderfully ridiculous, and Mike found himself smiling.

The man who wore it under a neat black denim jacket didn’t notice. He was too engrossed with the pineapples, picking one up and giving it a critical look, then putting it down again and subjecting its neighbor to the same scrutiny. The whole thing looked, for lack of a better word, cute.

Mike cleared his throat, and the man looked from his pineapple to Mike. Dragon T-shirt had brilliant green eyes. “You want them just slightly soft when you squeeze the shell. Definitely not hard,” Mike told the other man.

“My mother told me not to trust men who have such strong opinions about pineapples,” Dragon T-shirt said. His blond hair fell over his eyebrows and almost tangled in his dark lashes, and Mike felt the sudden urge to brush those soft curls out of the way. Dragon T-shirt had a bubbly voice, a bit higher than Mike’s own, and with an excitable, bright echo to it.

Mike nodded thoughtfully. “I assure you, that was no opinion, just an observation.” He leaned over the pile of ginger root in front of him. “But if you care for my opinion, it’s the dragon fruit lovers who are all kinds of trouble.” He tilted his head. “Nice T-shirt, by the way.”

To Dragon T-shirt’s credit, he never looked down to his own T-shirt. “Thank you. I like a man who knows soaring fashion when he sees it.” He blinked, then held out the pineapple to Mike. “Check this for me.”

Mike took the offered fruit. It felt fine to him, but he still walked around the aisle until he stood next to Dragon T-shirt. Mike put the pineapple he’d been handed back down and picked out another, made a small show of examining it, and then handed that to Dragon T-shirt. “Here. This’ll be sweet.”

And Dragon T-shirt actually licked his bottom lip before he took the fruit from Mike. Their fingers brushed against each other’s, and Mike wanted to launch into a low hum at the contact, but he didn’t. Few supernaturals would willingly stick out like Dragon T-shirt, and so Mike had to assume this cute man with a hankering for pineapple was all human.

Purchase

Changeling Press LLC | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iTunes

Meet the Author

Alexa Piper writes steamy romance that ranges from light to dark, from straight to queer. She’s also a coffee addict. Alexa loves writing stories that make her readers laugh and fall in love with the characters in them. Connect with Alexa on Facebook or Instagram, follow her on Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter!

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| Instagram | BookBub

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Release Blitz: Tomorrow’s Hero by Thom Collins #LGBTQ #sportsromance #eroticromance @pridepublishing @firstforromance

Tomorrow’s Hero by Thom Collins

Word Count: 32,214
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 127

Genres:

CELEBRITIES
CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
GAY
GLBTQI
SPORTS

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Book Description

 

A professional footballer with a secret. Can love conquer a lifetime of fear?

On the surface, international football star Fernando Inglesias has the perfect life—his dream career, fame, wealth and a beautiful girlfriend on his arm. At twenty-nine, Fernando has it all, but success is fragile, and one mistake could destroy everything. Fernando has a secret he will never share, something that could destroy everything he’s worked hard to achieve. There are no openly gay male footballers in the professional league, and he has no intention of becoming the first.

Ibiza…the party playground of Europe—a hedonistic island where anything is possible. On a weekend trip with the boys, love is the last thing Fernando expects to find. A chance meeting with Joshua, a handsome English visitor, changes it all. For the first time, he finds himself interested in more than sex from another guy. As Fernando and Joshua grow closer, the stakes are high on both sides as they struggle to overcome their personal differences.

Can Fernando risk his career for the sake of loving another man?

Reader advisory: This book contains themes of homophobia, a mention of suicide and references to parental neglect and abuse.

Excerpt

By eleven p.m. on Friday night, the stag party had been hard at it for thirty-eight straight hours. Since they’d arrived at the airport yesterday morning, they’d been on a relentless mission to get wasted, knocking back beers with vodka chasers before boarding the flight. Now Marc, the groom, had his hand up the skirt and his tongue down the throat of a girl he’d met less than an hour before. The best man had another woman pressed against the wall, while the tell-tale jerk of her shoulder made it clear she was giving him an over-the-trouser hand job.

Fernando Inglesias watched the tawdry display going on all around him and wondered, not for the first time that day, what the hell he was doing there. He barely knew Marc Jenner, and from what he’d seen of the groom so far, he intended to keep it that way. The rest of the group were just as bad—entitled, overgrown schoolboys behaving like this was their first trip away from home. Fernando had come along for the sake of his friend and teammate Robson, the only guy on this trip he gave a stuff about. Now Robson had his arm around the shoulder of a woman in a transparent dress. There was no need for Robson to stare so obviously at her enhanced breasts when everyone in the place could see them.

And now the women—a large hen-party they’d met in the previous bar—had tagged along and made themselves a permanent fixture. Lured by the promise of free drinks and VIP club access, it was obvious they would stick with the guys for the rest of the night, perhaps even the weekend.

Fernando knew before the flight had left London that he’d made a mistake in accepting the invitation. It had been pure hell from the start. He would make sure he was unavailable for the wedding, whenever that was.

He flinched as one of the women from the hen party made a grab for his crotch. He ducked his hips just in time to keep her from getting a good handful.

“Aww, don’t be a spoilsport,” she said, pressing her breasts against him and thrusting her knee up the inside of his thigh. “I only wanna see what all the fuss is about. Know what I mean?” Her screechy laugh cut above the unrelenting beat of generic house music.

Fernando tried to pull away, but the woman would not be shaken. She put an arm around his waist and pushed her body tight against his. She reeked of cloying, overbearing perfume and gin. Fernando turned his head to avoid the worst of the smell. Like all drunks, she had no concept of how loud she was being.

“Wass-a-matter with ya?” she shouted in his ear. “You’re in Ibiza, ain’t ya? Everyone comes here to party. Don’t be so stuck up.”

She ground her body against him almost in time with the music. Fernando looked around for help, for someone to save him from this awful woman, but all the other men in his party were enthralled by the girls. They probably thought he was having a great time.

Fernando groaned. He didn’t fit in with anyone here. Even Robson had turned into a different person since hooking up with these idiots. They had been drinking since they’d surfaced around noon and made no attempt to hide it when they took a hit of cocaine to revive their flagging spirits. He’d avoided them for much of the day, working out in the hotel gym before catching some quiet time around the pool in the afternoon, but there had been no getting out of joining them this evening. When they’d finally hit the town, Fernando had been the only sober member of the group.

“They call me Becca,” the woman hollered, fluttering her false eyelashes. She licked her lips, gazing at him lasciviously. “I know who you are. I’ve seen you in the magazines—gossip sites and all that. Always thought you was hot, but man, those pictures don’t do you justice.” She giggled, an obvious attempt at coyness. “You are so much sexier in the flesh.”

Fernando clenched his teeth. This was exactly what he didn’t want—being recognised from the trashy celebrity magazines his girlfriend paraded them through, rather than as the international striker he was. Those mags were devoured by people like Becca, who seemed to believe every word they read.

“It’s not true, is it?” she persisted. “That you’re getting married to that Pritti Parlow?”

“No,” he said, looking for an escape. The bar was packed, and he’d somehow got hemmed into the corner. He saw several camera phones trained on him and Becca. Great. A photo like that could be used to support any bullshit story the gossip sites cared to invent.

“Good,” Becca said, pressing closer. “Cause you can do much better than her. Know what I’m saying? I don’t think she’s all that special. You see her everywhere, but I don’t even think she’s that pretty, which is funny considering her name. It’s all false, ain’t it? Her tits, her hair, lips… None of it’s real. I mean, no offence and all that, but I just say what I see.”

Fernando raised his eyebrows. With her frozen forehead and the duck-like shape of her mouth, Becca’s own brand of beauty was far from natural. “I have to go. Excuse me.”

Becca gripped him tighter. “I’m a model,” she continued, undeterred. “Glamour, corporate entertaining, you know the kind of thing. I’m a friend of the bride.” She gave a dismissive wave in the direction of a woman in a pink tutu and veil. “Sort of. More a friend of a friend, but who’s gonna turn down a trip to Ibiza? It’s fucking insane, ain’t it? I love it here. Don’t you, hon?”

Fernando yanked his arm out of her grip. “It was nice meeting you,” he said without conviction. “I have to go now.”

She appeared panicked, reaching for him again, but he shrugged her off. “Why don’t I come with you? How does that sound? You and me? We could go somewhere nice and quiet. Maybe your hotel.”

“No thanks.”

“I give the best blow jobs,” she shouted, spraying him with spittle. “All the guys love it. I can suck your balls dry and make your toes curl. And that’s just for starters. First night anal. I’m that kind of girl. I guarantee a good time—the best you’ll find this weekend.”

“You know I have a girlfriend.”

“But she ain’t here, is she? What she don’t know about won’t hurt her. Besides, if it’s only a blowie, like, it hardly counts as anything, does it? An’ in Ibiza at that.”

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About the Author

Thom Collins

Thom Collins is the author of Closer by Morning, with Pride Publishing. His love of page turning thrillers began at an early age when his mother caught him reading the latest Jackie Collins book and promptly confiscated it, sparking a life-long love of raunchy novels.

Thom has lived in the North East of England his whole life. He grew up in Northumberland and now lives in County Durham with his husband and two cats. He loves all kinds of genre fiction, especially bonkbusters, thrillers, romance and horror. He is also a cookery book addict with far too many titles cluttering his shelves. When not writing he can be found in the kitchen trying out new recipes. He’s a keen traveler but with a fear of flying that gets worse with age, but since taking his first cruise in 2013 he realized that sailing is the way to go.

You can take a look at Thom’s Blog and follow him on Twitter.

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