blog tour

The Skeptic (Arcana Books, Book 1) by Lily Morton, Narration by Joel Leslie: Audiobook Tour, Exclusive Excerpt, Audiobook Review and Giveaway

March 8, 2023 by Denise

. .

As the best friend of a psychic, Will Buchanan can’t help but believe in the dead. It’s the living that he finds to be problematic. However, after a spate of betrayals, he finally has the chance of a new life within his grasp, and he’s not going to risk it for anyone or anything. Staying safe is the name of Will’s game.

Jem Dawson defines the word temporary. A talented cameraman, he’s here today and will undoubtedly be gone tomorrow chasing adventure and danger. But, while he’s in York, he’s made it clear he wants Will, and Will can’t help liking the charming daredevil.

This inconvenient attraction results in Will accompanying Jem to the site of a notorious poltergeist outbreak. A malevolent spirit has targeted a family, and now the ghost hunting team for whom Jem does camerawork are going to be locked down in the house for three days.

The house is strange and filled with sinister and violent undercurrents. One by one, the group experiences threatening incidents, and as events escalate, Will has to ask himself if he’s risking not just his heart but also his life with this impulsive gesture.

This is the first book in the Arcana Books series featuring characters from the bestselling Black and Blue series.

The Sceptic

By Lily Morton

Arcana Books, Book 1

Amazon – Kindle Unlimited – All Regions

Audible – Audiobook

Goodreads

“Cheers.” Jem takes a sip before putting the mug down and fiddling with the little paper label.

“You okay?”

He smiles. “Just working out what to say.”

“Don’t think. Just say what’s in your head, Jem.” I look around. “I had some biscuits somewhere. Biscuits always help.”

With a rustle of paper, the packet of chocolate bourbons slides slowly across the counter, coming to rest in front of me. Jem’s mouth falls open.

“Thanks, Rosalind,” I call. I kick his ankle, and he jerks.

“Oh. Okay, thank you, Rosalind,” he says, obeying my silent urging.

I smile at him and push the packet towards him. “Take one.”

He reaches out his hand, and we both stare as the packet is moved very firmly away from him.

“Erm,” I say.

He tries again, but once more, the packet moves until it settles by my side.

He bites his lip. “Either she thinks I need to go on a diet, or she doesn’t like me.”

“Why wouldn’t she like you ?” I ask in amazement.

He smiles. There’s a breath of cold air and the smell of lily of the valley, then we both watch as his cup is pushed away from him, and his bag is lifted from the chair and set at his feet.

“Rosalind,” I sigh. I hesitate and then look imploringly at Jem. “I’m going to do something now. Can we please forget what is about to happen and never mention it to another living soul?”

“I don’t think I can promise that,” he says solemnly. “This has the feel of something good.”

I take a breath. “Rosalind, this is Jem. He’s a friend, and he means well. He’s very nice, and you’ll like him. I promise.”

An invisible hand runs through my hair, and I shiver at the cold blast of air.

Jem stares at me, his eyes wide. “She just ruffled your hair. Wasn’t she a famous murderess?” he whispers.

“Yes. But it’s rude to mention it,” I say firmly. “Say hello.”

“This isn’t a prank, is it? There aren’t any cameras in here, are there?”

“At least thirty recording your every move. Say hello.”

“H-Hello,” he finally stutters. “Lovely to meet you, R-Rosalind.”

The cold wind eddies around us, sending the biscuits rolling off the table. Then, the cupboard doors fly open one by one before the kitchen door slams shut. Footsteps thump loudly on the stairs. The warmth slowly returns to the kitchen, and I get up and close the cupboard doors. When I settle back into my chair, I find him staring at me.

Is there a Lily Morton book that I haven’t loved? Haven’t found one so far. Yes, I like some more than others, but this author writes humor better than most any author in this genre, and The Sceptic is no exception. Even with the mystery surrounding the house that Will and Jem are helping at, there are lots of little snarky moments, courtesy of Jem, quite a bit, but also Will as he became more comfortable.

I will not give anything away about the mystery and suspense in this story, except to say that I would have been out of there pretty quickly myself. 🙂

Will, Blue Billings’ best friend, definitely got the short end of the stick more than once in his life, and someone who was a gentle giant like him, I don’t know how that character wasn’t hard and cynical. I would guess the only reason he wasn’t cynical and hard was because he had his best friend for so many years. Instead, he was looking forward to going away to college, now that he didn’t have to take care of Blue. However, with the circumstances he had dealt with, it was fairly easy to see how he didn’t trust that anyone would be there for him, when the chips were down. Jem, though, did not let him down, and that had to have been just one more reason why Will was willing to let his heart feel again.

Jem, a photographer with mad wanderlust (his word), but also felt a strong pull towards the gentle man who he met through Blue. He was quick witted, funny, and determined to work his way into Will’s heart slowly. It was very sweet how he let Will know right away that he was chasing after him. And Will, slowly became less nervous around Jem, until he realized he wasn’t any longer. They were very much opposites, yet their personalities meshed so well together, supporting and caring for each other.

And the hugs-the sweetness of the hugs! There just isn’t enough simple hugs in romancelandia, and we need to correct that.

As usual, Joel Leslie knocks another one out of the park. I don’t know how he does it to, be honest. He’s able to give each character distinct voices and mannerisms, no matter their gender. The listener knows who is speaking/narrating at all times, whenever he is on tap for a book. His voice can wrap you up in the story, exactly like one of those comforting hugs between Will and Jem. When you are done, you feel better for having spent the time in a marvelous story with a marvelous narrator.

The blurb on this says it is the first book in the series, and I am hopeful there is more to come. I do enjoy my romance filled with suspense.

4.5 pieces of eye candy

Lily is a bestselling gay romance author. She writes love stories filled with heat and humour.

She lives in sunny England with her husband and two children, all of whom claim that they haven’t had a proper conversation with her since she got her Kindle.

Lily has spent her life with her head full of daydreams, and decided one day to just sit down and start writing about them. In the process she discovered that she actually loved writing, because how else would she get to spend her time with hot and funny men?

She loves chocolate and Baileys and the best of all creations – Chocolate Baileys.

Meet Me in the Blue by A.M. Johnson: RB, Excerpt, New Release Review and Giveaway

March 6, 2023 by Denise

. .

Meet me… in the place where the sun kisses the horizon and sinks into blue shades of you and me.

Meet me there… where everything was always perfect. You and me and the damp grass at dawn and the gray dirt in the late evening rain.

Meet me where we were ourselves and not these two people who can’t even say I love you.

Meet me there and maybe we’ll remember…

We’ll remember the us we were before them, before miles, before lost hours, and you’ll ask what color the sky is, and I’ll say blue like your eyes.

And you’ll smile, and I’ll forget I ever missed you.

****

Luka and Rook have been best friends since they were nine years old.

Five years ago, Luka threw it all away.

When his dad’s health takes a turn for the worst, Luka must come home to say his goodbyes and mend the bridges he burned all those years ago. But coming home is harder than he imagined, and after reuniting with his family, there’s only one person he needs.

Rook…

His best friend.

The one man he pushed away, the one man, no matter how hard he tried to forget, he can’t stop himself from loving.

Even if loving him means breaking his heart all over again.

Meet Me in the Blue is a stand-alone, best friends to lovers, second chance, demi-awakening, MM romance, with a whole lot of small-town heart, meddling moms, gossiping townies, self-discovery, a friendship forged of forts, Dungeons and Dragons, and a love that will stand the test of time.

Title: Meet Me in the Blue
Authors: A.M. Johnson
Length: 65k
Series: Hemlock Harbor, Book 1

Amazon – Kindle Unlimited – All Regions

Goodreads

“Hey, Stace.” Avoiding her expectant smile, I kept my head down as I grabbed a pint of Rocky Road from the freezer.

I preferred Moose Tracks, but Rett refused to carry it. If he didn’t love my father so much, I’d think it was personal.

“I tried to get him to order it, but you know him…” Stacey cringed and narrowed her brown eyes. “He’s a stubborn asshole. Rett said…” She lowered her voice to something akin to the man himself and my lips twitched at her attempt to mimic the old bastard. “Rocky Road is a staple.”

“I suppose he’s right. Can’t argue with traditions.”

“Isn’t the customer always right?” she asked, and I set the pint on the counter.

Chuckling, I shook my head. “I don’t think Rett gives a shit.”

Stacey bit the corner of her pink-stained lip and looked over my shoulder, grinning like she had some sort of secret. Picking up the ice cream, she shoved it into a brown paper bag. “Well, I give a shit.” Her flirty smile and bold eye contact made me wish I’d skipped coming to the pharmacy in the first place. I stared at the bag on the counter instead, feeling my pulse in my fingertips as the seconds ticked by uncomfortable and loud between us. “It’s on the house,” she said, her confidence fading. “My treat.”

“Stace, I—”

“Stop being so nice all the time, Rook. Let a girl buy you a pint of ice cream.” I could hear the smile in her voice but kept my eyes down. “I insist.”

“Thanks,” I said, conceding even though I knew better.

I glanced up and found her big eyes, hopeful, staring back at me. My face heated as her triumphant grin stretched across her face.

“Anytime…” She fiddled with the small stack of flyers next to the register.

My chest ached a little, wishing I could summon some sort of attraction for her. She was sweet and conventionally attractive with a lean, athletic build. She used to be a cheerleader way back when in high school, and I remembered all the guys on my hockey team would talk about her, mostly crude locker room shit. But Stacey was just Stacey to me. Rett’s niece. Rett, who’d owned this damn pharmacy longer than I’d been alive. She could hit on me every time I walked through those front doors, which she did without regard for her own feelings, and it wouldn’t change the fact I wasn’t into her. Or anyone, really. This town was too small and too nosy, at least that’s what I’d tell myself when I got home and made dinner for one and ate this ice cream like a sad cat lady. I wasn’t sad though, and it was hard for people to understand. Especially my family. “You’re thirty-two, son. The older you get the slimmer the pickings.” And “I worry about you, worry you’re lonely in that big house of yours?” And “Stacey… she’s a sweet one.” And my personal favorite. “Son, your mother and I… we want you to know you can tell us anything. We want you to know we love you unconditionally, straight… or gay, we love you and want you to do whatever makes you happy.”

I wished it was as easy as gay or straight. What if being alone was my happily ever after? Would that be so bad?

“I heard Luka’s coming back to town,” she said, and my heart skipped at the mention of his name, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Yeah?” I swallowed past the twinge in my throat. “I saw Nora at the clinic last week, said he was coming home soon.”

“Too bad about their dad. He was a good man.”

“Is…” I corrected. “He is a good man.”

He was still alive, still breathing.

She bit the side of her cheek, her face pale. “I didn’t mean… I shouldn’t have said—”

“It’s okay, Stace.” I tried to conjure a smile on her behalf but failed. “Dr. Abrams’s prognosis isn’t a secret.”

I’d known Isaac Abrams for most of my life. He’d joined my dad’s practice when I was nine years old and was like a second father to me. I’d grown up with his family, his daughter Nora like a sister, and his son Luka used to be my best friend.

Used to be.

Luka’s smile beamed bright behind my eyes, his laugh a distant echo in my ears. It had been five years since I’d seen Luka Abrams. Five years of feeling lost without a compass.

“Is it true?” she asked.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“Dr. Abrams… he’s on hospice now?”

“Yes.” I didn’t elaborate. A man’s life, or end of life, should be his own. Not a juicy piece of small-town gossip.

“Fuck cancer,” she said, the frown on her face genuine.

Fuck cancer.

“I should get going.” I held up my bag with the ice cream inside before turning to leave. “Thanks, Stace.”

“When you see Luka, tell him to stop by. It’s been ages since he’s graced us with his presence, and I’ll never forgive him if he doesn’t at least come say hello.”

I waved over my shoulder as the damp, frigid February air bit at my cheeks. The wind blew through the open front door and chilled me to the bone. Focusing on zipping up my jacket, I tried not to think about Luka and failed. After I’d spoken to Nora the other day, his name had been on a constant loop in my head, but I thought I had a handle on it. Stace mentioning him again made the realization that he might already be at home, sitting on the couch in the living room, where we used to play Dungeons & Dragons, a reality I wasn’t sure I was ready to face. After his dad was diagnosed with liver cancer a few years ago, I’d hoped he’d move back then. He didn’t. But it wasn’t like he hadn’t made an effort to keep in touch over the years, keeping tabs on his dad’s treatment. But friendship was a funny thing, and like the miles between us, he grew more distant with every missed text, or phone call. Luka used to text or call every day when he and his boyfriend from college had broken up. They’d lived together in Portland, but after they split, instead of coming home to Hemlock Harbor, Luka moved to Los Angeles. His phone calls had always been the highlight of my day, even if he was only calling to vent about the traffic. But eventually, the daily calls turned to monthly updates, and now I was lucky if I got a Happy Birthday or a Merry Christmas. I’d tried to reach out when we all found out about his dad, but it had been clear I was the only one holding on, and after a while, the grip I had on the past hurt more than it was worth. I’d had to let go.

I didn’t want to be angry at him for shutting me out, for finding himself, finding the life he wanted far away from here, far from the small-town life he never wanted. But we’d spent almost every day together, every weekend for the better part of my adolescence, and even though we’d gone to separate colleges, we’d maintained our friendship the best we could. I’d gone to the University of Washington in Seattle for both my undergraduate and graduate degrees, which was barely over fifty miles away, and felt homesick every damn day. After graduation he’d chosen to stay in Oregon, and I’d chosen to come home and work as a certified nurse-midwife for our fathers’ clinic. I couldn’t ever imagine leaving Hemlock Harbor. This place was my home. It was as permanent as the bones under my skin. Our families were intertwined, it was hard to remember a time when I didn’t know Luka.

I didn’t know him now.

I’d thought we’d be close forever. I’d thought Luka would always be my other half. He knew me better than anyone. I’d spent more hours of my life with Luka than I could count. But something changed, and as much as I wanted to blame his move to Los Angeles, or his dad’s cancer, I wondered if it was something I did, or didn’t do. I was never as bright as Luka, as audacious. When he walked into a room everyone noticed. The thought of seeing him again, after all these years, had my stomach in knots. I wanted everything to be the same while wanting to hold on to my anger too. But Dr. Abrams was dying, and I didn’t think it mattered how I felt about being left behind in Luka’s wake.

Once I was in my car, I cranked up the heater and turned onto the main road. The sun had started to set, the overcast sky nothing new, but today the clouds, and their gray fingers, dove into the pines, made everything seem heavier. I glanced at the clock on the car stereo and found myself turning right on Mill Creek Road instead of left toward my house. It took ten minutes, and I was afraid I’d miss it as I parked my car in front of my childhood home. I stepped out onto the wet street, the rain, more of an icy mist, clung to the fabric of my jacket. The lights were off inside my parents’ house, but the Abrams’s front window was lit with a warm yellow glow. I bypassed their front door and headed down the familiar path between the two houses, walking faster with each passing second, until I was under the shade of the trees. The ice cream on my front seat forgotten and probably starting to melt. Each breath, each beat of my heart, it was like I could feel him there waiting, and as I broke through to the small clearing, I saw him.

A man I didn’t recognize stood with his back to me, his eyes on the sky. The tattoos peeking out from under his damp cotton t-shirt were new, his bleach-blond hair was new too. My heart drummed inside my chest, but I was surprised to find it wasn’t in anger, but relief. So much relief.

“Meet me in the blue,” I said. “I’ll always be here.”

AM Johnson can weave a story that keeps you reading. She beautifully sets up the lifelong friendship between Rook and Luke, from age 9 until 5 years ago when Luke ghosted Rook to save his heart.

But Luke is back home to lick his wounds and spend time with his dying father. Because the families of Luke and Rook are so intertwined, there’s really no way of avoiding each other so Luke goes back to their favorite spot in the woods. Which is exactly where Rook found him, without being told he was there.

What follows is Luke and Rook becoming friends again, picking scabs that were almost healed and telling truths that needed to come out. The awkwardness and stilted conversations they had were very realistic. They WANTED to be best friends again, but they needed to learn how all over again.

Add in that Luke is gay and out and has been in love with Rook as long as he could remember. And even though Rook has never told anyone if he was gay or straight, he was assumed but everyone to be straight. And while he doesn’t think he is gay, he definitely isn’t straight. And confused.

Once Rook figures out that Luke is the one he wants, all of the walls start coming down and they figure out what they are to each other. Because it is certainly more than bff.

There’s a nice set up to what I am hoping is book 2 in the series with some side characters. That is always fun.

You will need some tissues because, like I said, Luke’s father is dying. So, ya. Be warned.

AM Johnson never disappoints.

4.5 pieces of eye candy

Amanda is an award winning and best selling author of LGBTQIA and contemporary romance and fiction. She lives in Utah with her family where she moonlights as a nurse on the weekends and hikes in the mountains as much as possible.

If she’s not busy with her three munchkins, you’ll find her buried in a book or behind the keyboard where she explores the human experience through the written word, exploring all spectrums and genres.

She’s obsessed with all things Hockey, Austen, and Oreos, and loves to connect with readers!

Stay up to date by signing up for her newsletter here: http://bit.ly/NewsLetterAMJBooks

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Drive by Courtney Maguire: RB, Exclusive Excerpt, New Release Review and Giveaway

March 2, 2023 by Denise

. .

Red has all but resigned himself to a life in the closet when he’s propositioned by the dashing, wealthy Victor Itachi. The small East Texas town of Black Creek isn’t the most hospitable environment for those who are different.

His secrets keep him–and more importantly, his sixteen-year-old half-sister, Katie–safe. But Victor’s dominance challenges everything Red thinks he knows and he finds himself swept up in an intense sexual relationship that forces him to confront his deepest desires, both in and out of the bedroom.

When an unlikely friendship with the only out gay man in town triggers Victor’s jealousy, Red must make a choice: submit fully to the relative safety of Victor’s control or risk it all for a chance at something real.

Title: Drive
Authors: Courtney Maguire
Length: 228 pages
Genre: BDSM, Kink.
Tropes: small town, rich love interest, friends to lovers.

Amazon – Kindle Unlimited – All Regions

Goodreads

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, reaching for a beer out of the bucket perched between us. “How was your sister’s first day at school?”

“Good. Kind of amazing, actually.” Now, I couldn’t stop smiling. “I’ve never seen a kid so excited about homework.”

“Where is she going, now?”

“Oak Forest Charter School.”

He whistled. “It’s hard to get in there. And expensive. How’d you manage it?”

“I manage,” I said with faux indignation. “Just because I’m not heir to a lumber fortune doesn’t mean I’m impoverished, ya know.”

“First of all, I’m not heir to anything. My father saw to that,” he said, jabbing a finger in the air. “And that’s not what I meant. I just—”

“Relax, I know it’s not.” I picked at the label on my bottle. “We…had help.”

“Oh. I see.” He took a long pull off his beer and eyed me shrewdly. “You got a sugar momma, Red?”

I coughed violently as my drink nearly came out my nose. “Jesus Christ, Sean.”

“Hey, I don’t judge,” he said, laughing and holding up his hands. “A man has needs. So, who is she? An old widow who inherited a fortune? The wife of a rich oil man who hates her husband, but just can’t get enough of the hunk who rotates her tires?”

I threw a chunk of sod at him and he rolled out of its path, laughing like a hyena. “There’s no sugar momma, all right.” I wrinkled my nose. “And I’m not a hunk.”

“You kind of are, actually.” He shrugged as I arched an eyebrow in his direction. “So, sue me. I noticed.”

The heat on my neck spread to my whole face and I prayed he couldn’t see it in the dark. The beehive turned into a full-on hornets’ nest. He noticed? What did that mean? That he found me attractive? If I was honest with myself, I would admit I’d noticed him too. The moment he peeled off his sweaty shirt was the best part of my day. But I’d shoved it down deep, down into the same place I put all the other inappropriate emotions I couldn’t act on.

But what if I did?

I nearly jumped out of my skin when my phone lit up with that chorus of barking dogs. Sean rolled on the grass laughing as I fumbled in my pockets, kicking and swearing until I managed to rip it out and silence the ringtone. Victor. Shit.

“Speak of the devil?” Sean asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“It’s nobody.” Nobody? Fuck. I swiped across my phone until I reached his message, not that I needed to read it.

Heel.

I glanced at the time. Nearly midnight. He’d never called so late before. With a knot in my stomach, I tapped out a quick response.

Can’t. Busy.

“If you need to go…”

“I don’t.” I flinched as it went off again.

“You know, some girls might find that ringtone offensive.”

I rolled my eyes and checked the message.

Now.

A sliver of fear slid up my spine. Do I dare say no?

“Seriously, it’s fine,” he said, giving me a friendly punch in the arm.

“Really?”

“Yeah. At least one of us is getting laid.”

I groaned and pushed myself to my feet. Normally, a call from Victor would leave me electrified with desire, but my muscles were heavy and sore. I wanted to stay here, curled up on the grass in front of a fire that was too hot.

But my Master called.

This is a new to me author, but the blurb sounded good so I figured I would go for it.

The story started out well enough. Mechanic, in the closet, raising his teenage sister, small town Texas. Seemingly ultra rich guy gets his car serviced there and surreptitiously invites him for a night at an exclusive club.

The mechanic, Red, also ends up befriending the only out gay man in town when he needs help getting graffiti off of his car.

And from there, it was so much surface stuff. It takes forever to know why Red is raising his sister. He seems to fall into and accept the Dum/sub situation Vincent offers. He is too afraid of people seeing him with Sean, the out gay man. We know Vincent is a lawyer, but basically that is almost it until toward the end. I never really connected with the characters because they didn’t go deep enough.

This is hard without spoilers, but I will do my best.

Big ole plot twist. I was like, wha? And then, The End. I was mad. Mad. Build up this and then we get that. And we get that without any real satisfying story or conclusions or happily ever after or anything! GAH!

This seriously should have been two separate books. Instead of the plot twist, that should have just been a separate book. Because nothing was fleshed out at all.

3 pieces of eye candy

Courtney Maguire is a University of Texas graduate from Corpus Christi, Texas. Drawn to Austin by a voracious appetite for music, she spent most of her young adult life in dark, divey venues nursing a love for the sublimely weird. A self-proclaimed fangirl with a press pass, she combined her love of music and writing as the primary contributor for Japanese music and culture blog, Project: Lixx, interviewing Japanese rock and roll icons and providing live event coverage for appearances across the country.

Connect with Courtney:
Website: https://www.courtneymaguirewrites.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/PretentiousAho
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CourtneyMaguireWrites
Mastodon: https://mas.to/@CourtneyMaguire

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Suddenly, Last Summer by Michael Robert: RB, Exclusive Excerpt, and Giveaway

February 20, 2023 by Denise

. .

TREY BARNES

I professed my love for Jordy when I was seventeen. He was leaving for his last year of medical school after working another summer at my family’s Banks Lake resort in the Pacific Northwest.

Desperate for him to know how I felt even though he was my older brother’s best friend, and fearing that he wouldn’t return after that summer, I decided to take the plunge and admit my feelings while I had the chance.

As the adult in the situation, Jordy wisely chose to discount my confession as simply a teenage crush. But my last spoken words to him were that I’d wait patiently for him.

And I always kept my promises.

JORDY HALL

I’d been away from my small hometown for nearly five years. Life and a stressful medical residency had kept me busy, but I finally returned to fulfill my best-man duties for my best friend’s upcoming wedding.

His younger brother, Trey, was a sweet, sensitive kid when I left years ago. The shy, lean teenager who’d tearfully professed his love for me my last summer there had grown into a sexy, confident man. I was intrigued by what I saw, though I probably should have walked away again.

Had he actually waited for me to return? Did I hope he had? He was nine years my junior and my best friend’s little brother. But he could be so much more.

After five long years, it was suddenly last summer.

Title: Suddenly, Last Summer

Author: Michael Robert

Amazon – Kindle Unlimited – All Regions

Goodreads

“You’re definitely drunk, Derek, and I don’t want to witness your backpedaling tomorrow morning,” I said.

“I’m staying the night?” he asked excitedly. “I was hoping you’d want some.”

I stepped back and he shut the door behind him and grabbed me, pressing me against the wall again, and connecting with my lips. I relaxed for a moment and allowed him to lure me in with the sexual power he held over me. Derek was hard to resist and I was horny as hell. My cock was awakening and pressing against his body. As soon as my boxers made a tent, he’d slid his hand down and was massaging me through the slit in the front.

“You should probably stop that, Derek.”

“Your mouth says so but your dick seems happy to see me. Why don’t you let me have a little sucky-sucky?” he moaned.

I wanted nothing more than to feel his lips around my cock, but this wasn’t what I needed. I needed Derek to be attentive every day, not just days when he’d been rejected by me. Maybe I should have played harder to get than I had? Obviously, saying no to him was exactly what got him interested. But a quick blowjob? What would that hurt?

“Go ahead. Suck it,” I said nastily. “Swallow it deep too, fucker.”

Michael Robert is an author residing in Seattle, Washington. The Crow Flies Free is his debut novel. Michael enjoys traveling and he aspires to visit the locations of his upcoming novels so as to provide vivid and accurate descriptions of them. He enjoys tennis, road trips and fast cars. Please look for his future projects, the next story coming soon.

Connect with Michael:
https://linktr.ee/AuthorMichaelRobert

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To Mend a Broken Wing by Fearne Hill: Release Blitz, Excerpt, New Release Review and Giveaway

February 13, 2023 by Denise

. .

“I think,” Lucien began, “that we accept the love we believe we deserve. And unfortunately, Noah doesn’t believe he deserves any.”

For twenty-two-year-old Noah, the revelation that his biological father is an ex-professional footballer is like tearing the wrapper from a cheap chocolate bar and discovering he’s won the elusive golden ticket. Every homeless young man’s dream, right?

Wrong. Because his father has also served a lengthy prison sentence. For murder.

With nothing to lose and facing a winter sleeping rough, Noah travels to France to meet him. Despite an angry encounter, Noah reluctantly agrees to stay at the ancestral home of one of his newfound father’s friends until he finds his feet.

Twenty-five-year-old Toby loves his village of Rossingley so much he’s never left. Working as a manny caring for the children of the eccentric sixteenth earl is his dream job. Sure, he’d like to travel someday and maybe find a boyfriend, one who doesn’t treat him like a doormat. But with his deformity denting his confidence, Toby counts his blessings and takes what he can get. That is, until a sullen, handsome misfit comes to stay, flipping Toby’s ordered village life upside down.

Title: To Mend a Broken Wing

Series: Rossingley, Book Four

Author: Fearne Hill

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 02/07/2023

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 71800

Genre: Contemporary, contemporary, gay, bisexual, interracial, NA, British, physical difference/phocomelia, found family, coming of age, humorous, cricket competition, children

Amazon

NineStar Press

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Toby

“Darling, which do you prefer, Moonlit Navy or Magenta Surge?”

The job description had outlined caring for three children, all under the age of five. The wording had been economical with the truth. By my calculations, there were four. Number four had recently celebrated a milestone birthday and was a smidge sensitive about it.

“The navy’s good,” I hedged, examining the nail polish on both of the earl’s elegant index fingers, pressed side by side. “It complements your…er…outfit.”

He sighed in consternation. “Moonlit Navy is my go-to normally, darling, but I’m concerned it’s beginning to complement not only this divine outfit but my knobbly blue veins too. Don’t you think?”

During my three years of study at childcare college, none of the modules had offered handy tips on how best to sensitively reassure a gay earl dressed in a sky-blue satin nightdress that he could paint his fingernails navy, magenta, or pink with yellow spots, and no one would notice. For the simple reason that the trillion-carat diamond adorning his ring finger, not to mention the other sparkly rock in his ear, and the string of boulder-like pearls around his neck, kind of drew the eye. And did I mention the nightdress?

“Magenta,” came a masterful deep growl, accompanied by two strong arms wrapping themselves loosely around the earl’s shoulders from behind. “I like you wearing magenta.”

Leaning back into his husband’s wonderfully secure hold, my boss tipped his face up to meet Dr Sorrentino’s and accepted a tenderly loving kiss on the end of his patrician nose. Thank God. The cavalry had arrived. I averted my eyes as they shared a swoony moment.

“Magenta Surge it is, then,” the earl declared. His voice took on a throaty, sultry tone.

Never taking his eyes off his husband, he addressed me. “Toby, my darling. I do believe Jay and I will sojourn to the west wing for a while. The light is so much better up there for nail painting, wouldn’t you agree?”

As sex euphemisms went, this was typically delicate.

“Absolutely.” As if I’d ever dare disagree with my boss on such matters. “I’ll listen out for the children.”

“Thank you,” the earl replied graciously. “You are an absolute treasure.”

Tell me something I didn’t know. Pushing himself back from the table in a single fluid movement, the earl stood and took Dr Sorrentino’s waiting muscular arm. Another swoony kiss; anyone would think they’d been married six minutes, not six years.

“I don’t know how we’d cope without you, Toby,” he added, giving his husband’s arm a squeeze.

You’d have a hell of a lot less sex with the delicious Dr Sorrentino, probably. I pushed that thought aside. I did not envy my boss. I did not envy my boss.

I watched them dreamily wander out of the kitchen, already oblivious to my presence. The earl’s satin nightdress trailed soundlessly along the floor behind him, and I shook my head, smiling to myself as I cleared away the forgotten pots of nail polish.

My phone pinged—a daily text from my mother, checking all was well in my world. And, as usual, it was, as long as I ignored the teeny fact that my knight in shining armour had missed his cue to take centre stage. Despite that, I shouldn’t and wouldn’t envy the earl. He might have the delectable Dr Sorrentino carting him off to bed at two o’clock on a Thursday afternoon, but how could I ever be envious of a man with his grim family history?

The tragic deaths of the fifteenth earl and his oldest son and heir eight years ago had cut deep into the soul of Rossingley. I’d been fifteen years old, and the shroud of grief that settled over families like mine was a testament to the Duchamps-Avery stewardship of the village. Rents in Rossingley for local families were low, and the Duchamps-Averys had never succumbed to the lure of greedy property developers. The current earl’s money kept the village pub alive, provided the school with much needed extras, funded new church bells as required, and repaired holes in the church roof.

The profound impact of the accident on the current earl didn’t bear thinking about. While Rossingley mourned, Lucien Avery vanished, leaving my Uncle Will, the estate manager, to keep the Avery affairs functioning while the reclusive new earl grieved in private.

Stories sprang up about him, of course, almost overnight. The silliest being that he was a vampire. Or a ghost. That he’d died in the helicopter crash along with everyone else. That his continued existence was a fabrication to prevent his wicked uncle getting his hands on the dosh. That he’d been sighted wearing a flowing white dress, dancing in the moonlight down by the still lake. That he swam in the lake at midnight. That he walked on water. That he spent his days wandering the attic rooms calling for his lost brother. That he was crazed and locked in a basement asylum.

Uncle Will debunked all these myths, and more, but people carried on spouting them anyhow. Why let the truth get in the way of a good story?

Like all gossip, two-thirds were total bullshit, but some held a grain of truth. The earl did wander the estate dressed in flowing gowns, albeit with the addition of green wellies. I’d seen him with my own eyes, an almost ethereal, waiflike presence, as I helped Uncle Will refence the north fields during the school holidays. I recall I’d stared and stared at him, fascinated, half expecting him to float away on a strong puff of wind, up to the heavens to join his beloved family. When my uncle noticed my staring, he ordered me to let the poor guy grieve in peace. Joe, who worked in the gardens, reported the new earl spent his days sitting on a bench smoking himself to death. Steve—another gardener, now retired, said he’d been ordered to place fresh flowers on the family graves every single day.

And then, a couple of years later, a ray of light burst through the new earl’s grief, lifting the thick bank of clouds. Once again, bright sunshine beat down on the lush green fields of the Rossingley estate. By then I was eighteen and working with Uncle Will every spare moment I wasn’t in school, saving for college. A mysterious new car appeared in the big house yard, a flashy red Audi, its owner a burly hunk of masculinity, equipped with brawny arms and a mass of black curly hair.

They were spotted together, the stranger and the earl, holding hands by the lake, kissing against the south wall of the old stone chapel. Reuben, the new gardener, told everyone the stranger was another doctor, that the new earl had found his one true love (Reuben was a French romantic), that the man with the Audi would be staying for good. Seemed he was right because a wedding followed not long afterwards. The village celebrated; I drank far too much free champagne, vomited in the walled garden rose bushes, then snogged Rob Langford, the dairy farmer, for the first time. But that’s another story.

I busied myself with preparing the children’s supper. Five-year-old twins, Eliza and Arthur, were at their weekly riding lesson with Emily from the village. Orlando, the most scrumptious bundle of fifteen-month-old goodness to ever exist on this planet, would soon be awake from his afternoon nap. Mary, the housekeeper, had finished for the day, and the earl and Dr Sorrentino would be indulging in afternoon delight for at least another hour. Which gave me a rare quiet moment all to myself.

The house phone rang, a number known only by a very few—Dr Sorrentino’s family, the earl’s family, Uncle Will, the children’s school, and the earl’s closest friend, Marcel. All other calls were routed through the estate office. The chance of interrupting Dr Sorrentino in whatever pleasures he was currently providing, in order to answer a phone call was roughly as likely as my Prince Charming galloping through the kitchen on one of the children’s ponies. So I answered it myself.

“Oh, Lucien, you are never going to believe what’s happened. You should probably pour yourself a glass of something orange and vile and sit yourself down.”

The voice sounded breathy, flustered, foreign, and familiar.

“Uh, hello, Marcel. Sorry, it’s Toby. The manny.”

“Oh, my goodness. Toby! So sorry! Is he around? I called his mobile, but he didn’t pick up.”

Right. First rule of Rossingley: you do not talk about Rossingley.

“Um…yes; he’s…um…somewhere, I believe?”

“Thank goodness. I’m having a teeny-tiny, non-asthma-related crisis, and I’d really appreciate his pearls of wisdom right now. Although, obviously, don’t ever tell him I admitted that.”

“Obviously.”

I’d experienced one of Marcel’s non-asthma-related crises the last time he came to stay. It involved a tricky sudoku and the French Minister of the Interior. From his urgent and breathless manner, this one sounded more serious. I checked the time. The earl had been gone less than twenty-five minutes.

“Okay.” I stalled, rapidly assessing the situation. “I’ll…um…shall I…um…ask him to call you as soon as he’s…um…available?”

Second rule of Rossingley: When Dr Sorrentino eye-fucked his husband in that tone of voice, then tugged him purposefully towards the west wing, it was a brave soul who dared interrupt. Or someone who had been best friends with the earl for yonks, like Marcel.

“Toby, my dear?”

Some of the breathiness left Marcel’s tone, replaced with a touch of steel. “Lucien is in bed, isn’t he? In the middle of the day, with that ravishing hunk of a husband.”

“Um…well, I…possibly?”

“Listen. And this is very important. Go upstairs to the west wing, bang on the bedroom door—loudly—and inform Lucien I need to speak to him. I expect he will decline.”

“Um…yes…I, yes, you may be right.”

Marcel knew my boss exceedingly well.

“When he does, you have my permission to inform him if he doesn’t bring his skinny, oversexed, ridiculous aristocratic self to the telephone at once, Marcel will whisper in Jay’s ear a little story about a porcupine cactus, a Cuban waiter, and a silver teaspoon. During that memorable trip to…aah…Morocco.”

Morocco. Third rule of Rossingley: If ever Marcel dropped the M bomb? Fetch the earl at once.

This is the fourth book in the Rossingley series, and I’ve enjoyed each that I’ve read. This book though really needs to be read after the other three, or there will be some things that don’t quite make sense to the reader. This one had some hurt/comfort feel to it, but also a bit of grumpy/sunshine.

Noah has a fairly big chip on his shoulder, and certainly it is warranted. It does make him grumpy and guarded against any more pain. Toby is able to get through his defenses. In addition, we see a lot of the characters from the rest of the series, and how their HEA has gone for them. (Lots of laughs!)

Toby is the manny at the estate, and of the children that Lucien and Jay from To Hold a Hidden Pearl have. He is content in his life, comfortable and avoids confrontation. He does manage to befriend Noah, and these two young men work their way to being a super sweet couple. Toby has his own issues and Noah does his best to be supportive and caring.

I enjoyed this book a lot, and can see this as a series re-read.

4.5 pieces of eye candy

Fearne Hill lives deep in the southern British countryside with three untamed sons, varying numbers of hens, a few tortoises, and a beautiful cocker spaniel.

When she is not overseeing her small menagerie, she enjoys writing contemporary romantic fiction. And when she is not doing either of those things, she works as an anaesthesiologist.

Author Links

Website: http://www.fearnehill.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/fearne.hill.50/

Twitter: http://twitter.com/FearneHill

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

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Hot Blood (The Braided Crop Ranch, Book Four) by AE Lister: Release Blitz, Excerpt and Giveaway

February 11, 2023 by Denise

. .
Oliver Lambert has taken his photography skills and run with them. By the time he’s thirty, he’s made a name for himself and now has jobs whenever he needs them. He likes to be behind the camera, watching the world through a safe lens, protected from actually engaging with it.

An unexpected referral takes him somewhere he never expected—a kinky fetish ranch in the Muskokas, where men pay to play pony and trainers teach them how to behave.

Adam Marsland needs a visual record of the Braided Crop Ranch and it’s been a while since the website photographs were updated. When he’s given Oliver’s name, he immediately hires the man to come for the summer session to immerse himself in the ranch and its activities.

Oliver is out of his depth, but the challenge of photographing the beautiful men at the BCR is something he can focus on. Safe behind the lens of his camera, Oliver finds the ranch to be seductive and shocking. He can’t help admitting a fascination for the people who make the Braided Crop Ranch what it is.

But just because he knows how to take a great photo doesn’t mean he’s prepared for everything he encounters, especially when it comes to a recalcitrant ponyboy named Puck.

*Note: The timeline of Hotblood is prior to the events in Stable Hand but should be read either as the fourth book in the series or as a standalone.

Title: Hot Blood

Series: The Braided Crop Ranch, Book Four

Author: AE Lister

Series: The Braided Crop Ranch, Book Four

Genre: Contemporary, BDSM, pony play, kink, photographer, hurt/comfort, grief, public sex, voyeurism

Amazon

NineStar Press

Goodreads

Editing digital photos to make fruits and vegetables appear perfectly ripe, juicy, and seductive was not where I thought my life would end up.

When I’d chosen photography as the focus of my fine arts degree at the University of Waterloo in Southern Ontario, I had imagined somewhat more exciting subject matter. But most of my assignments these days involved long hours spent hunched on my elbows in the dirt, taking alluring shots of farm produce.

On my very fancy and expensive computer monitor, a ray of morning sunlight bounced off the red skin of a plump tomato. I’d tried several filters and a range of exposures to get it just right, but something wasn’t working.

I clicked on another set of tools and looked for a different approach. While I perused the list, my phone pinged from where it lay on the desk.

I glanced at the screen to see a text from an unknown number:

Mr. Lambert, is it OK if I give you a call in a few moments? My name is Adam Marsland. I was given your name and contact info by Jaden Stevenson. I’m looking for a photographer.

Since referrals had gotten me to where I was in my life at the moment—a recognized purveyor of outstanding photographic interpretations of reality—I texted Mr. Marsland back immediately.

Of course. Give me five minutes.

I input Adam Marsland as a contact and stood from my chair. My neck cracked when I stretched it to the side, and again when I repeated the motion in the other direction. I was only thirty years old, but sitting in one position for too long was bad for anyone. I reached my arms up and over my head, feeling the pull in my muscles.

Moving into the kitchen of my small condo on Toronto’s East Side, I grabbed a tumbler, pressed the button on my fridge for cold water, and watched the stream of liquid splash into the glass. It would be fortuitous if Mr. Marsland could offer me a contract for some images. I was booked up until mid-June but, after that, things looked a bit sparse.

I carried my drink to the living room window and gazed out on the city. Living on the fifteenth floor afforded me the luxury of a stunning view, even if the square footage was small. At least the finishes and upgrades in this unit were of the highest quality and done according to the latest trends. I’d been able to furnish the tiny apartment with quality pieces, like the Eames chair and a tan leather love seat from West Elm, since I didn’t need many.

When my ringtone sounded, I walked back to my desk, put the glass down, and pressed the answer button, remaining on my feet since I’d been sitting for the past hour and a half.

“Mr. Marsland,” I said.

“Mr. Lambert. Good afternoon. How are you today?”

“Fine, thanks. What can I do for you?” I asked, taking a sip from my glass.

Mr. Marsland cleared his throat, and I heard the click of a pen. “I’m hoping you can come to my ranch and take some photos for me. You come highly recommended.”

I smiled, because it was always nice to hear that. “Thanks. Jaden mentioned me?”

“Yes. He thinks you’d be perfect for what we need.”

“I’m pretty booked up at the moment. What time frame are we looking at?”

“I’d need you to spend part of the summer here, if you’re available, and interested. You’ll be compensated well and we can put you in a room at the main house during your stay.”

Perfect.

“I do have most of the summer free at the moment. Are you talking three weeks? Six?”

Papers rustled on Mr. Marsland’s end. “Six weeks. From mid-July to the end of August.”

I walked back to my computer and put the glass down beside it. “And I’d be photographing horses? Riders? The landscape, too, I suppose?”

There was a pause, and he laughed. “We’re not that kind of ranch, Mr. Lambert.”

I narrowed my eyes at the red tomato that had tortured me with its saucy round form all morning. Mr. Marsland’s comment intrigued me.

“Call me Oliver. And what exactly do you mean?”

“The name of my…business…is the Braided Crop Ranch. We’re really a club, of sorts, with a resort hotel on the premises.”

Hmm. “Oh. And you offer riding as part of the resort experience?”

Mr. Marsland laughed. “No. No riding. Only ponies.”

“I’m sorry. I’m a bit confused about—”

“We’re a fetish ranch, Oliver. Pony play. Human ponies. In leather harnesses and other…accoutrements.”

I blinked quickly, my eyes flitting from the tomato to the glass of water on my desk as my mouth went dry.

“Oh. I see.”

Holy… That was not where I thought this conversation was going. A fetish ranch? My mind conjured up bizarre images of people in horse costumes. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

Adam laughed again. “Look, why don’t I text you the link to our website, where we have some older images, and you can call me back if you’re interested. And just text me a ‘No, thanks’ if you’re not.”

That…made sense. My mind reeled from the information but also honed in razor-sharp on the fact that this would be a very different assignment from anything I’d done in the past.

“All right. That sounds fine.”

“I hope to hear from you within the next hour. But if I don’t, no harm, no foul. What we’d be looking for are updated, artistic images for the website and our brochures—maybe a selection of shots to sell in our gift shop. Have a look, and if you think you can work with us, call me back. At any rate, it was great to speak with you, Oliver.”

“Same, Mr. Marsland.”

“Adam. Please.”

“Okay. Thanks, Adam. I’ve got your text, so I’ll have a look.”

“Excellent. Hope to speak to you soon.”

I closed the call and clicked the link in the text from Adam. My browser opened, and a “Welcome” page loaded.

The Braided Crop Ranch scrolled in elegant but readable script overtop an idyllic scene of what looked like a regular farmhouse and barns in a woodland setting. Then a warning window popped up, informing me I had to be eighteen or older to enter the site.

Hmm. Well, I was thirty, so I clicked it.

Welcome to the Braided Crop Ranch.

A fetish farm for pony play enthusiasts…

AE Lister/Elizabeth Lister is a Canadian non-binary author with a vivid imagination and a head full of unique and interesting characters. They have published many other books, one of which (Beyond the Edge) received an Honorable Mention from the National Leather Association–International for excellence in SM/Leather/Fetish writing.

Author Links

Website: https://www.aelister.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/aelister.elizabethlister/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/lizbethlister

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