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All the Way to Shore by CJane Elliott: Audio Book Release Blitz, Excerpt and Giveaway

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What happens when a cruise ship romance crashes on the rocky shores of reality?

Poor-little-rich-boy Jonathan Vallen is the heir to Vallen Industries, but is more interested in music and gardens. He clashes with new CEO Marco Pellegrini, a self-made man and rising star in business, who is brought in to salvage the company. Jonathan gladly leaves Vallen and moves to Cape Cod. When they meet again on an LGBTQ Caribbean cruise, Marco doesn’t recognize Jonathan, who has spent a year transforming from an ugly duckling into a very sexy swan. After Marco shows interest and sparks fly, Jonathan reluctantly assumes a false identity, egged on by his cousin Anthony. None of them expect a shipboard fling to deepen into true love.

Back on land, the romance crashes when Marco discovers his perfect man is not only a lie but the son of his boss, Frederick Vallen. Jonathan resolves to win Marco back, but Frederick takes vengeful action. Jonathan and Marco must battle their own fears as well as Frederick’s challenge to get to the future that awaits them on the horizon.

Title: All the Way to Shore

Author: CJane Elliott

Narrated by: Tim McKiernan

Publisher: Self-Published

Original Release Date: 11/23/16

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 5 hrs and 55 mins

Genre: Romance, Contemporary

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The strains of a steel band mingled in the air with the tantalizing aroma of meat on the grill. Jonathan was thinking about getting something to eat when Anthony suddenly clutched his arm.

“Jonny! Over there!” Anthony practically hissed the words as he jerked his head to the right.

“What?” Jonathan took another sip of his sangria, not too concerned. Anthony got worked up about everything.

“I think that’s Marco Pellegrini!”

He lifted his head and stared in the direction Anthony indicated. A tall, dark-haired man in glasses stood surveying the crowd next to a younger woman bearing a strong resemblance to him. Both were stunningly good-looking. The man’s tousled curls were longer than Jonathan remembered Marco’s being. But when the breeze lifted them from his face, his Roman nose and defined cheekbones were unmistakable. So was the amazing body clad in a tank top and shorts ensemble that managed to combine elegance with sexiness. Damn. It was Marco. “On this cruise? I thought he was engaged or something. And straight.”

“Guess not. I knew that guy was gay!”

“I think you mean bi.” Jonathan’s mouth grew dry as Marco squinted in their direction, and the humiliation of their past encounters rose in his mind. “Oh, damn, damn it, Tony. What’s he doing here?”

He was about to turn and flee to their stateroom when Anthony said, “He’s staring at you, Jonny. I think he likes what he sees. Stop fidgeting! Let’s go over and say hi.”

“Are you kidding?” Jonathan whispered. “I never want to see that guy again. And he for sure doesn’t want to see me!”

“No? Then why’s he walking over here? My God, the man is gorgeous! If you don’t want him, I get him.”

“You—” Jonathan cut himself off because Marco was indeed strolling in their direction, the woman at his side.

Anthony grabbed Jonathan by the arm and all but dragged him closer, then beamed at Marco. “Hello, there!”

While Jonathan tried not to die a thousand deaths, Marco smiled and said, “Hello.” He showed no recognition that he’d ever met Jonathan before. What he did show, shockingly, was a rather blatant interest in him, running his eyes up and down Jonathan’s body before saying, “I’m Marco.” Jonathan had never seen Marco in shorts or a close-fitting tank before and was having a hard time breathing at the sight of his tanned shapely legs and muscled shoulders.

The woman, who had to be his sister or cousin, nodded at them and smiled warmly. “And I’m Sophia. We’re also known as the Pellegrini twins, only we’re not really twins. Just sister and brother.”

Before Jonathan could respond, Anthony jumped in. “Nice to meet you! I’m Andrew Arrington, and this is my cousin, Jonah Rutledge.”

Jonathan felt his mouth drop open. Then he gave a weak smile, still poised to flee, sure that Marco was going to recognize him any moment. “Um, hello. Where are you from?” After they got through this fiasco, he planned to kill his cousin.

After years of hearing characters chatting away in her head, CJane Elliott finally decided to put them on paper and hasn’t looked back since. A psychotherapist by training, CJane enjoys writing sexy, passionate stories that also explore the human psyche. CJane has traveled all over North America for work and her characters are travelers, too, traveling down into their own depths to find what they need to get to the happy ending.

CJane is an ardent supporter of LGBTQ equality and is particularly fond of coming out stories.

In her spare time, CJane can be found dancing, listening to music, or watching old movies. Her husband and son support her writing habit by staying out of the way when they see her hunched over, staring intensely at her laptop. Be sure to check out CJane’s new Facebook Group! https://www.facebook.com/groups/RainbowReadersClub.

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A Husband for Santa by Doreen Heron: Release Day Blitz, Excerpt, and Giveaway

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Father Christmas knows his time delivering presents is coming to an end, and his son is more than ready to take his place at the helm of the sleigh. But family tradition stands in Turk’s way.

He must find a Mrs. Claus to help share the burden. Unfortunately for tradition, he would rather a husband than a wife, and he doesn’t have time to meet anyone anyway.

At the same time, Christmasologist and PhD candidate Symeon Golightly finds himself sad and alone over the holidays.

Maybe a chance encounter and a Christmas wish will bring them together.

Title:  A Husband for Santa

Author: Doreen Heron

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: December 23, 2019

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 20600

Genre: Holiday, LGBT, Folklore, magic, elves, Christmas, romance, fantasy

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Chapter One

“Prepare the landing bay to receive the sleigh. I repeat, prepare the landing bay to receive the sleigh. We expect the mission to be terminated in fifteen minutes. I repeat, the sleigh is fifteen minutes away.”

The elves began to scramble, thousands of them getting to their feet and running from dormitories and lounges, through the glistening silver ice corridors and into the straw-lined landing bay. With nimble fingers, trained through years of constructing toys and preparing lists, they padded out stables with fresh straw and hay. They filled troughs with water and bowls with cereals and carrots. They swept the solid snow that had drifted in when the sleigh left and dried up the pools of water where the snow had warmed enough to melt. The elf children, too young to have any real responsibilities yet but old enough to graduate over the year and take on jobs for the following Christmas, took a break from observing and making notes and leapt to the gas lamps, lighting them to give the reindeer a cozy environment to come home to.

“We expect the mission to be terminated in ten minutes. I repeat, the sleigh is ten minutes away.”

Some of the older elves, particularly those celebrating their final Christmases, jumped as Turk’s voice boomed over the loudspeaker. They hadn’t enjoyed this particular “innovation” and much preferred when his father had been in training and instead came to each of them in turn to make the announcements personally. They were glad to be retiring to let the younger generations—who didn’t seem to be quite as attached to the traditional ways—take the reins. En masse, the elves retreated to the back of the room, where they surveyed their work. It looked nice. Cozy. They wanted nothing more than for the reindeer to be able to rest as soon as they arrived home, and for Father Christmas himself to feel the wave of relaxation hit him after finishing his deliveries for another year. The younger generations waited with bated breath as Inger—the oldest elf and Chieftain of their little tribe—surveyed the room. She pointed to a corner where one last errant cobweb was stubbornly clinging to a beam, and one of the children leapt to a broom and scurried to clear it away.

“We expect the mission to be terminated in five minutes. I repeat, the sleigh is five minutes away.”

Inger surveyed the room again and smiled as she was satisfied with what she saw. Her team had served her well, this final Christmas. She nodded to the corner, where an elf stood alone. He was easily two heads taller than the others, almost the size of one of the human children for whom they made presents and was well muscled. At Inger’s nod, he turned to the wheel at his side and began to crank it. A creaking sound boomed from the timber roof, as it began to part. At once, the elderly elves started their chant, an ancient elven magic to protect the stable against the elements. The snow itself obeyed them, falling to settle on the roof and avoiding the hole that was emerging. When it was wide enough for the sleigh to fit, the muscled elf stopped cranking. But the elderly continued to sing, keeping the heat generated by the gas lamps inside the room, and keeping out the snow that was falling so violently.

“The sleigh has been sighted over the Crystalline Falls. I am on my way. I repeat, Turk is en route.”

The elderly elves rankled at the announcement. Never before had a Santa-in-Training ever felt the need to oversee the landing. It had always been a privilege afforded to the elves as a reward for their hard work. But times were changing, and all new Father Christmases had to put their own mark on the role.

Turk’s mark, it seemed to the elves, was micromanagement.

But they continued to chant, regardless. One slip in their song and winter would get into the landing bay, undoing all their work and discomforting Father Christmas and his eight faithful deer who had fit an entire year of work into a single night. And not one of them was prepared to let that happen.

The chanting could be heard across the palace. Turk emerged from the control room and stopped for a second to listen.

The sound of the elves was the sound of his life. Of hours waiting for his father to come home from work and tell stories of all the children to whom he had delivered gifts. Of those he thought Turk might like to be friends with if it were ever possible to leave Polynya. Those who had grown older and who chose not to believe in him anymore, just because their parents had chosen not to believe. Those who ignored all the evidence right in front of them that proved he existed, and instead put blind faith in parents who had no evidence other than what their parents had told them, who relied only on what their parents had told them before. Those were the stories that saddened Turk the most, particularly when he entered his teenage years and the children who he had considered peers and friends stopped believing.

They no longer wanted him to exist.

It was a happy song and a sad song. A song of hope and joy and obligation and loss. And in that moment, as he finally allowed himself a break in his work to take stock, he felt the loss of his own father about to retire and the joy of his own life about to begin.

He took a deep breath to steel himself. He couldn’t allow the elves to see his moment of weakness. Yes, they may have raised him and bathed him and changed his diapers, but as of the moment his father touched down in the sleigh, he was Father Christmas, and he had to lead them as a general leads his troops.

He had a family legacy to live up to.

He set his jaw, strong and stubbled, and took a moment to wipe the tears from his icy blue eyes. He pulled himself upright, towering over the elves at six feet and two inches and straightened his back. He’d read a book that said good posture commanded respected, and he needed his elves to respect him.

The echo of his black leather jackboots clattered through the ice corridors as he strode to the landing bay. Another tip from his book. Walk with a heavy step and make your presence known before you arrive so people know you’re there. He wasn’t entirely sure if that one applied to working from his own home, but he figured the author knew what he was talking about and was quite determined to follow all the advice on offer.

The torches lining the walls lit as he approached and extinguished as he walked by—lit long enough so that he could see, but not so long that they would begin to melt the walls. He moved deftly through the maze-like corridors and hallways, following the shortcut he’d figured out when he was a child and wanted to trick the elves into thinking his magic had developed. The truth was it would have been easier for him to teleport into the Landing Bay, but that didn’t quite make as much of an impact on the sound of his boots on the ice floors.

And it was all about the impact.

The elves scrambled out of the way as the two solid pine doors to the landing bay swung open, and Turk strode in. Quickly, they pulled themselves back together and stood to attention as he had taught them. The elderly elves objected to this, finding the position highly uncomfortable, and their hearts were glad they were required to carry on chanting.

“At ease,” he commanded, and the elves moved fluidly into position. Even the children, keen to impress their future boss, joined in and tried hard not to giggle as Turk walked back and forth past them, looking them over. “You are well presented, in spite of tonight’s working conditions. I’m glad I’m finally getting through to you.”

Inger chaffed at his words and closed her eyes to drown out what he was saying so she could focus on the ancient and magical words of her people.

“The loading bay is acceptable,” he continued, striding around the bay and peering into each hay-filled stall. “I feel we will have much work to do over the coming year to modernize this space and maximize efficiency, but that will come on December 26. For now, this is acceptable.”

A single snowflake fell through the opening in the roof as Inger let her guard slip. The Landing Bay had never been merely “acceptable” on her watch. Nor on her mother’s. Nor on her grandmother’s. She and the Matriarchs took their role seriously, and they worked hard to ensure that everything was done to perfection. Thankfully, the flake melted long before it was noticed by anyone other than her. She felt it fall as she felt her concentration lapse, and she certainly wouldn’t allow herself to do anything that he would merely consider to be “acceptable.”

She was so looking forward to retirement.

She felt for her daughter, who would need to take the reins and put up with Turk’s peculiar brand of nonsense.

A roar of wind and snow occurred overhead, and the children became antsy in anticipation of what was about to happen. Turk looked up and nodded, happy the elements were being kept out of the landing bay and satisfied the roof was open enough to allow the sleigh in so it could land. He squinted and saw a very faint red light in the distance.

“Showtime, ladies and gentlemen,” he said. The elves scrambled once again, lining up along the walls and the stall doors, leaving as much floor space as possible free for the sleigh to come in and land. While still chanting, the elderly elves walked to the far north wall, against which was set a raised platform. They walked up onto the platform and stood, choirlike, continuing their chant for the last few moments of their careers.

They were ready.

Turk joined them on the stage, running his hand through his dirty blond hair and smoothing down his wine-red suit. This was his moment. The moment he had spent his whole life preparing for. From the moment his father landed the sleigh, he would take charge, and the next Christmas would be his. His book had said to “make sure one presents oneself properly” from the very beginning of the job.

He was ready.

The red pinpoint of light grew bigger and bigger as the distant sound of sleigh bells began to chime. Turk took a deep breath and shifted his weight from foot to foot. He would never admit he was nervous and was almost positive the churning in his stomach was caused by the questionable reindeer meat in the curry which his mother had served the night before. But as he straightened his red tie for the fifth time that minute, the elves could see he was nervous. A couple of the children sniggered and pointed, but the others had sympathy for him. They knew his dad was a popular Father Christmas, and so he had a lot to live up to.

And if some of them were honest with themselves, they weren’t sure he would.

The sound of the sleigh bells grew louder and louder until finally the sleigh itself hovered overhead. The deer were well rehearsed by now and hovered in place until they were given the order to descend. It was a silent command, given by a Father Christmas who had spent two centuries working with each family line. He allowed for a delicate lowering of deer and sleigh alike until its wooden rails and thirty-two hooves set down on the landing bay’s tiled floor. At once, the elves scrambled into action and the bay became a hive of interaction. The elves turned the wheel, and the roof closed. The elves standing by the stall gates unlatched them, and then headed to their own deer, unhooking them and leading them over to their stall. First Rudolph, then Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen, and so on until all nine were safely locked away and gratefully lapping their water.

As they were working hurriedly, Inger and the other elderly elves made their way to the sleigh and helped Father Christmas. He was wobbly on his feet as he stood but was able to make his way down to the landing bay floor entirely unaided.

“Turk,” he called, his voice booming through the Bay. “Please see to it that the sack is returned to its rightful spot.”

“Of course, Papa,” Turk replied. He turned to an elf, the only elf currently unemployed, and gave the command. “You heard him. Take the sack to the—”

“No, Turk.” His father stopped by the pine doors. “I asked you to please take the sack and put it away.”

“But Papa. This is what the elves are—”

“The elves are not your slaves, Turk. They work for the children, not for you. Now, please put the sack away and then meet me in the Lounge.”

“The Debriefing Room,” Turk corrected his father under his breath as he made his way to the sleigh and pulled the large, empty, hessian sack from the back seat. It looked so different with the enchantments faded and the magic gone for another year. Now, it was loose and malleable and normal.

He didn’t like it.

Carefully, he laid it out on the floor, careful to ensure no elf trampled over it and folded it in half, and then half again, and then half again. There was no ceremony to the sack any more, and that made him a little sad. He very much enjoyed being a child and watching his father and Inger fold it carefully and then carry it solemnly to its room to be put away. He looked at Inger, who was observing him carefully, and was certain he saw a tear in her holly-green eye. It was a shame, he thought, that she so disliked him that she refused to even help him with the sack ceremony.

“At least there will be new Elders next year,” he mused, picking up the sack and carefully making his way out of the landing bay along the twisting corridors toward the Toy Room. “Maybe the new Matriarch will want to do the ceremony with me.” The Toy Room doors slid open, and he walked amongst the empty shelves to the illuminated glass box where the sack resided during the off-season. Gently, he opened the box and placed the sack inside. As it hit the bottom of the glass, it began to shine in gentle hues of red and green and gold, its magic immediately beginning to replenish and rejuvenate. “I’ll see you next year,” Turk whispered to it before he turned around and tiptoed to the Debriefing Room.

He saw no need to announce his presence to his own father.

 

Doreen Heron is a writer who is finally living her dream in Cornwall, England. She is lucky to live in the county she loves, and to be using her writing to entertain her readers.

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Notes from Home by Dirk Greyson: Exclusive Excerpt, Blog Tour and New Release Review

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While deployed on a covert mercenary assignment, Johnny doesn’t have much in the way of holiday cheer. But the mysterious notes from Dex that somehow appear in his bunk—reminding him of the gifts, cookies, celebrations, and most of all, love, waiting for him back in Wisconsin—help him get through the long, hot days. Will they be enough to keep his spirits up when the rest of his unit goes home to their families and he’s left alone?

Title: Notes From Home

Author: Dirk Greyson

Series: Stand Alone

Genre: M/M, Contemporary, Holiday Romance

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press

Release Date: Dec 1 2019

Edition/Formats: eBook & Print

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I set the letter aside and closed my eyes, thinking I could almost reach out and touch him. Dex seemed so close for a moment, but he wasn’t here, and I was spending another holiday away from the people I knew, just like I had for the last eight years. Outside, it was hot enough to fry eggs on the vehicle hoods, and yet for a few seconds, the bracing cold and covering of white back home had carried me away.

I stood up, put the letter back in the envelope, and set it next to the other three on the board just above my bed, the carefully crafted construction-paper snowman joining a Christmas tree, an ornament, and a Santa. I stilled, looking at all four of them, and sighed for just a second. Then the door to our quarters opened and thunked closed, popping the bubble of imagination and longing. I turned away from the letters and gathered my things before heading toward the bathroom and a much-needed shower. I stepped out of my cubicle, and Henry Cavit waved from the far side, stopping me.

This was a very short little story, but it was so heartwarming. It didn’t need to have a lot of background to really get the feel of the story.

Dex made mystery happen for Johnny who never really had a chance to have a happy holiday at home. So, Dex made it as happy as he could away from home. I won’t give away much, but I will say, the puppy on the cover does come into play 😉 and there is a happy ending. 🙂

4 pieces of eye candy for this short but sweet holiday story

Dirk is very much an outside kind of man.  He loves travel and seeing new things.  Dirk worked in corporate America for way too long and now spends his days writing, gardening, and taking care of the home he shares with his partner of more than two decades.  He has a Master’s Degree and all the other accessories that go with a corporate job.  But he is most proud of the stories he tells and the life he’s built.  Dirk lives in Pennsylvania in a century old home and is blessed with an amazing circle of friends.

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We Still Live by Sara Dobie Bauer: Blog Tour with Exclusive Guest Post, Excerpt

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Today we have the author of We Still Live, a book so relevant to today’s society. We asked Sara Dobie Bauer to tell us a little about Writing Realistic Characters with Mental Illness, and she has a very personal take on the situation. Take a peek, and then read the excerpt. You will want to grab this book!

To escape the past, accept it.

Running from a scandal that ruined his life, Isaac Twain accepts a teaching position at Hambden University where, three months prior, Professor John Conlon stopped a campus nightmare by stepping in front of an active shooter.

When John and Isaac become faculty advisors for the school’s literary magazine, their professional relationship evolves. Despite the strict code of conduct forbidding faculty fraternization, they delve into a secret affair—until Simon arrives.

Isaac’s violent ex threatens not only their careers, but also John’s life. His PTSD triggered, John must come to terms with that bloody day on College Green while Isaac must accept the heartbreak his secrets have wrought.

***WE STILL LIVE is a standalone M/M friends-to-lovers romance featuring detailed adult content, graphic violence, hurt/comfort, and mental illness.***

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Book Title: We Still Live

Author: Sara Dobie Bauer

Publisher: NineStar Press

Cover Artist: Natasha Snow

Release Date: December 9, 2019

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance

Tropes: Friends to lovers, hurt/comfort

Themes: Coming out, depression, anxiety, PTSD/post-traumatic stress, mental illness

Heat Rating:  4 flames

Length: 62 000 words

It is a standalone book.

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Writing Realistic Characters with Mental Illness By Sara Dobie Bauer

My new novel We Still Live deals with some heavy stuff. Not only are the characters haunted by a college shooting, but they also must now survive the ramifications of that shooting—most notably, their destroyed mental health.

At the forefront of the story is romantic interest John Conlon, the hero professor who stepped in front of an active shooter. John is passionate and kind and gorgeous (of course), loved by his students and friends alike. However, since the shooting, John is different. He now suffers from depression, extreme anxiety, PTSD, and night terrors.

Who could blame him? He saw students and friends murdered. He felt their blood on his hands, and he survived—but has yet to heal. Newly hired professor Isaac Twain falls for John, considering it’s difficult to not be charmed by this charismatic, beautiful man who seems so strong when he’s absolutely shattered inside.

So where did John come from? How did I develop this complicated character whose mental illness is as much a part of him as his fabulous hair?

I admit, I did some research. I read up on college shootings (which is not fun, let me tell you). I live in a small Ohio town that was shaken by a high school shooting a few years before I moved there. I’ve watched the news and seen the horrors of Paris, Atlanta, insert yet another tragedy here. But the honest to God truth?

John’s mental illness is realistic because I live it every day.

I’m thirty-seven now, but I’ve been suffering from depression and nightmares since puberty. The anxiety and PTSD showed up due to a high pressure hell job that threw my life off-balance. I’m now medicated to deal with all these issues. I revisit therapy when things get really bad. I stopped watching the news, and a lot of that had to do with the myriad shootings that seem to occur daily.

I wrote We Still Live for selfish reasons. It is an exorcism. I took all my fear, pain, and rage and channeled it into John and the other survivors of the fictional Hambden University shooting. Writer, heal thyself, within the safe cocoon of your imagination.

You’ve heard the adage, “Write what you know.” I don’t agree with that in most cases, but I agree with that statement here. Writing fiction has always been a comfort to me. It’s an escape from reality when reality becomes too hard. It’s a hell of a lot healthier than drinking and drugs.

Maybe you suffer from mental illness, too. Maybe there’s an issue that scares you or gets your heart pumping. Maybe you start writing. Iadmit, penning We Still Live wasn’t easy. Putting John and Isaac through the wringer wasn’t fun, and I had days when I would type through my tears. But I kept going, because their story is important to me and hopefully will be to other people, too.

How did I write a realistic character with mental illness? I looked inside myself. What ghouls are in your closet begging to be set free? You never know who you might help by being open about your issues. You might help some troubled reader out there realize they aren’t alone. Like John, you might even save a life.

Close as they were to the foyer, Isaac was the first to notice the front door opening. A student walked inside. The kid dragged a heavy-looking suitcase behind him. Dressed as he was in a slim-fitting button-down, Isaac immediately assumed preppy, although that assumption altered and changed when taking into account the tight black jeans, Converse sneakers, and shaggy hair the color of caramel and chocolate—a mass of waves and curls that fell down the back of his neck but not quite to his shoulders.

The kid pushed his hair out of the way and looked up, eyes finding Isaac and flashing a moment of panicked nonrecognition before seeing Tommy.

“Um.” Isaac pointed toward the new arrival.

Tommy turned and shouted, “John! My man!”

Not a student, then.

Tommy wrapped John in a hug that actually lifted his feet off the ground. Isaac imagined it wouldn’t be difficult. The new guy might have been average height, but he was gangly, skin and bones.

Tommy ruffled his hair. “Have you lost weight?”

John grumbled and scratched his face with his middle finger. “What are you freeloaders doing in my house?” His voice was surprisingly resonant for someone Isaac considered “pretty.” At John’s pronouncement, crows of approval rang from every direction.

“Come meet Isaac,” Tommy said.

John wiped his palms on his jeans before reaching out to shake, and Isaac’s large hand dwarfed his.

“Isaac Twain is the newest addition to our special corner of Hambden hell. Isaac, this is John Conlon.”

John brushed more hair out of his face. “Nice to—”

“John Conlon?”

John and Tommy froze.

Isaac jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “The books on the shelf. Those are yours?”

John’s face, immobile in what looked like dread a moment before, melted into relief, tinged with a bit of blush. “Oh, yeah. You’ve read?”

“No, but I should. You’ve published a lot of books. You must be good.”

John’s nose wrinkled, and he looked away.

Tommy shook him by the shoulders. “John is an amazing writer. He had a story published in The New Yorker when he was, like, five. Are you working on anything right now?”

John glanced at the bookshelf. “Not lately.”

“You need a drink,” Tommy said.

John’s eyes widened on a big breath. “God, yes, I do.”

“Nice to meet you,” Isaac said, but John just nodded quickly, smile thin, before allowing himself to be herded farther into the house toward the sound of quiet laughter and clinking bottles.

Isaac felt it then—an outsider’s emptiness. He became a nervous-looking coat rack in the corner, a terrified tree waiting for the ax. As the party doubled in auditory volume, he bemoaned his spilled wine. Was it okay for him to leave? It wasn’t like he was supposed to make a speech. He was only there because he figured it was the easiest way to meet everyone before the first official faculty meeting, but he’d been standing around too long. He wanted to run.

Out of curiosity, he reopened John’s book from earlier and read the front flap. It was a coming-of-age story about a gay kid in the Midwest. He flipped to the back, and a picture of John stared back at him. He’d assumed the guy was tired when they first met, but no; apparently, John had perpetual bedroom eyes, and his hair was always an artful mess. He skimmed…creative writing professor at Hambden University…gay rights activist…Converse-wearer and “old-people music” enthusiast.

All arrows pointed to John’s probable sexual preference for men. A spark of interest flickered but quickly went out. True, John Conlon was what most people would consider beautiful, but he wasn’t Isaac’s type. John was the kind of man butch guys fought over in gay clubs, but he was too small for Isaac, too fragile-looking, girly. After all he’d been through, the last thing Isaac wanted was someone feminine.

A thin figure ducked into the library and literally hid against the doorframe. He took a long drink of something brown and leaned his head back. “It’s not good when you want to hide in your own house.”

“Library is the best place for it,” Isaac said.

John kicked away from the wall. “Tommy mentioned you just moved here? I’ve been in Lothos forever, so if you need anything…” He examined Isaac from his brown boat shoes to the top of his blond head. John’s large eyes, dark green, seemed bottomless—drowning pools of intellect and soul—only slightly overshadowed by his thick eyebrows.

Sara Dobie Bauer is a bestselling author, model, and mental health / LGBTQ advocate with a creative writing degree from Ohio University. She lives with her hottie husband and two precious pups in Northeast Ohio, although she’d really like to live in a Tim Burton film. She is author of the paranormal rom-com Bite Somebody series and Escape Trilogy.

Photo credit: Bill Thornhill

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Unbreakable (A Heaven and Hell Club Prequel) by Colette Davison: Release Day Blitz, Excerpt and Reviews

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Mac’s life isn’t perfect, but he likes it the way it is: safe and predictable.

Mac works in a struggling pole dancing club at night, and a gym during the day. He’s tired and cash strapped, but content, until a confident twink walks into the club and turns his life upside down. It’s hard to resist when Russel asks him to be his fake boyfriend for one night, in return for double his normal take-home pay.

One date turns into more, as Mac helps Russel get an exclusive that will secure him the job he’s always wanted. But the rich playboy who holds Russel’s career in his hands isn’t going to give him the scoop so easily.

As Mac and Russel spend more time together, the lines between fake and real begin to get blurred, but can their relationship become strong enough to be unbreakable in the face of adversity?

Unbreakable is a fake boyfriend MM romance, with a buff pole dancer who swears like a trooper, a twink who likes to take charge, some spanking, light bondage, and a happy ever after. It’s a prequel story to Broken, but can be read as a standalone romance.

Book Title: Unbreakable (a Heaven and Hell Club prequel)

Author: Colette Davison

Publisher: Independently published

Cover Artist: Colette Davison

Release Date: November 14, 2019

Genre/s: Contemporary M/M Romance

Trope/s: Fake boyfriend

Themes: Self-belief, stronger together, faithfulness, friendship

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 65 000 words

It’s a prequel to Broken, but can be read as a standalone.

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The city centre was packed, and a steady stream of well-dressed shoppers moved in and out of the posh department store. Mac really didn’t belong there, let alone loitering outside it. He was about to give up and go home—he’d been waiting for almost half an hour—when Russel appeared out of the crowd and flounced up to him.

“You were early!”

Mac narrowed his eyes. “You’re late.”

Russel waved his hand. “Only by a few minutes.” His eyes travelled up and down Mac’s body, full lips pursed thoughtfully. “Are those the nicest clothes you’ve got?”

Mac looked down at his tatty jeans, threadbare coat, and death metal T-shirt. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Russel nodded towards the doors to the store. “We might have a problem getting in there. Not to worry.” He looped his arm through Mac’s. “There are plenty of other shops in Leeds. This way.”

Mac opened his mouth to object but snapped it shut again.

“I thought we’d do a bit of shopping and then grab a coffee somewhere,” Russel said. “We need to get a few facts straight before this evening.”

“What facts?”

“How long we’ve been together, what star sign we both are, favourite colours, hobbies… that sort of thing.”

“Is that really necessary?”

“Yes!”

Mac shook his head. Russel probably wasn’t a psycho, but he was a demanding son of a bitch. There was no way he was going to remember those kinds of stupid details about a fucking stranger. He kept his thoughts to himself. Russel was paying him, and that was all that mattered.

I read and reviewed Broken by this author and being that this was a prequel to that, I definitely wanted to read it. Honestly, I wish I had read this first and then Broken. Or this, then another book with Michael and Edward as the main characters and then Broken.

As a cute, fake boyfriend story, it was highly readable. But at the same time, Broken was so angsty and I knew what was coming, it kind of took away a little bit from me. Not a ton because the focus is on different couples, but still.

Overall, Mac and Russel were pretty adorable together, even though Russel was almost a caricature of a stereotypical flamboyant gay man . And once they got down to it, they lit my kindle on fire. But there was a lot of repetitive language used to seemingly fill up the pages. And the resolution of the biggest plot point in the book was completely anti climatic and sort of an after thought.

It’s cute, sexy, but fluffy. If you haven’t read Broken yet, definitely read this one first so you don’t have that cloud lingering that you know what is coming.

3 Pieces of Candy

Okay, so this is a prequel and there is already one established couple so I’m not sure if I missed any other stories in the series so far, but if I did, it didn’t feel like it. So, Mac is a dancer at a club, though I honestly don’t remember what it’s called, but, he works with two close friends/chosen family, Edward and Michael. They’re the already established couple and remember them because they’re the ones who have plans for the Heaven and Hell club… the place now, is a seedy little place where customers aren’t what they once were and their owner/boss is greedy and lazy and just not a nice guy. It seems jerks who get away with being jerks is a thing in stories I’m reading lately… but anyway…. It’s just another night on the grind when Russel walks in in all his beautiful glory and Mac is intrigued but the pair of them are so different. Color him surprised when Russel propositions him but it’s not the type he’s used to.

Russel is the “layout guy” but what he really wants to do is become a journalist. When he gets an opportunity to write a piece for one of the most fashionable bachelors, he thinks his luck is about to change when his boss gives him a chance to cover it. Never mind he’s only doing it because Russel is gay and so is Remy, the bachelor in question, but he doesn’t look the gift horse in the mouth and takes the job, with the stipulation that it’s a couple’s party, even though Remy is very single. After trying his few friends to pose as his boyfriend, someone suggests Mac and it’s not such a bad idea, right?

Playing a fake boyfriend never works out according to plan.. We already knew that these two were going to fall in love and why wouldn’t they? They’re adorable together and I loved how loyal they were to one another. When the fake part goes out the window, I adored them together. Russel is so confident and sassy that I’m surprised he ever lets anyone get anything on over him and Mac is strong yet vuernerable and I love love love that stereotypes are thrown out the window in this one. Just because Mac is the muscled up, broody guy, doesn’t make him a top… he’s actually almost strictly bottom and not only that, he likes to be dominated…. Or maybe not dominated, as it isn’t that dark… but maybe controlled a bit, though only by Russel. He trusted him from the get go and I liked that…. And just because Russel is a makeup wearing ball of sass, doesn’t mean he’ll take crap from anyone… he surely doesn’t and he knows just what Mac needs to make him crazy for him. It was hot. I liked that neither of them were what I was expecting.

What I hate more than anything, though, and you’ll know it, if you’ve read any of my reviews….ever.. is that I’m way too petty and callous to not want retribution against someone who has wronged me. It’s the type of person I am. I hate when people get taken advantage of, I hate manipulators and I despise when people get away with being jerks. Entitled A-holes and this sstory is full of them.

Remy, who you’ll realize pretty early on is the most manipulative and the story mainly focuses on him and what he tries to do to the couple, and honestly, I cannot believe people act like him, he’s the epitome of SPOILED, entitled and bratty… it’s almost laughable how bratty and immature, but I hated him immediately and really really hated him by the end, though I’m glad he somewhat got put in his place. What I hated, is that both of their bosses, the greedy pos and then Russel’s boss, who was so immorally disgusting, the way spoke to Russel and the situations he put him in were absolutely unethical and he should’ve lost his job at the very least. I hated that he screwed over Russel and just gets to go about his way being an awful fake human being. I wished for karmic justice on him too….

BUT, I’ll digress, because it could just be my mood and the fact that I’ve read just jerky characters lately, but the overall love story between Mac and Russel, I loved…which is the point, here LOL
I loved their friendships that they had, that hopefully you’ll see more of in the series… I loved their loyalty to one another and the trust they had in each other. I loved seeing them fall in love with other, when their start was less than ideal and a little cliché, and I loved how things ended for the both of them and they got such a sweet happy ending. I’m not sure I’ll read anymore from the series, but it is very well written and worth the read.

4 pieces of eye candy

Colette’s personal love story began at university, where she met her future husband. An evening of flirting, in the shadow of Lancaster castle, eventually led to a fairytale wedding. She’s enjoying her own ‘happy ever after’ in the north of England with her husband, two beautiful children and her writing.

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Claiming Marcus (Lords of Discord Book 1) by Jocelynn Drake: Exclusive Guest Post, Excerpt, New Release Reviews and Giveaway

by

Vampires slaughtered my family.

No one believed me until I met some new friends, who promised to help me get justice.

But nothing prepared me for Marcus Varik.

Tall, dark, and mind-numbingly sexy.

But he’s also shy, protective, and adorably eccentric.

Oh God, I should have never agreed to betray him.

Hopefully, it’s not too late to fix my mistake before I lose more people I love.

Claiming Marcus is the first book in an MM paranormal romance series that has vampires, betrayal, annoying brothers, music, heartbreak, hope, sexy times, and a raven named Ozzie.

Title:  Claiming Marcus

Series: Lords of Discord #1

Author: Jocelynn Drake

Publisher: Indie

Release Date: 10/31/2019

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 100,000

Genre: Romance, paranormal romance

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The Playlist for CLAIMING MARCUS

Like many authors, I prefer to write to music. Sometimes I will create a specific playlist that I’m listening to and sometimes I will to specific albums over and over again to keep me in a specific mindset.

When I was working on Shiver, book 1 of the Unbreakable Bonds series, most of my writing was done to the Counting Crows’ album “August and Everything After.” After I finished that book, I really haven’t listened to that album much.

I’ve written at least three books to video game scores created by Jesper Kyd. I particularly love the score for Assassin’s Creed II. I still use it a lot to this day. There were also a couple of books that were written to the score for Constantine. That’s some good, creepy music.

For Claiming Marcus, book 1 of the Lords of Discord, I bounced around a lot. This is my first time writing vampires in more than five years so it was interesting trying to find the right mood music and mindset to match the book.

For Marcus, I found myself drifting to Beethoven a lot. He’s got some great, moody pieces that can be melancholy or excited or angry. I could easily see Marcus coming back to Beethoven over and over again to pull some of the angst and venom from his soul.

After he became a vampire, Marcus had more to worry about than just his mother and brothers. He had to deal with being a new creature in a new society. He had to deal with other vampires, which seemed to naturally bring me to Marilyn Manson and Trent Reznor from the Nine Inch Nails.

When it came to the human Ethan, I found myself drifting in a totally different direction. Ethan has a great love of Tori Amos. An accomplished pianist, Tori offers some great songs that match Ethan’s moods. The hardest part was picking just the right ones that matched him. Naturally, his love of a pianist made Ethan a natural admirer of Marcus.

And then, of course, I needed a few more songs that spoke to the love they were trying to nurture in the midst of the chaos.

If you would like to listen to the playlist that I’ve pulled together for CLAIMING MARCUS, you can find it here on Spotify.

Ethan wanted to feel panic and fear when he stared at Marcus. There really was no doubt in his mind that Marcus and his brothers were vampires. A sane person would have taken his brother to a hospital. Ethan hadn’t seen the actual wounds, but just the amount of blood he cleaned up meant that Bel had been seriously injured. No one could heal from that without medical assistance.

And yet, just an hour later, Bel’s color was starting to improve. He was resting on the couch, his breathing falling in a steady rhythm.

Looking at the aristocratic creature seated on the piano bench, streaked with his brother’s blood, Ethan couldn’t see anything but a man exhausted and hurting in ways that he couldn’t fully understand. He trusted Marcus to not harm him. He’d already gone out of his way to protect him from Meryl and Cain.

Ethan wanted to take care of Marcus. It was clear that he was the family protector. He was the one who made the hard decisions and directed the others in order to get things done and keep them safe. But who was there to take care of Marcus?

Taking Marcus’s bloody hand in his, Ethan pulled him to his feet and led him out of the music room. He paused in the hallway. The third floor held four rooms with locked doors. One of them was Marcus’s private bedroom, but he didn’t know which one.

“Here,” Marcus said, pointing to a pair of double doors farther down the hall.

Ethan nodded and led the way, pulling the keys Marcus had given him out of his pocket. He unlocked the doors and pushed them open. There was only one small lamp on the nightstand burning, but it was enough to illuminate the large room with an enormous four-poster bed and a long bureau made of a dark wood. The walls were a dark blue with white trim. The carpet under their feet was so thick it was almost like walking on a cloud.

“Thank you, Ethan,” Marcus murmured. He squeezed Ethan’s hand before releasing it. “You can sleep in the green room if you’re too tired to return home. And you don’t have to come in to work tomorrow…or rather today. You need your rest.”

Ethan turned and smirked up at Marcus. “Work, huh? I thought I was fired.”

Marcus gave him a tired little smile. “I don’t think I technically fired you. Just threatened to do it.”

Taking a step closer, Ethan slowly reached up and touch the top button on his stained shirt. “Well, I think I’m technically here as a friend, because if your employee did this…” Ethan paused and slipped the first button through the hole. “We’d have to deal with a whole lot of HR shit, and we don’t want to do that.”

Marcus swallowed hard, staring at Ethan. He licked his lips as his breathing picked up, but he didn’t say anything to stop Ethan. Yeah, Marcus was attracted to him. Ethan thought he’d picked up a few little tells over the past couple of weeks, but Marcus was overall very careful. The guy was stuck so far in the closet, there was little hope of him ever seeing daylight.

But this wasn’t about Marcus exploring his sexuality. There was still the issue of him being a vampire and holding knowledge of his mother’s killer. This was about Ethan seeing that Marcus got some well-deserved rest.

Still moving slowly, Ethan lowered his hands and unbuttoned the next three buttons before Marcus finally moved, capturing both of his hands in his.

“Ethan?”

“It’s okay,” he said, giving him a reassuring smile. “I’m just helping you. I’m going to turn on the shower and get the water to warm up. Do you want me to help you finish getting undressed?”

Marcus’s mouth dropped open and sort of soundlessly bobbed for a second like he couldn’t get the words out.

Ethan chuckled. He was so damn attracted to this man, to this vulnerable side that he was sure his brothers didn’t get to see. Ethan pulled his hands free and resumed unbuttoning his shirt. He pulled the shirt free of Marcus’s pants to get the last couple of buttons. Hours ago, Marcus had rolled his sleeves up his forearms so that all Ethan had to do was run his palms up Marcus’s strong chest, reveling in the feel of hard muscle. A low groan rumbled in Marcus’s throat and that sound sent blood rushing to Ethan’s cock. Fuck, that was an amazing sound. He smoothed his hands across Marcus’s shoulders, pushing the shirt down his arms and to the floor.

“Ethan…I…”

“Shhh,” Ethan murmured. “Nothing is going to happen. You’re safe.” He leaned up on the tips of his toes and pressed a light kiss to Marcus’s throat. Strong hands immediately clamped down on his hips, holding him in place. Fingers dug into his ass and Ethan nearly moaned. He’d die to feel those hands all over his body. Just the thought had his cock stiffening.

“Not sure if the promise of nothing has me relieved or disappointed,” Marcus admitted in a shaky voice. He looked down and Ethan could feel the slight tremor creeping through Marcus’s muscles. “I’ve…I’ve never—”

“I know,” Ethan interrupted. “That’s why nothing is going to happen.” Well, one of the reasons, at least. “You need someone to take care of you tonight. Shower and then bed. Once you’re tucked in, I’m going to head home, but I’ll return later today.”

Sadness crept into Marcus’s blue eyes, but there was also relief there. He nodded and released Ethan.

“Finish getting undressed, my sexy friend,” Ethan said and sauntered toward the open door across from the bed. He was guessing it was a private bathroom.

 

He flicked a switch and sucked in a harsh breath as buttery light cascaded over warm marbled and gold fixtures. The bathroom was almost as big as his old apartment. There was a large garden tub that could easily fit three full-grown men, a double sink vanity with a long mirror, and a shower stall that had enough space and heads to cover the same three men who just climbed out of the tub.

There was muffled thump on the floor and Ethan guessed that Marcus had dropped a shoe. “Are you so touchy-feely with all your friends?”

Ethan laughed as he walked over to the shower. “Would you be jealous if I was?”

“Yes,” Marcus hissed, and that single word wrapped in a possessive tone warmed Ethan like nothing else could. He’d had more than a few sexual partners in his life, but no one he’d call a boyfriend and no one who ever felt possessive. He was just a warm body, a tight hole, a great mouth to fuck.

But with Marcus, he felt like more.

Opening the door, Ethan turned the handle, starting the shower. He stuck his hand in the spray, checking the temperature. Still cold. He started to turn to make sure that Marcus had a clean towel, but he jumped when he found Marcus standing directly behind him. The man had moved so silently and so fucking quickly. How had he not noticed him?

Because he’s a vampire.

Oh, yeah. Ethan’s brain kept conveniently forgetting that little fact.

It was even easier to forget when Marcus was standing just a couple of inches away, wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs. He was pale, but it didn’t detract from his beautiful body. Every inch of him was hard. Every. Fucking. Inch.

Wow….

So, I’m not a fan of paranormal. Not even a little bit, but, I haven’t read a story by Ms. Drake that I haven’t been so enamored with and this one was no different. I might have to take a dive into vampire romance, I fear I’ve been missin out!

So, in this one, we see Ethan as a child, when we witness his family being murdered by something he thought was only folklore and urban legends. Seeing his family torn to bits as well as his neighbors in the the apartment complex, hearing it as well as witnessing the aftermath, it’s no surprise that when we meet him again, he’s working with Legion to exterminate known vampires so he can get revenge from the killing of his family that left him all alone.

Getting a job with Marcus Valrik wasn’t easy, but he needed to find out if he was a vampire and if he or his family were the ones he needed to get even with. Turns out, he isn’t, and he’s not even sure he’s a vampire at all, though he’s pretty sure. Marcus and his brothers aren’t anything like you see in the movies and what this legion of vampire hunters expect him to be…they’re almost normal even.

I adored Marcus and even more, I loved his corky and eccentric brothers. I loved the bond they all had and their loyalty to each other and their mother. Being vampires didn’t do anything to change any of that, if anything, the 176 years they’d been vampires together had only made them closer… though they were very different from one another and it showed in the way they lived their lives.

I don’t want to give too much away, but I will say that I loved it from beginning to end and I cannot wait to see who’s next… Hopefully Rafe, though I hope all the brothers get their own story!!!

5 well deserved pieces of eye candy from me!

SO GOOD!

Books with vampires can get really cheesy (uh, sparkly?) or really dark (thank you Anne Rice) or just really dumb (too many to name). But this was really, really well done.

Ethan, seeking revenge for the murders of his family when he was a child, gets hired by Marcus as a PA under false pretenses. Marcus needs help coordinating a move from South Carolina to Connecticut, Ethan is to provide intel to a vampire hate group.

But Ethan slowly gets to know Marcus. Who seems like a nice guy- not a vampire.

And Marcus. The oldest of four brothers- all vampires- who try to take care of their mother (also a vampire) while she teeters on the edge of sanity.

Ethan and Marcus start falling for each other- while we fall for them. Being that they grew up oh, almost 200 years apart, Ethan is out and proud but Marcus is in the closet still and scared. Ugh, my heart. Marcus is so sheltered even though he is nearly 200 years old. He just broke my heart.

Surrounding Marcus are his brothers. Definitely a recurring theme in Ms Drake’s books are the strong band of brothers- by blood or by circumstance. And you end up loving them all for different reasons.

The plot was interesting as well. Trying to figure out who the bad guys were, who killed Ethan’s family and why were ranking vampire government members being killed. It was woven together nicely, while still giving us a good romance between Marcus and Ethan.

So yep, I really loved it. I can’t wait for the next book with the next brother (who I picture as Eric Northman from True Blood). Points off from 5 POEC just because once their sexual relationship began, Marcus seemed way too experienced for someone with literally no experience.

4.5 pieces of eye candy

It started with a battered notebook. Jocelynn Drake wrote her first story when she was 12 years old. It was a retelling of Robin Hood that now included a kick-ass female who could keep up with all the boys and be more than just a sad little love interest. From there, she explored space, talked to dragons, and fell in love again and again and again.

This former Kentucky girl has moved up, down, and across the U.S. with her patient husband. They’ve settled near the Rockies…for now. She spends the majority of her time lost in the strong embrace of a good book.

When she’s not hammering away at her keyboard or curled up with a book, she can usually be found cuddling with her cat Demona, walking her dog Ace, or flinging curses at the TV while playing a video game. Outside of books, furry babies, and video games, she is completely enamored of Bruce Wayne, Ezio Auditore, travel, tattoos, explosions, and fast cars.

She is the New York Times Bestselling author of the urban fantasy series: The Dark Days series and the Asylum Tales. She has just completed a gay romantic suspense series called The Exit Strategy about two assassins falling in love and trying to create a life together. Her newest project returns to her vampire roots with a new MM paranormal romance series. She is also the co-author of the Unbreakable Bonds, Ward Security, and Pineapple Grove series with Rinda Elliott.

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