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Now in Kobo Plus! Rekindled love and a desperate fight for survival in the Black Hills. Mason Arquette is brusque and rubs people the wrong way more times than not. Riece Burrell doesn’t connect well with others, needs his routine and sees Mason for who he really is. When they met the sparks flew and love blossomed. Mason thought he’d met the guy he’d spend the rest of his life with until Riece abruptly ended their relationship. Several years later Mason and Riece are thrown together once again. Riece takes a job as a US Forestry Service photographer and Mason, a park ranger, is assigned to guide him around the Black Hills of South Dakota and Wyoming. They’ve both regretted that their relationship ended and now they’re given a second chance at the love they shared. Nothing is ever easy. Just when Mason and Riece begin to work things out and come together again they find themselves the prey of people who hunt humans. In a desperate race for their lives they have to depend on one another like never before and that means taking a big step out of their personal comfort zones. Can they work together, survive and rekindle their love? BLOG TOUR Book Title: Peacemaker (Sharps & Springfield #1) Author: Morgan Brice Publisher: Darkwind Press Cover Artist: Deranged Doctor Design Release Date: March 25, 2023 Genre: Steampunk MM romance Tropes: Secret agents, co-workers to lovers, forced proximity, hurt/comfort, mistaken identity Themes: Learning to love again, taking a chance on love Heat Rating: 4 flames Length: 249 pages It is a standalone book and the first in a new series. It does not end on a cliffhanger. Buy Links Amazon US | Amazon UK | Nook | Kobo Secret agents, forbidden love, danger, and magic! Blurb Supernatural Secret Service agents Owen Sharps and Calvin Springfield meet on the train to their new assignment in St. Louis, and sparks fly between them. But it's 1897, and they need to be very carefulāfalling in love can be dangerous for men like them. Excerpt September 1897 Chapter 1 Owen Owen Sharps chuckled as he read his book on the train to St. Louis. He had been waiting to get a copy of Dracula, the sensational new book from England, and had found one in a New Pittsburgh bookstore before heading to the station. Itās got flair, and I like how splashy Van Helsing is, but itās obvious Stoker never fought a real vampire. Owen had heard about the book and its growing reputation for being frightening and violent. So far nothing heās written compares to being covered in blood in an ice-cold cemetery at midnight, hammering a stake through a vampireās heart, and trying not to get bitten. Then again, maybe I have a skewed perspective. āPardon me, is this seat taken?ā A drop-dead gorgeous man waited for an answer. He had raven black hair, bright blue eyes, and plush lips that filled Owen with impure thoughts. The stranger carried a suitcase and an overcoat, with a newspaper folded under his arm. Owen took one look and would have booted his granny to the cargo car to free up the seat for the man. āItās all yours.ā Owen gave a dismissive wave, tearing his gaze away so heād quit staring. It wouldnāt do to drool. āI think this might be the last open seat on the train.ā The man stowed his suitcase and coat, settling in across from Owen with his newspaper. Owen couldnāt help giving him the once-over. He figured the man to be slightly shorter than his own six-foot-two inches, and from the cut of his suit jacket, he had a trim, muscular build. Owen made a mental note to be sure to get a glimpse of what was likely a prime ass when they left the train. āWhere are you headed?ā Owen thought that a little conversation couldnāt hurt. He wanted to remember the manās voice to go with his image on nights when he sought relief alone with his hand. This fellow would never know heād been promoted to the lead in Owenās secret fantasies. Owen particularly liked the contrast between the manās dark hair and athletic body to his own rangy build, blond hair, fair skin, and green eyes. āSt. Louis.ā The man returned Owenās scrutiny with an assessing gaze. Owen sat up a bit straighter, oddly wanting to make a good impression on this person he was unlikely to see again. He felt the weight of the manās inspection, which made him wonder. Is he a cop? Private investigator? Or maybe...like me? They were both dressed equally well in suits that were department store quality but not bespoke. The strangerās hair was fairly short but more fashionable than military, and he was clean-shaven. Owen wondered what a hint of dark stubble might do to heighten those high cheekbones and accentuate the impossibly blue eyes, and he felt himself chub in his pants. None of that, he admonished silently. It wouldnāt do to raise suspicion. He probably just wants to make sure Iām not the sort to steal his suitcase when heās not looking. āIām headed there myself,ā Owen said. āBusiness or pleasure?ā The man looked amused at the question but not annoyed, which boded well. āBusiness. You?ā Owen nodded, surprised that he wanted to continue the conversa- tion instead of returning to his book. āThe same. Iāve heard the food there is good, but I doubt Iāll have time to do any exploring.ā He found himself at ease with the stranger. āWill you be staying in the city, or going on from there?ā āIāll meet with my boss, but I spend most of my time traveling,ā the fellow replied. āI donāt get to stay long in any one place.ā So we have that in common too. Makes it unlikely that we might meet up again the next time I come back to St. Louis. āMe, too. Iām a bit of a rolling stone.ā About the Author Morgan Brice is the romance pen name of bestselling author Gail Z. Martin. Morgan writes urban fantasy male/male paranormal romance, with plenty of action, adventure and supernatural thrills to go with the happily ever after. Gail writes epic fantasy and urban fantasy, and together with co-author hubby Larry N. Martin, steampunk and comedic horror, all of which have less romance, more explosions. Characters from her Gail books make frequent appearances in secondary roles in her Morgan books, and vice versa. On the rare occasions Morgan isnāt writing, sheās either reading, cooking, or spoiling two very pampered dogs. Series include Witchbane, Badlands, Treasure Trail, Kings of the Mountain and Fox Hollow. Watch for more in these series, plus new series coming soon! Author Links Website | Audible Profile | Amazon profile Facebook Group | Facebook Page Pinterest (for Morgan and Gail) | Twitter Sign up for my newsletter and never miss a new release Read a copy of my Badlands short story Restless Nights here for free Giveaway Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win a $10 Amazon gift card Tyler sat at the table, and Linden moved the other chair so they were close enough together that their knees brushed. He turned the laptop so Tyler could see the screen. A picture of a bathroom, the counter littered with beer bottles, a pint whiskey bottle, and medicine packets. “Is this from Julius’s apartment?” “Yes. He had enough alcohol in his system to be drunk, which is pretty easily guessed by the bottles.” Linden used one finger to point out the empty bottles. “He also had a high level of diphenhydramine.” “Antihistamine. Benadryl?” Tyler asked. Linden nodded. “Yes.” “You shouldn’t mix the two.” “No, you sure shouldn’t,” Linden agreed. “He was face down in his bathtub, which was about half-filled with water, with clothes on.” “Reasonable if you’re going to kill yourself that way. Booze and diphenhydramine will make you groggy, possibly cause you to pass out, and the clothes so you’re not found naked.” “You’d also leave your clothes on so you don’t get cold enough to wake up before you’re dead.” Linden sat back, took a sip of his coffee and held up one finger. “Here’s the thing, those diphenhydramine packets had no fingerprints on them. None.” Tyler frowned. “Those things are a bitch to get into. I slobber all over them using my teeth and trying to pinch the pill out of those little foil packets, cut my finger, and usually end up getting scissors!” “Exactly. Who opens a foil medicine packet without leaving a lot of evidence—fingerprints, saliva, blood, and therefore DNA? They make a mess, and no one is neat about it without a reason.” “That’s why you think it wasn’t suicide, or at least that he had help?” “Body number two, in a burned-out building. Fire destroys evidence and does so very effectively. The kicker is, there were empty beer bottles all over. The investigators were able to pull some prints and found DeCompos’s, but no one else’s. A search of his apartment turned up—” “Let me guess. Empty diphenhydramine foil packets without a fingerprint or anything else on them?” Linden stood up, picked up his mug and Tyler’s, and moved to the counter. “And that earns you a refill.” “This is really what you guys do? I thought it was all excitement and chasing bad guys through alleys.” “Disappointed?” Linden set the mugs down and slipped into the chair again. “No. Aside from the fact two men died, this is actually cool and—I feel bad saying it—satisfying.” Bait is available in eBook and paperback.
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