Book Title: I Am Not Your Chosen One
Author: Evelyn Benvie
Publisher: Mischief Corner Books
Cover Artist: Natasha Snow
Release Date: June 14, 2022
Genres: High Fantasy Humor, M/M Romance, Demisexual romance
Tropes: Refusal of the Call, Slow Burn Romance
Themes: Found family, self-acceptance, finding home
Heat Rating: 1 flame
Length: 102 000 words
It is the first book in a new series and does not end on a cliffhanger.
Magic in Allune is dying.
The stars and the goddess call out for a Chosen Hero to save it.
Unfortunately, all they get is Kell.
IKell Hồ Sinh Porter is twenty-six years old and desperate to leave his unhappy life and his dead-end town. One night his wish is granted by a mysterious voice—though not in any way he would've imagined—and he finds himself in the semi-magical land of Allune where everyone thinks he’s the “Chosen One.” Kell politely disagrees, and absconds from his duties. On the search for an adventure that doesn’t come with world-saving responsibility attached, he’s joined by companions. Every adventurer needs them, but his turn out to be Ansel, a sheltered fallen angel, and Fre, a half-orlk who wants to be a hero.
Kell woke up slowly. Awareness filtered back to him in pieces. Rough wood under his palms. The warmth of the sun on his skin. The low, tumbling murmur of gathered people. Something weighing hot and heavy against his ribcage. The scent of fresh baking and old sweat mixing on his tongue. He wrinkled his nose and blinked his eyes open.
He was lying on a platform near the middle of town, judging by the smell and the noise. That wasn't necessarily troubling in and of itself. But the sky …
It was blue, yes, and the sun was midmorning high and bright enough to make his eyes water. But there were stars speckling the sky all above him, little pink pinpricks of light dusting what should have been a solid-blue backdrop. Kell stared at them hard for a long moment, then closed his eyes again.
Weren't dreams supposed to end when you woke up? What was this, a dream within a dream?
Whatever it was, he didn't feel up to dealing with it right now.
Apparently the world wasn't going to give him a choice. Someone nudged at his leg, gently at first but with increasing insistence.
Someone, Kell thought, with perhaps an edge of bubbling hysteria, or something. He giggled a little, biting his lip to keep the sound in. God, what is with me?
Maybe he had heat stroke. It was unusually warm out now for only being March.
What had happened last night? Fuck it. He didn't remember getting drunk enough to pass out in the middle of the street. He didn't remember planning on drinking at all.
A throat cleared above him, polite but impatient. Oh, well. Time for him to get up anyway before he got cited for public drunkenness or whatever. Kell made an effort to lift his head, but it was hard, and he was tired, and staying here a little longer couldn't hurt, right?
Was public drunkenness even a real crime?
"Oh for the love of Skuache …" someone muttered, and then Kell found himself being gripped firmly on either side and hauled upwards. He let out a yelp of surprise, flailing around as strong arms did their best to hold him steady. The world spun as he opened his eyes, and it took a moment to get his feet under him. He staggered a bit, keeping his eyes trained on his feet for balance until he felt he wouldn't fall over at any moment. Not that his rescuers had any intention of letting him go any time soon, with the way they held onto his arms just this side of too tight.
Shouldn't have wished for the cops last night if this is where it gets me.
"Really, goddess," the person continued to mutter. They sounded close. And important in a kind of college professor way. The kind used to lecturing and looking down on failing students. Kell dubbed him Professor Throat Clearer and entertained a brief image of a stuffy man in tweed giving lectures on how to properly interrupt conversation with discreet noises. It sounded like a fun class. Kell would have taken it.
"I have faith in your efforts, I truly do," Professor Throat Clearer continued, speaking low and to himself. "But I swear, these Chosen get worse every time."
About the Author
Evelyn Benvie is the wooly jumper in a family of black sheep. Both a cynic and a romantic at heart, she writes diverse poetry and queer-positive spec-fiction with strong characters, quirky romances, and (almost always) happy endings.
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Book Title: French Kiss (Flying into Love #1)
Author and Publisher: C F White
Cover Artist: Kelly Martin KAM Design
Release Date: May 30, 2022
Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance
Tropes: Opposites Attract, Instalust, Age Gap, Forced Proximity
Themes: Coming out, Found Family
Heat Rating: 4 flames
Length: 58 000 words/232 pages
It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.
This is the first in a new series of standalone novels. The second book is due out in June.
Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited
Can a French kiss persuade an uptight Englishman to leave his city behind and start a new life in rural France?
Clean-cut London businessman Dale Calverley doesn’t do relationships.
Rugged French handyman Valentin Aubrey doesn’t do city men.
When Dale hires Valentin to help him fix up his inherited farmhouse estate in rural France and sell to the highest bidder, sparks fly.
Complete opposites, can they really expect their insta-lust to last beyond the storm that forces them together?
But how can Dale walk away from a man so alluringly rogue as Valentin Aubrey?
And how can Valentin expect a man so money-orientated to throw away his career and stay in the wilderness with him?
French Kiss (Flying into Love #1) is a Contemporary, Age-Gap, Hurt/Comfort, Forced Proximity MM Romance featuring an uptight English businessman with a preference for nameless hook ups and a rugged half-French handyman with a chequered past.
Stomach knotting, roiling, fluttering, Dale laid eyes on Valentin, axe held high over his head then swinging down to slice through chopped wood balancing on a tree stump. If that wasn’t the most spectacular thing Dale had ever seen in his entire life, he had no idea what was. He held his breath, lurking on the periphery and willing himself not to be seen. He wanted to watch. He wanted to gaze on that sight without fear. He wanted nothing more than to stare as though it was a show just for him.
Valentin threw a chopped log onto a pile, wiping the sweat from brow with his plaid shirt sleeve and smearing mud across his face. He then set another on the stump and swung the axe. Voracious hunger surged through Dale as Valentin grunted, thrashing the blade down into the log. It was so barbaric. So feral. So wild Dale had to inhale a tantric breath. Flustered and ravenous, Dale lost all rational thought. He hadn’t seen anything like it before and his cock throbbed, unveiling his voyeuristic side and exposing him to his type.
Valentin stopped, then undid his shirt, wriggling it down his arms to drop to the ground, luscious, tanned torso now on display with those Angel-wing tattoos for Dale to feast upon. If Dale thought his heart had been pounding before, it then tripled pace. Valentin was so ripped. So defined. So masculine, and every outline of strength and sinew on his back, his chest, his stomach, his decorated arms as he lifted the axe and yielded it to cut through solid timber, had Dale’s pulse racing.
Dale’s throat dried as animalistic desire raged through him, inflating both want and need. His dick stiff and rigid, demanding to see for itself, Dale could do nothing but stand and stare.
Valentin glanced up, maybe sensing he was being watched. Was that a hunting instinct? He blinked, a cloudy rush of breath billowing from his lips as he exhaled into the mist. God, he was so savage. So rugged and raw. Dale should move. He should shake himself out and move. He should make up some utter bullshit of why he was standing there that wasn’t salivating over him chopping logs. He should pretend he’d heard something. He should, at the very least, stop staring.
But what he wanted to do was take Valentin by the neck and kiss him.
Valentin threw the axe to the ground, grabbing his shirt and sliding it on as he jogged toward him. “Dale,” he said, breath light and airy, so unlike the atmosphere between them, laden with desperation.
Dale couldn’t speak. All words caught in his throat at the sight, at the scent, at the scorching skin exposed on Valentin’s chest that Dale wanted--needed—to touch. He’d never felt anything like this. Ever. It was so all-consuming. Mesmerising. Bewitching. It was so beyond any rationality and reason that Dale couldn’t comprehend what was happening to him.
“Dale?” Valentin searched him. “Are you okay?”
Dale forced himself to nod, breathing out a deep and rumbling, “Mmm, hmm.”
“Sorry if I woke you. There’s a storm heading for us. Needed wood for the fire. It might pass us, but it’s worth stocking up the fuel while we can.”
Dale inhaled. All he could smell was Valentin. His sweat. His musk. His beard. Dale never wanted to breath in anything else again.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Valentin frowned, then without a hint of warning he placed a palm to Dale’s forehead, his touch sending shockwaves sparking through him.
Dale gripped Valentin’s wrist, digging fingertips into him, holding his hand where it was. “Valentin.”
Valentin held his gaze. “Dale,” he breathed out. “I don’t want to make the same mistake twice.”
Dale dropped his arm to his side but refused to let go of Valentin’s wrist.
“Don’t make me.” Valentin’s voice was soft, shaky, filled with fear and worry yet had an undeniable growl of want. As though he was struggling to control himself. He trembled, glancing to their locked hands as he uttered with caution, “Je te veux.”
About the Author
Brought up in a relatively small town in Hertfordshire, C F White managed to do what most other residents try to do and fail—leave.
Studying at a West London university, she realised there was a whole city out there waiting to be discovered, so, much like Dick Whittington before her, she never made it back home and still endlessly search for the streets paved with gold, slowly coming to the realisation they’re mostly paved with chewing gum. And the odd bit of graffiti. And those little circles of yellow spray paint where the council point out the pot holes to someone who is supposedly meant to fix them instead of staring at them vacantly whilst holding a polystyrene cup of watered-down coffee.
Eventually she moved West to East along that vast District Line and settled for pie and mash, cockles and winkles and a bit of Knees Up Mother Brown to live in the East End of London; securing a job and creating a life, a home and a family.
After her second son was born with a rare disability, C F White’s life changed and it brought pen back to and paper after having written stories as a child but never had the confidence to show them to the world. Now, having embarked on this writing journey, C F White can’t stop.
So strap in, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.
Book Title: The Fire Island Ice Queen
Author: B.J. Irons
Publisher: Spectrum Books
Release Date: May 7, 2022
Genres: Contemporary M/M Romance – Beach Read
Tropes: Friends to lovers
Themes: Coming of Age, Embracing Sexual Identity
Heat Rating: 2 flames
Length: 50 000 words
It is a standalone book and does not end on a cliffhanger.
Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited
A Fire Island beach read that will melt the hearts of all ice queens
College law student, Connor, is a bit pretentious, high-strung and what some might describe as being cold as ice. After catching his boyfriend cheating on him and then being dumped, Connor decides to take his best friend Byron up on his offer for a summer gaycation experience to Fire Island.
“Ewwwww!” I exclaimed, noticing the skinny, shirtless guy dancing on the box out of the corner of my eye. He had two older men standing below holding dollar bills up at him.
The whole scene gave me an unsettling feeling in my stomach. The boy reeked of desperation for attention and the old men reeked of desperation for the pale and frail twink. I was expecting to see his skin glisten like diamonds when the strobe lights moved on top of him. He was decidedly vampiric-looking, but lacked the hot features of Edward Cullen.
I rolled my eyes and diverted my focus back to my boyfriend, Derrick, who was beside me at the bar, ordering us another round of drinks.
“What are you ewww-ing about now?” he asked.
“Just that dirty ginger up on the box.” I pointed in the direction of him, now bending over on the box, getting the money tucked into his waistband by the two tragic geriatrics.
“Ugh! Why do you care about him anyway, Connor?” Derrick questioned me with a vexed tone in his voice.
He was right. I did care too much about how other
people behaved, dressed, acted, etc. I was a very judgmental person and I could recognize that in myself. However, I wouldn’t dare to let other people think that of me. As much as I cared about how others presented themselves, I cared even more about how I looked and how I was judged. I went to the gym every day, made sure I was the top student in all of my college classes, and wanted everyone to know that I was beyond mature for my age. I wouldn’t have them think any less of me.
But, I’d be out of my mind to admit this to my boyfriend.
“I don’t really care about him at all. It’s just an observation,” I confessed.
Derrick handed me my drink that the bartender gave him. “Yeah. But just let him be. He’s a young guy just trying to have fun. Clearly, he doesn’t care what other people think of him. If anything, you’re giving him the attention he wants by even making thatcomment.”
My boyfriend had a point here. I was giving him more attention than I should. And now, by having this conversation with Derrick, I was donating way too much of my time and energy in talking about him.
Derrick then reached for my empty hand. “Do you want to dance?”
I shook my head, recoiling from him. “Nah. I’m good. You can go ahead. I’ll chill out here at the bar for a bit. I wouldn’t be caught dead dancing out there.”
He simply shrugged and chugged his drink before turning around to head out to the dance floor.
I decided to take the now empty seat at the bar he left open. I glanced down at my phone and began scrolling through a few social media posts. This place was getting boring. Yawning, I checked the time to realize it wasn’t even midnight yet. What a snooze-fest tonight had turned out to be. Our usual friends had other plans and couldn’t make it out tonight, which left Derrick and me stuck alone with ourselves. I turned back around to try and pinpoint his location on the crowded dance floor, but had no luck.
I let out a heavy sigh, tapping my right leg up and down on the foot of the barstool. I had to really take a piss, and couldn’t hold it in much longer. But, at the same time, I didn’t want Derrick to come back and think I had disappeared.
However, I would only be gone for a minute or so. Oh well. I stood up and walked across the dance floor towards the bathroom.
“Nice ass!” I heard a man behind me say as he grabbed my butt as I scooted by him.
Dirty fucker! He was lucky I had to use the bathroom so badly. Otherwise, I would have turned back around and made a whole scene in front of everyone.
I pushed my way through the random guys chilling in the hallway leading to the bathroom, who were either gossiping or making out with one another. I opened the bathroom door and saw that the four urinals were occupied. One of the two stalls had the door halfway open, so I slightly kicked it to make sure no one was in there before I claimed it.
Locking the door behind me, I dropped my pants and released myself, letting out a light sigh of relief. I glanced down at the floor and could see a rather large shadow coming from the next stall over. There was definitely more than one person there. I could then hear a few wet and sloppy kiss-like noises coming from next door as well.
Like seriously!? Get a fucking room!
I flushed the toilet and walked out of the stall, shaking my head in disdain. Moving towards the sink, I checked myself out in the mirror as I proceeded to wash my hands. I rubbed my hand through my hair, making sure it was swept back nicely. My mouth gaped open at what I saw next. The door to the stall that was next to mine opened and the two guys emerged from it. The first was some random, cute guy who had a similarly toned body to me, except he had bright bleach blonde hair. Then, behind him, was Derrick.
Derrick was with that stranger in the stall!? What the fuck!?
I immediately turned around to face them both.
“Derrick! What the fuck!? Are you shitting me right now!?” I yelled.
About the Author
BJ Irons works in the field of education as an educational leader and college professor. Many of his personal experiences as a gay man, have contributed to his works. Being a part of the LGBTQIA+ community himself, BJ hopes to continue to bring more fun fictional works to his LGBTQIA+ readers. The world could always use a little more color and fun.
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Book Title: Blue Moon Rising (Moonlight Prophecies Book 2)
Author: Amanda Meuwissen
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Cover Artist: Kris Norris
Release Date: May 24, 2022
Genre: Shifter Paranormal M/M Romance
Tropes: Alpha with non-Alpha shifter (not A/B/O), reluctant hero, rebound relationship
Themes: Destiny, starting over, prejudice
Heat Rating: 4 flames
Length: 76 000 words
This is book 2 in the Moonlight Prophecies series.
Sometimes the right answer is the part of yourself you are afraid to face.
Alpha Jay Russell’s broken engagement may just be the best thing that ever happened to him. His ex-fiancé’s twin, Bari, is much more his type and straightforward about his flirting and desire to unite their packs.
“I’m not texting or calling with what went on in Centrus City. Those events need to be explained in person. What’s Ursula asking?” Jay added as an aside, curious if she’d heard anything from the rumor mill.
“She knows you well.” Maximus scrolled through some of the messages. “Wondering if you’re bringing home any strays with your new husband.”
Jay cringed. He wasn’t even technically bringing home a fiancé anymore. It was better things hadn’t worked out between him and Bashir, but that didn’t mean what happened didn’t hurt. Instead of breaking things off between them from the start, Bashir had slept with Ethan—twice—before Jay backed out of the marriage himself. Jay just wanted to be someone’s first choice, but being a hopeless romantic didn’t mean he had luck in love.
“You’re not still poring over pack reports, I hope.” Bari appeared as if summoned, depositing himself gracefully in the seat next to Jay with a dramatic crossing of one leg over the other and leaning toward him. Bashir smelled like sandalwood, but Bari smelled like jasmine, another sign Bari was more Jay’s type, because that smell made his insides quiver, and scent was a common factor in choosing a mate. “Even an Alpha needs to take breaks, darling. And we’re nearly home! Well, home for you. Speaking of….” He batted impossibly long lashes, and his exaggerated nature reminded Jay like a slap to the face how different he was from Bashir in every way. “Foolish little ol’ me forgot to look into any hotels. I hope everything won’t be booked.”
Maximus scoffed at the obvious lead-in, but Jay had already intended this offer.
“No hotel necessary,” Jay said, enjoying Bari’s scent but trying to stay focused and hopefully not look as red in the face as he felt. “Only Max and our Magister are mated, so we have plenty of spare rooms at our den. We’ll head there once the train arrives so you can get settled and I can address my circle about what’s gone on the past few weeks.”
“You haven’t told them anything?”
“Not yet, but I’m sure they’ve heard whispers. While I intend to tell my circle everything, I’ll make sure it’s understood that talk of Seers, Focuses, and Nulls needs to be kept as only gossip for everyone else.”
“My pack thanks you for that,” Bari said with a gentle touch to Jay’s arm. He was very casually physical, another contrast to his brother. “I know you were gone much longer than planned. I hope everything ran smoothly without you.”
“Smooth enough,” Maximus growled, reminding Jay that they weren’t alone. “Are you an ambassador or a spy?”
“Max,” Jay chided him.
“It’s okay,” Bari dismissed. “I was prying. I won’t pretend like Bash didn’t ask me to keep him informed of the state of your city. But allies should be honest with each other.” He looked squarely at Maximus and grinned. “When I spy, I’ll warn you first.”
Maximus turned away with another scoff.
“But before any espionage, I’m looking forward to a better meal than the train food we had for lunch.” Bari returned his attention to Jay. “Would you like to get dinner later?”
In an instant, Jay was a flustered teenager again because he couldn’t think of a response. He wasn’t used to anyone being so forward with him, especially someone who’d almost sort of already proposed.
“He’s been gone for weeks,” Maximus broke in, “and you think he’s going to immediately start playing tour guide just because—”
“Max,” Jay chided again, which at least helped him find his voice. He knew his Second was only looking out for him, but being a good Alpha meant taking time for himself too, something he often forgot. “Pack business comes first, always,” he reassured Maximus, and then looked to Bari. “But I do have to eat. I’d love to take you to dinner tonight.”
There was that unique crinkle at the corners of Bari’s eyes that Jay had never seen on Bashir. “Marvelous. It’s a date. That is a very fetching shirt on you, by the way.” He lightly tugged Jay’s collar and stroked once more down his arm before getting up and heading back toward Theresa and William with a sly smirk.
It wasn’t that special of a shirt, Jay thought, just black with a few horizontal stripes in gray, but since he’d taken his jacket off during the ride, he supposed the short sleeves flattered his biceps well, which was where Bari had touched.
Jay realized he’d followed Bari’s retreat almost to the point of turning in his chair and quickly sat forward again.
Maximus stared at him deadpan.
“What? It’s just dinner.”
As soon as Maximus huffed and looked back out at the city, Jay couldn’t contain his smile. Just dinner--for now.
About the Author
Amanda Meuwissen is a bisexual author, with a primary focus on M/M romance. As author of the paranormal romance trilogy The Incubus Saga and several other titles with various publishers, Amanda regularly attends local comic conventions for fun and to meet with fans, where she will often be seen in costume as one of her favorite fictional characters. She lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota, with her husband, John, and their cat, Helga.
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ebook copies of books 1 and 2 in the Moonlight Prophecies series
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