AG Meiers has a new MM contemporary romance out: "Promise Me." And there's a giveaway!

A fortune shouldn’t get you killed. a Promise shouldn’t break your heart.

Attorney Rafe Stanton knows making promises is a dangerous thing. Over and over he has failed to keep people under his protection safe. For years he watched his younger cousin Noah lose his battle with drugs and alcohol, which eventually led to a deadly car accident. When he finds out about Noah’s secret marriage to Logan Tate, Rafe has one last chance for redemption.

Inheriting a fortune should be a blessing, but for Logan life never works out that way. He’s learned the hard way that dreams don’t come true—and if they do, well, there is usually a hefty price tag attached. All he really wants is a quiet life, but that isn’t in the cards when his apartment gets broken into and a pretentious lawyer from Boston arrives thinking he can call the shots.

The two men don’t see eye-to-eye about the inheritance, but with Noah’s powerful family coming after Logan, they find themselves reluctantly on the same side. A gunman, greedy in-laws, and meddling friends are not enough trouble; soon they also need to deal with the explosive chemistry between them.

But Rafe made a promise to the past and Logan doesn’t trust easily, so a future together seems out of reach.

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Giveaway

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Excerpt

“From the little we know about Logan Tate—it doesn’t sound like he has the means to hold out against Noah’s family.”

“They’ll come after him hard. This could get ugly. That’s why I’m saying take a look at him and decide how you want to play this.”

Rafe knew his friend was right. “A stripper. Oh, damn, Noah. You couldn’t find anything else to piss off your parents.”

“It’s textbook.” Kane chuckled. “Whatever you decide; I’ve got your back.”

“Thanks, Kane. I’ll keep you in the loop.”

“Sounds good. Drive safe.”

North of Burlington traffic finally eased up. After all the rain, it was finally a sunny day—only a few clouds chased across blue skies. Rafe pulled out his sunglasses and tried to relax. It was quite telling that he wasn’t surprised to learn that Noah’s husband was shady and a modern-day fortune hunter. Ever since Rafe had seen the marriage certificate, he’d been speculating and had been expecting the worst. Based on the initial information the PI had dug up, he had been spot on.

A series of very likely scenarios went through his head. Noah had no people skills—everybody was his friend, and anyone who supplied drugs or alcohol immediately made it on the top of the list. It was easy to take advantage of his cousin, and he’d probably been high as a kite when he signed the certificate. Rafe tried to think back fourteen months but came up with a blank. Noah hadn’t been around much and Rafe hadn’t gone looking for him. The few times they had met, Noah had been doing better—wrong, very wrong. A wave of guilt washed over him with all the sadness of Noah’s death. He’d talked to his therapist about the five stages of grief, but somehow Rafe just felt an overwhelming clusterfuck of emotions. Regret—harrowing regret—waving through it as the only constant.

“Goddamn, Noah, I hope he’s not too awful, so I can at least keep my last promise to you,” Rafe said into the silence of his car. “I know I let you down with everything else.”

Resolutely, Rafe tried to push back all pictures of a skimpily dressed stripper with sly eyes pushing a pen into Noah’s hand while rubbing his groin and whispering obscenities into his ear. He was almost glad when his phone rang again hoping for a distraction, but then he flinched when he saw the name. Fuck. It was tempting not to pick up, but that would be a shit move. Quickly, he accepted the call.

“Hi Walter.”

“Hey stranger. I know you said you’d be busy, but I thought I check in. Do you have a few minutes?”

“Yes. I’m in the car driving to a client. Sorry, I didn’t call you back this weekend.”

“Don’t worry about it. You told me about your cousin. So very sad. Of course, you need some time with your family. If there is anything I can do, please let me know.”

Walter Schuller was exactly the type of guy Rafe should be considering for something more serious. A little older. Settled into a successful life as a well-known psychiatrist with a few books under his belt. Smart. Cultured. Liberal. He and Rafe had a ton of things in common and they were compatible in bed. They had met at a charity event in Boston last summer, and since then they’d hooked up occasionally. Rafe knew Walter was interested in being more than casual, but so far Rafe had pushed back. “I’m doing okay. I’m Noah’s probate executor. It’s the last I can do for him now.”

“Sure, I understand, but just make sure that you don’t use your work as shield against your emotions. We humans are social creatures. We need other people around us, and I don’t want you to fall back on your old coping mechanism.”

You mean fucking around? The words were on Rafe’s lips. Lately, he’d been regretting that he’d shared his challenge to maintain a meaningful relationship with Walter—really to scare him off. It had completely backfired. It seemed like Walter was now on a mission to save Rafe from himself. He tried to ignore Walter’s slightly patronizing tone, because it was high time he made an effort to find something slightly more serious than an endless string of anonymous sexual encounters he used for stress relief. And Walter had been the first guy who had stuck around longer than one or two dinners. He had the patience of a saint.

“I appreciate your concern,” Rafe said.

He’d never told Walter about his complicated relationship with Noah, so there was no way he could understand how important this trip was; still somehow, the man managed a flawless response. “I completely understand. Taking care of somebody’s legacy is important. You’re doing the right thing, but if you need a break, I have tickets to a Celtics game in two weeks. The weekend before Thanksgiving. If you feel like it, I’d love it if you came with me. You could stay the night. Let me take care of you for a change.”

Rafe pushed his sunglasses up on his head to rub his eyes. Walter was fucking perfect, and Rafe was a total ass for not making more of an effort.

“I’d love that. Text me the details and I’ll be there.”

“Awesome. I won’t keep you, but I can’t wait to see you that weekend.”

Rafe let out a sigh. “Fuck my life,” he mumbled to himself. Why was this so freaking difficult for him? Letting another guy in. Walter had been nothing but kind and dependable and still, Rafe kept him at arm’s length. Despite his best efforts to focus on Walter and all the solid reasons why he should be making it more official, after a few miles his mind slipped right back to Noah and his secret marriage.

Author Bio

Eighteen years ago, AG Meiers came to the United States for adventure, but stayed for love. Currently, she lives in New England with her husband and two awesome kids--balancing work, friends and family, and writing.

When she has some free time, her favorite thing to do is travel and visit new places. Her past trips have already brought her to a variety of countries on four continents. She never passes up an opportunity to experience different cultures, diverse people, and amazing locations.

Even though she has been dreaming up stories all her life, she has only recently started to write them down and share them with the world. As a writer, she loves to to put her characters through a lot of challenges, conflict, and heartbreak before she allows them to find their happy-ever-after.

Author Website: https://www.agmeiers.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/ag.meiers.1

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18515319.A_G_Meiers

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/AG-Meiers/e/B07MCHQH5B

Beryll and Osiris Brackhaus have a new sci fi/space opera book out, Virasana Empire: Dr. Laurent Book 1: "The PV-3 Mutagen."

As a history scholar and courier for the secretive Circle of Thales, Rene Laurent is a man of many talents - none of them lending themselves much to a life of adventure.

But when a chance meeting with a young, idealistic Belligra priest drags him into a wild quest to keep a dangerous mutagen off the streets of Floor, his curiosity gets the better of him. Between monsters both human and man-made, he realises that maybe fieldwork is more of his game than he had ever thought possible...

Written by Rainbow-Award-winning authors Beryll and Osiris Brackhaus, 'The PV-3 Mutagen' is a colourful non-romance sci-fi adventure set in the wildly diverse 'Virasana Empire', and the first novel of the 'Doctor Laurent' series.

Warnings: Not a romance. Harsh setting, but hopeful.

Excerpt

Chapter 1 – Info Brokers

There were five of them. At least, five that Rene was aware of.

He had spotted the three following him when he took the escalator to the bottom floor of the mall. He had originally planned to take the tube train to Cherry Hills, but instead he turned into the access tunnel that led up to the street, trying to shake them off. Judging by the two who were now cutting him off just ahead, that had been a bad idea. The tunnel they were in was sufficiently removed from the cheap glitz of the mall to be only dimly lit, and the only other person here was a woman pushing a shopping cart, purposefully hurrying away from the developing confrontation.

A quick look around showed Rene there weren't any convenient emergency doors he could slip through, either. He was in trouble.

At least, they didn't seem to be professional mercenaries, just some gangers, though they moved with too much purpose to be out simply to mug him. And no ganger deserving of their colours would mug a scruffy street rat like him, anyway. To them, he had to look like he didn't have anything worth the trouble, as much a carefully crafted facade as laziness – he liked his comfortable rags a lot, thank you very much. So what did these particular thugs want from him?

And more importantly, how to get rid of them?

He was well aware that he didn't stand a chance against them in a fight. Combat skills were at the bottom of the list of things he was interested in. Also, the mall was too cheap to have any sort of camera surveillance. It didn't even have security guards though Rene doubted any would have come running if they had existed. He wasn't a valued customer, and as long as the gangers didn't make too much of a mess, no one would care.

The best course of action seemed to be to play the helpless victim and let them rough him up a little. It wasn't like they would manage to inflict any lasting damage, anyway.

He had come to that conclusion when one of the thugs, whom Rene mentally labelled their 'leader', shoved him against the wall.

Rene turned to face them, clutching the stack of folders he was carrying to his chest protectively, trying to present a credible picture of being scared. The other thugs had formed a semicircle around him and their boss. Judging by the nasty grins of his ambushers, it wasn't very hard to fool them.

“Gimme that,” the leader snarled and grabbed the folders.

They held the weekly update on the topside situation in this sector of Floor. Nothing too important, and certainly not irreplaceable. Rene had picked them up a few minutes ago at the office of the info broker the Circle of Thales was currently employing. He congratulated himself on not yet having picked up the datacrystal with the off-planet reports from the Beetle Shack under Cherry Hills. He had planned to do that on the way back down before having a lunch of lava beetle while he was there.

He let go of the folders with a strangled whine and cowered.

“Hank's Beehive is off-limits,” the leader sneered, “didn't you get the memo? He is about to shut down.”

So that was what this was all about. The info broker Rene had just visited had been in a turf war with another info broker two malls down the street for a while, but apparently, things were heating up. Not something he cared to get involved in even though Hank was a decent guy. Well, make that a decent guy for Floor.

“Can't have that idiot handing out charity, can we? Not the Floorian thing to do, eh?” The leader clearly wasn't expecting an answer as he rammed his fist into Rene's stomach.

The punch drove the air out of his lungs and hurt like a bitch. Or rather, it hurt for the few seconds it took his body to repair the damage. Rene crumpled to the ground in a heap. If he looked sufficiently hurt, they would hopefully leave him alone quickly. And not search him. If they tried to take his phone, he would have to do something, though he admittedly had no idea what.

“You understand me, little shit? You stay away from now on!”

“Hey! Stop that!”

A voice ringing out loud and clear in the narrow tunnel rudely interrupted the leader's little speech.

Rene glanced up through his long hair hanging in his face and did a double-take. The tunnel leading back towards the mall was almost filled out by a tall figure in heavy, plate armour, wielding both a broadsword and a fucking tower shield so large he could completely hide behind it. The symbol on his surcoat and shield was unmistakable – Temple Belligra, the Fist of the Church. It was about the last faction Rene wanted to have get involved in this minor scuffle.

Priests were infamous for poking their noses where they didn't belong. Luckily, they were rare on Floor. Yes, they had a few Verata, but they mostly remained inside their Fort Phosphoros Monastery. The occasional Jansahar only paid attention to the local flock who worshipped at the small shrines they kept all over the planet. Both groups were easy enough to evade for someone who didn't need supernaturally talented people scanning them and finding out they were an unregistered psion.

But seriously, a Belligra? There were no faithful in need of protection here on Floor, mostly because there were no faithful here. Floor prided itself with being the most secular planet of the empire, and it was a reputation hard-won.

But apparently, this particular Belligra was set on rescuing him.

Author Bio

We are Beryll and Osiris Brackhaus, a couple currently living our happily ever after in the very heart of Germany, under the stern but loving surveillance of our cat.

Both of us are voracious but picky readers, we love telling stories and drinking tea, good food and the occasional violent movie. Together, we write novels of adventure and romance, hoping to share a little of our happiness with our readers.

An artist by heart, Beryll was writing stories even before she knew what letters were. As easily inspired as she is frustrated, her own work is never good enough (in her eyes). A perfectionist in the best and worst sense of the word at the same time and the driving creative force of our duo.

An entertainer and craftsman in his approach to writing, Osiris is the down-to-earth, practical part of our duo. Broadly interested in almost every subject and skill, with a sunny mood and caring personality, he strives to bring the human nature into focus of each of his stories.

Author Website: http://www.brackhaus.com/

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/people/Osiris-Brackhaus/100011014541510

Author Twitter: https://twitter.com/brackhaus

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/brackhaus/

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6427435.Osiris_Brackhaus

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Osiris-Brackhaus/e/B00IVTRO2E

M.D. Grimm has a new MMF sci fi romance out, Saga of the Bold People Book 2: "Legacy." And there's a giveaway!

What does a former assassin do when he’s not out there… well… assassinating? Saving his species from extinction, of course.

At least, that’s what Leopold wants to do with every molecule in his body. But the task won’t be fast or easy, and he can’t do it alone. Enter Mastrodai—a mrrog prince who has absolutely no desire to rule, much to his father’s exasperation. He craves the ability to prove his worth as a mate and to somehow atone for his actions that led to Leopold’s torture at the hands of an enemy. Making humans official would be a good start.

But politics rule no matter what the species, and Mastrodai has to maneuver carefully and risk what he has built to give his mate what he deserves. And when he realizes both he and Leopold have deeper feelings for Alex, one of Mastrodai’s human slave women, he knows his future is out among the stars with his humans, not planet-bound with his kin.

Unfortunately, before they can set their plan into motion, Leopold receives a vision that sends him reeling and questioning everything he knows about himself. A vision he must investigate, back to where he began—Lex, the backwater planet where he spent his early years, and where he swore never to return.

About the Series:

Leopold is a human in an alien-dominated InterGalactic Community. He gained a reputation as the assassin Voidstriker, until his identity was revealed. He soon finds himself reassessing his life, his mission, and his own identity. Having spent his entire life driven by hate and fear, he soon finds himself motivated by hope and love. He decides on a new mission in life: freeing the human species. It will be a long, hard road, and one he can't walk alone.

Even as his allies grow in number, he will most depend on his mates--Mastrodai, the mrrog prince, and Alexandra, a fellow human, his best friend, and their lover. Along with Sasha, a young girl with extraordinary abilities. Leopold is no stranger to challenges but this might be his greatest trial yet.

Giveaway

M.D. is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card with this tour:

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Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47157/?

Excerpt

The explosion thundered against my eardrums, cutting off my conversation with a large group of crop tenders. All of us flinched and I spun around as the boom thrummed through the air, and every mouth gaped, even mine, when the enormous fireball shot into the sky. Flaming debris rained down on the dry stalks, reaping chaos in seconds.

“Save what you can!” I said in Veruvian, the official intergalactic language. I ordered my bodyguards to split up and keep their eyes peeled. Then I sped toward the origin of the explosion, quickly outpacing Wekladai, my chief bodyguard. I lowered to all fours and raced into the danger zone, dodging and weaving around scalded metal and open flame. A growl sat contained in my chest, vibrating against my lungs. I bared my teeth, blood and death on my mind. Who would dare?

Who would dare?

Smoky hot air burned my nostrils and irritated my throat. I narrowed my eyes in deference to the discomfort, shrugging it off. I’d felt worse. The mrrog academy and my rite of passage had beaten weakness out of me. Not to mention my father’s lessons. I reached the epicenter to find that nothing but rubble and blackened ground remained of the supply building in that quadrant of the moon. I recognized a couple of corpses in the mess as I picked my way through.

My growl finally loosened, and I resisted panting to save my throat and nose. I would personally slice apart the culprit. It could only be sabotage. A competitor, perhaps, angered that I’d received the contract from the InterGalactic Council instead of them.

I straightened and stared in disbelief. Was my security so lax as to allow an enemy to saunter right in? I walked over to the top of a shallow rise to stare out at the acres of crops set in quadrant EC-1. The fire was out of control all around me, the smoke and heat flaming my rage deeper.

Wind rose up and blew away much of the smoke. Movement caught my eye, and I looked down the incline. I froze, staring at the creature standing not far away, next to an old, unused shack. A strange land cruiser sat right next to him. It was a male; of that I was certain. And… could he be… a human?

Yes, he was a human. And a thief. Familiar rejlfei hung from his shoulders and arms, the straps straining against the weight. Did he merely come to steal from me?

Hair as black as the void covered most of his pale face, and brilliant blue eyes reflected the distant sun’s light, reminding me of stars. He was tall for a human, with broad shoulders, and a lean body clothed in a black bodysuit. His face was sharply angled, and yet everything was well-placed, coming together in harmonious union. His expression was stony, and his posture spoke of confidence and strength. The aeunn in his hand never wavered as he kept it aimed at me.

Standing before me was no cowed human afraid of his own shadow. No. He was a predator, one made of grace and purpose and a formidable persistence. Why he was on my moon I couldn’t say, but he wasn’t leaving it. He wasn’t getting away.

I crouched slowly, not wanting to startle him. One good leap and I would be on him. Even as the human must have guessed my intent, because his eyes abruptly shot wide, the wind blew again, hurling his scent into my face. I took a deep breath. His aroma was dense and organic with metallic and synthetic undertones along with a masculine musk that caused me to salivate. It made me think of thunderous nights when electricity charged the air, where passion danced between lovers, a wild and furious battle of wills and the need to dominate. It was violent and edgy, tense and defiant. Alive. Real.

My vengeful rage morphed into a sharp, all-consuming need, and it nearly knocked me on my ass. The wind brought his scent to me once more, and one word repeated again and again in my mind.

Mine.

My body responded in a way it hadn’t in years. Not since Nandeely. Every lover after her had been an itch to scratch. But this human? I had to possess him. I had to claim him now, before he got away. Before another dared touch him. Images of what I’d do once he was under my control caused my cock to slip out of its sheath. I growled at myself. It had been a long while since such control was beyond me. And I needed it now more than ever.

“Mastrodai! What did you find?”

I startled at Wekladai’s voice as he joined me on the hill. Only then did I realize that the human was on his land cruiser and speeding away, clearly determined to escape.

“What was—?”

“Come!” I charged after the human with Wekladai on my heels. My hesitation and the human’s distracting scent had cost me. I snarled and leapt, landing right where the human had once stood. I raced after him but it was no use. I wouldn’t catch him. Despite my speed, his cruiser was just too damn fast. He tore up more crops on his reckless ride, and I took another deep breath, focusing on his vibrant aroma instead of the smoke and burnt metal. Unfortunately, he was soon out of sight but I couldn’t stop running.

“Contact Jauntai!” I snarled at Wekladai. He stopped and I continued on. I followed the human’s trail, easily distinguishing his fragrance amid the acrid burning of the crops. It was a warmth in my blood, a song in my head. I couldn’t analyze the effect he had on me, not yet. I was hunting, and I needed to focus.

The fire swept across the land far too rapidly for me to compete with. The trail was gone in an instant, his scent taken away, only smoke and heat in its place. I stood and growled, frustrated and angry at myself. Surprise had slowed my reactions and now my prey was gone. Prey that should not have found his way on my moon in the first place.

Unacceptable. All of it.

The obvious failure on all fronts burned my pride, and I dragged a hand over my hair. I turned around and huffed a deep breath at the wreckage. Duty first. Always duty first.

I will find you, human.

I hurried back, wary of becoming trapped by the flames. I resigned myself to an unpleasant call to my emperor. I met Wekladai on the way back, and from the look on his face, I rightly surmised the human had slipped through Jauntai’s fingers.

“Why did you hesitate?” Wekladai asked.

I growled. He wasn’t impressed. He was much older than me, about the age of my father, and had known me all my life. He used to be a compatriot with my father before I asked him to head my bodyguard team. He was the only one I allowed to be familiar with me. But right then I wanted to claw his face.

“Mastrodai?”

I turned away. “I must find him. Now. Immediately. Send probes. Look at the satellites and see if they caught anything. I want that blasted human!”

He blinked and tilted his head, ears straight and pointed forward. “Why do I sense more than anger in your urgency? Why do I smell your arousal?”

I spun around and gripped his throat, baring my teeth. He gripped my arm and bared his own, daring me to start something. Our claws slid out, and I was seconds away from brawling.

“Do not question me, Wekladai,” I said. “Not now. Not in this. Find. Him.”

Wekladai growled and covered his teeth. I let go and stalked back to the spot I’d first seen him. It didn’t take me long to find an aeunn that was clearly not one of mine. I carefully picked it up, trying not to handle it too much. I sniffed it. Oh, yes, that was him.

Why hadn’t he shot me? He wouldn’t have missed.

“Jauntai is looking over the recordings now.”

I nodded. Without a word, I walked away, holding the aeunn delicately.

Author Bio

M.D. Grimm has wanted to write stories since second grade (kind of young to make life decisions, but whatever) and nothing has changed since then (well, plenty of things actually, but not that!). Thankfully, she has indulgent parents who let her dream, but also made sure she understood she’d need a steady job to pay the bills (they never let her forget it!).

After graduating from the University of Oregon and majoring in English, (let’s be honest: useless degree, what else was she going to do with it?) she started on her writing career and couldn’t be happier.

Working by day and writing by night (or any spare time she can carve out), she enjoys embarking on romantic quests and daring adventures (living vicariously, you could say) and creating characters that always triumph against the villain, (or else what’s the point?) finding their soul mate in the process.

Author Website: www.mdgrimmwrites.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100001710645622

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/search?utf8=%E2%9C%93&query=md+grimm

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/m-d-grimm/

Author Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com): https://www.limfic.com/mbm-book-author/m-d-grimm/

Author Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/M.D.-Grimm/e/B00I0KZMY6/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0