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RECENT RELEASE BLITZ 
Book Title: Twisted Beauty Author: Maggie Blackbird Publisher: Extasy Books Cover Artist: Martine Jardin Release Date: November 3, 2023 Genre: M/M Dystopian Romance, LGBTQ+, First Nations Romance, Native American Romance Tropes: Enemies to lovers Themes: Trust, Learning to love Heat Rating: 4 flames Length: 63 360 words/222 pages It is a standalone story ad does not end on a cliffhanger. Buy Links Amazon US | Amazon CA | Amazon AU | Amazon UK eXtasy Books | Kobo | B&N | iBooks Google Play | Smashwords | BookStrand 
His community or his enemy. He can’t have both. Blurb Deep in the badlands, long after the fall of modern civilization, Hunter patrols the area as the war chief for his Lakota community. His latest mission is to hunt down a marauder who robbed his neighbors of their precious goods. He’ll act as this man’s judge, jury, and executioner. Having lost everything at his former Ojibway encampment, Chassis is far from home. He wanders the badlands, a grim reaper bringing death to those with what he needs to survive. But there is one man courageous enough to challenge him. When the duo faces off, neither expects the sizzling chemistry to erupt between them, nor for their duel to touch what both have denied themselves. Now they must choose to either remain together and sacrifice their beliefs, or go their separate ways, losing what they’ve spent their lives searching for—love. Warning: Dubious consent, violence Excerpt Until assistance arrived, Hunter needed to keep his wits about him. For instance, why a knife and not a gun? This told him the marauder didn’t possess firing artillery, which wasn’t easy to come by. Acquiring such weaponry meant stealing guns and ammunition or scavenging them when taking down parasites—as Hunter had done many times—or daring to infiltrate the walls of Minneapolis to pinch the precious resources, something his community also did. Voodoo Canyon had been built on heavy artillery ever since Hunter’s great-grandfather had started the village. The knife blade now lay horizontal across his throat. His peripheral vision caught the marauder squatting to retrieve the .38 Special. Hunter wasn’t surprised when the tip of his gun was placed against his temple and the knife sheathed. “Where is he?” It was best to play dumb. “Who?” “You know who I’m talking about.” The marauder ground the gun deeper against Hunter’s temple. “He’s not here. It’s just me.” “I know you didn’t take a stroll out here by yourself, so how far away is he?” As if Hunter would admit the truth. “Not far…at all.” “I see. He walked here, as well? Or did he drop you off maybe a mile or two back? Is that why I never saw headlights or heard the car engine?” Great. Hunter’s gut instinct was right all along. The marauder was crafty. Before he could reply, the whistle of rawhide being released invaded the quiet night that contained only their breathing and conversation. Even worse, the rope was tightened around his right wrist. The marauder yanked, ensuring the tough material was taut enough to cut off Hunter’s circulation. Then the bastard forced Hunter’s arm downward and secured his other wrist. Under another circumstance, Hunter would admire the marauder’s ability to snap the rawhide like a whip wrapping a man’s legs, but not tonight. His predicament was…precarious. Nobody had taken him captive before. Or would he be a prisoner? Highly doubtful. If bound, it’d be easier for the son of a bitch to put a bullet into his… Hunter threw out his leg at an extended angle. His boot clipped the marauder. A grunt echoed through the night’s chilly air. The marauder dug his fingers into the knot of Hunter’s bandana, fighting for leverage, but gravity took them down together. They hit the ground. The gun… Hunter attempted to roll. Before he could turn a full 380, strong thighs sank onto his chest. The marauder unsheathed his knife. The look Hunter faced…tilted eyes crazily wide, slim lips tight, and head cocked so the braid fell over the marauder’s chiseled shoulder. No doubt it was taking every ounce of self-control for the motherfucker not to kill him. With eyes colder than the temperature and his mouth curling at the corner, the marauder pressed the point of the blade into the smooth dip beneath Hunter’s Adam’s apple. 
About the Author An Ojibway from Northwestern Ontario, Maggie resides in the country with her husband and their fur babies, two beautiful Alaskan Malamutes. When she’s not writing, she can be found pulling weeds in the flower beds, mowing the huge lawn, walking the Mals deep in the bush, teeing up a ball at the golf course, fishing in the boat for walleye, or sitting on the deck at her sister’s house, making more wonderful memories with the people she loves most. Author Links Web Site | Facebook Page | Twitter | Goodreads BookBub | Linked In | Amazon Author Page eXtasy Books Author Page | Newsletter Sign-Up 
Giveaway Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win a $5.00 Extasy Books Gift Certificate 
 “So, my brother is barely cold in his grave and you get yourself a brand new boy toy.” Kevin’s voice was so cold Wyatt had to make a conscious effort not to shudder.
The smile slid off Val’s face. His arm dropped to his side. It took Wyatt a few seconds to recover and react. Closing the distance between them fast enough that Kevin wouldn’t have time to back away, Wyatt grabbed Kevin by one arm and pulled them together. He used a hard enough grip and jerked down with enough pressure Kevin gasped. “You never even came to Jack’s funeral, and I’ll wager you don’t even know where his grave is,” Wyatt said in a low voice. “Don’t talk to me like I’m the one who did anything wrong. I’m the person who took care of him right to the end.” “Hey, hey, don’t.” Val had one arm between them, pushing back against Wyatt’s chest. “It’s not worth it.” Wyatt ignored Val. When Kevin tried yanking free, Wyatt tightened his hold. “Don’t you ever talk to him”—he dipped his head at Val—“like that again. Better not forget I know a helluva lot about you that Lily doesn’t, and I’m sure you never want her finding those facts out.” He let go of Kevin, giving him a shove, and stepped back at the same time. “You can’t threaten me,” Kevin snarled. “Funny, I think I just did,” Wyatt snapped back. “And that’s not a threat; it’s a promise.” “I have work to do.” Kevin brushed by them and left the room. Lily frowned at Kevin’s back as she reentered the room. “God, Wyatt, I’m sorry. Kevin is usually still at work at this time.” She held out some small, glossy folders to Val and offered them a small, sad smile. Wyatt kissed her cheek and took Val’s other hand. “No worries. It was bound to happen sooner or later—us running into one another. No harm done. We’d better go now, though.” 
J. Scott Coatsworth has a new MM romance/LGBTQ short story collection out: Love & Limitations. Love & Limitations is Scott's fourth short story collection and his first one featuring his contemporary MM and LGBTQ+ stories:
This is the first time these stories have been collected in one place, and the first publication of “The Boy in the Band.” Warnings: Bullying, suicidal ideation and attempt, past physical abuse, deadnaming Publisher | Amazon | iBooks | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | QueeRomance Ink | Smashwords | Universal Buy Link | GoodreadsExcerpt
From "Ten" Sundays were the worst. Those lazy, quiet mornings, sitting in the big bay window seat across from Ari with our legs entwined. That happy time was long gone. Instead, I was waiting out on the sidewalk, leaning up against the railing of the MARRS Building boardwalk. The wind blew chill, going right through my windbreaker, and the sky was slate gray. It never snowed in Sacramento, but it sure seemed to be trying. I stuffed my hands into my jacket pockets, wishing I had a pair of mittens. As an Arizona boy, I wasn’t used to the cold, even Sacramento cold. I stood at the corner of 20th and K in the heart of gay Sacramento, waiting for a guy named Bryan. Spelled with a “Y”, of course. We gays are nothing if not predictable. Christmas music played from speakers in the eaves of the building behind me. My husband Ari had passed away on New Year’s Eve the previous year. He’d been hit by a street-racing Mercedes when we were crossing J Street, and it had been twelve agonizing days in the hospital before he took his last breath. Three seconds. That’s how far behind him I was, checking something on Facebook. I didn’t even remember what it was. Three goddamned seconds. After a year of being alone, of beating myself up for those three seconds, I’d finally decided that it was time to start dating again. Ari was gone, and nothing would bring him back. He would want me to go on. Still, my heart wasn’t in it. My mother was sick with worry. Every day I got a call or a text or an email asking if I was okay. Ari would want me to have someone again. I was thirty-five, and all alone. I’d challenged myself to go on ten dates in ten days—maybe I’d find someone new. If not, at least I’d have a reason to be alone. And so, Bryan. He was twenty-five, hung, and had no head, at least if his Grindr profile was to be believed. What was it about gay guys and their abs? Then again, I’d swiped right when I saw that gorgeous chest, so I guess I’m part of the problem. Grindr photos never lie, right? Bryan arrived on time — a point in his favor — and he was young and beautiful. Blond, blue eyed, and yes, all of twenty-five. I laughed under my breath. I had underwear older than he was. I’m no slouch at 5’11”, but he was taller than me. Ari had been just my height, with black hair and dark brown eyes. Medium, dark, and handsome. Bryan and I hugged and headed down to Pizzeria Urbano. We grabbed a couple slices and took them outside to the patio. Lavender Heights was quiet today—the cold weather, most likely—and the people-watching was practically non-existent. “You look just like your photo,” Bryan said between bites, flashing me a big white perfectly aligned smile. No one had natural teeth that straight, or that white. “What are you, like forty?” Little shit. “Um, thirty-five,” I replied. “And you have a head.” “What? Oh yeah, the Grindr thing.” He grinned again, and I had to shield my eyes. “I don’t want my parents finding me on there.” That surprised me. “You’re in the closet? I thought your generation was past all of that.” “Nah, I just don’t want them in my business. It’s bad enough I have to follow all the ‘house rules.’ But hey, I like dating older guys.” Ouch again. And he lived at home. But damn, he was cute. I tried to get us back on track. “So what do you do?” “I’m a personal trainer.” He eyed his pizza. “I hardly ever eat this shit.” Of course you are. “Yeah? Where?” “At Lord’s Gym in South Sac.” He poked me in my less than perfectly flat stomach. “Hey, I can get you back in shape—you eat pizza and carbs like this all the time, right? Come in some time and I’ll hook you up.” He finished his slice, licking his fingers. “Suuuuure.” I mentally added a new Grindr rule—from now on, any swipe-rights had to have a head. Bryan was totally wrong for me. Too young, too athletic, not too bright, and he had all the manners of an untrained puppy. “Wanna go back to my place?” he said, panting. Oh my God, that tongue. Ari wouldn’t mind. What the fuck are you waiting for? Ari whispered in my ear. He’s hot. I laughed. Of course it wasn’t him. But it’s exactly what he would have said, given the current situation, and if Ari wanted me to … “Sure.” Bryan took my hand and led me back to his place, just a couple blocks away. The next day, I started an Evernote to keep track and rate my dates. I don’t usually sleep and tell, but I gave Bryan a four and a half for date-ability, and a ten in bed. Author Bio
Scott lives with his husband Mark in a yellow bungalow in Sacramento. He was indoctrinated into fantasy and sci fi by his mother at the tender age of nine. He devoured her library, but as he grew up, he wondered where all the people like him were. He decided that if there weren’t queer characters in his favorite genres, he would remake them to his own ends. A Rainbow Award winning author, he runs Queer Sci Fi, QueeRomance Ink, and Other Worlds Ink with Mark, sites that celebrate fiction reflecting queer reality, and is the committee chair for the Indie Authors Committee at the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA). Author Website: https://www.jscottcoatsworth.com Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/jscottcoatsworth Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/jscottcoatsworthauthor/ Author Mastodon: https://mastodon.otherworldsink.com/@jscottcoatsworth Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jscottcoatsworth/ Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8392709.J_Scott_Coatsworth Author Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com): https://www.limfic.com/mbm-book-author/j-scott-coatsworth/ Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/j-scott-coatsworth/ Author Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/J.-Scott-Coatsworth/e/B011AFO4OQ 
 My snippet this week is from Strays.  “It’s about time you found someone,” Pierre went on happily. “It’s not healthy, Dan, being alone so much.” “It’s a lot saner. Getting attached only gets you hurt, deep down.” “I see how you look at him, Daniel. I think it’s too late. Marie was the best thing I ever had. Don’t forget I know what picking up a street stray is like.” “And look what it got you,” Daniel snapped. Pierre’s face fell and he leaned back in his chair. “I wouldn’t trade those years with her for anything.” Read more diverse snippets in the Rainbow Snippets Facebook group. Strays is available in eBook, through KoboPlus
and most online booksellers. NEW RELEASE 
Book Title: Lonely Diner Author: Dann Hazel Publisher: The Original Press Cover Artist: Josh Fippen; Photograph by Cura Photography Release Date: December 4, 2023 Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance Tropes: Military Romance, Coming Out, Overcoming Adversity, Second Chances Themes: Dealing with Trauma, Gay in a New City, Forgiveness Heat Rating: 4 flames Length: 109 000 words It is part of a series, but each novel can be read as a standalone. It does not end on a cliffhanger. Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited 
Two conflicted military men. A longing for happiness. One Lonely Diner, where people often search for a recipe for love. (The food is good there, too.) Blurb Two conflicted military men. A longing for happiness. One Lonely Diner, where people often search for a recipe for love. (The food is good there, too.) One man plays it straight. Another grieves over a lost best friend with benefits. Everyone thought they were meant for each other. Lance, an Air Force computer engineer, and Ryan, a former submariner in the Navy and now a military college professor, are gay men blinded by the painful wounds of their past decisions. Both men are ready for love. But because of their pasts, they’ve slammed the brakes on their desires. Now thirty years old, a younger Ryan Ball decides he can be happy only by conforming to social expectations. So what does he do? He decides he must have a wife and kids. Though he acknowledges that he can never be straight, he is convinced that with effort, determination, alcohol and erectile dysfunction meds, he can play the necessary roles. Vikki, Ryan’s girlfriend in high school and now his wife, begs to differ. At thirty-one, Lance Dingle falls for his best friend and roommate, Randy, a stunt pilot who agrees to a friends-with-benefits arrangement. From Lance’s perspective, there’s a spark in their arrangement that Randy denies. Then, tragedy strikes. Lance finds himself alone and lonely, living with memories of Randy and an ever-expanding list of “what-might-have-beens.” Finally forcing himself into the dating scene, Lance discovers that Mr. Right is more elusive than he ever imagined. Then, Callie Yenti, transwoman, drag performer extraordinaire and entrepreneur, enters the picture. She owns the popular Lonely Diner and possesses an uncanny insight into the workings of the heart. Even the complicated hearts of her two hard-headed friends, Lance and Ryan. An HEA gay romance. Trigger Warning: This novel includes scenes from a sexual assault and a PTSD episode. Excerpt It was at this point—this question—that Ryan slammed both hands flat against the table. He heard Diamond’s short scream and grimaced. He lowered his voice. “Okay. Fine. The two of you want the truth? The whole truth? You’ll have it, then.” He could imagine what Vikki would say. She would never have advised handling his parents the way he intended now. Ryan inhaled deeply. “For years now, I have denied a big part of who I am. In my denial, I asked Vikki to make a sacrifice—a sacrifice of which she was unaware for years—while I sorted my shit out. A fool’s way of avoiding the truth. It took a stint in the Navy but finally, I did. I sorted everything out and realized I am gay. There. I said it. And I said it without fear or shame.” “Oh, dear God!” Mr. Ball’s voice boomed, echoing against the walls of the dining room. “What kind of farce do you have in store for us next? That you’ve fallen in love with a sailor, and with him, you intend to live happily ever after?” A pause. Then: “Gay!” He spat out the word. “Another fad. Another trend. It’s not real. I’ve known men who thought they were homosexuals, then after years of lying to themselves passed, I discovered they were happily married with children.” “How many people have you told?” Mrs. Ball demanded. “To what degree have you brought shame to this family?” And then, after a thought: “And what about Vikki? Can you say with certainty that you’re really Diamond’s father? After all, you’ve been at sea for months at a time.” “Wait just a minute!” Ryan’s voice exploded. “First, I must say that your assertion is offensive—both to me and, I’m sure, to Vikki. Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I can’t perform sexually with a woman.” He turned to his father. “Which probably is part of the reason why your gay acquaintances were able to pull the wool over your eyes so successfully. Being gay is more than just sex, you know.” Mr. Ball glared at his son. “I am so fearful of what will happen to this country when your generation takes the reins.” “Just—stop it! Just shut the fuck up! Both of you. I’m tired of it. Tired of the bullshit.” The expression on both parents’ faces confirmed the fact that their son had never spoken to them using this tone, these words. Ryan lowered his voice to a subtle whisper. “What Vikki and I are dealing with? Well, it’s our concern. No one else’s.” Then, a voice. Vikki’s voice. Coming from the doorway. Diamond, still absorbed in her coloring activity in the family room. “Please understand. Both of you. I was able to handle your son’s honesty. Was I deeply hurt when I discovered the truth? Yes. Of course. And I’m sure you bear some hurt of your own. But you should not weaponize that hurt into anger against your son. It’s important that you try to do what Ryan and I did. It took some effort, but it was worth it. With open communication and a willingness to be accessible to one another, we began to work things out. I know there are still challenges ahead of us, especially with our little girl. That’s uncharted territory, to be sure. But Diamond is loved. By both of us. We will still be a family, even when Ryan is in Florida and I’m here, in Virginia. We want both of you to be a part of our family. But that’s not going to happen if the two of you can‘t see your way forward to cultivate a little understanding.” To avoid escalating the situation even more, what Vikki and Ryan did not say was that Mr. and Mrs. Ball would never see their grandchild again if they could not surmount their anger, doubt and resentment. About the Author 
Dann Hazel has been writing both fiction and nonfiction for more than twenty years. Besides writing romance, he has taught high school English and journalism, college psychology and human sexuality, directed federal grants and worked as a therapist in a psychiatric hospital. His fiction genre interests include thrillers, horror, literary and gay romance. He has published the Some Like It Haute Gay Romance Series, including Room for Dessert, My Own Private Biscuit and Lonely Diner. Nonfiction works include Witness: Gay and Lesbian Clergy Report from the Front and Moving On: The Gay Man’s Guide for Coping When a Relationship Ends. Dann’s personal interests include reading and writing, cinema, jogging, Broadway, keeping abreast of current events and travel. Currently, Dann lives in Central Florida with his husband, Josh, and their American Eskimo canine, Flurry. Social Media Links Blog/Website | Facebook (Some Like It Haute) | Instagram 
NEW RELEASE 
Book Title: Bad at Being Good Author: A.L. Morrow Publisher: SourGirl Books Cover Artist: Morningstar Ashley Designs Release Date: November 28, 2023 Genre: Contemporary M/M romance, new adult Tropes: brother’s best friend, friends to lovers, first love, bad boy Themes: coping with grief, forgiveness, hurt/comfort, found family Heat Rating: 4 flames Length: 73 000 words It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger. Available on Amazon, Kobo, Apple Books, B&N, and Smashwords 
No one is good all of the time. Especially me. Blurb Six years ago, I promised my friend Kellan that I’d never mess around with his little brother. I accepted it. I didn’t regret it, and I didn’t think twice about it. Milo Sterling—the good student, perfect son, and promising dancer—was off limits. But that was before. Before we went away to college. Before Kellan died. Before I flunked out of school. Now, I’m back home, and Milo’s different. He’s quieter and colder, no longer a boy but a man. And that hurt in his eyes? I put it there the night I failed to save Kellan. I have a lot to make up for. Falling for Milo, no matter how much I want him, would be one more thing to add to my list. But promises are meant to be broken, and if there’s one thing I’m bad at, it’s being good. Bad at Being Good is a best friend’s brother/brother’s best friend (dual POV) M/M romance featuring hurt/comfort, found family, coping with grief, and—of course—a happily ever after. Readers are advised to check the Author’s Note for content sensitivities. Excerpt “I’m sorry for your loss.” I ignore the next person who tries to talk to me, exactly like I did the last. Dad’s eyes bore into me. When there’s a break in the people approaching, he steps closer and leans over my shoulder. “Milo, stand up,” he scolds. “These people are here to support us. Snubbing them is rude.” Mom comes between us immediately. She places her hand on Dad’s arm, but her gaze is warm when it turns toward me. “David, leave him alone. He’s going through enough right now. He shouldn’t have to worry about other people, too.” At least Mom gets it. Dad frowns but stands straight again. Sighing, he looks out across the church. Then, he scowls. “I can’t believe that piece of shit showed up.” I glance over my shoulder in the direction of his stare, and I see him. “Benji?” I whisper. Our eyes lock, and I can barely breathe. He came. I texted him the other night to make sure he knew about the arrangements, but he never replied. Still, he’s here, standing way in the back where people light votive candles. His hands are shoved in his pockets. He’s dressed in black. And although he’ll always be my idea of gorgeous, right now he looks like hell. Gauze is stuffed up his nostrils, and a bandage covers his nose. His bottom lip is split, and he’s got stitches by his hairline and bruises on his cheeks. My dad really did a number on him. “How did he even find out about the service?” Dad grumbles. Because I told him. I knew you wouldn’t, so I did. “David, let it go. He was Kellan’s best friend. He has every right to be here.” Mom hooks her arm through Dad’s and takes his hand, holding him back before we have a repeat performance of their fight in the ER. But she doesn’t stop me. I’m on my feet, making my way to the back of the church before the next note on the organ plays. Unfortunately, Benji moves just as quickly. He beelines toward the door, knowing he’s been spotted. “Benji, wait!” I call. Dad’s voice echoes behind me. “Milo, get back here. They’re about to start. Milo!” Fuck that. Kellan would want Benji to feel welcome. He’d want him to know he doesn’t blame him for what happened. He’d want him to be all right. And you know what? I want that, too. I move faster, jogging down the aisle, taking off after him, but he has too much of a head start. The door to the church swings open. He almost knocks over one of Kellan’s former coaches, but he doesn’t excuse himself or stop. “Benji!” I know he can hear me. I know he saw me. If only he would hold still for a second and give me a chance to explain, to apologize for my dad … I follow him through the front door and make it down the front steps of the church in time to watch his Range Rover pull out of the parking lot. “Benji …” No, he can’t go. He can’t leave me here. I have too much to say. He needs to know it’s not his fault. He needs to know I love him—that I’m in love with him. But he’s gone. 
About the Author USA Today bestselling author A.L. Morrow enjoys dreaming up steamy scenes and spectacular settings—often along with a touch of magic or myth. She believes that love is love and likes reading and writing various genres of romance. In her downtime (what’s that?), A finds delight in scouring for secondhand designer fashions. She briefly lived in a haunted mansion, once took a flight to visit Scotland for a day, and is prone to meeting minor celebrities in random hotel elevators. She resides in the eastern US. Social Media Links Blog/Website | Facebook | Instagram | Newsletter Sign-up 
Giveaway Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win a $10 Amazon digital gift card valid in US, UK, Canada, or Australia stores (winner to pick store) 
   Nick carried two mugs in one hand and a carafe in the other. The aroma wafting around Nick gave away that the coffee in the mugs was dark, rich and hot. It smelled wonderful. He set one mug on the table and slid it over for Todd to grasp. “Thanks.” Todd took a sip and nodded appreciatively. “Decent.” “Decent?” Nick inhaled over his mug, set the carafe on the table, and sat in the other chair. “It’s...it’s…I have no words. I got a cup while you were cleaning up and changing. There is a girl who comes around with a pushcart. Then I hunted her down and ordered the whole pot.” He took a sip and smiled broadly. “I think I scared her.” “Great. Let the help think you’re some sort of crazy coffee stalker.” Nick shrugged. “It’ll fit with my ‘you neglect me’ cover story.” “Did you see anything unusual while you were out boosting coffee and frightening the waitstaff?” Todd took another drink. “Damn, this is good.” “Right? It’s about time we got a job somewhere that can make a decent cup of coffee.” Nick took another sip and adopted an expression that was downright obscene. “As for unusual, do you mean other than owners who allow their devoted and easily bruised slaves to be mauled by old women? No.” Todd ignored the taunt. “I think our first step will be to go for a walk around this boat, check things out and see what we… well, you can see,” he said and picked a brochure off the table, tapping it lightly against its surface. “According to this there is a cleaning service on the main deck. I want to drop my suit off for cleaning and a press.” “You’ve only worn it for a few hours.” Todd smiled and reached out with the folded paper, whapping Nick on the tip of his nose. “You got it wrinkled and mussed up.” “We also need to find out where that coffee girl holes up.” Nick finished off his coffee and stood up. He moved to the door and took his tether from the coatrack next to the door. Coiling it tightly, he shoved it into his back pocket. “My collar and tether don’t need cleaning.” Todd snorted and gathered up the black suit, leaving the portfolio and papers on the table. He put the hat on, tapping the top of his head as he did so. “Let’s go exploring. I can’t wait to get a good look at the rest of this boat.” “I bet Jack James knew the layout of every riverboat he gambled on,” Nick grumbled and trailed a few steps behind Todd as they left their room. Instead of taking the main central staircase, Todd veered to the right and headed toward the back steps, whistling as he went. There were two sets of stairs at the end of the corridor. According to the signs attached to the wall in wooden frames, one went up to the next level and one down to the main deck. Todd pointed to either side and looked at Nick, raising his eyebrows. “You pick.”      Four members of The Vampire Guard—Forge, Blair, Declan, and Lucas—face a dangerous and elusive enemy. And this time, it’s personal. When massive tech outages impact everything from Wi-Fi to traffic control, Blair, Forge, Declan, and Lucas think it’s a simple matter of catching troublesome hackers. But they quickly realize far more is at stake. Millions of dollars in art are the target of a thief who’s not afraid to kill---and he’s no stranger. Not only has he escaped capture, twice, a decade ago, but he’s had a hand in life-altering tragedies throughout their lifetimes. Once it becomes clear that art theft is just a fraction of his plan for mass destruction, they realize time is running out. The clock’s ticking. Catastrophe is imminent. Can they find and disarm all the bombs in time or will countless lives be lost? Available in eBook, paperback and through Kindle Unlimited.
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Book Title: Ugly Beautiful People Author: CJ Bedell Publisher: Next Chapter Publishing Cover Artist: Lordan June Pinote Release Date: August 31, 2023 Genres: Adult LGBTQ Thriller (3 out of 5 point of view characters are bisexual) Themes: Coming out, Self-acceptance, finding yourself, death, grief, loss Heat Rating: 3 flames Length: 59 000 words/249 pages The book stands alone, but it is intended to be the first book in a trilogy. It ends on a small cliffhanger. Most of the plot points that happen in Book 1 are wrapped up, though. Buy Links Amazon US | Amazon UK | B & N | Kobo 
Welcome to Crescent Hills where beauty only runs so deep. Scandal lurks just below the surface behind the McMansions, designer clothes, and fancy cars. And a death will bring the lies, secrets, and betrayals to a boil. Blurb Welcome to Crescent Hills, where beauty only runs so deep. Scandal lurks below the surface behind the McMansions, designer clothes, and fancy cars. When the town is shaken by the disappearance of journalist Ivy Fields, whispers of betrayal and intrigue begin to unravel the threads binding its elite residents. Excerpt Birds screeched when Audrey opened her eyes. She yawned, then stretched. Her back hairs stuck up. Audrey might’ve been lying on the seating of the pontoon boat, but black no longer veiled the sky. Instead, sunlight beamed from the cloudless sky. Audrey scanned the boat. Ivy was gone. Dread filled Audrey’s insides—she couldn’t think of one logical explanation as to why Ivy would no longer be on the boat. Audrey did the only thing she could and leaned up against the edge of the boat and peered into the water. No sign of Ivy. Something vibrated from her jean’s right pocket and she whipped out her iPhone. Sawyer was calling her. “Hello?” Audrey asked. “I wanted to see how you were doing this morning.” Sawyer chuckled. “And don’t worry. I’m not mad you decided to have a fun night with Ivy. Just glad Ivy texted me about you staying over at her place. Most people wouldn’t be so courteous.” “I’m still on the boat,” Audrey blurted. “And Ivy is nowhere to be found.” “Come again?” A folded piece of paper on the driver’s seat of the boat caught Audrey’s attention, and she rushed over to it. “I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta go,” she said. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.” Audrey pressed END before shoving her iPhone back into her pocket. Then, she unfolded the note and read it. Dear Audrey, with my life for a long time, and I’ve decided to end my life. I know my suicide will probably come as a shock to you. However, please always think of me fondly. Love, Ivy Audrey crumbled the note and it fell onto the floor of the boat. After that, she screamed. Tragedies were supposed to be something that she watched on the news, not witnessed first- hand. But no explanation was necessary about how cruel life was and the universe often had a twisted sense of humor. Tears welled in Audrey’s eyes. Nothing could’ve prepared her for this moment, because she wanted to cry. And cry. And cry. Ivy couldn’t be dead; she was only thirty-seven. So, she still had a little more than half her life left. Ivy was in trouble and Audrey hadn’t seen the signs. So, Audrey’d never forgive herself for Ivy’s suicide. Audrey had failed Ivy, and she couldn’t fathom how she’d continue with life. Audrey’s throat tightened. Perhaps Ivy’s death was only meant to resemble a suicide and was really murder. There was a reason people always touted the saying about life being stranger than fiction. Audrey shook her head. Yeah, that had to have been it. Ivy couldn’t have been desperate enough to commit suicide. The only thing Audrey was certain of was that Ivy was nowhere to be found. And that was why she’d get to the bottom of Ivy’s death. Whether someone murdered Ivy or Ivy actually committed suicide, there had to be more to the story. About the Author Chris Bedell is the author of over a dozen novels. He also graduated with a BA in Creative Writing from Fairleigh Dickinson University in 2016. Author Links Giveaway Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win one of two ebook copies of Pieces of My Life. 
 Blair gave him a sour look. “Marriage—” He shook his head and wiped one hand over his forehead, “—is a big step. That’s serious.”
“Oh, cut the crap. I can feel how funny you think this is. Giving me that look does no good. Would you prefer ‘boyfriend’ for the rest of our lives? It was an executive decision.” Blair burst out laughing. “I thought it was panic. Which means you were dangling like a fish on a hook and I missed it,” he said and smirked. “It’ll be pretty cool to meet the president.” “I don’t know if we’ll get to meet him. Probably more like gaze at him from across a room. Sellers also requested Lucas and—” “And that means Declan in the same room with a world leader and whoever comes along with him,” Blair finished. “He avoids trying to hurt people. Not that he won’t if he’s pushed. I’m more concerned with all their jewelry, watches, and wallets,” Forge said. Blair winced, then chuckled. “He wouldn’t. Would he?” Forge shrugged. “He’ll explode if he can’t at least pick one pocket. I guess I can live with it as long as he doesn’t get caught and gives his findings back.” “He does that for sport?” “Oh, hell, yeah. He throws back as much as he steals. I think he likes picking pockets because he can,” Forge said. “You guys are weird,” Blair said and shrugged. “True. It’s part of the appeal.” Forge grinned. “Unraveling the mystery that is Declan and me.” “Uh-huh, sure. When is this dinner?” Blair asked. “I dunno. I’ll probably get more details in the next few days when the Secret Service contacts us. Sellers wasn’t specific on when that would happen. Tsekani is going to have his work cut out for him with this,” Forge said. Blair laughed. “Thanks for the snack, but I have class in a few minutes. You knew that didn’t you?” Forge arched an eyebrow and smiled. “You don’t have to keep this job. Find another one or teach only for Sans Institute, Tsekani and Ueda won’t care.” Ueda was Tsekani’s wife and Blair’s department head. “It’s good cover. Some days are better than others, though,” Blair said and shrugged. |
 Welcome to My World
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