R.L. Merrill has a new MM rock and roll book out: "Brains and Brawn." And there's a giveaway! Billy “Brains” Brennan has achieved rock stardom in not just one, but two chart-topping bands, but events from his past have him convinced he’s living on borrowed time. Brains and his brothers-in-Hush are ready to take the last cross-country Warped Tour by storm...until the actions of two drunk dudes with bad attitudes set off a chain of events that leave him incapacitated...and face-to-face with a handsome stranger who inexplicably feels like home—and not the home Brains fled at sixteen. Chief Petty Officer Paul McNally has spent his 25-year career as a Navy Corpsman responding to emergencies and caring for wounded soldiers. When fate has him in the right place to provide aid to a fallen rock star, it sends his life spiraling on a trajectory he never planned for. Instead of concentrating on his impending retirement and a second career, he’s now playing nursemaid to a fascinating younger man…and falling in love—a fact he can’t seem to figure out how to explain to his adult son. A health scare, band drama, and pain from both of their pasts threatens to end Brains and Paul’s fledgling relationship. Fate brought them together. It will take trust, honesty, and hope to keep them together. Giveaway R.L. is giving away a $25 Amazon gift card with this tour – enter via Rafflecopter for a chance to win: Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47143/? Excerpt
Paul’s head whipped around when he heard the first scream. He watched in horror as the tent Bowie had just been standing in front of—Hush’s tent—collapsed and a crowd of people fell. Without hesitation, he ran for the tent. Then he spotted Bowie standing over some big guy. “You okay?” he yelled to him. Bowie nodded, his big blue eyes wide as he looked back at the disaster. Security began barricading the area around the tent and moving the screaming fans away from the scene. Adults attempted to pull the kids out of harm’s way. That’s when Paul saw the tabletop on the ground and a pair of black-clad legs sticking out from underneath. Oh God. Guys in bright yellow security shirts lifted and pulled the rest of the tent out of the way. Paul rushed toward the broken table and sank to his knees next to Brains. “Can you hear me? Are you with me?” Brains locked gazes with him, and Paul felt pain in his right hand. He looked down to see Brains squeezing the life out of it. “Please don’t leave….” Medical staff approached in blue cargo pants and polos and swarmed the members of the band and their staff, several of whom were on the ground. Two women approached Brains with medical kits, and Paul started to move back, but Brains’s grip grew tighter. “Please don’t leave me!” Brains said again, more insistently. He was panting, his face losing color, and Paul feared he was going into shock. He glanced at the table on his legs and at the staff who were preparing to lift it off him. Paul worried perhaps the worst had occurred, but the fact that Brains was still squeezing the shit out of his hand was a good sign. Brains coughed as he brought his other hand up to grasp Paul’s. “Please!” His appeals were growing in urgency. Paul leaned a little closer to his face and pressed his free hand to Brains’s cheek. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? But they’re going to lift the table now. You ready? Try not to move.” Brains nodded—another good sign—but Paul pressed a hand to his shoulder. “Stay still.” The staff guys counted to three, and then they lifted the table. Brains let out a guttural shout, and tears streamed down his face as he winced in agony. Paul breathed a sigh of relief to not see any blood or rips in Brains’s pants. He half expected to see a bone shard sticking out. But they weren’t out of the woods. “Brains, listen to me, okay?” “Billy.” Paul frowned. “Billy?” “My name is Billy. Please—” “I’m not leaving you, but these medics here are going to look you over, and they’re probably going to poke and prod you a bit.” He nodded to the young women in Rock Medicine shirts who stood by, hesitating to approach. Paul heard sirens in the distance, which meant better-trained professionals were on their way, but Brains—Billy—needed to be assessed immediately. “Sir, we need you to move—” “He’s not going anywhere!” Brains shouted at them. Paul addressed the one with the first-aid kit. “My name is Paul McNally. I’m a Navy corpsman, and I’m trained in triage and emergency medical treatment.” And I’m not leaving his side. The young women looked to each other and then crouched down next to Billy. One of them placed a hand on Billy’s arm. “I’m going to touch you, okay?” “He’s staying with me, you got it? He’s staying.” Billy’s chin quivered as he spoke to the medics. The two women looked at each other with eyes wide. Paul was losing circulation in his hand, but he wouldn’t have left Billy if the entire venue burst into flames. The way he was reacting… Paul had been through countless emergencies and could recognize when there was a psychological issue at work that needed attention. He looked around for Bowie and saw him with Dimples, watching from a distance. Relieved that he hadn’t been hurt and seemed to be doing okay, Paul turned his full attention on Billy. One of the women took Brains’s vitals, and the other ran her hands over his body, checking for injuries. She barely spoke to Brains, and Paul was perturbed at the way they were assessing him. “Billy, can you wiggle your toes for me?” Paul asked. Brains nodded, and then Paul looked at his Vans-clad feet. Thankfully, he saw movement on both. Paul smiled down at Brains. “You’re doing great. You know what today is?” “A fucked-up day? I had a bad feeling this morning….” “Seems like it was warranted.” Brains’s deep blue eyes fixed on Paul, and his breathing seemed to slow for just a moment. Paul hoped that meant he would maybe be able to relax-- “Sir, I’m going to need to put a collar on you.” Brains flinched when the medic touched him. “I’m fine, just let me up—” Paul placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, and it was enough to keep Brains from trying to sit up. “Billy? It’s important that you lie still and let them put a collar on you. With this sort of accident, they need to keep your spine aligned to avoid any further injury, okay?” Brains began to pant and tugged Paul’s hand as though he wanted to try to pull up, but when he tried to move his legs, only the right one moved, and he screamed in pain. “Look at me,” Paul said, getting closer to his face. He needed to distract him, to make Brains focus on him. “Brains, they need to take you to the hospital—” “No. No, no, no, please,” he whispered. “I can’t go, please, Paul, please—” “I’m not going to leave you. I won’t let them hurt you, okay? They need to take you in for X-rays to make sure nothing’s broken.” Brains’s voice sounded like that of a frightened child. Something was seriously wrong. He pulled on their joined hands again, and the medic placed a hand on Brains’s chest to keep him from moving. “Sir? You may have a spinal injury, so we have to place you on this backboard with a collar to protect you. If you won’t cooperate, we’re going to have to sedate you.” “Can you give us a minute?” Paul asked the medics, irritation clear in his voice. “We need to get him to the ambulance,” the medic closest to him said, and then was distracted by the band’s manager. She gave the medic Brains’s information and shot a worried look Paul’s direction. His full name was Billy Brennan. Paul ground his teeth together and took a breath to calm himself. “I understand. Will you give me a moment to speak to Mr. Brennan? I’d like to avoid the use of sedatives.” She nodded, and they stood and backed away a few feet to confer. Paul squeezed Brains’s hand and placed the other on his forehead. “Hey, man. The sedatives are a drag. This will all go better if you let them collar you and get you on the backboard. Hopefully everything is fine. The fact that you’re moving your toes and strangling my fingers leads me to think your spine is just fine, but it’s procedure. I swear I’m staying with you.” Billy swallowed hard, his eyes wild. “I know I’m acting crazy. There’s a reason, I just… please.” Paul smiled at him. “You haven’t seen crazy until you’ve got a wounded Marine pulling his pistol and pointing it at your face while you try to remove a sliver from his other hand.” Brains’s eyes bugged out. “A sliver?” Paul shrugged. “It was a four-inch piece of shrapnel, but I’d still call it a sliver.” He winked, and Brains barked out a laugh. Good, keep that smile. “You going to let them collar you and take you for a little ride?” Brains’s smile faded. “Just please stay with me. Can you? Will you?” If Paul hadn’t already been 100 percent in on this mission, he was now. Author Bio R.L. Merrill brings you stories of Hope, Love, and Rock 'n' Roll featuring quirky and relatable characters. Whether she’s writing about contemporary issues that affect us all or diving deep into the paranormal and supernatural to give readers a shiver, she loves creating compelling stories that will stay with readers long after. Winner of the Kathryn Hayes “When Sparks Fly” Best Contemporary award for Hurricane Reese, Foreword INDIES finalist for Summer of Hush and RONE finalist for Typhoon Toby, Ro spends every spare moment improving her writing craft and striving to find that perfect balance between real-life and happily ever after. She writes diverse and inclusive romance, contributes paranormal hilarity to Robyn Peterman’s Magic and Mayhem Universe, and works on various other writing and mentoring projects that tickle her fancy or benefit a worthy cause. You can find her connecting with readers on social media, educating America’s youth, raising two brilliant teenagers, trying desperately to get that back piece finished in the tattoo chair, or headbanging at a rock show near her home in the San Francisco Bay Area! Stay Tuned for more Rock 'n' Romance. Author Website: https://www.rlmerrillauthor.com Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100005746815103 Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/rlmerrillauthor Author Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/rlmerrillauthor Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/rlmerrillauthor Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/9828914.R_L_Merrill Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/r-l-merrill/ Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/R-L-Merrill/e/B00PI6Q1LI 
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 Hello! We're finally getting some relief today from the heat here in Ohio. Among my favorite books I've written are those in The Sleepless City series. Last month Anne Barwell re-released the first book, Shades of Sepia and in a few day the second book, Electric Candle (written by me) will be re-released into the big wide world.
Today's snippet is from Electric Candle. Lucas pulled one of the chairs away from the table and nodded at it, then sat in one of the others. Blair sat, put both hands flat on the table and asked, “What can you tell me about how this bond works? Forge said you thought there was some kind of evolutionary benefit.” “I’d know a lot more if I could get these journals of Declan’s translated. Forge’s French isn’t that good, and mine is pretty much nonexistent. Declan has translated some, but not all of them.” “It seems everywhere I turn, I’m roadblocked by Declan, and I’ve never even met the guy.” Lucas laughed. “I’ve never met him either, but I’ve read enough to be impressed. He was a French aristocrat who abandoned everything to come to what was the new world, a place completely wild and unknown. He left so he could live a life where he didn’t have to hide who he was. Being gay wasn’t an option in sixteenth century France. He was a kid, something like fourteen when he got on a ship full of pirates to come here.” Read more snippets HERE.  Vasquez and James Vol 2
These books are part of a series and with one exception noted later in this review, they should be read in order. Overall rating 4, but I’ll break it down by book for this this review. This book is actually two novels and a novella, so three compete stories in all. Part One is Saving Sonny James. Rating 4 Luki and Sonny are a wonderful couple! I love how they work together and don’t soft coat anything for each other. In this book, Sonny’s life is in danger. Luki is still suffering the aftereffects of a traumatic incident and is fighting through his PTSD. Sonny is offered an opportunity to teach and participate in a promotional tour in Europe. When he leaves their home in Washington state for France, Luki stays behind because of his mental state, feeling he needs more treatment before getting on an airplane and traveling to another country. While there, Sonny runs into some serious trouble and goes missing. The only problem is, Luki is really the only person who believes Sonny is missing and hasn’t disappeared on purpose. There is truly a great bit of detective work by Luki and his team, across two continents no less. Once in France how Luki enlists help in a county where he’s not a law enforcement agent, but a visitor with limited use of the language is a strong and entertaining part of the story. My only complaints about this book was that I felt the ending was rushed. I also would’ve liked to see more from Sonny’s point of view after he arrives in France. The little bit I did see made me want more details from his side. That was an itch that wasn’t satisfied. Those two complaints aside, this is a solid romantic suspense in an interesting location and enough roadblocks thrown in the characters’ paths to keep me turning the pages. Part Two is Yes. Rating 5 This book isn’t a suspense, I’m not even sure it qualifies as a romance. Yes isn’t the type of story I usually read or like, in fact, I only read it because of this review. When I got the end, I still can’t say it’s a story I enjoyed, or that I was glad I read it. However, that isn’t the fault of the author or the book and there are many people who do enjoy this type of story. If you are one of those people you’re in for a stunningly great treat! The story might very well be one of the most beautifully written stories I’ve ever read. It was impeccably thought out and researched. Yes is an accurate and heartfelt portrayal of what a family goes through when one of its members has a potentially life-threatening disease. As is often the case, the whole family is affected and in many different and unforeseen ways. My personal feelings aside, I couldn’t find a single flaw in Yes. When I came to the end, I was satisfied the story was complete. There were no loose ends I was left wondering about, and no questions were unanswered. If you’re like me and don’t enjoy a very angsty story, this part of Vol 2 can be skipped. Any information from it you’d need is in the third book. Caution to readers, do read the blurb to this story. If you’d like spoilers to how the story ends, you can find viable clues in the blurb to Because of Jade. Part Three is Because of Jade. Rating 3 The bones of this story and the basic premise make it seem as if it’ll be a good, timely suspense with entertaining twists and turns. However, this book simply isn’t up to the standards of Ms. Sylvre’s other novels I’ve come to expect from her as an author. I didn’t feel this book was as well thought out and researched as others in the series. In the book, Luki’s nephew and his wife die, and their child’s custody goes to Luki and Sonny. There weren’t many details about the parents’ deaths, only hints that left me to guess what happened. As a reader I would’ve like a few more facts about what happened to these people. This surprised me because normally Ms. Sylvre doesn’t shy away from or gloss over tragic events. There were a few other plot flaws, questions were left unanswered and in some cases details about characters were stated and then dropped with no real explanation. I was never quite sure what the bad guys’ motivation was, again I was left to guess. The suspense portion of the book only happens in the last third or so. Just when I felt I was getting to the good part and would see some real Vasquez action the story over too quickly with no real resolution or wrap up about why certain events happened. Not a bad book, but not a great book either. I was given a copy of Vasquez and James Vol 2 in exchange for a fair and honest review. I’m looking forward to reading the next series, Vasquez, Inc.! 
R.L. Merrill has a hot new MM Rock 'n Roll romance out, and we have the cover reveal: "Summer of Hush." Plus there's a giveaway! Hush is back… and it’s about to get loud. After two years grieving the death of his best friend, Silas Franklin is back on the road with his metalcore band, Hush. With a new member, a brilliant new album, and a headlining spot on the last cross-country Warped Tour, life couldn’t be better—unless Silas could meet the intriguing music blogger known only as the Guru. Silas has followed his blog for years and feels the Guru might be the only person who “gets” him. For years Krishnan Guruvayoor has reported on the metal scene as an anonymous blogger, and he’s just landed an internship on the Warped Tour as well as a potential position with a well-respected music magazine. His best friend arranges for him to meet singer Silas Franklin—but only as Krish the Intern. Their chemistry is instant, and Krish is thrilled to get to know the man behind the music. The rock star and blogger quickly go from meet-cute to cuddle session, but secrets, overprotective bandmates, meddling media, and a terrible accident all conspire against them. Can their romance survive the summer of Hush? This is a rerelease. Get It On AmazonGiveaway R.L. is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card with this tour. Enter via Rafflecopter: Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47140/? Excerpt
Krish’s finger hovered over the Play button. What if it’s not enough? Krish sat in his bedroom. His last final was this morning, meaning he’d unceremoniously finished college. He came straight home from school to start his new adventure. But before the insanity started, he had something very important to listen to—an album he’d been waiting two whole years to hear. The band was Hush. The album, Sunrise, was their fifth studio album since their founding in 2008. It would break his heart to give a negative review to his favorite band. His alter ego, the Guru, was known for his brutally honest metal reviews. He had a million subscribers on his YouTube channel, where he posted weekly animated shows, five hundred thousand Twitter users who followed his musical and political rants, and his blog posts were often mentioned on such popular sites as Metal Hammer, Loudwire, and even HuffPost. He owed his readers an accurate review, even if he was conflicted. What if losing their guitarist meant the end of Hush? He’d loved them since his brother introduced him to music—specifically metalcore—and though he loved them best, he tried to be impartial to all of the bands he reviewed, from live performances and new albums to whatever he felt the need to riff on. And then there were his posts about social issues, namely mental health and the LGBTQ community. Those tended to get really personal, and after Gavin West committed suicide, his love of music and his personal life intersected. The blog he wrote about Gavin’s death was his most viewed ever and the one he almost didn’t post. “Krish, darling, did you want anything to eat? You didn’t have lunch, sweetheart. I am worried about you.” Krish’s mom stuck her head in his room and found him in the same position—earbuds in, finger over the button, and holding his breath. “Is it the new album from Hush?” Krish nodded. “How is it?” “I’m afraid to play it.” His mom patted him on the shoulder. She knew how devastated he had been by the death of one of his favorite musicians nearly two years prior. She’d cried alongside him, just as she had a year before that when they lost his brother. “Whatever they’ve done, it will be beautiful. They’re talented boys.” Krish smiled up at his mom. How he managed to land the coolest Indian mom on the planet was a mystery he’d yet to solve. She indulged his every passion, from music to politics to books and his guilty pleasure, video games. Her own childhood had not been so free, so she was determined her boys would be able to do whatever they wanted with their lives. For Vivaan, that meant joining the Marines after college. For Krish, it meant a career in music journalism, and now that he’d finished his degrees, he was anxious to get started. “Have you finished packing?” she asked him. Krish swallowed hard. Warped Tour. The other benefit of his blog was that he’d caught the attention of Alt-Scene magazine. Their assistant to the editor in chief had arranged for Krish to join the tour. He’d remain anonymous and only the tour office manager would know who he was and why he was there. To everyone else he was just her intern. He’d post his blog as usual but also work on a piece for the magazine. If the magazine liked how he covered the tour, there was a full-time position waiting for him at the end of it. “Mostly. Jake’s not picking me up until Friday morning. That means I have one more day to stress over what I can and can’t fit into the one duffel bag I’m allowed to bring on the bus.” She smiled at him and tugged on his shaggy curls. “A whole summer on a bus. I hope you made room for air freshener and hand sanitizer.” “There will be women on the bus. I’m sure between them they’ll have something that smells nice.” “It’s been wonderful having you home,” she said, her voice softer. “I’m going to miss you.” “I’ll miss you too, but it’s only two months,” he answered. Krish had moved home when they received the devastating news about his brother, and he’d commuted to UC San Diego for the remainder of his time there, needing to be near his parents as they all worked through their grief. Now that he’d graduated, it was time to start the next chapter in his life, and he’d been given the opportunity of a lifetime. “The first two months of the rest of your life. This is an exciting time for you.” He heard the tears behind her voice. He couldn’t look at her or he’d be lost. “I wish he were here,” Krish said quietly. His brother should be having his own adventures while cheering on his little Guru. But Krish was on his own now, and it was time to think about not only starting a career and leaving the nest, but standing on his own without his biggest supporter. “I’ll come down in a second.” Krish hugged her waist and exhaled a shaky breath. “I’ll heat up some dinner.” “Is there any of that tandoori chicken left?” he called to her. “I’ll heat some up for you. Don’t get lost up here. Just push Play.” She totally understood him. “Thanks, Mom.” Author Bio
R.L. Merrill brings you stories of Hope, Love, and Rock 'n' Roll featuring quirky and relatable characters. Whether she’s writing about contemporary issues that affect us all or diving deep into the paranormal and supernatural to give readers a shiver, she loves creating compelling stories that will stay with readers long after. Winner of the Kathryn Hayes “When Sparks Fly” Best Contemporary award for Hurricane Reese, Foreword INDIES finalist for Summer of Hush and RONE finalist for Typhoon Toby, Ro spends every spare moment improving her writing craft and striving to find that perfect balance between real-life and happily ever after. She writes diverse and inclusive romance, contributes paranormal hilarity to Robyn Peterman’s Magic and Mayhem Universe, and works on various other writing and mentoring projects that tickle her fancy or benefit a worthy cause. You can find her connecting with readers on social media, educating America’s youth, raising two brilliant teenagers, trying desperately to get that back piece finished in the tattoo chair, or headbanging at a rock show near her home in the San Francisco Bay Area! Stay Tuned for more Rock 'n' Romance. Author Website: https://www.rlmerrillauthor.com Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100005746815103 Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/rlmerrillauthor Author Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/rlmerrillauthor Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/rlmerrillauthor Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/9828914.R_L_Merrill Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/r-l-merrill/ Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/R-L-Merrill/e/B00PI6Q1LI/
Queer Sci Fi's sixth annual flash fiction anthology is here - "Innovation" - and there's a giveaway too! IN-NO-VA-TION (Noun) 1) A new idea, method, or device. 2) The introduction of something new. 3) The application of better solutions to meet unarticulated needs. Three definitions to inspire writers around the world and an unlimited number of possible stories to tell. Here are 120 of our favorites. Innovation features 300-word speculative flash fiction stories from across the rainbow spectrum, from the minds of the writers of Queer Sci Fi. Giveaway Queer Sci Fi is giving away your choice of a $20 Amazon gift card OR a print copy of four of the other five flash fiction books in the series – Flight, Renewal, Impact, and Migration (US only unless you are willing to pay the shipping outside the US) with this tour. Enter via Rafflecopter: Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47138/? Excerpts
“The fields are overgrown, have been for years with all the Bios underground. The wind kisses the grass in serpentine patterns long forgotten, patterns the Bios couldn’t imagine anymore. My mechanical hand stores the seed envelope in the mechanical pocket in my androgynous torso. In these suits, there is no gender. Gender is, always has been, in the mind. And I am finally, unequivocally, female.” —Seed, by Val Muller “No one in the village knew what the Change would bring. They never saw it happen. They only knew what they had been promised: the Change would bestow three gifts.” —A New Way, by Rory Ni Coileain “The girl kissed her, hard. Then backed away, grinning, teasing, drawing her to the end of the hallway and a flight of stairs leading downward. She took two steps and gazed back up at Lilian, one hand outstretched. Her brilliant red lipstick wasn’t even smudged. Her skin glowed in the harsh white torchlight.” —The Thing With the Bats, by Mary Francis “Interspecies sex is outlawed on the Freespec Interplanetary Space Station. Politicians call it a safety measure. But I’ve been in the Medical Corps for half my lifecycle, and I call it criminally negligent prudery. Leaders would rather let innocents die needlessly—punctured by sperm darts and dissolved in sacks of voltaic pleasure mucus—than give them the knowledge to express their feelings safely.” — Are My Underwater Sperm Darts Normal?, Brenna Harvey “The bell’s brassy gong echoes through the flat; the walls blush crimson. See, see! He’s at my door. The live feed shows him sniff his armpit; cup his breath. He wants to impress, but I’m impressed already. His lips softly part; he brushes them with stubby fingers, as he waits. Ugly fingers. Ugly hands. Scrawny neck. Milky eyes. But those lips, see, they’re perfect, just perfect. Plump n’ pale, a slither of my future.” —Just perfect, by Redfern Jon Barrett “Lekke looked down over the valley, First People’s home for as long as any tales or dreams could tell. Now only Spirit Dreamer Manoot, neither he nor she but both, and Lekke, elder healer, were left. Lifetimes of Long-legs’ raids had driven First People to their deaths—or, some few, to the Way. If there truly was a Way.” —Going Back,” by Sacchi Green “Savinna limped into her lover's workshop, her hip still sore from tangling with the marabbecca which had knocked her into its well before she managed to kill it. Such was the life of a monster hunter. Not at all surprised to see Larissa hunched over her bench, hard at work tinkering with something, Savinna ghosted her hand over Larissa’s back.” —Those Who Hunt Monsters, by Jana Denardo “The baby cried as Freya lowered the bartering bucket into the wishing well. Many had come to the tree-shrouded clearing to make exchanges—a bushel of azure apples for a sword, a woven blanket for a day of rain. The well had been the final creation of a thousand-year-old inventor. But dead wizards often don’t anticipate how their gifts birth consequences.” —The Bartering Bucket, by Diane Callahan Author Bios 120 authors contributed stories for this volume:
M.D. Grimm has a new MM fantasy book out, A Warrior's Redemption book one: "Healing Lance." A baby’s laughter. A mind uncaged. Lance is known as Scourge, the warrior in the black armor, the dog of the warlord Ulfr Blackwolf. He was just a boy when Ulfr found him and molded him into the perfect weapon. He slaughters and pillages on command, merciless and numb, devoid of emotions. Then a baby girl laughs at him during a raid. And everything changes. When Gust, a talented healer, is out deer hunting and stumbles across a magnificent horse bearing a mortally wounded rider, he has no idea that his life is about to change forever. Gust applies all his skills to his patient, determined to save the rider’s life, and is rewarded when the man opens his eyes. As friendship, and more, bloom between warrior and healer, so does the danger over the horizon. Ulfr has not forgotten, and Lance must take his first steps on the long road to redemption. Giveaway M.D. is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card with this tour – enter via Rafflecopter: Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47137/? Excerpt
Chapter One The baby shouldn’t matter. But she did. He easily held her small body in his broad hands. He knew the baby was a girl because she was naked. She kicked her legs as if she wanted to dance, and her wide amber eyes gazed at him in seeming fascination. He stared down at her, wondering why she didn’t scream. Didn’t babies scream? Adults certainly did when they saw him. He didn’t like the sound. All he wanted to do was silence the noise. The baby stared at him a moment before her mouth curled up at the corners, and she laughed. He froze at the unusual sound. With eyes alight, she grabbed her feet and continued to laugh. It was… all the things foreign to him. It wasn’t cruel or dark but careless, showing a freedom he’d never known. She wiggled in his hands, her pale, pink body flush with life and potential. Battle roars and the cries of the dying met his ears again, in stark contrast to the little life he held. He wrenched his gaze away from her and looked around the charred hut and over the collapsed roof. The light from the fires consuming the village illuminated the destruction and the blood splattered on the walls and floor. It was a view he was accustomed to, one he understood. The weight of his sword was one he only noticed when it wasn’t there. He returned his gaze to the baby. This was something he didn’t understand. She was confusing. She laughed again as goosebumps broke out over her body. She was cold. He scanned the area and spotted a blanket that only had blood on one corner. He wrapped her as best he could, another thing unfamiliar to him, and his black armored gloves made the action awkward. Then he pressed her against his steel chest. He wanted her to survive. He didn’t know why—he just knew he didn’t want her to die. “Please….” A young woman lay on the floor at his feet, one he thought was dead. It appeared she had only been knocked out. She lay on her side, one arm stretched out to him, her normally golden skin sickly pale. Her dark brown hair was short, barely reaching past her ears, and one side of her head was caked with blood. The southern part of the kingdom of Grekenus didn’t seem too fond of hair as most of the men in the village were bald and beardless while the women grew hair no longer than their chins. “Please don’t kill her,” she said, dark eyes wide and dazed. “Don’t kill my daughter. Please, I beg you.” She spoke in Spart, the native language of the kingdom. He knew it well enough to communicate effectively. He looked at the baby and then back at the woman. If he wanted the baby to survive, she needed a caretaker. Since the woman was her mother, who better? He strode over to the woman where she struggled to rise and grabbed her arm. She winced at his grip as he tugged her to her feet. He shoved the baby into her arms before dragging her outside. “What are you—?” “Silence,” he said curtly. He observed the chaos through the smoke and beyond the fires. The broken dead littered the ground and fire ate everything it touched. A horse galloped toward them, one that belonged to the village since there was neither a saddle nor bridle on the beast. He let go of the woman and pointed to the ground. “Stay.” Then he strode in front of the horse and held up his hands. The beast reared on her hind legs, neighing in fright. Unlike with humans, he knew how to speak to horses. It wasn’t long before he’d calmed her and had her under control. He petted her neck and muzzle, whispering kind words. The frantic look in her eyes eased, and he led her over to the woman and the baby. She swayed on her feet and had stayed where he told her to, not that he’d doubted she would. The hope for escape let her trust him. He quickly found a length of rope and looped it around the horse’s nose and neck. “Get on.” She didn’t question him this time. She struggled to follow his command, and he realized the horse was just too tall for her to mount without help. He shoved her up, and she sat unsteadily on the horse’s back, her daughter clutched to her chest. She stared at him, and he noted the blood from her head now stained the side of her face and dress. She would see nothing of his face since his black armor covered every piece of flesh, and his eyes were barely visible through the narrow visor slit of the helmet. “Go.” He slapped the horse’s rear and the mare bolted. The woman leaned over the horse and let the mare lead them away from death. Another warrior, part of the warband, nocked an arrow and leveled it at her. He strode over and kicked the warrior’s knee, sending the man crashing to the ground with a scream of pain. The arrow flew wide. Another warrior was about to give chase on horseback, and he dashed over to grab the sword from his hand before shoving the warrior off the saddle. A few other attempts were made to stop the fleeing woman, and he stopped them all, causing various injuries and not caring in the least. He had no affinity to any of the warriors in the warband. He had no affinity to anyone… except the tiny girl. He still couldn’t figure out why. He wondered if he ever would. He stood there, on the muddy ground soaked with blood, staring after the woman. The smoke burned his throat and stung his eyes. The scent, the noise, the mess of battle he knew like he knew his name. He’d never been curious about anything beyond his current life. Now he did. He hoped she took good care of her daughter. “Lance!” He blinked and turned around. The warlord Ulfr, known throughout the Nifdem Empire as Mad Blackwolf, stalked over to him, expression like a thundercloud, his black, bushy beard and thick head of hair obscuring most of his ruddy face. He wasn’t as tall as Lance, although he was much broader, and there wasn’t a weak bone in his burly body. The quality of his black long-sleeved tunic, trousers, and boots showed a hard but fruitful life, and a few glistening red splatters indicated he didn’t leave all the fun to his warriors. A few of the warriors that Lance had attacked hobbled after their commander, scowling and muttering curses. All the men sported beards of one length or another. Lance remained clean shaven since the helmet made having a beard quite painful as it tugged on the strands and chafed his skin. “You will explain to me why you disobeyed a direct order!” Ulfr said when he reached Lance. He spoke in Taris, the official language of the empire. His clenched fists and tight jaw indicated his fury, and the rest of the men and women in their warband cowered at such a sight. Not Lance. He didn’t feel fear. Lance took off his helmet, long honey blond hair sticking to his face, pressed there by the constriction of the helmet and sweat glistening on his pale skin. Frosty blue eyes stared at Ulfr, eyes hollow from years of war and brutality. Yet, if Ulfr had looked closer, he would have seen a spark of life newly lit in the void. Lance tucked the helmet in the crook of his arm and smoothed back his hair, the armor grinding and clanking. “I didn’t want the baby to die.” Ulfr blinked. “What?” Lance frowned. He knew Ulfr had heard him clearly enough. “I did not want the baby to die,” he said, slower this time. “She couldn’t survive on her own, so she had to have her mother with her.” Men and women gathered around them, filthy warriors stained with the evidence of their raid and slaughter. Everyone wore trousers and tunics, though some of the women chose more form-fitting clothing that extenuated their feminine attributes. The ethnicities in Ulfr’s band were as varied as the colors of their wardrobes. Though none dared wear purple or, worse, silver and purple combined. A person could be killed for being so presumptions. Only imperial royalty wore those colors. Several men were retying their trousers, having violated their victims before killing them. Lance observed the crowd with a detached eye. He knew what would happen now. He’d known it the moment he made the decision to save the infant. “You disobeyed me!” Ulfr gripped the collar of Lance’s breastplate and yanked him closer until their faces were inches apart. “You showed mercy when I told you all to slaughter those who don’t give us tribute. These people spat on us as if they were better, and so they deserved their punishment. You’ve followed my orders before, Lance. Why not now?” “I told you.” Ulfr shoved him away. Lance stumbled back two steps before standing still, like an oak tree against a high wind. The complete slaughter of a village or town wasn’t what Ulfr usually did. He wouldn’t raid if they paid him. Normally, if they resisted, Lance would only kill one or two people to make a point, and then the villagers would hand over whatever Ulfr wanted to make him go away. This village had done that in the past, and yet they recently decided to fight back against Ulfr’s protection racket. They paid the ultimate price, an example to all who dared defy Mad Blackwolf. The village was close to the border between the kingdoms of Grekenus and Cairon, and mostly safe from the ravages of the civil war, since it was deep into the protective territory of one of the kings. And yet sometimes, like that day, warlords got through. Ulfr’s band had had scuffles with army units now and then over the years that gave Lance more of a challenge, but none recently. “You disobeyed me for a wench and her spawn?” “I did not want the baby to die,” Lance repeated. “You will go after her.” Ulfr pointed in the direction the woman had fled in. “You will redeem yourself and escape my wrath but only if you go now.” “No.” Every single man and woman there gaped, eyes wide. Ulfr’s eyes bulged and his face grew red. “You ungrateful maggot! Who raised you? Trained you? Who saved you from becoming crow food or sold into slavery? You owe me your loyalty!” Lance stared at Ulfr. Yes, all he said was true. But there was no way Lance could ever hold his sword over the neck of that baby and kill her. Her laugh echoed in his mind and seemed to unlock something. Something scarred shut. No, she would live. He dropped his helmet to the bloody mud, followed by his sword, which had taken countless lives without mercy or hesitation. He stood before the warriors, those he’d trained and slaughtered alongside. Despite living with them, killing with them, he didn’t know them at all. He never cared to. “I am done,” he said. 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: https://www.mdgrimmwrites.com Author Facebook (Author Page): 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
It was a man, though the dread Forge was feeling might have been less if it’d been a woman. The guy wore what appeared to be homemade steampunk goggles with dark lenses, a long-sleeved black shirt, and black jeans. “Sweet mother of God, is that a cape?” Forge muttered and took a few steps forward. “No, stop, don’t—” His warning was too late. The oddly dressed man began to run down the steps—the slippery, wet steps, waving his arms. He’d gone about three steps when his feet slid out from under him and his rear hit the stone stairs. Electric Candle can be pre-ordered on Amazon or purchased on Payhip for the special pre-order price of $3.99.
Jeanne G'Fellers has a new queer historical dark fantasy/magical realism book out: "Striking Balance." And there's a giveaway! An Appalachian Elementals Historical Dark Fantasy Side Tale. Benjamin Schnell is the possessor of secrets he wishes he could bury beneath the rich Nolichucky river flat dirt he farms alongside his dear friend, Conall. But secrets lead to lies, lead to more secrets, and all eventually come home to roost in a bed of distrust, even on the 1779 Appalachian frontier. After Ben is injured, he realizes there are odd things happening around him that others cannot see. Corner shadows take human shapes, lightning bugs dance in broad daylight, and the farm’s strange owner, Master Gow, returns with an offer Conall cannot refuse if Ben is to live. But making a deal with Master Gow will take them deep into the mountains to where a haunted king reigns and Fire balances Water in a delicate natural friendship. Ben must learn self-acceptance and trust if he and Conall are going to survive because there can be no secrets in the mountains, only truth. Another rich tale from the Appalachian Elementals world focusing on complex families containing rich LGBTQIA+ characters. Giveaway Jeanne is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour – enter via Rafflecopter: Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47132/? Excerpt
I open my eyes to whitewashed walls and sunlight streaming through large open windows covered by gauzy curtains. This is a quiet space reminiscent of my youth. The window is wide to the afternoon air, my pillow is soft, my bed comfortable with sweetgrass, and I rest beneath the lightest of patchworks. And my shirt ‘tis cotton. Heaven. Yes, I am certain I have reached the hereafter. Perhaps I can see Mutti again and-- “Get back here ye’ fool!” I turn my head in time to see Alexandria pause before a window. Her face is flushed, and her hands are in fists at her sides. “Get back here wit’ mah pie!” “Come get it, you flightless baggage!” My thoughts of Heaven erode when Alexandria launches into a long line of Scots-Gaelic curses of the likes I have not heard since I left the mine. This is not the Alexandria I know and respect, not the voice of a proper lady at all. She hisses as she threatens to cut off his twiddle-diddles with her kitchen knife, cook them in the pottage, and feed them back to him. “Return Lexy’s hard work, boy.” This is Master Gow’s voice, but ‘tis also not, higher in tone but equally powerful, and I wonder if he has a sister. “And the crust best not be broke!” “But… ow!” I am unable to see what occurs next, but a man crosses in front of the window with a pie in his hands and something or someone I cannot see is dragging him. “Ow! King Dane, please! I am sorry, Lexy, real sorry!” King? This woman who I suspect is related to Master Gow is named King Dane? Whatever… My cough returns, deep and fluidic, but ‘tis clearly not to be my death so I look for something to spit into. “There’s a bucket of sawdust at your bedside, Benjamin.” Master Gow’s sister speaks from just outside the window. “I’ll be there shortly to talk with you.” Her voice turns away. “Go cut two days of wood for the main kitchen,” she tells the man who is still apologizing to Alexandria. “But I got hides to scrape and…” “Do it! Then scrape them hides.” “Ow! Yes, King Dane.” I crawl deep beneath my quilt when their voices fade. Where am I? At this point, I have no clue, but I believe I am alive. The table beside my bed is laden with bottles, jars, a fleam and cup, but there is also a mug so I sit up, examining the contents, water, before I drink. I startle when the door to the apartment swings open. “Ah brought ye soup an’ tea.” Ceardach deposits a tray onto my lap. There’s also buttered bread on the tray, along with bacon, eggs, and a bowl of beans. “Thank ye, but I need to…” “Of course.” Ceardach pulls the tray away. “Th’ pot’s under th’ bed.” I hesitate, but my need is too great so I swallow my pride, thankful when he moves to stand in the doorway with his back to me. “Ye need tae drink more.” Ceardach returns to my side when I am abed and pushes the pot under the bed after he examines the contents. “An’ ye best get over bein’ bashful right quick. Someone will use it against ye.” He drops the tray onto my lap, “Eat.” pulls his pipe and pouch and begins filling the bowl, watching as I take up my spoon. The food has most certainly been made under Alexandria’s watch. I can tell by the seasonings, and… I am nearing famished. “Slow an’ steady. Let one bite settle afore th’ next.” Ceardach lights his pipe so quickly I see nothing but a flash. The outside din continually grows while I eat, but Ceardach pays it no heed. I hear hammers striking anvils, a proliferation of swearing, wood being split and stacked, the sounds of a wider community. The smells coming through the door would be enough to turn my stomach if I was not so hungry. Baking bread, multiple privies, wood, ash, dirt, burning wood, herbs, and… I smell iron and sulfur, but none of it quells my appetite to the point I cease eating. “Am I in a town?” I shovel more into my mouth. “Of sorts. Ye will grow accustomed tae it all.” Ceardach blows out a billow of white smoke that rings his head then drifts away. “Yer cough an’ congestion will fade in time.” I nod and bite into my bread. My appetite must be part of my recovery, a drive for nourishment so I might heal quickly. There is another bed I have ignored until now, unmade, with blankets folded neatly at the foot. “Where am I?” “In the kingdom.” He points to my water. “Drink.” “But…” “Drink first.” I am obedient, but he tells me to empty the mug before he will speak further. “Good, now—” Ceardach raises his head. “Ah, here’s yer answer.” I attempt to sort through all I see, but ‘tis difficult. Is this Master Gow or-- “Stop gawkin’. ‘Twill get you slapped ‘round here.” “If not hit or cut,” adds Ceardach. “Sit, Dane. Ah will step out but stay close.” “Aye, Ceardach, thank you.” I see a woman’s face, a man’s work cap atop her head. “You’re still under my protection. That hasn’t changed, but the rest…” She wears trousers and a calf-length smith’s apron over a man’s red check work shirt with rolled sleeves. “You’re starin’ even longer than Conall did.” She pulls a tobacco twist from her apron pocket and bites off a piece. “Are you as tongue-tied too?” “I…” This woman bears the same tattows as Master Gow. “No, sir, I mean, miss, I mean…” “You’ll address me as King Dane ‘til I tell you elsewise.” My spit bucket slides across the floor to her feet. “How will you address me?” “I…” “Say it, Benjamin.” She spits into the bucket. “‘Tis important you know my station ‘round here.” “Yes, King Dane.” But this is a woman. How does she warrant the title of king? “And you never disobey your king, right, Benjamin?” “Yes… King Dane?” “Smart man. ‘Tis why I chose you, but I made Conall in the process, an excellent deal I am pleased we could accommodate.” King Dane seems amused by my gaping mouth. “Calm yourself. I hear your heart poundin’ from here.” Author Bio
Born and raised in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, Science Fiction and Fantasy author Jeanne G'Fellers' early memories include watching the original Star Trek series with their father and reading the books their librarian mother brought home. Jeanne's writing influences include Anne McCaffrey, Ursula K. LeGuin, Octavia Butler, Isaac Asimov, and Frank Herbert. Jeanne lives in Northeast Tennessee with their spouse and five crazy felines. Their home is tucked against a small woodland where they regularly see deer, turkeys, raccoons, and experience the magic of the natural world. Author Website: https://jeannegfellersauthor.com/ Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/Jeannegfellersauthor Author Twitter: https://twitter.com/jlgfellers Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorjeannegfellers/ Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/kindle-dbs/entity/author/B01N0YWCT7?
Jules Radcliffe has a new mm/gay pirate romance out: "Pirate Master." And there's a giveaway! A strait-laced lieutenant. A free-living pirate. A hopeless love. Quinn has never met a man quite like Perry. Stern and cold on the outside, burning up inside with secret passion. Yearning for a mastery only Quinn can satisfy. But Perry is no outcast—he’s a respectable officer in His Majesty’s navy. Reluctant to test his love for a pirate, Quinn baulks at asking him to give up everything he holds dear. Though he has no regrets about their night of glorious sin, Perry sees no future with Quinn. Unlike the pirates of Port Royal, he isn’t free to love where he pleases. If word of his illicit affair came to the ears of Commodore Pobjoy, his career would be at an end. And the disgrace might mean he could never return home to England. With war on the horizon, the Caribbean is a hotbed of intrigue. Quinn is betrayed and thrown into Monte Gris, an impregnable dungeon even the fearsome Brethren of the Coast aren’t strong enough to breach. Perry is stunned. Everything he valued is hollow and meaningless without his master. Willing to risk all to get Quinn back, he refuses to abandon hope and plots a daring and dangerous rescue. But he can’t do it alone. He’ll need every scrap of ingenuity at his disposal to persuade the Black Wolf and the crew of the Audacious that his plan will work. This time, it’s not just Perry’s career and reputation at stake. If he fails, men will die. And both he and Quinn will suffer a gruesome fate at the hands of a terrifying acolyte of the Spanish Inquisition. About the Series:
The Golden Age of piracy—a time of terror on the high seas, of romance and intrigue, of dastardly deeds. In Port Royal, a brotherhood arises. A society of gallant buccaneers and rough marauders who owe allegiance to no one but themselves. Fiery men of fierce passions who take what they want and love where they choose. Set sail for swashbuckling adventure with the Pirates of Port Royal! Giveaway Jules is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card with this tour – for a chance to win, enter via Rafflecopter: Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47136/? Excerpt
The faint chime of watch bells sounded. Perry, still nine parts asleep, automatically counted two and one. Not yet time to rise. He subsided back into his lover’s embrace. Recalling whose arms were wrapped strong around him, whose heart beat slow and steady under his ear, Perry smiled drowsily. Sometime later, he woke alone, the bed beside him cold. Disappointment gripped him. But when he lifted his head, he saw a pair of boots, the tops sagging to one side, and a shirt and breeches hanging from a hook. Quinn’s clothing from last night. Wherever the master had gone, he could not be far. Perry stretched out stiff arms and legs, and rubbed his tender arse in idle memory. Thinking of last night brought a grin to his face. He climbed from his bunk and stuck his head through the stern window. The harbour was smooth and still, and other ships and boats were faint silhouettes in the predawn gloom. With only a handful of men aboard and the watch changeover at least an hour away, he took the chance no one would be wandering about this part of the ship. Naked but for his shirt, he dashed to the wardroom quarter gallery. He peered into the little mirror nailed to the bulkhead. If he stood in the right spot, he could see his whole face in its burnished surface. He was surprised to see looked much the same. He touched the scar under his eye and traced down to his lips with light fingers. Mayhap the customary tightness in his face was eased. The crew would tease him mercilessly for last night, but it was a price he was willing to pay. He wanted more of Quinn’s kisses, both the rough and the gentle. Never had he dreamed they would be lovers, not after so many months of crossing swords. It had taken him so long to come to his senses. Too long, he thought wistfully. Because one way or another, his time with the Brethren of the Coast was about to come to an end. The news flying around the port came to his ears as soon as he set foot on land yesterday. Governor Modyford, newly appointed and on his way from Barbadoes, intended to honour King Charles’ new accord with Madrid. The market was abuzz with speculation. If the governor revoked the marques against the Spanish, would the Brethren ships change allegiance? Would they go to the French colonies of Saint-Domingue and Tortuga, or even to the Dutch in Curacao? The Audacious might not abandon Port Royal, but Perry was still a lieutenant in the navy. He would still have to leave. Making peace with Spain was a clear sign that the English crown had made its decision—war with the Dutch Republic. Sooner or later Perry would be recalled, returned to England to defend home shores. Belike he would be given a command. Not even Commodore Pobjoy’s spite would stop him being promoted in a time of war. For years, Perry had dreamed of being a captain. For months, he had pined to return home. At last, he was on the verge of having his ambitions granted. He sighed at the irony. Because last night, Quinn made himself Perry’s master, and everything had changed. The ambitions he had once aspired to, the blocks on which he had built his lonely existence, the things he had long accepted as his lot in life, all had collapsed like a house upon the sand. Now his greatest wish was to stay in the Caribbean and serve aboard the Audacious. Even if he never rose higher than second mate, he preferred that to being half a world away from Gabriel Quinn. But his native caution warned him to be wary. Not to put too much stock into Quinn’s sweet words of possession.Their shared passion might be as ephemeral as a candle: burning bright whilst the night lasts, naught but a puddle of cold wax in the light of day. After all, the sailing master could do better than a charmless nobody. Perry stared at himself in the mirror. Staring back was a man all of drabness: mousy hair, colourless eyes, bland features. And there were deeper things amiss with him, things beyond the power of a mirror to show: tongue-tied in company, lacking any gentlemanly refinement, ignorant and uneducated. What could a man like Quinn see in him? A complete mess is what he’ll see if I don’t clean up. Perry smoothed down his wayward curls in an attempt to look less freshly fucked. He grimaced, an expression that landed somewhere between smug and rueful. Even if Quinn did not fuck him into disarray again this morning, erelong every pirate in Port Royal would know the sailing master of the Defiant had tamed the uptight Mr Perry-grin. He filled the basin and stripped, splashing his body and dousing his head. He scrubbed vigorously, feeling an energising tingle all over. Some parts of himself, however, were very tender, and he dabbed the cold water carefully on those raw places. The door creaked. Snatching up his shirt, he pivoted to put his back to the wall. Quinn stood in the doorway clad only in his drawers, his magnificent chest on display. Perry’s breath caught, and he was tempted to drop to his knees. Instead, he dropped his shirt. Quinn knew his scars; last night he had traced every one with tongue and finger. Perry felt no shame before him. At this show of trust, he was rewarded with the master’s sensuous smile. He returned the smile shyly and turned back to the basin. He sluiced his torso, washing off the remnants of soap. A new excitement buzzed in his veins when he heard Quinn’s breeches drop to the floor. Arms slid about his waist, and his heartbeat kicked up. A naked chest pressed to his damp back, kisses marked his shoulders. A firm prick prodded his bare buttocks. “’Tis dangerous for a pretty boy to be wandering naked around a pirate ship,” murmured Quinn into his neck, kissing and nibbling. Tilting his head, Perry leaned back into the embrace. “Am I in danger, Master Quinn? Surely you’d not take advantage of a defenceless sailor lad.” Quinn bent him forward. Hands on the bulkhead, he pushed back as a hard length slid between his thighs. “Only when he’s as saucy a piece as you, Mr Peregrine. I’ll be taking advantage of you at every opportunity.” Author Bio From the time I learned to talk, I told stories. From the time I learned my letters, I wrote the stories down! I love vintage items, from advertising posters and pulp fiction covers to Art Deco furniture to Victorian sex toys. I’ve lived, studied, and worked in several countries, but I always return to Australia. My home is near the beach in Queensland, where I live with my unconventional family. But I miss the cold winters and often dream of sitting by a blazing fire on a snowy night. Author Website: http://www.julesradcliffe.com Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/JulesRadcliffeAuthor/ Author Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/julesradcliffe Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/jules-radcliffe/ Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Jules-Radcliffe/e/B00X0WAI66
Dahlia Donovan has a new MF bi/ace cozy mystery romance out: "Poisoned Primrose." Meet Motts and the quirky cast of characters in her world. Poisoned Primrose is a quintessential cosy British mystery and an all-round fun story to throw yourself into. Autistic, asexual, and almost forty, Pineapple “Motts” Mottley flees London with her cat and turtle to a quaint cottage in Cornwall. She craves the peace of life in a small village. The dead body buried in her garden isn’t quite what she had in mind, though. Unable to resist her curiosity, she falls directly into a mess of trouble and runs head-first into the attractive detective inspector, Teo Herceg. She tries to balance her business with the investigation, but as the killer focuses on her, staying alive becomes trickier than advanced origami. Will Motts survive the onslaught of murderously bad luck? Can she solve the mystery before it all spins out of control and off a cliff? Publisher | Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CAN | iBooks | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | QueeRomance Ink | Smashwords | GoodreadsGiveaway Dahlia is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card with this tour. Enter via Rafflecopter for a chance to win: Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47135/? Excerpt
Chapter One A cat, a turtle, and a Pineapple walk into a cottage…. That’s it. That’s the punch line of my life choices. “Well, here we are.” Motts closed the solid wooden front door to her new cottage, leaning back against it and releasing a pent-up sigh. She opened her bluish-grey eyes to stare at all the boxes, plastic bins, and bags. “Bugger. You’ve no one to blame but yourself for this, Pineapple Mottley.” Pineapple Meg Mottley had been so named because her mother had craved nothing but the tropical fruit during her one and only pregnancy. There’d only been one issue. No one ever called her Pineapple; her uncle had nicknamed her Motts as an infant, and it stuck. Meow. The plaintive cry came from behind one of the boxes. Motts moved quickly to lift up her precious cat. Cactus was a tortoiseshell Sphynx cat; she’d found the poor dear at a shelter and fallen head-over-sneakers in love. He buried his head in her shoulder-length brown hair, purring his little heart out. She stroked the suede-like downy fuzz covering his wrinkly body. “What are we going to do about this mess? Want to help me unpack? No?” Figures. What have I gotten myself into? When her auntie Daisy had passed away, Motts had taken the inherited cottage as a sign. London had always been overwhelming to her senses. Polperro was a much quieter place with a slower pace suited for her autistic needs. She loved Polperro. Her parents were both originally from Cornwall. A lot of her family lived in the area, as did her ex-girlfriend. Despite having spent many a holiday with family at the cottage, Motts found herself overwhelmed by the sudden change. This was a terrible idea. I should’ve sold the house. I am such a silly fool. Okay. Take a few deep breaths. Match Cactus’s purring. You’re going to be okay. “Ahh!” She jumped when a rapid knocking on the door jolted her. “For goodness sake.” “Motts? You okay?” She spun around and yanked the door open to find the welcome sight of her ex-girlfriend, Pravina Griffin, and Vina’s twin brother, Nish. “I’m….” How do I finish the sentence? Panicked? In the middle of the biggest mistake I’ve ever made? Just slightly overcome by irrational fear? Nish moved forward to take Cactus from her arms while Vina led her inside. “Amma is bringing over supper. She wanted to let the sambar simmer a little longer. She even made your favourite kind of rice.” The Griffin twins took after their Tamil mother, Leena, who’d been a Bollywood star before falling in love with Cadan Griffin, a Cornish-Indian cricket player. They’d settled in Polperro to run a coffee shop and bakery. Griffin Brews had been around for thirty-plus years, and now their children managed it, allowing their parents to retire early. Leena and Cadan had welcomed Motts with open arms even before she’d briefly dated their daughter. Motts and Vina had realised over the years that their close bond felt more like that of siblings. They’d dumped each other but remained the best of friends, where they’d started in the first place. “Let’s talk about something less daunting than unpacking. How goes the dating life? Did you fill out a dating profile on the site I emailed you?” Vina plucked Moss, Motts’s turtle, out of his travel terrarium. “Well?” “No, I didn’t. There’s no box to check for asexual, biromantic autistic.” Motts gently took Moss to return her to a safer place. “No touching the turtle.” Author Bio
Dahlia Donovan wrote her first romance series after a crazy dream about shifters and damsels in distress. She prefers irreverent humour and unconventional characters. An autistic and occasional hermit, her life wouldn’t be complete without her husband and her massive collection of books and video games. Author Website: http://dahliadonovan.com/ Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/dahliadonovan Author Twitter: https://twitter.com/DahliaDonovan Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/dahliadonovanauthor/ Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8184061.Dahlia_Donovan Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/dahlia-donovan/ Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Dahlia-Donovan/e/B00KFNZFHU/
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