BJ Sikes has a new sapphic historical steampunk romance out: Her Runaway Lady. Solange doesn’t have time for love. She’s too busy working her way up in the Parisian millinery trade. Her goal: to become rich and lift her family out of poverty. So when a beautiful aristo whirls into the millinery fascinated by hat making, Solange isn’t interested. Or so she tells herself. Louise-Marie hates the fancy parties she’s dragged to at Versailles, hates the idea of marrying anyone, but loves hat-making. Running away from home to become a milliner seemed like a good idea but the life of a working-class shop girl is harder than she imagined. And her new coworker doesn’t seem to like her much. Thrown together in the cramped backroom of a millinery shop and a shared garret room, their tensions fray, tangle, then bind. But ambition doesn’t leave room for longing. And love was never part of Solange’s plan. When she exposes Louise-Marie’s secret in her pursuit of prosperity, will she lose everything? Series Sale! Immerse yourself in a reimagined Paris of the 1880s, a Belle Epoque That Never Was, the steampunk-flavoured world of the Roboticist of Versailles. All three books are on sale during the OWI tour for $.99 each - 75% off! You do not need to read the other two books before reading Her Runaway Lady. Get Her Runaway LadyGet The Archimedean Heart | Get The Vitruvian MaskExcerpt
The milliner's shop was full of customers, with their chatter and clouds of warring perfumes, but when the redhaired aristocrat stepped through the door, Solange couldn't take her eyes off her. She turned from the customer she was waiting on, lowering the order book to the counter. Sunlight haloed the young woman, lighting up the red-gold curls frizzed around her face. She was pale, a true redhead, with a dusting of light freckles across her cheeks. No shop girl or woman from around here could afford the high fashion she wore so she had to be rich. She evoked a perfect pure-white courtier from the old regime, even moving like the automatons of that court, stiff but graceful, as if trained from birth to be in complete control of her movements. Solange had rarely seen a woman so beautiful. She hated her instantly. Amelie sidled up to Solange, dodging the customers who milled about the counters. She pushed her dark curls off her face. "Grand, isn't she? Look at the fur trim on her gown. It must have cost a fortune." "What's that to me?" Solange scrunched her nose at Amelie and shrugged. She scrutinised the aristo's outfit. To be that fashionable, it was definitely expensive. From her beaver bonnet with the ostrich plumes to her wool overcoat to the cashmere suit below it. An older woman with the same pointed chin and cupid's bow mouth followed her in, her dress even more elaborately detailed. No doubt her mother. The shop wasn't in a fashionable part of Paris so a pair of rich aristocrats discovering Madame Poulet's was a bit of a mystery. As if she had heard Solange's thoughts, the girl turned to her mother with a restrained smile. "Maman, you see. I told you it was a milliner. Oh, it's charming in here." Her voice was light and almost breathy, as if she hesitated to speak aloud. Her mother's face remained placid, stuck in a polite mask. She nodded and gestured to Madame Poulet to approach. Solange's shoulders tightened. How dare she treat Madame like a common errand girl? Her customer's lapdog let out a series of high-pitched yaps. Solange winced at the noise. Or like a pet. She faced her waiting customer but could still see the aristocratic girl on the edge of her vision. The aristo drifted towards a counter against the side of the room. Madame approached, her expression pleasant, not betraying any offence from the aristocrat's behaviour. She greeted the aristocratic lady and her daughter, all smiles, her taffeta skirts rustling. "Bonjour, madame and mademoiselle. I am Madame Poulet. Welcome to my establishment. How may I assist you today?" Solange rolled her eyes. Amelie stifled a giggle and backed into the workroom. Probably to share the news with Jeanne and Suzanne that a pair of actual aristocrats were in their shop. The fluffy lapdog in her customer's arms yipped again, and Solange smiled an apology. The customer's mouth spread flat into an unforgiving line. Solange picked up the order book and scribbled the customer's instruction. The young aristo flipped through the rainbow of fabric swatches in the sample book then trailing a gloved finger along the hats on display, wandered closer to Solange. She stopped to peer at a round hat that Solange had been particularly proud of and Solange caught a hint of her perfume, a light floral scent. She drew a deep breath. The scent suited the redhead. The girl plucked the hat off the stand and turned it over, examining the interior. Solange’s fingers tightened around the pen she was using to write her customer's order. What was she doing with that round hat? Examining it for flaws so she could warn her mother from purchasing a hat here? She'd find nothing wrong with her hat, Solange was certain. I spent hours on that hat, every stitch and seam are perfect. Her customer cleared her throat, obviously losing patience, and Solange faced her with a muttered apology. They flipped through the swatches together, examining the colours and textures of the fabric choices. Solange fought for concentration. She was never like this. Someone bumped into her shoulder and she turned her head. The sight and sweet floral scent of the red haired aristo inches away filled her senses. Her body trembled and she let out a tiny gasp. The aristo's pale cheeks lit up with a fierce blush and she stammered an apology before backing away. Solange swallowed and murmured a non-committal response, struggling to regain her poise. The aristo moved away, not meeting Solange's eyes, her cheeks pink. The hat still perched on her delicate fingers. Despite her awkwardness, she'd managed not to drop it. The aristo turned towards Madame Poulet. "Madame Poulet, the workmanship on this round hat is exquisite. The stitching is almost invisible." Her soft voice quavered. She sat down on the squeaky chair in front of a mirror and raised the hat to her head. Madame Poulet stood behind her, her hands clasped to her ample bosom, beaming. "We do only superior work here, mademoiselle. I appreciate your eye for quality. Not many pay that close attention." Solange listened to her customer's final requests with only part of her mind. The rest of her was trying to hear what Madame and the aristo were saying over the chattering of the other customers. The aristo knew a lot about hat making, that was obvious from the way she had traced a finger along the seams, lingering on the tightly attached feathers. Solange shifted on her feet, unwilling to join the conversation but not wanting to go back to the work room yet. Watching the quiet excitement on the aristo's face fascinated her. Author Bio
BJ Sikes is a 5'6" ape descendant who is inordinately fond of a good strong cup of tea, Doc Marten boots, and fancy dress. I live with one large cat, two sweet teenagers, and one editor-author, plus an array of chickens in a place very unlike my homeland. My favorite thing to write is historical fantasy with themes of a woman’s struggle for agency and queer characters living their lives. After writing a dissertation on avocado root rot, I was drawn back to my first love, fiction. I have published several novels, novellas, and short stories in a variety of genres. Author Website: https://bjsikesauthor.com Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/bjsikesauthor.bsky.social Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/bjsikesauthor Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/bj_sikes_author/ Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/bjsikesauthor/ Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/bj-sikes 
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 Ian pressed the intercom button on his phone, “Yes?” “There’s a Kevin Shumay here to see you. He says he’s from,” he could hear his assistant, Jocelyn, asking, “What’s the company name?” “I know him. I’ll be right there,” Ian said. He sighed and stood up, grabbing his suit jacket and slipping it on as he walked to his office door. Stopping at the door, he took a deep breath, straightened his tie, and buttoned the jacket. Ian put a pleasant, neutral smile on his face and opened the door. “Good afternoon.” He looked around. “I was expecting more people.” “Yeah,” Kevin ambled into Ian’s office. “I was making a few stops not too far from here. Thought I’d pop in and see if you were free to show me around. I hope that’s okay?” “S-sure.” Kevin smiled, and Ian got the distinct impression that he enjoyed throwing Ian off balance. He stood with hands in his pants pockets, watching as Ian went to his desk, grabbing keys and a security card, pocketing those as he turned to face Kevin. Holding out one arm to the door, he said, “Let’s go. We’ll look at the hotel first, then I can show you one of the cabins. Unless your needs have changed?” “Nope. Still, the same as we discussed last week.” No matter how Ian tried to make sure they were walking together, Kevin managed to stay half a step behind. His skin crawled knowing Kevin was watching Ian’s every move. Ian silently recited this was his hotel and resort. He was in charge here. Dozens of people answered to him. He was the CEO, not a sub and Kevin was a client, not a Dom. Yet, Ian felt exposed and controlled. Another deep, steadying, breath, and Ian pushed the button to the elevator. When the door opened, he put one hand on it, holding it open, and nodded for Kevin to step inside. Kevin leaned on the opposite door and brushed one hand down Ian’s arm. “After you.” Ian almost controlled the shiver that worked down his spine. He stepped over the threshold and into the elevator, cursing himself for following Kevin’s order. By the time the elevator door opened, Ian had regained much of his composure. “That way,” he said and motioned Kevin to the right. “You first, I insist.” Kevin smirked and shrugged. “Whatever you say.” It was sexy and alluring and maddening and frightening all at once. A short hall led to the main part of the room. Ian opened the closets. “Plenty of room for two people to hang their clothes.” He moved beyond the hallway. “Bathroom is over here,” he said as he turned on the light. Kevin grabbed the door jamb and leaned into the bathroom, filling most of the doorway and blocking Ian from leaving at the same time. “This is very nice.” “Thank you,” Ian said softly. “We have handicapped-accessible rooms, of course, if you need them.” In order to leave the bathroom, Ian had to slip by Kevin, brushing against the man’s chest and feeling how his ribcage expanded in a quick breath. He gazed directly at Ian until Ian looked down at the floor. Ian inwardly swore at himself for dropping into sub mode for someone other than Taren, and at a totally inappropriate time. “The rooms come with a king or two queen-sized beds,” Ian said in a rush. “The sofa in the sitting area opens into a full-sized bed as well. There’re ample outlets for devices, and the nightstands have charging stations.” He turned in a circle, gestured to the television, dressers, the sitting area, and round table and chairs. Kevin walked around the room. “This is nice.” The compliment was genuine. “Thank you.” Ian smiled. “We did an update a few years ago. I’m incredibly pleased with how it all turned out. We have a restaurant and bar, open till ten every evening. Room service is available from 5 a.m. to 1 a.m. daily.” “Is that the same for the cabins?” Ian shook his head. The urge to put more distance between Kevin and he was almost overwhelming but stood his ground. “No. Cabin service stops at 9 p.m., but guests can order take-out from the restaurant while it’s open.” He walked to the door and held it open. “We can look at one of the cabins if you’d like.” “I would. I promised to check everything thoroughly.” Kevin’s gaze raked over Ian again as he sauntered into the hall. Feeling his neck flush, Ian fumbled with the card lock before saying, “We’ll take my car.” He set a brisk pace to his car. If Kevin was going to insist on walking behind, Ian decided he didn’t have to go at Kevin’s speed. Ian remembered to turn the seat heaters off when he started the car. Kevin glanced at Ian’s hand and raised his eyebrows. Ian shrugged. “Something Taren and I do. I figured you wouldn’t like it. And it’s our thing.” “Understood.” Kevin shrugged. “Might be fun to try sometime. You might remember I switch.” “I do.” Ian smiled. “Think we can get any of my guests to practice Locktober?” That made Ian laugh and relax. “Only if I can sit and watch you give that talk then clear it with HR.” “Deal,” Kevin said and chuckled. “Do you have a cabin I can look at?” “I do.” Ian parked the SUV in a common lot near the cabins. He motioned to one of the closer cabins. As they walked to the group of cabins, he relaxed and tried to remind himself Kevin had a playful side that was different from his and Taren’s. It was unlikely that Kevin meant any harm. Kevin could be a little pushy, but he’d never overstepped his bounds. “We can walk through this one.” He unlocked the door, letting it swing open. Kevin used one hand against the door to hold it open for Ian. “I can get a better view that way.” “Uh-huh.” Ian was careful not to get ahead of Kevin, but right now he seemed more interested in seeing the grounds and accommodations than Ian’s ass. Kevin checked the place thoroughly and wandered around the grounds surrounding the cabins, which Ian expected. Once they were finished, they returned to Ian’s office. Jocelyn wasn’t there, but she often had to leave the offices. Ian wished she hadn’t picked this instant to do so. “I’ll be in touch,” Kevin said and held out his hand to Ian. He hung onto Ian’s hand a bit too long with a grip too firm and used his foot to push the door to Ian’s office closed. Ian tried to jerk his hand free, but Kevin doubled down on his grip. “Not exactly respecting boundaries,” Ian ground out. Kevin responded by leaning in closer and planting his other palm firmly against the wall inches from Ian’s head. His eyes twinkled. He smiled. “You’re always too worried about proper boundaries.” He leaned closer to Ian and ran his other hand down Ian’s side. “What would you suppose Taren would think of us?” Ian yanked his hand free and shoved at Kevin, pushing him away. “Get off me! I’m a sub, not a doormat, and not your boy toy.” Kevin shoved back, forcing Ian against the wall, hand on Ian’s chest applying enough pressure to restrain Ian. He spoke in Ian’s ear, his voice low. “You sure weren’t arguing a few nights ago when I manhandled you, boy.” Kevin gave Ian’s chest a pat before he let go and took a few steps back. “Taren’s the only person who calls me that,” Ian spat. Kevin winked. “Hmm, we’ll see.” He sighed and opened the door. “Maybe I’ll look at other locations for my company.” Ian shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets so Kevin wouldn’t see them shake. “Go ahead. As you can see, we’re not hurting.” He had to concentrate on every word to keep from stammering. “Maybe that’ll change.” Kevin smirked and walked out of the room, nodding to Jocelyn coming back in, as he passed her in the door to the outer office.  Force Majeure is available in eBook, paperback, through Kindle Unlimited and your local library digital catalog.      Slight sounds and scents Forge wouldn’t normally notice in this situation assaulted him. He shifted his weight and sighed. No one else seemed to notice. It was annoying and distracting, and he made a mental note to discuss this with Blair. As soon as the elevator door opened, he felt a slight tingling along his spine. Checking the doors as he wandered the hall became unnecessary as the tingling increased. Blair’s office was, in fact, a group of three small offices with a common outer waiting area. Forge slipped into a chair and picked up a magazine. Blair’s door was open and he stood listening to some guy who, if Forge was getting the gist of the conversation, was upset about a grade he’d received for a class project. Forge arched an eyebrow and glanced over the top of his magazine every few seconds while he listened to the exchange. “You didn’t do the project as it was outlined. You failed,” Blair said. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “What I did was brilliant and creative and—” “And not the project you were assigned to complete,” Blair said. His tone was getting harsher. Forge flipped the pages of the magazine, but he wasn’t looking at it. “So, you’re saying, teaching assistant, that my work is brilliant, but you want ordinary?” Forge sort of hated this guy. “No, what I’m saying is sometimes you have to learn to complete the mundane tasks in order to advance to the more innovative ones. It’s called real life. Get used to it,” Blair said. “And, I’m a full professor now.” He wasn’t budging and that sent a warm wave of pride through Forge. To the casual observer, Blair might appear quiet, almost meek, a pushover who wasn’t aware of what was going on around him. Forge had mistakenly thought that at one time. Not anymore. “This is utter bullshit!” Forge gave up any pretext of reading and dropped the magazine to his knees. When he leaned forward and rested his chin against his hands folded together, Blair’s gaze flicked to him, and he shook his head the smallest bit. “It’s my class. I am responsible for creating the syllabus and grading the assignments. You didn’t complete the assigned work. Simple as that.” Blair punctuated his statement with a low growl it was obvious the guy couldn’t hear. “Maybe I should take this up with the department head.” This had gone on long enough. Forge slapped the magazine back into place on the table, stood up, and cleared his throat. The student—and Blair—ignored him. Though from the emotions Blair emitted and his stance, Forge could tell he was concentrating on not rolling his eyes. Blair could roll his eyes like no one else. “You go right ahead,” Blair said. “Make sure you get my name right. It’s Doctor Turner. I completed my course work and earned my degrees. Degrees, plural.” Forge crossed the room and announced, “I believe Dr. Turner and I have an appointment.” He tapped his watch for emphasis. The guy turned and poked Forge’s chest. “I’m not done here, buddy.” Forge put his hands on his hips, pulling back his jacket as he did so. “Hmm.” Blair sucked in a breath only Forge could hear, and he recognized it as that giggle/snicker sort of thing Blair did. The guy looked briefly at the badge and gun now in plain view. He blew out a disgusted breath and gave Forge another poke, saying, “I said I need a few minutes here. This is my life I’m discussing. That’s not a crime.” Forge looked down at the finger against his chest. Blair’s stance relaxed. He turned partially away, clearly trying to conceal the smile threatening to break out and scratched the back of his head. Using his best throaty vampire voice, Forge spoke slowly, enunciating each word. “And I said I have an appointment.” With another tap on his watch, he dropped his fangs a bit and let his eyes change to a solid blue. “Now.” The young man’s eyes grew wide. He stumbled away from Blair and Forge, tripping over a trash can in the process. “What the hell?” Forge twisted around and pursued him. “Here, let me help you.” He took the man’s arm, ushering him along a bit faster. His voice and appearance were normal again. “I… this….” The student hurried into the hall. Blair called after him and pointed. “The department head is down the hall, third door on the right. Big sign that says Department Head.” In the next instant, he put his hand against Forge’s chest. “You can’t do that.” “What?” Forge slipped one arm around Blair’s waist. “No one saw me change or move that fast.” He tugged Blair closer and walked them backward into the office, kicking the door shut behind him. “Though, my badass act works much better without you giggling in the background.” “You can’t—” Blair sucked in a breath and his voice cracked when Forge ran his other hand up Blair’s spine, bent his head and licked Blair’s neck. “—intimidate everyone—” His speech faltered as Forge’s tongue slithered slowly over Blair’s ear. “—who…. Stop! I only have forty-five minutes for lunch, and I’m hungry.” “So am I.” Forge used his fangs to lightly bite the tender flesh under Blair’s jaw. He was rewarded with the reaction he hoped for. Blair moaned and leaned more heavily against him, hips stuttering forward. “We’re men. Forty-five minutes is plenty of time to eat and get a quickie.” Blair squirmed and Forge let his grip be broken. “Be nice to the students, and I’m serious. We can’t do this…that…here.” Forge sighed and leaned to the side to open the door. “It’s my sworn duty as your soulmate to protect you and defend you. That’s rule number one of the vampire code.” Blair let the eye roll loose. It was probably painful to contain it for so long. “There is no vampire code, and I don’t need defending. I was taking care of myself years before I met you and your—” He paused, raised his eyebrows, grinned wickedly, and poked Forge’s chest. “--badge.” Forge waved out the door and stepped to the side so Blair could exit the small office. He stopped and waited for Blair to lock up, then walked beside him to the elevator. “You know what’s going on here, right?” “Five weeks until the anniversary of my dad’s funeral, which means—” “Five weeks and a day until the anniversary of when you were changed. You’ll be contagious,” Forge finished for him and pushed the down button. Blair nodded. “You’re only going to get more intense and worse, aren’t you?” “But that’s why you love me.” Forge let Blair enter the elevator first. They were alone. “For my badge and all.” “Declan is right, you and Lucas spend far too much time together. You’re both incorrigible.” Forge chuckled, and Blair gifted him with another eye roll as they took up their places in the cafeteria line. He put his most charming smile on his face when a girl picked up a tray and joined the line right behind them. “Hello.” Minor irritation skimmed the surface of Blair’s emotions, and Forge felt it prickle his senses. The girl cocked her head and flipped her hair. “Are you new here?” she asked and brushed her hand over Forge’s. Her gaze raked up and down his body. “I’m visiting.” They moved along the line, and he picked up a few dishes. “She’s a student,” Blair whispered. Forge leaned closer to Blair, dropped his voice an octave, and said, “I don’t work here.” He was using what Lucas liked to refer to as “Forge’s fuck me” voice. “Oh,” the girl said. “Even better.” She inched close enough to rub her arm against his. Forge basked in the tidal wave of heat, desire, and jealousy that swirled away from Blair to surround him. Blair grabbed one of the dishes from Forge’s tray and put it back. “Don’t eat the mystery green stuff—it’s not broccoli.” He leaned around Forge, forcing him back a step, and spoke to the girl. “You’re barking up a very wrong tree. He’s gay. He’s mine. And it’s spectacular.” The girl stared at Blair for a few seconds before taking her tray and storming away. Forge shrugged and picked up his tray. “Good luck with school.” “Table,” Blair growled and pointed out the direction. “Over there.” Trailing behind him, Forge feigned innocence. “I distinctly remember you telling me to be nice to the students.” Blair dropped his tray onto a table. “Yeah, be nice. Not use that tone and your—badge—in a way that makes them want to undress and fling themselves at your feet.” “You love me for it.” Forge sat down and surveyed his food. “We could go to the new pizza place.” Blair’s chin dropped to his chest for a second. When he looked up, his eyes twinkled and he smiled. “You are a very lucky man. I don’t have time to go for pizza. It may be orgasm inducing, but they’re slow. Dinner there? Just you and me?” “Oh, now you want a date.” Forge returned the mischievous and warm smile Blair wore. “And some of this spectacular stuff.” He waved one hand down his chest and laughed when Blair kicked him under the table. The school food was possibly some of the worst Forge had ever eaten, and after two-hundred-odd years, he’d consumed a lot of food. However, he decided this had to be a regular thing. He liked meeting Blair for lunch and seeing a side to him Forge hadn’t known was there. Being Blair’s soulmate ensured their lifelong desire and commitment. It was the day-to-day liking and getting to know each other they needed to work on. Their meal finished, Forge walked Blair back to his office. Blair unlocked the door, and at the same time, Forge was doused in another wave of lust and something he could only describe as partnership. Most vampires experienced this sort of bond and empathy for one another during their initial mating. He’d understood the ability to feel each other so strongly diminished after one of them was marked. For them it seemed to increase. This was all new territory for him, and he was discovering how much he liked it, wanted it, and looked forward to it. Forge was indeed a very lucky man. Blair used his hand on Forge’s chest to shove him through the door. He shut it behind them softly. One of Blair’s hands cupped the back of Forge’s neck, and Blair pulled them together, kissing Forge slowly, then slipping his tongue into Forge’s mouth, his fangs nipping his lip. Blair wasn’t usually the aggressor, and Forge adored it when he was. He put one hand on Blair’s ass and held him close, kneading the firm flesh of Blair’s buttock slowly. All too soon Blair broke their kiss. They leaned against each other, panting. Blair trembled. “I have a late class,” Blair whispered. “Will seven be okay?” Forge pulled in a deep breath, kissed Blair’s forehead, and nodded. “I’ll be there.” One more sweet kiss to Blair’s lips and Forge added, “I’ll call you later.” He dipped his head at the door and at the same time cupped Blair’s face, running his thumb lightly over his cheek. “Keep them in line. I’d better get back to work.” “Bye,” Blair said quietly, and Forge thought he sounded a bit wistful. “Keep the streets safe.”  Shifting Chaos is available in eBook, paperback and through Kindle Unlimited.    NEW RELEASE 
Book Title: Around and Around We Go Author and Publisher: Amy Aislin Cover Artist: L.C. Chase Release Date: April 28, 2026 Tense/POV: third person, past tense, alternating POVs Genres: MM Contemporary Hockey Romance Tropes: Second chance romance, forced proximity, found family, slow burn Heat Rating: 3 flames Length: 70,000 words / 230 pages It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger Buy Links Buy direct to get the bonus scene included Ebook | Audio | Ebook/audiobook bundle 
When you’re facing The End, it’s time to rewind to the beginning. Blurb At thirty-eight years old, Sandro Zanetti is quickly aging out of hockey. But the Trailblazers are chasing a history-making third consecutive championship this season, so until his knees fail him, he plans on giving his all to the sport. What he doesn’t need is the documentary film crew following the team’s every move. Because the director? Is Bennett Jackson. Former college sweetheart. But their relationship is also history and has been for fifteen years. Bennett Jackson is one project away from the credits rolling on his career after his last film flopped. This behind-the-scenes look at the hottest team in the league is his last chance at redemption…and possibly his last chance at redeeming himself with the one man who’s always held his heart. Neither of them planned for old jokes to resurface or on the inconvenient fact that their chemistry is very much alive. But as the action heats up on and off the ice—and on and off camera—their reunion looks less like a rerun of heartbreak and more like a revival of that first chemistry. And Sandro and Bennett may discover that some stories deserve a sequel. Excerpt “Got an umbrella?” Sandro asked. “No. And if I did, I wouldn’t give it to you. What if I need it?” “Asshole,” Sandro replied, laughing. “Give me your jacket at least. Yours has a hood.” Bennett stared at him for a long moment. “No.” “Man. Chivalry is dead, I tell you.” “Here. I’ll get a little closer to your front door.” He eased the car forward a few inches, then put it in park. He jerked a thumb at his own chest. “Chivalrous.” Sandro snorted a laugh and took off his jacket, ready to use it as a stand-in umbrella. “See ya. Thanks for the lift home, even if you won’t walk a boy to his door.” There was more he wanted to say, but he couldn’t figure out where to start. Go back to LA? Never leave again? Why are you really here? But he needed time to get his thoughts in order, so he splashed out into the downpour. To his surprise, Bennett met him on the sidewalk and, using his own jacket, held it over the both of them as they jogged up to the covered porch. “You didn’t . . .” The words got stuck in Sandro’s throat as Bennett shook the rain off his jacket. Strands of blond hair had escaped his bun and hung loose around his face, beginning to go frizzy from the moisture in the air. Sandro curled his hands into fists in the material of his jacket, hanging wetly in front of him, to stop himself from reaching out and tucking one behind Bennett’s ear. “You didn’t have to do that.” “Tell me again how chivalry is dead?” A laugh escaped him again, and his gaze snagged on Bennett’s. There’d been times those eyes had squinted in annoyance or flashed with anger or heated in desire. Right now, as Bennett slowly lost his smile, they were none of those things. Just vulnerable in their desperation. Sandro’s chest squeezed tight, and with a sudden clarity, he knew he didn’t want to hear whatever Bennett wanted to tell him. “Sandy—” “Don’t. I don’t want to hear it.” “San—” “No.” Heart pounding, Sandro took a step back. “It’s ancient history. It doesn’t matter anymore. We need to move forward, not back.” That vulnerable desperation turned to naked hope that broke something in Sandro. Bennett swallowed audibly and said, “As friends?” Obviously not, Sandro meant to say. There’s too much history between us. But what came out was, “Maybe.” “Maybe,” Bennett repeated with a nod. “I can live with maybe.” He shrugged his jacket back on and looked out across the yard to his car at the curb. “Got an umbrella?” Amusement crawled up the back of Sandro’s throat. “Fuck no.” He went inside and closed the door on Bennett’s booming laugh. About the Author Amy’s lived with her head in the clouds since she first picked up a book as a child, and being fluent in two languages means she’s read a lot of books! She first picked up a pen on a rainy day in fourth grade when her class had to stay inside for recess. Tales of treasure hunts with her classmates eventually morphed into love stories between men, and she’s been writing ever since. She writes evenings and weekends—or whenever she isn’t at her full-time day job saving the planet at Canada’s largest environmental non-profit. An unapologetic introvert, Amy reads too much and socializes too little, with no regrets. She loves connecting with readers. Join her Facebook Group to stay up-to-date on upcoming releases and for access to early teasers, find her on Instagram, or sign up for her infrequent newsletter. Social Media Links Blog/Website | Facebook | Instagram Newsletter Sign-up | Facebook Group 
NEW RELEASE 
Book Title: Wine Quest Author: Dann Hazel Publisher: The Original Press, LLC Cover Artist: Dann Hazel and Josh Fippen Release Date: April 27, 2026 Tense/POV: third person, past tense, single POV Genres: Contemporary MM Romance Tropes: Opposites attract, small town romance, forced proximity Themes: Forgiveness, found family, living authentically Length: 40 000 words/152 pages Heat Rating: 3 flames It’s part of a series (Short Orders Gay Romance Series), but it can be enjoyed as a standalone. It does not end on a cliffhanger. Buy Links Kobo | B&N | Smashwords 
Pour the wine. Take the risk. Fall in love. Blurb A wounded electrician.
If you enjoy heartfelt LGBTQ romance with heat, humor, and deeply emotional connections, Wine Quest belongs on your reading list. Excerpt George had been a cracker jack electrician for the past ten years. Today, he was a man obsessed. Not with his job, which he liked well enough. But really? A job is just a job, and having one is highly overrated. Not with his new life in Virginia, though he liked the change of climate compared to the sultry New Orleans. (He was even looking forward to experiencing his first snowfall.) Not even with the friendly people he’d met so far in the Roanoke area. No, his current common-sense obsession was centered on Ryan Ryval. Not only did George adore gingers, but this particular one was perhaps the most handsome red-haired man he’d ever seen. And those exotic green eyes! They pierced him to his core each time Ryan made eye contact with George during their short conversation at Wine Quest. After today’s service calls, the weekend would be upon him. Which meant that George would be spending part of his day on Sunday with the object of his sexual fantasies. He’d been having a lot of those over the past several days. The man he satisfied in his imagination—and satisfied him—was always Ryan. He fantasized over what Ryan’s unclothed body must look like. Was his full torso hairy, as George suspected? Was his back hirsute as well? Was he circumcised or not? And if he wasn’t, would he find George’s circumcised penis a turn-off? Did he have shapely legs, or were they too skinny and disappointingly shapeless? What about his feet? Were they attractive? Because George would never deny that he had something of a foot fetish. What kinds of things did Ryan like to do in bed? Was he a top, bottom, vers, or a side? Or, perhaps, none of these things? What experiences in his life catalyzed Ryan’s interest in producing wine? Was he originally from Virginia? Did he share any interests with George? What did he like to do for fun? Where did he like to travel, and what music, what books did he enjoy? Those questions were important to George, who knew that even a hot man who shared nothing in common would ultimately grow bored and lose interest. But most of all—because this question spoke most to a man’s integrity, his morals, his character—he wondered what challenges had been placed before Ryan, and how he’d coped with them. As he drove his Slate toward Valleyview Electric, George’s thoughts turned toward his former life. He adored New Orleans. Its decadent beauty. Its quirky charm. Its live-and-let-live vibe. He’d never deny the strengths of that city. But he could never return to the Big Easy. To visit, yes. To live? Hell no. He had his parents to blame for that. But it wasn’t something they did. Instead, it was a tragedy brought upon them by a culprit who was never apprehended. Something completely out of their control. Something from which George would never fully recover. About the Author Dann writes gay romance novels along with other queer-themed works. He especially enjoys writing about men who, while dealing with trauma or other challenges, find themselves falling in love despite themselves. He also feels it's important to include allies who often provide good advice to their gay friends in a troublesome relationship. When not writing, Dann enjoys running, reading in many genres, watching high quality movies and television series, and snuggling with his adorable American Eskimo dog, appropriately named Flurry. He loves showtunes (of course), golden oldies, classical music, and disco divas. Currently, Dann and his husband, Josh, reside in the Roanoke, VA area. Social Media Links 
 My snippet this week is from Home Coming, book 1 of Pain and Pleasure.  Ian tried not to squirm against the almost too warm leather of his car seat. Taren, his husband and Master of five years, dictated the seats, and by extension Ian’s ass, always be kept warm. As far as Ian was concerned Taren was a superb Dom, and it was Ian’s opinion that mattered. Ian immensely enjoyed a certain brand of warming lube Taren purchased for special occasions. When Ian bought this car, complete with heated, leather seats, Taren came up with the idea to keep Ian’s rear constantly warm. Another sign to Ian that Taren was the perfect Dom for him. Find more snippets in the Rainbow Snippets Facebook group! Home Coming is available in eBook and through Kindle Unlimited.    The muscles in Declan’s arm tensed, and Blair thought he heard ribs cracking. “It would be a shame if one of your lungs were punctured. Air in your chest cavity is an atrocious feeling.” Declan moved so he was speaking into the man’s other ear. “If you’re going to continue in this line of work, you really should learn more about human anatomy.” He shrugged. “A little tip.” He relaxed his grip on the man’s chest. “Now, answer my questions.” “I-I w-was only supposed to verify the Wi-Fi was out in the building and a private network would still be operational.” “Who was screwing with the traffic signals?” Blair asked. When the man glared and kept silent, refusing to answer Blair’s question, Declan must have pressed harder into the guy’s neck with his thumb because he spit out a funny hiccup sort of sound. “Answer him,” Declan snarled. “My job was to come here and meet up with another man. I only had one name, Black. He was testing things here, and I tested the lights.” Declan met Blair’s gaze as if he was waiting for Blair to ask another question. Instead Blair shivered and rubbed his eyes. His vision wavered for a few seconds, and then the sound of Declan’s heartrate changing made him concentrate harder. “Test for what?” Declan asked and raised his eyebrows. Blair nodded once, confirming that was a good choice of questions. The man shook his head, and Declan tightened the grip around his chest. The guy’s heart rate shot up as he struggled to suck in a breath, squeezing his eyes shut as if to deny the reality of what was happening to him. “I don’t know. I’m telling the truth. That’s all I know.” The man pushed the words out with an obvious effort, and his voice had a breathless quality to it. “Black told me what part of this building to avoid and to meet him in a bar, Hooley’s, a few blocks from here, by midnight.” His voice cracked and he uttered a wet, sobbing sort of sound. “Please. That’s all I know.” Declan sucked in air and sighed it out slowly. He tensed and shifted his weight again. “No, no… I told you everything!” The guy was crying, and the more he struggled, the less he could move. Declan dipped his head and bit down on the man’s shoulder, inciting even more screaming and begging. In a movement so fast only Blair could see it, Declan let go of the man long enough to spin him around. One quick step to the side, then back, and Declan cranked back his arm and punched the man in the head. Blair winced as the guy dropped like a stone, out cold. Shaking his head Declan pulled the denim jacket and hoodie off the guy. “Your reaction was almost embarrassing,” he said to the unconscious man. Next, he removed the button-down shirt the man wore, leaving his undershirt alone. Declan used his fangs to shred the lightweight cotton shirt. The action made Blair smile. Forge used his fangs to open beer bottles and packages all the time. This was the first time he’d seen Declan do such a thing. Using the strips of material, Declan tied the man and gagged him, then scooped him up and carried him farther away, leaving him where they could still keep an eye on him. Declan rifled through the jacket’s and hoodie’s pockets, then tossed the hoodie to Blair. “Put that on. You need to stay warm.” “Get his electronics,” Blair said. Nodding, Declan checked the man’s pockets, extracting a phone and wallet from his back pants pockets. He pulled a face and grumbled, then went through the man’s front pockets. “Just the phone.” “Look in his ears, and take his watch and any jewelry.” Blair managed a small laugh when Declan grimaced further. “Please, man. You and Forge love telling your Civil War story about you with your hand down the unconscious Reb officer’s pants, looking for maps or plans or something.” Declan arched an eyebrow and pulled the man’s belt, watch, and a ring off. He stopped, huffed a breath, and shrugged. “Jonas likes to tell that story, and he also likes to exaggerate in the name of spinning a good yarn.” Declan knelt and stuck his finger into the man’s left ear, shook his head, and then repeated the action in his right ear. He held up a small earpiece. “Happy now? Or do I have to execute a full cavity search?” “Tha shun be necasry.” Blair tried to control his voice, but his words slurred. Declan straightened and put the items he held into his pants pocket. He walked back to Blair and bent to retrieve the denim jacket and his own suit jacket from where he’d left them. After folding the denim jacket into a thick pad, Declan wedged it between Blair and the chunk of wall behind him. He took his suit jacket and wrapped it around Blair before he settled on the ground beside Blair and scooted as close as he could. Putting his arm around Blair’s shoulders, Declan said softly, “I know how much it hurts.” He patted Blair’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine, eventually, and this will all be a bad memory. I promise.” Blair leaned his head back against the makeshift pillow and closed his eyes. “You can get out.” “There is still at least one other man around here. You’re defenseless like this.” Declan jostled Blair gently. “You need to stay awake so Jonas can feel you and find us.” Blair inhaled slowly and opened his eyes. He and Forge shared such a strong empathic bond, it was possible for each to use it almost as a tracker. All mated vampires could sense their other halves to some degree. However, Blair and Forge were particularly blessed. Or cursed. Blair chuckled at his own inner joke, but it morphed almost immediately into a stifled sob and whimper. “He’s scared, Declan. Forge is never scared. Worse, he feels helpless.” Blair’s own emotions careened out of control. “I don’t want to die.”  Quarry is available in eBook, paperback, through Kindle Unlimited and library digital catalogs.     Mason got to his knees and looked around. Riece was sprawled on his back less than a foot away. None of his limbs were at odd angles, and Mason saw no large pools of blood. So far a number of pluses, and the only minus was the fact that they seemed to have dropped into some sort of pit. Reaching out he took hold of Riece’s arm. Before he could say or do anything else, Riece jerked upright and gasped. He twisted in one direction, then the other, so fast Mason couldn’t stop him. Riece’s eyes were wide, and Mason wasn’t sure he was processing what had happened. “Whoa, whoa, Riece. Sit still.” Mason scooted closer and grabbed ahold of both of Riece’s arms. Riece turned and stared at him, holding his breath. “Calm down. Take a few deep breaths and wiggle your toes for me.” “What?” “I need to know you don’t have a spinal injury. Now wiggle your fucking toes.” Mason used the firmest voice he could without snapping the words out. Riece’s eyes got wider. He looked at his feet, bent his knees, moved each foot, then whispered, “My toes move okay.” “Hold your arms above your head and then turn them in a circle,” Mason ordered, using a more gentle tone. He recognized immediately he’d have to keep Riece focused, otherwise he’d have too many thoughts to process at once. Giving Riece orders in a clear and logical sequence was the way Mason could keep him calm. Riece immediately did as told without ever taking his eyes off Mason’s. “They move okay.” “Turn around. Let me see if you’re cut or bleeding anywhere.” Mason used one hand to nudge Riece to one side, then the other. “Feel any bruising?” “My back maybe a little.” Mason turned Riece to face him and used two fingers to ease his shirt up. He breathed a huge sigh of relief when Riece’s skin tone was normal. “We’ll want to check each other for bruising, especially abdominal, which could mean internal bleeding,” Mason explained. Riece’s eyes widened more, and Mason thought they would pop straight out of their sockets like some bizarre cartoon character’s. “Do a sit-up for me.” Again Riece complied. “Feels fine. Like a sit-up. I don’t like doing sit-ups.” “I needed just the one,” Mason said and chuckled. “Now, you look me over—back, neck, head—for open wounds.” He turned around and smiled when he felt Riece’s fingertips start at the base of his skull and brush lightly down to his belt. “You should wiggle your toes and pull up your shirt,” Riece said softly. Mason mimicked Riece’s actions and bent his knees, turned his feet in a small circle, and told him, “My toes wiggle too.” He stood up and offered Riece his hand, pulling him to his feet. Then Mason lifted his shirt. “Anything.” “Lots.” Riece took a deep breath and smirked. “But it’s all supposed to be there.” He looked up at Mason. The few seconds of normal, relaxed behavior vanished, and Riece’s face crumpled. He took two steps forward, slipped both arms around Mason’s waist, and pressed against him, shuddering. “My fault. I’m sorry. This is my fault.” “Hey, hey, shh.” Mason held Riece close with one arm and used his other hand to cup the back of Riece’s head. He glanced up at the opening they’d dropped through. “It’s okay. Nothing is your fault, and it’s only ten or twelve feet to the top. Not that bad. We’ll get out. I’ll get you out. Don’t worry.” He spent a few minutes simply holding Riece. To Mason this was a minor setback. To Riece it was a disaster of epic proportions. He didn’t step back from Riece until he felt the tremors running through Riece lessen. “How will we get out?” Riece looked around while wiping one hand over his face. “I didn’t think or realize what I’d stepped on.” “Don’t worry about it.” Mason looked down at his belt and reached for his radio. “You’re fine, I’m fine, we’ll call for….” He put his hand where his radio should have been clipped to his belt. Riece’s gaze followed his. They both turned in a circle looking around the small area they’d landed in. Silently Riece bent and picked up the radio in two hands. “It must have caught on the wood,” he said. Mason’s radio had been dislodged from his belt when they fell through the wooden covering over the pit. It had landed squarely under Riece, probably accounting for the slight bruising he felt along his back. Right now it was in pieces. “Still not a disaster. Once we’re up top, we can hike to where we’ll be in the open, get a cell signal, or use your locator beacon.” Mason looked up as he spoke. Lengthy pieces of wood planking covered with vines and long grass partially obscured the view of the sky above. Since they had been down in a gully to begin with, much of the rest of the sky was blocked by trees. “This would be a lot worse if one of us were hurt and couldn’t walk. See if you can find the batteries.” “Still think there aren’t any poachers?” Riece asked. He leaned down and squinted at the dirt while Mason paced around, shuffling the toe of his boot along the ground. Gone Away is available in eBook, paperback, through Kindle Unlimited and library digital catalog.     I thoroughly enjoyed reading the story of these two men. I admit, I was sad to see the story come to an end.
Wally and Jonathan were college sweethearts. The thing that pulled them apart in college was the same thing that pushed them back together a decade later, their career paths. There was no huge crisis during their college years, they simply realized to get what they wanted out of life they had to concentrate on careers first. That meant going separate ways. Then those careers shoved them together again. They’re more mature, more able to handle the pressure of life and career demands. The entire story is told through Wally’s eyes and we see how determined he and Jonathan are to make their second chance at their love work. I think what impressed me the most about this story was no matter the pressure exerted on them from outside forces they didn’t lose sight of what they wanted for themselves and between themselves. They stand together when the world makes their relationship difficult to maintain. There were opportunities for them to lash out at one another, but they moved through those times. Their relationship was a wonderful example of overcoming odds by people keeping their heads and finding workable solutions. The story takes place in the world of Formula 1 auto racing. I’ve watched races, and enjoyed them, but I don’t know anything about the technicalities of the sport, learning what goes on behind the scenes added a wonderful layer to this story. It was fun seeing it from an insider point of view. I highly recommend this story. There is sporting action, tension and a happy, fought for and hard won, ever after romance! **a copy of this book was provided by the author for a fair and unbiassed review** BLOG TOUR 
Book Title: Driven Together Author and Cover Artist: Neil S. Plakcy Publisher: Samwise Books Release Date: February 23, 2026 Tense/POV: First person/past tense Genres: Contemporary MM Sports Romance Tropes: Slow burn Themes: Second chance at love, coming out Heat Rating: 3 out of 5 flames Length: 81 000 words/301 pages It is a standalone book and does not end on a cliffhanger. Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited and Paperback 
They were each other’s first love—and the one that got away. Blurb When journalist Wally Pulaski reunites with his college sweetheart Jonathan Hirsch, now a Formula 1 driver, old feelings ignite with dangerous speed. Jonathan is fighting for the championship of his life. Wally is assigned to cover the season, reporting every triumph and failure to a global audience that demands objectivity. Falling in love again could cost them everything they’ve built. As the Formula 1 circus sweeps from Monaco’s glittering streets to historic European circuits and roaring modern tracks, Wally is pulled deeper into a world of precision engineering, split-second decisions, and relentless scrutiny. Behind the glamour lies a sport where careers are made and broken in fractions of a second, where every personal choice is magnified under the spotlight. Balancing professional integrity with unresolved passion becomes a high-wire act. Media pressure mounts. Rivalries intensify. And the closer Jonathan comes to his dream, the harder it is for either man to pretend their hearts aren’t still in the race. Driven Together is a second-chance MM romance set against the adrenaline and international spectacle of Formula 1. Combining the emotional depth of Tal Bauer and the sports-romance energy loved by readers of Rachel Reid, it delivers an intimate story of ambition, identity, and the courage to choose love in a world that never slows down. As the season intensifies and the spotlight grows harsher, Wally and Jonathan must decide what they’re willing to risk for a second chance at the love they never forgot. Because in Formula 1, every fraction of a second matters—and so does every choice of the heart. Ten years after losing each other, they have one chance to get it right—and this time, the stakes are higher than ever Excerpt I looked at him, really looked. Jonathan Hirsch, Monaco Grand Prix finalist, sitting in a dive bar in Monte Carlo at midnight, asking me to take a chance on something that might be wonderful or might be a complete disaster. “Okay,” I said. “Okay?” “Okay, let’s see where this goes. Barcelona to Spa, five races to figure out if we’re brave enough to make this work.” Jonathan’s smile was radiant. “That’s all I’m asking for.” He kissed me across the small table, soft and sweet and tasting like beer and possibility. Around us, the bar continued its late-night rhythm, oblivious to the fact that a Formula 1 driver and a motorsports journalist had just decided to rewrite their carefully planned lives. When we broke apart, Jonathan was grinning. “What?” I asked. “I was just thinking,” he said. “Once, we were too practical to try long distance. Now we’re going to try dating while you cover my races. We’ve either gotten much braver or much stupider.” “Probably both,” I admitted. “But you know what? I’m okay with that.” We finished our beers and walked back toward the harbor, where the parties still buzzed. Jonathan tugged me toward the paddock. Behind the glitter, the Monaco Grand Prix was already vanishing, piece by piece. Crews swarmed over the cars with military precision, wiping them down, draining fluids, and sliding them into padded crates as if they were Fabergé eggs instead of machines built for speed. The air still vibrated with leftover adrenaline. The sharp tang of fuel, the sweet stink of rubber ground into the asphalt, the faint bite of hot brakes cooling in the night mixed with the briny breeze from the harbor, a perfume of glamour and grit all at once. Everywhere I turned, there was motion and sound: the staccato crack of impact wrenches, the slap of gloves on metal, the hollow thud of crates sealing shut. Cables coiled like sleeping snakes at the workers’ feet as garage walls folded into flat panels and tool chests slammed closed, the paddock dissolving from carnival into pure efficiency. I couldn’t look away. One moment it had been champagne and music and color; now it was stripped to bare bones. Somehow that made it even more impressive. The glamour was temporary, but the precision and the discipline was permanent. I breathed it in, dizzy with the noise and smells and sheer scale of it all. My first Grand Prix was ending, but even in its aftermath I felt the pulse of something bigger than myself, alive and relentless. “By morning, you won’t even know we were here,” Jonathan said beside me in his Meridian jacket. “Barcelona’s only a few hundred miles. The trucks will drive overnight, and the setup crew will already be waiting.” I nodded, picturing cars cocooned in trailers, engineers and mechanics scattering onto buses and budget flights while Jonathan and his teammates slipped onto a private jet with their race engineers. The Monaco Grand Prix was over, but the season stretched ahead. Twenty-two more races, five more chances to figure out if second chances were worth the risk. About the Author Neil S. Plakcy is an award-winning author of sexy, fast-paced MM romances including The Big Race, about which Joyfully Jay wrote “A truly enjoyable read.” He also writes the Ormond Yard series of Victorian MM romances, and the Love on series of sun-kissed South Beach romps. His website is www.mahubooks.com. Author Links Facebook | Pinterest | Twitter | Instagram | Linkedin Substack | Threads | Tiktok | YouTube 
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