Omega Required by Dessa Lux - Book Blast

Book Title: Omega Required

Author: Dessa Lux

Publisher: Self Published

Cover Artist: Morgan Wilcox

Genre/s: M/M Paranormal/Werewolf Romance (no mpreg onscreen)

Length: 136,000 words/430 pages

Release Date: April 4, 2018

Blurb

An alpha werewolf chasing his dream meets an omega fighting for his life in a strictly temporary marriage of convenience...

Alpha werewolf Beau Jeffries has been going it alone ever since he was cast out of his pack as a teenager for trying to help a human and endangering the pack’s secrets during the tumultuous years when the wider world was learning the truth about werewolves. He hasn’t lost his drive to help others, and he’s about to begin a prestigious medical residency--only to learn that, as the first werewolf the program has knowingly accepted, he’ll have to follow special rules, including the one that requires him to be married when he begins his residency.

Omega werewolf Roland Lea is just trying to survive. After escaping the last and worst in a string of abusive relationships that left him scarred and unable to conceive, he’s found safety in a refuge for homeless omegas. But despite the help he’s getting at the refuge, he just keeps getting sicker instead of better, further and further from being able to make it on his own. When he’s offered the opportunity to sign up with a mate-matching agency, he figures he has nothing to lose. No alpha is ever going to want an omega like him.

When Beau sees Roland's profile, he knows at once what's making the omega sick, and he's determined to help. If he can persuade Roland to marry him, he can save Roland's life while Roland helps him get through his residency. But will their hasty partnership be enough to bring them both through what's ahead--and can temporary necessity lead to a forever love?

 

Excerpt

He did sleep a little, or at least his thoughts drifted into quiet blankness for a while. He came back to himself when the car’s front doors closed, leaving only him and Beau inside. Roland opened his eyes to find Beau’s face closer than he expected.

Close enough to kiss.

His breath caught, and he felt that dangerous little thrill of anticipation, when he should have known better, should have been far past wanting anything like that ever again.

Beau just smiled. “Ready for our wedding day?”

Roland looked toward the window, and beyond it, the uninformative front of the refuge. “They didn’t... plansomething, did they? It’s not gonna be, like...”

A tumble of images played through his head, mostly human weddings he’d seen on TV and in movies, elaborate and protracted events that always involved someone being terribly humiliated or disappointed or otherwise reduced to tears.

“I think they know you well enough to know you won’t want anything huge and exhausting,” Beau said quietly. “I suspect there’s going to be cake, though. You think you might be able to eat a little cake?”

Roland bit his lip, and his stomach squirmed uneasily. “Do you have any more of those ginger candies?”

Beau smiled and brought one out of his pocket, unwrapping it before holding the candy to Roland’s lips. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth for it, and the first sharp bite of the ginger made his mouth water alarmingly and his eyes sting. Beau stayed steady at his side, keeping one arm around him all the time, and after another moment Roland said, “I guess we have to get out of the car eventually.”

“Not really where I’d pictured us living for the next few years,” Beau agreed, but he didn’t make any move to get Roland out of the car until Roland picked his head up and twisted toward the door.

When they got inside there wascake, and Susan and Ms. Dawson and Dr. Hanek who ran the refuge and was, as it turned out, both a registered officiant for weddings and a notary public. He had Beau and Roland sign the pre-nup first, getting it notarized and witnessed across several copies.

Which meant Roland had to write his name when he couldn’t read it.

“It’s okay, take your time,” Beau murmured, and laid his finger down on the page. “Right along there. Right above my finger. When you’re ready.”

Roland took a few breaths, trying to make his fingers fit comfortably around the pen, to remember the motions of signing his name. He couldn’t remember when he’d ever done it that meant anything, but it couldn’t be that hard. He’d learned cursive in school. He knew how to write his own name, and that was all it was, really. His own name, in cursive, saying that he agreed to be married to Beau with all these conditions.

He squinted at it when he was done; it looked a little crooked and wobbly, but that seemed to be his name. Roland Lea. He’d done it.

And then he had to do it three more times.

“I’ll put one of these on file here,” Dr. Hanek explained, “and send one to the state Omega Rights Initiative. They hold a lot of these types of documents, just to be on the safe side.”

“Of course,” Beau said easily. “And Roland will have his own copy to keep as well.”

One was duly put into an envelope for him, and Roland held it, along with his birth certificate, while they did the rest of the wedding formalities. It was all so calm and matter of fact, just sitting on a loveseat beside Beau in one of the refuge sitting rooms, with Susan and Ms. Dawson and Dr. Hanek gathered around on other chairs. Roland barely realized the questions he was answering were his wedding vows, even when he automatically responded, “I do.”

But then there was a tiny round of applause, and Roland turned to meet Beau’s eyes.

Beau raised his eyebrows, asking some silent question, and Roland nodded a little, and then—oh, oh—Beau dipped his head and touched his lips to Roland’s, soft and chaste. A kiss. Their first kiss.

They were married.

There was another paper to sign for that, but Beau let Roland sign along his finger again, and his hand didn’t shake any worse than the first four times.

“Excellent. We’ll put the appropriate date on this and send it in tomorrow to be filed, but you are now officially married. Congratulations, both of you.”

“Thanks,” Roland murmured, and then looked up at Beau, who squeezed him a little closer.

“We’ll eat some cake first,” Beau said. “Then we’ll figure out everything else.”

Buy Links - Available on KU

Amazon US | Amazon UK

Goodreads

About the Author 

Dessa Lux is a librarian living in the Midwest, running on Diet Coke and Adderall. She's a geek who loves reading and writing romance, including the fanfic kind, and you can tell her apart from the others of her kind because she does not own a cat.

Social Media Links: Blog/Website | Facebook | Twitter

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Life is a Stevie Wonder Song by V.L. Locey - Release Blitz

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Length: 87 pages

Cover Design: Sloan J Designs

Blurb

Authors know that their muse is a fickle creature. Best-selling spy novelist Steven Ramsey has been in a hate-hate relationship with his inspiration for months. When Steven's publisher lays a legal ultimatum upon him, with a rapidly approaching deadline, he knows he must do something to kick-start his creativity or face the unemployment line. His daughter comes up with a possible answer: a summer camp for the creative soul. With nothing to lose, Steven packs up his laptop, phonograph, and beloved record albums and heads from Greenwich Village to the Catskill Mountains.

There, among a horde of college students attending for extra credits, is Declan Pomeroy, a photographer of fey creatures who is twenty-two years younger than Steven. The woods are a magical place, and he quickly finds himself falling under the spell of the free-spirited photographer. Confusion wars with desire as Steven succumbs to the feelings welling up inside. But, sadly, summer camp always must end. Can a man who has just found himself really leave the person that makes his heart sing?

Excerpt

I set my sights on the road. Someone called my name. I would know his singsong voice anywhere. I lifted a hand in greeting, my ugly ape feet glued to this fucking spot in the road. Declan bounded down the two stairs, racing toward me. My heart began to hammer behind my ribs. He ran across his freshly mowed lawn wearing a smile as big as the Catskills. I was not prepared for the leap he made at me. I caught him but just barely. He wrapped his arms and legs around me like some sort of invasive vine. His mouth smashed against mine. My knees grew rubbery as my prick roused in my shorts. I cupped his ass with both hands.

"I am so glad to see you," he purred between kisses.

Someone back on the porch shouted. My grip on his backside lessened and he slid to the ground with a pout. "Come meet the guys. We were just talking about you."

"You kids don’t want an old dinosaur breaking up your good times."

"Just stop." Declan grabbed my wrist and tugged me along in his wake. For being so slender, he was a strong little tugboat. The boys on the porch greeted me warmly. They were incredibly similar in style, which, I guess, reflects on the age. Conformity to the current trends is everything when you're young. Each young man wore cargo shorts, low-cut tank tops, Nikes, sunglasses, and ball caps turned backward. Aside from hair coloring all four, and that included Declan—although his ankle bracelet and pink bandana ascot showed a modicum of individuality—were cookie-cutter young males. I was greeted with "Yo" and "'Sup" after Declan introduced me.

He then steered me to the lone seat, a rough Adirondack chair exactly like the one on my porch. I sat. The guys fell back into their conversation about some video game. Declan sat down beside me, his dark head resting on my knee. I trembled violently inside at the gesture. All my bells and whistles were ringing, and yet these kids didn’t seem to pay any attention to the public display of affection. My hand was shaking when I placed it timidly on Declan’s head. His hair was soft as rabbit fur. He sighed blissfully at the contact. Talk flowed around me but I said little. If one did not know my avocation to be a wordsmith, they would think me mute.

About an hour passed. Declan had not moved an inch. My fingers now dallied with his hair. I had learned a great deal about this camp from simply listening. It was an open camp—obviously, since I had registered— but mostly college students used it to pick up an extra credit if they were in any of the arts programs. They had to write papers and turn them in before the fall semester began. If students from across the country did not fill all the bungalows, then they were offered to authors who couldn’t author anymore.

The troupe of artists, actors, and musicians slowly pushed into their skater shoes and ambled off. I was content to sit here forever, stroking Declan’s hair, but I had a few questions for my obsession.

"Why do you need extra credit?" I asked. A honeybee visited the red flowers in Declan’s clay pot. "Didn’t you graduate? You're twenty-two, that should get you a bachelor's degree in fine arts."

His cheek laid on my bare thigh. I felt his heavy exhalation tickle the yellow hairs on my leg. My fingers continued combing.

"I'm a super senior," he said without lifting his head from my leg.

"Do you get fries with that?"

About the Author

V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, walking, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order.) She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a flock of assorted domestic fowl, and two Jersey steers.

When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand. She can also be found online on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and GoodReads.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Goodreads | My blog

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Five Dares by Eli Easton - Book Blitz

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Cover Design: Natasha Snow

Blurb

Andy Tyler has been the class daredevil since middle school. Over the years, he’s convinced his best friend, Jake Masterson, to perform some dangerous-looking stunts with him. But the dare they attempt on the night of their college graduation goes sideways. The firecrackers explode too soon and both of them end up with badly burned palms.

But hey, nothing gets the “terrible two-o” down for long, and they recuperate in style at Andy’s family cottage in Cape Cod. As the weeks go by, both Andy and Jake grow frustrated over the inability to use their hands for all sorts of daily activities—including getting off. So Andy begins a new series of dares that don’t just cross the friendship line, they obliterate it.

But what might be mere sexual relief to Andy is serious business to Jake, who only recently got over years of secret pining for his straight best friend. Inevitably, the burns heal, summer ends, and hearts are broken. To fix things, Andy will have to face the greatest dare of all.

Excerpt

The first few weeks at the cottage we had good weather and spent most of our time outside. Walter said our burns were coming along well. So far we’d avoided making things worse, which was a miracle. The burns were gnarly looking though, and painful when he rewrapped them.

My palms were the bright red of fresh blood. They looked like they’d been dipped in boiling water, with layers around the edge turning white and loose in spots. My hands alternated between a mild burning and piercing pain that went supernova anytime I accidentally clenched them or bumped them into something. Doing or lifting anything that required any pressure on the skin whatsoever was right out.

So by the time we’d been basking on the Nantucket Sound for two weeks, I was climbing the fucking walls.

“I’ve never been this damn horny in my life,” I complained to Jake, bitterly and sincerely.

It was almost noon, and we were sitting out on the dock like we usually did. It had been great hanging out together. We’d caught up on a lot of stuff we never seemed to get around to talking about during school—his upcoming new life. Harvard. Our mutual friends and exes. We’d told ghost stories. We’d taken long walks and kicked around a soccer ball for hours. We’d played poker on Jake’s tablet and consumed six seasons of The Walking Dead on the big-screen TV. It was nice having undivided Jake time, but I’d reached the point where frustration had me close to tears.

Not tears of boredom either. Sexually frustrated tears.

“Turn page,” Jake responded. He was reading on his Kindle.

“I’m not sure how that would help me get off,” I joked.

Jake snorted, but he didn’t rise to the bait.

I shifted in my chair. I wasn’t kidding. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone more than two days without an orgasm. Probably not since I’d figured out the magical wonderland that was my dick when I was eleven years old. I’d had a permanent semi for days now, and my loose, silky gym shorts—worn because I could get them up and down by myself if I scooched against a wall—were doing nothing to disguise it or help it go away.

I moved my bandaged hands onto the arms of the deck chair and looked down at myself. Even looking at my crotch made my dick grow under the silky blue fabric. It was like a hopeful puppy anticipating attention.

In my peripheral vision, I saw Jake glance at it too. He leaned forward in his chair, hunching toward the Kindle, which was propped on a little table in front of him. “Turn page.”

“You did not just read an entire page.” I smirked.

“Shut up, Mr. TMI.” Jake fake-read some more.

But I knew I had his attention. “Have you figured out a way to get off yet? Because I haven’t.”

“No,” he said in a distracted voice. Despite his blasé look, I knew there was no way he was absorbing a single word on that Kindle screen.

“Me neither. I tried humping the bed, but it didn’t work. Fucking mattress is so soft and lumpy.”

“Can you not give me the gory details?” Jake hunched further and stared at the Kindle.

“Rubbing against the tiles in the shower didn’t work. They’re too hard.”

He snorted. “What are you, the Goldilocks of self-love?”

I chuckled. “That’s me. I need something just right.” I used a filthy voice on the last bit.

Jake shifted uneasily but didn’t look at me. “Too bad Amber dumped you. Maybe you could call her and play the poor invalid card. She might be willing to drive down for a conjugal visit.”

“Nah. So not worth the bowing and scraping I’d have to do.”

I gave it a moment, trying to build up my nerve.

I hadn’t been kidding. I’d tried a half-dozen ways to get off, but nothing was working. So I’d put some serious brain power into figuring out a solution. I was good at working around obstacles, but the obvious answer—the thing I really wanted—involved Jake, and I wasn’t sure how he’d react.

Just thinking about it, I plumped up further, causing a definite tent in my shorts. I half expected Jake to tease me, something like, You could poke someone’s eye out with that thing.

But all he said was, “Turn page.”

“So . . . you haven’t gotten off since before the hospital?” I asked.

“No,” Jake said quickly. “And it’s not helping to talk about it, thank you very much. It’s like when you talk about having a tickle in your throat, it makes you want to cough.” His voice was tense. I saw his eyes flicker toward my shorts, though he didn’t turn his head and he continued to pretend to read.

My heart pounded. I felt exposed at the moment, my semi obscene, so I sat up and hunched forward too, elbows on my knees. I watched a ski boat go by. The roar of the motor was loud. I waited until it had passed. Then I swallowed and told myself it didn’t matter. It was no big deal to suggest it. And if he said no, it was no biggie. I could play it off as a joke. But it really didn’t feel that way.

“Speaking of a tickle in your throat . . . I have an idea about how we can get off.”

“You do?” Jake’s tone was fast and curious. Definitely interested.

“Yup.”

“Like what? Gonna have Walter install a Fleshlight in the shower?” He chuckled.

I huffed. “Yeah. You know my dad combs through every one of my credit card statements. No way am I ordering a Fleshlight. Not to mention the fact that I’d have to kill myself after asking Walter to install something like that.”

Walter, our nurse, was in his fifties, white, bald, and pudgy. He had a squeaky-clean fundamentalist thing going on and had mentioned “praying” for us several times. Ix-nay on asking Walter to mount a fuck tube in the shower.

“So what then, Oh Planinator?” Jake sat up from his slouch and looked at me.

Unable to meet his gaze, I studied the water. “Okay, so just hear me out before saying no.”

“Oh shit. You only say that when it’s really whacked.”

“Come on! I’m serious.”

Jake sighed, but I could swear there was a new tension in the air. He was no longer pretending to read his Kindle. He leaned back in his chair and waited. “Go on, then. Spit it out.”

I grinned and turned my head to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “That’s the goal, yeah.”

He kicked my leg lightly with his bare heel. “Just say it.”

“Okay. So. We can’t jerk off, right?” I held up my bandaged hands a little.

“Obviously.”

“Well, have you ever heard of guys who can, you know, suck their own dicks?”

There was a sharp inhale from Jake, but he kept his face blank. “Yeah. I can’t though. Not even a little bit.”

“I know. Me neither. So I thought . . .” Fuck. This was hard to say. Incredibly hard to say. But there was no point in beating around the bush. “Okay. So. What if we sucked each other, like, at the same time, and pretended we were doing ourselves? Sort of self-suck by proxy.”

I’d intended to keep a jokey tone during this, so I could claim I was teasing. But the words started tumbling out, and there was a hollow ringing in my ears. I honestly didn’t have the slightest fucking clue what my tone had been or how it must have sounded to Jake.

Next to me, he went deadly still. He stared down at his knees. There was a little frown behind his brow. He looked worried. Or disturbed. Or both concurrently.

I fought the urge to overexplain or justify. Play it cool. I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes as if soaking in the sun. “It would get the job done.” I shrugged.

“Did you honestly just ask me to suck you off?” Jake asked in a quiet voice.

“No. That’s not what I said. Don’t go all homophobic on me, bro. Look, we can’t use our hands at all. Fact. If you could suck yourself, you would—right? Fact. But you can’t. I’m in the same boat. So I’m thinking if we were end to end, we could close our eyes and pretend we’re doing ourselves. And we’d get off. And we wouldn’t have to get Walter or anyone else involved. It’s really the best solution.”

Jake was silent again for a long moment. “I’m not doing that.” His voice was firm, grim, like he meant it.

Honestly, I was surprised. And a little hurt.

“Fine,” I said. “It was just a suggestion. You got a better idea? Or do you want the worst case of blue balls ever? Because I’m about to crawl the fucking walls.”

“I’m not doing it,” he repeated adamantly.

“Yeah, I heard you the first time, Jake.”

In my peripheral vision, I could see he was stiff and tense, like he might bolt. But, finally, he relaxed. He leaned forward toward the Kindle. “Turn page,” he said, his voice tight.

“What if I dared you?” I asked, unable to let it go.

“Jesus, Andy, fuck off!” Jake snarled. He got up and stormed toward the cottage. We’d figured out that if we kicked the bottom of the screen door, it would bounce open for a second, long enough to get one foot in. He did this harder than necessary and went inside. I was so shocked, I let him go without a word.

Goddamn it. I’d known it would be risky to bring it up, but some part of me believed Jake would jump at the chance. Or, worst case, brush it off as a joke. I hadn’t expected anger. Jake had never told me to fuck off like that. Not that I could remember.

Shit.

Okay. Bad idea. Abort, abort. But it was too late to take it back.

About Eli

Having been, at various times and under different names, a minister’s daughter, a computer programmer, a game designer, an author of paranormal thrillers, a fan-fiction writer, an organic farmer, and a profound sleeper, Eli Easton is happy these days writing love stories.

As an avid reader of such, she is tinkled pink when an author manages to combine literary merit, vast stores of humor, melting hotness, and eye-dabbing sweetness into one story. She promises to strive to achieve most of that most of the time. She currently lives on a farm in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, with her husband, three bulldogs, two cows, a cat, and a potbellied pig. She enjoys reading in all genres and, when she can be pried away from her iPad, hiking and biking.

Eli Easton has published 24 books in m/m romance since 2013. She won the Rainbow Award for Best Contemporary Romance in 2014 (The Mating of Michael) and in 2016 (A Second Harvest). Her Howl at the Moon series of humorous dog shifter romances have become fan favorites and placed in the Rainbow Awards and the Goodreads M/M Group Reader’s Choice awards. She is best known for romances with humor and a lot of heart.

Connect with Eli:
Website: elieaston.com
Facebook
Twitter: @EliEaston

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Rented Heart by Garrett Leigh - Review

Rented Heart #1

232 Pages

Publisher: Fox Love Press

Buy Links: Amazon US | Amazon UK

Available on Kindle Unlimited

Blurb

Ex-surfer-turned-businessman Liam Mallaney moved back to Holkham, Norfolk, to mourn the loss of his husband. Grief and loneliness keep him a solitary figure, and he likes it that way. There’s no room in his broken heart for anything else.

Rentboy Zac Payne left London and most of his demons behind, but he still only knows one way to make a living. When he spots Liam in a club one night, it seems he’s found his mark. But Liam proves nicer—and their connection far deeper—than he’d bargained for. 

Their arrangement quickly becomes too complicated for Zac, who has other things on his mind: namely his BFF and wayward flatmate, Jamie. Zac owes Jamie the world, and even as Jamie’s drug addiction destroys all they have, Zac won’t leave him behind.

Besides, Liam knows nothing of Zac’s home life, too caught up in his own head to think much beyond the crazy heat he and Zac share. But when trouble comes to Zac’s door, putting his life in danger, Liam must set his grief and anger aside to pick up the pieces of Zac’s shattered heart and his own.

Review

Rented Heart is the story of two broken men, finding each other and, rather against the odds, healing each other as well as themselves. In many ways it’s a tale about the various forms of devastation.

Liam’s live changed completely when his husband Cory died. While he still runs the company they set up together, he does so from a sense of duty towards his husband and the people he employs. His heart isn’t in it. Just as his heart isn’t in the rest of his life, not really. He goes through the motions and mostly keeps to himself.

Zac on the other hand has beat the odds and turned his life around. Well, the drug taking part of it anyway. He still makes his living as a rentboy. While he barely has his own shit together, he’s also trying to look out for his friend, Jamie, who is still addicted and appears to be sliding towards his demise.

These two men don’t appear to have any common ground between them. And yet, from the moment Zac solicits Liam, sparks fly. What should have been a one-time deal, somehow turns into something more. Zac reminds Liam that there’s more to life than dragging yourself from one day to the next, while Liam gives Zac something to dream about.

Of course the path of true love never runs smoothly, and I saw the inevitable catastrophe coming a mile off. But, given the storyline and the characters, the drama made sense. What’s more, it wasn’t dragged out either. Because of that I found that I had no issue with the angst in this book, although I certainly hurt for these two men and all they put themselves and each other through.

If I had an issue with this story it is that I never got why Zac and Liam switched from lust to love. While it is obvious from their thoughts and actions that they do, I never completely understood what drove that transition.

Other than that, this was a touching, gripping, very well written and sexy story which left me hungry for more. How lucky am I that I have the sequel, Soul to Keep, already waiting on my Kindle? J

Beholden by Kris T. Bethke - Release Blitz

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Length: 42,000 words approx.

Cover Design: Written Ink Designs

Publisher: JMS Publishing

Blurb

Julian Thomas made the unpopular decision to become Beholden and focus his magic only on scrying. Because of it, he's the best at his job and the top scryer for the Department of Extranormal and Magical Affairs. Which why Investigations Agent Wes Caldwell goes right to Julian for help locating a missing person.

When Wes needs to use his magic to boost Julian's, they find a magical resonance between them that quickly leads to more. Julian doesn't want to move too fast, but Wes knows Julian is it for him. He's fine with waiting, as long as Julian stays close as they work through it.

But then Julian falls ill, and it's clear there's a magical reason. Wes will stop at nothing to find out what's plaguing Julian, and when they realize just how deep the plot goes, they have more questions than answers. Magic is increasing in the world, and no one can figure out why. Julian and Wes have found love, but will it be enough to get them through what's to come?

Excerpt

"Better?" Wes asked eventually. "Feel more centered and focused now?"

I nodded. Then I sat back a little so I could see his face. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and tucked my fingers down the collar of his dress shirt, not wanting to lose too much contact with his skin. "Yes, thank you."

"First things first," Wes said, his voice all business and his face serious. "Are we bonded?"

I sucked in a breath, surprised he'd made that leap. But he had to know that we weren't. If we'd made a bond, even an unintentional one, he would feel the pull as much as I did. "Of course not."

He just nodded his head, like that was the answer he expected. "But you feel better when you're touching me. When you can pull on my magic to augment your own?"

I released a sigh, and couldn't quite stop myself from snuggling just a tiny bit closer. I shrugged one shoulder. "Yes. Like I said, your magic fits with mine. So it's easy and natural to use you as a source. I'm sorry about that."

He glared at me like I had said something stupid. "Don't be ridiculous. There's nothing to apologize for. It's not like you did it on purpose. Right?"

That last bit was said with just a tiny bit of accusation. I tried not to be offended. "No, I didn't do it on purpose."

Wes just squinted at me. "So then, we have to figure out what's going on with you, what's pulling on your power. Until then, you just need to stick close to me so I can keep you stable."

I gave an indignant huff. "That's hardly practical. We've both got jobs to do. You seriously can't expect us to stay in each other's pockets because I have a little sense of fatigue. You're getting a little extreme there, buddy." I tried to pull away from him but he held me fast, and gave me a look that I couldn't quite interpret.

"You've got someone else that can keep your magic and your energy up?"

"Well, no," I answered honestly. I'd never met anyone whose magic fit so well with mine. "But that doesn't mean you can just drop everything and keep me stable. That thought is just-" I cast about for a suitable word and finally settled on, "preposterous."

Wes just gave a snort, sounding amused. "I can do whatever I want. And I don't want you lying in bed barely able to function. That serves no one. So you'll just have to be 'in my pocket' until we can figure it out and fix you. There has to be some magical means at work here. And I am an Investigations Agent. I'll investigate."

His tone was playful, cajoling, and I wanted to smile, but this was too serious. We barely knew each other and, my crush notwithstanding, he couldn't just drop everything to take care of me. He wasn't making any sense.

Author Bio

Kris T. Bethke has been a voracious reader for pretty much her entire life and has been writing stories for nearly as long. An avid and prolific daydreamer, she always has a story in her head. She spends most of her free time reading, writing, or knitting/crocheting her latest project. Her biggest desire is to find a way to accomplish all three tasks at one time. A classic muscle car will always turn her head, and naps on the weekend are one of her greatest guilty pleasures. She lives in a converted attic with a way too fluffy cat and the voices in her head. She’ll tell you she thinks that’s a pretty good deal. Kris believes that love is love, no matter the gender of people involved, and that all love deserves to be celebrated.

Find her on her website  Facebook  or on Twitter 

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The Contingency Plan by Addison Albright - Release Blitz with Review

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Length: 8,040 words approx.

Publisher: JMS Publishing

Blurb

A sheltered prince. A sudden death. An unexpected choice. How will Prince Marcelo react to discovering he’s The Contingency Plan?

For eighteen years, there has been peace between Sheburat and the kingdom of Zioneven. The untimely death of a princess throws the marriage arrangement -- the final phase to complete the terms of the treaty -- into disarray, and the contingency plan is put into motion. Now the Crown Prince of Zioneven gets to make his own choice from among the princess’s younger siblings.

As a rare royal son in the matriarchal sovereignty of Sheburat, Prince Marcelo grew up knowing he would never marry. Never. Royal sons did not marry. Period. Except, Prince Efren isn’t from Sheburat, and he has other plans.

Excerpt

With everyone now in attendance, Queen Giselle stepped forward. “Your Royal Highness, Ladies and Lords, and people of Zioneven, please accept our warm welcome to Sheburat, and I hope you’ll accept our sincere apology for the chaos in which you find us today.”

Prince Efren inclined his head. “Of course, Your Majesty. On behalf of Zioneven, I offer our heartfelt condolences on the loss of your beloved daughter.”

“Thank you,” Queen Giselle replied. “Sadly, our loss yesterday affects more than simply causing us private pain.”

“Indeed.” Prince Efren kept his reply short, perhaps diplomatically leaving it to Queen Giselle to either further the conversation toward whether or not he was ready to choose his alternate, or to wait for a time when her grief would be less immediate.

His mother would put diplomacy first, Marcelo didn’t doubt that. The conversation may or may not happen today, but it would occur during this visit. Diplomacy always came ahead of personal concerns.

“Although disappointment caused by the cancellation of the wedding we’d expected tomorrow is unavoidable,” Queen Giselle said. “I hope you’ll find a small comfort in knowing that you may now make your own choice of your future bride from among my younger daughters rather than the arrangement made on your behalf at the tender age of five.” 

Again, Prince Efren inclined his head. “Sibling.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Sibling. The terms of the treaty specify I may choose an alternate from among Princess Marcela’s younger siblings. It didn’t restrict the choice to daughters.”

Marcelo stiffened. What in the world could Prince Efren mean by that? Men didn’t marry men. At least, he’d never heard of such a thing occurring in Sheburat. Marcelo wasn’t alone in his bewilderment. Everyone on his side of the room stilled. None of the faces opposite them exhibited confusion. Was that an acceptable option in Zioneven’s culture?

It was only by mere minutes, but Marcelo did qualify as a younger sibling to Marcela.

For the first time in Marcelo’s recollection, his mother faltered. “Do…surely…but…”

Marcelo turned his head toward her, his wide eyes silently imploring her to voice an objection. Kemble may have recently grown complacent thinking herself in the clear, but she’d at least spent her life knowing she was the likely backup plan.

As a royal son in this matriarchal society, Marcelo had grown up knowing he would never marry. Never. Royal sons did not marry. Period.

He’d been perfectly happy with that knowledge because he’d never experienced the attraction that men outside the royal family felt toward women. In fact, he’d enjoyed knowing he would not have to merge his life with a woman’s with the expectation of having to bed her. 

His gaze flicked back and forth between Queen Giselle and Prince Efren before settling on the prince. Prince Efren had kept his eyes locked with the queen’s, but as if sensing Marcelo’s scrutiny, his head turned to reflect Marcelo’s regard.

Marcelo’s heart thudded so vigorously in his chest, surely everyone in the room must hear it. His respiration quickened. That single word uttered by Prince Efren had shattered Marcelo’s understanding of everything he knew about the world and had expected in his life.

Queen Giselle remained frozen for a few more moments, her brows drawn together as she processed the unexpected direction of this discussion. She cast a brief, apologetic glance toward Marcelo, then lifted her shoulders in a barely visible shrug. “The treaty does indeed use that word. Prince Efren, the choice is yours.”

Marcelo’s stomach dropped as her words echoed through the silent hall even though he’d known in his heart that she’d put Sheburat before her son’s individual concerns. So, he felt no personal betrayal. It was who is mother had to be.

Prince Efren continued to stare at Marcelo as he firmly stated, “I choose His Royal Highness, Prince Marcelo. The wedding will proceed tomorrow as planned.”

Marcelo swayed as the blood drained from his face. How could this be? How did such a marriage work? Would he be expected to—

“Marcelo?” Suky’s whispered tone voiced her concern. “Are you unwell?”

She repeated the words, but from farther away. Or did her voice only seem distant? He wobbled as the people around him faded, and then, thankfully, this nightmare all went away.

Review

After insta-lust and insta-love this story can probably best be described as ‘insta-everything’. J

But I’ll start at the beginning. This is a short story that needs to be read with a certain level of suspension of disbelief. But, since this is a fantasy, I found it easy to get caught up in the … well … fantasy. And I have to admit that it makes a nice change to read a story in which two young men see each other for the first time, experience attraction, and are able to act on it despite the fact that their coming together breaks with a long list of conventions and traditions. Sometimes all I want is a little bit of sexy and happy, and this story provided me with both.

I’m rather impressed that the world this story is set in has come to life for me, despite the fact that the short story format didn’t allow for extensive descriptions and explanations. With just a few words the author managed to explain both Marcelo’s matriarchal society and Efren’s more traditional (by our standards) country.

While I wouldn’t have complained if this story had been longer, and would certainly read any further tales about the two princes, I don’t feel this story needed to be longer. By the time it ended I was happy in the knowledge that both MCs were in a good place, together. 

Yes, this story is almost closer to a fairy-tale than a fantasy. Yes, all of it is too good and too smooth to be true. But, also yes, this was a delightful little story and a most wonderful and entertaining way so spend part of a rainy afternoon.

The Author

Addison Albright is a writer living in the middle of the USA. Her stories are gay (sometimes erotic) romance in contemporary, fantasy, and paranormal genres. Her education includes a BS in Education with a major in mathematics and a minor in chemistry. Addison loves spending time with her family, reading, popcorn, boating, french fries, “open window weather,” cats, math, and anything chocolate. She loves to read pretty much anything and everything, anytime and anywhere.

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Rising Tide (A Changing Tides Novel) by Bryce Winters - Release Blitz

Book Title: Rising Tide: A Changing Tides Novel

Author: Bryce Winters

Publisher: Self Published

Cover Artist: Resplendent Media

Genre/s: MM Contemporary Romance

Length: 73,000 words

It's a standalone story. The first book in a trilogy (The Changing Tides Trilogy)

Blurb

The rising tide brings storms...

Harris Brewer has seen it all – and cut it open. As a cardiac surgeon, he's used to challenges, used to surprises. But when he's slapped with a high-profile malpractice suit the last thing he expects is to get shipped off to a tiny Oregon town to 'let the lawyers handle it.' Then he sees a big blonde hunk jogging down the street and realizes that maybe a hot vacation fling is just what the doctor ordered...

The rising tide brings change...

Never get involved with a tourist. That's been Reid Colburn's policy and it's served him well. They come, bring their money, and leave. That's good enough for his restaurant business – and his heart. But this new guy in town, he's something else. Reid can’t deny enjoying the relentless flirting. Too bad Dr. Stud is just passing through...

The rising tide erodes the past...

Despite being careful to avoid it, Reid finds himself on the brink of falling in love. They both knew this was a temporary thing, so why does it hurt so bad when Harris going back to Los Angeles becomes the inevitable reality? Maybe Reid shouldn't be fighting against the tide. Maybe he should just ride this stormy affair to wherever it leads...

Buy Links: Amazon US| Amazon UK

Goodreads 

Excerpt

Reid left Harris to peruse the menu, refreshing drinks and chatting with other customers. But even while he remained busy, his attention stayed hung up on the newcomer. By the time he came back around to Harris, the man was staring at him again, chin resting in one hand, the other drumming a simple rhythm on the bar. Reid smiled at him, ignoring the swooping sensation in his stomach.

“What’ll it be?” Reid asked.

“Since I liked your first recommendation, I thought you could give me another,” Harris said, a suggestive smile playing on his lips.

Reid knew Harris meant something off-menu. Preferably in a bedroom. Reid also knew he should shut this down now. It had gone on too long already. He plastered on a distant but friendly smile and said, “Fish ‘n chips. We use rockfish, which has a richer fish flavor if that’s what you’re looking for. Cod can be a little bland. We have cod, too, if you’d prefer.”

Harris pushed the menu toward Reid, all traces of his flirtatious behavior gone. “That sounds good. The rockfish.”

Reid kept the smile on his face, though a hollow ache had suddenly bloomed behind his stomach. Disappointment. In himself for not going along with Harris' suggestive behavior and letting himself have a little fun. He was surprised to find that he wished he had given a different answer, that maybe the night could have taken a different turn for both of them. He resisted the urge to try and salvage it, to flirt back with Harris.

"Coming right up," Reid said instead, heading toward the kitchen.

Julie’s kitchen was on top of it tonight, and Harris’ order came up quickly. Harris ate in silence, though Reid felt the weight of those incredible eyes. They held a sad mystery in them, one that Reid wanted to discover. But Reid had his hands full with drink orders and customers at the bar, the night picking up rapidly. The Irish drinking songs had already begun in the dining room, much to Sasha’s chagrin.

"These men know nothing," she groused. Reid laughed. Sasha had immigrated from Russia only a short time ago. Reid didn’t know much of her past besides what Sasha had been willing to share. He knew she used to be a ballerina, but she remained stubbornly closed-lipped about the rest. Including the family she left behind. Her thick accent threw a lot of customers off at first, but she was generally friendly unless you said the wrong thing to the wrong person.

"They're still paying customers, Sasha," he said as she hefted another heavy tray full of beer.

She muttered something in Russian as she wandered off. Harris snorted and laughed at his end of the bar.

"She's got a mouth on her," he said.

"You understood that?" Reid asked, curious.

"Yeah," Harris said, finishing off his beer. Reid noticed that his plate was empty, with only a used lemon slice and a little bit of tartar left in its bowl.

Reid's curiosity and interest in the man ratcheted up ten-fold. It had been hard enough to convince himself to stick to his principles without Harris proving to be even more interesting.

Instead of asking Harris how he knew Russian or even what Sasha had said like he so desperately wanted to, Reid gathered Harris' plate and took it into the back. Then he printed Harris' tab and slid it his way with an easy smile.

"I hope you enjoy your stay in Seaside," he said and left Harris to it, though every ounce of his being screamed in protest as he walked away.

A few minutes later, well after Reid had watched Harris slip out the door without so much as a wave goodbye, Sasha picked up Harris’ receipt and let out a sharp curse in Russian. At least, Reid had always thought it was a curse. She said it a lot. Reid abandoned the drink he had been pouring and made his way to Sasha’s side.

"What is it?" he asked, looking over her shoulder. Then he choked on air as surprise shot through him.

Large loopy letters spelling out one-thousand dollars resided on the tip line.

About the Author 

Bryce Winters lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and two crazy cats.

She’s a professional tutor by day, writer by night, and loves helping students achieve their goals. When she's not writing, Bryce enjoys crocheting ridiculously large blankets and reading all the romance she can get her hands on.

Social Media Links: Blog/Website | Facebook  | Goodreads

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