Loving a Warrior by Melanie Hansen - Release Blitz

Buy Links: Amazon US | Amazon UK

Length: 77,300 words approx.

Publisher: Carina Press

Blurb

BUD/S: six months of the most intense training there is. It’s survival of the toughest, and Matt Knytych is determined to come out the other side a navy SEAL.

Distraction is life or death. And just the sight of former marine Shane Hovland is enough to shake Matt’s concentration.

Shane came to BUD/S training ready to prove himself—again. Semper Fi is forever, but he needs a new start. Not this dangerous heat with a man he barely knows.

Everything they’ve ever wanted is riding on a thin, punishing line. And they’ll have to fight for more than just each other if they want to make it through intact.

After all, the only easy day was yesterday.

Author Bio

Melanie Hansen doesn’t get nearly enough sleep. She loves all things coffee-related, including collecting mugs from every place she’s visited. After spending eighteen years as a military spouse, Melanie definitely considers herself a moving expert. She has lived and worked all over the country, and hopes to bring these rich and varied life experiences to the love stories she gets up in the wee hours to write. On her off-time, you can find Melanie watching baseball, reading or spending time with her husband and two teenage sons.

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The Law of Miracles by K.C. Wells - Release Day Review

305 Pages

Buy Links: Amazon US | Amazon UK

Blurb

The sequel to A Christmas Promise…

Joshua Trant is doing his best to support his son Micah and Micah’s partner Greg as they approach the trial of Greg’s attackers. This was never going to be easy, especially as Greg wants them prosecuted for a hate crime, but County Attorney Alexander Rycliffe assures them he’ll do his utmost to make sure the perpetrators are held accountable for their actions. Joshua hopes that whatever the outcome, Greg will be happy. What he’s finding more difficult to deal with, is the way he’s feeling about Alex. Joshua has loved two people in his life – Hayden and Rachel – and lost them both. The chance of him being lucky a third time is so slim, the thought doesn’t even cross his mind, until Love – and his kids – give him a push in the right direction…

Alex knows what it is to have loved and lost, and he thinks he’s done with men. Then Joshua Trant walks into his life. Alex soon learns there’s more to Joshua than just a handsome face, and the men finally have what both of them need – a friend. But as the months go by, it becomes obvious to everyone concerned that their friendship has the potential to develop into something deeper – if they let it.

One man who thinks he’s had his chance at love.
One man who has to let go of a past betrayal and learn to trust again.
And both are about to be shown Christmas is indeed a time of miracles. All you have to do is believe…

A slow burn for Christmas that makes the HEA worth waiting for.

Review

Oh my. I love this story so hard, I barely know where to begin. Of course, I had a sneaky suspicion I was going to love Micah, Greg, and Naomi long before I started this book. I’d met them before, a year ago, when I read A Christmas Promise. And meeting them again didn’t disappoint; far from it. If anything, I’d grown even fonder of them by the time the story finished.

But Joshua and Alex? They completely, utterly, and totally stole my heart. Since we met Joshua in A Christmas Promise too, it didn’t come as a huge surprise to discover that he’s an amazing man with a huge heart. But, to see him together with Alex as they slowly move from acquaintances, via friends, to lovers and so much more brought a whole new dimension to my adoration of him.

Alex is the new face in this story, and it therefore made sense that it takes a while longer before we fully realize what makes him tick, and why he acts and reacts the way he does. But, it’s clear from the start that he too is a charming and caring character. The fact that he comes with a snarky and outspoken best friend in the form of Manda, was a wonderful cherry on an already amazing cake.

It was the fabulous and masterfully created balance of hurt and comfort, laughter and tears, profound moments and hilarity that made it impossible for me to put this story down. This is a wonderful, deeply touching, slow-burn romance. It is also so much more with its reminders of violence and bigotry and its references to the shortcomings of the law and the cruelty of some (and far too many) in our society. What makes this story extra special is the K.C. Wells managed to include those moments without ever making this a harsh or dark story.

Because ultimately this is a story about love triumphing, about it never being too late for a second (or even third) all-encompassing love. Joshua and Alex are mature men and they act like mature men. They talk, they are honest, and they know that sometimes patience is your best friend. I loved their banter. The sessions when Alex teaches Joshua to cook made me smile but mostly hungry. And between Manda and the three youngsters (Micah, Greg, and Naomi) going out of their way to push these two men to where they so obviously belong—i.e. together— there was a perfect amount of hilarity amidst the developing love and fear of committing.

While you could, probably, read The Law of Miracles without reading A Christmas Promise first, I most strongly advice against such a course of action. Each story individually is a delight, together they are something very, very special.

A wonderful Christmas story and a great read no matter the time of year.

Related review: AChristmas Promise

Neutral Zone (A Christmas Railers Novella) by RJ Scott & V.L Locey

Buy Links: Amazon US | Amazon UK | KOBO | iTunes | Barnes & Noble

Cover Design: Meredith Russell

Length: 40,000 words approx.

Harrisburg Railers Series

Book #1 - Changing Lines - Amazon US | Amazon UK

Book #2 - First Season - Amazon US | Amazon UK

Book #3 - Deep Edge - Amazon US | Amazon UK

Book #4 - Poke Check - Amazon US | Amazon UK

Book #5 - Last Defense - Amazon US | Amazon UK

Book #6 - Goal Line - Amazon US | Amazon UK

Blurb

Tennant Rowe has it all, a boyfriend he adores, a loving family, and a career on the rise. He’s sure of his place in the world, and the future can only get brighter. Then one night, in a flash of skates and sticks, life changes forever. Getting back on the ice is Ten’s priority, and experts tell him that it’s just a matter of time.

Jared watches his lover fall in more ways than one, and when tragedy strikes, even the strongest of relationships are tested. Ten is strong, but Jared has to be stronger to help the man who holds his heart. Only, he has to admit that maybe it isn’t just him who can make Ten whole again.

Jared and Ten’s love is forever, but the rocky path to the romantic Christmas Jared had planned may be hard to travel.

Excerpt

Ten

Karma. It’s a real bitch. Just ask anyone.

I’d left my man and my team behind in Harrisburg and flown to—get this—fucking Tucson, Arizona, to begin treatment for my traumatic head injury.

The same city the Raptors played in.

I could open the blinds in my room here in the Draper Neurological Rehabilitation and Performance Center and see the glistening mirrored sides of the Santa Catalina Arena. Funny shit right there. Four blocks over, the Raptors were on the ice for morning skate, and I was here, trying to get my brain healed enough so I could maybe play my game again someday.

Shit, right now I’d be happy to be able to speak or read normally.

“Ho, ho, ho,” I growled, closing the drapes, then pulling my sunglasses off and tossing them to the bed. Living behind sunglasses and blinds sucked. Headaches sucked. Slurred speech sucked. Seeing the pity in the eyes of my boyfriend and family and teammates sucked. Christmas with sand and cactus sucked. I wanted to cry. I wanted to be back home with Mads, decorating our tree and shaking my presents. I wanted to be shopping for gifts for my boyfriend, my mother and father, for my brothers, and for Stan and Adler and all the Railers. I wanted things to be the way they had been before that night. Tears threatened, but I held them in. Crying only made my head hurt worse.

So, I padded out of my room and made my way to breakfast and the first of several rounds of rehab I’d be facing today. I’d been here one day and had come to realize that my brain was now as well-known with the neurologists here as my face was back in Harrisburg. This was the place for athletes to come when they were battling CTE-related brain issues. Most of the men here were older, retired players, lots of football players. I mean lots of them. I’d met three other hockey players so far, all retired, all fighting to keep a step ahead of the disease taking over their brains. Sometimes, late at night, when I was lying in bed, I’d get scared for myself and all the other guys on my team. I worried about Mads. God knows how many concussions he’d had when he was playing. Add that to his heart shit and… well, I worried about stuff now. Lots more stuff than I had before the night my head met the ice, sans helmet.

The facility held a hundred and fifty people, and not all of us were athletes. Lots of patients had come here after car accidents or other catastrophic injuries. There were head injuries and spinal cord injuries being healed. The staff seemed nice, confident in their ability to nurse me back to my old self or as close as we could get. The halls were bright and airy, the food excellent, and the medical staff top-notch. And yes, it was expensive and elite and the cream of the crop. Which was why Mads had stubbornly pushed me into coming here after my initial rehab had been completed. Two weeks at the facility, a couple of weeks back home for the holidays, then back for another four weeks. Then maybe we’d talk about hockey.

“Hey, you’re Tennant Rowe, right?”

I skidded to a halt outside one of a dozen sun-rooms. As though people in Arizona didn’t get enough sun just stepping outside? They needed to make rooms for sun? A tall, burly black man about my age ran at me, hand out. I smiled up at him, trying to pull some information about him from my cloudy memory banks.

“I’m Declan Fidler, cornerback for the Temple Owls.”

“Ah, cool, hey man.” We shook hands. God, he was cute. Short hair and a flashy smile, big wide shoulders and inkwork all over his arms. “Sorry to see you here though, dude.”

“Yeah, I know that.” He ran a hand over his hair. “First game of the season too.”

“That sucks,” I said, then released his hand. “I was on my way to the dining hall.”

“I could eat if you want some company.”

“Totally. Be nice to have someone to talk to who’s under forty.”

“I feel that.”

He joined me on the walk to the dining hall, which looked nothing like the hospital cafeteria I’d been expecting when I first saw it yesterday. This place was upmarket. Round tables with cloth covers, thick royal-blue carpeting, windows that ran floor to ceiling, flowering plants in the corners, and a wait staff.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this place,” I murmured as I followed Declan to a table by the windows.

“I feel the same way,” he said as we took our seats. “I mean, I grew up wealthy, my father’s the chief justice of the Pennsylvania Supreme Court, and I was still blown away.”

“That’s impressive. Did he…?” My brain went totally blank, and I scrambled to find the proper word. “Push. Yeah, did he push to get you in here?” I winced at the slip.

Fuck this shit. Really. Push? How fucking hard it is to recall a word like push?

An older woman in a tidy uniform filled our water glasses, then asked if she could have our room numbers. All the meals here were prepared by nutritionists with an eye to the patients’—athletes in my case—unique needs.

“Big-time. He was adamant about me coming here after the initial rehab. Said that this place would do things to counter the damage that no regular rehab could do. You here for CRT?”

“I uhm…” and that skip again. Fuck. “Dude, sorry, I’m like…” I tapped my temple.

He reached over the table to take my hand. “Ten, man, do not sweat it. You should have seen me when I got here. Barely able to string four words together. Sometimes I still trip up, just like that. But it’s all good. We’re tough motherfuckers. We’ll train our brains.”

“Yeah, train the brains. Cool.”

He gave my hand a squeeze and then released it. “So CRT?”

Our food was served, my platter loaded with scrambled eggs, fresh fruit, a bowl of oatmeal, and chocolate milk. My meds also sat on my tray. Declan’s food was similar, as were the meds in tiny cups lined up for him.

“Cognitive rehab therapy,” he said before shaking out his napkin and laying it over his lap. I did the same and tossed down the pills. I had no idea what they were pumping into me, and I truly didn’t care. As long as they got me back on the ice, they could be dumping Soylent green into my body via the milk. Man, that old movie rocked. What I wouldn’t give to be curled up on the couch with Mads watching it again. “Speech, occupation, and physical therapy. You don’t have any big physical issues, do you?”

“Some weakness on the left side, my arm, but it’s getting better. I hardly drop anything now.”

“That’s good. Once the swelling goes down, things tend to get better.” He took a bite from a slice of whole wheat toast. “I can’t believe I’m sitting here eating with you. Cup winner, LGBT crusader. Thanks for doing that, coming out, being proud and gay. I know how hard that is. My family and team have been amazing about my being queer.”

“Excellent. Glad they’re… fuck, I just. Give me a sec. Yeah, uhm, glad it’s good for you. I’m sorry. Sometimes I can go, like, whole days and barely fuck up, and then I’ll hit this patch where my brain glitches out and… shit. Fuck. Okay, I’m going to shut up for a minute and let my neurons… fire or something.”

“It’s fine. I understand.” And he did. I could see it in his eyes. He totally got it because he was living it too.

I wished everyone else in my life could get it as Declan did. We ate in amiable silence, not that heavy, cloaking pity blanket of quietude that my family draped over me every time I fumbled.

Therapy followed that pleasant breakfast, hours of it. Doctors and nurses, therapists, reading and tests and poking and prodding. Weights and treadmills and medicine balls. Shoving tiny pegs into tinier holes, pet therapy which was actually cool because who didn’t love a dog kiss? Speech therapy was last, and I tanked at it. Totally blew it to shit with my inability to recall one simple phrase. It made me so mad I flipped the table, sending papers and pencils flying. Then, because I had no clue where that outburst had come from, I felt even shittier.

“Tennant, it’s okay,” the woman, who was some fancy kind of advanced speech therapist, said as we picked up the mess I’d made. “Temper flare-ups are common. It’s frustrating not to be able to express yourself. We see that frequently in stroke victims.”

“That was uncool. Just so uncool. I didn’t… it wasn’t… shit.” I dropped to my ass, hands full of work sheets that looked as if a four-year-old had scribbled them down, buried my face in the papers, and wept.

Julie. Yes! That was her name. Julie sat down beside me, rubbed my back, and told me all kinds of reassuring things.

“I’m kind of done for the day,” I told her, and she let me go. I walked the halls, feeling discouraged and sickened with myself. Once I got back to my room, I called home, needing to hear Jared’s voice. As soon as he picked up, I kind of began babbling. A lot of it wasn’t sensible, and it was garbled because I’d have to stop, think, and then restart. But through all of that, Jared listened and never interrupted. When I was done, I fell back onto the bed, exhausted, battling a headache, and sick to death of myself and my stupid brain.

“Sounds like a rough first day,” Jared said. I rolled to my side, tucking my knees up, my gaze on that shiny arena where the Raptors were playing hockey right now. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come out? I can get a hotel room.”

“No, you need to work. The team needs you.”

“You need me as well, Tennant.”

“No, I got this. You can’t do this for me, Mads. Neither can Ryker or Brady or Jamie or my mother. It’s just…” I exhaled through pursed lips. “It’s so much harder than I thought it would be. I mean, I knew it would be hard but fuck sake, I couldn’t recall simple words. How will I ever be able to play if I can’t…” I stopped and calmed myself down. “I hate that this happened. I hate Aarni so much for doing this to me, Jared. I never thought I could ever hate anyone.”

“I know, babe. I wish you’d reconsider and let me come out there.”

He sounded as sick at heart as I was. And truthfully, in that moment, I was close to telling him to fly out. I so needed his arms around me.

“Tell me you love me.”

“I love you.” He drew in a shaky breath. “Do you want me to come out? Just say the word.”

I sat up slowly to avoid a head-rush and the pain that went along with those. “No, I’m good.” I pushed to my feet and went to the window. The sun was setting now, the mirrored sides of the Santa Catalina Arena glowing scarlet and pink. “I’m a tough camper. My Mom said that to me the first time I went to hockey camp.”

“Yeah? How old were you? Five months old or so?”

That made me chuckle. “Nah man, I was like six. And this camp was in Buffalo. I wanted to go so bad. I mean, I can be kind of stubborn when I want something.”

“I’m well aware of that fact,” he replied. Was he sitting down or pacing? Probably pacing because he was tension-riddled over me. “You were persistent about us.”

“Damn right I was. I knew we’d be good.” I touched the pane of glass as a smile of remembrance played on my lips. “I went to that camp, and as soon as my folks dropped me off, I wanted to come home. But Mom wouldn’t let me. She said I had to be a tough camper and that once the homesickness wore off, I’d be glad I stayed.”

“Were you?”

“Yeah, I loved it. Scored my first goal against Tommy Wayfarer. He got mad and cried.” The lights of Tucson began to flicker to life. Someone walked by my door humming Santa Claus is Coming to Town. “I’ll be okay. I just have to score my first goal here.”

“You will.”

“Yeah, I will. So, tell me about morning skate. How did the lines look?”

We talked about the Railers and about Ryker and Declan, my new therapy buddy. We talked about old movies and new songs. We talked for hours. Darkness had blanketed the city when I dozed off on him. I woke up a second later, phone still to my ear, my boyfriend chuckling.

“Wow, you snored yourself awake,” Mads said, then groaned, rising to his feet I assumed.

“Shit, yeah, I fell asleep.” A yawn rolled out of me. I flopped to my side on the bed, my sight on the desert sky over Tucson.

“I need to turn in too,” he said around a yawn.

“Yeah, you’re a couple of hours ahead of us. I’ll call you tomorrow at the same time. I love you, Mads.”

“I love you too, Ten. And your mother was right; you are a tough camper. You’ll begin to see improvement, I know you. You won’t stop until you do.”

“Thanks, Coach.”

“Wiseass.”

“I miss our goodnight kisses.” My eyes were so heavy I could barely keep them open.

“You’ll get plenty when you get home.”

“Mm, loving sounds good.”

“Yes, it does. Get some rest. Heal. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Night,” I mumbled, ended the call, and then fell into an exhausted but fitful sleep. The bed was too hard, too narrow, and far too lacking in Jared Madsen’s big, broad body.

Author Bios

USA Today bestselling author RJ Scott writes stories with a heart of romance, a troubled road to reach happiness, and most importantly, a happily ever after.

RJ Scott is the author of over one hundred romance books, writing emotional stories of complicated characters, cowboys, millionaire, princes, and the men who get mixed up in their lives. RJ is known for writing books that always end with a happy ever after. She lives just outside London and spends every waking minute she isn’t with family either reading or writing.

The last time she had a week’s break from writing she didn’t like it one little bit, and she has yet to meet a bottle of wine she couldn’t defeat.

She’s always thrilled to hear from readers, bloggers and other writers. Please contact via the links below:

Email RJ rj@rjscott.co.uk | 

Facebook | Twitter | BookBub | Instagram | Pinterest

USA Today Bestselling Author V.L. Locey – Penning LGBT hockey romance that skates into sinful pleasures.

V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, walking, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, Torchwood and Dr. Who, 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 pair of geese, far too many chickens, and two 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 one hand and a steamy romance novel in the other.

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Accidentally on Purpose by J.M. Snyder

Buy Links: Amazon US | Amazon UK | JMS Books

Length: 50,000 words approx.

Publisher: JMS Books

Blurb

One morning before work, Alan Travers accidentally bumps into Detective Jim Garrison at a cafe where both men stop for coffee. The handsome younger man interests Alan, but he misses his chance to get to know the detective better and wonders if he'll get another.

With the help of his nephew Brooks, Alan concocts a plan to try and get Jim's attention "accidentally on purpose." It works, but as things heat up between them, Alan worries what Jim will think if he finds out their getting together was no accident.

Then Brooks goes missing, and Alan's going to have to come clean. But is he the only one not being truthful?

Excerpt

Standing on his porch is Detective Jim Garrison with the Richmond police. Dressed in a navy suit and tie, Garrison is a good decade younger than Alan and it shows. He’s sternly handsome, with a wide jaw and smooth, clean-shaven cheeks. His thin lips have a natural redness to them Alan wants to taste. He wears his thick brown hair short, combing the length on top to the left. He tilts his head that way, too, as if afraid to ruin the part. His dark bedroom eyes soften when he sees Alan.

In his gruff voice, Garrison says, “Mr. Travers, hello.”

“Detective.” Alan wonders if his own voice sounds as high out loud as it does in his head. Clearing his throat, he adds, “Nice to see you again.”

Understatement of the year.

“Well,” Garrison drawls, “you might change your mind when you find out the reason why I’m here.”

Alan presses his lips together to keep from grinning. “Oh no. Don’t tell me it’s Brooks again?”

“You are aware there’s a curfew for anyone under eighteen?”

Of course he does. Garrison knows he does. The detective has been here for the same reason before. More than once.

“I know, I do,” Alan says. “But I didn’t know he wasn’t here, honest. The last I heard from him, he turned in around nine. Long day, you know. He was out at the high school football game earlier. Here I thought he was upstairs sleeping this whole time.”

Garrison narrows his eyes, and for a moment, Alan wonders if the jig is up. Then the detective lets out a weary sigh. “Yeah, well, he wasn’t.”

“Where’s he now?” Alan leans closer, pretending to look out at Garrison’s unmarked car but really trying to catch a whiff of the detective’s cologne. Calvin Klein’s Eternity, if he isn’t mistaken. Light, sexy, and seductive. He’d love to wake up with that scent on his pillows.

Get a grip, man. He isn’t here to see you.

Well, that isn’t exactly true. He is here to see Alan, but only about Brooks being out after curfew, again. Even if he does smell damn delicious.

“In the car,” Garrison says. “Front seat, don’t worry. He isn’t under arrest.”

“Maybe he should be,” Alan mutters. This time he allows himself a quick smile to show he’s only kidding. Mostly. “Didn’t he want to get out?”

Garrison turns now, too. The driver’s side window is down, and through it Alan can almost see the long black sleeve of the hoodie Brooks likes to wear. A faint light flickers inside the vehicle; Brooks on his cell phone, texting someone or playing one of his games.

Alan leans out a little more, crossing his arms in front of his chest. The night’s chilly this late. Ducking down, he can see farther into the car, and for one brief instant, Brooks glances his way. Alan raises his voice so it carries easily across the yard. “Coming in sometime tonight then, son?”

Brooks’s dramatic sigh can be heard all the way to the porch. The phone’s light goes out; a moment later, the passenger side door opens and Brooks doesn’t step so much as fling himself out of the vehicle. Angrily the door slams shut behind him.

In a low voice only Garrison can hear, Alan murmurs, “Someone has an attitude.”

“It could be worse,” Garrison suggests.

Alan looks at the detective, who’s watching Brooks approach and can’t see the naked want Alan knows has to be written all over his face. God, this man. So close Alan could reach out and touch him, if he dared. Careful, mate, he warns himself. Don’t go scaring him away just because you’re too damn eager.
Fighting against everything in him that wants Jim Garrison, Alan tries to keep his voice steady as he asks, “How, exactly?”

Garrison shrugs, and in the gesture, Alan sees a friendliness that makes his heart sing. It’s almost familiar, as if they might be more to each other than what it looks like tonight. Garrison raises his voice a little, so Brooks can overhear. “He isn’t into drugs or alcohol or fighting. You should see some of the riff raff I have to deal with some nights.”

Brooks has closed the distance between the car and house, and now he stomps up the porch steps with exaggerated force. His pale skin stands out against his black hoodie and jeans; even his hair is black, so dark it looks almost blue under the porch light.

“He just likes to run off at all hours.” Alan reaches out and ruffles that thick, inky hair, getting in a good rub before Brooks ducks out of reach. “You’re lucky you aren’t old enough to spend the night in jail.”

Brooks glares at Alan from under his dark fringe. “If I were older, I wouldn’t be picked up for breaking curfew,” he mutters. “I don’t even know why it matters anyway. It’s Friday. I don’t have to get up early for school tomorrow.”

“Curfew’s the same every night,” Garrison says, “school or not. You know that by now. How many times have I picked you up after eleven?”

Brooks doesn’t answer, just shoves his hands in his pockets and scuffs his shoe as he frowns at the floor.

“Third time this month, innit?” Alan asks.

Brooks mumbles something under his breath.

“What’s that?” Leaning out the door, Alan cups a hand around his ear. “Speak up, son. I’m a little hard of hearing.”

Brooks glowers. “I said can I go in now? God.”

Alan can’t leave it alone. “Are you going to stay in there this time, then?”

With an aggravated sigh, Brooks pushes past Alan into the house. He storms upstairs, stomping with more force than before, if that’s possible.

Alan shares an amused smile with Garrison. “He’ll tear the house down if he isn’t careful. Thanks again for bringing him in.”

“No problem.”

Then, to Alan’s surprise, Garrison doesn’t make any move to leave.

Am I reading this right? Alan barely dares to hope.

Author Bio

J.M. Snyder is a multi-published author of gay erotic romance who started writing fanfic (specifically, boyband slash). She has worked with several different e-publishers, including Amber Allure Press and Torquere Press, and has short stories published in anthologies by Alyson Books, Cleis Press, eXcessica, and Lethe Press. In 2010, she started JMS Books LLC to promote and publish her own work as well as that of other authors she enjoys.

For more information, please visit jmsnyder.net.

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Consequences (The Elders Trilogy #2) by T.L. Travis

Buy Links: Amazon US | Amazon UK - 

Exclusive to Amazon and Available to Borrow in Kindle Unlimited

Length: 87 pages

Blurb

In book 2 of The Elders Trilogy, Consequences, our heroine Jessica Cartright has been forced to leave the life she's grown to love behind. Hunted by Rogue Vampires, a coven led by her fiancé David's mother Lourdes, the Elders Council has moved them into their protective custody.

Lourdes and her coven have made it their life's mission to see to it that David and Jess never get married. The only way she can ensure this never takes place is by ending Jess's life, no matter what it costs her in the interim.

Hunted by the council for her crimes committed against not only human kind, but their community as well, will Lourdes be able to pull off her attack and escape unscathed? Or will she and Jess succumb to the same, bloody end?

The Elders Trilogy is an erotic,paranormal/horror romance series. While this book is predominately MF, there are some bi-sexual elements including a Reverse Harem scene.

Author Bio

TL Travis is the author of The Sebastian Chronicles along with numerous other erotic novelettes (and many more in the works), The Elders Trilogy - an erotic paranormal (Vampire) romance novel series and many non-fiction articles.

In her spare time she likes to fish, enjoy all the Pacific Northwest has to offer, spin spicy erotic webs for readers to enjoy, and rescue any 4 legged lost souls she comes across. Since her children are grown and have flown the coop, she’s taken to spoiling her two deaf white boxers even more so than they were before.

To view TL Travis literary and photography works please visit her website at www.tltravis.com

TL Travis can also be followed on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/tltravisauthor
Or via twitter at http://www.twitter.com/tltravis1

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Stuck with You by Jay Northcote - Release Blitz

Buy Links: Amazon US | Amazon UK - 

Exclusive to Amazon and Available to Borrow in Kindle Unlimited

Length: 53,000 words approx.

Cover Design: Garrett Leigh @ Black Jazz Design

Buy links: Amazon US | Amazon UK

Blurb

Two clashing colleagues stuck together for Christmas—will opposites eventually attract?

Patrick has been single since he broke up with his cheating ex almost a year ago. With Christmas looming, he’s resigned to spending it alone with only memories of happier times for company. When a business trip with a co-worker leaves them stranded in the Lake District due to heavy snow, it seems Patrick will have company for Christmas after all. It’s a shame his companion is Kyle, who’s undeniably attractive, but annoying as hell.

Aware of Patrick’s reluctant admiration, Kyle basks in the attention even though Patrick isn’t the type of man he normally goes for. Averse to relationships after being hurt in the past, Kyle enjoys the occasional hook up, but has given up on seeking anything more meaningful.

Stuck together, their antagonism escalates along with a heavy dose of sexual tension until it finally ignites. What starts as a Christmas fling soon feels like something special; but will their tentative connection melt away as the snow thaws? If they’re going to take a chance on finding happiness together, they’ll have to put their differences aside and learn to trust one another.

Contains: enemies-to-lovers, snowball fights, bickering, spanking, a cute dog, a wise old lady, mistletoe, and a happy ending (of course).

Author Bio

Jay lives just outside Bristol in the West of England. 
He comes from a family of writers, but always used to believe that the gene for fiction writing had passed him by. He spent years only ever writing emails, articles, or website content.

One day, Jay decided to try and write a short story—just to see if he could—and found it rather addictive. He hasn’t stopped writing since.

Jay writes contemporary romance about men who fall in love with other men. He has been published by Dreamspinner Press, and also self-publishes under the imprint Jaybird Press. Many of his books are also available as audiobooks.

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Lost and Found - Dave & Carter - By Quin Perin - Release Blitz

Book Title: Lost and Found - A May/December Gay Romance

Author: Quin Perin

Publisher: Self-Published

Cover Artist: X Potion Designs

Genre/s: Second Chance Gay Romance

Length: 21 500 words/80 pages

It is a standalone story.

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Buy Links: Amazon Universal Link | Amazon US | Amazon UK

- Available on Kindle Unlimited

Blurb

He is...

half my age,

my son’s friend,

and he calls me Daddy.

I brought him to his knees until he did the same to me.


“He was like a greedy little puppy, trying to please me. And goddamn, I needed him to need me.”


A May/December Second Chance Romance with a sprinkle of Daddy Kink. After their first encounter in “Take it All”, Lost and Found explores how Dave and Carter’s relationship took root and blossomed.

As a standalone novella, Lost and Found features explicit adult m/m content, Daddy Kink, age gap as well as romantic elements. The book ends...well, let’s see how it ends, shall we?
 

Excerpt

“Please,” Carter begged, tears in his eyes. Desperate, that’s what he was. The schedules I’d given him worked most of the time. But he needed the physical contact.

I released his hair and cupped his jaw, fingers digging into his cheeks. “You crossed a line, boy. Now go sit on the couch and think about what you’ve done before I do something I’ll regret.”

There it was again, that daring glimmer in his eyes. His hands almost touched the thick bulge I sported, but he knew better. He receded, never breaking eye contact while I nodded and praised him, “Good boy.”

It took another fifteen minutes to clean up the kitchen and cool down. I felt sick thinking about what had just happened. Our kinky connection almost exposed because Carter loved to play with fire. He wasn’t an ordinary submissive. Not like the ones I’d read about online. He was cheeky as fuck. But there he sat, with his head bent and his hands resting on his thighs, waiting for me to come over.

“I am sorry, Daddy,” he whispered when I rounded the couch and stood in front of him.

“Look at me.”

Staring up at me from the couch, he worried his bottom lip, chewing the right side of it until it was raw and swollen. I hated that habit.

“Stop biting your lip,” I ordered and brushed my thumb over it. The moment we connected, Carter’s eyes slid closed, and the tension seemed to flow from him. It’s what he needed, my touch, my affection.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured when I dipped my thumb into his mouth, pulling his lower lip down.

“You gonna make it up to Daddy?” Arousal was beating rage into submission, shutting off my brain. I needed to punish him as much as he needed me to do it. He’d won.

I made him undo my jeans. Which he did with such enthusiasm, I almost forgot the way he’d behaved. Next, he pulled down my briefs, letting my pulsing erection jut free. He tried to catch it with his mouth, but first it slid over his cheek, a string of precum landing there. I’d never seen anything sexier.

I moaned at the way he worked me into his mouth. That tight and warm heat. That goddamn tongue teasing me. I placed my hands on the back of his head, helping him to take in more. I’d never had someone suck my cock like they fucking loved it. Until Carter did exactly that. He slurped and moaned, his hands at the back of my thighs pulling me in deeper. He was going wild, bobbing and pumping and making my knees shake. I freed my balls while he went at it, blinking up with those big brown eyes, glazed with lust.

“You’re doing so good,” I rasped, “make it up to Daddy.”

His nose nuzzled my pubes, and my balls drew up tight, the tension spiking to new heights, ready to burst. But I didn’t let him finish me. Instead, I yanked him off, eliciting a surprised cry when I spun him around on the couch so his body splayed out on top of it. Carter scrambled, waving his ass at me as though it were my prize. Which it was. But he had to learn he couldn’t risk what we had. Not like that.

Without even undoing his loose-hanging jeans, I tore them down his legs. Another yelp. His underwear and pants pooled around his knees. Gazing over his shoulder with his bare ass on display, I straddled him, my wet cock bouncing with the movement, hanging out of my undone jeans. Carter tried to prop up onto his elbows, but I pinned him down, one hand slamming between his shoulder blades.

“Stay, boy!” I hissed and rubbed my free hand over the globes of his perfect ass. I’d never seen an ass like that, so round and taut and just...yeah, perfect.

Then, the spanking began.

About the Authors

This is Quin&Perin. We are a team of Sultry Gay Romance writers who focus on detailed, toe-curling, and realistic smut scenes with a fair share of dirty talking (Oh, boy). Unlike other authors, we write without the goal of publishing anything. Publishing is just the cherry on top of a cream-covered bubble butt.

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