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Monday, December 16, 2019

Release Blitz: Wounded Martyr by Courtney Maguire


Title: Wounded Martyr
Author: Courtney Maguire
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: December 16, 2019
Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 54300
Genre: Contemporary, LGBT, Contemporary, gay, rock star, musicians, tour, drug/alcohol use, addiction, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort

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Synopsis





Ice is an asshole, but he’s working on
it. He’s two years sober, no small feat when you front a heavy metal band
facing waning popularity and dismal ticket sales. But the pieces of a life torn
apart by alcoholism are finally coming back together. His band, Wounded Martyr,
has written a great album with the potential to launch them back into relevancy.
And Ricky, probably the biggest, most important piece, has finally forgiven him
for the wreck he made of their relationship. There’s only one problem.

Ashton.

It was to be expected. As his best
friend and bandmate for almost twenty years, it’s only natural they should find
each other in the loneliness of the road. Ricky knows about their one night
together, but he doesn’t know that Ice can’t stop thinking about it, about his
long body and whiskey-flavored lips, and the guilt of it has him on the brink
of backslide. Now that Wounded Martyr is poised for a long tour, Ice must find
a way to resist temptation or risk blowing their last chance and destroying his
relationship with the two most important men in his life.


Excerpt





Wounded Martyr
Courtney Maguire © 2019
All Rights Reserved

Everything hurt.

Hiding in our dingy dressing room
toilet, back pressed against the wall between the sink and the urinal, I read
wall graffiti to take my mind off my sore joints. Black Sharpie marker slander
tucked between worn band stickers. Jake is a pussy. For a good time, call.
Someone had scrawled SUX over a Wounded Martyr sticker in the corner. An old
one. Apparently, we’d played here before. I couldn’t remember.

House music vibrated through the wall,
and I pressed my shoulder blades into it. I gave a no-smoking sign the finger
and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of my pocket. This used to be my favorite
part, the anticipation in the moments before we hit the stage. Now, I shook
with a mix of adrenaline and dread that made me queasy.

“Ice!” A familiar voice cut through the
din followed by a rapid knock on the door. “Dude, you in there?”

I popped a cigarette between my lips.
“Fuck off, I’m taking a shit.”

The door opened anyway, and in slipped
Ashton. Ash. Hair in his face and dark liner around his eyes. Deep lines framed
his mouth, but his too-long limbs made him appear perpetually boyish. The way I
would always see him. The sixteen-year-old kid playing bass in his garage.

“You can’t smoke in here.”

I scowled and shoved the cig back in the
pack.

“Dante is going to lose his shit if you
don’t get out there,” he said, closing the door behind him. Dante, our
self-appointed fearless leader. If he wasn’t such a goddamned great guitarist,
I’d kick him in the teeth.

“Dante can suck my cock.”

“Pretty sure he’s not into that.” We
shared a laugh before his eyes pinched in concern. “How’s the voice?”

“Tired,” I answered on the tail end of
an exhale.

“You can make it, man.” He stepped
toward me. “Just three more shows, and we’re home.”

“Have you seen the house?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it full?”

He pressed his lips together, and those
lines around his mouth deepened.

“Shit.”

“Don’t sweat it.” He squeezed my arm.
“It’s a big house. It would be hard for anyone to fill. Besides, we’ve played
smaller.”

I nodded, but my stomach dropped into my
toes. Sure, we’d played smaller. I remembered playing crowds of twenty people,
ten of whom hated us. But we were eighteen with nowhere to go but up, and
nothing to lose. It felt different now.

Ash’s expression softened. “What do you
need?”

A drink.

“A blow job from John Stamos.”

“You and me both.” He hooked his hand
around the back of my neck and pressed our foreheads together. “You’ll be
great,” he said. “You are great. Just another day at the office, man, you got
this.”

I leaned into him and released a long
breath. Just another day. Another day I got to play rock and roll. Living the
dream, most would say. But even dreams didn’t last forever.

“What the fuck are you two doing in
there? Put your dicks away, and let’s go,” Dante’s gruff voice shouted from the
other side of the door. Ash shot me a mischievous grin and dropped to his knees
just as the door swung open. “What the fu—”

“Be right out, Boss,” I said, but he’d
already stomped off, spitting and cursing the whole way back to the dressing
room, his bright copper skin dark with an angry flush. I gave Ash a kick with
my heel, and he rolled over backward, tangled in his own legs and howling.

“Homophobes are fun,” he said between
gasps.

“You’re a prick,” I said, but I was
smiling, my earlier dread carried away in the stream of his laughter. Dante had
left the door open, and the house music pounded through me, ringing the tuning
fork inside. It was still there, thank God. I offered Ash a hand and hauled him
up.

“Ready to go?” he asked, his hand still
wrapped in mine.

“Let’s get to work.”


Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble

Meet the Author

Courtney Maguire is a University of Texas graduate from Corpus Christi, Texas. Drawn to Austin by a voracious appetite for music, she spent most of her young adult life in dark, divey venues nursing a love for the sublimely weird. A self-proclaimed fangirl with a press pass, she combined her love of music and writing as the primary contributor for Japanese music and culture blog, Project: Lixx, interviewing Japanese rock and roll icons and providing live event coverage for appearances across the country. Her first novel, Wounded Martyr, is a 2019 RWA® Golden Heart® Finalist in the Contemporary Romance: Short Category.


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Sunday, December 15, 2019

SPOTLIGHT: Midnight Sons by Emily Carrington #shifters #romancebooks #transgender


Two Inupiat people, drawn together by passion, face violence and their own demons.


Amaruq is a FTM transgender werewolf. Though confident in his own body, he runs up against the challenges of living and loving in a college environment. These pale when compared to the violence he is subjected to.
Nootaikok is a former tracker, a killer who is looking for a new lease on life. He finds his solace in Amaruq. But when that way of life is threatened by terrorists, he must reclaim his former training, despite his demons, or see his love die.
Can Amaruq and Nootaikok’s love rise from the ashes of disaster like the storied phoenix?







EXCERPT


All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Emily Carrington
Amaruq’s birth name was Mary.
Screw that. I’ve been Amaruq to my new werewolf pack since mid-summer. Even Tilthos Charles, the alpha above all alphas in North America, calls me Amaruq. I’m no more Mary than I am female.
But he was still biologically female, at least on the outside. Damn werewolves for not knowing how to perform gender reassignment surgery. And since humans -- most of them anyway -- didn’t know werewolves, or any other magical creatures, existed, there would be no asking them for help.
Amaruq rolled his head to the right against the plane’s hard seatback and closed his eyes. Tilthos Charles calls me Amaruq. Which is a male name as well as my true name. Even if my parents call me Mary still, they’re in Anchorage and I’m, well, I’m not technically in Buffalo or even the surrounding area.
He glanced out the window at the brightness of the sky above the clouds. I’m on my way to SearchLight Academy for my second semester. And, yeah, I’m Mary on their books, but my professors don’t call me that after the first day, and my friends not since I introduced myself as Amaruq. SearchLight is much more accepting of transgender Inuit werewolves. Maybe once I have the money, I’ll get my name legally changed.
With this current bout of vitriol out of his spleen, and with a smile borne of that last idea, Amaruq fell asleep. He’d been up early, unable to sleep, and he needed a short nap. He dreamed of the short, ebony-haired Inuit shifter who had populated his dreams for some time. Being a precognitive, Amaruq had faith his dream would come true. He settled in mentally to enjoy its oft-repeated flow.
First, he found himself in a kayak in the middle of the Arctic Ocean. There were narwhals all around him, but he didn’t fear they would upset the little boat. Rather, he was comforted by their presence, as if they promised safety. But safety from what? He was perfectly well-guarded, first among his new pack and then at SearchLight Academy, where nothing out of the ordinary ever happened.
Then someone approached Amaruq in another kayak. Even though he couldn’t know, somehow he was sure this was another shifter, like him, and yet different. Amaruq transformed into a wolf when he chose. This shifter was… something else… when he changed.
The other’s broad face and short stature called to mind all the pictures of Inuits he’d seen since he started trying to research his heritage, and of course the features reminded him of himself and his family. But where his family kept their hair neatly cut in Western style, this one’s hair was wild as he pushed back the hood of his parka.
“Amaruq.” He always knew Amaruq’s chosen name without having to be told. “Come to the shore with me.”
They reached land much more quickly than was possible but this never bothered Amaruq. They hauled their kayaks up on the beach so they wouldn’t wash away. Then the shifter took off his gloves and cupped the sides of Amaruq’s face. “You’re handsome.”
“What’s your name?”
The shifter laughed. “You’ll know when it’s time.” And he kissed Amaruq.
Over thirty and never been kissed before. I’m like that movie, Forty-Year-Old Virgin.
Amaruq relished the kiss. It might only be a dream, but he felt sure real kissing would be just like this. Soft at first, gentle, persuasive, and utterly compelling. Then, as the shifter nudged Amaruq’s lips open with his tongue, it was impossible not to fall into the play of mouths. As one tongue slid over another, touching teeth, and those same teeth nibbling the bottom of Amaruq’s lip… His whole body woke with passion. He was wet between his legs. And, oh, even though he normally hated thinking of his sex, right now he adored the way the shifter made him feel. Like he was being lit up from the inside. Not as with fire, but as with a thousand fireflies. Or even the Northern Lights.
When his lover drew back, Amaruq was breathless with need. “Please,” he whispered every time he had this dream. “Please…”
“What do you want? Tell me the truth.”
“Your name.”
The shifter tsked. “No, that’s not what you truly crave. Tell me the truth.”
And, as he always did, Amaruq confessed, “I want to know when I’ll see you for real.”
“Today.”
This was such a divergent path from the usual ambiguous answer that Amaruq gaped. And he startled awake. It might have been the airplane’s wheels hitting the tarmac that woke him, but he doubted it. His dream lover’s startling promise was what did it. Looking down at his hands where they were fisted in his lap, Amaruq whispered, “Let it be today.”