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Sunday, December 27, 2020

New Release Blitz: Home Ice Advantage by K.R. Collins #LGBTQ #SportsRomance @kcollins1394

 

Title: Home Ice Advantage

Series: Sophie Fournier, Book Four

Author: K.R. Collins

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 12/21/2020

Heat Level: 1 - No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 86100

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, Contemporary, sports, romance, lesbian, gay, bisexual, demisexual, ice hockey, coach, teammates, slow burn

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Description

Winning the Maple Cup has always been Sophie Fournier’s dream, ever since she was a little girl watching hockey in her grandparents’ basement. She isn’t satisfied after a season where she won hockey’s biggest prize. She wants to hoist the Cup again, in back-to-back seasons. She’s done it once before and, like any good hockey player, she knows to repeat a successful formula in order to find success again.

Only, this season is determined to be nothing like the last. Coach Butler breaks up not only the top line which drove their success, but he splits Sophie and Elsa. She’s cut off from her favorite winger on the ice and off it, Elsa begins to date, leaving Sophie on her own. And with this being a Winter Games year, their NAHL season is halted for international play. For the first time since becoming teammates, Sophie will compete against Elsa for a gold medal.

It’s a year of change and Sophie hates it. She knows what worked to win the Cup the previous season. Now, with multiple factors working against her, including her own coach, she has to figure out a new way to win the Cup. If she can’t, it will be her shoulders the blame falls on.

Excerpt

Home Ice Advantage
K.R. Collins © 2020
All Rights Reserved

“Let’s talk expectations. What do you want out of your contract?”

“Eight years, nine point three million a year,” Sophie answers. She did her research. It might be her first real contract, but she’s Sophie Fournier. She’s the first woman drafted into the North American Hockey League, she’s the captain of the Concord Condors, she led the League in points for two of her three seasons, and a month ago she led her team to their first-ever Maple Cup.

There’s a long silence on the other line, and she checks to make sure her agent is still there.

“Let’s talk realistic expectations,” he finally says. “Cut both those numbers in half.”

It’s Sophie’s turn to be stunned into silence. Hers doesn’t last as long. “Half? At least women outside of hockey make seventy-five cents to a man’s dollar.”

“Sophie—”

“Half?” she demands. “I ran the numbers. It wouldn’t be out of line to ask for ten million. Dima’s being offered at least ten, and he’s a winger, and he doesn’t have a Maple Cup to his name.”

“You can’t compare yourself to Dmitri Ivanov. You can’t compare yourself to anyone. Whatever numbers you ran, toss them out. They’re based on your male counterparts. We’re starting from scratch.”

“I did not fight as hard as I did to make it to and succeed in this league to be told I’m worth half of a man. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“Of course, I’m on your side but you have to be realistic.”

She hangs up. It isn’t her best moment, and her guilt is almost enough to call back. But then she shoves her phone in her pocket and stomps into the kitchen where she pauses, scowl frozen on her face. Her mom and five other women are gathered around the island counter. There are piles of fruits and vegetables, multiple cutting boards, and three blenders. Sophie recognizes two of the women as neighbors. She played street hockey with their kids growing up.

“Oh, Sophie,” Mrs. Milchard greets. “We’re making smoothies. I bet you have all sorts of tips.”

Sophie smiles, automatic, but it’s strained. “I’ve made a few in my day. I’m actually about to go for a run, but if you still have questions when I’m back, I’ll answer them.”

“And test them.”

Sophie nods and flees upstairs to change. She hadn’t planned on going for a run but now she has to. She switches her T-shirt for a racerback and tugs her sweatpants off. She pauses as she pulls her shorts up. She has new ink. One hip has a pair of crossed hockey sticks. There’s a small 93 to the left of the sticks, because it’s the number she wears on the ice. This tattoo was a present to herself years ago. Her new one is on the other hip. It now says 2013-2014 in honor of their Maple Cup win.

Her win? Concord’s win? She is the captain and cornerstone of Concord’s franchise. She wants to be a Condor forever. But, if she believes her agent, Concord won’t offer the kind of deal given to players of her caliber.

She buries her contract thoughts as she pulls her hair up into a ponytail. She takes the stairs by two but doesn’t make it through the kitchen unnoticed.

“Are you going around the block?” her mom asks.

“The park, probably.” She wants to run trails, disappear into the woods until the only people she sees are ones training for marathons or running with their dogs, people who won’t want to stop and chat.

“Then you should take this with you.” Her mom hands Sophie a Gatorade and a bag of pretzels. “You’ll have your phone, right?”

Sophie holds up her phone in answer. She takes the snack and gives her mom a kiss. “Have fun juicing.”

She escapes to the woods, turns her music up, and runs until there’s no space in her head for thoughts. By the time she’s back at her car, her skin is slick with sweat, and she’s grateful for the pretzels. She sits on the curb as the sun beats down on her back. Sweat drips down her spine and dries on her arms, sticky, proof she worked hard. She musters up enough energy to stretch and then drives home.

There are still cars along the curb. She pulls up behind an SUV and takes the keys out of her ignition. Her gym card dangles from the key ring. She turns the car back on and drives down the street. She did her weight training this morning before her call with her agent, so she just uses the gym’s showers, changes into one of the many spare sets of clothes she keeps in her car, and drives to the store.

She goes through the salad bar, loading up a plastic container for herself and one for Colby. It’s on the early side for lunch so she picks up a few things for dinner. On the way to the checkout, she pauses at the Maple Cup display. She’s used to seeing Winnipeg Porcupine gear at home with the sparse collection of shirseys for other Canadian teams. Even Quebec carries Team Canada Ducasse shirseys, though they refuse to stock his Montreal merch.

But in the heart of Thunder Bay, Ontario, there’s a rack of Concord Condors Maple Cup gear. There are shirts with the Cup on the front and the whole roster on the back. There’s one with New Hampshire reshaped to look like the Cup. There are even a few shirseys. Sophie finds a number 13 and traces the NYBERG on the back.

She takes a picture and sends it to Elsa, knowing she’ll get a kick out of it. She’s tempted to buy the shirt and mail it to Lenny Dernier. He’ll have an on-air meltdown when he realizes the good Canadian province of Ontario is stocking fan-wear with a foreigner’s name on it.

Like most Canadian kids, Sophie was glued to the TV when Lenny Dernier came on to host his program after games. Only, as the years have passed and the game has changed, Dernier hasn’t. He clings to an era of hockey where a majority of the players were Canadians and where there were often as many, or more, fights than goals in a game. Back when hockey was a man’s sport.

She’s learned to tune him out, or mute him, these days. He sometimes tolerates Sophie because she had the good sense to be born Canadian even if she is a woman. But he hates Elsa, because he thinks Swedes are lazy, and he really hates Lexie. The last one Sophie finds hilarious, because he hates her for being crass and too aggressive, traits he would praise her for if she were a man. She dropped an f-bomb on live television once, caught up in the adrenaline of a big win, and he declared her a bad role model for all Canadian children.

She would probably find his shtick funnier if he didn’t believe it. And if he didn’t have a loyal following. Sophie’s rookie season saw the Clayton Trophy, the award given to the top rookie, as a competition between Dmitri Ivanov, herself, and Victor Serov. Two Russians and a woman. Dernier was apoplectic. He’s back on his “end of hockey as we know it” rant because this year the three Clayton nominees were two Americans and a Swede. He’s apparently looking to help fund Canada’s youth hockey program in order to restore their country to greatness.

It’s bullshit.

Elsa calls as Sophie goes through the self-checkout. “Did you buy it?”

“Why would I need to buy it? Do you know how many of your shirts I have? I swear you left half your wardrobe.”

“Are you wearing one right now?”

“No.” Though it’s an idea. Maybe if she wears a Nyberg shirsey everywhere, people won’t recognize her. She weighs her salad, weighs Colby’s, and places them in her reusable bag.

“See, you don’t have enough.”

Sophie checks to see what she actually is wearing. There’s a porcupine on the front which means it’s left over from her bantam days. “I’m in a knockoff Winnipeg shirt.”

“Gross.”

“Your face is gross.” She finishes scanning her items and pays.

“You miss my face.”

She does but she won’t admit it. She first met Elsa Nyberg when they were opponents at a U-Tourney. Sophie was there representing Canada; Elsa was there for Sweden. She left the tournament with the gold medal and without knowing the impact she had on Sweden’s rising star. Now, they’re teammates in the NAHL. Last year, they won the Cup together. “What’re you up to?”

“Family picnic.” Elsa sighs as if it’s a burden, but Sophie knows she hoards all the time she can spend with her family in the offseason. “Patric and Henrik want to play basketball.”

Sophie laughs as Elsa complains about how her cousins like all the wrong sports. By the time Elsa’s dragged away to participate, Sophie feels better. Of course, once she hangs up, her car is too quiet, not even the radio playing softly in the background.

I have family to see too. And before I know it, Elsa and I will be back in Concord together.

When she arrives at Colby’s office, she’s surprised to be greeted by the receptionist. Too late, it occurs to her dropping by to visit Colby isn’t the same as dropping by a hockey rink. Her steps falter.

The receptionist, whose nameplate says Dianne, offers her a smile. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Uh, no. I’m here to see my brother, but I can call him.”

“Then I’d be out of a job. Have a seat, dear. I’ll call Colby and let him know you’re here.”

“How’d you know I’m Colby’s sister?”

“Everyone here knows who you are. We had office viewing parties. Congratulations, by the way.”

Sophie sits in one of the wingback chairs and picks up an out-of-date hunting magazine. She opens it but doesn’t read a single word. Colby comes down the side hallway after she’s flipped a few pages. He’s in slacks and a nice dress shirt. If his hair was gelled within an inch of its life, he’d look ready to board the bus for an away game. Instead, he has a legal pad tucked under his arm and his phone in hand.

“Hi Dianne. I’m on my way to the sales meeting. What’s up?”

She points and Sophie sets the magazine down. She feels conspicuously out of place in her running clothes. She fishes Colby’s salad out of her bag. “I was in the area.”

“I have a meeting.”

“It’s okay.” She holds the salad out to him. “Mom had friends over. They’re juicing so I needed to escape before I became a test subject. Uh, good luck in your meeting.”

“We’re trying to figure out how to boost our numbers. Cross-selling might be the key. You don’t care about this. Sorry.”

“I care.” Well, she cares because he does. But this is a completely unknown world to her. She wants to spend the next fifteen years of her life in the NAHL and then become a coach or advisor to a team, find a way to stay involved in the sport.

Colby’s hockey career ended after college. He plays in a men’s league now, but his days are spent here. It’s a world she doesn’t understand. And, after years of having hockey connecting them, she doesn’t know how to talk to him. Does he resent her for still playing when he can’t? She’s living their childhood dream, and he’s stuck here—cubicles and meetings.

She clears her throat. “I don’t want to make you late. I’ll see you for dinner sometime this week?”

Another change. Colby’s moved out of their parents’ house. He has an apartment and a new girlfriend, Charlotte, and her name is everything Sophie knows about her. A job, his own apartment, a girlfriend, her brother’s growing up, and Sophie feels left behind.

“Absolutely.” He lifts his salad in a thank-you and hurries back the way he came.

It leaves Sophie with an environmentally friendly bag with only her lunch in it now.

“Nice shirt.” Dianne nods at the porcupine logo. “Your contract is up. Any chance you’re signing with Winnipeg?”

“Probably not.” And she should go through her spare clothes to make sure any hockey clothes she wears bear Concord’s logo. She doesn’t want to start any rumors.

Dianne nods as if she was expecting the answer. “Concord would be stupid to let you go. Maybe next contract. It’ll be a big homecoming.”

Sophie offers a parting smile and slips out.

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Meet the Author

K.R. Collins went to college in Pennsylvania where she learned to write and fell in love with hockey. When she isn’t working or writing, she watches hockey games and claims it’s for research. Find K.R. on Twitter.

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Thursday, December 24, 2020

New Release Blitz: Limits and Stakes by Jacqueline Grey eroticromance #LGBTQ @jacqueline_grey

 

Title: Limits and Stakes

Series: Suit of Harte's, Book Three

Author: Jacqueline Grey

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 12/21/2020

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 32500

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, BDSM, Gay, Erotic Romance, Contemporary, Exhibitionism, Bondage, Sensation Play, Professor/Student

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Description

Professor Danny Stone doesn’t date students. Though the university does not forbid such relationships, he’d rather be safe than sorry, but with his sparkling blue eyes and silky blond hair, Christopher Owen is a temptation begging him to break the rules. He already bent them when he kissed Chris over winter break.

Spring break will be different. Danny’s plan is to spend the week at a BDSM club a few towns over. Playing with a sub or two who have no connection to his university will do him a world of good, and he can put Chris out of his mind.

But when the first sub that catches his eye turns out to be Christopher, Danny’s willpower is put to the ultimate test. Chris is brand new to the scene and feels safest with Danny. Will Danny be able to introduce him to the wonders of BDSM without crossing too many lines? Or will fate pull them together and show them sometimes rules are destined to be broken?

Excerpt

Limits and Stakes
Jacqueline Grey © 2020
All Rights Reserved

It was spring break, and Daniel Stone was enjoying a full week of student-free days. Dressed head-to-toe in tight black leather and itching to play, Daniel entered the Lock & Key. The club wasn’t as big as the one he’d been a member of before moving to Georgia, and membership wasn’t as exclusive, but it was well-recommended, and the staff kept an eye out for the patrons. Most of the members seemed to be well-versed in the lifestyle as well, enough to give him the confidence that, if he were to play with someone, they would at least know what they were doing or say something if they didn’t.

The club was a sufficient distance from where he worked, so he didn’t have to worry about being spotted as a familiar face outside of the scene. A BDSM club in a college town was not where a professor wanted to be found, no matter how liberal the residents claimed to be. A five-hour drive and the expense of a hotel room for the week was a worthy price for freedom.

He ordered a bottle of water and scanned the crowd for potential company. A small group of men caught his eye. Two of the three he disregarded immediately, but the third, a lean blond in the skimpiest pair of leather shorts he’d ever seen, held his attention. He was unable to tear his gaze from all that pale skin or the way the leather hugged his perfectly round bottom.

The boy was obviously new to the scene. There was uncertainty in his movements, but he was doing his best to keep up the conversation. Daniel had full confidence the young man would succeed. Anyone brave enough to go out in public in shorts like those could hold a simple conversation.

When the group moved toward the bar, Daniel finally saw the young man’s face. He froze in surprise. Of the students crowding Georgia State University campus, he now faced the one he’d wanted to avoid the most, the one he wanted to forget. Against his better judgment, he intercepted the group.

“Chris,” he said.

Chris Owen looked up at him, startled. His eyes widened in recognition, and his mouth fell open.

“Pr—” He stopped himself just in time. “Mr. Stone.”

Relief flooded through Daniel. He preferred to keep his daily life separate from the club and was glad it would remain that way.

“You know this kid?” asked one of the men. He stood too close to Chris for Daniel’s liking.

“Yes.” Daniel resisted the impulse to claim anything more. He had no right to claim anything, but his instincts wouldn’t let him back down completely. “My apologies for the interruption. I wasn’t aware Chris planned to be here today.”

The stranger scrutinized the young man, paying particular attention to his neck. “He’s not marked.”

“I’m instructing him,” Daniel said. Well, he had been. For half a semester, he’d tutored Chris in advanced calc, but that had changed after winter break. Either way, the details didn’t apply here. He clutched at straws with half-truths, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to know why Chris was there and what he had in mind. He wanted to keep the boy safe.

He wanted to keep him.

No. He’s a student. You promised him two months ago nothing would happen between the two of you, and now you’re trying to put a collar on him? Get a grip, Stone!

“Of course, he’s free to choose who he goes with,” Daniel added, attempting to pull himself out of the hole he’d been digging.

The other man looked at Chris expectantly. Chris flickered his eyes back and forth between them, seemingly lost on how to answer. Daniel put a hand on his shoulder.

“You can continue to the bar as you were, or you can take a tour of the club with me. Which do you want to do? There is no wrong choice.”

“I…” Chris’s gaze locked on Daniel’s. “I…” He swallowed. “I want to go with you.”

There was a tsk from behind Chris, but Daniel ignored it. He also did his best to ignore the sense of triumph running through him.

“Follow me,” he said and headed toward the bar.

“I thought we were going for a tour.”

“One step at a time, boy.” Daniel ordered another water, then scanned the room for somewhere to sit. When the bartender put the drink on the counter, Daniel left it for Chris to pick up and led the way toward the table he’d found. He was glad to hear the crinkle of plastic as Chris followed. The seating he’d chosen had a semblance of privacy. Daniel took the chair against the wall and gestured for Chris to take the other.

“Now, I take it this is what you meant about trying new things over spring break?” he asked.

The boy flushed red. “I… Yes. I’ve always wanted to come here and finally worked up the courage to do it.”

“You did more than that.” Daniel dropped a pointed glance in the direction of Chris’s shorts.

The color in Chris’s face deepened. “You’re not gonna tell anyone, are you?”

“I believe a person’s private life is their own business.”

“Thanks.”

Daniel took a sip of his water. After a moment, Chris did the same. Daniel caught himself staring when Chris licked his lips. He’d kissed that mouth.

The small details of that moment were forever embedded in his mind. One evening during winter break, they’d come across each other outside the math building on campus. He couldn’t recall why they’d lingered. All he remembered was huddling in his coat against the winter chill and then not caring about the weather as he became entranced by the puffs of air dancing between them as they spoke, the rosy color on Chris’s cheeks, and the sparkle in his clear blue eyes. There had been silence all around them when the conversation had hit a lull and a pull, an irresistible urge that had driven him to kiss a student. Granted, Chris was a grad student and not in any of Daniel’s classes, but Daniel had been his tutor at the time. Even if he hadn’t, Chris was still a student at the college where Daniel worked, and that wasn’t something Daniel was comfortable with. Recklessness led to trouble, and so he’d pulled away. Yet here was that face again, looking at him so openly as if the kiss had never happened and Daniel hadn’t ruined an innocent student-teacher relationship.

He mentally shook himself from his reverie. “Did you have anything in mind when you came here tonight, or was getting through the door the main goal?”

Chris’s blush deepened. “That seemed to be a big enough goal to start with.”

“Now that you’ve accomplished it, what do you plan to do next?”

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Jacqueline Grey currently lives on an island on the east coast of the United States. She spends her time outside her day job juggling her many interests which include reading, writing and drinking tea. She loves M/M romance, usually focusing on stories that include BDSM themes to one degree or another. 

Jacqueline has always been driven by characters. She loves a good plot, but it’s the characters that pull her into a story. She loves romance and believes everyone has a right to be happy. She enjoys seeing her characters find that happiness for themselves.

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Wednesday, December 23, 2020

New Release Blitz: Retrograde by Desiree Holt #eroticromance #suspense @desireeholt

 

Retrograde by Desiree Holt

General Release Date: 22nd December 2020

Heat Rating: Burning
Format: EBOOK
ISBN: 978-1-83943-470-9
Sexometer: 2
Word Count: 80,672
Language: English
Book Length: SUPER NOVEL
Pages: 297
Genres: CONTEMPORARY, EROTIC ROMANCE, THRILLERS AND SUSPENSE

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Book Description

Hot ex-military, desperate woman, tight conspiracy…wait for the explosion!

Peyton West is desperate. Her brother-in-law is dead, her sister is in a coma and no one seems interested in finding any answers. With every door slammed in her face, she’s referred to Scott “Blaze” Hamilton and the men from super-secret Galaxy.

Conducting meetings on a plane and digging into the underbelly of Tampa politics, she sees a ray of hope…and discovers Blaze lives up to his name in more ways than one. She crosses her fingers that the scorching sex will continue to blaze once the killer is found.

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of violence, murder and attempted murder.

Excerpt

Well, didn’t this just turn out to be a clusterfuck.

“They’re gaining on us,” John ‘Rocket’ Hardin called from the rear of the van.

“I’m pushing this baby as hard as it will go,” Matt ‘Viper’ Roman ground out.

The tension inside the van was so thick they could almost see it. Disaster was always waiting for them around the corner, but Scott ‘Blaze’ Hamilton knew if anyone could get them to the exfil point, it was Viper. No one could outdrive him.

“Damn it,” Blaze swore under his breath.

A previous rescue attempt by another group had failed and put the hostages in jeopardy. That was always when Galaxy was called. When Blaze had done his research, he’d learned that the only reason the hostages were still alive was because the kidnappers needed them to make sure the ransom was paid. At first, it had sounded like a by-the-book rescue. Jim and Nita Rosen, one of America’s one-percenter couples with money to burn, had been kidnapped for ransom. Their daughter, Angela, afraid her parents would be killed if she called in the FBI, had paid it, but the jerkoffs had come back and asked for more.

When the first people she’d hired had botched the job, that was when she’d turned to Galaxy.

For the four highly trained former SEALs, this should have been a simple retrieval. Tapping into every source, they were unhappy to learn that the kidnappers were less than sophisticated. They were offshoots of a cartel whose leader was barely second tier and had big ideas about establishing himself. Kidnapping was his prime source of income while he built up enough of a bank to take on the big cartel chiefs. These people were the most dangerous kind, since they had oversized egos and small brains. The crew who worked for him came from the dregs, which meant things could easily go wrong.

Reaching out to all their contacts, they’d gotten the location where the Rosens were being held—an old warehouse just outside the little town of San Felipe. Only two guards were on duty at any one time, an indication of the kidnappers’ stupidity and arrogance. The one good thing was that the so-called brains behind this kidnapping only showed up once a day, about midday, to check on their victims. It certainly sounded like amateur hour to Galaxy, but sometimes those were the ones that went sideways.

After a drive-by to scope the place out and take pictures, the team planned the operation. They would breach the building, grab the Rosens and get the hell out of there in their borrowed van before the leader and the rest of the bad guys showed up for their daily visit.

‘Saint’ Francis, their official pilot, would be waiting for them at an extraction point with the helicopter.

Easy peasy, right?

Wrong.

As they’d learned in the military, if something can go wrong it will.

FUBAR.

Fucked up beyond all repair.

Especially with kidnappers like these, who were not very smart.

At first, it was smooth sailing. Only one vehicle, an old car, was parked by the warehouse. They knew from their source that this was the one driven by the two men left to guard the Rosens, so they were good to go. Using an infrared scanner, they were able to determine the location inside of the guards—away from the captives, sitting near the entrance to the warehouse. Breaching the door was kindergarten work for them, as was disposing of the guards before the two knew what was happening. They grabbed the Rosens and hustled them out to their waiting van.

Just as ‘Viper’, their designated wheelman, cranked the engine, a car drove up to the warehouse. Three well-armed and unpleasant-looking men tumbled out, even before the vehicle had come to a stop. One looked to be in charge, pointing at the Galaxy van, and at once the others began shooting at them. They pulled out onto the road before the doors were even fully shut, but the other vehicle was after them at once. Blaze thought there must be a hell of a motor in that thing, because they barely got out to the road before the other vehicle was practically on their tail.

Now they were racing down the two-lane road to the extraction spot with shots from the vehicle behind them peppering the van they were using. It pissed Blaze off that a cheap-ass operation like this one had managed to grab two high-value targets and get away with it. But even more, that best-of-the-best Galaxy was barely escaping a deadly showdown.

“Fuck it all,” Viper cursed.

“It’s true, you know,” Blaze reminded his partners. “The only easy day was yesterday.”

“And today will be our last,” Rocket snapped at him, “if we let ourselves get beaten by these pieces of shit.”

“Never fear. The Viper is here.”

Viper was swerving back and forth to avoid the bullets as they sped down the road at a speed that would dry the spit in the mouth of most people.

“Yeah?” Blaze shifted in his seat. “Well, get us the fuck out of here, then.”

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About the Author



Desiree Holt

A multi-published, award winning, Amazon and USA Today best-selling author, Desiree Holt has produced more than 200 titles and won many awards. She has received an EPIC E-Book Award, the Holt Medallion and many others including Author After Dark’s Author of the Year. She has been featured on CBS Sunday Morning and in The Village Voice, The Daily Beast, USA Today, The Wall Street Journal, The London Daily Mail. She lives in Florida with her cats who insist they help her write her books, and is addicted to football. 

 You can follow Desiree on Facebook and Twitter and check out her Blog.

 

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DESIREE HOLT IS GIVING AWAY THIS FABULOUS PRIZE TO ONE LUCKY WINNER. ENTER HERE FOR YOUR CHANCE TO WIN A LOVELY GOODIE BAG AND GRAB YOUR FREE DESIREE HOLT ROMANCE BOOK! Notice: This competition ends on 31th December 2020 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.

Monday, December 21, 2020

New Release Blitz: Love Logan by Tilly Keyes #LGBTQ #SciFi @GoIndiMarketing

 

Title: Love Logan

Author: Tilly Keyes

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 12/21/2020

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 69100

Genre: Science Fiction, LGBTQIA+, time travel, action/adventure, enemies to lovers, humorous, interspecies

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Description

Zero’s teleportation machine is the talk of the town, but opening night, it fails, leaving him a laughingstock. However, unknowingly, the machine pulls someone from the twentieth century and spits them out in Zero’s time.

Logan has strange, dull clothing and bland hair, and when he opens his mouth, it gets worse. He’s afraid of everything, but worst of all, his talk of love grates on Zero’s nerves.

He vows to fix the machine and send Logan home no matter what. Zero’s best friend, Honey, has other ideas. Despite Logan being terrified of her and labeling her a cat-person, she finds his talk of love enlightening.

With Logan about to go home, Zero needs to realize there’s more to life than going down in history before it’s too late.

Excerpt

Love Logan
Tilly Keyes © 2020
All Rights Reserved

Each shuffle of clothing and stomp of impatient feet increased Zero’s thumping heart. The curtain muffled the words of the audience, but they increased in volume until a unified grumble shook Zero’s bones. Being ten minutes late was part of his plan to build anticipation, but he hadn’t envisioned the wait would have him close to fainting from nerves.

Zero pursed his lips and exhaled slowly. He brushed his sweat-soaked palms on his suit, then removed his top hat and wiped his brow on his sleeve. He wanted to wear something more flamboyant with tassels and twinkling lights, but he softened his look and chose a stripped black-and-silver suit, and his trusty black top hat. The night was all about his invention, and he dressed down to put all emphasis on it.

“This is such a bad idea.”

Honey’s words pulled him from his thoughts, and he turned to her, widening his eyes.

“You’re here for support, not to further my anxiety.”

Zero could see her normal ellipse shaped pupils had narrowed to a line of black, splitting her lime irises in two. She was afraid for him, and he couldn’t deny that fear when his heart tried to escape his chest.

“If—If only you’d tested the machine.”

Zero pushed his hat firmly on his head. “I have tested it.”

“But never like this. You haven’t done this with a living thing—”

“It will work,” Zero said.

Honey gripped his arm. “But what if it doesn’t?”

He frowned and glanced at her paw that gripped his arm. She blinked then retracted her claws with a softly spoken apology.

“This is my moment. I can feel it in my bones. My life is about to change.”

“Dying is life changing, life ending,” she replied.

Zero shook his head. “I won’t die—hopefully I won’t die, and if I do, I hope it will be quick.”

“What if you walk through and only half of you appears on the other side?”

Zero lifted his hand and tilted it one way and then the other. “Well, if that happens, I’ll die quickly, so it’s not so bad.”

Honey hissed and flattened her ears. “Don’t make jokes.”

“I wasn’t joking,” he said, turning to face her. “If it goes wrong and I die, then you know I died doing what meant the most to me. Besides, I couldn’t live with the shame of a failure, so let’s hope it is either roaring success and I appear in the opposite arch or it’s unable to put my atoms back together and I die instantly.”

Honey shut her eyes and bowed forward. Zero rubbed at her arms, but she didn’t straighten to look at him. She sagged further.

“I can’t go out there until I see your smile,” he whispered.

She sniffled and shook her head. “I don’t feel like smiling.”

“Please Honey, for me. I need to see it. You’re my lucky charm.”

“Fine,” she said with a huff. “But you better not die.”

Zero thought better than making that promise. It was a strong possibility, not that he admitted it to her.

Honey lifted her head and twitched her cheeks. Her nose rose, and two daggered teeth showed through her narrow lips.

“Thank you,” Zero said.

The second the words left him, her smile dropped, and she breathed heavily through her nose.

“Right,” he said and clutched his lapels. “Here I go.”

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Tilly lives in a small village in the UK, surrounded by fields, and meadows. By day, she’s looks after her two lively boys, but by night…she’s usually asleep, too exhausted to write, but sometimes she gets lucky, sometimes she settles down with a nice cup of tea and sinks into a story. 

She hopes you enjoy them. Let her know by sending her an eMail.

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Wednesday, December 16, 2020

Release Blitz: That Distant Dream by Laurel Beckley #SciFi #LGBTQ @laurelthereader

 

Title: That Distant Dream

Series: The Satura Trilogy, Book One

Author: Laurel Beckley

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: December 14, 2020

Heat Level: 1 - No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 65600

Genre: Science Fiction, LGBTQIA+, science fiction, sci-fi, military scifi, cliffhanger, other-world, military, PTSD, war

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Synopsis

After her escape pod is found drifting through debris nearly two decades after the end of the Redelki Wars, Melin is woken from cryosleep to find a galaxy where she no longer belongs. The galaxy has moved on from the horrors she experienced, the experiences that transformed her into a hero while she slept, but she hasn’t.

Alone, broken in mind and body, Melin is slowly pulled to the planet of her ancestors. She just wants a fresh start. A chance to end the dreams plaguing her sleep. A chance for answers. For new beginnings. For a life lived in oblivion where no one knows her name or what she did.

But Satura is a planet at war. And there are no fresh starts for heroes.

Excerpt

That Distant Dream
Laurel Beckley © 2020
All Rights Reserved

The shuttle jerked violently to the left, shuddered as both engines made the distinct whine of crystal overload, shrieked, and died.

Someone in the back screamed as the craft tumbled, rolling wildly through the atmosphere.

Melin gripped her armrests, squeezed her eyes shut as she willed her breath to remain steady. Hyperventilation would kill her faster.

She tried focusing on what that quack psychoanalyst claimed were “soothing” mantras as the onsetting gravity of reentry sucked her into her seat at a pace faster than the cheap civilian gravity suit could compensate. Breathe, breathe, breathe.

A distant corner of her brain—the one not occupied with breathing, muscle tension, and avoiding G-LOC—remembered a military-grade ship suit wouldn’t have had this problem. Her old space armor would have allowed her to carve a hole out of this blasted shuttle and free dive planetside. She sucked a tight inhale through clenched teeth, chest burning. Think of the positive.

Then she remembered she’d never link in with a set of space armor ever again, and she was back where she’d started.

On a free-falling shuttle with a one-way ticket to the ground.

The shuttle flipped, gaining a moment of antigravity that triggered a spate of relief—and retching and sobbing and fervent prayers—for its passengers.

The shuttle rolled again, nose pointing down.

Melin’s vision tunneled, graying at the edges.

I will not die like this.

A jolt of energy passed through her, setting her fingers on fire and dissolving her vision into sparkling blue light. An engine sputtered, hissed, and restarted with a ferocious roar.

As quickly as the onset had begun, the shuttle leveled in its descent, catching before it hit too steep of a reentry and turned them into a smear of fire and ash across the sky.

The shipboard gravity slackened to a bearable weight, and Melin heaved in a grateful sigh. Her chest hitched as she inhaled too far, and she leaned forward, instinctively slapping her chest to release the five-point harness as her lungs burned and shuddered with a coughing fit. The gravity was still too heavy, and she tumbled forward into the seat in front of her, wheezing.

“You all right, sero?” her seatmate asked with all the sincerity of a corpse. His gray face looked like it had aged thirty years in ten seconds.

Melin waved a hand between coughs, focusing on breathing. In and out and in and out, settle your chest, you aren’t going to die. You just survived a weird shuttle mishap. A little coughing fit is nothing. And when you get your shit together, you can tell this asshat to address you as an adult, not a child.

Eventually, her inhales matched her exhales. Unthinking, she wiped her mouth with her left hand—the flesh still new and tingly from the regen. Fuck. Everything felt new and fresh and raw. She sucked in a rattling breath.

The last set of skin grafts had done wonders to fix the burn scars. She looked like new. On the outside. Her insides were old, brittle, and breaking with every wracking cough, every interminable second. At least she had control of her bodily functions again. Melin shook her head and rubbed her temples with her right hand, feeling the calluses of her finger pads brush against her forehead. She carefully tucked her left hand against her side. A cobbled together golem, that’s what she was now.

“It’s like this on every jump,” her seatmate said. He straightened in his seat as if trying to gather his composure. Melin grimaced. Of course he hadn’t passed out.

Melin ignored him, leaning into her seat and fumbling with the straps.

He had introduced himself as Diplomatic Corpsmember Undersecretary Obidiah Calderon when they’d first boarded after he’d squeezed his body into the jump chair beside hers. His thigh touched hers even now, oozing over the seat. He’d been assigned to a backwoods planet of minor significance that would make or break his career. As if to emphasize his importance and larger stature, his thighs were spread wide, invading her space and pushing her further into the cramped window seat.

“Almost like the planet doesn’t want us here,” he added when he had obviously failed to pique her interest. “But we still land safely—80 percent of the time.”

She nodded absently and turned to the windows, which were untinted now they were in the upper atmosphere, revealing more gray clouds. At least this shuttle had windows. Tactical combat shuttles had no windows, and—Melin shook her head, trying to physically toss aside those memories. Those times were long past, and she was on a clean slate.

What clean slate she had left.

A fresh start, she’d resolved to think of it when she’d boarded the starship to this sector of Intergalactic Association of Sentient Species space.

A fresh start, take eleven or so.

She’d lost count somewhere around clean slate number five.

But there was no true fresh start for someone who’d received the highest awards in the IASS not once but twice. It had been two years since she’d woken from cryo, and the novelty of her circumstances had worn off. At first, she’d been shepherded from place to place; the long-lost treasure recovered. Although it certainly hadn’t helped IASS fleet when she’d punched that reporter immediately upon her release from the swank veterans’ hospital they’d stashed her in during her long recovery. And the state dinner where she’d spazzed when the servers popped the bubbly. One of the poor busboys wouldn’t walk ever again.

The brass stopped trying to mold her into a puppet, had stopped trying to point her along a destined path. Reporters stopped following her when they’d realized there would be no story.

She was all past with no future. She was even ruined for further military service. No one wanted to work with an operator who couldn’t even use a suit. Who couldn’t do five-dimensional math. Who couldn’t take an implant ever again.

Melin closed her eyes, forehead resting against the cool plex-glass.

She’d failed at every single thing they’d set her to since her waking.

Now, more than ever, she wanted nothing more than to just slide off into the background. She wanted to be something less than a footnote in history.

She wanted to be nothing.

Because without an implant, she was nothing.

Cranial implants had been enhancing humanity for generations. Nearly everyone had one—generally put in at birth or when they took their qualification exams upon entering adulthood. Few people failed to take an implant—although there were several religions focused on maintaining the purity of the human body.

Unimplanted people were rare because there were no jobs beyond the most menial for them. Entire families would scrounge for years for the cheapest model to implant their children and send them to school for a better future and for their children to turn around and raise up their parents in return.

But no one at the upper levels wanted to chance the story of the heroine of the Redelki Wars mopping a floor—and she had no desire to return to her long-fled homeworld.

So, during those nine or ten previous fresh starts and throughout the year of rehab she’d…floated. Unable to face her future, to accept reality, she’d turned herself off. Half-drifting, half-asleep until the only time it seemed she was really awake was while dozing, and even then, she’d wake unrested, troubled by the damn dreams.

They began in cryo-sleep.

The shrinks had insisted she hadn’t—couldn’t have—dreamt, that dreams were impossible because she had been effectively dead, but she had. She had dreamed, those long years as an ice cube. Weird dreams, muddled and glorious and filled with swords and dragons and monsters and creatures from fairy tales and nightmares. Dreams that mixed her life with her great-grandmother’s stories, but it had all been so real.

They had been more real than the monotonous reality of flex this, good, now bend your index finger, good, rotate your wrist, good. Of sterile gray walls and the hot-metal stench of recycled air.

The dreams had faded a couple months after she first woke. When she’d regained words in a language her therapists understood. But she kept seeing flickers of people she had never met in real life but felt so familiar out of the corner of her eyes.

They’d remained intermittent during the never-ending horrors of the grafts and regrowing her arm and the physical therapy, but after she’d been discharged, they grew more persistent.

Months, weeks apart, then quicker, every night, pulling her to a place she’d known only from childhood stories.

Satura.

With nothing else left than the desire to stop the dreams, she had set her sights here, and who would have refused her? She was a hero. The hero. Besides, at that point the IASS wanted her out of their hair. She was a liability, an embarrassment waiting to happen.

Satura had seemed the best place to send her.

It was the end of the line in every sense.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read Universal Link

Meet the Author

Laurel Beckley has been writing ever since she started her first novel the summer before eighth grade—a hand-written epic fantasy catastrophe that has lurked in her mind and an increasingly ratty college-ruled notebook ever since. 

She is a writer, Marine Corps veteran, and librarian.

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Monday, December 14, 2020

Release Blitz: Make the Yuletide Gay by Ivy L. James #LGBTQ #HolidayRomance @AuthorIvyLJames

 

Title: Make the Yuletide Gay

Author: Ivy L. James

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: December 14, 2020

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 24700

Genre: Contemporary Holiday, LGBTQIA+, contemporary, romance, lesbian, editors, publishing, seasonal/holiday/Christmas, age-gap, coworkers, office affair, road trip, hot chocolate

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Synopsis

Junior editor Grace Taylor is doubling as the temporary assistant to senior editor Nicola Valentine…and harboring a secret crush on her. Grace is devastated when a work conference forces her to miss her big family Christmas. However, she gets a gift she doesn’t expect when a snowstorm strands her and Nicola at a small B&B.

Nicola has no idea how to handle sharing a room with her gorgeous, vibrant assistant. As she learns to share her heart as well, her fear threatens the blossoming relationship. Can she let Grace in, or will Nicola’s past sabotage her chance at happiness?

Excerpt

Make the Yuletide Gay
Ivy L. James © 2020
All Rights Reserved

Grace Taylor, junior editor at Pembroke Press, had doubled as the temporary assistant to senior editor Nicola Valentine for two weeks now, and she had mixed feelings about the whole thing.

Pros of working so closely with Nicola:

It might provide an advantage when promotion time came around.
Grace saw Nicola’s beautiful, beautiful face all day.
When not seeing her beautiful, beautiful face, she saw her beautiful, beautiful ass.
God, she was beautiful.

Cons of working so closely with Nicola:

Grace had to see her beautiful, beautiful face all day.
When not seeing her beautiful, beautiful face, she had to see her beautiful, beautiful ass.
God, she was beautiful.

For obvious reasons, Grace kept these thoughts to herself.

At least she had the week of Christmas off. Some time away from the office—far away—might help reset her brain. There was nothing like her moms’ obsession with tinsel and oversized yard décor to get a girl’s mind off real life.

But right now, real life offered her a direct view of Nicola leaning against her oak desk during a conference call, and visions of sugar plums dissipated from Grace’s head.

The lamplight gleamed on the silk of Nicola’s deep-blue blouse, highlighting her curves, business tinted with pleasure. The neckline dipped low to bare smooth brown skin and a tempting shadow of cleavage. Her charcoal-gray pencil skirt fit tight over full hips and ass, and with her ever-present high heels… God.

Phone tucked between her shoulder and ear, Nicola traced the edge of the desk, her slim fingers tipped in short, gray-polished nails.

Grace sucked in a breath.

Those nails scraping on her skin, with the heels and prim clothes scattered across her apartment floor…

Not that that’s ever happening. Grace had no illusions about office relationships, casual or otherwise. It never ended well for anyone involved. Still…when she went home, no one had to know she fantasized about going to Nicola’s desk, with that silky shirt unbuttoned and dark hair loose, and pulling her into a deep, lazy kiss.

Late at night, the fantasy darkened. Panting breaths, exploring hands, parting legs…

You can’t think about this at work. She huffed and stalked over to the employee break room to busy her hands with preparing the morning coffees—one with plenty of creamer, one black. The beige office walls and bland cubicles around her did nothing to reflect the holiday season.

When Nicola ended the call, Grace opened the office door and offered her the second steaming mug. “How’s your morning so far?”

Nicola swigged from the cup, unfazed by the heat and bitterness. “I just learned I have to cancel my holiday plans to attend a work conference that Craig was supposed to cover. So I’ve had better.”

Craig Harkness, the other senior editor. Grace winced. “That sucks. Is it at least nearby?”

Nicola’s lips twisted into a humorless smile. “Of course not. It’s in Maine.”

Over a ten-hour drive away from their work in Washington, D.C. “Oh, no, will you—?”

“And, of course, I’ll need you with me.”

Grace froze.

“Between the holiday and the late notice, there aren’t any flights left, so we’ll take my car. We leave tomorrow, return next Saturday.”

Maine? For the entire week? Her brain threw up a blue screen of death, and she laughed. “Sorry, what?” You can’t possibly have said… No. No way.

Nicola scrolled through something on her phone screen. “I know it’s last minute. The company will reimburse you for any cancellations you have to make, plus our meals and accommodations, and you’ll get overtime. But you’ll need to go. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.” When she glanced up, she really did look apologetic. “I know it’s not ideal.”

Not ideal? Grace’s family. Her traditional Christmas. Her chance to get Nicola Valentine out of her head. So close, and yet so far away. “I’m not sure I understand.”

With a tsk, Nicola set aside her coffee mug. “It’s the publishing conference of the year. If Pembroke Press isn’t there, we’re screwed. And Craig had some sort of personal emergency—” Her jaw ticked despite her even tone. “—so it falls to me. And I need my assistant with me to help keep everything on track.”

But I have to go? Grace had only been an in-office assistant so far. Scheduling meetings, answering emails, entering data in spreadsheets. Small things, relatively speaking. Conference of the year? What if I screw it up for her?

But she’d volunteered to assist, and she didn’t have the sway to say no. Not to mention the ever-looming mountain of college debt. I need this job.

Nicola stared at her with an are-you-stupid look. “Well?”

It wasn’t a question.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read Universal Link

 

Meet the Author

Ivy L. James wrote her first story on Post-it notes as a child. Since then, she has graduated to regular paper and enjoys writing inclusive, heartwarming romance as a way to counterbalance the negativity in the world. She lives in Maryland with her partner and their corgi, cat, and two snakes.

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Monday, December 7, 2020

Release Blitz: Burying the Hatchet by A.C. Thomas #LGBTQ #holidayromance @acthomas_books

 

Title: Burying the Hatchet

Author: A.C. Thomas

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: December 7, 2020

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 32800

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, contemporary, gay, holiday/seasonal, Christmas tree farm, interracial, enemies/rivals to lovers, second chances, family drama/homophobia, outing, slow burn, size difference, Southern, mutual pining

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Synopsis

Home for the holidays for the first time in five years, Clayton Osborne steps off the plane with a chip on his shoulder and a suitcase full of grief…only to come face to flannel-covered chest with his worst nightmare. It’s Jake Carver, his high school nemesis and guilty crush. Clayton never expected Jake to still be working on his family tree farm. Of course, now that he’s older and wiser, it will be no problem to ignore Jake’s axe-swinging, barb-slinging, larger-than-life presence. Right?

Jake Carver loves his work, running NorthStar Tree Farm like it was his own. He’s let other things in his life fall by the wayside as he poured everything he had into his job. Until Clayton Osborne, star of his teenage dreams and his greatest regret returns home as beautiful and feisty as ever. If Jake just keeps his head down and focuses on his work, he can make it through the holidays without revealing his lingering feelings for Clayton. Right?

The mountains of North Carolina ring with more than Christmas bells when boyhood enemies collide as men. Long-buried feelings blossom and grow while the pair work side by side to save the farm, until Clayton must confront his obligation to return to his job in Chicago. He’s going to have to choose. Does he want his big-city life, or love in the mountains? All of this hinges on whether he and Jake can finally bury the hatchet. Can love overcome the years of conflict in their past?

With the help of a good old-fashioned Christmas miracle, it just might.

Excerpt

They settled into a routine, spending the week setting up for the Jubilee and cutting trees for retail, Clayton organizing the office into a semblance of order while Jake decorated the house. Visiting Ma every other day.

There was no discussion of it, but they fell into a pattern of eating every meal together before long, breakfast standing in the kitchen, lunch out by the barn, dinner at the table.

Clayton worked through Ma’s patched-together home cookbook, flipping through stained, sticky pages to find old favorites.

On Thursday, he stood stirring a pot of Brunswick stew when the creak of a floorboard alerted him to Jake peering over his shoulder.

He held out a taste on the cracked wooden spoon, steam thickening the air between them.

Jake ducked his head, pausing at Clayton’s hissed “Careful, it’s hot,” and nodded slowly before blowing on the spoon, letting Clayton slip it between his full lips with a satisfied hum. The resulting flutter in Clayton’s stomach had nothing to do with food.

The sweet, building comfort of domesticity started ringing alarm bells in Clayton’s head, warning him to make a reality check before he fell too deeply into the fantasy.

That was how he found himself sitting up in bed, scrolling idly through his favorite dating app just to take a look at the local scene since he’d been gone.

Plenty of attractive guys, but he couldn’t muster up any enthusiasm, passing on every one without a second thought.

Until he came across a profile picture that stopped him in his tracks, the air freezing in his lungs.

There, on his screen, right in front of his face, was a set of abs Clayton could have picked out of a lineup.

In poor lighting.

During a snowstorm.

A familiar canvas of warm skin scattered with tiny tight black curls, every muscle defined and exaggerated to absurd proportions. Dark-brown freckles across his broad shoulders with a thin, jagged scar stretched across his collarbone and a birthmark in the shape of Australia just above his Adonis belt on the left side.

Jake freaking Carver had a profile on here. Under the name “MountainMan21.”

Holy shit.

Clayton sucked in air with a ragged gasp, having spent far too long without taking a single breath, fixated on the image.

His radiator must be working overtime because the room was suddenly far too hot.

A thrill went down his spine, old fantasies resurrected like a phoenix from the flames. Memories of working the farm with Jake in the summer during high school, his shirt magically evaporating and leaving Clayton as hot and sweaty as the sun beating down on their heads.

But then reality set in, along with building, brewing anger.

Just like the way Clayton had usually cooled off in those days when Jake had shoved him into the filthy pond, laughing as he sputtered in the mud.

What if this wasn’t really a profile?

What if it was a trap? He’d read about that happening sometimes. Guys making fake profiles to lure unsuspecting people and beat them or worse.

Was Jake involved in something nefarious?

Clayton didn’t want to believe it; Jake had mellowed so much as an adult, giving no hint that he bore Clayton any ill will for his sexuality. Acting so sweet with his ma.

But this. It came out of nowhere.

Clayton was going to have to get to the bottom of it.

After he scrolled through the rest of these pictures.

Cheese crisps, how many angles could one guy use to take pictures of his own abdomen? Not that Clayton was complaining about the view, but, wow.

He only hated himself a little bit for taking screenshots.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read Universal Link

Meet the Author

A.C. Thomas left the glamorous world of teaching preschool for the even more glamorous world of staying home with her toddler. Between the diaper changes and tea parties, she escapes into fantastical worlds, reading every romance available and even writing a few herself.

She devours books of every flavor—science fiction, historical, fantasy—but always with a touch of romance because she believes there is nothing more fantastical than the transformative power of love.

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Thursday, December 3, 2020

Release Blitz: Dragon Lesson by Mell Eight #YoungAdult #shifters #LGBTQ @MellEight

 

Title: Dragon Lesson

Series: Supernatural Consultant, Book Seven

Author: Mell Eight

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: November 30th, 2020

Heat Level: 1 - No Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 27900

Genre: Paranormal YA, NineStar Press, LGBTQIA+, young adult, new adult, dragon shifters, witch, magic-users, dragon family, young love, first kiss, kidnapping, escape, reunited

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Synopsis

All Lumie wants to see is Goldie’s beautiful smile, but the only expression he ever shows Lumie is tears. When Goldie asks him for a favor, Lumie leaps at the chance to finally see Goldie happy. 

Goldie wants to live a life free of the fear that has chained him for so long, but breaking free once and for all may come with a higher price than he and Lumie are prepared to pay.

Excerpt

Dragon Lesson
Mell Eight © 2020
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One

The first time Lumie had seen Goldie in the flesh was one of the oddest moments of Lumie’s life. Lumie knew Goldie. He knew that shining golden hair, rosy in the sun like the gold was touched by fire. And those big golden eyes surrounded by dark-gold lashes were something Lumie had seen in his mind’s eye for years and years. He knew the moment when Goldie would come into his life, when Dane and Mercury would rescue him, but Lumie hadn’t understood what five years of captivity with the enemy would do to Goldie. Lumie had been lucky. He had barely been a day out of his egg when Mercury had come for him. Goldie had been held captive for far too long, and it had destroyed something inside of him.

Lumie had tagged along with Mercury, his daddy, when Mercury went to check on a mother dragon that had been rescued along with Goldie. When Mercury went into the house where the mother was staying with her new eggs, Goldie had snuck out the back door.

Looking back on that moment years later, Lumie realized Goldie was shaking in utter fear, but at the time, all Lumie had seen was the boy from his waking dreams.

“Hi!” Lumie had chirped happily. Goldie, on the other hand, had let out a shriek. He had stumbled back from Lumie, holding up his hands as if warding off a blow. Mercury and Martha, an air dragon in charge of the village, had come hurrying outside, and together they had coaxed Goldie back into the house. Goldie wouldn’t look at Lumie even once as he hurried up the stairs.

The encounter had left Lumie horribly confused for years. He knew what Goldie’s eyes looked like when he was smiling at Lumie: shining and bright. He had foreseen that happiness, but only in a dream rather than real life. Lumie didn’t understand the fear he saw inside Goldie. For the next thirteen years, Lumie had visited the village at least once a week and made a point of saying hello to Goldie. Eventually, Goldie stopped screaming and running from Lumie, but his fear never vanished.

Lumie had yet to see Goldie’s smile in person.

“Which wire?” Alloy hissed. From the slightly frantic tone of his voice, Lumie realized it wasn’t the first time Alloy had spoken. Lumie took his eyes from the gleaming gold-colored plate he had pulled off the security alarm, got his thoughts back to the present, and focused on the two different wires Alloy had pulled out of the guts of the alarm.

“It doesn’t matter which wire,” Lumie replied with a shrug. “Just heat them both really fast, then cool them off suddenly. Total wire failure won’t set off that sort of alarm.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Mercury snapped from behind them. The overhead light flickered on, bringing the foyer of the house Mercury owned with Dane into focus. Mercury had bronze-colored hair that fell just below his ears, and his bronze-colored eyes were sharp as he glared at Lumie and Alloy. He was angry. Lumie looked at the alarm box they had stripped and were about to destroy, and then back at Mercury’s glaring face.

Oh, he was mad about the alarm thing.

“I was just teaching.” Lumie grumbled. He held out the gold-colored plate, and Mercury yanked it from his hands.

“A, you’re both nineteen and should know better. B, you both promised me a thesis statement for the essay you have to write and one page from your algebra workbook before bedtime. You can teach Alloy about alarm systems when you’re not supposed to be doing other things.” Mercury growled. Magic flashed through the air, and the gold plate flew back into place on the alarm. The four screws Alloy had dropped to the floor flew into their slots and twisted until they were in place. “Plus,” Mercury continued in a softer tone, “you both left fingerprints all over the alarm system. Eventually someone would have noticed your tampering, and you both would have been caught.” He pulled one sleeve down over his palm and wiped at the gold plate before reaching out to snap the outer housing with all the buttons back onto the frame.

Alloy bounded off, and Lumie reluctantly followed. He had actually finished the math, but he hated essays. It would only take ten minutes to scrape together the one-sentence thesis statement, but he didn’t want to. At all. He had taken the damn test Mercury had wanted him to. His results weren’t back yet, but he had thought he was done with school with the damned GED out of the way. Mercury having the tutor continue to pile on more homework was ridiculous.

Instead of following Alloy upstairs, Lumie headed to the kitchen. He deserved a cinnamon bomb before having to go do his work.

Dane was already in the kitchen when Lumie walked in. He was on the phone, though, so he couldn’t speak up to stop Lumie from raiding the candy basket on top of the fridge. The happiest day of Lumie’s life was the day he realized he had finally grown tall enough to get to his candy on his own. Somehow Lumie thought that might have also been Dane’s unhappiest day, but he tried not to dwell on trivialities like that. Dane was super special in the magic world. Whatever. So was Lumie. That wasn’t even arrogance talking. Dane was the son of a god and a crazy lady from across the pond. Grandma came to visit every once in a while. Lately she had started bringing along her spell books. Those were interesting to read. Lumie had nicked a few since they were so much more interesting than the books Mercury had him reading.

Lumie’s powers, on the other hand, were… Well, he didn’t really have a way to define what he could do. As far as he knew, no one could explain why his magic was so odd. He was a fire dragon, so playing with fire was his favorite pastime—he liked it even better than tormenting Dane—but sometimes he saw things he shouldn’t, he could travel in ways a fire dragon shouldn’t be able, and he generally confounded Dane with the things he could do. That was part of the fun, really, and Lumie tried not to dwell on things that weren’t fun.

With his long blond hair pulled back into a tail at the base of his skull, Dane looked severe. His blue eyes glared pointedly at Lumie, so Lumie picked up the cinnamon bomb wrapper from where he had dropped it on the counter and put it in the trash. Taking care of the wrapper now was better than Dane’s magic yanking him back into the kitchen to do it later. Plus, if Lumie left too many wrappers lying around, the basket suddenly had a dearth of cinnamon bombs for a few days. It was punishment that Lumie did not enjoy.

Dane hung up the phone before Lumie could escape.

“That was the new secretary of defense,” Dane said. He was frowning down at the screen of his phone as he spoke, but he looked up at Lumie, and Lumie couldn’t help freezing in place.

He had seen this before. Daydreamed it, really. In the kitchen with Dane looking so serious. Dane was about to tell him something that would change his life forever.

Lumie didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to know. He liked his life right now. He was comfortable living in Dane’s home and eating the food Daisy, their caretaker, prepared for them. Nickel, Lumie’s adoptive brother, liked living away from home in the house he shared with his boyfriend, Platinum. All Lumie liked about that was since Nickel and Platinum had moved out, he had been allowed to take their bedroom for himself. Not having to share with Chrome any longer—not living in the constant mess Chrome was unable to ever properly clean—was amazing.

“He offered you a full scholarship to the college of your choice with the caveat that you come work for one of the defense agencies under his purview,” Dane continued before Lumie could stop him. “He apparently has an issue only someone of your skills can handle and is willing to do just about anything to get you to sign on.”

“He doesn’t know I’m available to hire through your consulting firm?” Lumie asked grumpily, used to speaking clearly around the cinnamon bomb stretching out one of his cheeks. It was too late; he had already heard what Dane had to say. His life was irrevocably changed. All he could do was try to keep the things he liked best safe when the turmoil hit.

“He wants to take out the middleman,” Dane explained with a shrug. “It will probably also cost them less overall to pay for your college and provide a steady work salary than to hire you through me.”

That didn’t surprise Lumie. Dane made the government pay through the nose. It allowed him to give people with fewer means the same service at a much more affordable price.

“Lumie, this is big for you. Your grades aren’t anything to laud, and you took an extra year to finish high school. Plus, a lot of colleges might discriminate against you because you’re a dragon. They’ll think you’ll wash out within a semester and not want to put any time or effort into accepting you.”

Everything Dane was saying was true. Dragons were one of the most uneducated creatures in the world—not because they were stupid or lacked the mental capacity for it, but because they didn’t have access to education in the wild where the majority of them lived. When they did venture into human civilization, their ignorance often caused someone to get hurt. Having someone from the secretary of defense’s office step in on Lumie’s behalf meant that none of those issues would be in his way, but Lumie had never been interested in college. He had taken his GED test only because Mercury and Dane had literally dragged him across the finish line. He didn’t even know if he had actually passed it yet.

“Alloy wants to go to college,” Lumie stated. He wasn’t sure if he was voicing a complaint that they hadn’t approached Alloy instead—even though Alloy lacked the specialized skills that made Lumie so distinctive—or whether he was grumpy that they thought they could buy him so easily.

“So we ask the secretary if he can get two college entrance letters,” Dane replied with an easy shrug. “Alloy might also have to agree to a few years working with the government too.”

“But he’s always liked what Daddy does and would apply to work for the SupFeds in a heartbeat if he could,” Lumie finished.

Mercury worked as a special agent for the Federal Bureau of Supernatural Investigations, which investigated issues that stemmed from the supernatural world. Dane worked with them often in his capacity as a private contractor with his Supernatural Consulting Firm, and Alloy had always wanted to join Mercury. Again, something Lumie wasn’t interested in. He liked his independence—and his laziness, to be perfectly honest. He picked the jobs he wanted to do whenever he felt like doing them. Getting tied down with an agency would end all that freedom.

“Let me think about it,” Lumie finally said after a few moments of silence.

Dane nodded. His smile was completely understanding. “You know Mercury and I only want you to be happy. If college isn’t for you, we can probably still work something out. Let me know what you think. Don’t take too long,” he added. “I don’t think this offer is indefinite, so we need to call the secretary back by Friday afternoon.”

Lumie nodded and rushed to escape the kitchen. He went upstairs to his private bedroom and flopped facedown on the bed.

It was too good an opportunity to pass up. College would suck, but it would make Mercury so happy. Afterward Lumie was guaranteed to have a good job where he could use his special skills to their fullest. It really was an amazing opportunity, but it meant the end of his simple and easy life.

And there was also Alloy to think about. Alloy, who was running down the very long driveway—over two miles long—every afternoon to check the mailbox to see whether his GED scores had arrived. As soon as he had his official letter, he was going to start applying to colleges. How would Lumie feel every time Alloy got a rejection letter from a school, and Lumie knew he could have saved Alloy from that pain?

Lumie snorted in disgust at himself. Was throwing away his freedom worth it for Alloy’s happiness? Probably, damn it, but it wasn’t fair.

He threw his body off his bed and twisted his magic around him in a way no other dragon could. His bedroom vanished from view, and he reappeared just outside a small town. The nearest house was just across the street. Lumie quickly rounded the building to get to the backyard.

The flash of golden hair in the sunlight caught Lumie’s attention first, and he eagerly hurried forward to Goldie’s side. Goldie wouldn’t have the answer Lumie wanted, but just being by his side for a few minutes helped soothe his roiling thoughts.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read Universal Link

Meet the Author

When Mell Eight was in high school, she discovered dragons. Beautiful, wondrous creatures that took her on epic adventures both to faraway lands and on journeys of the heart. Mell wanted to create dragons of her own, so she put pen to paper. Mell Eight is now known for her own soaring dragons, as well as for other wonderful characters dancing across the pages of her books. While she mostly writes paranormal or fantasy stories, she has been seen exploring the real world once or twice.

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