NEW RELEASE: The Night Bartender by Alexa Piper #LGBTQ #holidayromance #PNR @prowlingpiper @changelingpress

 

Aaron has come to Fairview to find his ex’s teenage sister, who went missing in the city. As a witch both rich and powerful, Aaron follows a trail that leads him to a bar frequented by supernaturals and to a bartender who attracts Aaron's attention -- and not just because the bartender is keeping something from Aaron. When Aaron runs out of leads, he follows the mysterious and pretty bartender, and the next thing Aaron knows, he's foiling an attempted abduction.

Ilya has built a quiet life in Fairview mixing drinks and flying under the radar. He is a banshee, and the psychic ability and mild telepathy that comes with that makes Ilya a sought-after commodity. That carefully constructed life Ilya built for himself breaks into a thousand pieces when a handsome witch starts asking questions and becomes Ilya’s rescuer mere hours after they meet.

The witch, Aaron, vows to protect Ilya and to keep his secret. Now Ilya has to decide whether he will give Aaron his trust and risk a lonely but safe life as a night bartender in a wintry city in which people disappear only to then turn up murdered.

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Alexa Piper

Aaron buried his hands in his coat pockets and gave the bleak Fairview midday sky a hard look. Not that the sky gave much of a damn. It was late November, just after the Thanksgiving weekend, and for most of the morning, it had sleeted in a way Aaron had never before experienced in his life. It was like a hot shower, except the cold, freezing water got all the way through to your skin and passed the cold to every inch of your body.

“Damn city just might be cursed with bad weather,” Aaron mumbled as he walked along a street in the Old Town, which should lead him to a bar friendly to the not-quite-human clientele if his online research skills hadn’t failed him. A deep black cloud caught his attention. It zapped across the horizon as if blown by a particularly vicious breeze. Aaron frowned before he picked up his pace. The sooner I’m done here, the sooner I can go back to Morrowvale where November doesn’t suck so bad your balls want to freeze off in surrender, he thought.

In all honesty, Fairview wasn’t a bad place. The city itself was nice enough. The parks and trees here littered the streets with the bones of leaves turning to sludge in the puddles left from the earlier sleet showers, and the people, while ignoring both other people and the suck-tastic weather, dressed a little nicer than the average Morrowvaler. Aaron had also never had Japanese food as good as he’d had an hour ago in a small, unassuming place he’d accidentally walked into, at least not outside Japan. That counted for something, at least in Aaron’s book.

Traffic was in what passed for a bit of a midday lull in Fairview. The honking had ebbed to a not-eardrum-shattering noise, and Aaron managed to cross the street without it feeling like he was gambling with his life.

The Ragdoll was a basement bar, and if Aaron hadn’t been looking for it, he probably would have missed the small neon sign that was either broken or just off this early in the day. A wrought-iron fence further hid the sign and the door, which lay at the bottom of a flight of stairs. This could be a private gambling den or the hideout of a bunch of Russian spies, Aaron thought.

He walked down the stairs and pulled the door open just as another sleet shower was getting ready to wash the streets and everyone walking outside with icy wetness. Aaron shivered as he crossed the threshold and blinked into the softly lit bar.

Last week’s Thanksgiving paper turkeys and fall-colored garlands were still up, though a busboy collected the decorations into a cardboard box labeled “Turkey Day” in black sharpie. There were no Russian spies and no gambling going on here.

Surprisingly, there were several patrons in the bar this early in the day. Aaron spotted a handful starting their day’s drinking early, but most nursed mugs of coffee or were digging into sandwiches which, admittedly, looked better than was right in a basement bar. Judging by their business suits, those were just office workers who knew where the good sandwiches were at. The music was pop, playing just loud enough to offer background noise without becoming obnoxious. This place, despite the outward appearance, looked hip, trendy even. Fucking Fairview. This city is as confusing as a clown at a dinner party, Aaron thought.

Aaron’s fingers closed around the talisman in his pocket. With his touch and the smallest pinch of magic, he felt the worked metal coin activate and the spell bound to it sizzle to life. Three people, including the strawberry-blonde girl behind the bar, whipped their head around to look at him. So, this place really is supernatural friendly, Aaron thought. The talisman heated rapidly in his pocket. And Dora definitely was here before she disappeared.

That confirmed, he let go of the talisman and walked straight to the bartender. The other two patrons who’d noticed his magic had gone back to ignoring him like the good Fairviewers they were.

“Hi,” Aaron said, giving the strawberry blonde his best winning smile. “What’s good here?”

She shrugged. “Depends on whether it’s drink-o’clock in your world or not. If not, the pumpkin spice latte kills. If yes, you look like a Macallan kind of guy.”

Aaron grinned at her. “You’d be right about the whiskey, but I think I’ll go with the latte,” he told her.

He was doing his best with the charming vibes, which usually worked even if he turned it on women, but the bartender just nodded and went about preparing his coffee. Aaron watched her, more interested in the fact that she was making coffee at a bar decked out with an impressive assortment of liquor than anything else. The coffee machine was one of those intimidating ones that took up some primo counter real estate, and from the looks of it, it saw some use.

When she was done, she brought the latte over to him and puffed a dash of cinnamon over the foamy top right in front of him. The warm scent of the spice immediately made Aaron feel just a little more optimistic about everything. The mug was the cutesy kind with a grinning, red-nosed reindeer on the side.

“There you go,” she said with little enthusiasm, though not exactly unfriendly.

“Thanks, miss,” Aaron said. Before she could walk away again, he focused on her instead of the latte. “Could I ask you something?”

“I’m guessing I’m not your type, so go right ahead,” she said.

Aaron’s eyes widened, and it was the girl’s turn to chuckle. “Half-succubus,” she said on a whisper. “The gay-dar is practically built-in.”

He nodded, fighting the color rising to his cheeks. “Right. Makes sense.” Aaron cleared his throat. “I was wondering if you’ve seen this girl,” he said and pulled the photo Patrick had given him from his pocket. It showed Dora smiling, her blond hair shimmering in the sun.

The half-succubus took a look, then shook her head. “No, sorry. Friend of yours?”

“My ex’s sister, believe it or not,” Aaron said. “She went missing, and I tracked her first to Fairview, and now here.” Aaron had the cellphone gods to thank for that. It made using his magic almost unnecessary, although Aaron still liked to confirm the actual person had been to a place, not just their phone, hence his talisman.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Alexa Piper writes steamy romance that ranges from light to dark, from straight to queer. She’s also a coffee addict. Alexa loves writing stories that make her readers laugh and fall in love with the characters in them. Connect with Alexa on Facebook or Instagram, follow her on Twitter or TikTok, and subscribe to her newsletter!

Visit her website.

NEW RELEASE: O Christmas Tree by Emily Carrington #LGBTQ #contemporaryromance #Christmas @CarringtonEmily @changelingpress

For Jake, losing his eyesight isn’t nearly as frightening as having to rely on someone else. Especially if he wants that other person to be his lover. He was taught from an early age that being gay is synonymous with being a sissy and he can’t see past that lesson to the one Tyler is trying to teach him.

Tyler has been attracted to Jake since they first met. When Jake comes to Tyler’s bed, it seems all of Tyler’s dreams are coming true. Except Jake doesn’t want more than friends with benefits. Can Tyler stand being Jake’s second choice?

Available at Changeling Press

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Emily Carrington

For Tyler Carter, there was no better pre-Christmas present than watching Jake swim. The lean-muscled, pale-skinned man was God’s gift to the world of gay men. With his Irish last name, Calhoun, he should have been freckled too, but Jake had been adopted. Tyler sometimes wondered how his mother could have possibly given him up as a baby. But maybe she’d had no choice.

He watched Jake knifing his way through the water at Colton University’s pool and his cock rolled over in its winter hibernation. It took very little time in Jake’s presence to waken Tyler’s body even though they’d never even kissed. Hell, they’d never even held hands.

Jake knew nothing of Tyler’s longing, although Tyler was hoping the vacation they were taking together would change that.

Shoulder-length chestnut brown hair was plastered to Jake’s head like a helmet and Tyler’s fingers itched to touch the slightly curly locks. Jake’s tattoo, on the right side of his back and over that shoulder, was of a dolphin and ocean waves. The twenty-seven-year-old certainly swam like a dolphin.

Tyler knew he should call to Jake, get his attention. They were due at an appointment in less than an hour and who knew how long it would take Jake to get dressed? But Tyler couldn’t quite bring himself to raise his voice or even to speak. Jake was so beautiful while swimming.

If Tyler watched much longer, he’d have to hide in a bathroom and take care of his little problem before the appointment.

He approached the edge of the pool, not close enough to get accidentally splashed. He thought, All the angels in heaven would sing your praise if they were allowed.

Jake was in the second lane from the edge and when he reached the deep end’s side, he finally came up for air. He shook his bangs out of his eyes and turned his head. Maybe he’d somehow sensed Tyler’s nearness, or he was looking for him. Their gazes met and locked. Jake’s grin lit up his whole face, from stretching lips that were slightly pinker than the rest of his skin to crinkling the corners of absolutely stunning hazel eyes.

He swam over to Tyler, gestured for him to step back a bit, and then, with what looked like very little effort, hoisted himself out of the deep end.

Tyler wanted to turn away and adjust his jeans so his boner wouldn’t be so obvious, but he knew doing anything like that would draw more rather than less attention to his reaction. So, feeling his cheeks heat up, he grinned back at Jake.

“Are you early or did I lose track of time?” Jake glanced over his shoulder at the cock hanging on the wall.

The clock, Tyler thought. Not the cock, the clock. Get your mind out of the gutter.

The past six months knowing Jake had been a pleasure. Learning, about six weeks ago, that Jake was gay had just been icing on the cake.

Jake said, “I guess time got away from me.” He walked over to his shower shoes and put them on. “I’ll meet you out front? I need to towel off and get dressed.”

Can I come with you? Tyler swallowed the words. Jake had been walking a very fine line since coming out to Tyler, never being suggestive in his speech or actions. But he was too friendly to tell Tyler he didn’t want him. Or maybe that was just Tyler’s impression. Maybe Jake was one of those weird people who believed it was okay to be gay but wrong to act on it.

Tyler was Christian. Jake wasn’t. At least Tyler didn’t think he was because he didn’t go to Tyler’s church, and he didn’t seem to attend any of the others in Marisburg or Colton.

“I’ll meet you out in the main lobby,” he told Jake now. “We’ve got a little over forty minutes to get there, so there’s not too much of a rush.”

“I’ll probably shower if I have time. There’s nothing more offensive to some people than smelling like chlorine.” Jake flashed him another killer smile, complete with a dimple. “I’ll be out soon.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male, female/female, and transgender romance. She has been writing since 2011 and has dedicated her career to two universes: SearchLight and Sticks and Stones. SearchLight is all about magical creatures finding their HEA, and Sticks and Stones finds happily-ever-afters for her contemporary characters. Sticks and Stones tends to happen in small towns, whereas SearchLight happens all up and down the East Coast and across the United States.

Find Emily Online: Facebook | Blog | Twitter 

 

Release Blitz: To Melt a Frozen Heart by Fearne Hill #LGBTQ #holidayromance #contemporary @ninestarpress @GoIndiMarketing

 

Title: To Melt a Frozen Heart

Series: Rossingly, 3.5

Author: Fearne Hill

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 12/14/2021

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 31700

Genre: Contemporary Holiday, LGBTQIA+, contemporary, gay, holiday, British, aristocracy, fashion model/celebrity, politician, gardeners, humorous, family drama, over 40, opposites attract, rich man/poor man, second chance, engagement, British euphemisms

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Description

Freddie Duchamps-Avery has only one desire this Christmas: to ask his beloved Reuben to marry him. However, with his needy father moping around, finding the perfect, romantic moment to propose is proving tricky. The Rt Hon. Charles Duchamps-Avery is a successful politician, a hopeless father, and a miserable divorcé. Facing the prospect of Christmas alone in London, he accepts his son Freddie’s generous invitation to join the gang at Rossingley. Yet, being surrounded by happy couples only serves to remind of his past mistakes and a looming, lonely old age. If only a handsome, enigmatic stranger would appear and distract him…

Excerpt

To Melt a Frozen Heart
Fearne Hill © 2021
All Rights Reserved

FREDDIE

“He won’t accept anything too fancy. You know what he’s like. He might even say no!”

I pushed the double buggy on a second lap around Rossingley Lake. Lucien sauntered alongside, puffing on a crafty fag out of view of the twins and indeed anyone else. Limiting himself to only one cigarette per week, he had started smoking Virginia Slims, which were apparently the longest.

“He won’t say no,” Lucien reassured, not hiding the frustration in his voice. In his defence, I was beginning to sound like a stuck record. “The bangle isn’t too fancy, darling. It’s perfect. A brilliant choice, even if I do say so myself.”

“Maybe we should have stuck to the plain one without the diamonds.”

Lucien groaned, not unreasonably. “Trust me, Freddie. Reuben will agree to marry you if you present him with a bag of organic compost. Perhaps that’s what we should have bought? A quick trip down to the garden centre would have been a hell of a lot kinder on my poor feet.”

“I forgot you had bunions.”

“Shh! Don’t use that filthy language in front of the children! The sixteenth Earl of Rossingley does not have bunions! I think you’ll find that in our household, my husband and I have agreed to refer to them as my ‘shapely love bumps’.”

I never foresaw Lucien declaring he’d fallen out of love with shopping, but last week, I’d been the prime instigator of it. He’d agreed with pleasure to accompany me on an expedition up to London to choose an engagement gift for Reuben, but by the time I’d trawled pretty much every single jeweller on a packed pre-Christmas Bond Street, he’d declared himself a convert to the internet and had spent the evening moaning, with his knobbly, bruised feet plunged in an ice bath.

Marriage: love, laughter, and happily ever after.

I was achingly desperate to pop the question. To tie the knot. To plight my troth, whatever the fuck that meant. The pretty bangle burned a hole in my jacket pocket, and the words were almost bursting out of me. Ever since Lucien had done the deed, he scattered the phrase ‘my husband’ around like confetti practically whenever he opened his mouth. Every time he casually threw the words out, I experienced a sharp kick in the guts of pure envy. Not of him being married to Jay, although I thought I’d be secretly drooling over his pecs forever.

Having previously viewed the whole marriage thing as a heteronormative black hole to avoid like the plague, since Lucien’s bloody wedding, a primal urge to be married to Reuben had lodged in my brain. I craved the awesome sense of possessiveness about it. To put a ring on it. To get down on one knee. Like Lucien, I wanted to add the words ‘my husband’ to my vocabulary and say them with pride. On a practical level, I wanted to give Reuben a legal right to all my dosh. Even if he wasn’t fussed about having it.

Knowing Reuben wouldn’t hold truck with a showy engagement ring, I’d decided to buy him a bangle instead, which he could discreetly hide under his long sleeves every day at work. What had begun in my mind as a simple silver wristband had morphed into an impressively solid chunk of white gold, inlaid with delicate yellow diamonds shaped like flowerheads. Engraved on the inside I’d chosen ‘all my love forever, Freddie’. Not challenging Byron in the romantic poetry stakes but pretty much summing up all my feelings for him in a nutshell. Lucien and I agreed the bangle was stunning; yellow was my man’s favourite colour, and I’d fallen in love the moment I’d clapped eyes on it.

“Maybe I should get him a simple silver one too,” I hedged. “Then he can choose. Or have both.”

“Yes, darling, why don’t you do that,” Lucien replied testily. “Actually, buy two simple silver bracelets, and a sweet little chain too. Bring them to me, we’ll secure them around both your wrists, and then I’ll handcuff you somewhere suitably far enough away that I don’t have to hear you drivelling on about the bloody bangle. Reuben adores you! He’ll adore the bangle. He’s going to say yes!”

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Meet the Author

Fearne Hill lives deep in the southern British countryside with three untamed sons, varying numbers of hens, a few tortoises, and a beautiful cocker spaniel. When she is not overseeing her small menagerie, she enjoys writing contemporary romantic fiction. And when she is not doing either of those things, she works as an anaesthesiologist.

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New Release: Bite Me for Christmas by Megan Slayer #vampires #urbanfantasy #holidayromance @MeganSlayer @changelingpress

 

Rachael isn’t good at magic, and she’s not versed in life, but this witch wants to lay her hands on the sexy vampire who’s come to her in her dreams. She wants just one thing for Christmas wish -- her vampire.

Gavin wants the witch in his dreams, but he doesn’t believe he’s worthy of her. Part of him wants to devour her magic and save himself, but what if being saved doesn’t involve dying?

Anything is possible with a little Christmas magic.

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Megan Slayer

How had she managed to summon a vampire?

Christmas lights bathed the room in a rainbow of color. Tinsel glittered around her window, and the tiny Christmas tree turned in small revolutions on her dresser. She was in her room and safe.

She was also a witch who not only believed in the creatures of the night, but also in Christmas. Krampus could haunt her, too. She was a conundrum mixed with confusion.

She sighed. If she wanted the vampire to come to her in person, she’d have to appeal to a higher power. Her sisters wouldn’t help and would probably try to steal him away, if they didn’t kill him first. Krampus hated her because she wasn’t bad enough. Clumsy, yes. Prone to mistakes? Sure. But bad? No. The only shot she had was Santa.

Damn.

Santa didn’t pay the coven much mind. It didn’t matter if she put out milk and cookies for him or that she believed he existed. If she existed and so did Krampus, why couldn’t Santa? Belief wasn’t enough. Santa wasn’t coming down her chimney.

Still, she could ask and believe.

She left her bed and ventured over to the window. Santa might not listen, but she had to try. Christmas was in two days, and she had a Christmas wish. If anyone could come through for her, it was Santa.

She held onto the windowsill. She hated being interrupted before she reached orgasm, but she needed her vampire to be there so she could. He mattered. Him being real mattered.

“Dear Santa, I should write a letter, but this seems faster. I could conjure you, but if I did, I’d probably give you four heads or turn you into a dragon by accident. Anyway, I’m tired of getting three-fourths of the way to climax and not being able to finish. Why? I know this seems like a strange thing to mention, but I’m trying to have sex in my dreams -- which isn’t as good as the real thing -- and it’s with a vampire. He could kill me, but I’m drawn to him. I don’t know who he is, Santa, but I want him. My Christmas wish is for the vampire in my dreams to come to me in real life. He might destroy me, but he might be what I need, and I want to find out. I accept the risk. Please, fulfill my Christmas wish and put a vampire under my tree.”

She swore she heard other voices and paused. Damn it. Her sisters must still be awake downstairs and heard her moving. If they did, they’d want her to get to work on whatever chore they’d found. They treated her like a fucking servant.

“Are you awake?” Serena, her oldest sister, called. “Rachael? If you’re awake, then there’s a sink full of dishes that need done.”

“It’s too early for her to be up,” Millie, her other sister, said. “She’s not awake. You’re imagining things.”

How could she sleep with the noise from her sisters downstairs? They treated her like a child and servant. The only way she’d have a chance at a life of her own would be to find the vampire and run the hell away.

“Please, Santa,” Rachael said. “I want my vampire for Christmas.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to LGBTQ and white hot themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been nominated at the LRC for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best Ménage, Best BDSM and Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on various e-tailer sites.

When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library.

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.

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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.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest

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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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COVER REVEAL -- Wraith (Dixie Reapers MC) by Harley Wylde

I’m not the kind of man to give a woman a fairy tale ending.
But for Rin, I’m willing to try.

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Contemporary, Christmas, MC Romance,
New Adult, Silver Fox

Rin -- My mom died when I was little, and my dad followed when I was fifteen. My half-brother, the nastiest human being I’ve ever met, convinced people to grant him custody. More likely he bribed people. My life has been hell since then. Every time I try to run, he finds me, tortures me, and makes sure I toe the line. This time will be different. I’m asking the Dixie Reapers for help. If they turn me away, I’m as good as dead, but even that’s preferable to what my half-brother has planned for me next.

I didn’t count on the sexy man with the dark, brooding eyes. The man who defended me only seconds after laying eyes on me. The man who makes me want things I’ve wanted before. I knew better than to sleep with him, knew I wasn’t good enough. When he rejects me, I run. Discovering several weeks later that he left a little part of himself inside of me is even more terrifying than my half-brother finding me.

Wraith -- I’m not the settling down type. Maybe once upon a time, but not anymore. While I was serving overseas, my sister was left for dead in a gutter. I failed her. Failed my parents, who made me promise to protect her before they breathed their last. Now I’m faced with Rin, the strongest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. She needs a protector, and I’ll gladly be that for her. I want her. Want to keep her and make her mine. I’ve fucked my share of women over the years, but I’ve never made love to one. Until her. But I’m no good for her, or anyone else. She thinks she’s not worthy of me, but it’s the other way around. Then she runs and I feel like a piece of my soul has been ripped out. Finding her won’t be easy, but I won’t stop until she’s back in my home, in my bed. And I’ll make sure that every asshole who ever laid a hand on her is buried six feet under or rotting in prison. No one will ever hurt her again.

It never occurred to me that I would be the asshole to hurt her. I stopped believing in Christmas miracles a long time ago, but now I really need one. I need Rin back, and I’ll do anything to make her mine.

Warning: Bondage. Spanking. Anal sex. Over the top, melt your e-reader, make your panties wet sex. If you don’t like those things, this book probably isn’t for you.

Coming November 30th to Changeling Press
and December 7th to online retailers

Guest Spot: Virgin Under the Mistletoe by Paige Warren

Danika

Killian Reid. Even saying his name makes my panties damp. He has to be the sexiest man I've ever met, even if he is twenty-one years older than me. I've been crushing on him since I was fifteen. For six years, my Christmas wish has been for Killian to notice me. I never thought it was possible – until now.

Killian

Holy hell! It was supposed to be a quick peck on the lips under some mistletoe, but damn. Little Danika Parker isn't all that little anymore, with curves in all the right places. I’m pretty sure I’ll be reliving that hot as fuck kiss for a while. This Christmas, the only present I want to unwrap is her.

Stand-alone novella, no cliffhanger, no cheating, dual POV

Amazon / B&N / iTunes / Kobo

 

Excerpt

Killian hung some mistletoe in the living room doorway and I smiled sadly. I wouldn’t be sharing kisses with anyone this year. The only people likely to stop by my house were either my friend, Bethany, or my parents. Kissing any of them, other than on the cheek, was out of the question.

Killian’s brow arched again and he pointed up at it. “You’re just going to leave me hanging here? It’s tradition.”

“I think the tradition is that if two people get caught under the mistletoe they have to share a kiss. You’re all alone over there.”

“You could rectify that.”

Smiling a little, I walked toward him and stopped under the mistletoe. Even on tiptoe I couldn’t reach him, but he bent down and met me halfway. I leaned up to kiss him on the cheek, but he turned his head at the last minute and our lips met. Fire sizzled through me at the contact and I clutched at his shirt to hold on. Killian’s lips moved against mine and his tongue flicked out, asking for entry. I parted my lips and welcomed him in.

My toes curled against the carpet as his kiss left me dizzy and wanting more. My thoughts spun in different directions as I tried to process what was happening. He’d never shown me any interest before, but I knew this was a moment I would remember for the rest of my life. Kissing Killian was better than anything I’d ever imagined.

Killian drew away, his arm still around my waist. His eyes were dark with passion as he smiled down at me. I felt like I should say something, but my brain was still catching up. He pressed another kiss to my lips then backed away, shoving his hands back into his pockets. My hand lifted and touched my lips as I watched him.

“Now you’ve had your first Christmas kiss of the year,” he said.

“It will likely be my only Christmas kiss this year.”

“Pity. You do it so well.”

My cheeks warmed again.

“Well, Miss Parker. Anything else you need help with around here?”

I could think of something he could help me with, but I didn’t think he was referring to my damp panties. I’d have been more than happy for him to take them off and make me scream his name the rest of the afternoon. I might have sworn off guys, but Killian was in a category all his own. If he wanted to rock my world, I would let him.

“The only thing I have left is the dining room,” I said. “It’s just a tablecloth and placemats though, so I can handle that.”

“Then I guess my work here is done. Call me if you need anything else.”

Anything like what exactly? Was that an open-ended invitation to call him, or only for Christmas related things?

Killian hesitated only a moment before giving me another smirk and walking out the door. I peered through the front window and watched him back down the driveway, heading out. When I couldn’t see his truck anymore, I faced my empty home. A house that felt far emptier now that he’d been in it and then left.

What would it take to make a guy like Killian stick around?

New Release - Chasing Christmas (a gay holiday romance)

Genre: Paranormal
Themes: Christmas, New Adult, Gay, Shapeshifter
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Publisher: Changeling Press

College senior and ocelot shifter Beck Prescott is home for the holidays, but there’s only one present he wants to find under his tree — his sexy neighbor, Chris Wilcox. Even though the wolf shifter is older than Beck, Beck knows they’re destined to be together.

Getting Chris to agree is another matter, but Christmas is the time for miracles, and Beck thinks this is the year he may get his fondest wish. A mate.

Available Now at Changeling Press

Pre-Order for December 8th at Amazon, B&N, iTunes, and Kobo

Excerpt

Beck Prescott couldn’t decide if he was elated to be home because it meant spying on his super sexy neighbor, or being filled with dread because he knew his parents would ask, once more, if he’d found his mate. Truth be told, he’d known since he was sixteen who his mate was, but he had fuck all chance of landing the sexy beast. Their neighbor, Chris Wilcox, hardly knew he existed. They’d barely spoken aside from a random hello here and there over the years. And was it any wonder? Chris had to be close to his parents’ age. Not that he looked a day over thirty, despite the silver at his temples.

He peered through his bedroom window and into the house next door. It just happened to be that Chris’s bedroom was directly across from Beck’s, which had been both a pleasure and a torture for the last five years. The object of his obsession was doing pull-ups in the bedroom doorway, his abs rippling with the movement. Beck licked his lips and pressed his hand against the growing erection in his jeans. It wasn’t the first time he’d wondered what it would feel like to be held by such strong arms. The few guys he’d been with couldn’t compare.

Chris did several more pull-ups before dropping to the ground and grabbing a nearby towel to wipe the sweat from his face and body. Beck wondered where Paul was — Chris’s significant other. Even though he knew Paul sometimes went out of town for business, it seemed odd he’d be gone during the holidays.

“Beck!” his mother yelled up the stairs. “I know you’re here. Your car is in the driveway.”

He sighed and pushed away from the window, making his way downstairs. His mother stood at the bottom, her arms folded and her foot tapping. The look of displeasure on her face was completely his doing, mostly because he’d been avoiding her.

“Were you going to hide up there until you starved?” she asked.

“I was going to come tell you hello,” Beck said. “I needed to put my things away.” And do a little drooling over Mr. Sexy.

“Your father and I have to go out tonight. A dinner with his law firm,” his mom said. “I’ve made some spaghetti and it’s in the fridge. All you have to do is warm it up. There’s a loaf of Italian bread in the pantry, if you’d like some to go with it.”

“You didn’t have to cook for me if you had plans,” Beck said. “I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

She patted his cheek. “You’ll always be my baby boy. I’m going to be busy the next few days planning the Christmas Eve party, so I won’t get to spend much time with you until Christmas Day.”

“It’s fine, Mom. I know how to entertain myself.” Mostly by looking out his bedroom window. “Besides, we’ll have almost a full week after the party before I have to return to campus.”

“I’ve delivered all of the invitations except one,” his mom said. “Will you take this one over to Mr. Wilcox? I’ve been in such a rush I overlooked it.”

She handed him a red envelope with silver writing across the front. Beck took the invitation and smoothed a hand down his wrinkled shirt. He grabbed his leather coat off the hook by the door and pulled it on before stepping out into the snow. Little did his mother realize she’d just given him the best present ever: a reason to talk to their neighbor.

Beck trudged through the ankle-deep snow and walked up the icy steps of Chris Wilcox’s home. He rang the bell and waited, stomping his feet to keep the blood flowing. Shifter or not, it was damn cold outside.

The door swung open and a shirtless Chris stood in the doorway. “Beck. I didn’t realize you were back home.”

“Christmas break, but it’s my senior year, so it won’t be long before I’m back for good. Or at least until I get my own place.”

Chris nodded. “You’re what? Twenty-one now?”

“Only for another month.” Beck held out the envelope. “Mom wanted me to bring this by. It’s your invitation to the Christmas Eve party she throws every year.”

Chris reached out to take it, his fingers brushing against Beck’s. It was enough to make the young shifter shiver, and not from the cold. Chris’s gaze raked over him as he opened the envelope. He scanned the contents of the invitation and frowned a little.

“I’m afraid Paul will not be attending with me,” Chris said.

“Is Mr. Murphy out of town?” Beck asked.

“Yes. Indefinitely.” Chris’s gaze locked on his. “Paul and I are no longer together.”

Beck’s heart leapt at the words, but he tried to hide his excitement. “I’m sorry. I know the two of you were together a long time.”

Chris shrugged. “He found his mate.”

“Maybe you’ll find yours,” Beck said, his voice low as he held the older shifter’s gaze. Beck thought it might be his imagination, but the shifter’s eyes seem to warm as he stared back. He wondered what it would take to not only gain the attention of someone like Chris, but to hold it.