Showing posts with label first love. Show all posts

Monday, June 16, 2025

The Teacher Inside Me Review #GayBookPromotions

NEW RELEASE

Book Title: The Teacher Inside Me

Author and Publisher: Anthony Auswat

Cover Artist: Anne Channarong

Release Date: June 11, 2025

Tense/POV: first person, present tense, single POV

Genres: MM Dark Romance, Mystery/Suspense, Queer Psychological Thriller, Taboo, Coming-of-Age

Tropes: Student/teacher, forbidden love, power imbalance, age gap, first love, coming out

Themes: Obsession, power and control, desire vs. morality, reputation and ruin, queer identity, boundaries, masculinity

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 71 000 words/322 pages

It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Universal Link

A forbidden student-teacher obsession.

A queer coming-of-age thriller.

A story that lingers like a bruise you can't stop touching.

Blurb

Liam is just trying to finish high school and keep his secrets to himself. Mr. Hilton, his English teacher, is everything Liam shouldn't want—straight, married, and way off-limits—but possibly...interested. What starts as an innocent crush blurs into something more real, more intense, and more dangerous than either of them can control.

Because some lines should not be crossed. Some lessons can't be unlearned. And some desires come at a terrible price.

The Teacher Inside Me is an emotionally charged LGBTQ+ psychological thriller about longing, power, and the darkness within us all.

Originally racking up 2.6 million reads by a global audience on Wattpad before it was banned, this newly revised and completely uncensored edition invites you back into the shadows—rawer, deeper, and more haunting than ever.

This is the book they tried to bury—but The Teacher Inside Me is too disruptive to ever disappear.

Excerpt

I can’t believe he’s wearing that cologne again. Today of all days. A test day. A day when we get handed an exam with a series of questions about the Anton Chekhov play, The Seagull. A day when we have to scribble answers in the form of short essays to prove not only that we read the play from beginning to end but also that we thought about it deeply. First line: “Why do you always wear black?” Last line: “The fact is, he’s shot himself.” And everything in between.

I’m sitting in the front of the classroom, dead center, because we all were randomly assigned seats at the beginning of the school year and I guess I happened to be unlucky. Never before have I willingly chosen to be this far up front, an open target for questions posed, stripped of the privilege of blending in. But in this class, I don’t mind all that much because it means I get to be close to Mr. Hilton, closer than any other student.

I can smell him from here, and it’s making me swoon. I know it’s an old-fashioned word, “swoon,” but that’s the best way to describe how I’m feeling. How am I going to make it through this test? The scent—his scent—has managed to crawl far up my nose. And that may sound like a complaint. But it’s not.

I’ve always been sensitive to smells. And when the smell is wafting from a man I find extremely attractive, a man in his early thirties who seems simultaneously young and mature, a man whose rugged stubble covers a boyish face, a man whose wavy dark brown hair is short enough to be considered clean-cut but long enough for someone like his wife to run her fingers through, a man whose slim blue jeans and red dress shirt reveal the contours of his fit body, a man who doesn’t belong in a quiet suburb of Los Angeles teaching English but does belong in between the pages of a men’s fashion magazine . . . well . . .

The room is spinning a little, the way it does when I sometimes get up out of bed too fast. A comforting warmth fills my entire head and melts down onto my shoulders and the rest of my body. My heart: is it beating faster? My stomach: is it tightening up? Down further: what?

To put it simply: his cologne is driving me crazy. Like I want to leap out of my chair, pin him against the chalkboard, and ram my tongue down his mouth so deep and so long that I could tell exactly what he had for breakfast. Gross, I know. But these are my thoughts. And if I can’t be honest in my thoughts, then life would suck even more than it does now. I mean, I can’t be honest in my words and actions. And that’s one of the reasons I can’t wait to graduate. To get out of this city, Point Liberty, where I was born and where I don’t want to die. I want to move to a place where nobody knows me and I can finally be myself.

Free use image from Open Clipart Vectors

Ornery Owl's Review

Rating: Five out of Five Stars

This book is absolutely, positively for readers 18+ only.

Now that we've got that out of the way, let's get into the review.

This book provides an exceptionally thrilling journey into the darkest areas of the troubled psyche. To write this story off as lurid, age-gap erotica penned to deliver a cheap thrill would do it a disservice. While it delves into a forbidden relationship that crosses multiple lines, there are deep subtleties in both the plot and characters. Despite being oversexed and often overly dramatic, the troubled actors in this passion play are not simple stereotypes. They are archetypes.

The story contains elements of comedy, drama, and tragedy. Past the midpoint, Liam's erotic obsession with Mr. Hilton takes a dark turn. The author adeptly uses foreshadowing in scene descriptions, employing light and dark elements to hint at something sinister lurking in the shadows. The story also contains dark comedy elements. It is more intellectual than I expected, including references to Anton Checkhov's works both literally and via the plot.

The author has had trouble with people attempting to ban his work. Although this story contains many startling elements, nothing about it warrants it being banned. I hope schools, particularly at the college level, will start teaching about the use of metaphor in literature and, above all, about engaging in critical thinking again. The literary world becomes boring when everything is overly sanitized.

About the Author

Anthony Auswat is the author of hot and dangerous gay thrillers, including The Teacher Inside Me and Hunter’s Hidden Camera—which collectively racked up more than three million reads on Wattpad before being banned. He lives in Los Angeles, where he writes under a pen name to protect the guilty, hide from his bosses, and get away with murder.

Social Media Links

Website | YouTube

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Friday, April 4, 2025

The Break of Dawn New Release Blitz #IndiGo

Title: The Break of Dawn

Author: Eule Grey

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 04/01/2025

Heat Level: 1 - No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 28400

Genre: Contemporary, British, Yorkshire, YSP, Art, Sculpture, Easter, Spring, second chances, new beginnings, first love, baby animals

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Description

Cora ‘I am all that I need’ Richards has a prison reputation for being an ice queen. She exists via a strict code of survival: people equal pain—the end. Surprises lead to disappointment; therefore, Cora won’t tolerate the unexpected. Friends? No. Lovers? Never. A hollow nighttime ache in her chest is bothersome, true, but the issue certainly isn’t caused by loneliness. Cora knows who she is and what she isn’t. She gladly accepts a placement at the Yorkshire Sculpture Park, not to meet the elusive artist, Sky Sunday, but to finish her prison sentence early. It’s work, nothing more.

But the breathtaking landscape, woolly lambs, fluffy ducklings, and friendly artists challenge a woman trying not to feel. Life at the Sculpture Park is vibrant, messy, and warm. Still, it would take someone extraordinary to melt an ice queen such as Cora—the end.

Sky Sunday wears dungarees and muddy yellow boots, talks in riddles, listens to Cora’s suggestions, and never belittles her. From the first awkward meeting, attraction sizzles between them. But Sky is rubbish at talking. So is Cora. How can two impenetrable women ever get close?

From dawn to dusk, the workers toil on a mysterious, humming sculpture, and nobody knows what it’s supposed to be. If they trust their instincts, Sky insists that something unique will happen on Easter Sunday. Cora abandons the last of her ice armour as dawn breaks, but is it too late to be vulnerable and take a second chance?

What happens when an ice queen and a fluffy chick kiss? Can Cora and Sky forget their past and begin a new life together? This story is not the end.

Excerpt

The Break of Dawn

February 1

It started with a shout.

“Richards! Gov’s office.”

The yell left a deafening silence in the dining hall. Chatter ceased, the insistent bang-bang of doors stopped, and even the pitter-patter of rain on the windows faded as if it knew that a shout from Miss Holmes always signalled terrible news, and especially for me—my prison release date was mere months away.

Potential crimes flashed through my mind. Had I left a mess in the kitchen during my shift? Did I piss someone off? Had my sentence been lengthened due to a technical hitch?

It wouldn’t be the first time they’d messed up the dates. Three sentences ago, a fight led to six additional weeks on the wing. Gah. The incident hadn’t been my fault. When someone insulted me, I fought back. If you didn’t stand up for yourself, you’d end up on the floor with a broken nose.

When the yell settled, the women gleefully nudged one another, glad to see me in trouble—I wasn’t popular.

My roommate, Jenny, tugged insistently at my standard prison-grey sleeve. “Cora. You better go. She sounds pissed.”

We exchanged worried looks. I stood as if to head to the office but legged it to our room instead, my stomach clenching about the bottle of hooch brewing beneath my bed. Jenny and I had started the brew a few weeks before. I’d reckoned we could celebrate my release with a few drinks. After eight months of sharing a cell, we’d grown pretty close. As close as I allowed people, anyway, which meant a chasm the size of a planet crouched between us. We were very different. Jenny carelessly revealed every facet of her life as we lay in our beds, whereas I shared bare essentials, such as my favourite brand of chocolate. Stuffed animals covered her bed while mine was bare. Enough said.

The hooch was not the problem. Bubbling quietly and consistently, our concoction hadn’t been discovered. Hooch constituted a minor offence anyway. What the hell else had I done?

The officer shouted again, more aggressively. “Richards! Gov’s office.”

The tone of her voice pissed me off. I wouldn’t go without a fight. Yeah, I should’ve accepted defeat and walked to the office with a sorry expression. Only a spanner with a death wish as strong as the undead would have ignored a call from the governor. I didn’t say sorry or play nice. Thirty-two was too old to change the habits of a lifetime.

Jenny thundered into our cell, banging the door behind her. “Did someone snitch? You better go before you get a warning.” At forty, she was serving her first sentence, naïve as a baby. Jenny still believed the prison rules existed to protect us, bless her cotton socks.

I made myself comfy on the bed. “Nope. Miss Snotty Holmes will have to come and fetch me.”

Years of practice in front of a mirror hadn’t been wasted. I could steel my face into an impenetrable fortress without much effort. Nobody saw the real me, the kid who’d cried during beatings and hoped her momma would visit at the children’s home over Christmas time.

Needless to say, my weak years were a very long time ago.

Jenny adopted her melting-biscuit look. She was pretty, with an expressive face that hid nothing. My helpful lessons about concealing one’s feelings hadn’t done anything for her. She cried or shouted wilfully, drawing attention, revealing weaknesses and vulnerabilities she should’ve kept hidden. I’d probably have demanded a new cellmate months ago if she wasn’t so kind. Oh, I didn’t like her—god forbid. Jenny was inoffensive to live with. Like and dislike had become irrelevant feelings to me. But she never gave up trying to improve or save me, the poor woman.

Jenny hovered at my bedside, looking like the apocalypse was coming, bristling with kindness. “Go and see what Miss wants? Maybe it’s good news. You know they’ve been handing out certificates from education this week? You did well in your exams.” She nodded encouragingly as if I were a silly kid needing a hug rather than a tough bitch who could cope with any amount of trouble. Bring it on.

She lunged. I held my breath, willing her not to touch. Jenny had a crush on me. It wasn’t unusual. Most women inside welcomed a ‘special relationship’ with a roommate. Not me. Jenny had attempted many touchy-feely incidents over the months. Obviously, I’d ignored them all. Whether hand-holding or hair brushing, every contact was disgusting to me. Why would I welcome another woman’s baggage on top of my own? No. It was better to be alone than abandoned. Hugs equalled pain. The end.

Jenny attempted a sudden, unexpected hug. “Aww, babe.”

I held up a practised iron fist. “Don’t touch me and never call me babe.” It was laughable and sad how she shrank back, believing I would hurt her. I never would. Jenny might be a nuisance, but she didn’t deserve or need a slap, only a little reminder now and then about boundaries.

She abruptly drew her hand back. “I just wanted—” She sounded wounded, almost tearful.

The grief in her eyes was too much. I closed my eyes.

“Yeah, well, don’t tell me because I’m as interested as a cardboard box would be. I’m having a nap if anyone asks.”

It was a relief to shut her out. Why women wanted to be special, I’d never understand. Yuck.

I began silently counting. At six hundred, a stern voice broke my concentration.

“Didn’t you hear? The gov wants you in her office.”

I swung my legs off my bed and crammed cold feet into my shoes. “I didn’t hear, Miss. On my way.”

What had been gained from the extra few moments alone? Even I didn’t understand myself. Maybe it was part of my nature to rebel, or perhaps every victory, however tiny, kept me going. I was a narky cow. The end.

Jenny watched me silently and reproachfully. As I passed her, I stuck out my tongue. She rolled her eyes.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Eule Grey has settled, for now, in the north UK. She’s worked in education, justice, youth work, and even tried her hand at butter-spreading in a sandwich factory. Sadly, she wasn’t much good at any of them! She writes novels, novellas, poetry, and a messy combination of all three. Nothing about Eule is tidy but she rocks a boogie on a Saturday night! For now, Eule is she/her or they/them. Eule has not yet arrived at a pronoun that feels right.

Website | Facebook | Twitter

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Sunday, March 30, 2025

Stolen Dreams Review #GayBookPromotions

BLOG TOUR

Book Title: Stolen Dream

Author: Oliver Takely

Publisher: MM Romance Press

Cover Artist: Emily’s World of Design

Release Date: March 5, 2025

Tense/POV: Third person, dual POV

Genres: Contemporary MM Romance

Tropes: Forbidden love, first times, demisexual rep, found family

Themes: Second chance romance

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 60 000 words

It is book three of the Soho Knights Series. Books four and five are scheduled in 2025.

The book ends on a cliffhanger for the series, but not for the couple.

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

AMAZON US | AMAZON UK

Blurb

At just eighteen, Paolo and Max meet at a conversion therapy camp. Abandoned by their families. left to endure literal hell on earth, their love is forbidden. Their secret romance grows and as they make plans to escape, they are brutally torn apart.

They both spend the next twelve years building lives in different worlds. Paolo in the vibrant heart of Soho, London, surrounded by his found family, and Max thriving as a successful criminal lawyer in the bustling streets of New York. Both of them believing they’ve lost the love of their life forever.

Max finds himself in London after defending a mobster, which leads to an offer he literally can’t refuse. Needing thinking time before his fate is sealed, he unexpectedly crosses paths with Paolo again. The spark between them reignites, yet their reunion is fraught with challenges, and even the magical backdrop of the holidays may not be enough for them to get their second chance at love. With Paolo's sister at risk of suffering the same fate they endured, the stakes are even higher.

Stolen Dream is a tale of resilience, forbidden love, and the fight for a future that embraces who they truly are. Will they save Paolo's sister in time, and can they find a way to be together, against all odds? Join them on this emotional journey of hope and redemption, where stolen dreams may just lead to a love worth fighting for.

Excerpt

KC greeted Paolo with a big hug when he arrived. She was such a wonderful woman, who had been through more than all his brothers put together. The bravery it took for her to transition in the nineties had Paolo in awe of her.

“What are you doing here on a Saturday?”

“I’m meeting an . . . an old friend.”

“Old boyfriend?” She smiled.

Paolo felt his face heating. She leant forward and whispered to him.

“Well, if it’s the guy who just walked in who looks like he wants to eat you, then I think I’ve got my answer.”

Paolo spun around and there was Max. He hadn’t gotten a proper look last night with the shock. Max had always had a broad build, but now he was built like a rugby player, with wide shoulders and a tapered waist. His hazel eyes were as captivating as they had been twelve years ago. Max smiled at him, showing those perfect dimples in his pinchable cheeks. He was clean-shaven, unlike Paolo who’d had a short beard for the last five years. His face was too babyish when he was clean-shaven.

“Can I give you a hug?” asked Max.

Paolo was too choked up, so he just nodded, and Max wrapped his big, muscular arms around him. They were the same height, but even though Paolo had packed on the muscle over the last few years, Max almost smothered him – albeit in a good way. He was wearing a citrusy aftershave, and he could happily stay like this in Max’s arms forever.

When the hug was bordering on being far too long for a public setting, they pulled apart and both smiled. Paolo gestured to a nearby table he’d claimed when he arrived. He made eye contact with KC, who gave him a warm smile and touched her heart. Paolo rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

“Thank you for seeing me,” said Max.

Was he nervous? This wasn’t how he remembered him. Max had been the strong one when they’d been in the camp. It wasn’t just Paolo who looked up to him; it was everyone. Paolo wasn’t sure what to say. He felt tongue tied, so he grabbed a menu, passing one to Max. He knew the menu by heart, but Max didn’t need to know that.

“Did you want to get something to eat?” asked Paolo. That was a safe conversation starter.

“I am always hungry.”

He smiled, and then a dark shadow appeared in his eyes. It was clear a memory had hit him. One they shared. Paolo needed to get things back on track. Today was not a day to go down memory lane.

“Everything’s amazing here. KC is the best cook in the world.”

“That’s a bold claim. I’ll have to let Mason know.”

“Mason?”

“He’s a Michelin starred chef in New York.”

“How do you know him?”

Max took hold of Paolo’s hand. It felt strange, yet familiar.

“Mason’s just a friend. I’m not with anyone.”

“That’s not . . . I didn’t mean . . .” Ugh, why couldn’t he get his words out?

Perhaps sensing his struggle, Max suggested they order. He let go of Paolo’s hand and Paolo missed the touch instantly. How could this be happening? He’d not had butterflies or any of these feelings for twelve years.

About the Author

Oliver Takely is a passionate MM romance author who revels in dark, edgy stories featuring complex, flawed characters. With years of writing experience and a creative day job, Oliver Takely is also an avid reader of MM romance, consuming 300 books in both 2023 and 2024. His favourite trope is enemies to lovers, but is also a sucker for a feel-good Christmas romance.

Originally from the north, Oliver now resides in the south of England with his husband and their beloved fur baby, who is treated like a princess, living their own happily-ever-after straight out of a romance novel. When not writing or reading, he enjoys holidays and indulging in lots of good food, because who doesn’t love a delicious combination?

Author Links

Website | Facebook | Instagram

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Ornery Owl's Review

Rating: Four out of Five Stars

This is an intense story that discusses conversion therapy, an abusive practice intended to make a homosexual person heterosexual. The protagonists, Max and Paolo, meet in a conversion therapy camp run by the creepy, sadistic Father Moretti. I quickly clocked Father Moretti as a self-righteous, closeted homosexual. As the story progresses, he's revealed to be even worse than I initially thought.

The concept is compelling, the storytelling is engaging, and the author creates characters the reader cares about. The story contains several wonderful "Oh, my heart!" moments and intense surprises.

My reasons for giving the story four stars rather than five are subjective rather than objective. I would have liked more non-sexual interaction between Max and Paolo. While the author made it clear that there was a strong emotional bond between them rather than a strictly sexual attraction, I would have liked to have seen a bit more of the non-steamy side of their relationship.

While I understand Paolo's obsession with his physique, his discussions about diet and exercise were a little overwhelming for someone who struggles with body image and an eating disorder.

I recommend Stolen Dream for readers who like an intense contemporary romance that tackles real-world issues and don't mind when things get dark. Because of adult themes and explicit sexual content, the book is not suitable for readers younger than eighteen.

Tuesday, August 13, 2024

Wild Ginger In the Rhubarb New Release Blitz #IndiGo

Title: Wild Ginger in the Rhubarb

Author: Eule Grey

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 08/13/2024

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 23600

Genre: Contemporary, contemporary, romance, lesbian/sapphic, butch/femme, detective, gin-maker, bikes/bike shop, siblings, first love, secrets, family drama, sweet, steamy, summer fete, flip-flop love, synaesthesia

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Description

The rules for ex-undercover cops are clear: No girlfriend, no sex, no snuggles—too risky for everyone concerned. After a year of spying on gangsters, tough Charlie couldn’t agree more. She doesn’t want a girlfriend or a relationship; she only needs power tools and a job in her brother’s bike shop.

Still, it’s difficult to leave the past behind. Charlie feels bad about betraying the gangster’s trust. Guilt comes with the job. So what? When a gorgeous gin artist becomes a neighbour, wanting to help is natural. Fix the fridge—yeah. Sexual attraction? Nope. Girlfriend? Double nope. All that matters is following the rules: No girlfriend, no sex, no sharing. Repeat.

Rose loves summer flowers, gin, pretty clothes, and butch lesbians. Owning a cocktail shop is a dream come true, even if the responsibility is tricky for one person to bear. If only she had friends and family! A caring friend would be extremely welcome to fix the fridge and put up the shelves. It’s strange how Charlie smells of wild ginger and Rose of sweet rhubarb, like an award-winning gin.

Rose has secrets, too, about the past. She doesn’t intend to cuddle up with Charlie. It’s just that the heart wants what the heart wants. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

One thing is certain… When wild ginger gets in the rhubarb, nothing can stop it.

Excerpt

Wild Ginger in the Rhubarb
Eule Grey © 2024
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
Raspberry and Apple

Rose

Rose had never been more nervous. The uncomfortable bus journey from her dingy bedsit, which had been ‘home’ for the last three months, to a fabulous new shop took forever, or at least it seemed so. She expected something awful to happen with every jolt—engine trouble, catastrophic floods, planetary annihilation…

An abundant, gingery aroma soon ascended the suncream most people had liberally applied because of the heatwave. It was a trick of the senses, nothing more. As a child, Rose’s family had joked about her uncanny ability to identify flowers at a distance and how she’d associated strong smells with people. Dad was apple, Fionn, ginger.

A pang went through her when she remembered her family. She missed them, particularly Fionn, her twin, though it had been years since they’d been together. Rose glanced among the other passengers, looking eagerly for him anyway. If only he were here! She could have done with the support of family on today of all days. Ah, well.

The new shop door key had become embedded in her sweaty palm as if engraved forever. Legalities had long been finalised, contracts signed, and the deposit paid. Nevertheless, Rose couldn’t lose the certainty that something was bound to go wrong.

Because today meant everything. Everything. Ever since she was a small girl, her ambition had been to own and manage a business. The details of her fantasy changed with the years—spacewoman, dancer, nurse—but the dream remained: to begin work each morning hopeful, knowing exactly how the day would go. No bitchy managers or impossible targets, just blissful days spent doing what she loved, cocooned with the scent of flowers and herbs, in charge of her destiny at last.

It had taken years to save for a deposit while learning the ancient art of ginmaking. Rose planned to build a small but loyal customer following at the shop on the high street next to a greengrocer. It would be lovely to hire an assistant, though she became quite nauseous at the thought of interviews. How would she know which candidate to pick? As a girl, she’d been useless at spotting a rogue from a sweetheart despite her status as the daughter of a gangster. No amount of lost dinner money or brotherly ‘lessons’ had made her a better judge of character.

To give herself something to think about other than Fionn, she planned an itinerary once inside the shop. First, scrub the rooms from top to bottom, then arrange some dried flowers in elegant bowls. A new venture required lavender, lemon balm, and jasmine to lift the mood and welcome in the summer. Once the place was fragrant, she could buy a cheap sleeping bag and work out where to sleep. With all of her savings used up, she reckoned she could live at the shop until the money started coming in.

Two women sitting close together across the bus aisle from Rose interrupted her daydreams. They were holding hands, giggling, and sharing stories. The elder wore a sleeveless top, which revealed an impressively muscular physique; the younger a short, pretty dress Rose might have chosen for herself. They fit together perfectly, brawn, snuggling petite. If Rose had to guess their scents, she’d have selected clematis with olive.

She could hardly tear her gaze away. The big woman slung an arm around her girlfriend’s shoulders, kissing the top of her nose. She caught Rose staring and winked.

With a start, Rose looked away, embarrassed. A familiar ache entered her plans and then her lonely heart. If only she had someone to share her days—a woman with a loyal, caring fierceness who wouldn’t mind Rose had been born into a family of gangsters. Truth was, she was too nervous to meet such a woman. What if they found out about her infamous family? No. Life was too hectic anyway. A new business took much energy and time. Once established, she could better consider matters of the heart.

The bus finally trundled into the town centre. Rose walked with unsteady legs and a smile. She still expected a catastrophe to prevent her from reaching the shop, but the short walk had gone swimmingly. It was another hot day, with an azure sky, birds singing, and everywhere, laughing shoppers. The street boasted a busy, peaceful atmosphere, with a green park at one end and a cosy café at the other—a perfect location for a speciality gin shop: Gin, Gin. The whole area had recently been renovated. The grand opening ceremony was due midsummer, with a parade and a street party for all vendors planned, not that Rose would be going—she was far too shy.

Even without the extra sales the carnival would bring, Rose had a clear business plan. Shoppers could pop in after a long day or when they needed a special gift. Where better to purchase an individualised tipple made with love and care? Her gins were like no other. Long ago, she’d discovered how to listen to a story and identify what the person wanted through flowers and scents. Orange blossom to heal a jealous heart, honeysuckle for courage, mixed berries for love. Personalised gins offered a fun means to reach one’s goals. Rose adored making people smile better than anything else.

She reached the shop before noticing the monstrosity dumped on her doorstep—a rusty old bike covered with mud and grime. Some of the muck had rubbed onto her green door. Determined not to let an ancient bike ruin her day, she wheeled the contraption to a nearby communal bin, scribbled a quick note, rubbish, and attached it to the frame before hurrying back to the green door. Hers at last!

A bubble of happiness rose from her chest, lifting her from lingering worries. As she slotted her key into the lock, she hoped it was the moment she’d dreamed about, the event which would facilitate a happy, fulfilled life free from grime and crime. Her certainty was reinforced by the lime freshness zinging in the air and the faraway hint of a smoky bonfire.

Just as Rose stepped happily onto the shop’s threshold to begin her new life, an angry shout came from the bins.

“Oi! What the hell? I want a word with you, missus.”

Rose turned with alarm. A strapping, tattooed woman lifted the rusty bike from the bin with one hand and then stalked across, wearing heavy combat boots that might’ve been at home on an army base. Her expression became contorted by anger, and her fists were tightly clenched.

Fearing the worst, Rose did what she always did at times of crisis—she ran—straight into the shop, where she locked the door behind her. “Sorry! I thought it was scrap.” Please go away, please go away. An overwhelming scent of ginger almost caused her to gag. Mentally, she returned to ten years old, locked in the bathroom with Fionn and a bottle of ginger fizzy pop as the police kicked down the front door, searching for their parents.

Meanwhile, the muscled woman thumped rudely on the door. “Scrap indeed. How dare you. Don’t touch our bikes!”

Rose sank to the floor, hoping fervently the woman would disappear. Not for the first time, she wished she were braver, more able to assert herself instead of running at the first sign of trouble. But she didn’t know how to achieve the goal, and nobody was around to offer support. Not even honeysuckle had helped her be more assertive despite keeping bunches of the stuff in her underwear drawer.

After a while, ordinary street sounds returned: children laughing, birdsong, an ice cream vendor shouting his wares. Rose eventually peered outside, first from the window and then through the glass in the door. Once she was sure the woman had moved away, she gradually opened the door, blinking into the bright sunshine like a bear after hibernation.

The pavement was now littered with bikes, and it became apparent why. The shop next door was no longer a greengrocer but a bike shop. The tattooed woman stood inside, cleaning the window. When she saw Rose, she placed her hands on herculean hips, glaring like a Greek goddess, emanating anger and something else Rose tried hard to forget—the smell of ginger, different from Fionn’s but ginger nonetheless.
Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Website | Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway

One lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Monday, February 12, 2024

D. B. and Me Recent Release Blitz #GayBookPromotions

RECENT RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: D.B. and Me

Publisher: JMS Books

Cover Artist: Rob Rosen

Release Date: January 20, 2024

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance, true crime, suspense, mystery

Tropes: Age gap, first love

Themes: First time love, second chances, reconciliation

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 57 000 words

It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.

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In the gripping tale of D.B. and Me, the enigmatic hijacker, D.B. Cooper, parachutes into the unknown with $200,000 in ransom money, but little does he know that his daring escape is just the beginning of an unforeseen journey filled with mystery, suspense, and steamy romance.

Blurb

D.B., now Tim, finds himself along the banks of the Columbia River attempting to fade into the shadows. However, fate has other plans when he encounters Adam, a charismatic stranger who’s also in hiding. The air becomes charged with anticipation as the two men become entangled in a mysterious dance, each harboring secrets that could shatter the fragile equilibrium they've quickly established.

Tim's initial plans to vanish into the vast expanse of Canada are abruptly put on hold as the magnetic pull of Adam draws him into a world where passion and danger collide. As their connection deepens while they wander through the snow-covered forests of the Pacific Northwest, so does the labyrinth of unanswered questions surrounding their pasts. The suspense thickens with every stolen glance, every shared secret, as Tim and Adam navigate a love affair shadowed by the lingering echoes of several daring crimes, all against the backdrop of the Vietnam War.

As the story unfolds, readers are taken on a heart-pounding journey through a landscape of intrigue, where the line between right and wrong blurs, and the boundaries of love are tested. Will Tim's past catch up with him, will Adam’s, or will they find a way to rewrite the narrative that destiny has penned for them?

D.B. and Me is a riveting exploration of love in the face of danger, a tale where passion and suspense interweave, leaving readers breathless and eagerly turning each page to unravel the secrets hidden within the folds of this captivating romance. Will Tim find redemption or be swallowed by the sadness of his past? And what about Adam and his troubled family and the ever-nagging reminders of a horrible war that still plague him? Dive into the depths of mystery and desire in this thrilling novel that will keep you on the edge until the very end.

Excerpt

I could hear the door kick in, could hear the rush of them as they swarmed the house. “Move,” I whispered to him.

“Move?”

I grabbed his hand again. This time when we crawled, we didn’t have a choice. If they came with dogs, we were screwed. For now, we had a fighting chance. It was dark as pitch beneath the house, but there was only one way to go: away.

A minute went by, two. No one was following us. The sounds of the police began to fade, though I could still hear them inside the house. Sounded like they were searching for something. The pounding in my chest continued. “Where are we Adam?” I heard from behind me.

I stopped crawling. “Better question, are the police here for you or for me?”

There was the slightest of pauses. “Why you?” he whispered.

“Why you?” I whispered back.

He chuckled. All in all, not perfect timing. “I sure do know how to pick ‘em.”

I kept crawling. “To be fair, I found you.”

“To be fair,” he replied, “I chose to stay.” He sighed. “It was the old man in the store. Had to be.”

We came to the end of the road. Or at least the end of the tunnel. I’d say we were about five hundred feet or so away from the house and deeper in the woods. The tunnel was maybe two feet high and three feet wide. There were clothes stashed there, a couple of jackets, some money, bullets. This was my emergency tunnel. This was clearly my emergency. Or his. Either way, we were now both being chased.

I handed him the clothes in the dark. We got dressed and I pocketed the cash in my wallet, my wallet in my pants. I handed him his wallet. I shoved the gun in the backpack. We again listened for the police. By then, all I could hear was our heavy breathing.

“So,” he said.

“So?”

He tapped my shoulder. “You know how you asked me if I ever had a boyfriend?”

I grinned. The tunnel smelled like earth, but I could still detect the slightest scent of Tim. “You think now is a good time to revisit that conversation?”

I could hear him moving around behind me. I could hear the backpack scraping the tunnel’s walls. I heard it hit the ground. I heard him rummaging around inside it just before I saw another beam of light. Thankfully, it was his, a flashlight lit for me to see, the light now illuminating our dirtied, sweaty faces.

“You look like shit,” I said.

“I don’t feel a hell of a lot better,” he replied. “Will you be my boyfriend, Adam?”

I laughed as quietly as was possible. “I think this might be your oddest segue yet, Tim,” I told him. “The police are chasing one of us. We’re in a tunnel in the woods in the middle of the night. This is not what I would consider a romantic setting.”

He shook his head. He reached up and wiped the matted hair from my face. “Yeah, but will you be my boyfriend, just the same?”

I sighed. “Tim,” I said. “I’d have sex you right now if you asked me. I’d do anything you asked me, in fact. Ours, I would say, does not seem like a healthy relationship. So, yeah, that’s a yes.” I blinked. “There a reason for all this?”

He nodded. “I need to show you something, but I wanted to make sure it was safe to show you.”

“And,” I said, “you figured it would be safer if we were boyfriends?”

His nod turned shrug. “Sounded better in my head, but yes.” He leaned in, kissed me, kissed me again. “Plus,” he said, still panting from our recent exertion, “if I were to die, say in the next few minutes or so, at least I had that. With you.”

“I don’t think we’re going to die in the next few minutes,” I told him. “If they had found the tunnel, we would’ve known about it already. Pretty well hidden. You gotta know exactly where to look.”

“Or listen,” he said. “Because that does explain the groaning I’d so recently heard when I sat in that chair you moved out of the way before we ducked and covered.”

“Old house,” I said. “Groans everywhere. Besides, why even look for a hidden tunnel in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. Seems to me, it’s not the first thought that would come to mind.” Which is why I built it in the first place. Apart from the obvious reason: escape.

“Still.”

It was my turn to lean in and kiss him, then kiss him again. Too bad the tunnel was so narrow, or I could’ve seriously had some fun him. Instead, I said, “Okay, point taken. In any case, for now, we are still alive and newly minted boyfriends, so, care to show me whatever it was you were going to show me?”

“Why are the police chasing you, Adam?”

“I killed a man,” I told him after the briefest of pauses. Felt good to tell him. Felt good to say it out loud. My belly unknotted, if only by a hair.

“You killed seventeen men,” he replied.

I shook my head. “I killed the eighteenth after those. And here. In the United States, I mean. And why are the police chasing you?”

With his free hand, he reached inside the backpack. When the hand reemerged, it was clenched around a thick stack of bills. I peeked inside the backpack, and all I saw was green. The forest around us quaked in apparent envy.

“I hijacked a plane,” he said.

About the Author

Multi-award-winning and best-selling author/editor/anthologist Rob Rosen is the author of Sparkle: The Queerest Book You'll Ever Love, Divas Las Vegas, Hot Lava, Southern Fried, Queerwolf, Vamp, Queens of the Apocalypse, Creature Comfort, Fate, Midlife Crisis, Fierce, And God Belched, Mary, Queen of Scotch, Ted of the d'Urbervilles, Sort of Dead, Genie in a Vodka Bottle, Bobby Ray Breaks the Universe, and D.B. and Me. His short stories have appeared in more than 200 anthologies. You can read some of his best ones in Short Spurts, Short Spurts 2, and Short Spurts 3. He is also the editor of Lust in Time: Erotic Romance Through the Ages, Men of the Manor, Best Gay Erotica 2015 and Best Gay Erotica of the Year, Volumes 1, 2, 3 and 4.

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Wednesday, September 13, 2023

Foot Work Release Blitz #GayBookPromotions

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Footwork

Author: TA Moore

Publisher: Rogue Firebird Press

Cover Artist: Tammy Moore

Release Date: September 10, 2023

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance

Tropes: First Love, Second Chance, Bad Boy, Grumpy One and Sunshine One

Themes: Forgiveness, second chances, family, redemption

Length: 57 000 words/ 90 pages

Heat Rating: 3 flames

It is a standalone book set in the same world/town as the Dirty Deeds series

It does not end on a cliffhanger

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When your ex-boyfriend finally has the life he always wanted, it would take a real asshole to interfere with that…but not like Bode’s ever said he’s not an asshole.

Blurb

Bode Harlan has never claimed to be a good guy, but he’s trying to keep his nose clean and his head down these days.

After a year in prison for assault--and to be fair, he did it--he isn’t looking to go back. Admittedly, his pretty face being the star attraction in an illegal underground fighting ring seems to run counter to that goal, but he’s gotta pay the bills and there ain’t much else he’s good at.

And it keeps his parole officer off his back…since she runs the place.

Then his mom skips town and her boyfriend kicks Bode’s 14 year old brother out on the street. Bode grew up in and out of foster care, he doesn’t want that for Danny. It’s not like he can take the kid in, though. He’s an ex-con who gets beat up twice a month for money. That’s how he ends up on his good-natured ex-boyfriend’s doorstep. Sonny is a soft touch. At least he always was for Bode. All he wants is somewhere to crash for a couple of nights, nothing more. Sonny’s got his life together now--a home, a boyfriend, even a dog--and it would take a real asshole to want to blow that up.

…of course, Bode’s never said he wasn’t an asshole.

Excerpt

SONNY SLAMMED THE door. Or tried to. Before it closed, Bode shoved his boot into the gap, and the heavy wood bounced off leather and bone.

Bode winced and had the balls to look put out. The cooking show Sonny had been halfway through rattled on in the background. It wasn’t the soundtrack that Sonny had imagined for his first reunion with his sort-of ex. That had either been Driver’s License or Bad Guy, depending on his mood.

“Why do you assume I want something?” Bode asked. His hair was shorter than it used to be—making it look darker, more red than ginger—and a bruise had just started to bloom around one of his eyes. At some point, Sonny knew it would fade down to a marshy green that nearly matched Bode’s eyes. He’d seen that happen before.

Back when Bode’s bruises had been Sonny’s business. That had been a while ago.

“Why else would you be here?” Sonny asked. He could hear it in his voice—the dredged-up hurt, the once-broken heart—but he doubted Bode would notice. It wasn’t the sort of thing he cared about. Other people and how what he did affected them were not Bode’s area of expertise. Sonny checked the time. “At nearly midnight.”

Bode shrugged, one-sided and laconic. “Maybe I wanted to tell you I’m out.”

“You’ve been out for three months,” Sonny said.

“Keeping tabs?” Bode asked with a slow, smug smile. It probably hurt as it creased along the edges of the bruise, but he didn’t let that stop him. “I didn’t know you still cared.”

“I don’t,” Sonny said. It wasn’t true. He cared, but that didn’t have to mean anything. It didn’t mean anything. “Just pointing out you’ve had plenty of time to drop by, yet this is the first time I’ve seen you. What happened? We keep missing each other?”

“You always got up too early for me.”

Sonny was surprised at how angry that made him. He wasn’t stupid. Bode knew that. So why stick to his stupid lie when they both knew Bode wouldn’t cross the street to see Sonny, not unless he had an ulterior motive. His temper felt like a head cold, the pressure of it at the back of his eyes. Usually it took him a long, grudging time to get mad about something, but Bode had been an asshole for years, so that pump was about ready to blow.

Except Sonny didn’t like it when he lost his temper. He didn’t like being out of control. It never ended well. He bit the inside of his cheek, a knot of old scar tissue from the habit gritty between his teeth, and throttled the hot emotion back.

“Right, well,” he said. “Whatever. If that was the only reason you’re here, job done. Now I know. I’m glad for you.”

He opened the door. Bode had the balls to look smug, as if he’d known that Sonny would come round. More fool him. Sonny braced his hands flat against Bode’s chest and gave him a shove that made him stagger backward.

“You can still fuck off,” Sonny repeated and slammed the door.

He turned around and leaned back against the door while he waited. On the TV screen, a woman in a white chef’s coat was trying to do something to a side of beef with a coat hanger. The dog had taken the opportunity to crawl up onto the couch and bury her head under a cushion, as if there was no way Sonny would see her whole ass sticking out.

Five.

Four.

Three.

The idea that he might have gotten it wrong—that Bode might have actually fucked off—had just started to nibble at the back of Sonny’s mind. He hated—really, honestly hated—that it would bother him if Bode had.

It wasn’t that he deluded himself that Bode couldn’t leave things unsaid with him—that was how Bode preferred to leave things. It was just that they’d known each other since they were kids, and Bode didn’t easily give up on anything he wanted. It would be weird if that changed now. No, the reason Bode was here was because he wanted something.

And two…

“I need somewhere to crash,” Bode said through the door. “Just for a couple of nights, until I sort something out.”

About the Author

TA Moore is a Northern Irish writer of romantic suspense, urban fantasy, and contemporary romance novels. A childhood in a rural, seaside town fostered in her a suspicious nature, a love of mystery, and a streak of black humour a mile wide.

Coffee, Doc Marten boots, and good friends are the essential things in life. Spiders, mayo, and heels are to be avoided.