Showing posts with label forbidden love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label forbidden love. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 17, 2025

The Deviation Release Blitz #GayBookPromotions

NEW RELEASE

Book Title: The Deviation

Author, Cover Artist, and Publisher: Rebecca Raine

Release Date: December 17, 2025

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

Genres: Contemporary MM Romance

Tropes: Rock star, first time bi, workplace romance, forbidden love, found family

Themes: Pining, coming out, integrity, trust, belonging, loyalty

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length:  88 000 words

It is Book 3 in a series where each book can be read as a standalone. 

It does not end on a cliffhanger. 

HEA guaranteed.

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

When my quiet life fell apart, he turned up the music in my soul. How do I pretend we never happened?

Blurb

Johnny

I did everything my parents wanted: got a respectable job, married my childhood sweetheart, and pushed my rock star dreams into the background. It was enough for me… until my divorce cracked open the cage.

Now old cravings rush to the surface, and I ache to satisfy each one. Starting with the gorgeous man I lock eyes with at a musical festival. Calum is all kinds of perfect. As a manager, he could accelerate my music career. As a man, he reignites the fire in my soul. I can’t have him both ways.

When my band signs with Calum’s company, we agree to keep our distance. No one can know we’ve met before. How far we’ve gone. How deeply we’ve tasted. Our futures depend on the secrets we must keep.

Calum

If I’d known who Johnny was the night we met, this never would have happened. Getting involved with a client is forbidden, and I can’t risk my job—or my sister’s security—for some lust-fuelled romance.

Working together doesn’t have to be complicated. That’s what I tell myself every time we avoid touching. When his eyes tease, and his lyrics seduce. As our professional successes mount, the connection between us only grows stronger.

There are lines we can’t cross. Boundaries we can’t break. But when Johnny is all I want, all I think about… how do I stay away?

Excerpt 

Johnny ambles over to invade my personal space. The warm, freshly showered scent of him creeps into my nostrils, causing me to inhale, but I don’t shy away from his closeness. He’s in a dangerous mood. If I show weakness, he may pounce.

“Would you like a drink?” he asks, gesturing with the tumbler that dangles from the fingers of his right hand.

“Sure.” It’s a terrible idea, but at the moment I’ll say yes to anything that will put some distance between us. He withdraws to the kitchen, and I suck in a lungful of oxygen. It doesn’t help. His presence lingers in every square inch of air. It strokes my insides, burrowing into my cells and setting them on fire.

This is not the meeting I expected. We’re supposed to talk about Ned and how we can be allies in my bid to win him over. This isn’t supposed to be a seduction, and I am definitely not supposed to be gagging for it.

Stalking after him, I plant myself in the entrance to the kitchen and glare at the lines of his muscular back. “Why am I here, Johnny?” The clipped words imply irritation, though the truth is probably closer to lustful vexation.

He turns, smirking as he delivers the generous glass of scotch to my hand. “Because you can’t stop thinking about me.”

My spine stiffens at his knowing drawl. I snatch the drink before escaping back to the living room. It has more room for pacing and I’m unsure what he’ll do if I stay still. “I mean, why did you ask me to come here tonight?”

He drains his glass as he returns. Dumping it on the coffee table, he steps into the path I’m wearing through his carpet. I come to an abrupt halt to prevent a head-on collision. His hands lift to cup my face, the calloused fingertips dragging over my cheekbones. The deep brown of his eyes drink me in, and his mouth is a breath away from mine. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you,” he says in a rough whisper.

There’s no smirk this time. Only need and heat and passion. “I wonder where you are, constantly. What you’re doing. How you taste.” His body crowds mine. Our hips brush together and, holy fuck, we’re both hard as nails. This man is lightning in my veins. The way I want him hurts, and I glory in the sharpness of the need. “I imagine you masturbating to the thought of me,” he whispers, “every time I masturbate to the thought of you.”

“Johnny.” The name is a groan, pulled all the way from my throbbing cock and up through my vocal cords. “We can’t do this.”

“Sure we can.” His head dips, and I shiver as his lips brush my throat. “I’ll show you.” His hands are on my hips now, tugging me more firmly against him. His mouth chases mine but I turn my head, my eyes drifting closed.

“I need…” My words falter as he rocks his hips, rubbing his erection against mine.

One hand threads through my hair. Taking it in a firm grip, he angles my face back towards his. His panting breath fills my open mouth. “I need you, too.” And then he’s kissing me. His tongue in my mouth. His body flush against mine.

God help me, I kiss him back. Even as I force my arms to stay at my sides and my body to remain still, I can’t resist losing myself for precious moments in his kiss, in the scotch and temptation of him.

When a needful moan reverberates from my throat to his lips, he pulls back long enough to smile at me. It’s the smile that shocks me back to my senses. Lifting one hand to his chest, I force myself to push him away.

“No, Johnny.” We stand there staring at each other, our chests heaving. “I need Fifth Circle. I need to sign a band and my boss has decided it has to be your band.” His smile dies and he straightens away from my touch. “If I don’t sign you to Rush, I lose my job. If my boss finds out what’s going on between us, I lose my job.” The ramifications of my actions slam into me and I drain the glass of scotch I’m still holding before putting it beside his. “I can’t risk my job. Not for anything.”

Not for you. The unspoken words hang between us.

His gaze hardens and a bitter grimace curls his lips. “In that case, we’re both shit out of luck.” Picking up the empty glasses, he storms back towards the kitchen. “There may not even be a band anymore.”

About the Author 

Rebecca is a long-time lover of all things romance. Whether it’s a book, movie, or real life, she will always have more fun if there’s a love interest thrown into the mix. She lives in Queensland, Australia with her very own hero husband, two quirky kids and one big, black dog. Other than reading and writing books, her favourite things include loud music, enjoying a glass of wine on the patio, organising everything in existence, and spending too much time on the Internet.

Author Links

 Newsletter Sign-up  |  Blog/Website  

 Facebook Author Page

Pinterest  |  Instagram   |  Goodreads

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

Tuesday, December 2, 2025

The Deviation Cover Reveal #GayBookPromotions

COVER REVEAL

Book Title: The Deviation

Author, Cover Artist, and Publisher: Rebecca Raine

Release Date: December 17, 2025

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

Genres: Contemporary MM Romance

Tropes: Rock star, first time bi, workplace romance, forbidden love, found family

Themes: pining, coming out, integrity, trust, belonging, loyalty

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length:  88 000 words

It is Book 3 in a series where each book can be read as a standalone. 

It does not end on a cliffhanger. 

HEA guaranteed.

Goodreads

Available for Pre-Order

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

When my quiet life fell apart, he turned up the music in my soul. How do I pretend we never happened?

Blurb

Johnny

I did everything my parents wanted: got a respectable job, married my childhood sweetheart, and pushed my rock star dreams into the background. It was enough for me… until my divorce cracked open the cage.

Now old cravings rush to the surface, and I ache to satisfy each one. Starting with the gorgeous man I lock eyes with at a musical festival. Calum is all kinds of perfect. As a manager, he could accelerate my music career. As a man, he reignites the fire in my soul. I can’t have him both ways.

When my band signs with Calum’s company, we agree to keep our distance. No one can know we’ve met before. How far we’ve gone. How deeply we’ve tasted. Our futures depend on the secrets we must keep.

Calum

If I’d known who Johnny was the night we met, this never would have happened. Getting involved with a client is forbidden, and I can’t risk my job—or my sister’s security—for some lust-fuelled romance.

Working together doesn’t have to be complicated. That’s what I tell myself every time we avoid touching. When his eyes tease, and his lyrics seduce. As our professional successes mount, the connection between us only grows stronger.

There are lines we can’t cross. Boundaries we can’t break. But when Johnny is all I want, all I think about… how do I stay away?

Excerpt 

Johnny ambles over to invade my personal space. The warm, freshly showered scent of him creeps into my nostrils, causing me to inhale, but I don’t shy away from his closeness. He’s in a dangerous mood. If I show weakness, he may pounce.

“Would you like a drink?” he asks, gesturing with the tumbler that dangles from the fingers of his right hand.

“Sure.” It’s a terrible idea, but at the moment I’ll say yes to anything that will put some distance between us. He withdraws to the kitchen, and I suck in a lungful of oxygen. It doesn’t help. His presence lingers in every square inch of air. It strokes my insides, burrowing into my cells and setting them on fire.

This is not the meeting I expected. We’re supposed to talk about Ned and how we can be allies in my bid to win him over. This isn’t supposed to be a seduction, and I am definitely not supposed to be gagging for it.

Stalking after him, I plant myself in the entrance to the kitchen and glare at the lines of his muscular back. “Why am I here, Johnny?” The clipped words imply irritation, though the truth is probably closer to lustful vexation.

He turns, smirking as he delivers the generous glass of scotch to my hand. “Because you can’t stop thinking about me.”

My spine stiffens at his knowing drawl. I snatch the drink before escaping back to the living room. It has more room for pacing and I’m unsure what he’ll do if I stay still. “I mean, why did you ask me to come here tonight?”

He drains his glass as he returns. Dumping it on the coffee table, he steps into the path I’m wearing through his carpet. I come to an abrupt halt to prevent a head-on collision. His hands lift to cup my face, the calloused fingertips dragging over my cheekbones. The deep brown of his eyes drink me in, and his mouth is a breath away from mine. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you,” he says in a rough whisper.

There’s no smirk this time. Only need and heat and passion. “I wonder where you are, constantly. What you’re doing. How you taste.” His body crowds mine. Our hips brush together and, holy fuck, we’re both hard as nails. This man is lightning in my veins. The way I want him hurts, and I glory in the sharpness of the need. “I imagine you masturbating to the thought of me,” he whispers, “every time I masturbate to the thought of you.”

“Johnny.” The name is a groan, pulled all the way from my throbbing cock and up through my vocal cords. “We can’t do this.”

“Sure we can.” His head dips, and I shiver as his lips brush my throat. “I’ll show you.” His hands are on my hips now, tugging me more firmly against him. His mouth chases mine but I turn my head, my eyes drifting closed.

“I need…” My words falter as he rocks his hips, rubbing his erection against mine.

One hand threads through my hair. Taking it in a firm grip, he angles my face back towards his. His panting breath fills my open mouth. “I need you, too.” And then he’s kissing me. His tongue in my mouth. His body flush against mine.

God help me, I kiss him back. Even as I force my arms to stay at my sides and my body to remain still, I can’t resist losing myself for precious moments in his kiss, in the scotch and temptation of him.

When a needful moan reverberates from my throat to his lips, he pulls back long enough to smile at me. It’s the smile that shocks me back to my senses. Lifting one hand to his chest, I force myself to push him away.

“No, Johnny.” We stand there staring at each other, our chests heaving. “I need Fifth Circle. I need to sign a band and my boss has decided it has to be your band.” His smile dies and he straightens away from my touch. “If I don’t sign you to Rush, I lose my job. If my boss finds out what’s going on between us, I lose my job.” The ramifications of my actions slam into me and I drain the glass of scotch I’m still holding before putting it beside his. “I can’t risk my job. Not for anything.”

Not for you. The unspoken words hang between us.

His gaze hardens and a bitter grimace curls his lips. “In that case, we’re both shit out of luck.” Picking up the empty glasses, he storms back towards the kitchen. “There may not even be a band anymore.”

About the Author 

Rebecca is a long-time lover of all things romance. Whether it’s a book, movie, or real life, she will always have more fun if there’s a love interest thrown into the mix. She lives in Queensland, Australia with her very own hero husband, two quirky kids and one big, black dog. Other than reading and writing books, her favourite things include loud music, enjoying a glass of wine on the patio, organising everything in existence, and spending too much time on the Internet.

Author Links

 Newsletter Sign-up  |  Blog/Website  

 Facebook Author Page

Pinterest  |  Instagram   |  Goodreads

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

Saturday, November 1, 2025

The Heaven Trilogy Series Review #GayBookPromotions

SERIES TOUR and NEW RELEASE

The Heaven Trilogy by Reni Stankova

A Queer Fantasy of Angels, Demons, and Forbidden Love 

MM Gay Epic Fantasy 

Overall Heat Rating for the series: 2 - 3 flames

The stories are best read in order.

BOOK DETAILS

BOOK 1

Book Title: The Enemy of Heaven

Cover Artist: GetCovers

Length: 100 000 words

Release Date: second edition, February 2025

Tense/POV: third person, past tense, alternating POV.

Genres: MM Gay Fantasy, Epic Fantasy

Tropes: Political intrigue, forbidden love, power couple, slow burn

Themes: No homophobia (sexuality doesn’t play a role in the plot), however, there’s in-world racism and police brutality

It can be read as a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger. It's a Happy For Now ending

Goodreads  |  Buy Links

In a kingdom ruled by angels, falling for a demon is treason.

Blurb

As an angel prince of Heaven, Raphael has spent his youth fighting for demon rights. His efforts are fruitless until he meets Dante, a demon with dangerous powers.

Seeing potential, Raphael recruits him as his royal guard, scandalizing the court, and turning a demon into his closest ally in a mission to dethrone the King of Heaven.

Dante has always hated angels, but after Prince Raphael saves him from execution, he couldn’t help but follow him. Being the only demon among the angel elite is unbearable, but for the first time, he has hope for the future.

But a coup is a dangerous game. Can Dante protect Raphael long enough for him to ignite real change? And what does it mean for the Kingdom of Heaven when an angel and a demon dare to fall for each other?

Finalist of the 2023 Indies Today Awards.

 
Image by FarfOuille from Pixabay


 Ornery Owl's Review

Rating: Four out of Five Stars 

On the positive side, the interactions between Dante and Raphael are realistic and leave the reader wondering what the eventual outcome of their relationship will be. The guardian Samuel Mitrigard is convincingly arrogant and cruel. 

The chapter describing the deaths of Dante's wards is particularly heartbreaking. Readers who would be triggered by reading about the deaths of child characters should be aware of this scene.

Aspects that could be improved include Sienna's role in the story. She has too much potential to be relegated to being Raphael's beard.

An "overweight demon" fights Raphael in the brothel. Overweight is such a boring descriptor, not to mention stigmatizing. Over what weight and why does it matter? Use heavy, heavyset, or stocky instead. If the demon is particularly large, use rotund. Such descriptors make the character more interesting.

BOOK 2

Book Title: The Secrets of Heaven

Cover Artist: MiblArt

Length:  105 000 words

Release Date: second edition, February 2025

Tropes: Quest fantasy, established couple, power couple, couple on the lam

Themes: more classism than racism in this one, travel adventure vibes

It is not a standalone story and ends on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads  |  Buy Links

 An angel and a demon defied Heaven. Now Heaven hunts them across the world.

Blurb

Five years of stolen peace in the mountains ends when Archangel Remiel, Heaven’s most elite investigator, finds Raphael and Dante’s sanctuary. Tasked with sending the fugitives to their lawful executions, she forces the couple into a life on the run.

Meanwhile, Raphael stumbles upon a clue to his mother’s lost legacy—the archeological artifact that caused her murder all those years ago might be within reach, and it might throw all of Heaven into chaos.

So, the chase is on.

Raphael and Dante travel through three continents, on their way to a secluded island in the Holy Land while evading Remiel’s elite guardian squad. With a prize for their capture, they’re forced to clash with old friends and foes, all eager to exploit their situation for personal gain, and their bond is tested in ways they never imagined.

But the closer they get to the truth, the higher the stakes become. What secrets lie buried in the Holy Land? And will Heaven survive what they uncover—or will it burn?

BOOK 3 - NEW RELEASE

Book Title: The Children of Heaven

Length:  115 000 words

Release Date: November 1, 2025

Tropes: Angels and demons, rebellion, married couple, power couple

Themes: Themes of belonging, family, tragedy

It is not a standalone story. It does not end on a cliffhanger. A Happily Ever After.

Goodreads  |  Buy Links

To build a better world, they must first burn the old one down.

Blurb

Michael Azelys has awakened a long-forgotten power, and for the first time in a thousand years, angels, demons, and virtues clash in a brutal uprising, reminiscent of the Great War.

Determined to stop his brother, Raphael becomes the key to ending the centuries-long oppression of demonkind. He will return free will to the demons, or die trying.

Far away, Dante braves the desolate Impact Land in search of other awakened demons like himself. What he discovers exceeds his wildest hopes. But will he return in time, with an army strong enough to stop Michael Azelys, and save his loved ones?

As Heaven crumbles and distance tests their bond, Raphael and Dante must face their greatest fears and decide what they’re willing to sacrifice.

Will they survive long enough to meet each other again?

Excerpt From Book #1: The Enemy of Heaven

Without saying a word, Samuel Mitrigard sunk the knife deep into Dante’s side. Piercing pain ignited his senses and weakness spread through his body. He gritted his teeth and glared at the bastard, not giving him the satisfaction of hearing his anguish. Samuel pulled the blade out without even twisting it to finish the job. He was playing.

“Drop him,” he ordered, ever so casually.

The arms pulled away and Dante fell face-first into the dirt. So, this was the end. Dante could never imagine his death, even though he had many close brushes. There were many things he hadn’t done in his life, but at least he took solace in knowing that Peter and Dianna were safe.

Samuel Mitrigard grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled Dante’s head. The edge of an impeccably clean sword lowered to his exposed throat.

“Halt!”

The guardian angels froze and gawked as a hooded figure appeared. Dante could swear he saw this hooded figure, but his vision was blurring quickly. The man walked closer and removed his hood, exposing a blond head and blue angel eyes.

“Don’t kill this demon! I order you to release him in the name of Raphael Azelys, Third Prince of Heaven!”

What did he say? Dante couldn’t trust his ears, or any of his other senses at this moment. A royal heir could not be in the ghetto. It made no sense. Though the guardians were suddenly standing to attention. Everyone but Samuel Mitrigard still held his prey by the hair, his sword still ready to slice.

“Your Highness, I don’t know why you’re here alone, but this is not the place for royalty.”

“Please, guardian Samuel, tell me exactly where my place is.”

Dante felt the body behind him tense. The soles of ridiculously expensive boots stepped close enough for him to smell the leather.

“Remove your weapon,” demanded the prince.

His voice was so calm, as though an owner was asking his dog to drop its favorite toy. The guardians were looking at each other, clueless as to what to do. Samuel Mitrigard pressed the blade against Dante’s throat, enough to break the skin, but no further. He simply did not want to let go, not even when his sovereign demanded it.

“Your Highness, this is a convicted murderer. He killed a guardian on duty—”

“Any demon’s crimes are erased should they become an honorary angel,” the prince interrupted. “I’m here to make him into one.”

“What?”

“Give him to me, guardian Samuel.”

The guardian tugged on Dante’s hair—one last act of defiance before he reluctantly let him go. Dante’s face planted back into the dirt, but the prince caught him in time.

His vision was blurry, but he could see him. His Royal Highness Raphael Azelys was kneeling before him, supporting his chin in his palm, enough so they could establish eye contact.

“From now on, you’re mine,” he said, and the world sank into darkness.

  

About the Author 

A bilingual author from Bulgaria, a dreamer, a traveler, and a gentle soul who loves writing about diverse power couples, original worlds, wholesome romance and political intrigue.

Author Links

Website  |  Newsletter sign-up 

Instagram  |  BookBub

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

Saturday, August 16, 2025

Friar Preorder Blitz #rabtbooktours


 

Reckless Kings MC (#7)


MC Romance / Romantic Suspense

Date to be Published: August 22, 2025

Publisher: Changeling Press



One night. One mistake. One baby that changes everything.

Cheri -- I’ve always been the preacher’s perfect niece, the small-town good girl who never stepped out of line. But one reckless night with a gruff, dangerous biker flipped my world upside down. Now I’m eighteen, unexpectedly pregnant, and kicked out of my home for breaking the rules. With nowhere else to turn, I end up on the doorstep of the one man I shouldn’t want. Friar. He’s a rough, older member of an outlaw motorcycle club, and the father of my baby. At least, I think he is. That night is a bit of a blur. He’s also the only one who might protect me from a world that suddenly wants to chew me up and spit me out. Even if he doesn’t love me, I need him… and maybe he needs me too.

Friar -- As a biker, I’ve lived hard and broken more laws than I can count. I’ve never claimed to be a good man. Hell, I don’t even try. But when Cheri shows up at my MC’s door with wide eyes and a baby on the way, something in me shifts. I was never supposed to touch her. She’s too young, too innocent, too off-limits. But I did. And now she’s mine.

They can judge us. Try to tear us apart. But I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my woman and my unborn child. Even if I have to burn down the world to do it.


Excerpt


All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2025 Harley Wylde

Cheri

The wooden crucifix above my bed seemed to watch me with judgment as I lay still, listening to the house settle into silence. Eleven forty-five. Uncle Pete and Aunt June had been in bed for over an hour, their nightly prayers long finished. I’d waited, counting each minute, feeling my heartbeat quicken with every passing second. Tonight was my night. My escape. Even if it was just for a few hours.

I slid out from under the floral quilt Aunt June had made for me when I first came to live with them three years ago. The floor was cold against my bare feet, but I didn’t dare turn on the small lamp. The moonlight filtering through the lace curtains was enough. I moved to my closet, pushing past the modest dresses and high-necked blouses that filled the space. Behind them, hidden in the darkest corner, hung the outfit I’d been saving -- tight jeans and a low-cut top that would have Aunt June clutching her pearls and Uncle Pete quoting Proverbs about the path of sin.

My fingers traced the outline of a framed verse on my nightstand: “She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come.” Proverbs 31:25. How many times had Aunt June reminded me that a godly woman’s worth wasn’t in her appearance? Yet here I was, applying mascara and lip gloss by the dim light of my phone screen, my movements practiced and furtive.

I pulled on my forbidden clothes, the fabric clinging to my body in ways that made me feel alive, dangerous. The girl in the mirror looked like someone else -- someone exciting, someone with secrets. I tucked my hair behind my ears and took a deep breath. It was time.

The hallway stretched before me like a gauntlet. Family photos lined the walls, interspersed with carved wooden crosses and framed Bible verses that seemed to glow in the darkness. I knew every creaky floorboard, every spot that would betray me. I stepped carefully, placing my weight on the edges near the walls where the boards were less likely to complain. The scent of Aunt June’s lavender potpourri hung in the air, cloying and sweet, a constant reminder of her presence even when she wasn’t around.

I froze as I approached their bedroom door. It stood slightly ajar, and the soft sound of Uncle Pete’s snoring drifted out. My heart hammered so hard I was certain they’d hear it. A shaft of light from their bedside lamp sliced through the gap in the door. Aunt June always kept it on -- afraid of the dark or maybe afraid of what lurked in it. I held my breath and pressed my body against the opposite wall, inching past with glacial slowness.

“Peter?” Aunt June’s voice, thick with sleep, stopped me cold. My blood turned to ice, and I pressed myself deeper into the shadows.

The snoring paused. “Hmm?”

“Did you lock the back door?”

“Yes, June. Go back to sleep.”

I remained frozen, counting to thirty in my head before daring to move again. The lock. I hadn’t thought about the lock. Would I be able to unlock it without making noise? I’d have to risk it.

The stairs were next -- thirteen of them, each with its own personality and voice. I’d mapped them out over months of late-night kitchen raids: the third one screamed, the seventh groaned, the ninth whispered, and the eleventh threatened to wake the dead. I navigated them like a dance I’d rehearsed a thousand times, my hand barely touching the banister for balance.

The living room was a shrine to their faith. A massive painting of Jesus with lambs hung over the fireplace, His eyes following me accusingly across the room. Bibles sat on every surface, bookmarked and well-worn. A collection of angels watched from the mantel, their porcelain faces frozen in eternal worship. The smell of potpourri was stronger here, mingling with the lingering scent of the pot roast we’d had for dinner.

I made my way to the kitchen, where a needlepoint hung over the sink: “In everything give thanks.” My car keys were in my pocket, heavy and promising. Freedom was just beyond the back door. I reached for the deadbolt, turning it with painful slowness, feeling each click of the mechanism like a gunshot in the silence. When it finally released, I eased the door open just enough to slip through.

The night air hit me like a blessing, cool and free from the suffocating holiness of the house. The porch steps were new and didn’t creak, a small mercy. I stepped onto the damp grass, shoes in hand, moving quickly now toward the driveway where my ancient Honda waited.

I slid into the driver’s seat, my heart still racing. The key went into the ignition, and I said a silent prayer -- the irony not lost on me -- that the engine wouldn’t roar to life with its usual enthusiasm. I turned the key, and the car started with a mercifully subdued rumble. No lights came on in the house. I backed out slowly, not turning on my headlights until I was a safe distance down the road.

In my rearview mirror, the house grew smaller, a dark silhouette against the night sky. I finally allowed myself to breathe. The windows were down, and the wind whipped my hair around my face. I felt wild, untethered. The address of the Reckless Kings clubhouse was burned into my memory from whispered conversations in school bathrooms.

My heart fluttered with nervous excitement. This wasn’t just about breaking curfew or wearing forbidden clothes. This was about stepping into a world so different from the one I’d been trapped in, a world raw and real and alive. The night stretched ahead of me, dark and full of promise, as I drove toward the edge of town where the Reckless Kings waited.

I pressed harder on the gas, leaving behind the weight of expectations and the suffocation of someone else’s righteousness. For tonight, at least, I would be free. For tonight, I would be more than just Uncle Pete and Aunt June’s good Christian niece. I would be Cheri Waite, a girl with fire in her veins and rebellion in her heart.

I parked my Honda at the end of a long line of cars outside the clubhouse, partly to hide my car from anyone who might recognize it, partly because I needed those extra steps to steady my nerves. The Reckless Kings’ domain loomed ahead, a rather fancy looking log-cabin-style building. Music pulsed from inside, a heartbeat I could feel even from this distance. Motorcycles lined the entrance, chrome gleaming under bright lights, their owners somewhere inside doing things my uncle would call sinful and I would call living.

My legs felt weak as I walked toward the building. Each step brought me closer to crossing a line I couldn’t uncross. I’d heard whispers about the Reckless Kings since I’d moved to town -- dangerous men who lived by their own code, who took what they wanted and answered to no one. The kind of men Aunt June prayed for on Sundays, her voice tight with disapproval and fear.

The bikes stood like sentinels guarding the entrance. I ran my fingers over a sleek handlebar as I passed, feeling the cool metal against my skin. I smoothed my hands over my jeans, adjusted my top to show just the right amount of cleavage, and took a deep breath. This was it. No turning back.

I pulled the door open and stepped inside.

The sensory assault was immediate and overwhelming. The air was thick with cigarette smoke that hung in blue-gray clouds beneath the ceiling, mingling with the smell of spilled beer, leather, and sweat. The bass from the music vibrated through the soles of my shoes and up into my chest, making my heart sync with its rhythm. Colored lights from neon beer signs cast red and blue shadows across the room, illuminating faces in fragments -- a tattooed arm here, a bearded jaw there, bodies moving through the haze like apparitions.

My eyes stung, adjusting to the smoke and dimness. The floor beneath me was sticky with what I hoped was just beer, pulling at my shoes with each step. Bodies pressed against each other in the center of the room, dancing to music that felt more like a physical force than a sound. Women in tight clothes and high heels leaned against men in leather cuts, their laughter cutting through the din like glass breaking.

Conversations stuttered as I moved deeper into the room. Heads turned, eyes assessed. I felt each gaze like a physical touch -- some curious, some predatory, all intense. A woman with a snake tattoo winding up her neck stared at me with narrowed eyes, her arm tightening around the waist of the man beside her. I kept my chin up, tried to look like I belonged, like I wasn’t counting every rapid beat of my heart.

 

About the Author

Harley Wylde is an accomplished author known for her captivating MC Romances. With an unwavering commitment to sensual storytelling, Wylde immerses her readers in an exciting world of fierce men and irresistible women. Her works exude passion, danger, and gritty realism, while still managing to end on a satisfying note each time.

When not crafting her tales, Wylde spends her time brainstorming new plotlines, indulging in a hot cup of Starbucks, or delving into a good book. She has a particular affinity for supernatural horror literature and movies. Visit Wylde's website to learn more about her works and upcoming events, and don't forget to sign up for her newsletter to receive exclusive discounts and other exciting perks.

 

Author on Facebook, Instagram, & TikTok: @harleywylde

 

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress

Save 15% off any order at http://changelingPress.com with code RABT15




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Thursday, July 10, 2025

The Way You Lie New Release #GayBookPromotions

NEW RELEASE

Book Title: The Way You Lie (Isle of Kala, book one)

Author: Crea Reitan

Publisher: Dragon Fire Fantasy, LLC

Cover Artist: Rebeca Covers

Release Date: July 10, 2025

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

Genres: Contemporary M/M Romance

Tropes: Forbidden love, Age gap, Dad’s best friend, secret relationship

Heat Rating:  4 flames

Length:  approximately 92 000 words

It is a standalone story.

It ends on a cliffhanger — not for this couple,

but for the couple featured in the next book.

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US   |   Amazon UK  

Sometimes a happy ending comes with heartbreak. 

Blurb

Sometimes a happy ending comes with heartbreak. 

Falling in love with my father’s best friend wasn’t on my to-do list. Yes, he’s hot. Sure, I’ve been flirting with him since I was sixteen. Of course I’d be down for a little fun.

When Laiken begins returning my flirting, things get heated. It was supposed to be sexy summer fun and nothing more. We weren’t planning on making this a forever thing. 

But falling in love isn’t a choice. 

As it turns out, not everyone agrees and sometimes disapproval is loud, painful, and heartbreaking.

***

This is a LGBTQIA+ story with content not intended for those under 18 years of age due to graphic scenes and situations.

Excerpt 

I’m no stranger to Elijah Cain. I’ve seen him nearly every single day of his life since the moment he was conceived. His father, Nason, and I have been friends for over thirty years.

He began flirting with me four years ago when he was in high school, and at the time, I found it nothing but amusing. He was a kid. He’s my best friend’s son. In a way, he felt like my nephew.

But when he came home from college a few months ago, he’d suddenly stopped looking like a child to me. He was now an adult. Everything about him had grown up. And I’ve found that I really like every damn thing I see.

He’s adorable. He looks so much like his father but with his mother’s Latina complexion. The combination of Miranda and Nason is simply breathtaking. I’ve always thought so. I’ve always thought that Elijah was an adorable child.

Adorable has grown up into a man that never leaves my mind. His flirting hasn’t stopped. If anything, it’s increased. I’m not sure if he’s just a flirt or if it’s intentionally directed at me.

Not that it matters. I can’t go there. That’s Nason’s kid! My best friend’s only child and the man whom I can’t stop thinking about day or night.

About the Author 

Crea lives in upstate New York with her dog and husband. She has been writing since grade school and has a habit of creating secondary, and often tertiary characters that take over her stories. When she can’t fall asleep at night, she thinks up new scenes for her characters to act out.

Social Media Links

Website  |  Facebook  |  Instagram   

Newsletter Sign-up  |   Patreon 

Giveaway 

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win one of the following:

*One paperback (signed by author if domestic; from Amazon if outside US) of this release with PR pack swag (signed bookplate included if winner is international)

*One of four PR swag packs

*One of three ebooks from the author's backlist

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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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

Giveaway 

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

a signed paperback copy of the book

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

Thursday, June 12, 2025

The Man In Black Book Blast #GayBookPromotions

BOOK BLAST

Book Title: The Man in Black

Author: L.R. Liverpool

Publisher: Black Cab Productions / Texas Poetrope

Cover Artist: Gabriel Sanche

Release Date: November 22, 2022

Tense/POV: First person, past tense, single POV

Genres: MM Historical Romance/Thriller

Tropes: Enemies to lovers, forbidden love, dangerous environment, solving mysteries

Themes: Old West, outlaws, mysterious pursuer, hurt/comfort, murders, emotional traumas, scary dreams

Heat Rating:  4 flames

Length:  897 pages in Kindle format

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

Goodreads

Buy Links

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

Smashwords  |  Google  |  Apple  |  Kobo

Indigo  |   Angus& Robertson

Who will be safe when a dream figure becomes real?

Blurb

Naive dreamer Fenimore James goes west to become a famous outlaw, but his fantasies of glamorous robberies quickly evaporate when he joins the Red Evans gang, finding himself caught in a strange and bloody game, where gang members are suddenly being murdered one-by-one at the hand of a mysterious pursuer, who leaves cryptic signs scarifying their bodies. As his nights become plagued by a bizarre dream figure––the Man In Black, he also begins to question his sexuality, falling for a fellow male gang member, whom he feared just recently. 

Excerpt 

Sometime later I had a strange dream, which I still remember in great detail, as if I only saw it yesterday: I’m sitting in a hut by a frost-covered window and watching a stagecoach arrive in the yard. It seems to me that my new friends are also somewhere in the house, but this is more of a feeling, because I don’t really see them anywhere. 

I get up and walk outside. The door does not open into the house, but outward––so I force it hard with all my weight, because there is one hell of a snowdrift on the porch. After a couple of violent shoves, it finally swings open. Everything is white all around––continuous snowy expanses and a snow-covered forest are in front, blackened with tree trunks. And some sort of mountains. I look at the stagecoach and notice that it is also all black, and the horses are black too. 

Even before I have time to call out to the intruders, the coachman climbs down off the beam and walks in my direction. A tall––very tall––man in a tattered black coat with fluttering hemlines and a worn black hat. He stops a yard away from me and says he’s looking for Red Evans. I answer that Red is in the house and inquire who’s asking for him. 

“He knows,” the man replies in a low, hollow voice, as if speaking from underwater. 

I keep trying to see his face, but I can’t. The twilight is still light, and the whiteness of the snow illuminates everything all around. But the man’s face is still not visible in the shadow of his wide-brimmed hat and high collar. I feel goosebumps rise, and I want to run for the hills––from this figure in black––without stopping. But I nod, go into the house to search for Red and find him sitting with Monty and Doug in front of a bright fireplace. The color scheme of the entire dream is black, white, and blue; and only the fire is blood red. 

I tell the boss that so-and-so, some guy arrived and announced that he was an acquaintance. Then Red reluctantly gets up from his place, and we all go outside. We go out of the house, but there is no stagecoach anymore. No stagecoach, no mysterious guest. Here, of course, they ridicule me, and I scream, convincing them that I saw everything with my own eyes, heard the creak of wheels, the clatter of hooves.

“Maybe,” I suggest, “the guest has already left?”

To which they ask me, “Where are the tracks then?”

And indeed there are no tracks either. Only an endless cover of pristine snow and the prints of our own boots from the doorstep. I remain alone in the yard and continue to stand in the deepening twilight and stupidly stare at the sparkling snowdrifts, trying to understand what happened. And, it seems, there was nothing special in this dream. However, it left an unpleasant feeling in my soul for a very long time.

About the Author 

Lily has been writing short stories to entertain her friends since her teen years, and before coming to pen her own novel, she helped her writer friends with research for their fiction and non-fiction. She is a collector of all things dogs, and Balto & Togo, an animal shelters volunteer, a history buff, a vintage trinkets and toys enthusiast.

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