first

July 18, 2016
sidlove

1 comment

BLOG TOUR: Evasive Maneuvers by Lynn Michaels

BT_Banner

AboutTheBook

Evasive_Maneuvers_Michaels_FSTITLE: Evasive Maneuvers

AUTHOR: Lynn Michaels

COVER ARTIST: Jay Aheer

LENGTH: 58,500 words

RELEASE DATE: July 16, 2016

BLURB: Campbell Fain has been rebelling against his father, refusing to grow up for so long, he’s not sure what his life really means anymore. When he meets the man that makes his heart melt, he lies to impress him. Unfortunately, facing the truth may turn out to be the least of his problems when he’s forced to come face to face with the sins of his father.

He was the quarterback in high school, all American sweetheart and solid guy, but Stone Medlock is just figuring out his life. When he meets Campbell Fain, it turns his world around and he just might be falling hard for the rebellious punk, but will he still be able to support and trust Campbell when the lies come out?

Will Campbell’s lies tear them apart before they even begin? Will they find the love behind the lies?
Excerpt

Stone pulled his jeans all the way off, dropping them to the floor along with his sexy briefs. I couldn’t help notice how manly they were; everything about Stone was manly. If I hadn’t met him at a gay club, I never would have thought he batted for my team, but every bit of me was so happy he did. It never hurt to have out jocks on the team! He smelled masculine too. Some of that could have been his products that I could smell on myself too, but some of it was just his own natural, earthy scent that I couldn’t get enough of.

As I stared at him, waiting for more, his face shifted to something a little less sexy. His brows pressed down, making him appear unhappy or concerned.

“What?”

“Campbell. Listen. I need to know what else you lied about.”

I chuckled, nervously. “What?” Why the hell did he bring this shit up now, especially when I thought we’d gotten past it?

BuyLinks

Amazon US

Amazon UK

All Romance eBooks

Smashwords

Kobo Store

Barnes & Noble

Apple iBooks

AuthorBio

Lynn Michaels lives and writes in Tampa, Florida where the sun is hot and the Sangria is cold. Lynn is the newest addition to Rubicon Fiction, and she loves reading and writing about hot men in love.  She writes paranormal and contemporary MM Romance

:: Website :: Facebook Page :: Amazon Page ::

RafflecopterGiveaway

Winner’s Prize: Signed Paperback of the book & an E-copy of the book!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

TourSchedule

July 18: Love Bytes Reviews :: Drops of Ink

July 19: Bayou Book Junkie :: Wicked Faeries Tales & Reviews

July 20: Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words :: Rick R. Reed :: Nessa’s Book Reviews

July 21: The Purple Rose Tea House :: Alpha Book Club

July 22: BFD Book Blog :: Open Skye Book Reviews :: MM Book Escape

 

July 18, 2016
sidlove

5 comments

BLOG TOUR: Complexity by Harper Miller

Complexity_BT_Banner

AboutTheBook

Complexity CoverTITLE: Complexity

SERIES: Kinky Connect Chronicles

AUTHOR: Harper Miller

COVER ARTIST: Taria Reed Digital Artist

LENGTH: 140 Pages

RELEASE DATE: July 8, 2016

BLURB: Fairy tale endings weren’t made for people like me. Happy for now usually ain’t in the cards, either.

The dents on my wall from where my headboard kept knockin’ against the same spot was the first clue that I needed to calm my ass down. At the rate I was racking up notches and plowing through hookups, I wasn’t ever gonna find nothing real. Guess I kinda jinxed myself. I created my circumstances. You can’t get what you want if you keep falling back into the same pattern of bad habits. But then things changed. I stumbled onto somethin’ I never in a million years expected to happen. You gotta understand, I’m never the guy who wins. It was supposed to be just sex, but that shifty, rhyming and scheming bastard, Cupid, pulled a fast one.

I may have changed some stuff to protect a couple of people. But before you go believing the tabloids, make sure you understand that you’re gettin’ the lowdown straight from the source.

I needed to get this off my chest and it’s only fair that you at least get my side of it all. At some point, I might regret telling you any of this, but for now, you need to know.

*Disclaimer* This is a novella. Not a short story, novelette, or novel. This tale features an M/M pairing. If gay erotica/erotic romance is not your cup of tea and you are offended by same-sex relationships or crass language, you should bypass this story. Content is intended for a mature audience, 18+.

Complexity is the fourth installment in The Kinky Connect Chronicles. The Kinky Connect Chronicles are short erotic stories/novelettes all wrapped up in neat little bows. These stories are standalones. No cliffhangers in the lot!
Excerpt

Could we be more different? Him: famous, rich white dude. Me: Latino entrepreneur who stocked up on ramen noodles and peanut butter when Key Food had a sale. This dude was so beyond my scope but he didn’t act any differently than a hookup I would’ve scored downtown at one of the gay bars in Chelsea.

Honestly, I didn’t know if me taking this shit with Christopher to the next level was a good thing or a bad thing. I held my own. I had my own business and made money legitimately doing shit I loved. Some days were a struggle, and I fell on hard times every now and again, but I woke up with a sense of purpose. Maybe I was overthinking things. I knew this was just about sex, but I couldn’t help but wonder if I was some sort of pity fuck or if Chris had a Latino fetish. He seemed genuinely attracted to me, but you know, there’s always somebody on the web lookin’ to get their rocks off with that token piece of ass.

I needed to stop with the assumptions and just take the moment for what it was, because an opportunity like this wouldn’t ever happen again.

Stayin’ in my head was gonna fuck everything up, so I focused on the twinkling lights near the waterfront seventeen stories down. “Good, I don’t bareback either. If rubbers aren’t required, we ain’t fuckin’. Seems like it’s a little too late to be having this discussion, but I’m clean. I get tested every six weeks. Got a copy of my results in my wallet if you wanna see.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Every six weeks? Sleep around a lot?”

I laughed, pulling off my polo. “I like sex. I like safe sex. I like to be certain I stay safe, so if that means gettin’ tested more often, I’m cool with that.”

BuyLinks

Amazon US

Amazon UK

All Romance eBooks

Kobo Store

AuthorBio

Harper Miller is a thirty-something native New Yorker. She’s traveled the world and lived in a variety of places but always finds her way back to the Big Apple. A lackluster love life leaves time to explore new interests, for Harper it is writing. The Sweetest Taboo: An Unconventional Romance is her debut novel. In her mind, the perfect Alpha male possesses intellect, humor, and a kinky streak that rivals the size of California.

When she isn’t writing, Harper utilizes her graduate degree in the field of medical research. She enjoys fitness-related activities, drinking copious amounts of wine and going on bad dates.

|| Facebook || Twitter || Instagram || Google+ ||

For regular updates on upcoming books and more by Harper Miller, sign up to her Newsletter

RafflecopterGiveaway

Winner’s Prize: $10 Amazon GC

a Rafflecopter giveaway

TourSchedule

July 18: Louise Lyons :: TTC Books and More

July 19: Diverse Reader :: Author Dean Frech

July 20: MM Good Book Reviews

July 21: Bayou Book Junkie :: Drops of Ink

July 22: Gay Book Reviews :: Daydream Believer Book

June 7, 2016
sidlove

no comments

BLOG TOUR: A Kind Of Romance by Lane Hayes

KindofRomance[A]_FBbanner_DSP

AboutTheBookKindofRomance[A]FSTITLE: A Kind of Romance

SERIES: A Kind of Story

AUTHOR: Lane Hayes

COVER ARTIST: Aaron Anderson

LENGTH: 82,963 words

RELEASE DATE: June 06, 2016

BLURB: Zeke Gulden is a ruthless Wall Street exec. His hard-edged, no-nonsense attitude has served him well in the cutthroat business world, but less so in his personal life. When he finds out his ex-boyfriend cheated on him with a coworker, Zeke can’t let go—not until he finds a way to get even. However, his meddlesome father has other ideas. The new hire at the family-owned bagel store is somewhat colorful, but his dad is sure he’s the perfect man for Zeke.

Benny Ruggieri is a fiercely proud New Yorker who dreams of making it big as a costume designer in the theater. In the meantime, he’s working two part-time jobs in the food biz. When his new boss sets him up with his successful son, Benny has zero expectations. If nothing else, he figures he can entertain himself by making the uptight businessman squirm. Instead, the two become unlikely friends with an inexplicable attraction they can’t ignore. Benny might be the one to help Zeke set aside his quest for revenge, if he’s willing to let go and forgive what he can’t forget… and give in to an unexpected kind of romance.
Excerpt

 

THEY SAID you could remember exactly where you were and what you were doing when a life-altering event took place. I could do better than that. I could tell you the date and time too. May 9, 7:04 a.m…. It was a Monday. Of course. I was standing in my kitchen, cradling a cup of coffee while reading the news on my iPad when my cell phone rang. I didn’t think twice about it. It rang all the fucking time. The setting was almost always on vibrate, but last night I’d changed it, thinking I didn’t want to miss Taylor’s call in case he decided to come by. He didn’t call. And he didn’t come over. I didn’t really think he would, but when we ran into each other at the farmers’ market in Union Square Sunday morning, I’d foolishly hoped he might. That was our spot. It seemed like providence. A sign of some sort telling us we should stop this nonsense and get back together immediately. True, Taylor had confessed he’d been cheating on me with one of my coworkers for the past six months, but… still.

The second round of incessant ringing served as a reminder I was a complete moron for wanting him back. And when I saw the name displayed on my cell, I knew the caller would agree wholeheartedly.

“Mornin’, Pops.”

“Ezekiel?”

I didn’t recognize the voice on the line. It was masculine but a little high-pitched. Definitely not Dad. Whoever he was, he was calling from my father’s phone. My heart slammed against my chest in a wave of instant panic.

“Just Zeke, actually. You’re calling from my father’s phone. Is he oka—?”

“He fell and hit his head. We called 9-1-1. The paramedics said it looked like a superficial wound, but there was blood everywhere and—They’re taking him to Mount Sinai on First. I’m following now with William. Filipe doesn’t speak much English, so Rand is staying to help mind the store and—”

“Whoa! Hang on. Where was he?” It was a stupid question. However, I felt nauseated from the unexpected adrenaline rush and was struggling to catch up and make sense of this conversation.

“At Bowery Bagels,” the caller replied with a heavy sigh. “I’m so sorry. I—I don’t know what else to say. I’m sure he’s fine, but—I’ll meet you in the emergency room.”

“Wait! Who are you?” I asked, staring into the open great room of my condo in a trancelike state.

I noted the sun’s reflection on the shiny dark hardwood floors and the way the tiny flecks of dust sparkled like fairy dust in the air. But I felt as though I were in a vacuum. Sound was muffled, and the light was suddenly too bright. I pushed away from the island and moved with purpose toward my bedroom, forgetting I’d been waiting for a response until the caller spoke again.

“Benny.”

BuyLinks

Dreamspinner Press

Amazon US

Amazon UK

All Romance eBooks

Barnes & Noble

Kobo Store

AuthorBio

Lane Hayes is grateful to finally be doing what she loves best. Writing full time! It’s no secret Lane loves a good romance novel. An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to a well-told love story with beautifully written characters. These days she prefers the leading roles both be men! Lane discovered the M/M genre a few years ago and was instantly hooked. Her first novel was a finalist in the 2013 Rainbow Awards and her third received an Honorable Mention in the 2014 Rainbow Awards. She loves travel, chocolate, and wine (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband and the coolest yellow lab ever in an almost empty nest.

||  Blog  ||  Facebook  ||  Twitter  ||  Email  ||

RafflecopterGiveaway

Winner’s Prize: $25 Gift Card to Ebook retailer of choice (DSP, Amazon, ARE Café)

a Rafflecopter giveaway

TourSchedule

June 7

TTC Books and More

Carly’s Book Reviews

Rick R. Reed

Drops of Ink

My Fiction Nook

June 9

Cia’s Stories

MM Book Escape

Gay Book Reviews

Prism Book Alliance

June 14

Wicked Faeries Tales And Reviews

Love Bytes Reviews

Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words

June 16

Bayou Book Junkie

Diverse Reader

The Purple Rose Tea House

Joyfully Jay

June 21

Alpha Book Club

Molly Lolly: Reader, Reviewer, Lover of Words

MM Good Book Reviews

June 23

Man2ManTastic

The Novel Approach

 

May 3, 2016
sidlove

4 comments

BLOG TOUR: Locked by Anyta Sunday

BT_Banner

AboutTheBook

Locked-fTITLE: Locked

SERIES: Telluric Realm #1

AUTHOR: Anyta Sunday

COVER ARTIST: Natasha Snow

LENGTH: 98,000 words

RELEASE DATE: April 26, 2016

BLURB: A curse threatens the Winter Kingdom.

A brother is turned to ice.

A rebel uprising is on the horizon.

Marble-maker Rye Cunnings is at the center of it all—and doesn’t know it.

He doesn’t know he’s the lost summer prince. Doesn’t know his blood can unlock Winter’s curse. Doesn’t know why the marbles he makes flutter with magic. All he thinks is that he’s crazy. That he sees things others don’t, like dragons and strange markings on his skin.

But when a dark dragon snatches away Rye’s only friend Milo, he is forced to face the crazy in his life and figure out a way to bring Milo back.

Help comes in the form of Cerdic Leit, a warrior who finds Rye to take him “home” to the Telluric Realm and their kind. All Rye has to do is follow him into Gatreau, the gateway to the four Telluric kingdoms, and all his questions will be answered.

In the hopes of saving Milo, Rye steps into this new and dangerous world. A world where he learns of the Tellurics and their Hansian foes. A world that is swept up in a bitter battle of justice and hate.

And a world that won’t let Rye leave again.
Excerpt

Rye Cunnings shivered and hoofed it down the cobblestone road, fixed on the slice of his marble store ahead. This was just another morning. Just another morning.

A drizzly dawn fingered through the low-hanging mist creeping along Bristol’s narrow streets. Lamppost lights flickered and blinked out, sucking their murky reflections from deep puddles. Rain hit Rye’s neck and face and the palm he pressed against his chest. The drops snaked down his sleeve and mixed with the blood at his wrist. It tingled, and Rye dabbed his cuff over the cut—a circle intersected with twelve loops.

A cut that he’d gouged out with his keys, following the shimmery pattern that had marked his skin for as long as he could remember.

Mist lurked over the Marvel Marbles store sign, thickening over the tattoo parlor and barber cushioning it on either side.

Inside was safe. He just needed to get inside.

He jogged over the road for the bright blue door beckoning him home. Each step jarred through his body to his aching head. He just needed to touch one of the marbles he made.

Key in his good hand, he sank it into the lock and twisted until the bar snapped back.

A figure prowled out from the shelter of the parlor entrance.

Rye choked back a gasp, then let out a relieved laugh. Milo. Just Milo.

“Stealthy as a cat, you are.”

“Purrrrrr.”

Milo smirked and slunk to his side, raindrops weaving through day-old stubble to the cleft in his chin. He studied Rye and lifted an eyebrow. “And where’ve you been?”

Doesn’t matter. Get inside!

Rye feigned nonchalance. “A walk.” A drug-induced, crazy person one. “Just a walk.”

He beckoned Milo inside, but he tilted his chin skyward and let the rain fall on his face. A small smile played at his lips. “And a mighty good morning for one. Fresh, today is. Invigorating. Where’d ya go?”

Where? Where he always regained consciousness: the local cemetery at the church ruin. Every week the same time, the same place, and always surrounded by a sea of daisies. “Just . . . about.”

Clouds rippled, growing darker. Rye sucked in sharply, grabbed Milo’s arm and steered him inside. He shut the door and sank back against the glass.

Milo strutted through the store, running fingers over jars of comets, cat’s eyes, peacocks and milky ways. Hundreds of jars filled the shelves on his walls. Sparklers, corkscrews, aces. Hundreds of colors glittered without light. Aquamarine, butterscotch yellow, magenta, and every shade in between.

Rye caught his breath and let the colors calm him. In a couple of hours the grandfather clock tucked between shelves would chime nine and kids would press their noses to the window and fog the glass as they took in the wonder of his store. The day would whip by with smiles and laughter. Then it’ll be sundown again, thank God.

Milo faced him, casting a look at his mud-crusted jeans. Rye tucked his bloodstained sleeve behind him. “You look like regurgitated hell, pudding.”

“And you wonder why I never let you into my bed.”

“You couldn’t handle me, love.”

Rye gripped the wooden “shut” sign as he peered through the rain-splotched glass to the sky. Milo came to his side, staring out the window with him.

“A bad sign, huh?”

Rye startled. “What?

“The weather. Means less customers, right?”

“Customers. Right.” His head pounded, his teeth ached. A marble. He needed one now. He shifted away from the windows but Milo planted a forearm on his shoulder.

“You seem on edge, Rye. Lock up for the morning. We’ll go out.”

Out? He shook his head. “Not today.”

A dark shape darted behind the gaps in the clouds. A shiver scuttled down Rye’s spine and he stepped back. Milo moved with him, oblivious to the danger that lurked out there.

“I need to make marbles,” Rye croaked.

“What you need is a day off, friend.”

“Haven’t made a marble in two days.”

“We could go to the carnival, hop on the Ferris wheel. Might even see above these clouds today.”

“How about some green tea?”

Milo pulled away, and Rye scampered across the store to his special marbles behind the counter.

“All right,” Milo said. “I’m going to be a bloody wanker and just say it: you don’t have a social life, mate. You never party. No one visits.”

“I’ve plenty of—”

“Customers don’t count.” Milo skulked closer. “Far as I can see, I’m the only friend you have. And that makes you one hell of a poor bastard.”

A sharp pang shot up Rye’s temple and he hissed, and scanned the middle shelf. He withdrew the largest jar, uncorked it, and dunked his fingers into the mass of silver swirls. Relief fingered up his arms, soothing the pain in his head and the ache from Milo’s advice.

He pocketed a marble.

Over the counter, Milo pointed at Rye’s bloodstained sleeve. “What happened, then?”

Rye resisted the urge to stare at his wrist. The cut never stayed long, would be nothing but faintly-scarred lines by now. Opening the door to his kitchen and marble-making workshop, he threw a hurried lie over his shoulder.

“It’s nothing. Had a raspberry smoothie.”

In the kitchen nook before his workshop, Rye picked up a half-filled pot of tea. Behind him came the clacking of boots, then a hand clamped over his shoulder, urging him around. Cold tea spilled out of the nozzle to the floor between them.

“What are you—?”

Milo pushed up Rye’s sleeve and revealed the circular scar, traced with dry blood. “How exactly did you have that raspberry smoothie?”

“Y-you wouldn’t understand.”

“Don’t underestimate me, I have vast, comprehendy abilities.”

Rye’s throat was tight. “I’m crazy, Milo. Certifiable.” He lifted the pot. “Green tea?”

Milo gently drew his black-painted nails around and over the mark. “You and green bloody tea.” He pulled Rye’s sleeve down. “I’ll have a cuppa.”

With a shaky hand, Rye poured them both a cup. Milo pinched his nose, downed his tea, and set the cup in the sink. “Ugh.”

Rye sipped his, then put it down. It didn’t settle his churning stomach.

“Now make me a marble, friend,” Milo said with a wink, and took out the pendant hanging under his shirt. “One with a bit of me in it.” He snapped off a thin corner and handed Rye the tiny wedge.

Rye stared at the piece on his palm. So small, so horribly scratched, and yet it warmed his entire hand. He clamped his fingers over it.

“Got any cash?”

“Put it on my tab.”

“I love it when I do work and no one pays me.” He moved into his workshop and Milo followed behind. “Reminds me of my last foster home.”

“Said so dryly. That’s exactly why I like you.” Milo flung himself on the stained brown couch at the flank of the room and slipped his hands behind his head. “I’ll lie here and share my woeful problems while you warm your glory hole. God, I love marbling.”

Rye tossed a fiber blanket at him. “I work with a torch.”

“Go on then, light up. Make magic.”

Swallowing, Rye glanced at Milo, who stared at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes. Make magic. He’d thought the same thing himself a thousand times. The way his marbles soothed his anxiety, or seemed to open locked doors, or throbbed warmly in his grip like they held secrets of who he was—what he was.

“I don’t make magic,” Rye said carefully.

Milo turned his head, waggling his brows. “Marvel me, then. Make me a nicer set of balls than I already have. Or better yet, make a marble that solves all my problems.”

“Such as cockiness?”

“Don’t go messing with anything starting with cock. All else is fair play.”

“Your assery it is then.”

Milo snorted.

“Entertain me with these oh-so woeful problems.” Make me forget mine.

“I’m too smart for my own good,” Milo said with a smirk. “And it’s going to cost me.”

“So dramatic.”

Milo looked pointedly toward Rye’s wrist.

“Point taken,” Rye said.

Milo’s phone rang and he swung off the couch. “You get to making that marble,” he said, ducking through the door. “I’ll be back.”

Rye took a sparkly gold glass rod from the jars on the shelf, bumping the small velvet pouch of marble monstrosities at the end. They’d been Milo’s attempts at marbling, pockmarked and pitiful. Yet he’d not brought himself to throw them away. They called to him with a magic of their own, the magic of a hundred shared laughs between them. Laughs that had been few-and-far-between before Milo had come into his life a year ago.

Rye set the melting glass next to the wedge of pendant. What style did Milo want? Did he wish his marble to glitter? To glow? To be dotted with silver?

He listened for Milo and was met with nothing but the creaking of his store door. Where had Milo gone to take his call? Rye shuffled to the kitchen. Empty. He checked the store.

“Milo?”

A breeze swept through the room. The front door was partially open and rain was pooling at the floor. Had Milo taken his call outside? Or had he left, like sometimes he did, without so much as a goodbye?

At the store window, Rye looked outside. The cloud had thickened. It hung low over shop roofs and gutters, only a few feet above the three umbrella-toting pedestrians huddled at the bus stop. Milo was strutting down the middle of the street toward the store, ash blond and soaked.

Rye waved.

The cloud burst, plumes pelting toward the ground, and a large winged body swooped down the street toward them.

Dragon.

Rye’s heart seized in his chest; he jerked his bloodied arm across his face and peered at the beast again, at its long snout, horns, and black scales, the arrowhead tail snaking behind it, whipping up gusts. The dragon dipped and umbrellas jerked, inverting into black poppies. Their owners laughed.

Rye ached to be one of those men, ignorant of the terror flying over them, of the dragon stretching its forelegs, clawed talons aimed at—

Milo!

Rye tried to shout but his voice was lost in the tight clutch of his throat.

The dragon whipped past the window. Wind surged and the door banged against the wall shelves, smashing a jar, glass shards and red marbles raining to the floor.

Rye shrank back into the shadows, shaking as the dragon snatched his friend and lifted into the clouds. Words echoed in his head, soft, placating…

Shhh. He won’t get you.

BuyLinks

Amazon US

Amazon UK

AuthorBio

A born and raised New Zealander from Wellington, I’ve been exploring the literary world since I started reading Roald Dahl as a kid. Stories have been piling up in my head ever since. Fast forward to my mid-twenties and jump a few countries (Germany, America, and back again), I started to put them to paper.

My genre of choice is romance, both adult and YA, gay and straight. You can take a closer look at my books, available as e-books for download in many formats!

When I’m not pushing my characters deeper into adventure, I chase my son around the house and fight my two comical cats for the desk chair.

Since 2014, I’m also part of CritShop Literary Services, specializing in writing workshops and editorial services for LGBT fiction.

|| Website || Facebook || Twitter ||

RafflecopterGiveaway

Winner’s Prize: E-copy of Locked

a Rafflecopter giveaway

TourSchedule

May 3: MM Good Book Reviews

May 4: Author J Scott Coatsworth

May 5: The Land of Make Believe

May 6: Bayou Book Junkie

May 9: Loving Without Limits

May 10: Cia’s Stories

May 11: Louise Lyons

May 12: The Purple Rose Tea House

May 13: Unquietly Me

May 16: Alpha Book Club

May 17: The Novel Approach :: Hearts on Fire

May 18: Molly Lolly: Reader, Reviewer, Lover of Words :: Drops of Ink

May 19: Love Bytes Reviews

May 20: MM Book Escape

https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js

May 2, 2016
sidlove

no comments

Website Reveal – Anyta Sunday

Anyta Sunday reveals her new website!

2016-04-25_21h22_42

locked.anytasunday.com

The Telluric people live in the four hidden kingdoms: Summer, Winter, Spring and Autumn, tasked with keeping Earth’s seasons in balance.
Forced into hiding during the crusades, their lore burned to ashes alongside many loved ones, the Tellurics work their magic unremembered by our world.
Through generations of secrecy, knowledge of their world has withered, with few warriors venturing outside the kingdoms to procure elements needed for their survival.

This website is a companion to the Telluric Realm trilogy, delving more into the history, society, and magic of the Telluric peoples.

 

Locked Buy Link: http://www.amazon.com/Locked-Telluric-Realm-Book-1-ebook/dp/B01DX3EAZQ/

2016-04-25_21h24_26

With an interactive map, you can get an idea where scenes are set. The map has markers that lead you to more details about places referenced in the book.

2016-04-25_21h25_33

Character pages summarize the main cast of Locked. And a timeline keeps important events in chronological perspective.

May 2, 2016
sidlove

3 comments

Release Day Blitz: Learning to Love by Felice Stevens

RDB_Banner

AboutTheBook

LearningToLove-600x900TITLE: Learning To Love

AUTHOR: Felice Stevens

COVER ARTIST: Reese Dante

LENGTH: 150 Pages

RELEASE DATE: May 2, 2016

BLURB: After ten years away from home, bad boy caterer Gideon Marks has a lot to prove. Getting the holiday catering job at his childhood synagogue is the first step in demonstrating to everyone he didn’t turn out to be the failure they predicted. What he doesn’t count on is Rabbi Jonah Fine, his high school nemesis and secret crush, stirring up old feelings Gideon thought long gone and secrets he’s buried deep for years.

An unexpectedly passionate encounter shocks Gideon, but he pushes Jonah away, convinced he isn’t good enough to be in a relationship and would never be accepted by Jonah’s father. But Jonah hangs tough—he won’t allow Gideon to hide or run away from life again. And when it comes to love, Gideon learns the most important lessons aren’t always taught in school.
Excerpt

 

“You realize we always talk about me, but I know nothing about you and what you’ve done for the past ten years.” I stood at my kitchen counter and after debating a moment, grabbed the flour. Not that I wanted to show off, but having Jonah here to cook for was an unexpected treat, and I might as well make him some biscuits to go along with the omelet. “What happened when you went to law school? Why did you really leave?” I turned on the oven to preheat it for the biscuits.

I poured the flour into a bowl, mixed in baking soda, baking powder, and salt, then crumbled the shortening mixture with my fingers, all the while waiting to hear about Jonah’s life. He lay stretched out on my sofa, as supremely comfortable as a cat in a patch of sunlight, and with a pang I wished this could be any normal Saturday for us—me making breakfast in the kitchen while chatting with Jonah.

He turned over on his stomach as I finished the dough and floured the marble slab I’d splurged on. I’d done this for so many years it was all second nature now and I could concentrate on Jonah.

“Like I said before, I hated it. I’m not a competitive person by nature; I never needed to be the best or number one.” He laid his cheek on his hands and stared off into space. “But I’d been dating someone, and we started getting into silly arguments about summer jobs and where we’d like to apply.”

I’d never imagined myself the jealous type, and realistically I understood Jonah was no virgin, but if the painful twist in my stomach at the thought of anyone else touching or kissing Jonah was any indication, I was in deep shit.

“Oh?” My voice remained neutral, but I was busy kneading the life out of the poor dough. Since it had never done anything personally to me, I willed myself to calm the hell down and set about rolling it out for the biscuits. “Were you two that serious?”

“Ben and I? Not really. He thought so and wanted more, but I made it clear from the beginning I wasn’t going to fall in love with him. I cared for him deeply and felt badly I couldn’t give him what he wanted.”

“What was that?” I jammed the biscuit cutter into the dough with sharp angry jabs.

“My heart.”

My hand stilled on the biscuit cutter, and I looked over at him. He met my gaze unflinchingly, and I could feel the heat rise in my face.

“Why not?” I had to ask.

Jonah stood and joined me in the kitchen, hemming me in against the counter. I admit to not putting up too much resistance, but it still took me by surprise.

“I was keeping it for when I met you again.” He cupped my cheek in his hand. “No matter what I would’ve ended up doing with my life, Gideon, finding you was always part of my plan.”

What could I say to that? Jonah’s words rolled around in my head like brilliantly colored marbles, setting off a kaleidoscope of emotions that scared the hell out of me.

I sidestepped out of his embrace, muttering, “I have to get these biscuits in the oven,” and grabbed the cookie sheet. My back was to Jonah, shielding my badly shaking hands gripping the pan. I placed the biscuit dough on the sheet and slid it into the oven. The familiarity of being in my kitchen and cooking balanced me, and I was grateful that Jonah, most likely having sensed my unease, had returned to the living room and his place on the sofa. Once he left the kitchen I found it easier to breathe.

BuyLinks

AuthorBio

I have always been a romantic at heart. I believe that while life is tough, there is always a happy ending around the corner, My character have to work for it, however. Like life in NYC, nothing comes easy and that includes love.

I live in New York City with my husband and two children and hopefully soon a cat of my own. My day begins with a lot of caffeine and ends with a glass or two of red wine. I practice law but daydream of a time when I can sit by a beach somewhere and write beautiful stories of men falling in love. Although there is bound to be angst along the way, a Happily Ever After is always guaranteed.

||  Facebook  ||  Twitter  ||  Pinterest  ||  Website  ||

For regular updates on upcoming books by Felice Stevens, sign up to her Newsletter

RafflecopterGiveaway

Winner’s Prize: $10 Amazon GC

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Check out other posts on –

:: Bayou Book Junkie :: The Purple Rose Tea House :: Diverse Reader :: MM Book Escape ::

:: Loving Without Limits :: TTC Books and More :: Fangirl Moments and My Two Cents ::

:: Wicked Faeries Tales & Reviews :: BFD Book Blog :: Alpha Book Club :: Drops of Ink ::

April 29, 2016
sidlove

2 comments

BLOG TOUR: Believing Rory by S.C. Wynne

BT_Banner

AboutTheBook

BelievingRoryLGTITLE: Believing Rory

AUTHOR: S.C. Wynne

PUBLISHER: Dreamspinner Press

COVER ARTIST: Garrett Leigh

LENGTH: 200 Pages

RELEASE DATE: April 29, 2016

BLURB: Will Rory bring them together or stand between them?

Eighteen-year-old Lane Graham has always relied on his braver, more confident buddy, Rory. But Rory’s sudden suicide blindsides Lane and sends him into an emotional tailspin. How’s he supposed to start college in a few months feeling this damaged?

Baron MacDonald knew Rory from playing League of Legends together. He was always intrigued by Lane’s online presence, and Rory had promised to set them up. Now that Rory’s gone, Baron has to approach Lane on his own.

On the surface, Baron and Lane couldn’t seem more different. Baron is confident and serious, and Lane is guarded and uncertain. But it’s the pain beneath the flesh that binds these two souls together like barbed wire and cement.
Excerpt

I guess I’m the stupid one for believing Rory.

I’m angry at him. I know there’s no point in that, because not only is he nowhere around to feel my wrath, he wouldn’t care if he was. Rory always went his own way. I needed him more than he needed me. Obviously. He proved that when he leapt into the great unknown without me. I can barely handle staying in my old familiar life, untethered from him.

Is it weird that my skin hurts? I’m so depressed my flesh actually aches. The ends of my hair feel sensitive as I watch Mrs. Greg approach with my math test in her hand. A bright red C sits at the top right of the paper. Thank God, I passed. My mom would take away my laptop if I fuck up in school again. Especially this close to graduation.

“I expected more from you, Lane.” Mrs. Greg sniffs and adjusts her black-rimmed glasses farther up the bridge of her nose.

I take my paper, feeling the eyes of the class on me. They probably all think I’m stupid. I’m not. I wonder how well they’d do on a math test if their best friend died the day before. I think a C was just fine, considering. Obviously I’m the only one who thinks that way since Mrs. Greg is still giving me a disapproving look, and the redheaded girl next to me is shaking her head. I want to skip ahead to lunch where I can tell Rory about how judgmental they’re all being. He’d rub my head and tell me to relax. You’re overthinking things again, L, he’d say with his white grin splitting his face.

But Rory’s dead.

My stomach rolls and I stand abruptly, knocking into my desk. “May I go to the bathroom?” Mrs. Greg hates letting kids go during class. But there must be something in my expression that softens her. Or maybe she just doesn’t want me throwing up in her classroom.

“Don’t be long.” She hands me the key with a huge wooden plaque attached.

I jangle my way through the hall and hurry to the bathroom. I slam into the stall and unload everything in my stomach. Then I sit breathing like a racehorse, with tears streaking down my cheeks. I don’t know what to do with all the rage I feel toward Rory. It feels like it’s eating me from the inside. I want to punch something. But instead I sit in a pathetic, crumpled heap, sobbing onto the wooden plaque with a key attached.

The bathroom door squeaks open and two guys come in. They’re laughing and fooling around. There are two stalls, and I’m occupying one. I peer under the fiberboard walls and glimpse expensive orange and black hi-tops. One person takes a piss while the other guy talks to him. I scramble to my feet and, keeping my gaze averted, go to the sink area and splash cold water on my cheeks. The guy waiting shuts up finally, and takes the stall I just left, as the other person comes around the corner and stops when he sees me. Then he continues on to wash his hands. Good bathroom manners. It’s a rarity among high school boys.

“Hey,” the guy says. He’s blond with spiky hair and the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. He’s watching me like he expects a response. Of course he would. Anyone well-bred enough to wash their hands after peeing expects a response when they speak to you.

“I have permission to be here.” I don’t know why I say that. We aren’t in prison, although sometimes it feels that way.

“Are you okay?” He sounds genuinely concerned.

Of course not, I want to scream. But instead I drop my gaze and turn to the door. “Is anybody?” I say finally as I leave.

Lunch is torture. If you’re dumb enough to only have one real friend to sit with, it kind of leaves you in the lurch if he kills himself. I’m not hugely popular. I’m not actually unpopular either. I’m one of those invisible kids who flits through the school years not leaving much of a mark on anything. God, maybe Mrs. Greg and that redheaded girl are right, and I am pathetic.

Somebody punches my shoulder. Wincing, I look up from my yogurt to find Mason Price standing over me. He’s the school clown. His talent surpasses just class clown. “I’m sorry about Rory,” he says gruffly.

He’s the only person who has even said a word about Rory dying. I’d have never expected such compassion from someone who sticks straws up his nose for a laugh.

“Thanks,” I say.

He punches my shoulder again and moves off. I guess hitting me makes him feel like less of a wimp when he offers me sympathy. I rub my shoulder and watch him join his friends. Someone plops a tray down across from me. Judy from science class has decided I need a pep talk. She has her hair dyed pink, with purple tips. Her makeup is similar to an anime character’s with thick eyeliner, and long fake lashes. She pops open her grape soda while staring at me. The color of the can matches the ends of her hair.

“You should have taken today off.” Her voice is gently chiding.

I stare at her wordlessly. If it were up to me, I’d take the rest of the school year off. But my mom wasn’t having any of it. She screeched at me until I was dressed and in the car. I didn’t have the energy to fight her. I just did as she said and now here I sit with my yogurt.

“There’s a suicide support group on campus. You should probably go.”

I wrinkle my brow and just watch her.

“Not that you’re going to hurt yourself. But they help the people left behind too.” She gulps her soda, her throat muscles moving up and down with each swallow.

Left behind. Fucking Rory left me behind.

“I’ll take it under consideration.” Wow. That was oddly formal. What, am I running for Congress or something? I’m finding it impossible to be normal. Well, my normal.

Her brown, makeup-enhanced eyes soften. “Rory was a dick.”

I should slap her for defaming my beloved friend. My lifelong buddy who jumped off a parking structure and left me all alone to face this fucked-up world. I’d rather hit Rory.

I nod.

She crunches her way through a bag of chips as she continues to study me like I’m bacteria lying in a petri dish. Then she says, “You can always talk to me if you want. I know you’re shy, so maybe a big group thing isn’t for you.”

Why does she care? I’ve had maybe three conversations with her in the four years of high school. Is she a psych major? Maybe that’s it. They love psychoanalyzing everyone. It makes them feel less crazy.

Somebody has carved their name into the top of the table along with a heart. Steve + Sally 4-ever. I trace my finger into the grooves, wondering if their undying love has survived high school. Steve would never off himself and leave Sally alone. The table wiggles and I notice Judy is getting up to leave.

“See you in class, I guess.” She wanders away into the crowd of students. She’s still easy to spot with her pink hair, though. Maybe that’s the point.

BuyLinks

Dreamspinner Press

Amazon US

Amazon UK

All Romance eBooks

AuthorBio

S.C. Wynne started writing m/m in 2013 and did look back once. She wanted to say that because it seems everyone’s bio says they never looked back and, well S.C. Wynne is all about the joke. She loves writing m/m and her characters are usually a little jaded, funny and ultimately redeemed through love.

S.C loves red wine, margaritas and Seven and Seven’s. Yes, apparently S.C. Wynne is incredibly thirsty. S.C. Wynne loves the rain and should really live in Seattle but instead has landed in sunny, sunny, unbelievably sunny California. Writing is the best profession she could have chosen because S.C. is a little bit of a control freak. To sit in her pajamas all day and pound the keys of her laptop controlling the every thought and emotion of the characters she invents is a dream come true.

If you’d like to contact S.C. Wynne she is amusing herself on Facebook at all hours of the day or you can contact her at scwynne@dslextreme.com

||  Facebook  ||  Twitter  ||  Blog  ||  Website  ||

RafflecopterGiveaway

Winner’s Prize: $10 Amazon GC & an e-copy of a book from the author’s backlist!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

TourSchedule

April 29: BFD Book Blog :: Diverse Reader

May 2: Bike Book Reviews :: The Novel Approach

May 3: Nautical Star Books

May 4: Wicked Faeries Tales & Reviews :: Love Bytes Reviews :: LeAnn’s Book Reviews

May 5: Cia’s Stories :: Drops of Ink

May 6: Bayou Book Junkie :: Alpha Book Club