Wednesday 28 February 2018

Release Blitz, Review Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway - RJ Scott - Winter Cowboy




Length: 70,000 words approx.

Cover Design: Meredith Russell

Blurb

Micah Lennox left Whisper Ridge after promising the man he loved that he would never return. But the only way he knows to keep his pregnant sister and nephew safe is to go home. Spending winter in Wyoming opens too many old wounds, but he's on the run from justice which can't be far behind, and this is his last chance at redemption.

After a hostage situation leaves Doctor Daniel Sheridan struggling with PTSD, he returns to Whisper Ridge. Joining his dad in family practice is a balm to soothe his exhausted soul, and somehow, he finds a peace he can live with. That is until he meets Micah in a frozen graveyard, and the years of anger and feelings of betrayal boiling inside him, erupt.

Two broken men fight and scratch for their lives and that of their families, and somehow, in the middle of it all, they find each other.

Is it possible that love can be rekindled and become a forever to believe in?



Feb 28 - Oh My Shelves, Annette Gisby, My Fiction Nook, The Blogger Girls
March 2 - Alpha's Do It Better, Bookaholic & Kindle
March 5 - Urban Smoothie Read, Gay Media Review
March 7 - BFD Book Blog, Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words, MM Good Book Reviews, Nerdy Dirty & Flirty
March 9 - Making It Happen, The Geekery Book Review, Wicked Reads, Slave To The Written Word
March 12 - Sexy Erotic Xciting, Reading In Sarah's Corner, Book Lovers 4Ever, Jim's Reading Room, Wicked Faerie's Tales & Reviews
March 14 - Xtreme Delusions, Drops Of Ink
March 15 - Hearts On Fire Reviews
March 16 - Valerie Ullmer, Mirrigold, Padme's Library, A Book Lover's Dream, Bayou Book Junkie



Excerpt

Chapter 1
2009, Daniel

A figure stood beside Isaac’s grave and I knew immediately who it was.

There was no marker yet for the boy who had died two weeks ago and who would forever be nineteen. Flowers marked his resting place, but snow had long since covered them and softened the raised earth so it wasn’t as obvious against the gravestones around the figure. A car accident had taken Isaac, killed him on impact, and his family grieved for a future that would never be realized.

I’d just left my brother, Chris, in the hospital, broken beyond repair in the same accident. At least we had the possibility of a future with him, even though the road to recovery would be hard. He was still in a medically induced coma, not yet awake to know he’d lost his leg, or that fire had marked his face. But he would wake up. They told us he’d live.

No one had asked me where I was going when I’d left Chris’ room, each of us lost in various stages of shock and grief, and we all dealt with what had happened in our own way. I’d needed to connect with Isaac. Needed the peace to balance the loss and guilt that ate away inside me.

Isaac dead on impact, Chris’ future destroyed, and in front of me, hunched over Isaac’s last resting place, was the man responsible for it all.

The man who left my bed in the dead of night to become a murderer.

Micah.

He was huddled into his coat, the January ice bitter by the buried, hands forced into his pockets, and his hood pulled around his face. Micah must have heard me, because he glanced my way, startled, grief written on his face. And then his expression changed.

He stepped toward me, his expression full of something like hope.

“Daniel?” he said. “Is Chris okay? No one will let me see him.”

He stopped walking when I didn’t reach out for him and looked at me uncertainly.

“His leg is gone, down from his knee,” I explained dispassionately, and then touched my face, “and his burns are bad, the left side of his face from his temple to his chin.”

“Shit. Shit.” Micah bent at the waist, as if he couldn’t breathe, and he was crying.

“How is it you don’t have a mark on you?” I asked, still eerily calm, and utterly focused.

He took his hand from his pocket, and pulled up his sleeve, exposing bandages. “I was burned,” he began. He dropped his hand when I didn’t comment, forced it back into his pocket, wincing as he did so.

I imagined the burn hurt a little, maybe even a lot, but he was there, as whole and real as when he’d left my bed on that terrible day.

In my mind I saw Chris in the hospital, the covers raised over the cage which protected his surgical site, then dipping lower where his ankle should have been. I saw a clear image of Isaac the day before he died, knocking for Chris and grinning at me as if he had the greatest secret to tell his best friend.

And here was Micah, telling me he had slight burns on his arm? The same man who’d told me in one breath that he loved me and then had stolen my car, driving it into a bridge and killing one boy, leaving another maimed and in a coma.

My fist flew, clenched aggression targeting Micah’s face, his cheekbone, and I heard a satisfying crunch. He staggered back a step, but he didn’t go down, and he didn’t take his hands from his pockets. I was too fast. I hit him again, blood flecking his face, dissipating into the icy air. He moved again, the force of my blows shoving him back.

Still, his hands remained in his pockets, and he was unnervingly quiet, taking my hits as if they were nothing at all. Another punch connected with his lip and split the skin, and this time he grunted in pain. He staggered backward toward the next grave and bent back over the stone marker with the force of that final blow. I stepped closer. I hit him again, connecting with his jaw, but the hit wasn’t hard. There was nothing to it; he didn’t move away.

“You took my car,” I yelled, right in his face.

“You said I could borrow it,” he pleaded.

I raised my hand to hit him again, but he winced, and closed his eyes, and I wanted him to look at me. “Open your damn eyes!”

He did, and he wouldn’t avert his gaze, naked grief in his expression.

“Daniel, please listen.”

“You’ve destroyed Chris’ life.”

“I know.”

“You need to leave Whisper Ridge, and never come back. I don’t want to see your face, I don’t want Chris to ever see you again. You understand?”

“I understand,” his tone low and broken.

“You will never come back here.” I shook him. He was smaller than me, thinner, lighter, and I shook him so hard his head snapped back. “Promise me!”

“I pr—promise,” he said through tears.

I was disgusted by him, hated him, wanted to kill him right there on Isaac’s grave.

“I hope they lock you up and throw away the fucking key!” I was still shouting, and he didn’t move, just stared at me with those pale eyes, red and wet from crying. He wouldn’t stop crying. “Don’t fucking stare at me!”

I shoved him one last time, and then before I could work out what the hell I was still doing there shouting at him, I pivoted and turned my back on him, and on Isaac’s grave, and the entire carnage.

RJ’s goal is to write stories with a heart of romance, a troubled road to reach happiness, and most importantly, that hint of a happily ever after.

RJ Scott is the bestselling author of over one hundred romance books. She writes emotional stories of complicated characters, cowboys, millionaire, princes, and the men who get mixed up in their lives. RJ is known for writing books that always end with a happy ever after. She lives just outside London and spends every waking minute she isn’t with family either reading or writing.

The last time she had a week’s break from writing she didn’t like it one little bit, and she has yet to meet a bottle of wine she couldn’t defeat.



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Tuesday 27 February 2018

Release Blitz, Review Tour & Giveaway - Annabelle Jacobs - Bitten By The Alpha (Regent's Park Pack #4)




Length: 76,000 words

Cover Design: Natasha Snow

Regent's Park Pack Series

Book #2 - Bitten By Design
Book #3 - Bitten By Desire

Blurb

Gareth’s heart is set on Cam, but Cam’s heart broke a long time ago.

As alpha of the Regent’s Park Pack, Cam’s focus is always centred on its members—his personal life pushed aside after the death of his wife. Now that his pack has merged with the Primrose Hill shifters, he can't afford any distractions.

Gareth’s been in love with his alpha for years, but his position as beta complicates matters. Added to the fact Cam still mourns his late wife, Gareth knows his feelings will never be reciprocated, so he buries them deep.

With the two packs already struggling to unite under one alpha, they get a surprise addition—one who causes more tension within the ranks. Under such strain, long-kept secrets are forced into the open. Gareth and Cam must deal with the aftermath, while also keeping the pack’s best interests at heart.



February 27 - Mikku-chan, Gay Book Reviews, My Fiction Nook, Deseos del anochecer
March 3 - Making It Happen, Love Bites & Silk Ties, Diverse Reader
March 5 - Sexy Erotic Xciting, V's Reads
March 7 - Mirrigold: Mutterings & Musings
March 9 - Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words, Gay Media Reviews, MM Good Book Reviews
March 14 - Valerie Ullmer, Book Lovers 4Ever
March 16 - Sinfully MM Book Reviews, Dog-Eared Daydreams, Bayou Book Junkie, A Book Lover's Dream Book Blog


About The Author

Annabelle Jacobs lives in the South West of England with three rowdy children, and two cats. An avid reader of fantasy herself for many years, Annabelle now spends her days writing her own stories. They're usually either fantasy or paranormal fiction, because she loves building worlds filled with magical creatures, and creating stories full of action and adventure. Her characters may have a tough time of it - fighting enemies and adversity - but they always find love in the end.

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AJacobs_fiction
Website: www.annabellejacobs.com
Email: ajacobsfiction@gmail.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ajacobsfiction

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Monday 26 February 2018

Retro Review Tour Audio & Ebook, Excerpt & Giveaway - L.A. Witt - Before There Were Three: Ethan & Rhett




Buy Links Audio: Amazon US | Amazon UK | Audible US | Audible UK

Length Ebook: 36,000 words

Length Audiobook: 3hrs 35mins


Blurb

Before Kieran....

Seattle, 2000 - Ethan Mallory is counting down the days until he moves back to Toronto. He loves Seattle, but it's time to go home.

So it's just his luck that, with a month to go, he meets Rhett Solomon. Their chemistry is off the charts, and in bed, Rhett is everything Ethan's been craving. He's witty and charming outside the bedroom too.

Ethan's not about to change his plans for a man he's just met, but what could this become if they had a little more time? Is this just a sizzling hot last hurrah before he returns to Canada? Or is leaving Rhett behind a huge mistake?

Excerpt

Seattle, Washington
Spring 2000

The clock between the top shelf rows of bourbon and vodka said it was five minutes after nine. My watch said four after, but quibbling over a minute in either direction was pointless. Jay was supposed to be here at seven-thirty. No call. No show.

Bottom line? Whichever timepiece had it right, I was getting stood up.

I threw back the last of my screwdriver and pushed the glass away. Well, that was a wasted Friday night. Question was, what to do with what was left of it? Get wasted? Or hit up one of the clubs and see if I could find someone to fill Jay’s role for the night?

That thought nearly made me groan. I was sick of the club scene. That was why I’d decided to try this whole meeting-guys-online thing in the first place. Everyone said the Internet was crawling with psychos, but so far, my luck had been decent. Connecting with someone, chatting a little, making sure we both knew what we wanted—no commitment beyond maybe a morning after cup of coffee—and then meeting up in a public place. If there was chemistry, decent hygiene, and no symptoms of being a serial killer, going to whoever’s place was closest and fucking each other into the mattress. Simple.

The online thing was a gamble, but it was so much more efficient and to the point than meeting someone in a club. Clubs were all right, but sometimes I wanted a sure thing. Something better than trying to exchange basic information like first names over loud music, hoping the other guy wasn’t thinking about soulmates and co-signed leases, and then having a frantic trial run in a men’s room or a vehicle before… well… going to whoever’s place was closest and fucking each other into the mattress.

I was sometimes tempted to tell a guy to just meet me at my apartment. Skip all this bullshit and forget pretending we’d met up for anything we could do in polite company. But meeting people on the web was risky, and I was much more comfortable feeling someone out in person before I took them back to my place. It also helped to make sure there was some actual chemistry, and that there was attraction. If we didn’t click enough to make it work, bowing out of a bar was much easier than kicking someone out of my house.

But it was all a moot point if the guy didn’t even bother to show up.

I muttered a few curses to myself. I really needed to get out of here and find something—or someone—else to do. Since the efficient and to the point technique hadn’t worked out tonight, though, there was always the fallback. Seattle’s Capitol Hill had a number of gay clubs. Tedious, but it wasn’t like I had anything else going on tonight.

It was still early, though—seven or eight after nine, depending on which clock I asked—so there was no point in hustling out of here. Most places didn’t really wake up until after ten.

So I flagged down the bartender and asked for an iced tea, then folded my arms on the bar and gazed down at the dining room. This was one of those bar and grill places with a semi-swanky bar up on a mezzanine overlooking a linen tablecloth restaurant. The food smelled amazing as always. I’d heard they made a hell of a steak here. Small wonder this was the go-to place for those on the dating scene. Most nights, the clientele was pretty evenly split between straight and gay couples, and tonight was no exception.

I had no interest in a relationship right now—especially not when I was packing up and leaving Seattle in a few weeks—but admittedly, I was a little envious of some of these people. I’d been more or less alone since I’d moved here two years ago. Most of the time, I was happy with that as long as I was getting laid on a regular basis. Sometimes, though, I missed being with someone like that. Talking over dinner, maybe sharing a bottle of wine, or kicking back in front of a movie and maybe falling asleep before the credits started rolling.

Someday. Maybe. For the rest of my time in Seattle, though, my goal was someone to keep my bed warm at night and be gone before noon. Unless the sex was really hot. Then he could stick around long enough for us to fuck a few more times. But definitely gone before noon the next day. Once a one night stand turned into two, things could get—

Oh, what have we here?

A face in the dining room caught my eye, and my drink almost slipped out of my hand. Whoa. I’d never seen him before, but I sure saw him now, and he was sure easy on the eyes. Built like he knew what a gym was. Neatly cut sandy blond hair. A dusting of five o’clock shadow along a sharp jaw line. Eyes that, even from across the restaurant, shrank my vocabulary to expletives and racy suggestions.

Apparently I was that horny tonight. Stood up, and now zeroing in on the most gorgeous face in the crowd. Except that was an exceptionally gorgeous face. The man I’d come here to meet didn’t hold a candle to this guy. Wow.

Pity he was here on what appeared to be a date with someone.

On the other hand, he looked like he was enjoying his date the way most people enjoyed standing in line at the DMV. He leaned against the back of his chair, as if to put as much distance between him and his date as he could. His expression alternated between neutral-edging-toward-boredom to outright uncomfortable.

The guy sitting across from him didn’t seem to notice or care. He gestured animatedly, sometimes with his highball, and whenever he laughed, his date squirmed a little more. At one point, the guy with his back to me shook his head, apparently laughing, and his date grimaced behind his own drink before downing most of the contents in one swallow.

Just before he lowered the glass, his eyes flicked up and met mine. I jerked my gaze away, cheeks burning as I realized I’d been staring. But then I glanced his way again. He stared right back. His forehead creased, and his face said nothing if not Help?

I raised my eyebrows. What do you want me to do?

He broke eye contact.

That was weird. I’d probably just imagined it, but I swore there’d been a momentary connection. A telepathic exchange, or at least an attempt at one. And the guy did seem pretty miserable. What exactly was a stranger going to do about it, though? I wasn’t even much of a wingman for my friends—what was I supposed to do here?

The guy said something to his date, gestured at his empty glass, and got up.

And dear God, he strode right across the dining room and up the stairs to the mezzanine where I was sitting. The bar was almost entirely deserted except for myself and a couple at the other end, so he could’ve stood anywhere, but he stopped right beside me. He flagged down the bartender and asked for a couple of beers. While he waited, he didn’t look at me.

“Waiting for someone?” he asked.

“No one who’s going to show up, no.”

This time he glanced my way, arching an eyebrow.

I shrugged. “Everyone gets stood up sometimes, right?”

He laughed dryly. Before he could say anything, though, the bartender handed him his two drinks.

The guy paid, but didn’t collect his drinks right away. Instead, he asked for a pen, then wrote something on the back of a coaster and slid it toward me. Without a word or even another glance, he took his drinks and headed back down to the dining room.

I turned over the coaster. On it, there was a phone number, and below that:

If you call this # in 2 min, I’ll buy you a drink @ After Hourz.

My heart skipped. I glanced his way again. He was back at his table, casually sipping his drink and listening to whatever his date had to say. His eyes flicked toward me, but his expression offered nothing.

I had almost no signal in the bar, so I paid my small tab and stepped outside. I was getting low on minutes, but curiosity trumped any concern I had about overage fees, so I entered the number and hit Send.

After two rings, he answered. “This is Rhett.”

“Well,” I chuckled. “Now I know your name.”

“Shit, are you serious?” He paused and exhaled. “And you couldn’t call—fine. Fine.”

I suppressed a laugh. God knew what story he was going to feed his date, but he deserved an Oscar for sounding legitimately annoyed and concerned.

He went on, “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Thanks.”

And then he hung up.

I stared at my phone for a moment. This definitely wasn’t how I’d expected my evening to play out, and where it went from here, I had no idea. But meeting up with a stranger who I’d just bailed out of a bad date seemed like a better direction than moping about my own failed date before searching for some anonymous sex at a club. It was a more interesting turn of events, that was for sure.

With no idea what to expect, I walked over to After Hourz, sat down at the bar, and waited.


February 26 - MM Midnight Cafe, Mirrigold: Mutterings & Musings, Sarandipity Book Reviews
February 27 - Booklove, Xtreme Delusions
February 28 - Southern Babes Book Blog, Velvetpanic, Making It Happen, MM Good Book Reviews
March 2 - Drops of Ink, Bayou Book Junkie

About The Author

L.A. Witt is an abnormal M/M romance writer who has finally been released from the purgatorial corn maze of Omaha, Nebraska, and now spends her time on the southwestern coast of Spain. In between wondering how she didn’t lose her mind in Omaha, she explores the country with her husband, several clairvoyant hamsters, and an ever-growing herd of rabid plot bunnies. She also has substantially more time on her hands these days, as she has recruited a small army of mercenaries to search South America for her nemesis, romance author Lauren Gallagher, but don’t tell Lauren. And definitely don’t tell Lori A. Witt or Ann Gallagher. Neither of those twits can keep their mouths shut…

Website: http://www.gallagherwitt.com
E-mail: gallagherwitt@gmail.com
Twitter: @GallagherWitt
Blog: http://gallagherwitt.blogspot.com


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Saturday 24 February 2018

Release Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway - Addison Albright - Closets Are For Clothes (Dream On Book #1)




Length: 43,199 words

Publisher: JMS Books

Blurb

Mike’s life is carefully compartmentalized. He’s deep in the closet to his family back in Kansas, but lives life honestly and openly in Austin. He’s unnerved when Wes, his old university crush, turns up at his door in answer to a roommate advertisement, but quickly sees the potential…benefits of the arrangement. Wes has never doubted nor denied his sexuality. With the support of his family he’s an out and proud LGBT activist.

On the scale balancing his self-esteem on one side, and the love of his family on the other, Mike has to decide which weighs more. Is Mike being fair to his parents by not giving them the chance to know his real self? When the delicate balance of his life is disrupted, he decides he’s tired of living a lie. Will Wes understand his concerns, or will their fledgling relationship crumble under the strain of Mike’s uncertainty?



Excerpt

I walked down the narrow aisle with a book jammed under my arm and holding my carry-on bag in front of me as I focused on the labels for the rows. Due to the effect my nerves were having on my stomach, I was beginning to regret the meal I’d eaten during the two-hour layover in Houston.

I found my aisle seat, but it was occupied. Nobody sat in the window seat. This leg of my trip used a smaller plane—Wichita was hardly a bustling hub—and there were only two seats on either side of the aisle.

My shoulders stiffened, waiting for the request. My guess was he had a traveling companion, but they’d booked their flight too late to get two seats together. I’d be willing to trade, but I hoped it would at least be to another aisle seat. I wasn’t claustrophobic at all, but I preferred the freedom an aisle seat provided.

I stopped in front of my row and looked at the man, my eyebrows raised questioningly. He stood and stepped into the aisle. I opened my mouth, but wasn’t entirely sure what to say. He hadn’t moved on. He stood as if waiting to sit back down after letting me in. “I’m sorry.” I held up my boarding pass. “Apparently, there’s some confusion. This is my seat, here.”

“You don’t mind, do you?”

My whole body tensed at his tone. As if he simply assumed I’d switch seats for no obvious reason beyond he preferred mine. Which frankly—dammit—was likely to happen because I was non-confrontational and this wasn’t worth the fight. But it pissed me off that he wasn’t asking, acting like it was a done deal, and he didn’t even try to offer justification. He also had the kind of smile you see on people trying to sell you a load of crap, be it a used car or a dubious political position.

“Is there a problem?” The inquiry came from behind—a male voice with a polite but firm tone.

“No problem,” the man in front of me said. The slick politician smile that had come so naturally to him now seemed strained, or rather, a mild sneer supplemented it. “We were just switching seats.”

“Sir, do you want to switch seats with this gentleman?” the flight attendant asked.

“Gentleman” was a generous term for the jerk, but points for diplomacy. I was sure the answer was obvious. I’d booked an aisle seat because that’s what I preferred. But I imagined that wasn’t the real question. I wasn’t sure if the flight attendant would rather, like me, avoid a confrontation, or if he’d like to see the pushy bastard put in his place. I knew which I’d rather see if I were a random spectator, but I wasn’t.

“I’m willing to switch.” But I refused to say I “wanted” to. It was a cop-out, but it would be miserable enough sitting next to the guy for the next couple hours without adding the possibility of his simmering hostility to the mix.

I hefted my carry-on bag into the overhead bin and sidled across to the window seat. I sat with my book in my lap and stared out the window at the tarmac, hoping it was clear I wasn’t interested in making small-talk and wished to be left alone.

The man parked himself back in the seat that should have been mine, and the flight attendant made his way toward the back of the plane.

“Jesus H. Christ. We had it under control,” the man muttered.

Apparently, being left in peace was too much to wish for. As my dad liked to say, you could wish in one hand and—

“Don’t know why that faggot felt he needed to stick his nose in our business.”

My grip on the book tightened and I spun without thinking toward the man. “Excuse me?” My tone oozed with aversion. I didn’t try to hide my feelings, so I’m sure the incredulous disgust I felt at his use of that word showed on my face as well.

Was it Wes’s influence or was I more likely to stick up for someone else than for myself? I wasn’t sure which, but I found I couldn’t let that go without expressing my repugnance at his shameless and vocal bigotry. I didn’t even know if he was simply using the word as a general derogatory insult or if he’d assumed the flight attendant was gay because of his career choice.

His lip curled as a soft snort puffed from between his thin lips. “I said, I don’t know why that fellow felt he needed to stick his nose in our business.”

That wasn’t what he’d said. I hadn’t imagined it. But I wasn’t going to pursue it. If nothing else, at least he knew his prejudice wasn’t always going to be accepted when aired in public. The more people realized it was bigotry that needed to be hidden in a closet, not the targets of it, the better the world would be. Yeah, Wes’s activism was influencing me.

I turned back to the window, closed my eyes, and counted to ten before reopening them. This was the last thing I wanted to deal with on the flight home to come out to my parents. My gut was churning enough without this added stress.

I’d been rather proud of how I’d managed to push aside my uncertainties the past two weeks and return to being my regular normal self. Right up until it had been time to head to the airport, anyway. I’d studied Wes’s pamphlets, and Greg had taken a set of them home, too, so he could be prepared on my behalf. That alone had taken a huge share of the weight off my shoulders.

Even so, now that the big moment was looming, it took a concerted effort to not be that jittery guy on the plane that everyone kept an eye on, waiting for them to crack and brandish a nail file that had slipped by security. Sure, there was a good chance everything would be fine. But there was still a possibility that my relationship with my parents would never be the same, and there was a huge sliding scale of degree for that potential unpleasantness.

Would my dad react similarly to the man sitting next to me? Under pressure, faced with his son admitting to being gay after he’d spent years talking about how wrong he felt that was, would he crack? He’d never used that word—“faggot.” He’d never used any kind of derogatory word.

Thinking back, I knew Greg was probably right about Dad’s apparent angle during his campaign to convince me it would be wrong to be gay. It all boiled down to the motivations behind his efforts. Was it as simple as he’d convinced himself I was making a choice, and wanted the best possible life for me, or did he think there was something intrinsically wrong—sordid, contemptible—with being gay?

Would I lose his respect? His love? Would holidays forevermore be tense? Helen was on my side, thank goodness, but what if Dad were to become convinced that I couldn’t be trusted around her two young children? I shifted in my seat, trying to get comfortable, but it couldn’t keep my mind from picturing him mining for all his arguments from only websites that were biased against LGBTQI+ people and not seeking the truth from a fair balance of sources. If that was the case, then there’d be a good chance he’d bought into a lot of the bullshit they were peddling. The fact he’d held off saying the more disparaging claims didn’t mean he hadn’t read them and thought there might be something to them.

The plane taxied down the runway and took off, and I turned my gaze to my book. I’d brought Andy Weir’s The Martian because I’d read it before and loved it, and I’d figured I might be distracted, so it’d be best not to try to follow a new story.

I opened the book, read the first three lines with the character thinking he was “pretty much fucked,” and closed it again. I didn’t believe in omens, but that summed up how I felt. It was just a question of degree.


About Addison

Addison Albright is a writer living in the middle of the USA. Her stories are gay (sometimes erotic) romance in contemporary settings. Her education includes a BS in Education with a major in mathematics and a minor in chemistry. Addison loves spending time with her family, reading, popcorn, boating, french fries, “open window weather,” cats, math, and anything chocolate. She loves to read pretty much anything and everything, anytime and anywhere.

Website | Notifications Newsletter SignupFacebook Page | Facebook Profile | Twitter | Pinterest | Instagram


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Thursday 22 February 2018

Release Blitz - Penny Brandon - Blind Passion




Length: 82,000 words approx. 

Blurb

Attraction for Adam was not a handsome face, a striking smile, or beautiful eyes, but a scent that would drive him to distraction or a voice that could make his heart beat faster. When the combination of the two walked into his life in Luke, Adam couldn’t help but want him. But how was he supposed to know if Luke felt the same attraction? He had no prior experience, no past encounters, nothing to help him. Not even his sight.

One look at Adam and Luke wanted him. Sensual, gorgeous, kind, with a strength that Luke was drawn to, Adam was everything Luke desired. Being in Adam’s arms, showing him the pleasure of a man’s body, being touched, held, and desired in return, had Luke wanting more, had him wanting what he knew he couldn’t have.

It didn’t matter to him that Adam was blind, but Adam deserved more than someone like him. Luke was a man with a broken past and falling in love with Adam was a foolish thing to do, especially because Adam would never love him back if he found out what Luke was hiding.


About Penny

Penny is a complete romantic who believes everyone can fall in love if only they'll open their heart to the possibility, which is why she writes these hot erotic stories that will always have a happily every after. However, it doesn't mean that she'll make it easy for her men to get there. A lover of things that go bump in the night, Penny's imagination can sometimes run riot, so magic mirrors and evil dolls are only the beginning.

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Wednesday 21 February 2018

Release Blitz & Review Tour - Jay Northcote - Practice Makes Perfect (Housemates #6)




Cover Design: Garrett Leigh @ Black Jazz Design

Length: 58,000 words approx

Housemates Series

Book #1 - Helping Hand
Book #2 - Like A Lover 

Blurb

Ryan isn't looking for a relationship with a guy--and Johnny isn't looking for a relationship at all.

Ryan's always been attracted to tall, leggy blondes--normally of the female variety. When Johnny catches his eye at a party, Ryan's interest is piqued even though he's never been with a guy before. The attraction is mutual, and the amazing night that follows opens Ryan's eyes to his bisexuality.

Experience has taught Johnny that love hurts. Staying single is safer, and there's no need for complicated relationships when hooking up is easy. When he moves in next door to Ryan, they're both interested in picking up where they left off, and it seems like an ideal arrangement: convenient, mutually satisfying, and with no strings attached.

Despite their best intentions to keep things casual, they develop an emotional connection alongside the physical one. Both begin to want more from the relationship but are afraid to admit it. If they're going to work things out, they need to start being honest--first with themselves, and then with each other.

Although this book is part of the Housemates series, it has new main characters, a satisfying happy ending, and can be read as a standalone.








Jay lives just outside Bristol in the West of England. He comes from a family of writers, but always used to believe that the gene for fiction writing had passed him by. He spent years only ever writing emails, articles, or website content.

One day, Jay decided to try and write a short story—just to see if he could—and found it rather addictive. He hasn’t stopped writing since.

Jay writes contemporary romance about men who fall in love with other men. He has five books published by Dreamspinner Press, and also self-publishes under the imprint Jaybird Press. Many of his books are now available as audiobooks.

Jay is transgender and was formerly known as she/her.

www.jaynorthcote.com
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Friday 16 February 2018

Release Blitz & Giveaway - Alex Jane - Home In Your Heart (Alphas' Homestead #4)



Length: 70,000 words approx

Cover Design: Alex Jane

Alphas' Homestead Series

Book #2 - Returning Home

Blurb

When Martha returns to the homestead after five years away at school, the excitement of her arrival is somewhat overshadowed. There’s a new pack in town who appear friendly enough but something about them raises both the Alphas hackles. But any reservations about their new neighbors don’t stop Martha from falling for the charms of the handsome wolf set on seducing her.

With his stubborn daughter intent on giving up her future plans, his youngest son out of control and Ephraim not doing much better, Caleb struggles to keep his family together, risking his relationship with Jacob in the process. And, of course, the surprise guest that Martha brings with her doesn’t help matters either.

And as for Martha, her whole life has been an adventure of books and learning, until Albert captures her heart. But while she wrestles with her feelings, there’s a constant presence waiting in the wings. Someone that will catch her if she falls. Someone that always has, and always will. If she’ll let him.

No matter how far you go, there will always be a home for you in my heart.


About Alex

After spending far too long creating stories in her head, Alex finally plucked up the courage to write them down and realized it was quite fun seeing them on the page after all.

Free from aspirations of literary greatness, Alex simply hopes to entertain by spinning a good yarn of love and life, wrapped up with a happy ending. Although, if her characters have to go through Hell to get there, she’s a-okay with that.

With only a dysfunctional taste in music and a one-eyed dog to otherwise fill her days, Alex writes and walks on the South Coast of England—even when her heart and spellcheck are in New York.

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