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Blog Tour: Snow White & The Seven Angels by Rhys Ethan

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Title: Snow White & the Seven Angels
Series: Queerky Tales
Author: Rhys Ethan
Genre: Fantasy, Fairy Tale, LGBT, Retelling, Kids’ Books
Length: Novella

The classic tales you know, the characters with secrets you don’t 


White has a secret. One he has shared with his family to no avail. When he meets the Prince of his dreams, he decides he can no longer live a lie, but in order to do so, he will have to face his worst nightmares.

Queerky Tales is a series of classic fairy tales retold with LGBT characters. Snow White & the Seven Angels is about fighting for your happy-ever-after, whatever shape it comes in.

For children and adults alike.

Snow White Cover

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About the Author

Rhys Christopher Ethan is by no means a scientist, but he is an architect of his own fantasy worlds; an illustrator of emotional and multi-dimensional characters; a doctor of creativity and inspiration and a chemist of genres; mixing two or more, to find the perfect fit for his creations. He lives in a small, dusty lab he calls Home in London and works hard to bring his experiments out into the world. His companions (for now) are his pet-Laptop and his coffee-Booster and a bunch of notes, digitized and paper-wise. He voices his obsessions on his website, rants on twitter @Rhys_Ethan, shares messages on and pins his muses on You can contact him at, or if you’re telepathic, he will probably meet you in your dreams.

December 15th, 2015|Categories: Blog Tour|0 Comments

Blog Tour: Spindrift Gifts by Aidee Ladnier


Spindrift Gifts

Spindrift Gifts: A Holiday Sequel to The Klockwerk Kraken

MLR Press | Amazon | iBooks | All Romance eBooks | Kobo | Barnes and Noble


When his memories begin endangering his happily-ever after on Celos, Jimenez is forced to choose between forgetting his lover Teo, or accepting the sometimes painful gifts of Spindrift.

Scars and a tattoo may be the only physical reminders from his years as a slave, but when Jimenez suffers a setback in his medical treatment, the only option is a therapy that will wipe away all his memories of the past including his time with Teo. Teo, torn between supporting his lover’s decisions and the good intentions of his family, sets out to teach Jimenez about Spindrift Gifts and how memories are celebrated on Celos even when they are painful. Can Teo and Jimenez weather the storm to find their happily-ever-after on Celos?

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“Is it a memory box?”

Teo set it on the table with a clack. “Same principle. It’s our Spindrift gift for the rev. We each put a memory in one to add to the family collection. And then at the gala they all glow on the lighted tree.”

“Tree? Do you grow trees on Celos?”

Teo chuckled. “Not really. It’s a light-painted representation of a tree, like one of those from old Earth. It’s a family tree. Each branch holds the most important memories for the rev from that branch of the family.”

“A shared memory?” Jimenez ran a finger along the smooth top of the tiny cube. It blushed a delicate pink at his touch.

“No. It’s personal, a gift, a painful or a pleasant one. One you share because it hurts, and you smooth the edges by giving it away, or one of your favorites you want others to experience. But you give one from the past rev.”

Their conversation grew hushed. Teo attempted to lighten the mood. He grabbed the leftover paper from his package and folded it into the shape of a little boat.

“I’ve been trying to think of one that would be suitable for family viewing.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Jimenez glared at him. “That’s not the all we’ve done this rev.”

He picked up the cube and activated it. Teo stared transfixed as Jimenez pulled it close to his mouth and breathed a puff of air over it, his fingers whitening at the tips as he remembered.

Teo wondered which memory put that serene smile on his lover’s face, smoothing the furrows lining his brow. Was it onboard his ship in the Nothing? Or maybe one with Teo on Switchpoint?

“What did you record? Can I see it?” He whispered, unwilling to break the spell of Jimenez’s memory.

Jimenez opened his eyes, and his fingers clutched the small cube. But he smiled at it like it held a secret.

“I’m not sure this is one to give away. Do you have extra cubes?”


Character Bios

Below are the bios as well as the visual models I used for my main characters in Spindrift Gifts and the novel The Klockwerk Kraken.


Kevin Rettinger is the visual model for the Pod, Teo, the bartender of the Klockwerk Kracken who falls for a spacer and then takes him home to meet his family and celebrate the Celosian holiday of Spindrift. Teo, like most people on Celos has four tentacles in addition to his human standard body. These extra arms are a result of his ancestors undergoing genetic modification in order to give them advantages when settling the planet of Celos. He left home after finishing school and bummed around the galaxy before settling on the Switchpoint Waystation where he opened his bar, The Klockwerk Kraken. Although most people on Celos rarely leave planet, Teo yearned for a little adventure. Some of that was a result of the stories his godfather told him—Teo’s godfather is a two-armed human who came to Celos as a visiting scientist but stayed when he fell in love, marrying into Teo’s extended family. Teo has a smattering of his mother’s talent for painting, all the kraken paintings on his old bar were painted by him personally. When he bought The Klockwerk Kraken, it was an old warehouse on the edge of the port. He fixed it up and made it a safe place for customers to have a drink near the docks. He offered food because he learned to cook from his Dad who’s an amateur foodie on Celos. Teo grew up playing several instruments (although he’s no professional like his sister Carlsa) and has a very nice baritone singing voice. One of the things he loves to do on Celos is go swimming. There were several bacteria outbreaks in the pools on the Switchpoint Waystation so he was afraid to swim there. He is one of only four children in his family (considered an extremely small family on Celos). He is also the only one of his siblings that is not married with children. But since meeting Jimenez, that might change in the future…


Iker Casillas Fernández is my visual model for the spacer Jimenez, a man tortured by his past and trying to make a brighter future for himself. Jimenez was born a slave in a crèche where children are bred from anonymous germ cells. Slave behaviors were grown into his brain and taught during his childhood. At adolescence the pleasure centers of his brain were connected to a tattoo above his ankle, designating him a body slave. He was sold to a miner on a distant outpost and used not only for sex but also as a laborer. He was freed after a takeover of the colony company by an abolitionist corporation. The new company cleaned out the slave population. At this point, Jimenez was so injured by his master that he was sent to Celos both for reprogramming and for rehabilitation. He’d been mutilated and nearly died. During his treatment, a nurse asked him what he wanted to do as a free man and he said he wanted something as far away from people as he could get. As a Celosian loneliest thing she could think of was away from family and friends, hauling cargo through the Nothing, a blank part of space near the galaxy arm. He liked the idea of the solitude, so he asked for navigation ports to be placed in his brainstem. He then spent several revs as navigation crew on various cargo ships until he’d saved enough money to get his captain’s port and buy his own ship, The Freedom’s Wing. He learned to fight during his time as a nav operator for a small fleet. Hand to hand martial arts were a hobby of one of his shipmates who taught him so that he’d have a sparring partner. The first time Jimenez ported into a ship’s navigation system was the first time he could envision the future. Space was so wide and he was able to go anywhere. He learned to read as an adult via download, however, it’s still not his most proficient skill. As a result, he’s a poetry lover because poems use small words with big meanings and the cadence of the words is calming.


The KlockWerk Kraken cover (1)

The Klockwerk Kraken: Book 1

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When the right space pilot walks into his bar, a desperate bartender uses all his wiles (and tentacles) to talk the man into business and his bed–but the spacer is still enslaved by his past and isn’t sure he can deal with a two-handed lover, much less one with six.

As the supply shipments stop coming, Teo Houdin needs all his tentacles to keep his waystation bar open. Facing a riot by thirsty miners stranded in the backwater of the galaxy, Teo helps a greenie space pilot buy a ship in return for a regular haul of liquor. But he longs for the courage to invite the enigmatic spacer to fill his lonely bed as well.

Still smarting from his newly implanted navigational ports, Jimenez knows owning his own ship will prevent him from ever being bought and sold again. For a former slave, transporting cargo through the emptiness of space sounds like paradise, but after meeting the compassionate and sexy Teo, his heart feels empty, too.

At the edge of the galaxy’s spiral arm, can Teo convince Jimenez that the heart has its own tentacles and theirs should be entwined forever?


AideeNOH8About the Author

Aidee Ladnier began writing fiction at twelve years old but took a hiatus to be a magician’s assistant, ride in hot air balloons, produce independent movies, collect interesting shoes, and amass a secret file with the CIA. A lover of genre fiction, it has been a lifelong dream of Aidee’s to write both romance and erotica with a little science-fiction, fantasy, mystery, or the paranormal thrown in to add a zing.

You can find her on her blog at or on her favorite social media sites:

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December 14th, 2015|Categories: Blog Tour|0 Comments

Blog Tour: Rooftops by John Wiley


Title: Rooftops
Author: John Wiley
Genre: Contemporary, Gay Romance, New Adult
Length: Novel
Publisher: Wayward ink Publishing


Its summer and three friends from Ohio graduate college, ready to start making their way in the real world.

Rhys; the eternal optimist who wants to be an actor and moves to Los Angeles.

Erick; the career man, seeking money and position who moves with him.

And Joey; the aspiring artist, who for the love of his girlfriend, Cheryl, stays behind in Ohio.

While attempting to follow their dreams each must face their share of personal and professional obstacles. Each is tested. Will they lose sight of themselves?

Will old friendships fall apart and new friendships form?

rooftops cover


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THE MOVING truck pulls into a parking lot for an indoor batting cage and moves around to the back of the building. Once the engine is turned off, Rhys and Erick climb out and look at the building.

“Well, this is the place,” says Erick, reading his MapQuest directions.

“It looked nicer online,” says Rhys.

“I told you we shouldn’t have signed a lease before looking at it!”

“I feel like we just had this conversation with your sister.”

“Yeah, but she has a good point. We could have stayed in a hotel while we looked for a place,” says Erick.

“And how would we pay for a hotel? I told my family I wouldn’t become a prostitute.”

“Really? I told mine that I would. My mom said I have too nice of an ass to keep it covered up.”

“It’s true.” Rhys walks to a set of old wooden stairs leading to the roof. “Shall we?”

“Let’s.” Erick pulls an envelope with the keys to the apartment out of his pocket and walks up the stairs.

Rhys grabs his courier bag and follows. Midway up, the stairs begin to wobble. “Think they have an escalator? Or an elevator? Or maybe some of those grooves and wedges like on that American Gladiator wall game? Basically anything safer than these stairs—a term I use very loosely by the way.”

“According to the information they sent us, I would guess this place was built before American Gladiators.” Erick gets to the top of the stairs and looks around. “In fact, I’d guess this place was built before TV was invented.”

Rhys gets to the top of the building and looks around. It has a flat roof with what looks like a second level over half of it. There are three doors to that level, each leading to a different apartment. On the flat half of the roof are some children’s toys, a bistro table, and a picnic table. In front of the middle apartment, pink lawn flamingos lean against the building.

“What one are we?” he asks.

“Umm… two-oh-four,” says Erick, reading the directions.

They walk to the last door and unlock it. They enter the apartment and turn on the lights. Straightaway they are in the kitchen slash living room. To the right are three doors; one to each bedroom and one for the bathroom.

“It does have a second level, right?” asks Rhys.


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About the author

JOHN WILEY is currently a barista that hates coffee, but is really good at making it. When not writing, he likes to expose his cat to as many Christmas movies as possible. Just like his life, his biography is a work in progress.


December 3rd, 2015|Categories: Blog Tour|0 Comments

Blog Tour: Secret of the Manor by Taylin Clavelli


Title: Secret of the Manor
Author: Taylin Clavelli
Genre: Gay romance, mystery, paranormal, adventure
Length: Novel
Publisher: Wayward Ink Publishing


Warren Blake is an accountant at the pinnacle of his career. After accepting a new position he decides to settle in the scenic Cotswold village of Walmsley Hackett.  A village with a colourful history of myth, old wives tales and mystery.

One morning during his train ride into work, Warren notices a small quaint church which he becomes enchanted with. Curiousity compels him to find the church and when he finally does, he discovers an unmarked grave in the corner. Feeling sorry for its occupant, Warren becomes a frequent visitor.

Little does he know that the young man inside the coffin needs a champion and Warren is chosen.

What follows involves a ghostly medieval joust, witchcraft, love, and Warren risking his life.

Secret of the Manor Cover

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The men were relaxed, almost dozing off as they ambled through a small walled field, when Warren noticed something strange. Despite there being plenty of flowers, a few bushes, and a dozen trees, not a single bird flew within the field’s borders. They occupied the flora outside its walls, but not one feathered animal ventured inside. The sensations invading Warren’s subconscious were not of eerie evil emanating from the dark side, however. They were ones of respectful space. It was as if someone had kicked the kids out of the house, turned the volume down, placed a glass of wine in one’s hand, and said, “Enjoy the quiet.”

When Warren looked over to Carl, the man had his eyes shut, serenely enjoying the surroundings. Even the horses seemed to tiptoe through the grass. Only bees pollinated the dandelions, daisies, and other meadow flowers. Warren himself could feel his heartbeat laze as if he’d had enough wine to relax but not enough to be tipsy.

“Why is it so quiet in here?” Warren whispered while looking for other signs of life.

Carl took a deep breath, opened his laughter-lined eyes, and pointed to the raised areas of the field. “Those mounds are believed to be Saxon burials.” He chuckled. “We can’t bring that gelding, Dusty, through here. He tries to lie down before we get to the gate at the other end.” Carl spoke like the scene was as natural as walking around the supermarket. Briefly, Warren imagined Carl around Tesco’s. The man wasn’t fat, but he was by no means thin. He enjoyed the comfort of a belly filled with his favourite foods. He’d hang onto the trolley, grumbling and limping his way around on a leg that had been kicked a few times over the years. Then he’d run his hands through the grey hair of his receding hairline that he covered with his flat cap. Warren smiled to himself before he stopped his musings and continued with his enquiries.

“Why don’t you get the Time Team in to find out for sure?”

Carl turned serious. “No. It’s not good to disturb the bones of the dead. It upsets ’em.”



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3 x Mega Swag Packs (Europe only) – Bullet USB, Keyring hip flask, Memo set, Mints, 3-in-1 Stylus pen keyring

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About the author

Taylin Clavelli lives in the United Kingdom, about 15 miles south of Birmingham, and a short journey from the world famous Cadbury’s Chocolate factory. She’s married with children and loves her family with all her heart.

Her love of books has been a long standing affair, with Taylin liking nothing better than to lose herself in an imaginary world.

Until she met Lily Velden, she never considered trying her hand at writing. However, after talking ideas, Lily encouraged her to put pen to paper—or rather, fingers to keyboard. Since, with a few virtual kicks in the right place, she hasn’t stopped. Her confidence eventually led to her writing an original work for submission.

Her first published work was Boys, Toys, and Carpet Fitters, developed for the Dreamspinner Press Anthology – Don’t Try This At Home.

Now she absolutely adores immersing herself into the characters she creates, and transferring the pictures in her brain to paper, finding it liberating, therapeutic, and wonderful.

Outside of writing, her interests include; martial arts (she’s a 2nd Degree Black Belt in Taekwon-do), horse-riding, all of which facilitates her love of a wide variety of movies. Her action heroes include Jet Li and Tony Jaa—finding the dedication these men have for their art combined with their skill both amazing and a privilege to watch. If pressed, she’ll admit to thinking that the screen entrance of Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow in the Pirates of the Caribbean – Curse of the Black Pearl, and Shadowfax in LOTR, to be the greatest screen entrances ever. Her all-time favorite movies are Star Wars and Lord of the Rings.

The simple things in life that make her day, putting a smile on her face are:

Laughter – especially that of her children.

The smell of lasagna cooking – it makes her mouth salivate.

The dawn chorus – no symphony ever written can beat the waking greetings of the birds.

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November 27th, 2015|Categories: Blog Tour|1 Comment

Blog Tour: Defiant Loyalties by Elizabeth Wilde

defiantloyaltiesAuthor: Elizabeth Wilde

Title: Defiant Loyalties

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: November 23, 2015

Genre: Gay, Romantic Suspense

Pairing: M/M

Length: Novel

Purchase Links:


Book Blurb

All Jack Preston has ever wanted is freedom: from his father’s oppressive political reign, from his mother’s dying memory, from his own guilt in the part he’s played to get George Preston to the top. When an assassination attempt is made on his father’s life, Jack is thrown into a dangerous game of lies and espionage, and as his whole world destabilizes, he finds himself turning to the most unlikely person for help.

Alex—the assassin who started it all; the man whose face haunts Jack’s dreams—becomes his only ally. As they come together to fight a bigger enemy, Jack’s attraction becomes a risk too large to take and too powerful not to. Will falling in love with a dangerous killer play right into his enemy’s hands? Or will Alex risk everything to protect the son of the man he was sent to murder? Loyalties will be tested and sacrifices made, but Jack will learn that some things are truly worth fighting for.


He approaches the thoroughfare in a daze, drugged off the powerful sensation of gravity tugging him home, and the shadowy figure he spots halfway down doesn’t concern him for half a minute or so while he happily indulges himself.

Until suddenly it does.

His steps falter but don’t stop, axis of gravity abruptly shifted, and now Jack’s walking toward the figure instead, in the grip of some terrible, warped sense of inevitability with his heart rate kicking up.

His boots against the ground feel like a march, and he finds he’s angry. Fraught with fear, yeah, but angry nonetheless. Worse, it’s a petty anger, a kind of outrage that’s got him thinking how dare you even though he’s almost positive he brought this one on himself.

The figure stands with his stance wide and easy and his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, casual as anything. He’s wearing All Stars and Jack has to be fucking hallucinating right now, spent too long obsessing over this with no exposure to the outside world to ground him.

The figure tells Jack, “Hey,” thoroughly doing away with that notion.


The Goddamn assassin raises his eyebrows. “It’s a term of greeting.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Jack snaps. “Gotta say, it’s a massive improvement from your first one.”

The guy shrugs a shoulder, mouth quirking up at one corner, and fuck, Jack had somehow forgotten how striking he was. Under the sodium lampposts, standing against the gray-shaded sugar maples, he’s almost otherworldly—or maybe that’s just Jack’s abused brain whirring, fever-pitched imagination running wild with him like a kid let out for the first time on its own.

“Is this it, then?” Jack goes on, still dripping in sarcasm. “Time to say my prayers?”

“Walk with me?”

Jack does an honest-to-God spit-take, levelling a glare. “Walk with you.”

“You can keep repeating what I say if you like.”

Jack does, thanks. “Walk with you?”

“You haven’t gone running to your armed guard for help,” he points out and then, with a quiet weight, “It’s important.”

I’m sorry about this. Jack hears it over and over, a litany always inhabiting him, and this man had stood in his father’s study with a gun, apologizing for a murder he was a split-second away from committing. Two days ago he’d handed Jack a threatening note, flirting with him while he did it.

Jack shakes his head. He wrenches himself away, one, two steps, turning his back on the face that’s been dogging him for a week now because if he doesn’t—


If he doesn’t, Jack’s going to do something like fucking walk with him.

Back still turned, Jack states the very obvious. “You know my name.”

“Lotta people know your name. Your real one, anyway.”

He spins at that. “How did you—”

“This is important,” the man repeats gravely, but there’s still an easiness to his stance, a kind of open appeal. He’s drawing Jack in just like the flirting; good at his job, Jack thinks dizzily.

“Tell me your name, first.”

He doesn’t answer right away, sound of nothing but the trees swaying while he looks up at Jack with his head tipped down—really good at his job, then. There’s a definite reluctance there, but beyond that, Jack really can’t guess what he’s thinking; maybe games of chess in his head, working out moves and countermoves, assessing Jack for danger.


Jack tries it out in his mouth—“Alex”—and finds it suits him whether it’s real or not. “Fine, Alex, let’s walk.”

Alex cocks his head, gesturing to the end of the thoroughfare so Jack supposes they’re heading away from the house and out into the city. A small mercy, at least.

They fall into step, Alex tossing Jack curious little sideways glances but otherwise staying perfectly quiet, until they come out onto the boulevard and under the open night sky, clear except for the spotty clouds moving time-lapse fast in the lower atmosphere.

There, Alex belatedly speaks. “You’ve been drawing attention to yourself.”

“That an art pun?”

Another curious glance and Jack stays looking resolutely forward; he’s really not sure indulging himself or this guy is the right thing to do.

“Maybe. Thanks for the sketch, by the way.”

“Oddly polite for someone who handed me a threat in return.”

“Which you didn’t take seriously.”

“So that is why you’re here, because I googled some asshole judge?”

“Look, Jack—”

Jack immediately bristles. “Why am I drawing attention to myself? What’s so important that you gotta follow me around town and spirit me away into the night like this, after you—after you tried to fucking—”

“I was sent to give you the note,” Alex interrupts, carefully placing every syllable like they’re practiced. “I wasn’t sent tonight.”

Jack turns his head, trying to get some sort of equal footing here. “And what does that mean?”

“I’m trying to help you.”

Author Bio

Elizabeth is a debut author from the north of England. With a long-time passion for writing, at eight years old she attempted to write and illustrated her very own Goosebumps books, as well as an ongoing series of solve-it-yourself mysteries, and several stories about a single lady living her life with an unfortunate perm. One day she hopes that practice will pay off, but until then she’s been recently adopted by two cats and gets by working for the government.








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November 24th, 2015|Categories: Blog Tour|0 Comments

Blog Tour: Will & Patrick Do the Holidays by Leta Blake & Alice Griffiths

Will & Patrick Do the Holidays Banner

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000038_00075]Author: Leta Blake & Alice Griffiths

Title: Will & Patrick Do the Holidays

Series Title and Number: Wake Up Married, Episode 3

Publisher: Leta Blake Books

Release Date: November 23, 2015

Genre: Romantic Comedy M/M Romance

Tags: gay, woke up married, tropes, rom-com, mafia, forced marriage, disabled heroes

Heat Level: 5!!!! Super hot!!

Pairing: M/M

Length: 117 Pages

Book/Buy Links: Goodreads | Amazon | Amazon UK

Book Blurb

Follow Will & Patrick as they do the holidays in this third installment of the romantic-comedy serial, Wake Up Married, by best-selling author Leta Blake and newcomer Alice Griffiths!

A couple’s first holiday season is always a special time. Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s Eve are magical when you’re in love. Too bad Will and Patrick’s marriage is a sham and they’re only faking their affection for each other. Or are they?

Sparks fly in this episode of the Wake Up Married serial. Will the sexual tension between Will and Patrick finally explode in a needy night of passion? Or will they continue to deny their feelings?

Episode 3 of 6 in the Wake Up Married serial.


“Ah, the acrid smell of insulin in the morning.” Patrick’s voice is still gravelly from sleep as he turns on the shower and pulls down his black boxer-briefs revealing his tight ass.

Will looks quickly away and back to the syringe he’s filling by the bathroom sink. “I can never get the last dose to eject from the insulin pens. I always have to pull it out with a needle.”

“After living with you, I have an entire list of ways they can improve insulin pen injectors.”

“I should have my lawyer queue up an appointment for you with the pharmaceutical company.”

“You do that, puddin’-pop, and I’ll be there with a PowerPoint presentation. It’ll consist of four words over and over. ‘Do your damn job.’ If pushed, I might throw in a ‘Don’t make me do it for you’ as a closing argument.”

Will pinches a bit of fat from his abdomen and sticks himself quickly. He’s done this for years, but he never stops hating it. Especially syringes. They’re somehow worse than the insulin pens. “I’ll ask Owen to make that happen.”

Patrick snorts from behind the curtain. Will glances over and heat floods his gut as he notices the shadow outline of Patrick’s morning wood. “Oh, um, let me just—” He hustles to deal with the used needle and ends up dropping the syringe in the sink. The scent of insulin grows stronger. “Why does it smell like Band-Aids?” Will muses as he finally gets rid of the used needle and cleans up the syringe, tossing the now-empty insulin pen.

“It’s the preservative. Meta-cresol,” Patrick says. “Mmm, so clinical. So sexy.”

“And you’re so weird.”

“Nothing like the smell of a hospital to get my motor running.”

Will glances back at Patrick’s shadow behind the shower curtain. He’s still got a half chub flopping around as he washes his hair. Will clears his throat.

“Have you considered an insulin pump?” Patrick asks.

Will tries to drag his mind from Patrick’s erection. “I don’t want one.”


“I don’t like the idea of having something attached to me. All the time. Something I have to rely on to do its job.”

“You trust insulin pens have the right dosage, that the dial works, that they’re—“

“I know, Patrick. But I have the right to my own preferences when it comes to my medical treatment.”

“Fair enough. So what’s the deal with your daddy?” Patrick asks sans segue.

“What are you talking about?” Will packs up his testing kit and uses a black marker he keeps in his murse to make a dot on the back of his left hand. He can’t forget to drop by the pharmacy and pick up his replacement insulin pens.

“Papa Molinaro. What’s the deal with him and the holidays? He wasn’t around for Thanksgiving. Will he be dropping down the chimney on Christmas Eve with a bag full of presents for you and a nice hard dick for your mommy? Or what?”

Will rolls his eyes. “Thanks for that image.”

“You’re welcome.”

“He spends Christmas with his daughters. Or at least he used to. I don’t keep in touch with him.”

“Ah, the half siblings you’ve never met. So, no Christmas phone call from Papa?”

“No.” Will feels the familiar hot, impatient squirm of nastiness in his gut. Conversations about his father usually bring it on.

“No Christmas card stuffed with cash?”

“No card, no text, no Skype, no email.”



“He’s obsessed enough with you to have you followed by mobster spies but he can’t pick up a phone. At best, that’s inefficient.”

“At worst?”

“At worst, Starshine, you have a deeply dysfunctional father/son relationship.”

“Wow. You really are a genius.”

Patrick barks a laugh and then begins to hum the new Madonna song he’s been singing off and on for the last two days.

“That’s still stuck in your head, huh?”


“Better than ‘We Three Kings’ mixed with ‘Scarborough Fair,’” Will mutters. Finished with his morning insulin rituals, he starts the water in the sink to begin his shaving routine. “Tony doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do, and being a reliable member of our family was never something he was good at.”

“When did you last see him?”

“It’s been three years. It can be ten more for all I care.” Will pumps shaving cream into his hand and smears it on his face. “He sweeps in on a whim, wreaks havoc on our lives, and sweeps out again.”

Patrick is quiet behind the curtain and Will glances over to see that he’s rinsing out his hair.

“There’s no pattern, unless you count my mom getting serious with anyone. As soon as my dad gets wind of her being happy with someone else, he has to come to town and wreck it.”

“With his dick.”

Will sighs. “Everything’s about sex for you, isn’t it?”

“Nope. A lot of things. But not everything.” He turns off the water and throws back the curtain. Will averts his eyes quickly, but his hands are already shaking enough that he’s not sure he should be trusted to shave himself. Patrick goes on. “But it’s all about sex between your parents. The Hurting Times churns with scintillating tales of your mom inappropriately hopping on your dad’s pole.”

“Like you know anything about ‘inappropriate’.”

Patrick laughs. “Like I know about that time they banged in the bathroom at some old lady’s funeral. The Hurting Times forum had pages dedicated to that one.”

Will’s ears grow hot.

“And, hey, for the record, even I know a funeral home toilet is a bad place for sex. Public bathrooms are tourist destinations for germs.” He shudders and slings a towel around his hips, thankfully covering his dangling dick. “It’s not sanitary.”

“You are such a jerk.”

“So you tell me.” Patrick grabs a hairbrush and runs it through his wet hair. The dark auburn looks almost brown and glistens brightly in the overhead bathroom lights. “There’s evidence of a genetic component to addiction.” Patrick’s eyes go foggy as he muses, “But is it addiction or abuse? Both probably.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You, mainly. But I’m also talking about them. If The Hurting Times gossip about the two of them is even half true, they are their own kind of addicts. Addicted to each other. Addicted to sex. Addicted to falling in love. Especially your mother. But it’s possible your father uses the intense sexual connection between them as abuse.”

“I…” Will’s fingers clutch at the razor and he drags it against his skin carefully. “I didn’t think you believed in psychology mumbo-jumbo.”

“I don’t believe in spiritual mumbo-jumbo. And, yes, psychology is a lot of bull-honky, but as a neurologist, I can’t deny that thoughts and experiences have physical effects on brain tissue. Dubious and whoo-hoo as most psychological theories seem compared with hard science. What’s your dad’s sign?”


Patrick shrugs and sidles up next to Will at the sink, examining his own face in the mirror.

Will sighs. “Early November. So, what’s that? Scorpio?”

“Ah. And your mother’s a Scorpio too.”

“How do you know? The Hurting Times again?”

“I know because I’ve met her.”

Patrick’s arm slides against his as he reaches for the can of shaving cream. Will moves slightly to the side but Patrick just scoots closer. Will can smell soap on his skin and shampoo in his hair. He wonders what those curls would feel like slick and wet under his fingers.

Patrick rubs on shaving cream and reaches for his razor. His naked chest slides against Will’s bicep.

Will tries to concentrate on shaving, but Patrick’s reflection in the mirror is distracting. His normally pale skin is flushed from the shower and his nipples are pink and peaked. Will clears his throat and scrapes his razor over his face again.

“Addiction,” Patrick muses on. “You didn’t stumble into that on your own. You drink…and your parents screw. That’s how these genes play out. And with both of them being Scorpios…”

Patrick’s arm rubs against him, and Will clicks his tongue against his teeth. Between this touching and Patrick’s speculation about his parents’ sex life, Will can’t tell if he’s going to pop an inconvenient boner or if his balls are going to shrivel up into his body.

“Two Scorpios can burn down a barn from the heat of their mutual orgasms.”

Ball-shriveling wins out. “Okay, well, this conversation has covered everything I never wanted to think about. I’m going to be late to work.”

Patrick studies Will in the mirror.

Will wipes his face clean of cream, decides not to care that he’s got one stripe of shiny skin on an otherwise stubbly face, and, grabbing his murse, leaves the sink to Patrick.

He dresses quickly. He really is going to be late. Not that anyone at Good Works would say anything to him.

“Do you have surgery scheduled?” Will calls out as he slides his wallet into his back pocket and hitches his bag on his shoulder.


“Meet you here tonight?”

“Will there be more Capheus?”

“Yes. And more Lito.”

“It’s a TV date with the hubby, then,” Patrick says, stepping out into the room with his sharp grin in place.

The hubby.

“First person home calls room service,” Patrick adds. “Order stuff we both like. We can share.”


“Oh, and Will? For the record, you’d still be hot even if you wore an insulin pump.”

“Thanks. But I’ll stick with the pens.”

Walking out of the pharmacy twenty minutes later with his new insulin pens, Will wonders what kind of sex Libras and Aries are supposed to have. You already know the answer to that. Hot enough to burn down a barn.

“God, just stop.”

He rubs a hand over his hair and decides to focus on the day ahead. He’ll take it one step at a time. Just like AA has taught him.


Author Bios

Leta Blake


Author of the bestselling book Smoky Mountain Dreams and the fan favorite Training Season, Leta Blake’s educational and professional background is in psychology and finance, respectively. However, her passion has always been for writing. She enjoys crafting romance stories and exploring the psyches of made up people. At home in the Southern U.S., Leta works hard at achieving balance between her day job, her writing, and her family.


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Alice Griffiths


A long-time reader of romance novels, Alice Griffiths finally took the plunge into writing, teaming up with best-selling author Leta Blake for the ‘Woke up Married’ serialized comedy. A lover of tropes, Alice enjoys mining old ideas and putting a fresh, funny spin on them. Formerly working in the newspaper industry, Alice is now an art curator. She lives in Sydney, Australia.


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Tour Schedule

23-Nov 3 Chicks After Dark
23-Nov Inked Rainbow Reads
23-Nov Prism Book Alliance
23-Nov Bike Book Reviews
23-Nov Unrandom Randomness
23-Nov Gay Book Reviews
23-Nov World of Diversity Fiction
23-Nov V’s Reads
23-Nov The Novel Approach
23-Nov Joyfully Jay
24-Nov BookWinked
24-Nov Literary Nymphs Hot List
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November 23rd, 2015|Categories: Blog Tour|0 Comments

Blog Tour: Raider Captured by J.J. Lore



RaiderCaptured_FINALTITLE: Raider Captured

AUTHOR: J. J. Lore

PUBLISHER: Dreamspinner Press

COVER ARTIST: Brooke Albrecht

LENGTH: 90 Pages

RELEASE DATE: November 11, 2015

BLURB: Is love possible between sworn enemies when the universe seems determined to tear them apart?

Sagiv, a genetically modified Atavaq fighter, is captured when his master’s raid on a Domidian ship goes wrong. Daran, a young Domidian science officer, claims the warrior for ransom and as a subject for study. As they spend time together in the close confines of the shipboard cabin, both learn more about the other’s culture, and against all odds, a fragile trust begins to form. But the ship is approaching a frontier outpost, where Daran will be expected to ransom Sagiv—even though it means condemning Sagiv to die for the dishonor of his defeat or suffer in the fighting pits. That’s if bounty hunters don’t find them first. Daran’s risen up the ranks through hard work and always following protocol, but he sees something in Sagiv that might be worth breaking the rules for the first time in his life—maybe even something worth sacrificing everything to keep.


His cheek was pressed to the soft rug on the floor. The material smelled faintly of perfumed wood, and he wrinkled his nose, unhappy something pleasant was intruding on his misery. To be the leader of the finest Creig raiding party one day and reduced to a worthless prisoner the next was a fate he’d never envisioned for himself. Sadness at his lost fellows settled over him in a cold wave, and he closed his eyes tightly until the sensation passed.

A sudden awareness of warm moisture on his body roused him, and he jerked upright as far as his immobilized arms would allow. Was the Domidian urinating on him? With a growl he sought the source of the sensation and was shocked to silence when he saw the young officer trying to apply a wet cloth to the phase wound on his hip.

“What are you doing?”

“Cleaning this up. It might become infected if I don’t.” The pretty boy gave him a measured glance, then concentrated on the rent in his skin. Sagiv took a breath and tried to hitch away but was brought up short by the manacles yet again. The Domidian’s vigorous application of the cleaning cloth hurt, but Sagiv was determined not to react. He might have fallen from his hard-fought stature as a skilled warrior, but at least he wouldn’t flinch like a weakling when someone washed his body.

“It looks as though you endured blade cuts, blunt instrument strikes, and some sort of percussion volley,” the Domidian said in a conversational tone. Sagiv gave him a glare that would have sent one of his minions cowering to the floor. At least it would have worked yesterday, when he still had underlings. Now his brother Creig were dead, wasted in this futile raid made at the whim of an impulsive master or three. His current condition didn’t matter; he was bred and trained to serve and fight, not to think of his fate or wish for any different life. The Domidian, for his part, merely absorbed the scowl with a slight smile. Superior bastard. “I’m going to work on the most severe injuries first. Basic triage. I have several accreditations in first aid and battlefield medical treatment, so don’t worry for your health.”

The young man moved on to the welts that covered his back, and Sagiv endured the ministrations with teeth clenched, both to stop himself from making a pained sound and to prevent the conversation this bare-chinned youth seemed to desire. As the Domidian’s words sank in, he couldn’t help the question that sprang to mind.

“Heal me for the execution?” Sagiv shook his head once. These damned Domidians had such perverse notions. If only he’d been lucky and taken a phase bolt to the forehead yesterday. The young officer stopped touching him, and his skin twitched.


“Death to pirates, that’s the code in the cold reaches of space.”

The Domidian laughed. Sagiv craned his head to observe him. Even though he was brought low by his defeat and loss of his collar, there was no way he was going to be mocked by a spoiled boy.

“I follow a different code. The Domidian code.” The young man moved closer and pressed his fingers around the edge of the throbbing injury on Sagiv’s head.

Sagiv refused to flinch and instead decided to scoff. “Oh, yes, the code whereby you decide everything you do is correct and expect every other race you encounter to bow down before your magnificence.”

The Domidian’s full lips tightened and a spark lit up his eyes. “We cannot be other than what we are.”

“Arrogant whelp.” Sagiv’s stomach dropped when the young man smiled broadly. What was he doing engaging in conversation with the enemy? He was behaving as if they were at a rim world tavern sharing a flagon, far from the concerns of Domid and Atavaq politics. “Why are you treating me?”

He wanted to bite back the words, especially when he saw the intent expression of the other man.

“It is my duty to care for you. I have taken you as hostage proxy, and any ransom paid for your return will be mine.”

“Then you will be sorely disappointed.” Knowing that this boy would be deprived of even a small sum was the only achievement he could muster at this point. A Creig was worth nothing without the recommendation of a pleased master, without victories to bolster his reputation. The Domidian shrugged and pulled out a small case. He flicked it open, and Sagiv couldn’t help but look inside, sure he was going to see implements of torture. Instead, there were bandages and creams. The Domidian was going to help him. Pulling together the last shards of his dignity and rage, Sagiv decided to remain silent. No need to treat the youngster as if they were equals.

“You have a lot of bruising and contusions. Did all of these wounds occur in the altercation yesterday?”

Sagiv stared at the red carpet. Altercation. What a fine word for a muddled mess that had cost him so much. No, the majority of his injuries had been administered by his former masters as they’d assaulted him in the brig after their humiliating capture. No need to reveal that, or anything, to the Domidian. The young man waited a polite interval, then continued to speak as if there was a normal conversation to be had, all while he administered first aid.

“My name is Daran, of the Eridia clan. If you tell me your name, I’ll be able to initiate contact with your people and set up an exchange.” Daran waited for a response, but Sagiv pressed his lips together. He didn’t have a people, only assignments. Creig fighters existed on a different plane than civilian Atavaq, housed in exclusive barracks and given the finest in weapons, nutrition, and training. He jumped at the sensation of a warm ointment being carefully applied to the edges of one of the throbbing welts on his back. The wounds felt ugly, but he hadn’t been able to inspect them. Exactly what he deserved.

“I’m in service as a science specialist. I’m hoping you can teach me more about your kind. I’m very curious about you.”

Teach his enemy about Creig ways? Betray Atavaq? He’d die first. As the Domidian continued his treatment, Sagiv’s stomach boiled with regret and frustration. He slanted his eye toward the officer to detect what he was about and saw the other man frowning. Daran of the Eridia glanced up and hurriedly put a smile on his face.

“Your wounds, though painful I’m sure, are going to heal well now that you are under care. I was merely thinking about something else.”

The urge to ask what was strong. Sagiv wasn’t sure if he was interested in gaining more information about the enemy or genuinely intrigued by his unusual captor. The other man was treating his wounds and speaking to him as if they were partners. Equals. As if Sagiv wasn’t merely a tool to be repaired and sent back into service.


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AuthorBioJ. J. Lore has been interested in the dashing men who roam outer space since she was transfixed by Han Solo piloting the Millennium Falcon a long time ago in a theatre far, far away. Sadly, there is no way for her to join in the fun of intergalactic adventures unless she writes them, so that’s what she does whenever she isn’t taking care of the business of life. If you can’t find her typing madly on her sluggish keyboard, she’s probably poking around in a thrift store searching for the perfect pair of worn jeans or a vintage kachina bolo tie. These days she puts her anthropology degree to work when she whips up dishes from many different cultures, most of which benefit from a liberal dose of sriracha or a smear of green curry paste. Her favorite reading topics are costume history, epidemiology, and permaculture, all of which she’d like to work into a story if she’s suddenly overcome with a brilliant idea someday.

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November 11: Frosty’s Book Corner || Sue Brown

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November 23rd, 2015|Categories: Blog Tour|0 Comments

Blog Tour: Jinxed by Sandrine Gasq-Dion



JinxedFSTITLE: Jinxed

SERIES: The Rock Series #2

AUTHOR: Sandrine Gasq Dion

PUBLISHER: Skull Blaster Publishing

COVER ARTIST: Kellie Dennis

LENGTH: 52,000 words

RELEASE DATE: October 30, 2015

BLURB: Jinx Jett is a rock superstar. As such, the hunky Skull Blasters drummer thoroughly enjoys the many perks of willing groupies, earning him a reputation as the band slut. Making it big and scoring hot women is something Jinx never expected. There’s a little voice in the back of his mind constantly reminding him of how he used to be — shy, overweight and acne prone. One night in a gay bar turns life upside down when Jinx runs into Jayden Dempsey, a kid he’s been fantasizing about since giving him his autograph at a mall. Long-held insecurities keep Jinx from fully committing to anyone, and he may lose Jayden if he can’t put his past behind him.

Jayden Dempsey always wanted out of his life in small-town Alabama. When his parents kicked him out after he told them he was gay, Jayden decided the time was right to move on. He crosses the country to try out for ‘Singers!’, a show that propels unknowns to stardom. In a twist, producers choose him and three others as winners and form a boy band called London Boys.This season, the show brings Jayden and the guys back for the finale. Surprise! The contest’s heavy metal finalist will be singing with Skull Blasters.

Jinx and Jayden’s initial meeting doesn’t go so well, and Jayden’s stunned when the guy he’s crushed on for years turns out to be a total jerk. It doesn’t stop him from falling into Jinx’s arms every time they’re alone, but Jayden didn’t sign on for one nighters. He wants Jinx Jett, baggage and all.

Can a former teen outcast put rejection behind him and embrace the acceptance standing right in front of him? How much will one boy bander put up with from his rock idol before enough is enough? Can they make it work? Or are they jinxed in love?


“Can I get some clothes?”

“I like you in a robe.” Jinx waggled his brows.

I started for the door and Jinx jumped up and grabbed my hand. He pushed me into the wall and gently pinned my hands above my head.

“Jinx …”

I gasped as his thigh insinuated itself between my legs, rubbing my balls.

“Yeah?” his breath caressed my lips.

“I … fuck … stop doing that,” I panted.

“This?” Jinx raised his knee higher and rubbed my dick.

My God, my mouth actually started watering as Jinx leaned in closer to me, letting his tongue trail my bottom lip. I wanted to taste him so fucking bad my whole body hurt. I wanted him. I couldn’t deny it.

“Fuck, you are sexy as sin,” Jinx rumbled against my lips. “Love your lips, your eyes, even your fucking hair turns me on.”

I clenched my eyes shut and tried to stay in control.

“Yeah? Even if I’m a talentless pretty boy?”

Jinx stiffened. He pulled back slowly and searched my eyes.

“I’m sorry I said that.”

“Yeah? Why did you say it? What’s your problem with me being in a boy band?”

Jinx sighed and let my hands go. He rubbed his hands down his face and exhaled slowly. I continued to speak because by that time, my word vomit had begun.

“I don’t even like boy bands, but you know what? This is where I am and fuck it! I’m successful. Do you know I auditioned with one of your band’s songs?” Jinx’s gasp was very audible in the room. His eyes widened. “Yep, that’s right. I sang Manwhore; the song fits you.”

“I deserve that.”

“Are you going to tell me what your problem is?” I placed my hands on my hips, glaring at him.

Excerpt Part Two

“Jayden? What are you doing here?”

“I’m in the show.”

“Oh, are you a finalist? I didn’t see you in the lineup.”

“Nope. I’m last season’s winner.”

“Last season?” Jinx furrowed his brow. “I missed last season.”

Evander and the guys came back, trailed by Sebastian, Jericho, and one of the other finalists whose name I couldn’t remember no matter how many times I was reminded. Jericho winked at me and I smiled.

“Well!” Sebastian’s voice boomed over the empty stage. “I see you guys are all getting to know one another. This is Jericho, our first heavy metal finalist, and this is Scott,” Sebastian motioned to the other guy. “He’s more of an alternative kind of guy. Gareth, where are the rest of your guys?”

“Right behind us,” Gareth answered.

“Oooh, I sense some chemistry over there,” Scott crooned. “Heavy metal is joining the boy band? I didn’t know you liked them so … pretty, Jinx.”

“Wait, what?” Jinx spun around.

“Oh yeah,” Scott continued maliciously. “Jayden and his merry band of mates make up London Boys.”

Jinx spun back to me, a look of absolute horror on his face. “You’re in a boy band?” he almost whispered.

“Guilty.” I held up my hands.

“You like ’em, huh, Jinx?” Scott leered.

I wanted to slap Scott in the face. No wonder I couldn’t remember his name — it wasn’t worth remembering. Jinx backed away from me and I took a step forward.

“Don’t.” Jinx lowered his voice so that I only I could hear him. “I can’t believe you’re in a fucking boy band! You guys barely sing, you just go na-na-na-naaaa, and you don’t even play instruments!”

I recoiled as if I’d been the one slapped. Jinx was staring at me as if I were a serial killer. The anger boiled up and I lashed out.

“Fuck you, Jinx!” I stomped offstage, Evander hot on my heels.



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AuthorPicBest-selling author, Sandrine (Sandy) was born in Inglewood, California. Raised by “Old School” French parents, she later moved to Tucson, AZ. It was there that writing became a hobby. Always told she had a great imagination, Sandy wrote short stories for her friends in High School. In college, she took more writing classes while working on her Criminal Justice degree, but it wasn’t until a soap opera caught her eye that she got involved in male on male romances. On the advice of a friend, Sandy dipped her toes into the world of M/M Romance. Sandy takes the writing seriously and has had countless conversations with gay men as well as hours of research. She’s been involved with the military in one way or another for over twenty years, and has a great deal of respect for our men in uniform. She’s traveled the world, but has finally returned to Arizona.

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November 2: Bike Book Reviews || Hearts on Fire

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November 4: Carly’s Book Reviews

November 5: Cia’s Stories || Jackie’s Book Reviews

November 6: Wicked Faeries Tales And Reviews

November 9: Drops of Ink

November 10: TTC Books and More || Eyes on Books

November 11: The Novel Approach || Nautical Star Books

November 12: MM Good Book Reviews

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November 16: Jessie G Books

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November 19: Rainbow Gold Reviews

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November 23: RJ Scott

November 24: Sue Brown || My Fiction Nook

November 25: Daydream Believer Book

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November 27: Foxylutely Books || Lustful Literature

November 30: Multitasking Mommas Book Reviews

December 1: Man2ManTastic

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December 3: Louise Lyons || LeAnn’s Book Reviews

December 4: A Celebration of Books || Elisa – My reviews and Ramblings

November 20th, 2015|Categories: Blog Tour|1 Comment

Blog Tour: Awkward in Love by Lily Adile Lamb


AwkwardinLoveFSTitle: Awkward in Love

Author: Lily Adile Lamb

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Length: 118 pages

Release Date: October 8, 2015

Blurb: Ilhan started off on the wrong foot with John, and somehow he always seemed to stay there. When the college student hastily looked away from the apartment building’s hunky maintenance man, John thought he was stuck up. When he tried to get John to knock on his door by leaving his trash out for pickup, John though he was a messy tenant. All he wants to do is get John’s attention, but he always seems to do it wrong…

John’s always seeing the little Turkish twink strutting around like a little peacock, in his too-tight clothes, but it’s hard to ignore that perfect little ass, no matter how bad his manners are. He’s nice to the other tenants, John knows, so he must be cold to John because of his job as a “mere maintenance man.” Too bad, because John would love to see what’s under those clothes.

Yet when one of Ilhan’s more embarrassing moments brings them together, each realizes they’ve been mistaken about the other, and also, so right. And all the awkwardness between them is washed away…

But when Ilhan’s conservative Turkish parents come to Perth to visit, and find their son locked in an embrace with another man, the stress of their demands could tear the two lovers apart…


When Ilhan opened the door, John almost gasped at the vision who opened the door. Ilhan was wearing tight, black pants with a well ironed black shirt. He’d rolled his sleeves up stylishly, and wore subtle eye makeup. The eye pencil he’d used only enhanced how vivid his blue eyes were. He was pretty sure Ilhan also used mascara, which made his eyelashes appear longer. He had a natural beauty, and full lips. They looked as if he’d been kissed, thanks to some lip gloss Ilhan used. As soon as he realized he was gawking at the handsome man, he coughed in embarrassment.

“Sorry for staring at you but you look incredible…sexy.”

Ilhan blushed and gave a hesitant smile. “So do you,” he responded with a hungry gaze.

John reached for Ilhan’s collar to pull him toward him. As Ilhan’s breath hitched, John gave him a quick kiss and asked, “You ready to leave?”

“Yes,” he answered as he gazed on John’s lips.

They drove in silence to Freemantle in John’s Ford Mondeo. As they came close to the restaurant, John turned and watched Ilhan’s face. When he saw him looking around with curious eyes, he smiled and reached out for his small hand to rest it on his leg. John drove holding Ilhan’s hand and feeling possessive of the owner of that hand.

“Like it?” John asked in a way that made Ilhan turn and look at him as they entered the stylish restaurant. It looked a little like a Rajah’s palace. Whatever John showed on his face seemed to make the Ilhan smile and nod his head in a way that made John feel reassured.

He smiled and put his hand on Ilhan’s back to guide him inside.

“I love it. Thank you for bringing me here,” Ilhan leaned forward and murmured, when they were seated.

“My pleasure,” John drawled as he rubbed Ilhan’s ankle with his foot discreetly. When Ilhan startled and bit his lower lip, John grinned. “What? You look unforgettable,” John purred. Before Ilhan could reply, a cheerful waiter interrupted them to ask what they’d like to drink before ordering.

Throughout the evening, John flirted and teased Ilhan, making sure he knew John’s intentions. John scooped the fragrant butter chicken’s creamy sauce onto a piece of tandoori roti bread and offered it seductively to his lover to be. He even sensuously licked his ice cream with laughing eyes.

“Oh. My. God,” Ilhan leaned forward and whispered with red cheeks. “I don’t think I can stand up, John!”

“Why, Ilhan? What’s happening? Is something wrong?” He looked at him with total innocence in his eyes.

“What? Are you kidding me? It’s you that’s happening right now, you tease! I have a raging boner and I’m wearing all tight clothes. The minute I stand up, everyone would know what’s happening here.”

Ilhan shifted closer to the table. “You’re mean… Yeah. A merciless meany. Now how am I going to stand up without giving that old couple in the corner a stroke? Hm? Hm?” He did his best to look cross but his sparkling eyes and lips struggled not to smile, showing how much fun he was having.

“That’s a lie. Take that back. I deny everything. You can’t prove anything. I refuse to accept I’m the cause of your discomfort.” John seductively rubbed his ankle against Ilhan’s leg again.

“Aii. I’m never going to leave this table now. But I’m okay, it’s obvious you want to spend the night here rubbing my ankle instead of doing other things at home… I understand that.” Ilhan patted John’s hand and grinned.

“Hmm. I see my error now,” he drawled and withdrew his foot. “You’d better be ready to stand up by the time I come back.” John stood and winked at the man who was stuck sitting at the table as he went to the gents. When he paid for the meal and returned to the table, he stood in front of Ilhan. “Ready?” he asked with his head tilted.

“Oh. Yes. I’m ready,” he quipped, knowing he sounded cheesy.

“So am I. Come on. Let’s go. Everything’s ready and your chauffeur’s ready to take you home, Mr Avci.” John leered at Ilhan.

“The words sound innocent but somehow I doubt you mean that,” Ilhan blushed, speaking softly.

“Invite me to your home and see,” John leaned toward Ilhan and rumbled in his deep voice.

Ilhan turned beetroot-red as he left the restaurant with John’s hand guiding him gently.

As soon as they got in the car, John grabbed Ilhan by his collar and brought his lips against his. “Open your mouth,” he growled.

Ilhan whimpered and opened his lips. John’s tongue was already prodding inside.

Ilhan mumbled against John’s mouth. “This isn’t as romantic or as comfortable as it looks on TV, eh. The console’s biting into me.”

“No, but I’m still having fun,” John mumbled, making sure he held Ilhan’s face so he didn’t back off.

“That’s because it’s me who’s trying to lean over you while you’re lying on your back thinking of…probably England?” Ilhan mumbled playfully, just holding back his piggy snort. He knew John had moved forward to help him, which warmed his heart, but he still wanted to play too. He enjoyed his time with John immensely.

“My God. Are you one of those talking bed partners? Fuck. Shut up and kiss me properly.” John growled, taking charge of the kiss before they drove back to Perth.

When they arrived back at the flat, Ilhan opened his front door, and turned to invite John in dramatically. “Come in, at your own peril. Mwahaha.”

“You, silly goose.” John grinned and grabbed him, pulling him into his arms and kicking the door closed. “I love kissing you,” he mumbled.

“Good cos I love you kissing me,” Ilhan whispered. They awkwardly walked to the sofa as they kissed. Ilhan mumbled against John’s lips, “This feels like you’re about to have your wicked ways with me.”

John could’ve rolled his eyes, but they were closed and he responded against Ilhan’s mouth, “No. It feels like I’m trying to kiss you while you prattle on.”

Ilhan answered back tartly, but ended up squeaking as John glided his hands to Ilhan’s pants. “I’m shocked! I don’t prattle on… Eeekk! Where are your hands going?”

“What? Oh! That hand. It’s trying to get in your pants to feel your bubble butt, but, fuck! Your pants are so tight, I think the blood supply to my fingers is cut off right now,” John said, and earned a piggy snort from Ilhan.

Ilhan’s shy responses were an indication of how inexperienced he was and it reminded John to be gentler. Humor and play were the best icebreaker at that moment.

Ilhan tsked playfully. “You sound like a quitter. Us Turks would never quit so easily. We’d fight till the end to win a battle. Aii! That hurt!”

“Shut up. You deserve that for your cheekiness.” John gave another playful spank to Ilhan’s bum.

Bonus Excerpt

“Hey, at least I’ve stopped trying to create rubbish so I could see you!” Ilhan quipped after sticking his tongue out at John, whose lips twitched as if he was trying hard to maintain his serious expression.

“That’s true, but now you ask me to check your water taps. Somehow all I do is kiss you, and taste desserts you’ve experimented with.”

“True…true. Water taps seemed like a legitimate excuse to lure you into my den at the time, though… Mwahaha. However, I do need your help with this new recipe. Come on, admit it. You liked my version of baklava the other night. I believe you’ll like this surprise even more.” Ilhan smiled faintly, rubbing his forefinger against John’s abdomen.

John groaned. “Who wouldn’t? They were filled with pistachios and honey. Actually, I think I saw a little crumb on your lips…here…let me get that…” John started kissing and licking.

“No. My lips are clean! You cleaned them the other night, remember? You keep cleaning my lips. I think they’re shining from your intense clean-up work.” Ilhan giggled, allowing his body to be pulled against John.

“You’re a very clean man,” John whispered against his neck.

 Ilhan giggled again, despite his growing hard-on.

“You know, we don’t have to stay in the kitchen, right? I do have a sofa in the lounge.” Ilhan sounded breathless as he absorbed John’s hardening contours on his back.




AuthorPicLily Adile works as a nurse by day and writes GLBT Romance by night. Lily’s focus in her GLBT stories are mere mortals because she believes that love is universal. Her mortal heroes and heroines are not rich, famous or incredibly handsome males with six pack bodies or stunning women… rather they are just everyday people who work hard and deal with whatever that life throws at them.

Lily believes that an individual’s gender identity and expression is influenced by many factors including but not limited to culture, religion, social restrictions, custom and beliefs…this makes one’s gender very diverse and fluid.

Lily is actively involved with Marriage Equality and stands by the same sex couples who want to have children.

Lily especially thanks her husband with all her heart for his endless patience, love and support. He is the love of her life and apple of her eye….he is the home she goes to at the end of a hard day at work.

Lily Adile was born in Ankara, Turkey and then worked in other countries. She visits her family in Turkey regularly and travels to Singapore to visit the other family members.

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November 20th, 2015|Categories: Blog Tour|0 Comments

Blog Tour: Nobody’s Son by Shae Connor 

IMG_1110TITLE: Nobody’s Son

SERIES TITLE AND NUMBER (if applicable): Sons, Book 3

PUBLISHER: Dreamspinner Press

RELEASE DATE: November 16, 2015

GENRE: Contemporary romance

TAGS: African American, coming out, diverse, family

HEAT LEVEL (1 being no sexual content, 5 being erotica): 4

PAIRING: Male/Male

LENGTH: 61,000 words



Dreamspinner Press:

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Who wouldn’t want a nice cup of tall, dark, and gorgeous? Shaun Rogers does. He’s working at the front desk of a clothing-optional gay resort when Conrad “Con” Brooks walks in. The sweet, funny, and smart IT guy is there to install a new network and security system, and sparks fly between the two men from the start. Trouble is, Shaun’s hiding his sexuality from his grandmother, the only family he has left, and that makes him reluctant to take the leap with Con.

Then a man claiming to be Shaun’s absent father shows up out of nowhere, throwing Shaun completely off balance. His life spiraling toward chaos, Shaun soon discovers that his “father” is hiding secrets of his own. When things come to a head between them, it’s Con who comes to Shaun’s rescue—but the incident could force Shaun into a decision he’s not sure he’s ready to make.


Shaun nodded toward Con’s shoulder. “Tell me about the tat?”

Con twisted his head to look down at the design, then looked back toward Shaun and shrugged. “It was the thing to do back then. Bunch of the guys were getting them. Mostly stars and song lyrics and stuff, but some of them tribal designs. I picked out this pattern partly because it was simple, so I figured it’d be easier and wouldn’t take all that long to get. But damn.” He shuddered dramatically. “It hurt like hell. Never had the urge to get another one.”

“I kind of wanted one a few years ago.” Shaun’s gaze wandered back to the design. “I never settled on what to get, though, and the urge faded.”

“I don’t hate it.” Con shrugged again. “But if I had it to do again, I probably wouldn’t. And not just because it hurt, either.”

Shaun gave him a slow smile. “Not into pain, then?”

Con laughed again. “Not that kind of pain, for sure. Whips and chains do not excite me.”

“Oh, honey, you are missing out!” Shaun looked up to find Xavier standing in front of them, a beer in each hand. He shook his hips at them. “A little slap-and-tickle never hurt anyone.”

“Slap and tickle is a far cry from cuffs and flogging,” Con pointed out.

“Eh, six of one….” Xavier winked and handed Shaun a bottle, and as he turned toward Con, Shaun’s gaze caught on the thin raised white line running diagonally across Xavier’s wrist. Shaun looked away quickly, not wanting to get caught staring, but his heart beat faster anyway. He knew what that scar represented.

Xavier walked away, oblivious to Shaun’s discomfiture, and Shaun took a sip of his beer, though he didn’t really taste it. Absently, he rubbed two fingers against his own wrist. Con’s soft voice interrupted his thoughts.

“I remember when that happened,” he murmured. Shaun jerked his head up to meet Con’s gaze, and Con nodded toward where Shaun’s fingers still lay against his wrist. “I probably shouldn’t tell you, for a lot of different reasons, but the truth is, his family kicked him out when he told them he was gay. That’s the escape he tried.”

Shaun swallowed, hard. That was his greatest fear, that if he told his gran how he’d been feeling, then he’d lose the only real family he had left.

“I know how he felt.” Con’s voice was voice low and smooth. “It took me a long time to tell my family the truth. Hell, it took me a long time to tell myself the truth. When I was a teenager and first started figuring out that guys did it for me, I told myself it wouldn’t matter. I liked women just fine, so all I needed to do was find one to marry, and the family never had to know about any of it.”

“Yeah,” Shaun found himself saying. “I’m not…. My gran….”

He couldn’t finish the thought, couldn’t force out the words my gran doesn’t know I’m gay, especially not when he couldn’t even use the last two words to describe himself out loud. But Con just nodded, and his voice stayed soft with sympathy.

“Trust me on this one,” Con said. “If you tried something like that, you’d be miserable. You’d spend the rest of your life fighting who you really are, or you’d end up breaking up your not-so-happy marriage because you can’t keep up the lies anymore.”

Something in the way he said that last made Shaun turn his head to look Con in the eye. He saw the truth there.

“I got out before we had kids, at least,” Con admitted. “Deanna got over me and found herself a good man. But I hurt her because I was lying to everybody. Especially to myself.”

He turned back toward the pool, where Xavier and Taylor stood in the water, arms wrapped around each other. “Everybody’s got scars,” Con murmured. “Some are just easier to hide.”


IMG_1111Shae Connor lives in Atlanta, where she’s a lackadaisical government worker for a living and writes sweet-hot romance under the cover of night. She’s been making things up for as long as she can remember, but it took her a long time to figure out that maybe she should try writing them down. She’s conned several companies into publishing her work and adds a new notch on her bedpost each time another story is unleashed onto an unsuspecting universe.

Shae is part Jersey, part Irish, and all Southern, which explains why she never shuts up. When she’s not chained to her laptop, she enjoys cooking, traveling, watching baseball, and reading voraciously. You can find her hanging out on Twitter most any time @shaeconnor, but for the more direct route, you can email her at or visit her website at


GIVEAWAY: One lucky winner will receive a $25 Dreamspinner Press giftcard and ebook copies of Unfortunate Son and Wayward Son, the first two books in the series.

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November 19th, 2015|Categories: Blog Tour|0 Comments