Thursday, June 22, 2017
Posted by: Riley Hart
Shane Wallace has made a decent life for himself in Last Chance. He built his own home on his mom’s property to take care of her, owns an automotive repair shop, and when he wants to get laid, Portland isn’t too far away. Not too shabby for the boy who spent his childhood getting bullied and feeling alone. Shane’s content to leave his past behind him...until one of his childhood tormentors comes back to town.
Maxwell Sullivan never planned to step foot in Last Chance again. Here, he was Maxwell, a teen who suffered in silence while everyone thought he had the perfect life. Now, he’s “Van,” the erotic artist and photographer. He’s only here to help his mom tie up some loose ends after his father’s death and to apologize to Shane. After that, he’s heading back to LA for good.
Shane never thought he’d have anything in common with Maxwell, but there’s a depth to Van that surprises him. Van knows what it feels like to be alone. He sees Shane in ways no one else does. There’s a shared connection neither can deny. Somehow, despite their rocky history, they get each other.
It’s not long before the two are so drawn to each other that they tumble into bed—sometimes with Van’s camera involved. Their chemistry in and out of the bedroom is undeniable. Except nothing is ever black and white. Shane can’t leave his mom and Van’s life is in LA. With two different lives pulling them in opposite directions, their picture-perfect ending might not be in the cards.
Release Date July 13, 2017
Cover Image: Kevin Hoover Photography
Cover Design: X-Potion Designs
Add to Goodreads HERE
Tuesday, June 20, 2017
Posted by: Julia
Today we all have new or upcoming releases to pimp!
Here's excerpt and all!
From Sean Michael
Dancer Seth Avery has it all. He’s at the top of his game as a dancer and he’s n love with famous dance director Fayden DelMonaco, the man who is his sub. Seth’s whole world is turned upside down when Fayden dumps him in the nastiest and most public way possible. To compound matters, he’s in near fatal car crash shortly thereafter that leaves him severely injured.
Brook Turner is an ex-lawyer turned micro-brewer, baby-brother of Seth’s best friend Lizzie. The two met briefly before Seth’s accident, but it’s when they meet again six years later that they get a chance to act on the attraction they’d initially felt.
With Brook’s help, Seth begins to heal not only from his residual physical injuries, but also from the emotional ones inflicted by Fayden. Will it be enough to keep the two of them together?
Join Seth and Brooke as they find a new way to dance together.
Coming this week: http://www.evilplotbunny.com/index.php/new-way-dance-mm/
His cane tapped the floor, following the beat of the music that poured from the Bose. He liked the rhythm, like the way the syncopation worked. Seth grabbed his phone, made a note on the title of the song. His Intro to Music Theory class would enjoy that.
“Would you like another coffee, Dr. Avery?”
He chuckled, still getting used to his new title. “Yeah, a no-fat latte, please, thanks, Matt.”
“You want something to nibble on with it?”
“No. No, thank you.” Seth had to work hard to keep himself from getting soft. “Just the coffee.”
Little Matt was a darling, charming, sweet, eager to please. The man would make someone a wonderful sub.
A shadow fell across his table. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”
He looked up to find a handsome man with warm grey eyes and a half smile gazing at him.
“I don’t think so.” He did remember Lizzie’s baby brother, but Seth knew how different he looked, how different he was.
“No? Well do you mind if I sit with you anyway? You’ve got this whole table to yourself.” Brook waved his free hand around, and sure enough, it looked like the place was packed.
“Absolutely. Have a seat.” He shifted his cane out of the way, made sure his laptop wasn’t taking too much of the table. He couldn’t believe that Brook was here in Ottawa, standing here as if it were normal.
“Thanks.” Brook sat, still looking at him, and he saw it the moment Brook recognized him. “You’re Lizzie’s dancer friend. The one who had the accident.” Brook frowned. “I’m sorry. I heard it was pretty bad.”
“Yes. It was.” The wreck, the cameras, the news. Fayden. Everything had been brutal. “Seth Avery.” He held out his hand.
“Brook Turner.” Brook shook, hand firm. “When did you make the move up to Ottawa?”
“Five years ago. I needed a break.”
Brook nodded. “Yeah, it was… yeah. I can’t imagine.”
He offered Brook a smile, but what was he going to say, really? He had scars, there had been twenty-six surgeries over two years, his life had changed.
Coming soon to Dreamspinner Press
Re-releasing soon at Dreamspinner Press
Blurb: A vengeful god’s curse took everything from the Egyptian pharaoh Seti: his name, his position, and even his lover. After many long centuries relegated to a musty sarcophagus, he’s awakened when a graduate student working in the museum where he is stored stumbles upon him.
Logan, working as a curator to fund his education, figures he’s screwed when he accidentally awakens the ancient ruler. It’ll be career suicide to claim the mummy came back to life, but it’s either that or be labeled a thief. Little does he know, those are the least of his problems. A society of archaeologists is hot on their trail, determined to uncover the secret of Seti’s immortality, and then there’s the little matter of an angry god who doesn’t appreciate Logan meddling in his work. But the biggest problem might be Seti himself, who’ll stop at nothing to get into Logan’s pants—and his heart.
5,000 years ago
Nile Valley, Egypt
Camp of the Children of Setekh
Blowing in fiercely across the dunes, the storm whipped the sand into a maelstrom of biting particles that could flay flesh from bone. Within moments it could fill a man’s lungs with sand, drowning him with the blood of the desert. In the animal skin tents of Seti’s tribe, his people cowered and quailed before the power of the sandstorm.
Seti alone stood against the onslaught, feet braced apart, chin held high. In the face of the storm’s fury, he was immoveable, as solid and unyielding as stone. Bare-chested, his only garment was a short linen loincloth. He stood with his head thrown back, his warrior braids whipping about his head, long beaded black scourges that flailed his face and sun-bronzed shoulders. Arms spread wide, he welcomed the wind, embracing its stinging wrath as one would embrace a son.
In a way, the tempest was Seti’s child—he had nothing to fear from it. He had created it. It was he who had called the demon from its lair and unleashed it upon the land. The storm was Seti’s shield, keeping him and his people hidden from the eyes of his enemy. It was also his fist, his spear, and he wielded it without mercy, striking down all who dared defy him.
This time Seti’s enemies had gone too far. Bidden by their god, they had stolen Seti’s heart from him, had ripped it away and fed it, still beating and warm, to the jackals.
For that crime they would pay with their lives.
Ashai had been more than a lover, more than another pretty face in Seti’s harem. He had been Seti’s favorite, the only one capable of easing the tension from Seti’s body and the worry from his mind with a single caress. Ashai’s unusual light-colored eyes, the color of an oasis, had twinkled with good humor even on the darkest of days. His smile and his arms had always been warm and inviting.
Seti had loved him above all others. For Ashai, Seti would have moved mountains, drained oceans. It was for Ashai that Seti had led his people across the dunes, seeking greener lands. Ashai had wished to settle, to build, to see their people grow fat and happy along the rich, fertile banks of the Nile. He grew weary of their nomadic life. In addition to wanting to grant Ashai his wish, Seti had found the land along the great river to be rich in resources that would assure his camp’s growth.
Each year it flooded, the waters nursing the earth. When the waters receded, the land was left ripe for planting. The wealth reaped from the river’s bounty would assure Seti of a vast kingdom. He had led their people to this place, near where the wind rippled the waters of the great river.
But Seti’s people were not the only ones to covet the fertile land. There were others, but they were of no more importance to Seti than the gnats that worried his beasts of burden. He had marched through their camps, leaving behind little but footprints in the sand. The dead were discarded, the living assimilated into Seti’s camp. His numbers swelled.
But that night, when darkness had settled over Seti’s camp like a thick, suffocating shawl, as Seti had sat with his advisors and readying for war, his enemies had stolen in and taken Ashai from him. Almost before Seti knew he was gone, Ashai’s head had been returned to him minus his beautiful green eyes, the name of the god Setekh carved into his forehead.
The warning had been clear: Seti should seek to please no one but the gods; the land of the Nile was not to be his.
A king of his people, Seti was a warrior to be reckoned with, but more, he was a sorcerer. In his veins flowed an ancient magic, gifted to his bloodline in the time before time, before the gods had wiped the dust of the earth from their feet. A gift bestowed upon Seti’s family by the very god for whom he was named, as was his father and his father’s father before him, back through the mists of time.
Setekh, the god to whom Seti owed his powers, was the same god who had demanded Ashai’s blood as payment for Seti’s disobedience.
The wind carried Seti’s oath across the sand.
“Setekh! You miserable Jackal! Whore of Horus! May your genitals shrivel and be eaten by the swine who worship you!” he bellowed, his voice barely audible above the fury of the storm. “I curse the day my ancestors first uttered your foul name! I denounce you! From this day forward I will seek out those who bow down before you and trample them beneath my sandals until at last there are none left! Until your existence is less than a memory, forgotten by the world! I swear this, upon my very soul!”
Screams rose from over the hill as the storm found Seti’s enemies, the windborne sand flaying them, burying them alive. After a very long while, the terrible din ceased, the howl of the wind the only sound remaining.
The wind grew fiercer, particles of sand whipping Seti’s flesh like a cat-o’-nine, biting deep. Then suddenly, all stilled. Sand, airborne a heartbeat ago, fell in a cloudy curtain to the ground, the wind dying to less than a whisper. Before Seti, the warm air seemed to shimmer, becoming alive, taking solid form as a giant rose up before him.
Eyes as dark as the deepest pits of the underworld glared at Seti from within a face so gruesome that it could make the strongest man cower in fear. Long reptilian jaws were filled with daggerlike teeth. Eyes that glowed with an otherworldly power gleamed. Below his neck, a strong and perfect body towered against the buff desert dunes.
An arm slowly rose up, pointing a long, graceful finger at Seti. “Arrogant dog! You dare threaten me and mine?” Setekh thundered, his voice reverberating deeply in Seti’s bones, chilling him to his very core. “Death is too easy a penance for you. It is you who will be forgotten! Hungry, thirsty, lonely, you will live a half-life, doomed to suffer five thousand years of agony! Never will your ka rest in the afterlife! So is the curse your insolence has brought down upon your head!”
From within the tents of Seti his people rose up, commanded by a god they had worshiped all their lives. They surrounded Seti, bore him up and carried him into the tents, where soon the only sounds that pierced the silence of the night were his screams.
From BA Tortuga
What the Cat Dragged In
A Sanctuary Novel
Don’t people know that cats and dogs don’t mix?
Connor Ragbone finds things. Sometimes it’s gold, sometimes jewels, sometimes people. Set in his hippie ways, he never thought he’d find a pack, but with Sam and Gus and their goofy shifter family, he fits right in. Then he finds Brock.
Shifter Brock Herman is undercover alone, working to break up a poaching ring. The last thing he needs is for Connor to wreck his sting. And now the crazy bobcat just won’t go away!
The poachers lead Brock and Connor on a merry chase all over Western Colorado looking for shifter bears, but it’s a lost pup who brings them back to Nevada and the pack Sam and Gus are building. That’s when Brock has to decide whether he still travels alone or if Connor and his crazy family are where his heart belongs.
This follow-up to Just Like Cats and Dogs is a feel-good shifter romance novel where cats and dogs prove they can be way more than the enemies nature has made them.
It was amazing how much a couple days of sleep, food, and daily showers helped Jason look less insane and more just eccentric. His torn-out hair still looked as if he had mange, maybe, but his face had already filled in some, and his eyes had lost their haunted expression. He smiled a lot, so Connor thought maybe Jason felt right at home.
Gray barked happily and herded a pair of the youngest puppies back into play. It fucking blew Connor’s mind how Gray could do it, even without being able to see a thing. The guy was like the best dad ever. Seriously.
Someone gnawed on his ankle, and Connor hooted, lifting the pup and twirling.
“Uncle Connor! Me next! Me too!”
“Everyone gets a hug. I swear!”
Lord have mercy. He would dance with every single kid if that was what it took. He thought maybe he ought to lead them around like the Pied Piper for a bit, wear them out.
A huge black panther landed in the middle of the cubs, roaring loud enough that the trees trembled. Everything stopped for a second, and then the puppies pounced, totally unafraid of the big cat.
Sam. Connor had to shift. Had to. His bobcat came right out, his clothes falling away. Boom. Paws.
He waded in, batting happily, yowling as someone started chewing on his tail. When he looked, it was Gray. Oh, no fair.
Connor rolled over and over, spinning a few cubs and Gray, landing with a thud against Sam.
Sam gave a comical kitty shout, paws batting with no claws in play. He joined in, forming a happy feline whirlwind, spinning pups with wild abandon.
His friend! His good friend!
Gray barked, and one of the wee ones tipped his nose to the air, howling. So frickin’ cute.
To his utter shock, Jason stood up, not furry a bit, voice joining Gray’s. The pups’ ears swiveled, and then all of the fuzzy ones were howling, just rocking the chorus.
Sam leaned against him, mouth open, panting hard.
All the adult wolves came out, staring in shock with their human eyes, and Connor rolled with hysterical laughter, his paws batting the air. Someone jumped right in the middle of his shit, growling and gnawing, and he realized it was Gus, the biggest Alpha wolf of them all.
He wrapped his paws around Gus, hugging hard, making sure not to scratch. Gus didn’t play too much, according to Sam. Not like he had a few years back. So this was a real honor.
Gus bowled him over, teeth on his throat for a second, and he allowed it, gave the puppy his due. It was no skin off his back. Gus had let him be family, after all. After the gentle shake, Gus pounced his tail once and bounded over to tackle Sam.
Connor rolled up to all four paws and tossed a puppy back into play. Gray shook, then came over to rub muzzles with him.
He shared scent, purring as hard as he could.
Yes. They were family. All of them. The pups flopped down, panting, and the younger human kids started grooming them all.
Connor began to groom Gray, chuffed softly as Marina appeared with a brush in each hand. She smiled at him, rubbing his ear tuft gently with one brush. “Hey, guys. Lunch soon.”
He nudged her knee, smelling chicken and bacon, all the good things.
She sat cross-legged between him and Gray, humming as she ran the brushes over them. That was universal, right? Brushing felt good.
Sam met his eyes from where Sam was holding Gus down and grooming with intent.
It was good to have a home. A place to return to.
And when that place came with lunch, it was even better.
at Dreamspinner! https://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/books/what-the-cat-dragged-in-by-ba-tortuga-8576-b
Lovers of Her Dreams
Author note: Lovers of Her Dreams is a MMF menage that released from Ellora's Cave right before they stopped paying. I never saw a dime from the book. I'm re-releasing it for the first time this week. Check out the hawt new cover by Kris Norris!
Savannah doesn’t want to believe in magic, even when she knows it exists. So even though she keeps having incredibly sexy dreams about two beautiful men, she tries to ignore them. At least until she wakes up one morning with a new tattoo and no way to account for it. She turns to her hot neighbor Tim for help, since he knows a tattoo artist who might be able to explain. Tim and Ryder are more than buddies, though. They’re the lovers who have been invading Savannah’s dreams.
Werewolf Ryder and dream walker Tim have wanted Savannah since she moved in next door. They desire her enough that Tim can’t stay out of her dreams, and Ryder is marking her in their sleep. With their lust out of control, they need to find a way to help bring out Savannah’s magical side, and draw her into their loving circle without driving her away.
“Shh. Shh, baby. Trust us. We got you.” His hands were warm, leaving her breasts, sliding down to her hips, wrapping around her ass as a hot tongue slid up along her slit, dragging on her folds.
Then the tongue slapped her clit, lightning shooting up her spine.
She bucked, pushing up into the touch, desperate to feel it, again and again.
“Oh, damn, honey. Do that again.” She loved the feel of his breath on her shoulder, the brush of his beard stubble on her skin while another mouth slid over her pussy.
“Mmmhmm.” Lips wrapped around her clit, the suction steady, wicked, pulling deep in her belly.
Her arms tensed, her body lifting up, sliding her cunt over his lips.
The pull intensified, and she wanted them—wanted their cocks slamming into her, filling her up. Wanted them inside. A deep growl—less human than animal—sounded behind her and, she would have tensed, but the pressure at her clit increased, the fingers working her cunt pushed harder, faster, driving her higher.
She tossed her head, trying to figure out how to move, how to get them to give her what she wanted.
“You’re ours.” Teeth scraped over her shoulder blade, burning, and it only made her cunt ache more.
“Yes. Anything. Please.”
“She begs so pretty, doesn’t she?”
The answer was a deep, low rumble around her clit. It made her toes curl up so hard her legs threatened to cramp.
“Come for us, Kit.” A fire bloomed on her shoulder, teeth sinking in, scraping her skin, and that pushed her over, her orgasm making her scream.
Savannah’s eyes popped open and she gasped, her fingers still working her clit, prolonging her orgasm. The dream refused to fade, even when the shaking abated.
She was losing her mind. That was the only excuse. She didn’t let boys tie her up, she didn’t beg anyone to lick her down there, and she certainly didn’t have sex with two men. Concurrently or consecutively.
It would be a great way to lose her mind, she supposed, but it was crazy, nonetheless.
Savannah sat up, rolled her shoulders as she tried to decide whether to start coffee or shower first.
Oh, ow. That was tender. What the heck? Was that a spider bite on her shoulder?
She tried to see, but the dawn was just barely there and she-- Her fingers brushed something hot, sore. God.
Savannah slipped out of bed and ran to the bathroom, trying to see. She turned her back to the mirror, frowning at what looked like a bruise. What had she done, hit the headboard? Weird.
It was really dark, tender. A little scary really. She could see Tim’s lights on next door, could see the vet getting ready for his early run before heading to his clinic for surgery. She threw on a robe and pelted out of her room, needing to catch him before he got away.
Lean and blond, fine as frog hair, Tim was heading down the steps in his workout shorts as she caught up to him.
“Hey, darlin’.” His voice was soft, Southern, warm as anything. “What’s wrong? Your Needles okay?”
“Oh, she’s fine.” Savannah pointed at the little King Charles spaniel who was standing at the door, wagging her fool butt off. “I... I think I’ve hurt myself. Can you look?”
“Sure. Sure, let’s go in where there’s light.”
“I’m sorry.” The cats disappeared when he opened the door, the birds in the back squawking hysterically. Big old Duke, though, he came up to her, pushing into her hand.
“Duke, later. Go to your bed. Excuse the mess, honey.” The mess. Right. Tim was meticulous at best. All these animals and the house was just pristine. The Great Dane lumbered off as she dropped the shoulder of her robe.
“Here we go.” He turned on a task lamp she hadn’t even seen and moved it down over her skin. “Well, honey, why didn’t you tell me you had a new tattoo. That’s what’s bugging you.”
“A tattoo?” What? What? “I’ve never! I didn’t. I--”
Oh, God. Her mother was going to have a fit. She could hear Mom’s voice now. “Only trashy types get tattoos, Victoria. Don’t ever defile yourself.”
“Honey, it’s right there. A paw print. Pretty fresh too.”
“A paw—” What the hell? She had a dog, sure, but she’d never been that into animals.
She looked at Tim, more than a little panicked. “Oh, God. What do I do? I didn’t...I’ve never been in a tattoo parlor, Tim. Not ever.”
She was going to cry. Or scream. Possibly throw up. A tattoo. Her.
Available tomorrow on Amazon, Evil Plot Bunny and Nook. I'll come back and post links
Julia’s is http://www.juliatalbot.com
BA’s is http://www.batortuga.com
Kiernan's is www.KiernanKelly.com
Sean -- https://www.facebook.com/SeanMichaelWrites
Julia -- https://www.facebook.com/juliatalbotauthor
BA -- https://www.facebook.com/batortuga
Kiernan -- https://www.facebook.com/kiernan.kelly
Monday, June 19, 2017
Posted by: Cardeno C
And if you haven't read the other Hope novellas. Now's the time!
Sunday, June 18, 2017
Posted by: Christa Tomlinson
It's Father's Day! The day where all the fathers, stepdads, favorite uncles, awesome big brothers and found fathers are honored by the people who love them. For me, it's my dad, James. My childhood bestie and I affectionately nick named him Big James back in high school, because he was tall and had impressive Dad Guns from the hard work he did.
We had a few rough patches when I went through my obnoxious I know everything late-teens phase, but he's always been there for me. He supports me in my writing, whether it's financially, or listening to me drone on about the process of self-publishing. We're a lot alike in many ways. Introverted, short-tempered and stubborn. And we'll do anything we can to help the people we care about. But we're also really different. I love curling up on the couch with a good book for hours. He can't sit still long enough to make it past chapter one.
Whenever I'm home visiting and I whip out a notebook to jot some ideas down, he always shakes his head and says, "I just don't see how you come up with these stories." It cracks me up every time. Of course, once he blew my mind when he added, "I guess it's like a movie playing in your head." Yes! It's so like that!
|My father, back in the early 80's|
Big James is funny (especially when he's acting out something one of us kids did to get in trouble), can fix anything, can build most things and has far more patience than I could ever imagine myself having. He's a great dad and I'm super lucky to have him.
Happy Father's Day to my dad, and all the other people who have played an important fatherly role in someone's life!
Follow me around the internet! Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Goodreads, BookBub
View my titles on Amazon
Saturday, June 17, 2017
Posted by: S.C. Wynne
I hate summer. There I said it. Maybe if I had a pool it would be better. I'm too old to run through the sprinklers without getting funny looks from my neighbors.
But cold weather, I love! There is nothing better to me than a rainy day and a chill in the air. It might be because I grew up in Southern California and it is pretty much all sun all the time. We're lucky if we even get rain. I have sympathy for my friends in New York and the other side of the country where their winters are truly horrendous. I wouldn't want seven feet of snow dumped on me either. Just a little rain, please.
When I was younger I worked closing shifts for a fast food chain and one night I remember going out to my car and having to dig it out from all the snow that had fallen during my shift. It was terrifying driving on the icy roads too. So while I would like some cold weather, I don't want snow so much as some cooling rain.
Of course, maybe I'm jaded today because it's 95 degrees and I'm sweltering at my computer. :)
Friday, June 16, 2017
Posted by: Felice Stevens
A Way with Words by Lane Hayes