Release Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway:
Street of Dreams by Jenna Galicki

The Road to Rocktoberfest, Book 4

One street touched a thousand lives and sent two boys in opposite directions.

For Reid Mackenzie, Street of Dreams offers hope for a better life and a chance to share his music with the world. For Jake King, it reinforces his life of crime and the ties to a city that empowers him.

They were two boys, growing up side by side in the same neighborhood, but their lives couldn’t be more different. Mac comes from a humble Scottish family and dreams of the stage and the day he has enough money to escape Chicago’s South Side. Jake knows he’ll never leave. The impoverished city, and his notorious father, have a hold on him that won’t let go.

Circumstances force them to carry on their relationship in private, until it explodes in the worst way. With the will of a warrior, Jake vows he’ll do whatever he has to in order for them to be together, no matter how brutal the consequences.

This is a story of courage, kilts, and second chances.

Street of Dreams is the fourth book in the multi-author Road to Rocktoberfest series. Each book can be read as a standalone, but why not stay and enjoy the whole show? If you like scorching tales of hot rock stars and the men who love them, then you’ll adore the untamed musicians of Rocktoberfest!

Universal Link

Goodreads

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Excerpt:

Jake sat with his back against the headboard, smoking cigarette after cigarette, while re-runs of Friends played on the flat screen. He glanced at the time on the cable box for the fourth time, just as a knock sounded on the door. One side of his mouth drew back in a smile while he slowly brought his feet to the floor. He snubbed out his Marlboro in the ashtray on the nightstand and leisurely walked across the room. Another impatient knock on the door made him slow his stride, even though he wanted to run. He counted to three before he turned the knob. “I knew you’d come.”

Mac didn’t reply. He only stood there glaring at Jake with fire behind his eyes.

Jake knew that look so well. It was burning lust, overwrought with passion, and he allowed himself to drink in the man in front of him. How he’d missed that mane of deep red hair and those incredibly soulful eyes. They were bottomless pools of emotion. And they were boring into Jake with madness that seemed incomprehensible. They conveyed equal parts of love and rage.

Jake had always thought a hair separated love and hate, anger and passion, and that both sides of the emotions were interchangeable at times. Mac proved that theory, because seeing how his eyes shifted from hostile to deep longing and back again was like flipping a switch on and off.

Jake watched as Mac’s nostrils flared and his deep breaths blew his long hair off his chest. His hair and his upper body had grown significantly. The tight T-shirt strained across Mac’s broadened chest, and the short sleeves pinched the indent between his deltoids and biceps. Jake’s eyes dropped lower, and his knees almost buckled. Mac had worn the kilt. It wasn’t the same one he wore earlier at the show, which meant Mac had showered and changed, and deliberately worn a kilt at Jake’s request. Warmth, that hadn’t been there in a long time, filled Jake’s chest, and a crooked smile spread across his lips. “You wore the kilt.”

Mac pushed past Jake and marched into the room, tugging at the roots of his hair. He suddenly stopped and swung around, wildly. “I couldn’t stop fucking thinking about you! I can’t believe the way you get in my head!”

Jake’s smile broadened because he knew that passion lurked under all the anger. Mac wouldn’t be here if he didn’t care. There wouldn’t be fire behind his eyes, and his jaw wouldn’t be clenched. Labored breaths wouldn’t be blowing in and out of his lungs, and there wouldn’t be such vehemence behind his words. But Jake never doubted Mac’s feelings for one fucking minute. Not one fucking second. The two of them were bound together by some kind of invisible rope, that may stretch to the limits sometimes, but it would never break. Their lives couldn’t be more different, but their souls were cemented together.

 

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Enter the Giveaway:

To celebrate the release of Street of Dreams, Jenna is giving away a $10 Amazon Gift Card!

Enter the Rafflecopter giveaway for your chance to win!

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About the Author:

Jenna Galicki writes rock star romance in multiple genres, including mf, mmf and mm.  A native New Yorker, she now resides in Southern California. She's a Rottweiler enthusiast and an avid music buff. When she's not hunched over a computer, you can find her front row at a rock concert.    

Follow Jenna, she would love to hear from you

 

Connect with Jenna:
Website: www.jennagalicki.com
FB: http://www.facebook.com/authorjennagalicki
FB Reader Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/Jennasrockstars
Amazon: http://bit.ly/AmazonJennaGalicki
Twitter: https://twitter.com/JennaGalicki
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jennagalicki/

 

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    Cover and Blurb Reveal & Giveaway:
Lover Man by B.D. Roca

Sydney Stories, Book 1

A rock star hiding a vicious crime.

A billionaire’s son fighting for his own identity.

Kemp Lansey and Charles Durant, once stepbrothers. One, now a famous singer. The other, a renowned photographer.

Reunited after eight years, Kemp tells himself that it’s just sex—fierce, damned near bloodletting sex.

Sex and a mutual understanding.

Kemp doesn’t want Charles’ millions.

Charles doesn’t want Kemp’s fame and glory.

Kemp tells himself he can have their new relationship, as long as Charles never finds out Kemp is guarding someone else’s secrets—secrets that drove them apart all those years ago. Secrets that could tear apart the life of someone Kemp loves. Secrets that could end their relationship.

Kemp walked away once. He should walk away again.

All he has to do is hide the truth from Charles.

Because Charles can’t know. Can he?

Goodreads

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Enter the Giveaway:

To celebrate the exciting cover reveal of B.D. Roca's upcoming Lover Man, we are giving away 3 e-copies of Lover Man before it's release!

Enter the Rafflecopter giveaway for your chance to win!

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About the Author:

BD Roca grew up in Brisbane, Australia and still misses the scent of frangipani and living in funky old Queensland houses. When not writing, she enjoys yoga, and the occasional glass of pinot, although not in combination. She can be reached at bdroca.author@gmail.com

Connect with B.D. Roca:
www.bdroca.wordpress.com
twitter.com/bd_roca
instagram.com/bdrocawrites

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Instagram Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway: Imaginary Lover by Morgan Brice

Imaginary Lover by Morgan Brice

Out Now

Beyond the Realm: Remember, Book 8

“There’s no time. Remember your imaginary lover....”

Cory Caldwell woke up by the side of the road with no memory of how he got there. He pieces together who he is but has no idea what happened to him.

Dark visions haunt him—flashes of blood, magic, and a brutal fight. Scorching dreams of a faceless lover offer no clues. His gut warns that something urgent is eluding him, and that time is running out. Worse is the sense of bone-deep grief, as if Cory is missing part of his soul.

Desperate for answers, he hops a bus for Fox Hollow, a town famous for psychics, mediums, and those with supernatural abilities. Then a stranger calls Cory by name and casts a furtive glance around him. “There’s no time,” the man says. “I need your help. Remember...” Can Cory unlock his missing memories and rescue the stranger before it’s too late?

Imaginary Lover is full of dangerous magic, hurt/comfort, brave monster hunters, dark curses, sincere psychics, found family, and forever love.

Imaginary Lover is the eighth book in the multi-author series, Beyond the Realm: Remember. Each book is set in its own world and can be read as a standalone novel. Join eight authors on eight very different, romantic, and magical stories as each one writes their own take on the same concept.

Universal Link

Goodreads

Join us over on Instagram for more of Imaginary Lover!

You can also enter the giveaway on our Instagram post or click here.

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Excerpt:

He woke lying in tall weeds at the edge of a ditch, with no idea who he was. His head throbbed, and he reached a hand to his temple, expecting to find it bloody, but unbroken skin met his touch.

With a groan, he sat up, squinting when the sunlight hurt his eyes. A forest of tall pines created living walls on either side of a rural secondary highway. He looked around, guessing he’d see a wrecked car that might explain how he got there, but there was no vehicle in sight.

He reached for the familiar lump of a wallet in his back pocket. The scuffed brown leather showed wear. It held more cash than any sane person should carry, no credit cards, and a New York driver’s license for “Cory Cox.”

I guess that’s me.

The name didn’t feel quite right, but Cory had no basis for argument. He stared at the picture of a blond man in his early twenties with short hair, a square jaw, and piercing green eyes. Without a mirror nearby, Cory figured he’d have to take the license’s word for what he looked like.

He glanced down at himself and noticed dirt, grass stains, and some dark spots on his jeans. His denim shirt seemed clean enough, and he hoped he looked presentable.

I didn’t get robbed. So why am I here? And...where am I?

No cars had passed, telling Cory that hitchhiking probably wasn’t an option. He didn’t see any houses or buildings in either direction. To his right, in the distance, he saw a sign. Cory started walking.

Tupper Lake: 5 miles

Gauging from the angle of the sun, Cory figured it was late afternoon. He didn’t appear to be injured beyond some scrapes, bruises, sore muscles, and his throbbing head. He wondered if he had acquired those getting dumped by the side of the road or if there’d been a fight.

A glance at his bruised and bloodied knuckles answered that question. A fight, then. Am I a brawler? Somehow, that doesn’t feel quite right.

Cory debated what to do when he reached town. He thought about going to the police, but a deep, visceral warning flared: that was a bad idea.

No police. Why? Am I a criminal? Am I on the run?

This just got worse and worse. Cory started to walk as quickly as his bruised body would allow, glancing over his shoulder every so often, afraid someone might be following him. When he reached Tupper Lake, he was sweaty and winded. Lights glowed as twilight fell, and Cory’s stomach rumbled. He remembered the cash in his wallet and spotted Tupper Lake Inn, a mom-and-pop fifties-style motel on the outskirts of town.

Find shelter. Deal with injuries, get provisions. Make a plan.

The words in his mind sounded like someone else’s voice, ringing with authority. Cory trusted that voice, and he clung to the advice like a life preserver. He ran a hand through his hair, hoping he didn’t look too derelict and walked up to the front desk.

 

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Check out the other book in the

Beyond the Realm: Remember Series

Series Universal Link

Goodreads

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About the Author:

Morgan Brice is the romance pen name of bestselling author Gail Z. Martin. Morgan writes urban fantasy male/male paranormal romance, with plenty of action, adventure and supernatural thrills to go with the happily ever after. Gail writes epic fantasy and urban fantasy, and together with co-author hubby Larry N. Martin, steampunk and comedic horror, all of which have less romance, more explosions. Characters from her Gail books make frequent appearances in secondary roles in her Morgan books, and vice versa.

On the rare occasions Morgan isn’t writing, she’s either reading, cooking, or spoiling two very pampered dogs.

Series include Witchbane, Badlands, Treasure Trail, Kings of the Mountain and Fox Hollow. Watch for more in these series, plus new series coming soon!

Connect with Morgan/Gail:
Facebook Group
Pinterest (for Morgan and Gail)
Twitter: @MorganBriceBook
Newsletter
Follow me on BookBub
Instagram

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Release Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway:
Fakers by Lucy Lennox & May Archer

A Licking Thicket Novel, Book 2

 

Parrish Partridge’s True Facts:

There’s nothing hotter than a tall, gruff, bewildered, tattooed mountain of a man cuddling a sweet, orphaned baby, so you can tell yourself that you’ll resist him...

But that’s a lie.

And when that man asks you to do him a favor and pretend to be his very temporary, very fake fiance to help him get custody of that adorable baby, you can pretend you know better than to say yes…

But that’s a lie, too.

And when you actually get to know your kind, strong, pullet-loving prince of a fiance, and all his crazy, lovable, meddling neighbors, you can tell yourself you’re not really falling for Diesel Church and the town of Licking Thicket…

But that might be the biggest lie of all.

Universal Link

Goodreads

 

 

 Excerpt :

A bloodcurdling wail echoed through the little stairwell, and I froze for a second, then rushed headlong down the steps two at a time, skidding to a halt halfway down the staircase when I found the source of the sound—a wriggling baby in a fuzzy pink sweater who was literally crying herself purple, possibly because the giant, tattooed mountain of a man holding her was growling down at her with a ferocious scowl on his face.  

I gripped my folder tightly and opened my mouth to protest even though the guy was twice my size, when the baby’s cries quieted for half a second and I caught that the man wasn’t growling. He was… singing?

“Something… sunshine. Only sunshine. You make me happy. Something gray? Christ.” He heaved a frustrated sigh. “Marigold, you’ve got to stop now. You’ve made your point. Be reasonable, baby girl.”

Oh. Oh, good gravy. That changed everything.

I caught my breath and stared. The man looked like he’d been torn off the stage at a rock concert, transported to Nowhere, Tennessee, and stuffed into the outfit I once wore to a middle school dance. There was no other explanation for a guy with overlong brown-blond hair, graceful black inked scrolls emerging from the collar of his wrinkled, blue button-down shirt, shiny Dockers that clung to his tree-trunk thighs, and black steel-toed boots to have appeared in this stairwell. I sure as heck hadn’t seen any other guys in this neck of the woods who were so unapologetically themselves.

And if that weren’t enough to pierce my heart, the kidlet in his arms was gorgeous, despite her tears and wiggling. She had a head full of dark curls, way more than should have been possible for a baby her age, which I’d peg at somewhere around nine months—somewhere past the shriveled-potato stage of early infancy but not nearly at the terrifying walking age.

The baby wailed again, and the giant looked genuinely panicked. He held her flat across his outstretched forearms, like he was carrying a box of pizza or helping her learn the backstroke, and he bent his knees in a kind of next-level Oompa Loompa jig in time to his stammered singing. A pink-and-white striped tote bag sat on the floor next to the wall.

“Work with me, Marigold, okay? You’re not hungry, ’cause you just drank ten gallons of formula. You’re not stinky…” He lifted the kid gingerly. “Not stinky,” he confirmed in a deep, raspy voice that did things to me. “Are you having an existential crisis? Is that a thing kids do? Do you need alone time? Are your lips chapped? Do you hate my cologne?”

The baby fussed harder, flailing her tiny feet. The man groaned, and I belatedly noticed one of those pacifier stuffed animal things lying on the floor by the giant’s boot.

I scurried down the stairs and picked it up. “I think she might be looking for this,” I said, holding it aloft. It was a gray-and-white polka-dotted chicken with a green sucker on the end.

The guy shut his eyes and shook his head. “Ah, shit.”

His eyes popped open in shock as he realized what he’d said, and he looked from me to the kid guiltily. “Fuck, forget I said that,” he muttered.

His eyes widened further. “Goddamn it all.”

I snickered. “Maybe quit while you’re ahead?”

 

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Enter the Giveaway:

To celebrate Lucy & May's release, we are giving away 3 eBook sets of Fakers & Liars!

 Enter the Rafflecopter giveaway for your chance to win!

 

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Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/cc0f2a5791/?

 

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About the Authors

 

About Lucy:

 

After enjoying creative writing as a child, Lucy didn’t write her first novel until she was over 40 years old. Her debut novel, Borrowing Blue, was published in the autumn of 2016. Lucy has an English Literature degree from Vanderbilt University, but that doesn’t hold a candle to the years and years of staying up all night reading tantalizing novels on her own. She has three children, plays tennis, and hates folding laundry. While her husband is no shmoopy romance hero, he is very good at math, cooks a mean lasagne, has gorgeous eyes, looks hot in his business clothes, and makes her laugh every single day.

 

Lucy hopes you enjoy sexy heroes as much as she does. Happy reading!

 

Connect with Lucy:
Facebook Page | Lucy's Lair Facebook Group
Twitter | Pinterest | Instagram
Website | Newsletter
Amazon Page | Goodreads | BookBub

 

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About May:

 

May is an M/M author who lives in Boston. She spends her days raising three incredibly sarcastic children, finding inventive ways to drive her husband crazy, planning beach vacations, avoiding the gym, reading M/M romance, and occasionally writing it. She also writes MF romance as Maisy Archer.

 

Connect with May:
Facebook Page | Club May: Facebook Group
Twitter | Instagram
Website | Contact | Newsletter
Amazon Page | Goodreads | BookBub

 

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Release Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway:
Stoker & Bash: The Death Under the Dark Arches by Selina Kray

Stoker & Bash, Book 3

Sing a song of sixpence
A stage full of fright
One two-faced blackbird
Won't last the night

When a phantom presence lures Hieronymus Bash into a deadly game, threatening to kill one of the players at his beloved Gaiety Theater each day until famed actor Horace Beastly returns to the stage, London's premier consulting detective is on the case. The trouble? Horace Beastly is Hiero's alter ego and the true object of this murderous obsession. When the current star of the show is struck down, Hiero has no choice but to risk everything by stealing back the spotlight.

After a golden summer together, DI Tim Stoker would do everything in his power to protect the man he loves from this fanatic and the predatory press. But a specter from his own past proves an unexpected, and perhaps fatal, distraction.

Scheming prima donnas, grudge-fuelled critics, and an axe-wielding theater ghost are all out for blood. Will Hiero and Tim unmask this menace before the final curtain call, or are they past the point of no return?

Universal Link

Goodreads

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Excerpt:

The man who entered might not have been a king, but no noble in Hiero’s acquaintance possessed half his presence or suavity. Hiero immediately recognized a creature of like habits: his manners meticulous, his grooming soigné, his dress haute couture, his bearing leonine. His silver mane had been sculpted into a pompadour that would have turned Napoleon green. The force of his magnetism bulked up his withy frame and gained him a foot in height. Hiero nearly swooned over the blade-sharp edges of his sideburns and the curlicued tips of his moustache. Before him stood a one-man shrine to the Byronic ideal.

                  Hiero despised him on principle. He vowed that this man, this titan of fashion and class, would be kept far, far away from his Kip.

                  “Please forgive my sudden arrival," the Vicomte said. "Events have conspired such that I had no choice but to seek out your counsel and, I hope, your services.”

                  “It is my honor to receive you, monsieur.” Hiero gestured toward a pair of wingback chairs before the hearth. “Please.”

                  The Vicomte inhaled a deep breath. “Are you an amateur de théâtre, Monsieur Bash?”

                  “I enjoy the occasional sortie, yes. The same as any man of culture.”

                  “For me it has always been a grand passion. It began when I, like most young men, played escort to my mother. From there a fire took hold, and I have burned ever since. This led me to purchase the original Théâtre de la Gaîté—”

                  “Ah! On the Boulevard du Crime.” Hiero smiled. “What a pity they demolished it.”

                  “A tragedy of the highest order. And one from which we are still recovering.”

                  “I believe you were among the few to move house?”

                  “Oui, to rue Papin. But we struggled to recapture the magic. And so, two years ago, the cochons I invested with voted to turn managerial duties over to Monsieur Offenbach.”

                  Hiero fought not to let his feathers ruffle on the Vicomte’s behalf. “A similar case to the management shift at our own Gaiety.”

                  “And with this you have divined the very event that brought me across the Channel. The current owner of The Gaiety, Monsieur Gerry Tumnus, hastily assembled a skeleton troupe. Through an acquaintance I discovered that he had a theater without a company, and since I had a company without a theater, a deal was struck. The grand opening of our first double bill, a Don Juan burlesque and the melodrama Abelard and Heloise, was to occur this very evening.”

                  “How delightful,” Hiero said. “But I’m not clear on what role you mean for me to play?”

                  “For a month we have been settling into our new home. The troubles began almost at once. A mislaid prop. A ruined backdrop. One of our crew tripped on a suddenly wet floor and cracked his head. Several rehearsals delayed because furniture was glued to the storage room walls. Nuisances, at first. A period of adjustment to a new stage, I thought. Or perhaps the petty revenge of the few from the original company who had stayed on.”

                  “Or someone who does not care for foreigners.”

                  “Précisément.” Croÿ-Roeulx sighed. “Childish, but not unforeseeable. But then the rumors started among my own actors. A shadow, they claimed, pursuing them through the backstage. Strange gifts. The sensation of being watched, even when they were alone in their dressing rooms.” A slithery sense of dread coiled around Hiero’s spine. “I thought it nonsense, but the incidents kept piling up. Everyone in the company was buzzing, distracted, missing cues, dropping lines. And then today…”

                  Hiero felt his stomach drop. “Today?”

                  “A murder. Our leading man.”

 

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Enter the Giveaway:

To celebrate the release of Stoker & Bash's third mystery, Selina is giving away a full e-set of Stoker & Bash (3 books) and 2 e-copies of Stoker & Bash: The Death Under the Dark Arches

Enter the Rafflecopter giveaway for your chance to win!

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https://getbook.at/StokerBashSeries

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About the Author:

Selina Kray is the nom de plume of an author and English editor. Professionally she has covered all the artsy-fartsy bases, having worked in a bookstore, at a cinema, in children’s television, and in television distribution, up to her latest incarnation as a subtitle editor and grammar nerd (though she may have always been a grammar nerd). A self-proclaimed geek and pop culture junkie who sometimes manages to pry herself away from the review sites and gossip blogs to write fiction of her own, she is a voracious consumer of art with both a capital and lowercase A.
Selina’s aim is to write genre-spanning romances with intricate plots, complex characters, and lots of heart. Whether she has achieved this goal is for you, gentle readers, to decide. At present she is hard at work on future novels at home in Montreal, Quebec, with her wee corgi serving as both foot warmer and in-house critic.

If you’re interested in receiving Selina’s newsletter and being the first to know when new books are released, plus getting sneak peeks at upcoming novels, please sign up at her website: www.selinakray.net

Connect with Selina:
Twitter: @selinakray
Email: selinakray@hotmail.ca
Website: www.selinakray.net
GoodReads: Selina Kray
Facebook: Selina Kray or 23 Berkeley Square fan group

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Release Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway:
Elf Defence by Lisa Henry & Sarah Honey

Adventures in Aguillo, Book 2

Royal envoys Calarian and Benji embark on a quest in the alpine duchy of Tournel. Things go rapidly downhill when the duke plummets to his death from the tower wall. Whoops—that's going to be hard to explain. And it’s not as though they can just grab the nearest human and make him the new duke.

Or can they?

Enter one Lars Melker, a slightly gullible cowherd built entirely of muscles and sunshine, who happily accepts their word when they tell him he’s the duke now.

Soon Calarian and Benji are knee deep in teaching Lars how to fake it until he makes it. They're also dealing with mountain trolls, a monster, a missing cow, and, most shocking of all, a growing realisation that their elves-with-benefits arrangement might be turning into something with feelings.

Add in their mutual attraction to Lars, and suddenly the hills are alive with the sound of emotionally compromised collectivist anarchist elves.

Also, what’s the deal with those leather shorts?

Universal Link

Goodreads

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Excerpt:

For all that Benji had a six-hundred-page manifesto on how to burn society to the ground, he’d never actually been involved in accidentally assassinating a duke of the realm and installing a random one on his throne before. (He did genuinely feel slightly bad about that, if only because some poor oppressed soul was going to have to hose the paving stones down later.)  Did dukes even have thrones? He wasn’t sure. There was probably something about it in the Human Heraldry and Peerage Handbook, if Calarian ever saved up enough to buy it. Until then, Benji supposed, it would be a mystery. Their duke certainly didn’t seem to have a throne. He had a wooden chair that looked exactly the same as any other moderately fancy dining room chair—although Benji admitted that his judgement might have become skewed recently, what with hanging around with actual kings in an actual castle—that sat next to the fireplace in the great hall.

There had been a little bit of consternation when Calarian had announced that Lars was the new Duke of Tournel, but that had been almost an hour ago. Now, after a hastily conducted investiture ceremony, everyone seemed to be coming to terms with their new leadership.

There had been one older member of the court—committee? council? Whatever the table of old men who ruled a duchy was called, anyway—who’d looked at them askance, but Calarian had puffed out his chest, flicked his hair back, and proclaimed that as Royal Advisors, their word was not to be doubted, and just look at Lars, didn’t the very sight of him scream nobility?

Benji personally thought that the sight of Lars screamed Take me to bed and suck my dick, but he suspected that wasn’t something he should share with the frosty-faced chancellor—councillor? courtier?—in front of them. Instead, he nodded along with Calarian as sincerely as he could.

Lars was obviously smarter than Benji had given him credit for, because he plopped himself in the not-throne like he belonged there, gave the councillor a judgemental glare that Benji was frankly jealous of, and put an end to the argument before it even started.

Benji was honestly starting to rethink a lot of his ideas about inciting humans to overthrow their despotic masters because, honestly, these people were about as passionate and exciting as cottage cheese. They didn’t seem like the revolutionary sort at all. Too well-fed and rosy-cheeked. They were obviously too happy and docile to realise how oppressed they were, like the fat dairy cows that Lars was now somehow talking about.

“I just came to see if anyone could help me find Maisy,” he said earnestly. His leather shorts creaked enticingly as he leaned forward in his seat. “I don’t actually know how to solve a dispute between you and your apprentice, Master Baker.” He cast his blue, guileless gaze around the room. “Does anyone have any cow-related problems?”

Benji rolled his eyes and wondered where Calarian’s strategic wisdom was now. He leaned over towards him and lowered his voice. “Listen, if we’re going to overthrow the government, then–”

“What?” Calarian’s eyes widened in alarm. “That’s—that’s not what we’re going to do, Benji!”

“Are you sure?” Benji asked. “Because I feel like that’s the next logical step after putting an incompetent puppet on the throne. Or the dining chair, in this case.”

“No, we’re here to help the duke with his mountain troll problem,” Calarian hissed.

Oh, the mountain troll problem. To be fair, Benji had forgotten about that—but then, he hadn’t actually really cared in the first place. Calarian was weirdly obsessed with quests, which Benji thought was stupid, and honestly, if Calarian’s dick hadn’t been so nice Benji probably would have ditched him weeks ago. Because it was very nice, and it also happened that Calarian knew exactly what to do with it.

Benji raised his eyebrows. “Do you want to go and fuck?”

“Is that all you think about?”

“I also think about overthrowing tyranny,” Benji said. “But it’s about fifty fifty. And I can't overthrow tyranny in an afternoon, but I can throw your legs over my shoulders in five minutes flat, and I'm working with a limited time frame.”

“We’re doing a quest,” Calarian whispered fiercely.

“And we could be doing the dirty alchemist,” Benji said, and waggled his brows.

Benji could tell just by looking at Calarian that he wanted to be annoyed, but he also wanted Benji to fuck him into next week. It was almost endearing, how predictable Calarian was—and maybe that was also partly why Benji hung around him. He counted down in his head as Calarian’s brows pulled together. Three, two…

“Fine,” Calarian grumbled. “We’ll fuck. After we advise the new duke. It’s his first day, after all. He’s not even wearing robes.”

He wasn’t, either. Just those leather shorts and braces over a fitted linen shirt, a combination that could have been much sexier if the shorts had been a few inches shorter, instead of skimming the tops of Lars's ridiculously attractive knees. Whenever he looked at them, Benji thought longingly of razor-sharp shears. Even without short shorts though, Lars was definitely Benji's type. (And no, his type wasn’t anything with a pulse, fuck you very much, Loth.) Benji was attracted to pretty people—it was his elvish nature. He’d grown up surrounded by ethereal beauty, it was only natural that that’s where his interests lay. Speaking of lay, he wondered idly if Lars might be interested in learning the alchemist.

“Stop ogling the duke,” Calarian whispered sharply, a pointy elbow digging into Benji’s ribs.

“He’s technically a cow farmer,” Benji said. “Or something to do with cows, anyway. And I’ll ogle who I want. Besides,” he added, “I’m not the one practically salivating over Mr. Leather Shorts there.”

Calarian glared, but he didn’t disagree. How could he? Benji had a point.

“I mean,” Benji continued, “I’m opposed to leather, of course, because leather is murder, but I’m totally going to make an exception in his case.”

“You’re opposed to leather because leather is murder?” Calarian arched a brow. “But you’re not actually opposed to murder though, are you?”

“I’m complicated and contain multitudes,” Benji agreed.

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Enter the Giveaway:

To celebrate the release of Elf Defence, Lisa & Sarah are giving away a $20 Amazon Gift Card!

Enter the Rafflecopter giveaway for your chance to win!

A Rafflecopter Giveaway

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/cc0f2a5789/?

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Also Head Over to Lisa's Facebook Group on October 24th the Release Party.
Games, Giveaways, and Author's galore!

https://www.facebook.com/groups/LisaHenrysHangout/

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About the Authors:

About Lisa:

Lisa likes to tell stories, mostly with hot guys and happily ever afters.

Lisa lives in tropical North Queensland, Australia. She doesn't know why, because she hates the heat, but she suspects she's too lazy to move. She spends half her time slaving away as a government minion, and the other half plotting her escape.

She attended university at sixteen, not because she was a child prodigy or anything, but because of a mix-up between international school systems early in life. She studied History and English, neither of them very thoroughly.

She shares her house with too many cats, a dog, a green tree frog that swims in the toilet, and as many possums as can break in every night. This is not how she imagined life as a grown-up.

Lisa has been published since 2012, and was a LAMBDA finalist for her quirky, awkward coming-of-age romance Adulting 101, and a Rainbow Awards finalist for 2019’s Anhaga.

To connect with Lisa on social media, you can find her here:

Website
Facebook
Instagram
Goodreads
Bookbub
Twitter

She also has a Facebook group where you’ll be kept in the loop with updates on releases, have a chance to win prizes, and probably see lots of lots of pictures of her dog and cats. You can find it here: Lisa Henry’s Hangout.

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About Sarah:

Sarah lives in Western Australia with her partner, two cats, two dogs and a TARDIS.

A teacher once told her life’s not a joke.

She begs to differ.

Her proudest achievements include having kids who will still be seen with her in public, and knowing all the words to Bohemian Rhapsody.

Elf Defence is her second published novel.

You can connect with Sarah on Facebook, or send her an email at sarahhoneywriting@gmail.com.

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Release Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway: Flirting with Fire by Grace Kilian Delaney

Release Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway:

Flirting with Fire by Grace Kilian Delaney

A Shore Thing Novel, Book 3

A stuntman with a love for fire.

A yoga teacher in search of zen.

A holiday season neither will forget.

Stunt performer and self-declared badass, Tate Astbury returns to his hometown to spend another dreaded Thanksgiving with his dad. But his father forgets and makes other plans, resigning Tate to a quiet and depressing holiday alone unless he can find someplace else to celebrate.

When Tate’s mischievous friend learns about the unfortunate twist, he dares Tate to enter a radio contest to become a fake boyfriend for a desperate caller’s holiday dinner, and Tate never turns down a dare.

Endre Michel is a mess. His yoga business is on the cusp of ruin, and his moms are visiting from out of state for the holiday, intent on meeting his boyfriend, a person Endre invented. Through the contest, he meets Tate, a crude, tattooed older man who plays the role of doting boyfriend so well, Endre suspects and hopes it’s not all for show.

Neither man can deny the unintended connection, and they struggle to overcome the distance between Tate’s put-together Hollywood career and the chaos surrounding Endre’s unsteady future—a situation that intensifies when an unthinkable tragedy uncovers a dark and painful truth.

Will Tate and Endre’s future together perish in flames, or can their love rise from the ashes?

Flirting with Fire is a standalone holiday romance with several cups of angst, questionable jokes, a bird with a wicked sense of humor, a bed with loud, squeaky springs, and an HFN/HEA ending.

Universal Link

Goodreads

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Excerpt:

TATE

Brown leaves crunched as Tate Astbury walked to the granite headstone symbolizing the division of his life into two parts: Before and After. Winter lingered in the air; that clean, cold scent seeped into his bones, bringing back childhood days in New England with family celebrations and weeks that carelessly slipped by into spring then summer.

That was Before. Before the guilt festered. Before he saw two people in the mirror instead of one. Before he took the one person who meant everything to him for granted.

Tate approached the headstone with the name he learned to spell at the same time as his own, the date of birth he shared, and the date of death he didn’t. He plucked off the dried leaves and twigs that had fallen on the plaque and put a single white rose down.

“Never thought I’d make it past thirty, yet here I am, thirty-three years old. All the dumb shit I’ve done since you…since I last saw you, you would think I’d be the one interred.” He should’ve been. They had done everything together. Death shouldn’t have been any different.

Tate squinted, staring across the field of headstones to where a couple stood holding hands in front of a grave.

“It’s gotten easier. Like, some days, I don’t think about you or what happened right away.” Until he looked in the mirror. Then he saw the irreplaceable soul whose face he would never forget, a blessing and a curse. “You’d tell me to quit being so dramatic and get on with my life. But today it’s hard, so cut me some slack, aight?”

A cardinal perched in the tree above him and whistled, its song like someone calling for its dog. And then it shit, missing Tate’s head but landing on his shoe with a splat.

“Fucker.” Tate laughed, figuring he must look like a crazy person out there laughing alone. Well, not entirely alone. There was that bird with a wicked sense of humor.

“I get it. Enough with the pity party. I’m going to celebrate with the boys later. But this one’s for you.” He unscrewed the miniature Jack Daniel’s bottle, not his favorite but his twin brother liked the brand, and poured the entire contents on the grave.

“Happy birthday, Mazi.”

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Enter the Giveaway:

To celebrate the release of Flirting with Fire, Grace is giving away 2 e-copy bundles of Books 1 & 2 in The Shore Thing Series and a $10 Amazon Voucher

A Rafflecopter Giveaway

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/cc0f2a5788/?

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About the Author:

Author, musician, and human slave to the dog and cat that rule her house, Grace Kilian Delaney enjoys giving her characters a dark sense of humor and a happily ever after.

Connect with Grace:
Twitter: @GracekilianD
Instagram: GraceKilianD
Facebook Group: Delaney’s Dearies
Goodreads
BookBub
Newsletter

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