Book Tour

Inside the Asylum

Inside the Asylum
A Kathy Ryan Novel #2
by Mary SanGiovanni
Genre: Supernatural Horror
Pub Date: 5/7/19
From “master of cosmic horror” (Library Journal) Mary SanGiovanni, comes the latest terrifying novel featuring occult specialist Kathy Ryan . . .
A mind is a terrible thing to destroy . . .
Kathy has been hired to assess the threat of patient Henry Banks, an inmate at the Connecticut-Newlyn Hospital for the Criminally Insane, the same hospital where her brother is housed. Her employers believe that Henry has the ability to open doors to other dimensions with his mind—making him one of the most dangerous men in modern history. Because unbeknownst to Kathy, her clients are affiliated with certain government organizations that investigate people like Henry—and the potential to weaponize such abilities.
What Kathy comes to understand in interviewing Henry, and in her unavoidable run-ins with her brother, is that Henry can indeed use his mind to create “Tulpas”—worlds, people, and creatures so vivid they come to actual life. But now they want life outside of Henry. And they’ll stop at nothing to complete their emancipation. It’s up to Kathy—with her brother’s help—to stop them, and if possible, to save Henry before the Tulpas take him over—and everything else around him.
Behind the Door
A Kathy Ryan Novel #1
Occult specialist Kathy Ryan returns in this thrilling novel of paranormal horror from Mary SanGiovanni, the author of Chills . . .
Some doors should never be opened . . .
In the rural town of Zarepath, deep in the woods on the border of New Jersey and Pennsylvania, stands the Door. No one knows where it came from, and no one knows where it leads. For generations, folks have come to the Door seeking solace or forgiveness. They deliver a handwritten letter asking for some emotional burden to be lifted, sealed with a mixture of wax and their own blood, and slide it beneath the Door. Three days later, their wish is answered—for better or worse.
Kari is a single mother, grieving over the suicide of her teenage daughter. She made a terrible mistake, asking the powers beyond the Door to erase the memories of her lost child. And when she opened the Door to retrieve her letter, she unleashed every sin, secret, and spirit ever trapped on the other side.
Now, it falls to occultist Kathy Ryan to seal the door before Zarepath
becomes hell on earth . . .
Mary SanGiovanni is the author of the Bram Stoker nominated novel The Hollower, its sequels Found You and The Triumvirate, Thrall, Chaos, Savage Woods, Chills—which introduced occult security consultant Kathy Ryan—as well as the novellas For Emmy, Possessing Amy, and The Fading Place, as well as numerous short stories.
She has been writing fiction for over a decade, has a masters in writing popular fiction from
Seton Hill University, and is a member of The Authors Guild, Penn Writers, and International Thriller Writers.
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Release Blitz

Let Me Show You

Sometimes love comes along when we least expect it.
Author: Becca Seymour
Book: Let Me Show You
Genre: M/M Romance
Cover Designer: Booksmith Design
books2read.com/letmeshowyou
When a veterinarian and a construction worker connect, it takes mishaps, mistakes, and a Rhodesian Ridgeback named Rex to show them they’re made for each other.

Dr. Carter Falon is content living a quiet life in a small town caring for his animal patients. That doesn’t mean he’s not looking for a distraction. After finding himself precariously wedged… naked and at the mercy of a drop-dead gorgeous construction worker, Carter hires his savior to renovate his home.

When Tanner Grady’s best friend and new niece needed him, he uprooted and relocated without a second thought. His life has since been centered on work and spending time with his family, but when he comes to the rescue of a cute vet, Tanner finds he’s a lot more interested in the homeowner than the house he’s renovating. 
Google Play: http://bit.ly/2VCXq8R
   Releasing July 2nd…  
A swoon-worthy low-angst stand-alone contemporary M/M romance featuring characters from LET ME SHOW YOU.
Continue reading “Let Me Show You”
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Prescription for Love by Aimee Nicole Walker

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Prescription for Love

Road to Blissville Series, Book 7

Aimee Nicole Walker

M/M Romance

Release Date: 05.18.19

Prescription for love complete

Cover Design: Jay Aheer/https://www.facebook.com/Simply-Defined-Art-1622658254619778/

Photographer: Wander Aguiar/http://wanderaguiar.com/

BLURB

What should’ve been an ordinary emergency call turned out to be something extraordinary.

Wanting to distance himself from his toxic parents, Trent Love moved to the quaint town of Blissville to begin a new life. What he finds is blazing chemistry with a hunky fireman who breathes new life into him.

Fearing they’re too different, Tucker attempts to extinguish the spark between them before it can ignite. How could a simple man like him compete with Trent’s life of wealth and privilege? Knowing you shouldn’t want something doesn’t make it go away, and Tucker’s desire for Trent continues to smolder.

Unwilling to accept their relationship is dead on arrival, Trent puts his resuscitation skills to good use. All he wants is a chance to prove he values Tucker’s wealth of character over meaningless material things. What do you get when you mix fire and oxygen: a five-alarm fire or a prescription for love?

Trent’s commitment to freeing himself from poisonous ties kindles a chain of events that have devastating consequences for both men. Is a relationship forged in fire strong enough to overcome these obstacles or is their love doomed to be just another bitter pill to swallow?

Prescription for love is a small-town, opposites-attract romance. It is the seventh book in the Road to Blissville series but reads like a standalone book. It contains sexually explicit material intended for adults 18 and older.

http://mybook.to/PrescriptionForLove

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EXCERPT

Don’t be nervous. Don’t be nervous. Don’t be nervous. “Fuck!”I exclaimed when I drove past Tuck’s house. I looked in my rearview mirror and made sure no one was behind me before putting my car in reverse and backing up so I could pull into his driveway, hoping Tuck hadn’t seen me flake out. At least I stopped a safe distance from his truck instead of ramming into the back of it. Calm the fuck down. How many chances do you think Tuck will give you, moron? I looked at the potted orchid sitting on the passenger seat beside the bag with orchid food and the spray bottle of stuff the lady working at the florist counter recommended I buy. I’d purchased two of everything—one for Shirlene and one for Tucker. Doubt started to creep in, and I started second-guessing my decision to buy him an orchid. Some men liked flowers and others got insulted. I didn’t want him to think I assumed he liked flowers just because he was gay. I just thought they were beautiful and exotic like the way I felt every time Tucker’s eyes devoured me. No one had ever looked at me quite the way he did, and I craved it. Damn it. I was overthinking things again. I took a calming breath and exited the car with the pot in one hand and the bag of supplies in the other. Tucker met me at the door before I had a chance to knock. A wry grin spread across his face. “Did you have trouble finding my house?” Shit. “You don’t get to tease me,”I told him. “If you saw my stupid stunt, then you were watching out the window for me.” “I was watching for you,”Tucker admitted shamelessly. “I’ve been looking forward to this since we made plans. I was hoping an emergency didn’t pull you away.” I was stunned silent by his confession. What was I expecting from Tucker? Hesitance? Signs of him second-guessing himself? Doubt? The truth was I expected to see all those things warring for dominance in his dark eyes. His honesty startled me and bolstered my courage. “I brought you an orchid.” “I see that,”Tuck said, smiling warmly then stepping aside to allow me inside his house. Aimee Nicole Walker Logo

Ever since she was a little girl, Aimee Nicole Walker entertained herself with stories that popped into her head. Now she gets paid to tell those stories to other people. She wears many titles—wife, mom, and animal lover are just a few of them. Her absolute favorite title is champion of the happily ever after. Love inspires everything she does, music keeps her sane, and coffee is the magic elixir that fuels her day. I’d love to hear from you.

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Blog Tour

“Let Me Show You”

Let Me Show You

Becca Seymour has a new MM contemporary romance out: “Let Me Show You.”

When a veterinarian and a construction worker connect, it takes mishaps, mistakes, and a Rhodesian Ridgeback named Rex to show them they’re made for each other.

Dr. Carter Falon is content living a quiet life in a small town caring for his animal patients. That doesn’t mean he’s not looking for a distraction. After finding himself precariously wedged… naked and at the mercy of a drop-dead gorgeous construction worker, Carter hires his savior to renovate his home.

When Tanner Grady’s best friend and new niece needed him, he uprooted and relocated without a second thought. His life has since been centered on work and spending time with his family, but when he comes to the rescue of a cute vet, Tanner finds he’s a lot more interested in the homeowner than the house he’s renovating.

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Giveaway

Becca is giving away two $10 Amazon gift cards with this tour – enter via Raffleopter for a chance to win.

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Excerpt

Let Me Show You - Becca Seymour

Looking at the caller ID, I greeted, “Hey, Mom.”

“Hey, baby boy.” I smiled. In my late twenties, I was far from a baby, but she’d once told me that even at fifty I’d still be her baby. “Good day?”

“Yep. Not too bad. Nothing too hectic or crazy. You?”

“A great one. Your dad’s booked a cruise for our anniversary.” Excitement lit her words. She’d been hinting at Dad for a while about a cruise. I was pleased he’d listened. It didn’t take a lot to make my mom happy; she found joy in the smallest of things,so that he’d organized it all was pretty impressive. Mom usually organized everything, so I knew him booking the vacation for them was a big deal.

“That’s terrific. Caribbean?”

She actually squealed down the line. I pulled the phone from my ear and laughed loudly. “Yes! Carter, I’m so excited.”

“Really? I’d never have guessed.”

“Oh, hush.” She spoke over me as I laughed again. “Don’t sass your mother.”

My laughter continued. “Never, Mom. You’d tan my hide. Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I should think not. So anything new? Any dates?”

With a groan, I rubbed my face and then stepped further into the kitchen and pulled out a glass. “Mom…,” I sighed.

“What? I worry about you. You’re so far from home and are there all alone.”

I poured myself a glass of wine and took a sip. “I know you worry, but honestly, life’s good.” Admittedly it would have been nice to hook up, but one, I didn’t do casual and never had, and two, there was no way I’d tell my mom I was afraid my penis would drop off from lack of use. “There’s nothing new either, and that’s okay. I’m likingthe quiet life.”

“Hmm….” That was her tell for not being convinced. “You know, I was talking to Julie last week, and her nephew’s gay.”

“Mom,” I said with laughter, “honestly, no hookups. I do not need my mom fixing me up.”

She ignored me. “Well, he lives quite far away, but maybe a week of casual—” She cleared her throat. “—sex would do you good.”

“Jesus, Mom.” I spluttered on my mouthful of wine. Grabbing a towel, I wiped my face, catching the dribble of red wine on my chin, and wiped the countertop I’d sprayed. “Stop. I don’t need you arranging anything, okay? Please tell me you’re listening.” She was quiet. “Mom,” I said louder.

“Yes, yes, I hear you.” She sighed. “Grandbabies would be nice.”

Holy crap on toast! With wide eyes, I looked at the ceiling and counted to five. I then took a big gulp of wine before saying, “Mom.”

“Yes, baby boy?”

“I have to go. I need to grab a shower. I’m expecting someone.”

“Ooh—”

“Someone to fix the house up.” I’d heard the interest in her tone, the hope in that one syllable.

“Oh.” This time her voice dropped. I hated to kill her enthusiasm, but geez, I really needed to get off the phone.

“Love you, tell Dad I love him too. And I’ll speak to you guys later. Bye, Mom.”

“Will do.” Her tone was a bit brighter. “Love you too. Bye, honey.”

I disconnected quickly and placed my phone down. My mom, yeah, she was wonderful and drove me to absolute distraction. I knew how lucky I was. Every decision I’d ever made, my parents had always had my back. They supported me unconditionally. It was just that my mom could be a little extreme at times. I laughed into the empty room. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Quickly finishing my wine, I looked at the time. I had just fifteen minutes until the contractor was due. I’d left it late to organize myself, still a little in a tizzafter the conversation with my mom and the mention of babies. I glanced around the room at the disorderly mess. Every time I did so, I regretted it.

I detested chaos,and that was what the house felt like. The place was still strewn with my moving boxes, but I had yet to see the point in unpacking. Not necessarily because I planned to move, but rather, the whole house needed a lot of work, so I knew I’d have to pack my things up for any work on the house to start.

I really hoped this Tanner guy would be the person who could finally help me out. I’d had two other quotes, one local and one from out of town. Both were crazy high,and neither would be able to start for another five months or so. I was running out of options. This guy had come recommended to me by one of my clients, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up.

I sighed in defeat as I looked around. I’d have to continue ignoring it all until I finally had the place fixed up. I headed upstairs, careful to miss the coupleof steps that had loose boards, and headed to the main bathroom. I had an en suite, but the shower didn’t work, so it was the pearlescent green suite I headed toward. The sickly porcelain made me shudder every time I laid eyes on it. It was clean though, so there was that.

I hopped into the shower, latheredmyself up, and quickly rinsed off. That was when I heard the knock at the door. “Shoot.” I quickly turned off the taps, stepped out and grabbed a towel. In my haste to get myself together and then answer the door, the dodgy floorboard didn’t even register until my foot slammed throughit, snagging my ankle and bringing me to my knees.

I yelled as I fell, and cursed. Wincing, I looked at my predicament, trying to yank my foot out as I did so. A loud groan slipped past my lips. This was no good. I was wedged, and it appeared I’d lost my towel in my fall. Just great.


Author Bio

Becca Seymour

Becca Seymour lives and breathes all things book related. Usually with at least three books being read and two WiPs being written at the same time, life is merrily hectic. She tends to do nothing by halves so happily seeks the craziness and busyness life offers.

Living on her small property in Queensland with her human family as well as her animal family of cows, chooks, and dogs, Becca appreciates the beauty of the world around her and is a believer that love truly is love.

Author Website: https://beccaseymour.com

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Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/21905/

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Release Blitz

UNDER THE JASMINE FLOWERS

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Under the Jasmine Flowers

Author: W.S. Long

Publisher: JMS Books

Cover Artist: Written Ink Design

Release Date: May 18, 2019

Genre/s: Contemporary M/M Romance

Trope/s: Forced in the closet until he realizes he has to be out

Themes: Coming out, forgiveness

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length: 73 321 words/154 pages

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Blurb

Jojo Arias, a Spanish-Filipino mestizo, didn’t expect to meet a U.S. Marine in a swank bar in the Philippines. But, Jojo can’t deny the electricity they have once he meets Adam. Although they come from different worlds, they struggle to keep their relationship private to protect Jojo’s status, and position as part of one of wealthiest and powerful in Filipino society. Billions of dollars could be easily lost if his family business was jeopardized by Jojo’s secret. Jojo is pressured to abandon Adam and live a life in the closet. When the struggle to maintain their secret romance unravels, Jojo is left with a life-changing decision to leave his family, or to pursue his love.   Excerpt James Joseph Garcia Arias savored the last few drops, then set the now empty pilsner down, right next to two other empty bottles of San Miguel beer. Despite the thick glass windows in the swank Makati bar that should have offered some soundproofing, Saturday Manila traffic passed noisily one floor below. The rumble of buses, cars honking, and steady stream of headlights never bored him. He preferred the noise of the city to the quiet stillness that his parents called home. He glanced at his Patek Phillipe Nautilus watch his grandmother had given him. He texted Erwin. Ready. Barely a second or two passed, when his phone received the reply text. Be right there, boss. He sighed. He’d asked Erwin not to call him that for the longest time, but Erwin insisted. Jojo stood, fished out the right amount of pesos, plus a slightly larger gratuity than what was expected, then headed for the men’s room. A large group of Americans sat around the glass-tiled bar, laughing loudly. He guessed they were military, based on their crew cuts, hanging out to blow off steam. When he returned a few minutes later, after peeing an hour’s worth of beer, one of the military guys glanced up, and smiled at him. The man’s eyes followed Jojo. Walk on by. Don’t stop. He wanted to listen to the voice inside his head but he couldn’t. Maybe the alcohol made him less inhibited, maybe he was still reeling from the breakup with his fiancee and maybe he wanted to talk to someone who wasn’t an employee or a family member, or maybe because no one left in the bar knew him because the next thing he did was he stopped, inches away from the blond. “Is this seat taken?” Jojo asked. The stranger smiled more broadly and shook his head. “No.” Jojo waited a second to see if the handsome man would say something else, but all the blond man did was smile even more. “American right?” Jojo asked. “Yes.” “I’m guessing you guys are U.S. military?” “Marines, yeah. We’re sending one of our guys off, rotating from the Embassy here. My name’s Adam, by the way.” Adam offered his hand, which Jojo shook. “James Arias, but my friends call me ‘Jojo’.” Adam opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by his friends who came over to meet Jojo. It didn’t take Jojo long to figure that Adam was probably the only sober one in the group, as the four other guys slurred their words, and often laughed uncontrollably at each other’s jokes. When Adam’s friends returned to their seats at the bar, Adam leaned in. “Your English is perfect, no trace of an accent, so I’m guessing you’re American too?” “You’re partly right. I was born in America. My mother was a medical student in the U.S., and we lived in San Francisco but we moved back here after she got her degree.” “So your mom’s a doctor?” Jojo smiled. He wanted to tell Adam the whole long story of why his mother had never practiced medicine after she completed medical school because the family had seen no need of her working at a hospital or a clinic, and that these days her mother was busy hosting, or attending social and charitable events, but he thought the better of it and just answered simply. “Yeah, she is.” “So you live here. . . I mean the Philippines?” Adam asked. “Yes, I do.” “I’m sorry I’m asking stupid questions because you don’t look Filipino. I hope I’m not offending you by saying that. Most Filipinos are short and very Asian looking. You look more like my Latino friends from Southern California and in a good way.” Jojo laughed. “It’s probably the lighting, but my father and mother are both parts Spanish and Filipino so maybe that’s why my features are different than most.” Jojo’s cell phone vibrated. I’m downstairs, boss. Jojo palmed the phone for a second, aware that Adam was studying him. Erwin, something’s come up. Head back to the garage until I text you again. “Girlfriend?” Jojo shook his head without looking up from his phone. “Boyfriend then?” Jojo raised his head and laughed at the handsome man’s brazenness. He liked how Adam’s strong jawline, full lips and dark eyebrows peered at him, waiting on every word. Maybe it was the alcohol. He moved within earshot so that only the Marine could hear. “No, I haven’t had a boyfriend in a long time. But, I did just break up with my fiancée.” “Is that why you were nursing several beers over in that corner after your friends left you?” Jojo narrowed his eyes. “You’re very perceptive, Adam. Except they weren’t my friends, they were . . . co-workers.” Jojo almost said employees, but stopped himself. Maybe it was the Arias family tendency to be secretive, and not give out too much information, but here he was on a Saturday night in a bar, drinking, when he was usually still in the office poring over engineering details, building plans, and contract proposals. “I’m sorry about the break up. You look torn up about it. I couldn’t help but notice earlier when we first arrived. Can I buy you a beer?” Jojo smiled, then laughed without meaning to. The last time a guy had bought him a beer was in a dive bar right outside CalPoly, after an engineering final. “What’s so funny?” Adam asked, as he chuckled along. “It’s been a while since another guy offered to buy me a beer.” “No worries. It looked like earlier you needed it. Did she break your heart?” Jojo faced toward the bar, away from Adam. Jojo didn’t say anything, but he wanted to respond. Adam spoke again. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.” Jojo pondered Adam’s question as Adam’s friends got louder and louder on their end of the bar. “Don’t worry about them,” Adam said as he pointed to his friends. “I’m the designated driver, and in about an hour they’ll all be sound asleep snoring in the government issued van I’m driving.” So he’s brazen without alcohol. Jojo faced Adam and breathed deeply. He couldn’t tell the color of Adam’s piercing eyes but Jojo couldn’t deny his own intense interest in the serviceman. Adam leaned in and prolonged his gaze. Jojo was mesmerized. Adam seemed genuinely concerned. And maybe he was wrong, but Adam appeared compassionate. “She asked me if I was ever going to marry her. If I loved her, and if we were only together because both our families wanted it. I had to tell her the truth, and that as much as I had feelings for her, I didn’t love her.” “Ouch!” Then Adam smiled, his voice took on a tone of playfulness. “And you’re here, living and breathing with no scratch on you.” “She is a very logical, rational person. That’s why I liked her when we first met. She was so completely different from the other girls my parents tried to set me up with.” “You have a picture of her? I’m curious.” Jojo nodded, fished out his phone, and scrolled through some pictures before showing a good one of his ex, Lani. “Wow. She’s hot. Your parents had good taste if they thought she would be a good wife.” One of Adam’s friends sauntered over and peered at Lani’s photo. “Dude, your girlfriend?” “Ex,” Adam said. “That’s his ex.” “How about giving me her number? She’s pretty.” Jojo shook his head. If Lani, a black belt in tae kwon do, found out he’d ever given her number to someone, she’d probably roundhouse kick him in the head before he knew anything about it. “Sorry, I can’t do that.” “Well, at least I tried,” the Marine said. “Hey, Adam, we’re thinking we should head on over to the bars downtown.” “Downtown?” Adam asked. “Ermita,” the man said. Adam turned away so that only Jojo could see his face as he rolled his eyes. “What do you say? For old time’s sake?” his friend asked. “You’re welcome to come along––’’ “––Jojo, my name’s, Jojo,” as they both shook hands. “Mine’s Nate. Yeah, come along with us, I’m sure Adam won’t mind,” the Marine continued. “It’ll keep him company, and his mind off his ex-boyfriend he’s probably still pining after.” Adam slouched. Adam’s reaction to his Marine buddy’s comment must have hit a chord and Jojo was compelled to find out more about Adam. Jojo hesitated for a moment. He wasn’t used to spontaneously accepting strangers offers to hang out, but Adam’s eyes beckoned him to say yes. Besides, maybe a few more hours out on the town would make him feel better for breaking up with Lani. “If you’re sure I won’t be a fifth wheel, yeah, I’ll join you.” Adam smiled. “Nate’s a little bit of a douche bag. So sorry about that.” “Well, your friend’s had a little too much to drink.” Jojo leaned closer, sticking a hand in his pants pocket, his lips almost touching Adam’s ear, and whispered. “But to be honest, that scene is a little too, I’m trying to find the right words to say it––” “––Red light? Yeah, I hate going down there.” Adam put his hand on top of Jojo’s wrist, squeezed it, and then removed it. The quick touch happened in a blink of an eye. “Do you have any other suggestions?” Jojo didn’t say anything. He was shocked that Adam had just placed his hand on him, so casually, so friendly like. He couldn’t deny the electricity he felt when Adam touched him either. “If they’re looking for dancing women, there’s a club two blocks from here, more upscale but not so red light, as you say.” “Well, lead the way, Jojo.” Adam smiled. “I’ll rustle them from the bar and we’ll follow you.” Adam stood and moved to where Nate and the other guys were huddled. Jojo motioned to the bartender. “I’ll pay their tab.” “Thanks, Mr. Arias. Shall I add it to your monthly bill?” Jojo nodded. Before he could say anything else, Adam appeared at his elbow. Standing, he towered over Jojo by a few inches. “The boys are cool checking out a new place. Thanks for the offer.” “So who’s leaving that you’re having this party for?” Jojo asked. “His name’s John.” Adam pointed him out. “He’s been stationed at the Embassy for more than three years now. Overdue for his new assignment back to San Diego.” Jojo signed the chit the bartender handed him without even looking at the total bill. “Hey, is that our bill? You shouldn’t have done that. What do we owe you?” Jojo shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I come here often enough that they actually give me a discount, and I’m glad to pay. Thanks for your service. All of you.” Adam walked to where Nate stood, clapped him on the shoulder, and shouted something in his ear. All the guys around Nate, including John turned to Jojo and raised their glasses and beer bottles, some empty and others not so empty. “Thanks!” they shouted in unison. Adam took two steps back to Jojo. “Now, they’ll follow you to the ends of the earth. Buying their drinks bought you some loyalty. Lead the way, fine sir!” Adam gestured with a bow, holding an invisible cap in his hands as his head followed the gesture. Jojo laughed at the dramatic flourish and walked out of the bar, Adam right next to him as the other Marines followed them. As they took the steps down one level to the street, Jojo recognized the SUV parked on the side. “Hold on,” he said to Adam. Jojo approached the Lexus with dark tinted windows. The whir of the window revealed Erwin’s face. “I didn’t go back to the garage, boss. They said I could just wait here until you were done, however long it lasted.” “Well, we’re headed to my cousin’s VIP club down the block. You know the one. If you want to meet me there, that’s fine.” Jojo ignored his driver’s raised eyebrow. Jojo’s cousin, Tiny, owned a lounge with a rooftop bar. Jojo hadn’t talked to Tiny in a week or so, since Tiny asked for a loan from Arias Holdings to help his deep in the red bar. Tiny’s club had boxing on one floor, Ukrainian and Russian models on the second floor, and Filipino women, working as cocktail waitresses, dressed in Vietnamese ao dais whose skirts were mini-skirts rather than full length dresses. The male bartenders were all selectively picked for the discreet crowd. Cousin Tiny interviewed the entire bar and wait staff himself, making sure that they were attractive. The truth was, if they could flirt with Tiny and the head waitress, they were hired if they had a pretty face. Jojo didn’t care for the little people fighting in a small area that took up most of the dance floor, but his cousin assured him that he never exploited them, and that they were being paid handsomely to pretend to hit each other very hard. The walk to the building where the lounge was didn’t take long. Security at the front recognized Jojo immediately. “They’re with me,” Jojo pointed to Adam and the Marines. The large security guard at the front, who Jojo guessed was probably part Samoan and part Filipino, was dressed in a heavy wool jacket and pants, nodded and then radioed the two equally large security guards by the door. They were shown to the marbled main floor of the building. As soon as they took the elevators, again escorted by another security guard, Adam and the Marines were quiet and didn’t say much. When they arrived at the final floor, loud music greeted them before the elevator doors opened.  

About the Author

A military brat, who joined the military himself, W.S. Long now practices law during the day, but at night reads and writes male-male romance. When he’s not writing, W.S. Long travels and dreams of traveling far off distant lands with his mild-mannered college professor husband.

 

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Blog Tour

Seeing Red by Alex Beecroft

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Seeing Red

Trowchester Series, Book 5

Alex Beecroft

Contemporary MM Romance

Release Date: 05.12.19

Seeing Red Cover

BLURB

Bad boys don’t tame easy.

Victor is a bad man. Is there anything he won’t do for power and money?

Destroy a local business so he can buy it cheap? Kick out its owners and turn it into a cash cow? He relishes the chance.

Idris is a good man in possession of a renowned tea-house. He’s put his heart and soul into the place. It’s everything he has and wants…

Except for Victor.

He wants Victor too.

Can the love of a compassionate man soften a predator’s heart before it’s too late? Or is Idris doomed to lose his life’s work, and his heart with it?

A contemporary mm romance, Seeing Red is a long-awaited new installment of the critically acclaimed Trowchester Series. Each book in the series is a standalone, and can be read in any order. Feel free to start here and work back!

https://amzn.to/2VnfmiU

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EXCERPT

“You were brought up poor?” Idris’s inner voice was now more of a clench of pity and anger in his gut. “And you see yourself in these dogs?”Stray dogs, un-fed, unwanted, dogs that were being taken out to be drowned. “I won’t ask you the story behind that,”Idris put out an arm and pulled the man closer to him, relishing the way Victor melted into him, letting his meagre weight rest against Idris’s sturdier frame. “But I want to remind you that not only you but also I fell in love with these dogs the moment we saw them. Those who mistreated them before… not everyone is like that.” “They are, though.”Victor’s head came slowly down to rest on Idris’s shoulder, tentatively. His cynical words made even that little gesture of trust seem enormous, more than Idris deserved. “It’s kill or be killed out there, and I’m not… I’m not going to be killed. Of course, he had fought off two men only a couple of hours ago—bigger men than himself. That must have taken some courage, and he was probably now exhausted from the adrenaline crash. With that and whiskey on top of it, he was confessing private insecurities to a man he had only just met. As much as Idris would have liked to carry on supporting all his weight, hearing his murmured confessions, and perhaps sliding his fingers into that drying hair and stealing a kiss or two, he realized that this was absolutely not the time. They had done a good thing here. Idris would not sully it by continuing to make a pass at a man who was more vulnerable than usual, whose judgment might be impaired, and who might therefore regret it in the morning. “Let me get you to bed,”he said, and then hurriedly, realizing it could be misinterpreted, ”you need to sleep. In the morning, I’ll convene an emergency book-club meeting and we can meet up again then. All right? I think you’re too tired for anything else.” “Out of the habit,”Victor raised his head slightly and smiled fuzzily. “Out of the habit of… rescuing dogs?” “Fighting, ‘cept—except with words. I guess I am tired.” Alex Beecroft

I was born in Northern Ireland during the Troubles and grew up in the wild countryside of the English Peak District. I studied English and Philosophy before accepting employment with the Crown Court where I worked for a number of years. Now a full time author, I live with my husband and two children in a little village near Cambridge and try to avoid being mistaken for a tourist.

Asexual, agender and mother of a transgender son, I still feel like my place in the LGBT community is perhaps peripheral. But it’s very important to me nevertheless.

I’m only intermittently present in the real world. I have lead a Saxon shield wall into battle, I can be found most weekends practicing an eight hundred year old form of English folk dance, and recently I’ve been getting into Steampunk, with a character who’s a cross between Evie from The Mummy and Indiana Jones.

I write queer romance – that is, my main characters are typically gay, bisexual, transgender, pansexual or asexual men. Best known for historicals, I also write Fantasy/SF and contemporary romance, all of which tends to be on the sweeter side of the heat spectrum.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AlexBeecroftAuthor/

Website: https://alexbeecroft.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Alex_Beecroft

Newsletter: https://mailchi.mp/e51c660f7258/insubordination

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Garrett’s Ghost

Garrett’s Ghost
by Pamela Ackerson
Genre: Time Travel Western
What’s a time traveling Texas Ranger supposed to do?
Garrett Houston is being harassed by a ghost. Trouble is brewing and her name is Margarite. She’s an unrelenting force determined to get his attention. It may be too late for her, but if she could get him to listen, she may be able to save some lives.
A story of unrequited love, the power of healing, and the embracing need to never give up. Unforgettable moments and unforgettable characters will tug at the heartstrings with a myriad of emotions.
Garrett’s Ghost is a touching story brimming with down-home Texas charm.
**Free from May 6th to May 10th!!**
Wife, mother, author, and time traveling adventurer. Born and raised in Newport, RI where history is a way of life, Pamela Ackerson now lives on the Space Coast of Florida, a hop, skip, and jump from Orlando, where imagination and fantasy abounds. With the love of reading, she graduated to writing non-fiction, historical fiction, time travel, and children’s preschool/first reader books.
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Girls of Yellow



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Mystery, Thriller
Elise De Jong/Sami Ali Book 1
Publisher: Penwood
Published: May 2018

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Imagine a world where modern governments failed their citizens and long-simmering conflicts escalated into global war. Imagine if its survivors migrated toward those who share the same faith. Imagine the continents are ruled by religions.

When the mysterious death of a teenage girl triggers memories of a similar childhood event, police Detective Sami Ali becomes consumed with solving her murder. Persecuted by the shame of his past, Ali will stop at nothing to find the killer, even if his investigation puts his wife and daughter at risk.

As he follows the clues, Ali collides with another lost soul – a foreign spy. Elise De Jong’s official mission in Eurabia involves the acquisition of a priceless item that could shift the balance of power among the theocracies. But she also has a personal objective – to find her last living relative, the little sister whom she hasn’t seen since her birth.

To succeed in their missions, Elise and Ali must find common ground despite their religious differences, for they can depend only on each other.




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Excerpt



Major Sami Ali knew he’d been assigned the dhimmi’s murder because he was the worst detective on the Budapest police force. And he understood exactly what his boss expected him to do – use minimal departmental resources to conduct a basic investigation, find no evidence of religious cleansing, and bury the case.

Ali knew such a weak effort rendered him a fraud and he didn’t care. Pride didn’t pay his daughter’s tuition. His job was to follow orders and provide for his family. Also, his father had made him take an oath as a child to hate Christians and Jews for the rest of his life. He didn’t give a damn about the dhimmis.

The body had been found at the Matthias Catholic Church, one of only three remaining Christian churches in the section of the city known as Dhimmi Town. Gothic  spires decorated with gargoyles towered above a diamond-patterned roof, green and brown ceramic tiles glittering in the sun. Ismael, the crime scene technician, was kneeling beside the corpse near the altar when Ali arrived inside. His friend reminded Ali of a mongoose – unassuming at first glance, but pity the snake who dared to test his mettle.

“First comes Saturday,” Ismael said.

“Then comes Sunday,” Ali said.

The salutation had originated in the Middle East during the early twentieth century, long before the third world war, the collapse of governments and economies, and the migration of survivors toward people who shared the same faith.

First we’ll take care of the Jews, who pray on Saturday, and then we’ll take care of the Christians, who pray on Sunday.

The old prophecy had been fulfilled in Arabia. Then, after Muslims flooded Europe, Sharia law had been enacted throughout the continent. Only the dhimmis prevented the prophecy from being true in what was now known as Eurabia, too.

And now there were one fewer dhimmis.

Ali couldn’t see the corpse. Ismael was hovering over it, blocking his view.

“What are we celebrating?” Ali said.

“Death by strangulation,” Ismael said.

“What? No machete?”

“No blood. He strangled her with his hands.”

“No blood. You’ve got to be kidding … Wait. Did you say her?”

“Bruising on both sides of the neck but no actual prints. He must have worn gloves.”

“Signs of struggle?” Ali said.

“None that I can see.”

Ismael stepped back to reveal a girl’s corpse, a lithe figure with hair the color of sun-drenched wheat. “Look, A. She can’t be more than fourteen or fifteen.”

“Ish,” Ali said. The first syllable of his friend’s name was the only sound he could muster because the sight of the girl had taken him to the place he hoped to never revisit.

“What a waste,” Ismael said.

Ali’s childhood memories were secured in an impenetrable vault protected by imaginary barbed wire, steel walls, and padlocks. Whenever something or someone prodded the vault, its protective devices tightened. This time, however, its defenses disintegrated and the locks sprang open. Out streamed the vision he loathed so much it made him long for sudden death.

It was all in the past, Ali tried to tell himself, but no one could detect a lie more easily than a cop, even a lousy one. A similar-looking girl was lying before him. And she, too, was dead.

“The eyes,” Ismael said. He reached over and lifted the dead girl’s eyelids.  “You see the eyes?”

They looked like aquamarine jewels.

Of course Ali had noticed the eyes, as surely as he’d noticed the girl’s oval face, alabaster skin, and golden locks. It wasn’t their beauty that shocked Ali and Ismael, but rather their presence in their sockets, because the typical religious cleansing involved their removal. Lower your head – submit to Islam – lest your eyes be snatched.

Ismael nodded for Ali to come closer, then glanced in both directions to make sure the other two technicians taking pictures of the church interior couldn’t hear him.

“She wasn’t killed here,” Ismael said. “She was brought here after the fact.”

“How can you be sure?”

Ismail lowered his voice further. “Because there was a witness.”

Ali lost his breath. “A witness?” There were never any witnesses in Dhimmi Town, at least none brave or stupid enough to come forward.

“The caretaker who called it in. He was here when the killer brought in the body. Point of entry, front door. Point of exit, front door.

“He saw the killer?”

“He was taken to headquarters to give his statement and for his own protection. But I don’t think it’s his protection your boss will be worried about. Especially not with the world leaders in town for that conference. Think about it. The heads of all four kingdoms – the Buddhists, Hindus, Christians and us – all in the same place. Can’t have religious cleansing when the religions are trying to find a way to get along, can you?”

Ali heard the question and understood Ismael’s point. His boss wanted the case buried quickly. But that mattered less to Ali than Ismael’s previous implication, that the higher-ups would do everything necessary to make sure the witness was silenced. To Ali’s own amazement, something compelled him right there and then to do everything in his power to make sure the witness was heard.

But was he too late?

Ali told Ismael he’d be in touch and rushed out of the church.  As he ran toward his car, the call to prayer sounded. It was the second such call of the day which meant it was just past noon. The sound of the Muezzin’s mellifluous voice always slowed Ali’s pulse, drained him of angst and sorrow, and lifted his spirits. The thought of not stopping whatever he was doing to contemplate the substance of his Islamic beliefs five times a day was unthinkable.

Yet that’s exactly what he considered doing the moment the initial call sounded. The image of the dead girl from his youth gripped him so tightly that he wanted – no, he needed  – to begin a thorough investigation of this girl’s murder immediately. One death bore no relation to the other. More than twenty-five years had past since the first girl had died. The victims merely resembled each other.

Ali realized this but it made no difference to him. To say that he’d failed the first girl was a gross understatement. He couldn’t contemplate repeating the mistake. Did he even have the skills to solve a murder? Ali wasn’t sure himself. The other cops called him the Dhimmi Lover precisely because he had no love for them. It was a joke well-known throughout the force. What would they say if the worst detective in Eurabia started acting like a real police? The Dhimmi Lover actually trying to solve the murder of a dhimmi? They’d all get a laugh out of that one.

When the second call came for prayer to begin, Ali didn’t stop to face Mecca. Instead, he climbed in his car, hammered the gas pedal and raced toward the station. Never before had he thought of the streets of Dhimmi Town as his own. Who in his right mind would want them?

But they were his, he realized, whether he liked them or not, just as surely as he was among the few Muslims not prostrating themselves before Allah in the capital city of the central region of the Eurabian Caliphate.

Ali hoped like hell no one recognized him behind the wheel.

 

About the Author

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Orest Stelmach is a mystery and thriller writer and the author of the Nadia Tesla series. His novels have been Kindle #1 bestsellers, optioned for film development, and translated into numerous foreign languages. Prior to becoming a full-time writer, Orest was an institutional investment portfolio manager for twenty-five years. He is a graduate of Dartmouth College and the University of Chicago Booth School of Business.



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