Release Blitz

Dark Money Love by Ace Fawn

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Dark Money Love

Author: Ace Fawn

Publisher: Self-Published

Cover Artist: Angela Haddon

Release Date: September 1, 2021

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance

Tropes: Age-gap, work off the debt, yakuza, loan shark

Themes: Money, love and death

Heat Rating:  5 flames

Length: 35 893 words/121 pages

It is a standalone story.

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Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

Blurb

Akira Kazama is a man that gets what he wants. A loan shark king affiliated with the yakuza, he practically runs the money game in Tokyo.

Sora Nakano wants to save his mother’s life. When he has no choice left but to take out a hefty loan for her medical bills, he becomes indebted to Akira.

For Akira, business is always strictly business. And when someone owes him money, he always collects. Except this time, he wants more than just money from Sora.

He wants his body.

They agree on an arrangement for Sora to pay off the debt, and it’s supposed to be a win-win situation for them both. But Sora never wanted to be involved with the dark, hidden side of Akira’s life, and when Sora is threatened, he must turn to Akira for help.

Will Sora save his mother and get out of this alive? Or will he spiral down the path of dark money love?

Excerpt 

Why was Akira looking at him like that? That intense gaze made Sora’s stomach churn. When Akira’s eyes swept over his body, Sora shifted in his seat. Akira was a handsome man, and Sora wasn’t used to this type of attention. The silence was unsettling, suffocating, and Sora was drowning in it.

“I have nothing,” Sora said, his voice broken.

“So…you don’t have any personal belongings worth enough to sell, no job or income. And…based on your file, you live in an internet café, correct?”

Sora nodded, his head down. He felt shame, sharp and searing like razor blades in his veins. What would his mother say if she saw him now? He was an embarrassment.

“Why an internet café?”

Sora shrugged. “Rent is cheap.”

“What did you spend all that money on?” Akira asked.

Sora didn’t speak. He stared down at his shaking hands, his eyes burning with impending tears. He sniffled, cheeks hot and breathing laboured.

“How will you pay off your debt?” Akira asked.

“I don’t know,” Sora whispered. Tears spilled onto his cheeks, but he didn’t bother to wipe them away.

“At this rate, your debt will triple by the end of the month. And with no sure way to pay it back, it’ll be far worse than what it already is.”

Sora started to sob. He kept his head down, tears dropping in big globs onto his jeans, staining the fabric a darker shade of blue.

He couldn’t pay back a thing. What good was he, then?

Would Akira have him killed? Sora wondered where the authorities would find his body once they were done with him.

Akira stood from his chair and rounded the desk. His cologne was intense as he stood next to Sora and wiped the tears off his cheek with the pad of his thumb.

Sora stifled a gasp and looked up at Akira, his eyes wide and bloodshot with tears.

“Crying will not change a thing.”

“Then what do I do?” Sora asked, his voice shaking. He felt like chum in the water.

Akira chuckled, his voice low. “You pay me back.”

“But I already told you I can’t pay you back. I have nothing.”

“Yes, you do. You have yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

He saw it then, the smirk twisting up at the corner of Akira’s lips. Sora’s cheeks burned, and his stomach squirmed.

“You know what I mean,” Akira said. He walked back to his chair behind the desk and sat down.

Sora frowned. “You can’t expect me to—”

“I expect you to pay me back one way or another, Sora. And since you have nothing else to give me, you can pay back your incurred debt with your body.”

That squirming sensation in the pit of Sora’s stomach worsened. His head spun. Sora wanted to block out Akira’s words, he wanted to get up and run out of the room, but all he could do was sit there, staring.

“Ten thousand yen will be deducted from your account after each service. That is a sure way to settle your debt.”

This didn’t feel real. Akira couldn’t be serious.

“But I can’t do that!” Sora exclaimed.

Akira’s gaze darkened, his voice firm. “You can, and you will. You owe me, Sora. And I’m going to make sure you pay me back.”

“There has to be another way.”

“Like what, Sora? The bank won’t give you a loan, so you can’t give me their money. The government won’t help you. Many people in your position commit suicide, but that would be such a terrible waste. And if you went to the wrong people asking for money and couldn’t pay them back…well…that’s a sure way to get yourself killed.”

Sora stared at Akira. What choice did he have? There was no way Sora could get out of this. If he didn’t want to end up dead on the street, he’d have to go through with it.

Akira watched him, waiting. “So what will it be?”

It all felt surreal, like it wasn’t even happening in the first place.

Sora sniffled and wiped his eyes. He took in a few breaths, trying to calm down. “When…when will we start?”

“Our business arrangement will take effect tomorrow evening if you agree,” Akira said.

Sora hesitated. “Does that mean you’ll sell my body off to anyone and everyone?”

Akira narrowed his eyes. “I am not a pimp, and besides, I don’t like sharing.”

Sora’s cheeks flushed. He let out a shaky breath. What was he getting himself into?

“You’ll be servicing me only,” Akira said.

Sora couldn’t nod. He couldn’t even swallow the damn spit in his mouth, let alone speak. He was stuck, staring into that rapturing gaze. This was it. No turning back.

About the Author 

Australian author Ace Fawn writes contemporary m/m romance fiction. She is drawn to dark themes and loves reading m/m books as much as she loves writing them.

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Book Blitz

Shifting to Freedom

 

Literary Fiction, Autofiction, Contemporary Women’s Fiction

Published: July 2021



In the literary, auto fiction about contemporary women, Shifting to Freedom, Tess, a medical doctor, to escape from fear, pain, horrendous manic depressive mood swings, and hallucinations, dissociates, crossing invisible barriers to become ‘alter’nate personalities.

Her life, heartrending in sadness, constantly threatens to become unraveled.

Her tenuous hope for recovery is as fragile as her emotions.

Shattering” is her constant fear.

We hear her cry from the darkness, tears we cannot stop, but we hold on to what we can—hope.


What people are saying about Shifting to Freedom:

Marlene writes with great facility. Her writing is intelligent; her prose is poetic. In my practice, I’ve treated patients with Multiple-Personality Disorder. It would be unprofessional of me to give a definitive diagnosis without interviewing Tess and the “alters.” However, there is no doubt that Tess has dissociative episodes. To survive the horrific traumas of childhood, she would have had to develop an escape mechanism, and dissociating was probably, the only way.”— Dr. David Yeung MBBS, FRCPC.

I can’t help but think, because of the explicit detail, that this story is, at least in part, autofiction. Or else, the author must have known Tess, intimately. Her story is painfully acute, deeply sad, riveting, and all engrossing. It brings awareness to Multiple-Personality Disorder that I could never have imagined. To help rid the stigma that surrounds mental illness, Tess’s story needs to reach a broad audience.”—ML from Vancouver, BC., a beta reader and severe critic during the early throes of Tess’s story becoming a book.




About the Author

I ran barefoot on the Canadian prairies in the dust that settled after the 2nd World War. That makes me an octogenarian, an oldie.

Thrust from the infinity of wheat fields into the warp of the Rockies, Selkirk and Purcell mountains, the light that defined a frightful, but interesting, high school life challenged me.

Our neighbours were all Italian—migrants to Canadian mining towns. With his Welsh-born farmers’ busyness, my father found strange their art of dolce far niente—that is, the sweetness of doing nothing. They practised it, “Come in. Come in. Sit down. Taste my homemade vino.” My father adapted. The family adapted.

And the flames of railway trestles burning and women parading nude colored life. Doukhobors (a sect that had fled persecution in Russia) settled in the Kootenays. They protested having to send their children to public schools.

Wearing a babushka and twirling spaghetti, not only did I survive those years, but I thrived.

Vancouver, the big city, where I discovered traffic lights and city buses, claimed me for medical lab training, and I worked the night shift in the blood bank to put myself through university.

I’ve worked in cancer research, taught at tech schools, become a registered massage therapist, taken up energy schooling in NY., married and raised two kids, and, at 73, published A Many Layered Skirt, a biography about a young Chinese girl trying to keep one frightening step ahead of the soldiers, during the Japanese occupation.

My husband, of 56 years, was Chinese. Our mixed marriage was intriguing, and happiness was ours. Interests in people, cultures and places took us around the world. Many of those adventures find their way into my writing. He passed away, throwing my life into chaos. Now, I’ve picked up the pen, again. I wonder what it will write.


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