Title: The Warrior’s Assassin

Series: Born in Sin, Book One

Author: Nikki McCoy

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 08/30/2021

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 61300

Genre: Fantasy, LGBTQIA+, mythical creatures (fae, jinn), incarceration, soulmates/bonding, revenge, prison escape, cliffhanger

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Description

For over a century, Kita has paid for his sins in innocence and blood. The sin of being born, for daring to exist, and for polluting the fae race with his tainted, mixed heritage. Half fae and half human, he is an abomination belonging to neither race, yet caught in the midst of their feuding. After winning his freedom from a lifetime of slavery to the fae, a ghost from his past has come to pull him back into the depths of hell. And this time, there will be no escape. To the world, Jacen McKenna is a gang leader, arms and drug trafficker, slaver. Labels he wears proudly to cover his true intentions. He is a warrior among his kind, dealing justice to his enemies and mercy to those without hope. He’d thought getting thrown into Babylon, a prison notorious for its inescapability, was the ultimate low point in his life. He was wrong. From the second he laid eyes on Kita, he knew fate wasn’t done screwing him over. Beautiful, wild, and defiant, Kita brought out every protective instinct he possessed; ravaged him with emotions he never thought himself capable of. He tried to keep his distance, but fate, yet again, had other plans. Caught in an impossible situation, they both have to learn to trust each other. But trust was a precious commodity in a world that had turned its back on them. Together, they must fight if they want to survive the war brewing in their midst.

Excerpt

The Warrior’s Assassin Nikki McCoy © 2021 All Rights Reserved Kita shook himself to clear his head, wondering what had made him think of that night so many years ago. Normally, his repressed memories came to him in dreams. Or, rather, nightmares. At thirteen, he’d been foolish enough to desperately believe in Bergiese’s vision despite his cynicism. Later, he had learned to see the truth behind the pretty lie. There was no savior or salvation waiting for him somewhere down the path of his life. There was only misery and pain, and he was so incredibly sick of it all that his mind had begun to slip back into the state of bleak abjection he’d carried in his youth. The future was a yawning maw empty of anything that made life worth living. What few reasons for happiness he’d found had faded quickly, leaving him raw and desolate. He knew it was time to end everything, yet he couldn’t bring himself to put a gun to his head and pull the trigger. Funny how a person with no pride could consider suicide to be cowardly. He drew back into the shadows of the alleyway when the door to the abandoned hotel opened. Nicolas Gordon, Nicki as he was known on the streets, walked out followed by a shorter man wearing a trench coat. The hood of Nicki’s sweatshirt was pulled down low to hide most of his face. Not that his poor attempts at anonymity over the past week had worked in his favor. He’d been found, and he would die tonight. The two men spoke quietly, the steam of their breath curling in the frigid night air. They began to walk rapidly in the other direction. Kita slipped from his cover and entered the building, the squealing of rusted hinges on the door the only sound. The area was mostly deserted, although not as run down as some of the neighborhoods he had seen. This small town, like so many scattered across the country, had had the misfortune of being located near a Crown Federation military base. During the Islandar Civil War, more than a century ago, all of the bases had been targeted and summarily disabled. Some still lay in ruins from domestic terrorist attacks while others had been taken apart from the inside and left to rot in the wake of espionage and independent financial ruin. Overall, Okasis fared decently in comparison. Its Federation base still functioned, which was a boon to the town’s economy, such as it was—struggling and on the constant verge of collapse. He reached within himself for his power of pyrokinesis and sparked a small flame at his fingertip. With it, he searched the rooms on the first floor for Nicki’s belongings. If the reports were true, Nicki carried on him a laptop with information potentially disastrous to the Federation. Kita had been charged with confiscating the laptop and killing him. Pinard, his keeper in the ISBF, Internal Security Branch of the Federation, had told him in no uncertain terms not to go through the laptop himself. However, the unusually avid interest in this mission had drawn his curiosity. The order had come from General Laurs, head of security, and was highly classified. That in itself threw up a red flag. Why would an insignificant peon on the low rung of society’s ladder be such a high‒profile target? The Federation didn’t send its dog on assassinations anyone could pull off. It just didn’t add up, even if the man was a renegade jinn. He found the meager belongings in the last room amid layers of decay and rat droppings. In the duffel bag was a battered laptop one would hardly expect to find classified intel on. With the decryption device he’d liberated from Pinard’s desk, he easily hacked through its security. Two documents in particular stood out to him. What he read in them made his blood run cold. It had to be some kind of mistake or propaganda to use against the Federation. Yet, the more he read, the faster it became obvious this wasn’t a hoax. Most of the information contained in the documents correlated with events only the ISBF knew about. Critical threats against the Federation made over the past several decades that had been swept under the rug. Briefly, he scrunched his eyes shut. He had hoped for something to hold against Pinard, but this… This was well beyond the limits of anything he could handle on his own. Of all the endless ways this information could be used, only one outcome was certain. Their country would be plunged into another civil war. Serving these documents up to the general would only exacerbate the situation and quicken the inevitable outcome. “Shit,” he hissed.

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Meet the Author

Nikki McCoy lives in the vast, open spaces of Wyoming where the wind is a beast and the snow dominates for 10 months out of the year. But the night are filled with magic and mystery. It’s during these nights that her world becomes a collage of cunning intrigue, edgy mysteries and sexy, sometimes brutal men. She loves to let her imagination run away with her. The darker the fantasy, the greater the spoils.

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Title: Truth to Light

Author: Eddie Newton

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 08/30/2021

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 67000

Genre: , LGBTQIA+, action, adventure, angels, demons, magic, magic users

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Description

Sofía Hernandez has been looking for her truth all her life. She was adopted as a baby and never knew her birth parents. She was assigned male, and that wasn’t the truth either. So when she gets a phone call from someone offering to clear up the mysteries in her life, she starts on an adventure that leads to revelations she can hardly believe are true. Sofía’s birth sister reaches out and reveals a world full of greater mysteries than Sofía ever could have imagined. A secret organization called the Illuminati created a universal lie about the population of Earth, concealing the true nature of the world. The Illuminati hides the real Wider World behind a magical glamour, concealing the existence of ghosts, aliens, monsters, angels, demons, and more. Truth to Light is a novel that explores what it means to be true to yourself and what truth can mean to different people. Sofia is a transgender woman who must deal with changes both within and without. Her transformation will need to accommodate not only her own identity, but the very nature of the world around her.

Excerpt

Truth to Light Eddie Newton © 2021 All Rights Reserved “Do you want to see a magic trick?” Vincent Prospero asked the trio of college kids in response to their drunken taunts concerning his anachronistic attire. Vincent stood at the bottom of the hill in the middle of Ningúno Lane in Eden, Delaware. For the first time in three years, he was back. On a Saturday night, this part of Eden featured frat boys and sorority sisters stumbling between saloons up and down the neighborhood. There was not a sober undergrad in sight. Vincent had originally planned on walking past the partiers and straight up the street to the house on the top of the hill. But the three inebriated instigators just had to make a comment on his top hat. Vincent was tall and thin and dressed like Abraham Lincoln. He tipped off his top hat to reveal a mess of blond hair, which matched his wispy goatee and made him resemble a man featured on a circus advertisement from the nineteenth century. Vincent held the hat out for the college kids to inspect. The brilliant grin of a small child bloomed on the face of the big jock in a football jersey, intoxication imitating innocence. He wore the number seventy-seven with the name “Murphy” above it. Murph put his two palms together and rubbed his hands like a miser surveying his millions. “So that ‘splains the goofy getup,” Murph drooled, and a string of spittle connected his bottom lip to the pavement of Ningúno Lane. “I wanna see a maji-trig.” “Me too,” said the girl beside Murph. His girl. Certainly, she was always a me-too. “Yeah,” agreed the third wheel. Magic was all about secrets. The trick worked because you did not know the truth. You couldn’t figure out the how. Vincent liked his secrets. “Here,” Vincent said, handing his cane to the third wheel. “Hold this. Careful now, the magic is in there.” The young man held the cane across his open palms as if cradling legendary Excalibur itself. “Just a normal top hat. Nothing inside. Here, put your hand in.” Murph’s girl put her petite hand in halfway up her forearm. Nothing inside. “Empty. Agree?” She nodded. Vincent turned it around and spun it in his hands. “Look all around it. Nothing suspicious?” Three heads shook, all a little wobbly. Vincent held out the hat and opened it upward. The sun hung over the rooftops of Eden, evening languidly exhaling the last light of day. Twilight blanketed the lane in cozy shadows, obscuring the interior of the top hat. “Now, young man, tap the cane on the edge of the hat,” Vincent instructed the third wheel. The man raised one manicured eyebrow. “Nothing to fear, I assure you. Magic is only dangerous when it needs to be.” The third wheel took the end of the cane in his hand so gently he must have been imagining it was a tender lover who might scorn him if he handled her too roughly. “That’s right. Just a light rap. Very good, young man. Just that way.” Vincent reached inside and fumbled around a bit. His arm went inside the same distance as the girl’s had when she checked the hat. Vincent made a show of pawing around for something inside, like an old lady searching for Tic Tacs at the bottom of her purse. Then he grinned, a showman’s expression, and his eyes popped open in dramatic flair. Vincent pulled a rabbit out of the hat. Murph and his girl oohed and aahed, swooning like teenage girls at a boy band concert. But the third wheel frowned, staring suspiciously at the white rodent. His nostrils flared as if he smelled something rotten about this whole thing. “Lame,” he commented. “That is the same thing I’ve seen a hundred times. It’s the oldest trick in the book!” “Oh, I don’t know if it is the oldest,” Vincent opined, “but it is tried and true. Not as flashy and loud as you young people prefer nowadays?” “You only pulled a bunny out of a hat,” the third wheel sneered. “My gramma could have done that trick a hundred years ago.” “You want to see something epic?” Vincent asked. “Epic,” he agreed. “Yeah.” “Me too,” said Murph’s girl. Again with the me-too. Murph was too boozed to form a full response. He managed a clumsy nod. Vincent let the bunny go, and it hopped down Ningúno Lane in the opposite direction of the hill. He twirled the hat in a theatrical flourish and held it out once again for the third wheel to tap with the cane. This time the undergrad knew his role. Tap tap tap. “You may want to step back,” Vincent warned. The trio of young drunkards took a step back on rubbery legs. Vincent reached into the hat. This time he pushed his arm farther into the opening. He smiled at the students, gave a wink. His arm went in even more. He pushed his tailored sleeve into the top hat all the way up to his shoulder. The girl’s eyes grew as big as a werewolf’s. “Impossible,” she whispered. “You ain’t seen nothing yet,” Vincent answered. Vincent yanked. Hard. The object in the hat was stubborn. It had slept for a thousand years, and waking was a ponderous endeavor. Vincent had the thing by the tail. With a final violent yank, he drew the contents of the hat out through the small orifice like an obstetrician pulling a newborn from the birth canal. This baby was as ugly as a troll and as angry as a poltergeist. As big as any beanstalk giant. Rearing a scaly head in rage, the dragon vomited fire into the twilit sky. “Mama,” Murph managed to mumble before the dragon noticed the marinated morsel. It snapped its beak over the big football player. The dragon’s mouth was a kiln, and Murph melted in a matter of moments; boiling blood and liquified bones slid down the gullet. Murph’s girl and the third wheel screamed like toddlers and turned to run for their lives. The dragon pivoted its head on a serpentine neck and scooped them up from the side and its jaws snapped shut on the main parts of the undergrads, leaving behind two rolling noggins and two pairs of trendy tennis shoes, the smoldering stumps of their feet included. The half-dozen drunkards standing stunned along the street scattered, screaming. Vincent looked at the dragon beside him: wet scales glowed from the streetlights, intense eyes roamed the avenue for further prey, and smoke issued from flared nostrils. Demonic wings stretched and threatened to fly. “Not yet,” Vincent told the creature. “We need to visit an old acquaintance. Afterward, there will be plenty more to eat.” Vincent looked up Ningúno Lane to the house high on the hill.

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Meet the Author

Edward Newton lives in Florida and enjoys few things more than the beach. An accomplished author, he received the Robert L. Fish Memorial Award from the Mystery Writers of America for the Best First Short Story. His previous works include Horrorfrost, a chilling tale, as well as several published short stories. Edward spent a year traveling the continental United States and found something intriguing everywhere he went—this country is an amazing and fascinating place. His heart is his family and he couldn’t do any of this without his wife Treina and his amazing kids Kobe, Gage, Oliver, and Bennett.

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Title: Wildflowers

Author: Hayden Winston

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 08/30/2021

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 61800

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, bisexual, cisgender, contemporary, family drama, friends-to-lovers, coming of age, coming out, #ownvoices, tearjerker

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Description

Once he left for college, nothing could convince Ansel Wallis to return to his sleepy little hometown of Hunter, CA—except the passing of his beloved grandfather that is. Although Ansel plans to drop by the funeral and head right back to his life on the East Coast, he quickly finds himself forced to contend with past demons, long-brewing family tensions, and unexpected romantic feelings. As secrets unravel around him, Ansel spirals out of control. Just when things begin to settle, he learns just how fragile life can be.

Excerpt

Wildflowers Hayden Winston © 2021 All Rights Reserved You breathe and the city seems to breathe with you. It feels like the ardent touch of a lover, cool and electric on your skin. Raindrops threaten to fall from dark grey clouds that hover in the sky like peak-less mountains. Sweaters, jackets, umbrellas get pulled out, tucked on—a choreographed dance. You sigh and the city sighs with you. Everyone is moving, flooding the streets like ants at a discarded picnic. It feels like the touch of something cosmic, for this all to come together the way it does. Even if you decided to stop, you could not change it. Someone, somewhere, would stop along with you. It is inescapable. Even when you die—someone, somewhere has died along with you. As he stood over the open casket containing what was once his very alive grandfather, that concept was all that Ansel Wallis focused on. How many other people in the world are burying their granddads today? Since the casket had not yet been lowered into its freshly dug grave, Ansel took some time to pay his final respects. He had never been one to emote in front of a large crowd (much like his late granddad), so he had spent most of the funeral service thinking quietly to himself and consoling relatives. Now that he and his grandfather were finally alone, Ansel reached out to place a single orchid onto the elder Wallis’s lifeless body. Peering at said body intently, Ansel noticed how his grandfather’s hands had changed. Whether bringing in a mountain of groceries, carrying one of Ansel’s sisters in each arm, or tossing Ansel up in the air, William Wallis’s hands were always rugged and full of exuberance. Now, they appeared different, alien almost. The skin on them lacked luster; the gold ruby signet ring William had usually worn on his right pinky was gone, as was the wedding band that adorned his left ring finger. Maybe it was the absence of these rings, or the absence of life in him altogether, but in that moment William’s hands were small, naked, feeble even as they lay clasped serenely above his waist. And it wasn’t just his hands: the invisible shadow of death dwarfed William’s entire body. Mind you, that was no easy feat. At six foot-two and a hundred eighty-two pounds, the man had quite literally been larger than life. Add to his size, a strong jaw, charisma, and a deep, booming voice, and you had the perfect recipe to command anyone’s attention. He kept an entire room in line with a mere look and incited them to dance all the same. Now he lay motionless, all-seeing eyes closed tight, voice forever muted. Ansel also noticed his grandfather’s complexion was different. Though Ansel and his grandfather had shared the same rich dark, brown skin tone in life, the mortician had heavily powdered William’s visage. In death, his face was several shades lighter than the skin on his hands. The mahogany casket gleamed in the sunlight, reminding Ansel of the way their dining table had gleamed growing up, after his mother had finished applying a vigorous waxing. It was May 25. Ansel only knew the date with certainty, as exactly three days earlier his sister Regina had called to inform him of their grandfather’s fatal stroke. He couldn’t believe the news at first. William was Ansel’s last living grandparent and the closest thing Ansel had known to a father since he was twelve years old. Ansel’s actual father, William’s lone son, had died in a horrific car crash shortly after Ansel completed junior high. Losing his father had absolutely devastated Ansel, and losing his grandfather hit as hard. Following the death of Ansel’s dad, his grandfather had stepped in to help raise Ansel and his sisters. William had made so much of an impact that his loss compelled Ansel to return home for the first time in nearly two and a half years. He’d taken the redeye from Philadelphia and had barely slept since getting off the plane. He had landed in town in time to change into a black suit and navy tie for the funeral service. He felt trapped in a guilt-laden fog the entire way through. He’d promised himself that he was going to visit when he first learned his grandfather had fallen ill, but he had never followed through. Ansel would make plans to fly home for the weekend, then reschedule. He told himself he’d go next weekend, or the next time he got a chance. His granddad had moved into the house with his mother, and she’d taken care of him with the help of a part-time nurse. Ansel had made excuse after excuse, putting the visit off the way we all do with daunting tasks, until inevitably time ran out. Ansel turned away from the casket and headed to the other end of the cemetery, where the exit lay. He crossed the street to where an old gothic-style Anglican Church stood. The air was thick, and the heat devoured Hunter, California, stronger than any other summer prior. Ansel stood at the wrought-iron gate that enclosed the courtyard behind the church. He placed a hand on the smooth metal bars feeling along the decorative inlay. Like all good West Indian families, the Wallises had regularly attended church for most of Ansel’s childhood. And for most of his childhood, Ansel had thought nothing of the ritual, until, of course, his dad died. All he could do after his father’s funeral was lie flat and stare at the ceiling. His body and mind had felt completely shrouded in an unshakeable haze, a deep, dense, darkness.

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Meet the Author

Hayden is a Black, bisexual, novelist, poet and activist. His work draws on his experiences as a QPOC and the child of West Indian immigrants. His goal is to expose life’s most jarring elements while promoting self-exploration and self-love. Originally from Los Angeles, he currently resides in Northern California with his husband.

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Reckless
Janet Elizabeth Henderson
(Benson Security, #1)
Publication date: July 24th 2016
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense

If the mission doesnt kill him, his sexy partner just might!

Dimitri Raast and Megan Donaldson have a common enemy—the head of an organisation that specialises in human trafficking and sexual slavery. They have similar motivation—Dimitris sister was taken by the organisation, and Megans sister is threatened by it. They have the same goal—eliminate their enemy and save their sisters. Given they have so much in common, you would think working together would be a piece of cake.

You would be wrong.

While Dimitri brings skills and experience from years as a US army ranger to their partnership, Megan brings a background in failed career choices and an ability to cause trouble wherever she goes. Yet, even with so much at stake, Dimitri cant resist Megans particular brand of crazy. Shes wild, shes sexy and shes fearless. An irresistible combination for a man who lives his life completely in control. Now, after almost a year with one all-consuming focus, Dimitri finds himself torn between rescuing his sister and protecting the woman he wants from herself.

Before she gets them both killed.

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EXCERPT:

Rachels laughter was still ringing in Megans ears hours later as Dimitri navigated their car through central Londons traffic.

I dont like being bait.” Even though that was exactly what she was.

Youre not bait. Youre my partner. Were in this together. You saving your sister. Me saving mine. Partners.” To his credit, Dimitri even managed to keep a straight face while he said it.

They were stuck in the endless traffic around Piccadilly Circus. Why is this called a circus anyway? I dont get it. It isnt a square, or a roundabout, so I can understand that the town planners wouldnt want to call it that. But circus, that makes no sense at all.” She turned in her seat to face Dimitri. Do you think there was an actual circus based here at some point?” She couldnt see it. The grand Victorian buildings, with their white stone facades and weird little turrets and domes, didnt look like the sort of place youd house animals.

Can we focus on the job?” Dimitri swerved around a double decker bus and into Shaftesbury Avenue, the home of London theatre.

I came down here to see a play once, when I was in secondary school,” Megan said. Shakespeare. I cant remember which one. I was more interested in getting the attention of Hamish McIntosh at the time.” She remembered the kiss theyd managed to sneak in, in the theatre foyer when the teachers werent looking. Good times. Now Hamish was a farmer up near Aberdeen and Megan was bait.

She spotted a large banner over a theatre. Helen Mirren and Libby Collins are doing a play.” With a grin she turned to Dimitri. When this is all over we need to go. Theyre two of my all-time favourite actresses. Helen Mirren especially.”

Who?”

Seriously? How can you not know who Helen Mirren is? Shes like acting royalty.” She gaped at him. Youre one of those guys, arent you? I should have realised.”

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, irritated with traffic, and probably with her. What guys?”

Poor ignorant man, he needed her help. Guys fall into two categories. Die Hard and Star Wars.”

Youre making this shit up.”

The Star Wars guys watch everything sci-fi, think theyre intellectuals and can quote comic books. The Die Hard guys think movies ended with John McClane.”

A sceptical look was all she got for her efforts to educate the guy. Thats it? Comic-Con geeks and John McClane wannabes?”

She waved a hand. Im over simplifying. The point is, youre a Die Hard guy. Prove me wrong. Name a movie youve seen that was made after Die Hard.”

Honestly, she could almost smell rubber burning while he thought about it. At last, he grinned in triumph.

Die Hard 4,” he said.

Author Bio:

Janet is a Scot who moved to New Zealand fifteen years ago. Among other things, shes been an artist, a teacher, a security guard at a castle, a magazine editor, and a cleaner in a drop in center for drug addicts (NOT the best job!). She now writes full-time and is working on her 19th book. Her books have won several awards, including the Daphne du Maurier award for excellence in mystery and suspense. When she isnt living in her head, she raises two kids, one husband, and several random animals. She survives on chocolate and caffeine.

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