Release Blitz

Various Intentions

Various Intentions by AE Lister

Book 3 in the Persuasions series

Word Count: 57,484 Book Length: NOVEL Pages: 240



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Book Description

  When best-laid-plans fall apart, all you can do is pick up the pieces—and host a gallery exhibit. Nic Walker and Vincent Blake lead charmed lives—or so thinks their neglected friend Juno. But when Juno’s plans come crumbling down, it’s their boyfriend Charles who reaches out to get Nic to help. Nic, Vincent, Matteo and even Taylor are there with solid plans for assistance, including an emergency art exhibit called Electric Dreams. Amid an unexpected revelation about Matteo’s past, a surprising romantic development in Daphne’s life and a personal challenge of Nic’s, the gang comes together to help their friends and demonstrate what real loyalty looks like. Nobody ever said life was easy, but sometimes a challenge can bring out the best in people—and remind you of the true meaning of friendship. Reader advisory: This book contains public nudity. It is best read as book three in a series.


Staking out your pseudo-child on their last day of exams for their final year in high school was a parental right-of-passage. And if it wasn’t, it should have been. “Has he texted you?” I asked Vincent, as we waited in the car for Taylor to emerge from the red brick building. “Not yet,” Vincent said, leaning forward to keep an eye out. “He was planning to catch the bus home, so I want to make sure we don’t miss him.” “There he is,” Matteo said with composure from the back seat. Taylor had burst forth from the double doors of the alternative secondary school and bent down to tie his shoe, his puffy blue jacket unzipped. “I can’t believe he wears runners in winter,” I said. “He’s going to fall and break his little neck.” I reached past Vincent and slammed the middle of the steering wheel, causing the horn to blast and Taylor to spasm and glare at the source of the alarming sound. Vincent had lowered the window and now leaned his head out. “That was Nic. Blame him.” Taylor made a gesture of resignation as he stood and ambled to the car. “What are you doing here?” “Why aren’t you wearing boots?” I asked. He ignored me. Matteo leaned forward from the back seat. “It’s your last high school exam, Taylor. We’re taking you out for supper.” I leaned over Vincent, ignoring his long-suffering expression. “We have reservations at Moxies. Not super fancy, I know, but the servers are hot and I know you—” “Yes! I love Moxies!” Taylor pumped the air and opened the back door of the car, passing his backpack to Matteo then sliding in beside my other romantic partner. “Hi, Dad. I mean, Dads.” “I’m not your dad,” Vincent said, starting the engine and pulling into the road. Vincent was Taylor’s cousin and my live-in boyfriend. Matteo had insinuated himself into the relationship just after Taylor had joined the household to escape his uber-religious parents. “You act like my dad. And it’s just easier to call all three of you ‘Dad’.” “Fine.” Vincent shrugged. “Whatever.” “But who’s your Daddy, Taylor?” I said, waggling my brows. Taylor and I had a weird relationship. “Ew, gross.” I smirked at him. “You used to be intrigued by me and what I got up to with the other dads in private. What happened?” He made a face. “I got a glimpse of the reality. God, I almost threw up in my mouth just now, thinking about it.” “Careful,” I said. “Why? You gonna punish me?” “I’m sure I can think of something not sex-related to make you watch your tongue, brat.” “Matteo, Nic is being mean to me,” Taylor said, opening a bottle of water he’d pulled from his bag and tipping it to his lips. “Don’t bring me into this,” Matteo sighed. “You’re in this car, aren’t you?” “Yes, and I’m starting to wish I wasn’t.” “Nice. That’s really nice. Don’t you want to wish me a happy graduation?” Taylor said, snuggling into Matteo, who put an arm around him and kissed the top of his head. “Of course. Happy graduation, Taylor.” “That’s assuming you passed the exam,” I pointed out. Taylor narrowed his eyes at me in the rearview mirror. “I passed. You think I want to spend another minute in high school? I’m already finishing six months late.” Vincent glanced at his younger cousin in the back seat. “You’ve worked hard, and you should be proud of yourself.” Taylor blushed and smiled shyly. “Oh, pish. You know, I don’t want to live with you all forever.” I put a hand to my heart. “Taylor, you wound me.” “No offense, but I’d like to move out on my own at some point. Not yet, though.” “Of course. But you’d better plan to come for dinner with your dads once a week, at least,” I muttered. I’d been the last person to think I’d want a teenager in the house, and now I couldn’t imagine our lives without Taylor. Taylor cuddled up next to Matteo and kissed his cheek. “For Matteo’s cooking? You bet. Even if Vincent cooks. But if Nic cooks…” “Watch yourself, little one.” I laughed, because he was right about my failed attempts at putting together appealing meals, on the rare occasions I’d tried. Most days Matteo cooked dinner, and if he couldn’t, Vincent or Taylor did. I was last on the list for a reason. Matteo had come to us when Vincent had injured his hand, and Daphne had suggested someone to help with the cooking and domestic duties. We’d then invited Matteo into our bedroom and things had progressed from there. Now the three of us were in a committed poly relationship with Taylor to look after, and I’d never been happier. “Oh please, you’ve been threatening to give me a spanking since I moved in. But I think you’re worried you’d like it too much.” “Taylor,” Vincent warned. “There are many different ways I can make your life miserable, Taylor. Don’t tempt me.” Verbally sparring with Taylor had become a daily diversion, and I’d miss it when he finally did move out. Moxie’s had a booth waiting for us. We took off our winter jackets and hung them on the nearby hook. Just before Vincent slid onto the bench, I nudged him in the ribs. “Hey, remember what we did in the bathroom the last time we were here?” As I’d expected, a blush rose in his cheeks, and he glanced at the others to see if they’d heard. Matteo avoided his gaze while fighting a smile, and, to my amusement, Taylor looked shocked. He leaned over the table, his eyebrows raised. “A public bathroom?” I shrugged. “We were alone for most of it.” “Most of it?” Taylor sputtered and sat down, shaking his head. “God, you guys are turning me into a prude. I’m the one who’s supposed to be fucking people in bathrooms. I’m eighteen and horny and—” “I didn’t fuck Vincent in the bathroom,” I said calmly. “Oh. Okay,” Taylor said. “Good.” He pretended to focus on the menu, but he kept glancing up at us, and I knew it was killing him to pretend he wasn’t curious as hell. “Can we order, please?” Vincent said, with some embarrassment. I scanned the menu. “Of course. I’m going to order extra aioli with whatever I’m getting—because there’s two of you, now.” I winked at Matteo. Taylor stood up. “I’m going to the bathroom.” He pointed a finger at me. “You stay where you are.” Matteo and Vincent glared at me while Taylor headed for the men’s room. “What?” “This is supposed to be a celebration of Taylor finishing his high school credits,” Matteo said gently. “Not a confessional for all the kinky things you’ve done to Vincent.” I shrugged. “I mean, all the kinky—” Matteo pushed his knife forward slightly. “But please do share the details with me later.” “Oh, God,” Vincent moaned, covering his face. I finger-gunned Matteo. “You got it.” When Taylor came back, I apologized and offered to have his guitar restrung as penance. “Don’t be dumb. It’s fine.” Taylor nodded at Vincent. “It’s kind of worth my own cringe to see Vincent so embarrassed, when I know the kinky bastard was fully on board with whatever happened.” “Oh, and, Taylor?” “Yeah?” I pointed out of the window. “See that silver Honda?” Taylor focused on the car that sparkled in the late evening sunshine. “Yeah?” “That’s your real graduation present.” “Oh, that’s hilarious,” Taylor said, turning back as Matteo placed a Honda fob on a rainbow key ring onto the table in front of him. He looked at it and scooped it up in his fingers. “What the fuck is this? Is this some kind of a joke? I’m going to kill you guys.” “It’s not a joke,” Vincent said. “The car’s yours,” I confirmed, sitting up straighter. “It’s a couple of years old, but there’s barely any mileage on it. Vincent had it detailed so it’s shiny and clean, inside and out, although it won’t stay that way with all the winter slush on the roads.” Taylor stared at the fob in his hand. Then he looked at the car through the window. Then he looked at me with shining eyes and a tremulous lip. “Really?” he whispered, as if he couldn’t quite believe it. Matteo put an arm around him and kissed him on the cheek. “You deserve it. You’ve worked hard and you’ve helped out at the house, too. You’re almost as good a cook as me, now.” Taylor stared at the Honda device for another few seconds. “Oh my God. What! A car? A car!” He slid out of the booth and started leafing through the coats for his jacket. “I want to see it!” “I’ll take you,” Vincent said. “Nic, can you please order for me? You know what I like.” He took his jacket from the hook and passed Taylor his. “I certainly do. What do you want to eat, Taylor?” “I don’t care. Order me anything,” he said, shoving his arms in the sleeves of his blue puffer jacket and racing out of the restaurant with Vincent on his trail. “That was a success,” Matteo said, smiling and pretending to look over the menu, although we ate here so often that I was sure he already knew what he was going to order. “It was a good idea, Nic.” “Honestly, having only my car between the four of us was becoming a problem, even though you don’t drive. Now that Taylor has his own, we don’t have to worry about not having a means of transportation while he’s out galivanting.” We watched Taylor circle the car while Vincent pointed out certain things, then he opened the driver’s door and slid inside. Vincent leaned on the door, laughing and grinning. He glanced into the restaurant and gave us a thumbs-up. “He’s worked so hard, and now he’s graduated high school. He’s got a job lined up and a plan to attend college in the fall. He’s a good kid, Matteo.” I put my chin in my hand. “I never thought I wanted to be a dad, but it seems to come naturally with Taylor.” Matteo grinned. “It’s nice that we can split the responsibility three ways.” “It is. Absolutely. I’m starting to think poly relationships should be the standard, especially in this economy.” When Vincent brought Taylor back inside, the kid slid onto my lap and gave me the tightest hug, regardless of the audience. “Thank you so much, Nic. I love it. It’s perfect.” He was rosy and cold from being outside. I hugged him back, then nudged him off. “I’m glad you like it. You deserve it. But we have to sit down and go over some rules when we get home.” “Sure. Okay.” “And you need to give your other daddy a hug, because the car is from all of us.” Taylor hung up his jacket again, slid into the booth beside Matteo and wrapped him in his arms. “Thank you, Favorite Dad. You are the best.” Matteo chuckled, and I pretended not to hear the endearment. Matteo was probably Taylor’s favorite. He was just so ‘Dad-like’—forthright and steady—whereas Vincent and I were more scattered and impulsive. Taylor worked hard to contain himself through the meal, because he was dying to drive his ‘new’ car. So we didn’t order dessert, and Vincent went with Taylor in the new car while I drove Matteo back to our place. We beat them home and waited outside the front door for Taylor to pull in. When he got out of the driver’s side, he was beaming. “So? How does it drive?” I asked. “Like a fucking dream,” Taylor replied. “Thank you, guys, so much. It’s amazing.” I wagged my finger at him. “No driving drunk or high. And you still have to be home by midnight if you’re not sleeping at Riley’s.” “Fine.” “And no texting while driving.” “Duh.” We went inside, and Matteo put on a pot of tea while Taylor phoned his boyfriend. “Hello, babe,” Riley answered, on speaker. “I got a fucking car for graduation!” Taylor yelled into the phone. “What? No way!” Riley replied. “You lucky ass.” Taylor laughed. “New car?” Riley said. “Nah, second-hand. But almost new. A Honda Civic. Silver. Wait, I’ll show you.” Taylor got up and headed out of the door. “Put on a jacket!” I said, as the door slammed behind him. I rolled my eyes. “Well, the car was a hit,” I said, leaning back on the sofa. “Were you worried?” Vincent said with a smile. “Not really. Cars are generally an impressive gift.” My phone vibrated, and I fished it out of my pocket, knowing who it was by the tones of Sympathy for the Devil that invaded the silence. “Hey, Daf. What’s up?” I said, bringing it to my ear. “Did you give Sparky his car? What did he say? Was he surprised?” “He was surprised. Didn’t expect it at all. He repeated himself a lot. It was cute.” “Nice! I’m so glad he’s happy. He’s worked hard.” “Yes, he has.” “Look… I need you to meet me for coffee. Soon!” I recognized a certain something in the tone of Daphne’s voice—the same something that had been there when she’d called to persuade me to meet this ‘cute as shit’ client of hers who’d turned out to be Vincent. “Why?” “I can’t explain it over the phone.” “Well, Jesus. That’s a first.” I snorted. “Very funny. Can you meet me tomorrow?” “Well, I have to work…” “You get a lunch, don’t you?” “But I have marking to do.” “Oh, come on. I’ll buy you lunch.” “Well, in that case.” “I’ll come to your office. See you around noon.” “Sure. See you. Bye.” There was no point arguing. I’d end up agreeing anyway. Matteo brought in the tea and placed it on the coffee table. “What did Daphne want?” I stared at the phone, wondering that myself. “Well, I’m not sure. Wanted to know how Taylor reacted to his gift. But she’s making me meet her for lunch tomorrow for some reason.” Daphne was my longtime friend who worked as a professional Domme, had introduced me to Vincent and reamed out my ex-boyfriend after he’d started dicking me around. I loved her so much and would do anything for her, such as letting her set up a sex dungeon in my basement for almost a month the previous year. Daphne had a flair for the dramatic and intense, even outside of her lucrative business. Matteo, who had been a member of our rather unconventional relationship for a good eight months now, had gotten a promotion at his job. He was now a senior-level market researcher for a well-known software company. That kept him busy during the regular work week, but his evenings and weekends remained free so that he could come home, cook dinner for us and help with domestic chores. Vincent, who had been a full-time domestic service person for me since we’d moved in together, received a regular wage on top of his room and board, as well as enjoyable bonuses from Matteo and me, so that we made quite the spectacular and functional family unit. Taylor, who added to the overall atmosphere with his dry wit and explicit humor, had thrived under our admittedly neglectful care. He was a young adult now and disappeared most evenings into his room or went out with his boyfriend and other peers. But when he did grace us with his presence, he was respectful and cheerful, and I wondered how we had lived without him. We knew it was only a matter of time before he moved out on his own, or in with Riley, but now that he had his own car to take back and forth, he seemed content to keep things as they were, which made me happy in an unexpected way. I’d never wanted children, but falling into a vague parenting schema with Taylor had been so natural and organic that it didn’t seem strange at all and fulfilled me in some obscure way. I tried not to second-guess it.

Choose Your Store First For Romance

About the Author

AE Lister

AE Lister/Elizabeth Lister is a Canadian non-binary author with a vivid imagination and a head full of unique and interesting characters. They have published 10 books, one of which received an Honorable Mention from the National Leather Association – International for excellence in SM/Leather/Fetish writing. “Sensual and visceral BDSM.” – Find out more about AE Lister at their website, and follow them on Instagram and Patreon.


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New Release


Unkinked by M.C. Roth

Book 2 in the It’s a Kink Thing series

General Release Date: 20th September 2022

Word Count: 74,785 Book Length: SUPER NOVEL Pages: 275



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Book Description

Two broken men. One secret addiction. No turning back. When Derreck stumbles upon Maddy, who is sitting in his car and nearly sweating to death under the summer’s sun, he is at his breaking point. But Maddy is just as lost, searching for a Dom he only knows by name and waiting in his car outside the club Unkinked on the tiny chance that the Dom might find him. When it is revealed that Derreck is the man Maddy has been searching for from the very beginning, it seems fate couldn’t get any sweeter. Derreck invites Maddy into Unkinked as his guest, with the promise of the pain that Maddy so desperately craves. A scene that should have been simple opens Maddy’s mind to a new world and community that aren’t riddled with guilt or judgment. Derreck knows he can’t let his sub slip away, but Maddy is keeping secrets from his new Dom—secrets that could change their relationship forever Reader advisory: This book features pain play, edge play and knife play. One character has a history of addiction and self-harm.


Derreck killed his car’s engine, letting his eyes fall shut as he leaned back against the leather seat. He could barely keep his eyes open as exhaustion pulled at him, sinking into his weary bones until his frame was thinly stretched. The seat was comfortable enough that he could almost imagine himself drifting off to the sound of gentle ticking as the Mustang slowly cooled. The air conditioning faded, draining his hope for restful peace as sweat beaded on his forehead. Wiping it away, he let out one last sigh before he opened the door. Even warmer air coated him as he stepped onto the pavement, his sweat drying under the sun almost instantly. A single shriveled maple on the street hung limp, its leaves barely managing to hold on as the sun baked them black. He rubbed his eyes as his shoes kicked up enough dust to blind an army within a few steps. Stumbling on the curb, Derreck managed to catch himself on the lamp post that jutted out of the edge of the sidewalk. His palm burned as it touched the heated surface, a gasp pushing through his lips. Usually it wouldn’t bother him—the pain. It was a part of life that he could easily ignore or twist into something much better—but not when he’d gone weeks without a decent night’s sleep. He’d thrown himself into his work, pulling more hours than anyone else, all to avoid the enthralling eyes of the sub that haunted his dreams. If only it had worked. “Are you okay?” He turned toward the voice as it trickled into his thoughts. The street was empty. Even the plant that hung from the lamp post was nothing more than a few dried twigs and a bunch of dehydrated pansies. He paused, raising his hand to block his eyes from the sun’s glare. The voice had sounded close, but he couldn’t spy anyone as he looked around before noting the white door of his destination and the Office Depot across the street. I must be worse off than I thought. There was usually no one to see him coming and going in this part of town, which was exactly how he liked it. There were a few other cars parked along the curb, and he recognized them all except the red Toyota next to him. He huffed, ready to turn away, before something caught his eye. The Corolla’s windows were down, the sun baking the exposed gray-cloth interior with heat waves escaping through the openings. It wasn’t a car that should have had its windows down in a place with nobody around. Derreck took a step toward the car before peering through the passenger window. In the driver’s seat was a man who must’ve been one step away from heatstroke, especially with his black sweater that probably soaked up warmth that much quicker. The interior was tidy, except for a few empty bottles of water stacked on the passenger seat. Derreck had chosen a baby-blue tank top and jeans himself, but he wished he could pull his tank over his head and dunk himself in the nearest swimming pool. Leaning over the side of the car, Derreck touched the hood, hissing as heat lanced over his palm. I am going to be useless tonight. Shaking his hand, he leaned down to get a better look at the driver. The driver was flushed, his face a healthy pink and his brown hair soaked with sweat so thick that it looked nearly back. His sweater clung to him, the fabric dark in almost every spot on his rail-thin body. The man gave Derreck a broad smile, sending a small wave as Derreck peered into the steaming interior. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” said the man, leaning back in his seat and adjusting the strap over his chest. “I saw you stumble and wanted to make sure you were okay.” Okay? Derreck couldn’t keep the disbelief off his face. He didn’t even have the energy to turn the question back at the guy who was sweating his ass off in a car when it was sweltering, even in the shade. He didn’t want to know. “I’m good, thanks,” said Derreck, slapping the top of the car as he turned away. You should ask him if he’s okay. Derreck bit down on the urge as it rose behind his teeth. He had too much on his plate, and he couldn’t take one more ounce of anyone else’s shit before he exploded. But how many times had he stopped things just before they had been about to go to shit? Too many to count. “You waiting for someone?” Derreck asked, clenching his fists as he paused on the street. The sun soaked into his shoulders, fresh sweat gathering at the base of his neck. Sweet air conditioning was only a few steps away, but this man was so much worse off than him—sitting in his car…in a fucking sweater. “Uh, yeah.” The man looked up and down the street once before he settled his gaze on the familiar blank door that called to Derreck like the sweetest siren. Beyond those doors was relief and relaxation that couldn’t be rivaled by anything else in the world. Too bad there wasn’t a bed meant for just sleeping. The door to the club Unkinked had never been labeled, which kept a lot of pointed fingers from finding it. This man seemed to know what was inside the same way Derreck did. Someone’s sub? The guy didn’t look like a Dom, although looks were as deceiving as book covers. Derreck had seen twinky Doms control guys twice their size—putting them on their knees and making them beg usually did the trick. Derreck had it easier. He looked his part of ruthless Dom, and no one in their right mind would ever ask him to be their sub. It would have been their last question with their own teeth in their head if they did. He turned away, heading to the door and pressing his hand against the cool surface. He could already feel the stress draining from his body, seeping into the beams of the place where his mind and body felt safest. All he needed was a bit of play and he would be set for the next week. If it were good enough, the high might even last a bit longer and he would be able to catch a bit of sleep. But his highs were becoming few and far between, and the last one had left him wanting—wanting to never step foot in his place of solace again, wanting to leave the lifestyle behind for good, wanting to be vanilla. He shuddered at the thought. After pulling his key card from his pocket, he tapped it against the door’s sensor, the light taking much too long to flip over to green before the lock slid back with a clunk. The security was necessary, as was the bouncer on the other side of the door and the dungeon master who was patrolling the club. It kept curious seekers from sneaking their way inside the place where people laid their hearts and souls out in the open. He nodded at the unfamiliar bouncer, giving him a quick once-over before thoroughly dismissing him. Derreck didn’t care if a sub was burly and thick or lean, because he’d long since mastered hitting a target with a touch of jiggle. But he couldn’t pull the bouncer away from his duties. The bouncer was the third fresh face he’d seen in as many months. The owner of Unkinked, Clint, must have been outsourcing his help for there to be so many unfamiliar faces—either that or maybe they got sick of hearing people fuck and not being able to join in. Derreck let out a sigh as the cool air trickled over his skin, his sweat turning into goosebumps as the summer heat was sucked away. He let his eyes fall shut as he took a deep breath. Earth and mold that always clung to him gave way to sex and desire, dredging up memories in an instant. He had thousands of memories of Unkinked, and some of them were the best days and nights of his life. The pull of desire lured him a step away from the door. The sharpness of vodka and rum tickled his nose as he stepped to the curtain. Am I drinking tonight? A drink meant no scene, and a scene was everything he needed. There was a subtle staleness to the curtains as Derreck trailed his fingers over the fabric, finally opening his eyes. He pushed them aside, taking in every detail of the dark interior. Three of the booths were occupied, all by Doms and subs whom he recognized. A few looked up as he entered, one sub blushing and looking back to the floor. Derreck kept his smirk to himself as he nodded to their Dom, Selina. She had allowed him to borrow her sub, after all. It hadn’t been nearly as interesting as he had hoped, but he’d still cherished the submission. The inside of the club was clean and still bright in the early hour—and was likely different than any newbie expected. There was a touch of nudity in the main area, as well as some rocking leather, but the best parts of the club were out of view. Hidden near the back was the entrance to the main stage and open play area, and tucked around the corner were nine private rooms that made even the most stoic Doms salivate. From the entrance, though, it could have been any other club, with booths along the wall and a bottle-rich bar with wooden stools for those who wanted to socialize and grab a few drinks. The virgin menu was even more robust than the alcoholic one, catering to the couples who wanted to play. He stepped to the bar, slipping into an unoccupied stool. Brennen was in the next stool over, bent over a shot glass that reeked of vodka and whiskey—a killer combination that Brennen usually stuck with. There were three more glasses strewn around him and his eyes were already glassy. He wouldn’t be playing, and he was a Dom anyway, which was something Derreck never tried to push. He had no desire to change a person’s identity, whether it was Dom or sub. Both positions demanded respect. “Hey, Derreck. It’s a hot one today,” said Brennen, looking up from his glass just long enough to ask. Derreck grunted, tapping the bar top. His nails were still crusted with dirt and clay. No matter how hard he scrubbed, they never seemed to come clean. Even the potato scrubber from the discount store hadn’t done the trick, although it had stung. He leaned against the bar as another wave of exhaustion settled over him. The murmur of voices was almost enough to send him straight to sleep, and the ease that always settled over him in Unkinked had him even closer. “You drinking tonight, Derreck?” asked Clint as he worked his way through the half-dozen others at the bar. Clint had started Unkinked with his husband, and after his husband had passed, he had taken full responsibility to keep it going. Derreck couldn’t imagine keeping the hours Clint did, along with bartending, organizing events and schedules, giving lessons in first-aid and the mountain of paperwork he must have. Besides the bouncer and the volunteer dungeon master, Clint worked alone, although there were many subs who offered volunteer service as well. Derreck blinked as he dropped his gaze to Clint’s hips when they swayed with each sauntering step when he moved closer. He was attractive and strong, with a wicked smirk that had caught Derreck’s eye more than once. Nodding his head, he peered back over his shoulder. Clint was so far off limits that Derreck shouldn’t have even been looking. One drink. One drink before the fun starts. Clint gave him a quick smile before reaching for a bottle of Jameson. “The usual?” Derreck shook his head, eyeing Clint up as he passed under the bar’s light. Clint looked tired and from more than just lack of sleep. He looked the way Derreck had felt for the past few weeks. It was another thing that Derreck just didn’t have the energy to fix. Clint was his friend. Maybe not in a traditional sense, but Clint had been there for him more than once. In return, Derreck usually had his back. But it had been weeks since Derreck had stepped inside the bar. Things had obviously not changed while he had been trying to convince himself he could stay away. “Give me a shot of Jäger.” Derreck leaned his elbows on the bar top, sagging as he took in his surroundings. Ask him if he’s okay. He looked back to Clint and to the tightness around his eyes. Not here. “Must’ve been a shit day,” said Clint as he set the bottle of Jameson down and reached for the Jägermeister instead. His grip was steady, and the liquid didn’t slosh over the side as he poured Derreck his shot. Maybe I’m just projecting. “Shit week,” said Derreck, surprised that Clint didn’t mention his absence. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Clint was one of the most intuitive men he knew, and he must’ve seen the strain in Derreck’s every movement. Derreck’s callused palms were red and blistered, his skin dry and still dirty-looking, despite his lengthy shower. His muscles burned, even as he raised his glass to his lips and tossed back the shot. The liquid seared a path down his throat, turning him inside out as it sank into him. It eased the ache in the rest of his body for an instant. A bit of rain would have gone so much further than the shot, though. “You starting a tab?” Clint grabbed the empty shot glass, setting it on a tray beneath the lip of the bar. “I’ll stop at one.” Derreck pushed off the stool, heading deeper into the club without looking back at Clint. If he’d stayed any longer, he would have had to ask Clint if he was okay. Letting two people down in one day. Must be a record. He grimaced as his gut throbbed with every movement. Jäger had probably been a poor choice. He scoped out the bar a second time, slowing his stride until his stomach calmed. His gaze lingered on a couple—two subs—as they kissed over their table. Kristie and Katie. It was too bad that they weren’t his type, because two subs were better than one. They needed a soft Dom, but he needed a sub to torture the fuck out of. There were a few other couples, despite the early hour. After dark was when the real sadists started to emerge from the shadows, but the lifers didn’t care what time of day it was. Derreck was a lifer, too, he supposed, and after more than fifteen years, he should have known that his life was nothing without kink. He circled the bar area again. There was nothing happening on the main stage or open floor, and he had no desire to just watch if one of the kink room doors were open. He spied a Dom who was reclined in the seating area outside of the rooms, her sub at her feet with his head across her shoe. From the blissed-out look on his face, he was still floating. Derreck needed something more than that. He needed them sobbing with euphoria in his arms after he fucked them up. It was the only way he was going to get a certain sub out of his thoughts. He clenched his hands into fists, the calluses on his palms like pebbles over his skin. His hands could do a lot of damage to a person, then dig a grave on a moonlit Tuesday. The damage was always consensual, but the grave…not so much. He slipped down the hallway of doors that led to kink rooms, which held more implements than any Dom or sub could ever ask for. He slid his hand over the engraved gold letters on his favorite room. Impact. Even the name made goosebumps burst over his skin and sent a shudder of need to his core. His cock stayed soft, as it usually did, except for those rare occasions when a sub managed to surpass his expectations. Like Nav. He closed his eyes, letting his hand rest against the carved surface. Nav had been introduced to him by a fellow Dom, and after their first scene together, he had gone straight home with his hands still aching from holding the flogger tight. Stepping in the shower, he had dropped his hand to his cock, jerking himself to hardness with Nav on his mind. But Nav wasn’t his in the loosest sense of the word, even though he still managed to haunt Derreck’s dreams. Nav had safeworded during their second scene together, then had fled back to his true Dom, Trick. The call of “yellow” still sounded in his ears as if it had only been yesterday. Sex was so rarely a part of life for Derreck, but during their first scene, he had watched Trick come as Nav had shot against the wall from Derreck’s beating alone. He wouldn’t have been a gay man if he hadn’t felt something. But Nav had belonged to Trick before the two of them had even realized it. Derreck had seen their looks and had chosen to ignore them, despite his better instincts. It had been a miscalculation that had added to his sleeplessness and had prompted him to steer clear of the club for weeks. He gritted his teeth, turning away from the closed door and pushing his way down the hall. He’d come to the club so he could forget his mistake and move the fuck on. The private rooms were all closed as he passed them, tracing his fingertips over each name. Play, Spoil, Calm, Wet. He wasn’t sure whether or not there were couples on the other side of each door, but the closed door meant that voyeurism was not welcome. I’m not welcome. He circled back to the main area, sliding into an empty booth, despite invitations from several tables that he passed. He didn’t pause for conversation, just tilted his head before he moved on to his own space. Rapping his knucks against the polished tabletop, he leaned back to survey the room once more. There was no one for him yet, but he was patient. He could spend hours staring at the same spec of dirt, letting his mind drift until he was content. Sitting in a comfortable chair with the hum of music and the smell of sex in the air was paradise in comparison. He looked up as the curtain to the entrance slid open and another couple stepped off the street and into his world. Derreck got a flash of the bouncer and a few others before the curtain fluttered back into place. The hum of conversation lulled against his eardrums. His chest did not squeeze when he spotted Nav tucked under Trick’s arm as they entered the club together. Trick’s tanned hand glowed against Nav’s pale, naked shoulder, a pair of tight boy shorts the only thing on Nav’s body. It wasn’t that Derreck was jealous of his friend, but there was a certain longing at seeing Nav that summoned his darker side. It wasn’t very often that Derreck could take himself in hand and come quickly, and a treat like Nav would have made any man salivate. Trick spotted him first, nodding from across the room before he gripped the back of Nav’s neck and pushed him to the ground. Nav had come a long way since Derreck had last seen him. Dropping to his knees, Nav didn’t seem to care how hard he struck the ground or how rough Trick jerked his head back by his hair. His eyes glazed over immediately, going deep without resistance. He was something special. Derreck shifted in his seat, trying to ease the tension in his gut. Nav—no, Trick’s sub—stayed on the ground as Trick strolled toward Derreck, giving him a smile as he approached. “Derreck.” Trick stopped at the edge of the booth, holding his hand out in an offering. Derreck took it, accepting the handshake at face value. Trick had grown a few calluses on his palm, the surface rougher than Derreck remembered. Working his sub hard. Good. Nav deserved someone who would put the effort in. “Maverick.” He squeezed once before he broke contact, smothering the urge to wipe his hand on his pants. Trick’s sweat on his palm was like a raw nerve, his touch buzzing under Derreck’s skin. “My slut has something to say to you, if you are agreeable to it,” said Trick, glancing back at Nav. Trick’s eyes were hard, despite the languid way he moved. He traced the room, eyeing someone up as they moved from a booth to the bar, passing close to Nav. Too close, apparently. Trick clenched his fist, his jaw going tight. Derreck paused, looking back at Trick’s sub. Nav had lowered his eyes to the floor, unmoving, despite the way his knees had to have been aching on the hardwood. Perhaps he had done something to not deserve a pillow—or perhaps he preferred it like that. Nav wasn’t beautiful in a traditional sense—too pale and soft to meet the stereotypical desires of most men—but Derreck had seen first-hand how alluring he was after a scene. Derreck valued that more than any beauty. He inclined his head, sliding his hand over the tabletop as he looked to Trick. “I’m agreeable.” His voice sounded more strained than he would have liked, but he’d buried too many people in one week to feel normal. Trick gave him a sharp look, probably seeing straight through him. I must look worse than I thought. Trick didn’t say anything, though, which made him a better friend than Derreck gave him credit for. Instead, he called his sub over, Nav crawling on all fours with his head lowered as he approached. Derreck slid his hand over the tabletop, Trick’s sweat on his palm spreading over the surface until he could no longer feel the edge of it sinking into his skin. It left a streaky mess on the polished surface, his fingerprints blatant beneath the light. Derreck looked up as Nav finally stopped his crawling and kneeled at his feet with his head bowed. His dark hair shone in the low light of the club, looking almost black against his pale skin. A purplish welt peeked through the waist band of his low-riding shorts and Derreck fought the urge to reach forward and press his fingertip to the bruise. “Speak,” said Derreck, keeping his voice quiet. Nav had a very particular brand of humiliation that he desired, and that brand name was Trick. Derreck was nothing to him. “I wanted to apologize, Sir,” said Nav, keeping his gaze pointed to the floor, despite his steady tone. “I was lying to myself, and to you, when I asked for a second scene. I should have never disrespected you, and I’m sorry for my behavior.” That…was unexpected. Derreck tilted his head, not fighting the smile that tugged at his lips. It was also a huge fucking relief. It had been a mistake, but maybe it hadn’t been his alone. A smidge of his exhaustion uncoiled, his lungs filling easier than they had in a long time. “Forgiven,” said Derreck, fighting the urge to keep his hands to himself for a second time. Trick, having no need to hold back, threaded his hand through Nav’s hair, tugging him so he had to crawl a step closer. “Thank you, Sir,” said Nav, tension visibly draining from his body. So good. Derreck turned his gaze away, swallowing down the words that started to rise. Nav was one of a kind, but Nav was not his. “Clint will be joining us for our scene,” said Trick, patting his sub on the top of his head. “You are welcome as well, of course.” Trick’s eyes darkened as he looked at his sub, and it wasn’t because of the low light. Derreck shook his head. That was not the type of torture he was after tonight. He had no desire to string himself along, gaze at Trick’s sub and imagine. “Slut, go get ready in our room. You know which one,” said Trick. Nav scurried away on his hands and knees, the bottom of his ass cheeks peeking through the hem of his shorts. Another small bruise caught Derreck’s eye and he licked his lips before forcing his gaze back to the table. Trick was staring at him, his eyes hard. “You’re my friend, Derreck, but I’ve never seen you this distant before—not with me, anyway. You haven’t been here in weeks and tonight…you aren’t yourself. I know you won’t ask for help, so I’m offering it.” Shit. Am I really that obvious? He swallowed the lump in his throat that had formed as soon as he’d seen Nav walk through the curtain. “It’s nothing. I just need to find myself a sub and let off some steam.” But will that be enough? It had been before, but Trick was right. He wasn’t himself and hadn’t been for some time. Even before Nav, things had been…off. Trick hummed before looking around the bar. “There’s only one sub who can take what you have to give right now. The offer stands. You can come, watch or get involved again if that’s what you need. I’m sure Nav would be open to the idea, too. He’s been kicking himself for weeks about what he did to you.” Not his fault. “He’s good for you,” said Derreck, turning his gaze back to the table. Maybe he wouldn’t stop at one shot tonight. His stomach churned at the idea, goosebumps breaking out over his skin. A smile cracked Trick’s face, his blue eyes glowing with the glee and something more. Trick had never looked at his previous partner like that, but Derreck had always wondered how their partnership had lasted so long when their kinks hadn’t aligned. Compromise maybe? “He is. He’s a good man and a good slut,” said Trick. “The best of both worlds,” said Derreck, his voice flat. Maybe Trick was right. There was no one in the club who could take what he had to give. And on a Wednesday afternoon, that wasn’t likely to change. His patience snapped and exhaustion settled over him again like a weighted blanket. He stood abruptly, leaving Trick behind as he headed for the door. Hopefully, the blond would understand. He’d seen enough of Derreck to know when to take it personally and when not to. Pushing the curtain aside, he grabbed the doorknob without acknowledging the bouncer who had jumped to his feet, sliding his cell phone back into his pocket. The bouncer opened his mouth once before snapping it shut, taking a step back as he looked at Derreck. Stepping outside, the sun instantly soaked into his skin, blanketing him in warmth and urging sweat from his body in seconds. The sun had barely moved in the sky, blazing down with what must have been record-breaking heat. He could barely feel his feet as he stumbled his way along the sidewalk to his car, stopping at the lamp post and leaning on it as he took a deep breath. The post seared through his shirt, heat bursting over his flesh until he thought he might erupt into flames. It did nothing to quell his exhaustion. He’d never let it get quite that bad before, but he’d never stayed away so long, either. He hadn’t wanted to face Trick or Nav or anyone else. He just wanted relief. The apology had given him a touch of respite but not enough to calm the restless energy in his core. “You sure you’re okay?” Derreck looked up and his gaze followed the sound of the voice. The guy was still sitting in his car, as if it hadn’t been almost an hour. He had pushed up one sleeve of his sweater, one thin and delicate wrist exposed, but the rest of his upper body was still covered with thick, black material. The flush on his cheeks and the sweat in his hair told of how hot he must’ve been, but he was making no move to remove his sweater. “Still waiting?” asked Derreck, looking back at the club entrance. None of the couples had been missing a third that he knew of. And no Dom would leave their sub in a hot car like he was some sort of oven-baked dog. No responsible Dom, at least. The man nodded, flicking his gaze to the door and back to Derreck quickly. His eyes had gone shiny, as if he was just managing to hold back tears. How long had he been there before Derreck had come to the club? How long would he wait? It pulled at what few heartstrings Derreck had, but it also spoke to his Dominant side. It pissed him the fuck off is what it did. He clenched his hands into fists, crossing his arms and staring down at the man in his car. “Who are they? I’ll go get them for you,” said Derreck. There was no way he was walking away with this guy still sitting in his car as he got closer and closer to heatstroke. “Oh.” The man dropped his gaze, the pureness of his submission pulling Derreck deeper into the strange thrall. His cheeks flushed brighter, sweat beading under his eyes. Perhaps it had been the wrong question. Some Doms insisted on titles, and Derreck would have no luck if the guy simply said ‘Sir’ or ‘Master’. “Describe what they look like,” said Derreck, taking a deep breath to keep the anger out of his voice. He was definitely kicking someone’s ass tonight—just not in the way he’d hoped. “I—I don’t know,” said the man, his gaze still fixed on his lap. “I only have his name. Someone—a friend online—gave me his name and said that he might be able to help me. They said he comes to this club, but I can’t get in without an invite.” “You can if you’re a guest,” said Derreck, letting out a sigh. This was just getting stranger and stranger. “Your friend can invite you as a guest, and you’ll have a temporary pass.” “Oh, they aren’t a member,” he said, finally looking up, but only for a moment. “They went to an open house event here years ago, but they don’t live in the city. I don’t know anyone with a membership.” It was a conundrum that had always bothered Derreck. Privacy came with the price of inaccessibility and exclusivity, especially for subs who were heartbreakingly shy. He would still take his privacy, though. The one-and-done kinksters could fuck off. He ran a hand over his scalp, scratching the short, tight curls. It was too fucking hot to think, and he had to get off the street before he passed out. “What’s the name, then? I can tell you if they are here,” said Derreck. He wouldn’t give away much, because if this guy was a stalker, which was quickly becoming a possibility, then he didn’t want to encourage him. “Oh, it’s… Let me grab my phone. I have it in there.” He fumbled with his pockets, finally sliding his phone out from the pouch in his sweater. Why the hell was he wearing so many layers? Derreck was getting warmer just looking at him. “I saved it in here, ’cause I’m terrible with names. The guy’s name is Derreck.” Derreck almost choked on his spit when he heard his own name. Cocking his head to the side, he dragged his gaze up and down the guy’s form one more time. His first impression had been pure madness, but he never was one to hold on to a first impression for long. He usually waited until the sixth before he really made up his mind. The guy was in shorts and flip-flops, which Derreck hadn’t noticed before. It couldn’t have been great for driving, but at least he wasn’t insane enough to wear long pants along with his sweater. His clothes were good quality but well worn, so he probably wasn’t out to try to kidnap Derreck. He didn’t stand a chance either way, unless he had a gun in his pocket. The man fiddled with his thumbs as Derreck watched him, the chewed edge of his nail vibrant with fresh blood. All his nails were like that—bitten past the quick to the delicate pink flesh beneath. “How did your friend say he could help you?” asked Derreck, eyeing the guy’s cell phone. It was a new model, fresh out of the store with a custom case. “I…” The man trailed off, bringing his thumb to his mouth and catching the vermillion edge with his teeth. A fresh droplet of blood oozed up, shining against his lip until he slowly dragged it away with his tongue. “I heard he could hurt me,” said the man, so quietly that Derreck had to strain to hear him. “I need someone to hurt me.” Pushing away from the post, Derreck circled around the car and pulled the door open with a jerk. The man’s eyes went wide and he drew back, shrinking into his seat as Derreck loomed over the car. “What’s your name?” asked Derreck, lowering himself into a squat. It left the man with a slight height advantage, hopefully easing some of his fear that had sprung up. Derreck reached for the man’s hand, pulling his thumb from his mouth. The flesh was burning beneath his palms, slick with sweat and clammy. “Maddy,” he said, letting out a sigh at the touch. There was no buzzing under Derreck’s skin or desire to wipe his fingers clean. It was the rare perfection that always seemed to elude Derreck when he needed it most. “And why do you want me to hurt you, Maddy?” asked Derreck, watching as Maddy’s eyes went wide with realization. “So I don’t hurt myself.”

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About the Author

M.C. Roth

M.C. Roth lives in Canada and loves every season, even the dreaded Canadian winter. She graduated with honours from the Associate Diploma Program in Veterinary Technology at the University of Guelph before choosing a different career path. Between caring for her young son, spending time with her husband, and feeding treats to her menagerie of animals, she still spends every spare second devoted to her passion for writing. She loves growing peppers that are hot enough to make grown men cry, but she doesn’t like spicy food herself. Her favourite thing, other than writing of course, is to find a quiet place in the wilderness and listen to the birds while dreaming about the gorgeous men in her head. Find out more about M.C. Roth at her website.


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Cover Reveal

Becca Seymour’s NO WRONG MOVES


Becca Seymour’s NO WRONG MOVES releases this October.Available for preorder!❤️ 𝗔𝗱𝗼𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝗣𝗶𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 🧡 𝗕𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗙𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀 💛 𝗛𝗼𝘁 𝗦𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗹𝗲 𝗗𝗮𝗱→ Amazon:ɴᴇ ʙᴀsᴋᴇᴛʙᴀʟʟ ᴘʟᴀʏᴇʀ ᴡʜᴏ’s ᴘɪɴɪɴɢ ғᴏʀ ʜɪs ʙᴇsᴛ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ. Oɴᴇ sɪɴɢʟᴇ ᴅᴀᴅ ᴡʜᴏ’s sᴄᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʀɪsᴋ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘ ɪɴ ʜɪs ʟɪғᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇs sᴇɴsᴇ. Tʜᴇʏ’ʟʟ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ᴍᴏᴠᴇs ɪғ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴀ ғᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ, ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ ᴘᴏssɪʙʟᴇ. Pining for your best friend sucks ass—and not the good kind of sucking. But I can’t back away, and I definitely can’t let go. Eddie Phelps is too damn important to me. He has my heart and soul. Well, he and his daughter, a ten-year-old who one day will run the world.It’s not like I can even blame Eddie for mixed signals or anything. He’s done everything right. He always does. Honestly, that’s part of his problem.But I won’t put pressure on him. That means it’s down to Eddie to see how freakin’ awesome a catch I am. I just have no idea how exactly I’ll get him to do that. Sure, I’m a professional basketball player. But once upon a time, so was he. It’s going to take something huge to get him to see beyond my age *cough immaturity cough*. But since Eddie isn’t one for making wrong moves, I’m not sure a grand gesture will work.That leads me back to pining, and hoping somehow, someway, he’ll see me as more than a joker. More than his best friend—even though I’m a kick-ass one. Maybe someday, he’ll know I’m exactly the person he needs to make the move on.❤️🧡💛💚💙💜 #coverreveal #BeccaSeymour #MMRomance #preorder 
Release Blitz

Release Blitz kit for Haydn by JJ Harper

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Release Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway: Haydn By JJ Harper

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Bar 28, Book 5


I’ll never find a boyfriend. Who would want me? I’m too shy, too geeky, too ugly. And I carry a truckload of baggage.

A few hookups, some quick groping in the dark, is all I’ve had, but I want more.

A man who takes over the reins every now and then. A man who tells me what to do and takes care of me.

Jonas is the man I’ve dreamt about. Quiet and funny, kind to patrons and staff alike. When his voice turns to steel, all I want to do is drop to my knees before him.

Too bad he’s my boss. No way would he be interested in me. And even if he is, can I trust him with my past?


I’ve given up on finding my man. My brothers found their happily ever after, and I’m happy for them. But it’s not in the cards for me. Believe me. I’ve tried. I’ve had boyfriends, but as soon as my instinct to control kicks in, they broke up with me.

One look at Haydn and I know he’s the one for me. A ray of sunshine, bubbling with energy, and so eager to please.

He has secrets he’s not willing to share. I’m a patient man, though. I’ve waited thirty-six years for the perfect man. I can wait until he trusts me and opens up to me.

Haydn is an MM romance featuring hurt/comfort, low angst, instant attraction, a bubbly geeky boy, and a man who likes to be in control. It’s book 5 in the BAR 28 series, but it can be read as a stand-alone. This book is based in the UK and is written in British English.

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My bank account was dangerously low. I needed a job, but every single one I’d applied for hadn’t amounted to anything. I hated to think it was because I was gay. I’d had enough of that already. Being out and proud wasn’t as easy as I’d expected it to be, and I had taken my fair bit of bullying. On the other hand, it could have been my size and stature that made me easy pickings. That was where Kieran had come in and become my friend. He was a popular, fit, and buff rugby player, not somebody I thought would ever save me. He’d dragged the thugs off me and kicked seven shades of shit out of them. We’d been best friends ever since. “Let’s go and get a drink.” Kieran picked up his empty plate and put it in the sink. “I can’t afford it.” Yeah, I was feeling sorry for myself, even though I wanted to go. “I’ll buy. Get your arse up and out of that chair. We’re going to get drunk.” He held out his hand, which I grabbed, and hauled me up. “I know just the place. Hot gay bartenders and great drinks.” I knew exactly which bar he meant: BAR 28. The guys there were gorgeous, and it wouldn’t hurt to stare at them for a couple of hours. Not that I would ever dare approach any of them. They were way out of my league. My curly hair tended to have a life of its own, my glasses made me look like a total nerd, and I was five seven and on the skinny side, so I always got IDed. None of these bartenders would look at me twice. The huge doorman must have recognised me because he didn’t ask me to prove my age. Instead, he gave me a wink and told me to have a good night. I tripped over my own feet, heat rushing from my neck to the tips of my ears. But even if he’d noticed, he didn’t show it. The place was packed, which didn’t surprise me. For the next hour, it was half-price drinks, so everyone was making the most of it. I weaved through the crowd, following Kieran to the bar, scooting between two behemoth-sized men, and made it to the long, highly polished mahogany bar. The men working behind the bar were all smiles as they joked and flirted with the customers. The tall, blond pony-tailed bartender leant over the bar and kissed a man with a big beard and a beanie hat. The look they shared was so private, so knowing and full of love. My heart squeezed. I wanted that so much. Kieran got our drinks, and we looked for a place to sit. As luck would have it, a couple stood up from a table for two. “There.” I pointed and made my way to it. “I’ve just heard something interesting,” Kieran said after we’d sat down. “They’re looking for another bartender. You should apply.” He took a sip of his drink. Was he crazy? “You’ve met me, right? How on earth could I fit in here? I can hardly reach over the bar top.” I shook my head. “Plus, they’re all so gorgeous. They wouldn’t want a geeky guy like me.” “You don’t see yourself the way everyone else does, Haydn. You’re always getting chatted up. Look, just apply. You need a job, and they need a new bartender. I’ll get an application form when I get the next drink.” I knew he wouldn’t let it drop. Besides, he was right. I needed to get working and soon. But I was sure it wouldn’t be in this bar. As the evening wore on, we were getting drunker and sillier, but I left with the application form in my pocket. The next morning, with a cup of strong, black coffee to perk me up after one too many last night, I studied the form. They were looking for someone to start immediately. Hours were negotiable, and the pay was good. The problem was that it was the start of the university year, so every Tom, Dick, and Harry would be looking for work. I walked back into town to drop the form off in person. I wanted to see what the bar was like in the daytime. We’d only ever been in the evenings. I’d spent a fair few Friday and Saturday nights in the club downstairs too. I loved living here and wanted to stay sharing a house with Kieran, but if I couldn’t get a job, I wouldn’t be able to afford the rent. The thought of a new town and new faces didn’t appeal to me. I pushed the door open. Low music and the buzz of chatter and laughter greeted me. Even though all the tables had filled up, the atmosphere was definitely more relaxed than at night, but just as inviting. How amazing would it be to work here. I forced my feet to slow down their bounce and walked to the bar, mustering up as much calmness as I could. The bartender was the gorgeous one I’d seen plenty of times before. Tattoos covered him, like, everywhere, yet they only enhanced how stunning he was. Add the high cheekbones, wide mouth, and dirty blond hair, and he was the total package of hotness. He looked me up and down, but not in an unkind way. “What can I get you?” “I wanted to hand this in.” I placed the envelope with the form on the bar. “It’s for the job.” I grinned. Hopefully, it came across as friendly, not weird. His eyes sparkled with humour. “I’ll make sure Jonas gets it.” “Thank you. Have a great day.” I spun around and all but ran out the door.

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Enter the Giveaway:

To celebrate the release of Haydn, Jess is giving away an e-set of the Bar 28 series so far!

Enter the Rafflecopter giveaway for your chance to win!

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About the Author:

You will normally find her in the living room—typing away—with her wayward puppy, Siddiqi. As a hopeless romantic, JJ dives into her stories, always falling in love with her men, making sure they get the happy-ever-after they deserve, even if they do have to work hard for it. JJ lives in a small, very quiet, village in Lincolnshire, UK, with her husband and dog, and spends all day dreaming up stories full of really hot men

Connect with JJ:

Website: Author page: Twitter: Goodreads: Instagram: BookBub: Amazon author page: Harper’s Honeys:

Release Blitz

Soft Hands (The Sin Bin: West Coast, Book 2) by E.M. Lindsey


Book Title:  Soft Hands (The Sin Bin: West Coast, Book 2)

Author: E.M. Lindsey

Cover Artist: Natasha Snow, Photographer: CJC Photography, Model: Eric G.

Release Date: September 23, 2022

Genre: Contemporary Sports/Hockey Romance

Tropes: MMM, best friends to lovers

Themes: Aromantic acceptance, polyamory

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length:  68 000 words

It is an interconnected standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.


Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK


There are a few things Nolan Ouellet has come to accept about himself.

One: that his future with the NHL was irrevocably destroyed thanks to his reckless actions as a teenager destroying his knee.

Two: that he will never fall in love because the very idea of it sends his skin crawling.

Three: he will bed as many NHL players as humanly possible before he retires his game.

And four: he will never apologize for who he is and what he wants.

Then two men come barreling into his life and turn everything he knows upside down.

He still won’t play for the NHL, and he still won’t change who he is because he’s fought too long and too hard to accept his identity. But suddenly his future is starting to look a little different than he originally planned.

And that scares the absolute hell out of him.

When he met Marko Rudenko and Luka Wagner—two veterans of the Denver Huskies—they were supposed to be a game, just like everyone else. But now all he can think about is how to keep them around without compromising the person he’s become and ruining the love Marko and Luka have for each other.


“Is there going to be a fight?” Nolan asked.

The guy scoffed, glancing at him. “Worse. Hockey players.”

Nolan’s heart rammed against his chest. Not that it could possibly be Marko or Luka, but he hadn’t seen or spoken to either of them since the awkward incident at the rink. He hadn’t even been letting himself think about it.

He swallowed thickly. “They come in here a lot?”

“Every once in a while,” the guy said, then lowered his voice. “Mostly because it’s the furthest thing from a sports bar so no one’s going to notice if they take someone home.”

Nolan heard that for the warning it was: keep your mouth shut. The guy might not love having professional athletes in his bar, but he also knew it was good for business.

He forced himself not to look, bowing over his drink. “Tell me when it’s safe to escape, and close out my tab.”

“Actually, put his drink on ours.”

Nolan’s entire body froze. 

Fuck. Fucking shit fuck shit

He would have recognized Luka’s voice even if he was concussed and under water. His throat went tight, but he tried to offer something like a smile, though given how wide Luka’s eyes were behind his glasses, he realized he was probably grimacing.

His heart sank even lower when another body slid up against Luka’s and stared him down. “You don’t answer call or text. We think maybe you died.”

Yeah, okay. He did kind of deserve that. He’d just left Marko hanging like an asshole, and the guy didn’t deserve it. But he also didn’t deserve Nolan’s mess when it was obvious Marko and Luka were both capable of a love that straight up repulsed Nolan down to his core.

“You know these guys?” the bartender asked. He crossed his arms over his chest in a protective way, and Nolan felt a pulse of affection for the total stranger.

“No. We don’t know him. He’s total weirdo who stalk us,” Marko said.

Luka elbowed him hard. “Stop being an asshole. Yes, we know him.”

Nolan sighed and gave a nod. “Old friends. In fact, put their drinks on my tab. Get them each one of these,” he said, tapping his glass.

Both Marko and Luka started to protest, but the bartender ignored them both with a shrug and walked off to fill the order.

“Why you being child?” Marko demanded.

“Pretty sure a child couldn’t afford a twenty-six-dollar glass of bourbon for his two friends,” Nolan fired back.

Luka’s brows shot up, and he shoved his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose. “Why the fuck are you drinking that?”

“Because it tastes amazing,” he said. And because I can afford it now thanks to a slew of online strangers who pay me to shove dildos up my ass. But he wasn’t going to say that part aloud as tempting as it was. “You don’t want it?”

As if summoned, the bartender arrived with three new glasses, and Nolan took his, watching the other two out of his periphery. Marko showed no hesitation when snatching up his, but Luka was a little more hesitant.

“It’s not poisoned,” Nolan grumbled.

Marko sighed, then hip-checked Luka out of his way and sat on the wooden stool. It groaned under his impossibly thick layers of muscle, and Nolan tried not to stare at the way his arms flexed as he laid one on the bar top and used the other to lift his glass to his mouth.

“Okay, we talk about weird moment, or we just get drunk and pretend it never happen?”

Nolan didn’t think the fucker was just going to come out with it like that. Guilt slammed into him as he looked over at Luka and wondered if this was some sort of confrontation because Nolan had flirted with them both and gotten a little too close to Marko recently. He swallowed down another delightfully spiced mouthful of liquor.

“Should I get drunk for this conversation?”

“Looks like you’re already halfway there,” Luka pointed out. He wedged himself between Marko and Nolan, leaning his elbow on Marko’s shoulder in a gesture that telegraphed they were together. 

As they should be, Nolan thought bitterly, but he wasn’t feeling particularly generous considering how badly he wanted them both. “Yeah, well. I came here to drink my feelings.”

“Mm. You should try feelings burritos,” Marko said. “Is much better. No hangover.”

“Nah, just burrito farts,” Luka said, then laughed when Marko rolled his eyes. “Please, you know it’s true. There’s a reason we don’t sleep together when you and Ravi have burrito night.”

Nolan felt his ears go red, and he had to look away. He didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with him because, for an aromantic asshole, he loved watching the people he cared about living their best lives. So why did it force bile up his throat to think about losing these two to each other?

They wanted things that made his skin crawl.

He jolted slightly when warm fingers touched his wrist, and he took a breath before he returned his attention to the two men. “I’m still firmly team bourbon.”

“Are you still team Luka and Marko?” Luka asked so quietly Nolan mostly had to read his lips over the music.

He swallowed heavily. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you stop talking to me,” Marko said, his booming voice rising over the music. “We have moment, then you just leave. And then”—he sucked in air through his teeth—“nothing.”

About the Author 

E.M. Lindsey is a non-binary writer who lives in the southeast United States, close to the water where their heart lies.

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Author Spotlight

9/23 September #BRVL AUTHOR SPOTLIGHT – Roark


Roark: The Dragons of Thunderbird Mountains

Buy for $4.99


Dragons are real. They live among us in secret. It could be your neighbor, your boss, or your best friend, and you would never know.

Cameron loves his life on the road. As a truck driver in Canada’s north, he sees majestic mountains, lush valleys and waterfalls that fall hundreds of feet. He couldn’t be happier. Until one day, his rig breaks down in the middle of nowhere and a creature out of mythology comes to his rescue, opening up a world he never knew existed.

A world in which Roark, the High King of the dragons, chooses him for his consort. Or does he?

Heartbroken, Cameron flees from Thunderbird Mountain. He can run, but he can’t hide and must decide if dragons can be a part of his future or not.

This book contains the mention of emotional abuse and trauma, along with sexy dragons, happy endings and an egg, which hatches an adorable baby dragon.

                                                        Next Up is Rebecca and Victoria Heap


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Release Blast

Release Day Blast: The Glow Up by A.M. Johnson

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The Glow Up by A.M. Johnson is Live!

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About The Glow Up

•Chris Delaney•

I’ve promised myself that this was going to be the year to finally buckle down. I’m a junior, and I’ve settled on a major. I’ve got focus and determination. The one thing I haven’t figured out yet? How to deal with the massive crush I’ve been harboring on the guy in study carrel six.

I don’t know his name and some of my friends think it’s time for me to move on, but he has this whole sexy, broody, dark eyes and messy hair thing going for him. And yeah, he seems like he could be my polar opposite. The kind of unapproachable, serious type who doesn’t smile much, but I’d like to think he’s all rays of sunshine underneath his stormy expressions and disheveled demeanor. All that intense energy… I dig it.

I want to know him.

The rub?

I’ll have to find the courage to actually introduce myself.

•Aiden Russo•

The college experience is supposed to be parties, drinking, and fun with a few classes mixed in. It sounds pretty amazing, right? For me, it turned out to be endless lectures, avalanches of homework, and copious amounts of caffeine. The study carrel might as well be my dorm room. And that guitar under my bed? It’s got two years of dust growing on it. But this is the life I have to lead if I’m ever going to help my dad.

Pre-med isn’t for the weak.

The problem? Loneliness holds me hostage.

If only I could find someone willing to break through my ever-present cloud bank, and remind me what it’s like to have fun again.

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Meet A.M. Johnson

A.M. Johnson lives in Utah with her family where she works as a full-time nurse. If she’s not at the hockey rink with her kiddos, you’ll find her buried in a book or behind the keyboard. She loves romance and all things passionate. Amanda enjoys exploring all genres and bringing life to the human experience.

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Release Blitz

Release Blitz kit for The Glow Up by A.M. Johnson

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Release Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway: The Glow Up By A.M. Johnson

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Franklin University Series, Book 5

Chris Delaney

I’ve promised myself that this was going to be the year to finally buckle down. I’m a junior, and I’ve settled on a major. I’ve got focus and determination. The one thing I haven’t figured out yet? How to deal with the massive crush I’ve been harboring on the guy in study carrel six.

I don’t know his name and some of my friends think it’s time for me to move on, but he has this whole sexy, broody, dark eyes and messy hair thing going for him. And yeah, he seems like he could be my polar opposite. The kind of unapproachable, serious type who doesn’t smile much, but I’d like to think he’s all rays of sunshine underneath his stormy expressions and disheveled demeanor. All that intense energy… I dig it.

I want to know him.

The rub?

I’ll have to find the courage to actually introduce myself.

Aiden Russo

The college experience is supposed to be parties, drinking, and fun with a few classes mixed in. It sounds pretty amazing, right? For me, it turned out to be endless lectures, avalanches of homework, and copious amounts of caffeine. The study carrel might as well be my dorm room. And that guitar under my bed? It’s got two years of dust growing on it. But this is the life I have to lead if I’m ever going to help my dad.

Pre-med isn’t for the weak.

The problem? Loneliness holds me hostage.

If only I could find someone willing to break through my ever-present cloud bank, and remind me what it’s like to have fun again.

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CHRIS Thick smoke curled from the joint’s tip as I held it to my lips. The cloudless sky overhead bore down on my exposed shoulders, baking my skin in the California sun. I frowned and stared at the sidewalk for the hundredth time in the last ten minutes from my perch on the rooftop of the science building. “Shit…” I wheezed and sputtered, choking and waving away the exhaled smoke. “Such a novice. Are we feeling dramatic today?” Tommy asked, and I decided he wasn’t the most supportive friend I’d ever had. Tommy was the Tommiest of all the Toms with his perfectly styled deep side part, polo t-shirts, and his love for being the life of the party. “I don’t usually smoke this shit. You know that.” He rolled his eyes and took a smooth drag like it wasn’t dragon fire. “Edibles are for the weak.” “Edibles are for people who’d rather not pollute their lungs. But thank you for sharing,” I said without much conviction as my eyes snagged on a guy coming up the path. I sighed. It wasn’t him. “He isn’t coming.” My shoulders slumped as I leaned back onto my elbows. “My life is over.” “Yup, definitely fucking dramatic.” He held his hand to my forehead, and I swatted it away. “Your obsession is starting to worry me, my friend.” Tommy licked his fingers and dashed out the joint. “This guy doesn’t even know you exist.” “Yet.” He laughed, his bloodshot eyes squinting in the sunlight as he stared at me. “Your optimism will be your downfall.” “Thanks.” I sat up and pulled my legs from over the roof’s ledge. Standing, I wiped my hands on my jeans. “I better get back to work.” “Don’t get mad at me, dude. I’m only speaking the truth. You’ve been salivating over this guy since freshman year, and you don’t even know his name. That’s kind of… weird.” “One… I’m not mad.” I held up my fingers. “Two… in my opinion, names are overrated. And three… fuck you, I am not weird.”
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About the Author:

Amanda is an award-winning and best selling author of LGBTQIA and contemporary romance and fiction. She lives in Utah with her family where she moonlights as a nurse on the weekends and hikes in the mountains as much as possible.

If she’s not busy with her three munchkins, you’ll find her buried in a book or behind the keyboard where she explores the human experience through the written word, exploring all spectrums and genres.

She’s obsessed with all things Hockey, Austen, and Oreos, and loves to connect with readers!

Stay up to date by signing up for her newsletter here: Connect with her Online Instagram @am_johnson_author

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Blog Tour

Blog Tour kit for It’s Not Unusual To Be Loved by an Alien by Chloe Archer

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Blog Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway: It’s Not Unusual To Be Loved by an Alien By Chloe Archer


Tentacular Tales Series, Book 1

A sexy alien living incognito on Earth meets a sci-fi loving nerd who wants to rock his universe. What could possibly go wrong? Besides the unexpected tentacles and the accidental Mating Courtship Ritual, that is….


As a bona fide sci-fi nerd and total X-phile—the truth is out there—I’ve always believed in aliens. Duh. But I never thought I’d actually find them on Earth–let alone right here in Las Vegas! Now I’ve stumbled onto a big freakin’ secret and found my very own hot AF alien. I’m head over heels, but he’s being a total grump and holding back. How do I make him realize a geeky sunshine guy like me is just what he needs in his life? Did I mention he also has tentacles?!?! #HolyHentaiFantasyBatman #SwoonworthyAlien #SignMeUpSugar #MakeItSo #VivaLasVegas


The last thing I need in my life is a chatterbox twink who’s determined to woo me and could expose the secret existence of aliens on Earth to all humankind. Everything about him annoys me, including his stupidly attractive halo of golden curls and his bright green ‘come hither’ eyes. To make matters worse, he’s been recruited to work for the alien Alliance on Earth, and I’m assigned to keep him out of trouble. I don’t care how attractive he is. I don’t date humans! Except, my tentacles may have accidentally started the Mating Courtship Ritual with him…

It’s Not Unusual to be Loved by an Alien (Tentacular Tales #1) is an (102,000 words) M/M sci-fi rom com featuring an adorkable twink with unexpected secrets and a slight obsession with extraterrestrials, the reluctant alien he wants to make his boo, tentacles with a mind of their own, zany extraterrestrial shenanigans in Sin City, and enough humor to fill an entire spaceship. This is the first book in the series. There is no cheating, and this book ends with a HFN. Never fear, the series guarantees readers an HEA by the end!

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“Why do your pajamas have telephone booths on them?” River jolts in his chair like I’ve used a cattle prod on him. I don’t think it’s possible, but his eyes get even bigger, and his mouth drops open. “Dude, this isn’t an ordinary phone booth. It’s the motherfucking TARDIS.” “The what?” “Uh oh.” Benji shakes his head. “Now you’ve done it.” River’s nostrils flare. “First you think we’re freaking drug dealers, and now you’re telling me you don’t know what the TARDIS is? Don’t tell me you’ve never seen Doctor Who?” Ah. Now I think I know what he’s talking about. I’ve heard of the show but never watched it. As a captain of the Alliance, I really don’t have time for such things. Something makes me want to keep messing with him though. He’s too adorable in his outrage. “What’s that?” I ask, feigning ignorance. River puts the back of his hand to his forehead and slides out of his chair to collapse on the floor. I have to bite back a laugh. This guy should’ve done theater. Or maybe daytime soap operas. River’s theatrics continue as he raises his fist so it can be seen above the top of the table and performs an over-the-top soliloquy of his own creation. “Oh, cruel universe! How could you bring me a hot as fuck alien Timelord-looking wannabe, but he has no idea who the Doctor is? Why? How can he not know about the TARDIS? Why is he channeling Agent K when all I want is a dashing David Tennant? Too, too cruel.” He fake sobs. Against my better intentions, I can’t help but smile. This man is utterly ridiculous, but in a way that is somehow charming. He’s like a bright sun sucking me into his orbit, so vibrant and warm I can’t look away from him. His eyes peek up at me from above the lip of the metal table, and he grins while flashing lovely straight teeth at me. “I knew I could make you smile.” He pumps both fists in the air. “Yeeeeeeeeesssss!”
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Enter the Giveaway:

To celebrate this exciting debut release, Chloe is giving away 2 x $5 Amazon Gift Cards along with e-copies of It’s Not Unusual To Be Loved by an Alien!

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About the Author:

Chloe Archer writes M/M sci-fi and paranormal rom coms with laugh-out-loud humor because she’s all about bringing the funny-sexy back. Oh, yeah!

She currently calls Minnesota home but has lived abroad in places like Montreal, Edinburgh, and Tokyo. She’s hoping to relocate to Scotland permanently in the next few years if the stars align.

Chloe is a fur mama to two adorable Yorkies, Jasper and Teddy, and she loves them in a crazy dog mama kind of way. When she isn’t busy writing, she enjoys visiting friends and family, traveling, reading, binge-watching movies and TV shows, and practicing her karaoke skills. She does a mean cover of Pat Benatar and Cher, or so she’s been told.

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