Tuesday, February 26, 2019

Book Spotlight on Romancing Rebecca (Brass RIng Sorority) by January Bain #romance @januarybain @goddessfish


This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. January Bain will be awarding a Paypal $25.00 cash payout to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Canadian romance writer Rebecca Fairfax thinks a few months living in an English castle will allow her to test out her research theories about the castle and get new material for her writing. Oh, and she’ll be able to carry out her Brass Ring Sorority sisters’ dare to kiss a duke, too. Only, the whole experience ends up changing her life in a way she could never have seen coming…

Ash Piers isn’t interested in peerage and titles. He’s a freewheeling playboy who’s adopted a hedonistic lifestyle after a disastrous love affair. He thinks the upstart Canadian is a gold-digger of the worst kind, kissing his father, the Duke of Piers, on first greeting, then getting engaged to him a moment later! But, damn, he’s attracted to the woman who’s living in his home for the summer. How’s he, a red-blooded Englishman, supposed to keep his hands off her as propriety and family demand?

But with the castle lurching from one crisis to another, Ash and Rebecca have to work together to ensure his family make it through events that threaten to tear everyone apart. And when an ancient and deadly danger looms, both Ash and Rebecca are forced to conquer all fear—physical and emotional…

Part madcap caper, part serious treasure hunting, the Brass Ringers never fail to entertain or get their way!

Read an Excerpt

“That woman stole your Fabergé egg,” the thief accused, pointing a rigid forefinger at her, one she instantly wanted to bite off.

“That’s not what happened, and you darn well know it!” Adrenaline flooded her system. The unmitigated gall. “I was chasing you!”

“She’s lying!” he said.

She took her eyes off the obnoxious pants-on-fire thief for a second, glancing around to see who had finally shown up to help, expecting perhaps the errant tour guide. But it wasn’t him. He hadn’t looked at all like a legendary ruler such as Uther Pendragon or King Arthur in his yellow safety vest. But this man did. Oh boy, does he. As though he had walked straight out of The Mists of Avalon or The Once and Future King, standing there with his arms crossed, glaring at the two of them as if they were in cahoots. From his thick brown hair falling forward onto his forehead to curl just right, to his chiselled facial features that spoke of centuries of good breeding, he would make the perfect lead in any movie that required a hot, over-the-top-sexy hero.

Oh. My.

She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly too parched to be able to speak a word. Xaviera, we’ve got the guy to play your hero in your swan song, that’s for damn sure. He was also the perfect protagonist for the historical literary book she envisioned using this castle location for, now that she was preparing to make the break from writing steamy romances. Finally.

“You can both come with me. I’ll need to get to the bottom of things.” His fine British accent tugged at something deep inside her.

“You don’t believe this lying sack of sh—this idiot,” she said, clearing her throat, self-correcting at the last second, with how cultured the man sounded and not her wanting to make a poor impression. He offered her his hand and she took it. Whoa. Nice strong hands, too. He helped her to her feet, blessing her with a stern look. Fine, play it that way. Anger rose at the unfairness of his accusations. At least it ratcheted down her libido.

“I just got here. How am I supposed to know who’s lying and who’s not? Are you okay?”


About the Author:
January Bain has wished on every falling star, every blown-out birthday candle, and every coin thrown in a fountain to be a storyteller. To share the tales of high adventure, mysteries, and thrillers she has dreamed of all her life. The story you now have in your hands is the compilation of a lot of things manifesting itself for this special series. Hundreds of hours spent researching the unusual and the mundane have come together to create books that features strong women who live life to the fullest, wild adventures full of twists and unforeseen turns, and hot complicated men who aren’t afraid to take risks. She can only hope her stories will capture your imagination and heart as much as they do hers.

If you are looking for January Bain, you can find her hard at work every morning without fail in her office with two furry babies trying to prove who does a better job of guarding the doorway. And, of course, she’s married to the most romantic man!

If you wish to connect in the virtual world she is easily found on Facebook, her second home. Oh, and she loves to talk books…

Blog Address: http://januarybainjourney.blogspot.ca/
Twitter Name: https://twitter.com/JanuaryBain
Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/january.bain
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6437282.January_Bain
Email address for fans - januarybain@xplornet.com

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Thursday, February 21, 2019

Book spotlight on A Muse to Live For by Katherine Wyvern #historicalromance #transgender #mustread



Hello, and thank you so much for hosting me and my new release, A Muse to Live For.

A Muse to Live For is the third instalment in my loosely interconnected “transgender trilogy”, which includes also Woman as a Foreign Language and Spice & Vanilla. While WaaFL and S&V are very obviously connected (they have two characters in common), the threads connection Spice to Muse are much subtler, so much so that I consider it almost a game with my readers to find them.

Unlike the other two books, which are Contemporary Romance, Muse takes a plunge back into the past and is set in the 1880s.

This is part of why it took me so long to write it (almost a year, on and off). Much as I am familiar with Victorian England from having read so much Dickens, and Conan Doyle, and the Brontë sisters, and a number of other books written or set in that period, whenever one begins to write, one discovers how many details they are still missing. How much did a shave cost? How did you ride a cab? Where would a poor Irish immigrant likely live? How do you wear a bustle dress? How do you fix one if it’s worn?

It became so fascinating to research all these things (and much more) that I spent more time in Victorian London than I had ever intended, and once more, a short story became a novel (story of my life).

The main reason for choosing a period setting however was not the fancy costumes and moody atmosphere, but a desire to write a story about an artist of that amazing period, when the Pre Raphaelites, the Symbolists and the Impressionists were changing the face of art, and to write a transgender character before transgender became a thing, before there were any labels or any sense of belonging to a group.

It is the deepest trip I ever took into the emotions of any two characters, through obsession, depression, love and wonderful fulfilment, and both characters have some autobiographic relevance to me. It’s my favorite story to date.



Blurb:

London, 1884

An artist lives to create. When Nathaniel’s urge to paint died, so did his will to live.

Until the night he meets Gabrielle.

Gabrielle may be just a poor prostitute, but she has the beauty of a Pre-Raphaelite stunner and the otherworldly aura of a fallen angel. She also has a secret. Gabrielle is Gabriel, and when Gabriel’s dark past comes knocking and Gabrielle must abandon her new career as an artist’s model, Nathaniel’s whole world comes crashing down again.

Better to die than living without her love, and the breathtaking creative drive she brought him. But it’s dead easy to die for a woman. Any fool can die for love. To live for it, that takes altogether more courage, doggedness, and imagination.

Be Warned: transgender romance, queer romance, cross-dressing, m/m sex, anal sex, rape

Excerpt:
I am not sure how to touch Nathaniel. I want him to kiss me again, I want him to hold me, I want him to look at me that way he does in his studio, when he watches every line of my body and sees a woman. And at the same time, I wish he would see me for what I am, all that I am, once and for all, so I don’t have to hide anymore.
So I shed my jacket, and the blouse underneath. I shiver a little in the cold when my arms are bared, and he runs his warm palms on my goosebumps, soothing them.
Then I stand to unbutton my skirts and petticoat, and untie my bustle, and I let it all swish down around my knees, and I stand here naked, in my small chemise, and stockings and corset, and my boots.
I am still silk-skinned and woman shaped.
Except for that one thing.
I steal a glance at his face—I can hardly bear to look at his eyes, standing here so naked—thinking he will wince, or frown. Or scream, what do you know. You can never tell, with a sensitive artistic temperament.
But he does none of these things.
Instead he goes to his knees on the floor, like a man about to propose in some play, and with a sort of mute reverence he strokes my thighs and my buttocks, and the back of my knees, through the stockings. When he lays a kiss and then his forehead on the hard of my hip, where the bone pokes sharply under my skin, I put my hands on his crazy hair, and hold him there, and with the barest, lightest touch of his fingertips he caresses the front of my corset, on my belly, and then down, down.
And to my acute embarrassment, the damn thing shivers to his touch, stiffening, rising.
Well. He has certainly seen me, now. He really has.
He is not screaming.
I pull him to his feet and I step out of my puddled skirts, and gently I undress him. Jacket and shirt and trousers and drawers, socks, everything.
He is as tall as I am, which I had never noticed, because he always stands with his head bent and his shoulders slumped. He’s not muscular, but there is no fat on him either. He has well-built bones under his lumpy clothes—he badly needs a good tailor—and he would be rather handsome if he held himself straight, with his chin up, and didn’t look so much at odds with himself. He’s pale, but not as pale as I am, and there is just the merest spray of hair on his chest.
I caress his skin all over as I undress him, and he looks transfixed, as if it had never occurred to him that it takes two to dance this dance. Perhaps he thought I’d make him spend the night on his knees adoring me.
The heat of his skin is like a deep current, and it draws me to him.
We stand here mute, the only sounds the drumming of the rain and the swish of falling clothes, and gently kissing lips.
When I push him to lie on the bed, I have a moment of dread that he might want to do that to me. I cannot have it. I will not be taken that way ever again.
I’ll make my living giving blowjobs for the rest of my days, I guess.
But I am not afraid of him. I do not believe he’d be capable of hurting a fly, let alone me.
“So, do you fancy that blowjob, finally?” I whisper in his ear, smiling, but he holds me close, too close for me to slide down along his body.
“I love you,” he whispers, his lips on my ear, so that words are made into a caress, “I love you, I love you.”
“Hush,” I whisper back, bearing down on him, grinding my cock on his. “Don’t say such things. It cannot be. It can’t.”
“This night, this once, please, let me say it. I love you, I love you, I love you.” His body rises to meet mine, and I feel those tears spilling now, with joy, and grief, and pity. Pity for him, for me, for both of us, lost in this narrow garret under the drumming rain, orphans in this storm, desperately naked in this terrible iron city.
“Only this once, then,” I whisper. “Tomorrow, you must forget.”
And before he can answer or kiss me again, I slip out of his arms, and down, along his chest and belly, so he cannot see me cry.
I have pleasured so many men this way, but never one I loved, and maybe it’s the same thing, and yet it’s something altogether different. He’s all silk and warmth and heaving life and fire pulsing, and his flesh matters to mine, so that my whole body loves his.
“You—don’t—have—to do this,” he whispers at first, but then he surrenders finally, and lets the pleasure take him.
I told him, the first time we met, that I’d do him for free. Who would have guessed, then, that I would end up doing him for love?
And I don’t know if he’s a virgin—but he is indeed quick. His cock grows even tauter on my tongue, and he breathes in short, hard gasps a few times. When his body arches and heaves and his hand fumbles at my cheek, I hold him, and hold him, and hold him… He comes with a broken moan, hotly. I swallow it all.
On the street I never do. But here, now, with him, I could not bring myself to spit.
Find A Muse to Live For at Evernight:



BIO:
I have entered that age when looking at beautiful male models in their prime makes me a cougar, ahem. 

Almost all my heroines are short: that’s because I look at the world from hobbit level. Being so small I am three times more concentrated (read: obsessive) than anybody I know. I am exhaustingly creative in writing, arts, crafts... Sometimes my brain gets friction burns from hurtling at such speed from one universe to the next.

I love animals, plants, and occasionally even people. 

Like the Highlander I come from a lot of different places. I was born in Italy but lived here and there and consider myself simply and deeply European. I love Europe passionately, its antiquity, its diversity, its quirkiness. All my books are set in Europe, or alternate versions of it. 

I have been writing since I can remember.

LINKS:
Katherine’s Blog:
Katherine’s Website:
Facebook:
Facebook Author/artist Group:
Twitter:
Or follow her on Instagram @katherinewyvern

Tuesday, February 19, 2019

Book Spotlight on The Romantic by Elodie Parkes #mmromance #newrelease #paranormal #gayromance


The Romantic 
MM romance from eXtasy Books

Handsome Luke Kirby loves books, so when he finds boxes of old and beautiful tomes in a dusty shop, he can’t resist buying them. To his delight one of them contains what he hopes will bring an end to his loneliness and heartache. As he prepares to cast an ancient prayer spell to the god of love, across town Ethan Goss decides that moving to a new apartment will ease his broken heart.
With the help of an eccentric real estate agent, gorgeous Ethan goes to a viewing in the block where Luke lives.
When Luke meets Ethan in the lobby, it’s the start of a passionate love affair. 
Fate hasn’t finished with the two handsome men—will true happiness evade them both?
#gayromance with an edge of paranormal 

Warning this story contains MM sex in the love scenes.



Read the teaser

In the lobby, Victor stopped walking. “I should show you the garden, but I need the key for the gate. It’s in my car. Wait here a moment.” He strode rapidly out of the front doors.
Ethan checked out the table in the foyer where mail sat in three neat stacks. One stack had a lot, the others not much at all. Ethan couldn’t help reading the names on the envelopes. As his gaze traveled over the addresses, someone clattered down the polished hardwood stairs.
Ethan turned to the footsteps.
A young man glanced up from watching where his feet fell. His blue eyes locked with Ethan’s stare.
Ethan gazed at him, and his stomach lurched. His heart pounded. Not one word would form in his mind other than, wow.
The young man smiled, approaching the table. “Hi. I’m collecting my snail mail—yeah, not much as usual.”
Through a daze of attraction, Ethan watched the man pick up the two envelopes in his stack. He looked the young man up and down, taking in his hard body and fashionably cut dark hair. He held back a sigh of appreciation as the man turned to him.
“Are you the new tenant?” He waved a hand at the apartment door.
His low voice traveled over Ethan like a glaze of melting honey. Ethan stared at the man’s handsome face. He is gorgeous. About my age, too. “I haven’t taken the place yet, just…just viewed it.”
The young man moved closer. “You should take it. There aren’t many places as good, big, and with a garden this close to the city.” He held out his hand. “Luke Kirby. I live on the third floor, but that’s my patch of garden next to yours, if you take the place. It might seem odd to have to trundle down the stairs to sit in the sun with my coffee, but I’ve grown used to it.” His eyes sparkled at Ethan. He held Ethan’s gaze as he talked.
Butterflies filled Ethan’s stomach. He couldn’t stop his heart hammering and wondered if he could actually speak, meeting Luke had such an effect on him. “Ethan Goss.” He shook Luke’s hand. What he felt like doing was pulling the guy close and kissing those perfect lips that moved again.
“Pleased to meet you.” Luke held on to Ethan’s hand. His eyes held something unspoken.
A wave of longing rose through Ethan. His loneliness and need for sex put an ache in his stomach, replacing the butterflies. He glanced down at the strong hand gripping his, wondering if he could hold on a little longer, despite how weird that might be. Better not, that’s kinda creepy. All the same, it wasn’t Ethan who abandoned the handshake.
Luke let go but trailed his fingertips along Ethan’s palm as he withdrew his hand.
With his skin tingling from the touch, Ethan gazed into Luke’s blue eyes and knew. He’s gay. He somehow knows I am, too—probably the way I’m ogling him. He’s interested in me. Thank you, god. Ethan flashed his eyes at Luke with a flirtatious expression he usually reserved for cute guys he met in the gay bar.
Copyright Elodie Parkes 2019 eXtasy Books
BUY the BOOK
http://mybook.to/TheRomantic will take you to your Amazon site









Sunday, February 17, 2019

She was bound and at his mercy ~ #weekendwritingwarriors from Entwined (Passion, Pleasure, Pain Anthology) #BDSM #Paranormal #F*ckcancer #WeLoveDoris

HI everyone,

For some reason my life has been a bit of a roller-coaster these past two weeks and I can't seem to find the time to be in my computer. With that being said, I *am* working on a new story but only during my commute which is making the process painfully slow.

Anyhow, today I'm sharing another snippet from my story Entwined, part of the Passion, Pleasure, Pain Anthology, written by a wonderful group of authors in honor of our late friend, Doris O'Connor. All proceeds made will go to Doris's family.

I've moved way ahead in today's snippet to where Mason and Mallory are finally indulging in a bit of rope play.


Enjoy! XoXo,
Elyzabeth

*Some creative punctuation has taken place to adjust to guidelines 

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Taking the red rope, he moved in behind her and looped it around her waist. Slowly, he dragged it to below her breasts, making pinpricks of desire stab her flesh. 
“They’re going to look beautiful framed,” he murmured in her ear, grazing her nipples with the rough material.
“Yes, Sir,” Mallory whispered.
Mason began to work. The rope glided across her skin, left, right, up. A knot here and there, rough, hard. He grabbed her arms and pulled them behind her, placing her hands around her wrists. After checking for comfort, he proceeded tying her up. Excitement zinged loudly through every one of her pores: she was bound and at his mercy.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

More Weekend Writing Warriors? Click Here  || Follow them on Facebook and Twitter

More Sexy Snippets? Click Here  || Follow them on Facebook and Twitter
 
 



💜~~~OUT NOW~~~💜

Passion, Pleasure, Pain: An anthology of Dominance and submission

In each other they found the piece of themselves they hadn't even realized was missing.


This D/s anthology was put together by writers who hold author, Doris O'Connor, near and dear to 
their hearts because the genre is one that was near and dear to Doris as an author. 
#F*ckCancer #WeLoveDoris

You Belong to Me by Lynn Burke
Alabaster by Kastil Eavenshade
Risqué by London Saint James
Back on Top – A Wylde Shore Novella by Jan Graham
Hell’s Mercy by Katherine Wyvern
Deb by Name, Sub by Nature by Raven McAllan
Once Upon a Time by Erin Leaf
Shade Addiction by Lea Bronsen
Yes, Governor by Lesli Richardson
Entwined by Elyzabeth M. VaLey
Burn by DC Stone
Claimed by a Stranger R Brennan