Spotlight-Excerpt & Giveaway: THE BASTARD PRINCE OF VERSAILLES by Will Bashor

The Bastard Prince of Versailles: A Novel Inspired by True Events

by  Will Bashor

Publisher: Diderot Press

Cover Artist: Will Bashor

Release Date:  September 6, 2023

Genre: Historical gay fiction

Tropes: Forbidden love, friends to lovers, coming of age

Themes: Love, war, redemption 

Heat Rating: 2 flames    

Length:  95 000 words/ 330 pages

It is a standalone book and does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links

Amazon US  |   Amazon UK  |  B&N  |  Kobo

In The Bastard Prince of Versailles, a factually based historical novel, a disowned gay prince struggles to redeem himself through heroism and self-sacrifice at war in 17th century France. 

Blurb

Author Will Bashor portrays the intrigues of the 17th-century French court with fantastic detail and a passion for atmosphere, filling every page with rivalries, betrayals, and political maneuvering. The character of Louis is sensitively drawn, and readers witness his struggles with identity, love, and the demands of royal life. The Chevalier de Lorraine's manipulation and the gay society subplot add depth to the narrative, highlighting the complexities of sexual identity and society's prejudices of the time. As Louis is exiled and later given a chance at redemption through military service, the novel delves into themes of heroism and self-sacrifice with some deeply compelling emotional scenes that tug at the heartstrings and help us relate to human beings from centuries ago on a modern personal level. Overall, The Bastard Prince of Versailles is a compelling historical novel that not only entertains but also educates about a lesser-known aspect of French history, and I would not hesitate to recommend it. 5 Stars.

Readers' Favorite - K.C. Finn

Excerpt

PROLOGUE

Château of Versailles, October 1682

The gathering of nobles and courtiers in the marble-tiled courtyard gasped when fifteen-year-old Count Louis of Vermandois collapsed after the final blow of the whip, his body dangling from the ladder’s frame. King Louis XIV, his expression grim, raised his hand to end the spectacle and motioned for his son’s lifeless body to be carried away.

Hours later, in a dungeon cell reeking of rat urine and pipe smoke, Count Louis woke up on a cot with vermin-infested straw prickling his bare stomach. Despite the sounds of vicious dogs growling and drunken jailers cursing in the corridors, his mind wandered back to his idyllic youth, trying to understand how he ever ended up in a dank, dark prison cell.

CHAPTER ONE: The Dance of Faeries

Château of Sceaux, January 1674

In a peaceful country château, far from the constant intrigue of infidelity and adultery that tarnished the Palace of Versailles, lived a young prince who, despite all that he’d ever been told, was not a true prince. Even though his father, King Louis XIV, had named him Louis de Bourbon and ennobled him under the titles of Count of Vermandois and Admiral of France, he was still not a true prince. Not yet.

From his chambers on the second floor, seven-year-old Louis gazed out of one of his two large windows encased with leaded panes and carved wood, overlooking an imposing courtyard. The enchanted château and its seven pavilions were linked by ornate galleries with gardens, a basin showered with waterfalls, and a grand canal flanked with trellises of greenery. The view always offered Louis a sense of harmony and serenity.

But today was different. His foxlike, deep brown chestnut eyes were wider than usual as he waited anxiously at the window for the first of the royal coaches to appear. His mother, Duchess de La Vallière, and the king rarely visited but were expected to pay a visit to Sceaux on this twenty-eighth day of January. Even though the king had legitimized him and his sister, Mademoiselle Marie-Anne de Blois, at an early age, recognizing them as his natural children, Louis never understood why they didn’t live at Versailles. Still, he dreamt of one day living at the fairy-tale palace and maybe even inheriting the crown. What he was too young to understand, however, was that a decree of legitimization only ensured him a certain number of limited rights.

Louis’ foster family, the Colberts, also chose this visit for a special event—his breeching. Like most princes before the age of seven, Louis had grown up in the company of women, and as such, court tradition required him to wear a girl’s gown. Until today. Today, the valets in his chambers were meticulously laying out his crisply pressed chemise with ruffles, embroidered breeches, and silk stockings in preparation for his rite de passage.

When Madame Colbert entered Louis’ room to check on their progress, Louis, after wiping the foggy window with his sleeve, looked up at her with an innocent smile. He knew there was something in his brown eyes that could melt any woman’s heart. He’d often admired himself in the mirror and his eyes offered him a sense of solitude. Or was it loneliness? With his parents living at Versailles, and the beautiful and graceful eight-year-old Marie-Anne caring little for her younger brother at Sceaux, he often felt quite alone.

Madame Colbert ran her fingers through Louis’ hair. In the window’s reflection, he noticed how his hair spilled down his neck like ink on a tilted piece of parchment. The subtle rays of light reflected an indigo blue on his curly locks, contrasting with the moonbeam paleness of his face. He remembered courtiers who’d visited Sceaux and found themselves speechless when searching for words to describe him, often deferring to “pretty” or “lovely.”

“Stop wriggling, Count Louis,” said Madame Colbert. “Remember, you have royal blood running through your veins.”

Still, he thought, Madame Colbert never really treated him any differently than her other three sons. Her youngest, the impetuous Jules-Armand, was only four years older than Louis and, unlike his older brothers, still lived at Sceaux. Jules-Armand often invited Louis to play with him and his friends, but Louis had nothing in common with Jules-Armand. Instead, he preferred playing on his own in his chambers, shying away from the rough-and-tumble diversions in the courtyard. Because Jules-Armand’s bedroom was just across the hallway from his, he could sneak into Louis’ bedroom at night to play games. Or at least Louis thought they were games.

About the Author 

From Columbus, Ohio, Will earned his Ph.D. from the American Graduate School of Paris, where, in his spare time, he read memoirs and researched the lives of royals and their courtiers. He hopes to share his fascination with the Bourbon dynasty and its quirky inhabitants and, at the same time, weave the historical record with creative fiction. He has written articles for the Huffington Post, Age of Revolutions, BBC History Magazine, and Carine Roitfeld’s CR Fashion Book.

Blog/Website  |   Facebook  |   Twitter

Instagram  |   Newsletter Sign-up

Giveaway!

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

one of 5 ebook copies of The Bastard Prince of Versailles.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

99 Cent Book Blast! PRETTY POLICEMAN by Fifer Rose - Includes Excerpt & Giveaway!

Pretty Policeman

Author and Publisher: Fifer Rose

Cover Artist:  Pretty Indie: Book Cover Designs

Release Date: December 1, 2022

Genres: M/M Mafia/Billionaire Romance

Tropes: Mistaken identity, forbidden love, sugar daddy kink

Themes: dark themes, but taken fairly lightly and sprinkled with rom-com elements, professional/personal integrity vs. love

Heat Rating:  4 flames

Length: 128 000 words

It is the first in a series, but it can be read as a standalone. 

It does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

$0.99 sale runs from October 6 - 12

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

Getting involved with a mafia don was a horrible idea.  Falling in love with one was worse.

Blurb

Detective Micah Hart wasn’t sure when his fairly safe, predictable life became something more closely resembling a dumpster fire.

But if he had to pinpoint an exact moment, he would say it was the first time he went undercover as a prostitute in an attempt to bait the notorious serial killer that was stalking New York City’s streets – the media-dubbed Hooker Hunter.

It’s when Damon Romano plows into his life, with his fierce protective energy, and those thick thighs, and the bluest pair of eyes Micah has ever seen. 

If only he wasn’t also a temperamental mafioso in charge of running one of the city’s largest criminal empires.

Damon fixates on Micah, obsessing over feeding him and making sure he always has a coat.  He spoils him rotten with gifts and insists on taking Micah on as his personal escort – a “boyfriend” to get his nagging sisters off his back. 

It’s weirdly sweet, and Micah doesn’t know how he’s become a soft spot in the ruthless man’s otherwise hardened exterior, but it would be a lie to say he didn’t want even more: a real relationship with Damon.   

There was just one teensy, tiny problem with that.

Despite what Damon thinks, Micah isn’t actually a prostitute.  He’s a cop for the NYPD. 

Pretty Policeman is an M/M billionaire mafia romance, sprinkled liberally with rom-com elements, served with a side helping of sugar daddy kink and mistaken identity trope.  

Excerpt

“I should- I should arrest you,” Micah said, making sure to empathize his point by jabbing a finger into Damon’s sternum. 

It didn’t come out sounding nearly as intimidating as Micah meant it to. (Drunkenly tripping over your words would do that.) It was annoying, even as his lone sober brain cell was yelling at him to shut the f*ck up. Damon didn’t know he was a cop. 

Damon’s scowl deepened, but he didn’t move to remove Micah’s finger. “For taking that asswipe’s drink?” he demanded. 

“No,” Micah denied immediately. “For s-stalking, and being unconstitutionally sexy. It’s- it’s a violation to my eyes.”

Damon blinked. “I’m a violation to your eyes?” he repeated incredulously.

“Yes,” Micah agreed, drunk enough not to be completely humiliated by the words coming out of his mouth – thank God. “And your eyes. They’re unnaturally blue – they’re f*cking arresting is what they are. I’m arresting you for- for being arresting.”

Micah was sure he could have come up with more ridiculous reasons to bring the man in if he wasn’t so distracted by the feel of Damon’s hard body under his hands. At some point, the rest of his fingers had joined the one he’d poked into Damon’s chest, and they were currently tracing the ridged lines of muscle he could feel through the man’s dress shirt. For once, he wasn’t wearing a fancy suit jacket. 

If Micah wouldn’t have been so distracted, he might have noticed the way Damon’s features softened at his bizarre declaration, the man’s angry scowl drifting away. 

As it was, Micah was more focused on exploring Damon’s body. He trailed his fingers down his chest and stomach, hands inching to dive into the man’s pants, but, of course, Damon was wearing a belt. 

Not that that stopped Micah. While one hand fiddled with the buckle, the other attempted to wedge fingers into the waist band of the man’s pants. 

Micah had the vague, faraway thought that he was going to be the one who ended up being arrested – for public indecency. (He was attempting to grope another man in public, after all.) 

Luckily – or perhaps, unluckily – Damon was still in control of his mental faculties, and he managed to take hold of Micah’s wrists and tug them away from his crotch before he could feel anything more than a hint of scratchy pubic hair. “You’re smashed, aren’t you?” he demanded. 

Micah blinked. “What- what gave you that idea?” 

About the Author 

Fifer Rose is a happily married mother of four human children and two very spoiled cats.

When she is not wiping snotty noses or being bullied into feeding her cats (again?!), she can be found obsessing over M/M romance.  She loves all the tropes, some of her favorite being enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, sugar daddy, and mistaken identity.  She also has a penchant for A/B/O dynamics.

While Fifer is a sucker for angst, a happily-ever-after is a MUST in all she reads and writes.   

Unrelated hobbies include baking, attempting to golf (for her husband’s sake), and daydreaming about traveling.  (No actual traveling because did you see the part about four kids?)

Facebook Group  |  Facebook Profile  |  Newsletter Sign-up

BOOK 2 - COMING SOON

Giveaway!

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win

a $25 Amazon gift card

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

Review & Giveaway: WE COULD DO THIS FOREVER by Emerson Beckett ( We Could Do This #1)

We Could Do This Forever
By Emerson Beckett

We Could Do This Duet, Book 1

Preston James did things to me. Things that had me wanting more of him and his dirty mouth, even though I knew better. Things that made my heart race. Things that made me come to realize there was more to my boss’s best friend than met the eye.

Nick Reed

As one of the bartenders at Alejandro’s Bar, I’ve seen it all. I’ve even watched my friends, Christian and Cooper, both find the loves of their life. Six years after breaking up with my college boyfriend, I’m convinced that’s not the life I’m supposed to have until forty-five-year-old Preston James makes me the target of his relentless sexy stares and his straight-forward, dirty propositions.

Maybe being the object of his desire wouldn’t be so bad.

Preston James

The first time I laid eyes on Nicholas Reed, I knew I had to have him. There was something about my best friend’s bartender that captivated me. And I always got my way. But this twenty-eight-year-old grad student has me jumping through all kinds of hoops to get his attention. There’s nothing I won’t do to prove to him I’m exactly what he needs. I’m relentless like that and I won’t stop until he’s mine.

We Could Do This Forever is the first book in the We Could Do This Duet and is an MM Bisexual Romance. Additional tropes: Age Gap; Mutual Pining; Boss’s Best Friend; Secretly Wealthy; Humor.

Universal Link

Add to Goodreads

Carra's Review

I love an age gap romance, and the boss’s best friend/best friend’s employee matchup also caught my eye for this one. From the beginning I liked the main characters, as well as the primary supporting characters.  The author did a good job fleshing them out and covering their backstories.  

From the start, Nick was straightforward with Preston about making his degree and career start a priority, and that that was where his attention needed to be focused.  While Preston understood this, you know it would just be a matter of time before one or the both of them caved.  Even so, they were able to work things out for the most part so Nick could concentrate on what was most important to him.

If you’re a fan of the physical side of things in your romance stories, you’ll find that need fulfilled here once Nick and Preston do give in.  And when I say fulfilled, I mean really fulfilled.  I’m all for that, though I think the story would have be fine if the emphasis on this part wasn’t as heavy.  Rest assured though that these two are VERY compatible.

The inevitable drama does creep in towards the end as you would expect, and the cause of it is somewhat of a pet peeve for me regarding communication and expectations.  I do think there were some overly emotional moments on both sides, and Preston being a bit of a needy guy when it comes to Nick definitely contributes to the conflict.

Overall though, We Could Do This Forever was a 4-star read for me, and I think many contemporary M/M romance fans will enjoy this story.  This one is meant for readers 18+ for adult language and the plentiful sexual content. 

---

Enter the Giveaway:

To celebrate the release of We Could Do This Forever, Emerson is giving away an e-copy before its release!

Enter the Rafflecopter giveaway for your chance to win!

A Rafflecopter Giveaway

---

About the Author

Emerson Beckett is an avid sports fan and lover of M/M romance books. She loves her new career as an author of gay romance. It’s even more fulfilling for her when she can combine the two.

Emerson is the co-author of The Package Deal Series, which includes The Quarterback Keeper, Pass Interference, Unnecessary Roughness, Two-Point Conversion, Illegal Motion, Ineligible Receiver, and Roughing the Kicker.

Besides being a retired teacher and author, Emerson lives in North Carolina and has been married to the same man for 33 years. She is a mother of three, one of whom is proudly part of the LGBTQ Community and completely responsible for her addiction to MM Romance. Even though the kids no longer live at home, they filled the empty nest with an Australian Shepherd, three cats, and a cute bunny rabbit.

Website - Amazon - Instagram - TikTok - Facebook - Facebook Group - BookBub

---

---

New Release-Excerpt & Giveaway: STING IN THE TAIL by T.A. Moore (Carnival of Mysteries)

Sting in the Tail: Carnival of Mysteries

by TA Moore

Publisher: Rogue Firebird Press

Cover Artist: Diane Theis

Release Date: October 4, 2023

Genre: MM Paranormal Romance

Tropes: Unfinished Business, First Times, Ticking Clock

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 87 000 words/ 130 pages

It is a standalone book and part of a linked series by 19 other authors. 

It does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

The Carnival of Mysteries just arrived in Sutton County. They say if you cross the fortune teller’s palm with silver she can read your future like a map. Right now all Ledger Conroy wants to know is if he has a future.

Blurb

The Carnival of Mysteries just arrived in Sutton County. They say if you cross the fortune teller’s palm with silver she can read your future like a map. Right now all Ledger Conroy wants to know is if he has a future.

Back in Sutton after over a decade, Ledger’s plan had been to bury his father--recently deceased convicted serial killer and less-well known warlock, Bell Conroy--clear the property, and then finally wash his hands of being a Conroy. Instead there’s a cured human heart in the larder, a pissed off pretty boy who is definitely not human at the door, and a debt to the devil that Ledger’s just inherited.

Devil. Monster. Something like that. He’d not asked for its pedigree

Whatever it was, it's given Ledger a week to fulfill the terms of his father’s contract. Or else he’s never going to leave Sutton again. With pretty-boy Wren at his heels, more to make sure Ledger doesn’t skip town than to provide assistance, Ledger tries to track his father’s sins across Sutton. The problem is there’s so many of them.

Ledger is faced with old grudges, a Sheriff that thinks Ledger knows more about his father’s crimes than he’s ever said (and isn’t wrong), and a dead man with a book shop. Not to mention the on-going distraction of Wren, who can't decide whether to be a hindrance, a help, or just hot.

Luckily Ledger has a nose for this sort of work.

Sting in the Tail is part of the multi-author Carnival of Mysteries Series. Each book stands alone, but each one includes at least one visit to Errante Ame's Carnival of Mysteries, a magical, multiverse traveling show full of unusual acts, games, and rides. The Carnival changes to suit the world it's on, so each visit is unique and special. This book contains a dealer in dark collectibles, a man who's NOT people, and a monster with a debt it expects to be paid. 

Excerpt

BELL CONROY HAD died alone and unmourned.

There was no one to write an obituary, but he was Sutton County, Ohio’s most famous son. His passing couldn’t go unmentioned, even if it was a “just the facts” death notice in the Sutton Herald.

He’d been fifty-six.

He’d been released from prison on compassionate grounds when he was diagnosed with cancer.

Cause of death: suicide.

The families of his eighteen victims would probably never get the bodies back.

Sorry. 

Not famous. Infamous.

Ledger took the second turn after the red barn. The road was technically paved, but one of the downsides of being a well-known serial killer was that the county didn’t spend a lot of money on the upkeep of your properties. The rental car—the only one available on short notice—creaked and rattled as it jounced along the rutted, potholed road.

A half-hearted scarecrow had been strung up on the property line. It hung from a scrubby tree and stared at the road with Sharpie-cross eyes. A shock of red yarn hair had been stitched onto the burlap sack head. That was from the twenty-year-old mug shot. Between age, prison, and cancer, the hair had left this mortal plane years before Conroy had.

Ledger hit the brakes as he reached the gates and let the car roll over the cattle grid. He pulled onto the patchy grass outside the house, turned off the engine, and got out of the car. There was a white van parked in front of the house. Ledger rolled his sleeves down over his forearms and buttoned the cuffs as he stared at the vehicle.

He’d booked the flight the moment he heard the news about Conroy and driven straight here from the airport. It looked like that hadn’t been quick enough.

The vultures had beaten him to it. 

Ledger snorted to himself. 

One vulture, anyhow. 

He started toward the house. The driver’s side door opened as he passed the van, and Benjy Hark scrambled out. The lanky gray-haired man fell into step next to him.

“You’re too late,” Hark said. “I’ve already spoken to the son and made an offer on it as a job lot.”

“A fair offer?” Ledger asked.

Hark took a beat. “Fair enough,” he said, pulling his glasses out of his top pocket. “As far as the son knows, anyhow. It’s not like this lot is worth anything to him. I’m doing him a favor, really.”

“Well, him and your wallet.”

Hark snorted. He lifted his glasses and breathed on them to mist the glass, then polished the lenses with the end of his tie.

“And what?” he said. “You’re going to walk in there and offer him the black market value on his inheritance? Don’t try and kid a kidder, Ledger. You’re not any f*cking better than the rest of us.”

Ledger smirked briefly in response. He couldn’t argue with that. In their line of work—sourcing dark Americana for the sort of people that weren’t really people—it was hard to pretend otherwise. They were in this for the dirty money. Their only excuse was that the heirs had no way to capitalize on their dead relative’s collection. As a moral justification, it was thin.

To say the least.

Not that there was moral justification for much in their business. The Catholic Church had a monopoly on the bones of saints and the effects of the blessed. On the other hand, the trade in sinners and their leavings was an open market… and a profitable one. Who wanted to pray—and pay—for a miracle when they could wring a demon’s price from the junk that had soaked in a monster’s misdeeds for years.

And for the low, low price of cold, hard cash, Ledger would find it for them.

“I never said I was,” Ledger said. They reached the porch and climbed the three sagging steps to the door. Something had been scrawled on the wood in red paint, but it had been mostly scoured away. Killer? Murderer? It could have been either, Ledger supposed. Both were true. “But I know that Conroy’s heir isn’t going to take your offer.”

Hark slid his glasses on and squinted at Ledger through the lenses. Despite his best efforts, there was still a fingerprint on the glass. There always was. It was surprisingly easy to pick up minor curses in their line of work. 

“You’ve already spoken to him?” 

Ledger reached into his pocket. “You could say that,” he said as he pulled out the keys the lawyer had left for him. “I am him.”

He unlocked the door, stepped inside, and closed it behind him in Hark’s face. 

Look at that. It was like having your abusive, cultist dad drop dead was just all brightside and no downside at all.

About the Author

TA Moore is a Northern Irish writer of romantic suspense, urban fantasy, and contemporary romance novels. A childhood in a rural, seaside town fostered in her a suspicious nature, a love of mystery, and a streak of black humour a mile wide.

Coffee, Doc Marten boots, and good friends are the essential things in life. Spiders, mayo, and heels are to be avoided.

Blog/Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter

Instagram  |   Newsletter Sign-up  |  TikTok

Giveaway!

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win 

your choice of backlist ebook (5 winners) or

a $40 Amazon Gift Card (1 winner)

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

New Release-Excerpt: TREADING WATER by Alex Winters

Treading Water
By Alex Winters

Actor Tucker Crawford is having the worst summer ever. Thanks to a viral video of him trying to swim, he’s the laughingstock of Hollywood and his role in a hit TV series is in jeopardy. The only bright spot is Tucker’s sexy new swim coach, Reed Oliver, but even that has its problems—because Tucker is deep in the closet and has never been with a guy.

Reed Oliver is having the best summer ever. He’s just scored a high-paying freelance gig teaching a Hollywood actor how to swim. The two of them have the run of a deserted summer camp, complete with an Olympic-size swimming pool. But when cocky playboy Reed meets shy, virgin Tucker, sparks fly and Reed’s walk-in-the-park coaching job becomes a minefield of temptation. Once they kiss for the first time, there’s no way to overcome their mutual passion and no looking back. But after two weeks of secluded intimacy, can they keep their romance alive in the real world?

Universal Link

Add to Goodreads

---

Excerpt

One

 TUCKER

“DID YOU ever go to real summer camp?”

Tucker Crawford was about to answer when the rental car hit another pothole in the middle of the one-lane dirt road and rattled his teeth. Summer Stevenson gripped the steering wheel tighter and made an apologetic pearly grin beneath her oversized, bug-eyed black Breakfast at Tiffany’s sunglasses.

“Sorry,” she mouthed dramatically as she steered dutifully down the rutted dirt road toward their final destination. Hollywood royalty of a sort, Summer wasn’t necessarily used to driving herself places, let alone into the ass crack of Middle of Nowhere, Georgia.

“I was a little too busy working two jobs for those kinds of shenanigans,” Tucker muttered, clutching the strap of his seat belt a smidge tighter and girding his loins as if they were back on location setting up another “driving a rigged car through a crowd of zombie extras” stunt scene.

Summer clucked her tongue, and even though he couldn’t see them, he was pretty sure she rolled her predictably blue eyes just for good measure. “At thirteen, Tucker? Exaggerate much?”

She favored him with another frosty glance from behind her stylish sunglasses even as she gave him one of her trademark smiles—the kind that had been appearing on America’s TV screens since well before Summer herself was a teenager. “I mean, that’s when most kids go to summer camp.”

He braced himself as another pothole loomed, but his stunt-driving chauffer managed to avoid it. “Look, Summer, if we’re going to be fake dating for better ratings this season, you should probably know enough about me to remember that I didn’t come from the same, uh, silver-spoon background as you. You know, when reporters start asking?”

The GPS screen on the rental car’s glowing dashboard guided her closer and closer to Camp Run-A-Mok with every blinking purple arrow and whispered suggestion to “turn right in three-quarters of a mile” in just the most pleasant tone ever. “Please, Tucker, you make it sound like you were some kind of street urchin or something.”

The camp sign finally came into view. It was a giant arch, constructed of wrought iron on either side and the words Camp Run-A-Mok spelled out in giant pieces of distressed wood, like something you’d see entering the Triple R Ranch in an old-timey western. His stomach did another flip-flop, and not from Summer’s famously bad driving this time. He was nervous as hell about the next two weeks and what they might mean for his acting career, and holding it all in while acting like he wasn’t holding it all in wasn’t helping much.

It seemed oddly fitting that his fake girlfriend should be the one to drop him off at fake summer camp. Though they weren’t necessarily friends per se, they were at least friendly after four seasons together on the set of Suburban Dead. And their opposites-attract sarcasm had definitely kept the conversation on the way from the airport light, vaguely hostile, and occasionally humorous, all of which had served to take his mind off the unpleasant matter at hand.

At least until this very moment.

“No, you’re right. I wasn’t exactly homeless growing up, but I didn’t grow up in Beverly Hills being babysat by famous actors and actresses on the set of my mother’s movies either.”

Summer’s response was calm and measured, as if she’d had to defend herself enough times over the years to have a pat answer ready for clueless Neanderthals like Tucker, who probably should have known better. “Look, Tucker, it’s not my fault I was born to folks who were already in the acting game long before I came along, and I’ve spent every job since I started on TV proving myself worthy of what little career I have. So yeah, maybe you should know a little bit more about me before reporters start asking about us, Boo.”

The manicured brows arching over her sunglasses indicated she was aware she’d just made a verbal mic drop and that he should be as well. But they’d never spent much time alone together on set, and this forced proximity in the front seats of the rental were the longest they’d spent together, just the two of them, ever.

He glanced over at her with a curious, almost tentative smile. “Sorry, Summer, I guess we both have a lot to learn about each other, huh?”

Her façade was a practiced cool; she was not used to such personal revelations from her far less famous costars. “I’m an open book, Tucker. Everything you ever need to know about me you can find on my IMDb.com page. You’re the Mystery Man with the ‘salt of the earth’ background, remember? That’s what our little relationship ruse is designed to counteract this summer, remember?”

“I know, I know,” Tucker grumbled, as if to quiet the butterflies doing the jitterbug in his taut belly.

She sighed and joined him in glancing up at the towering rustic sign just before they drove under it, and the ominous gloom he’d been feeling all morning grew as the deserted camp stretched out in front of them like something straight from the set of, well, a horror movie.

Summer gripped the steering wheel tighter and sat up a smidge higher and nodded at him sympathetically. “Listen, I know you’re skeptical about all this fake romance business, but trust me, it’s going to be good for me, for the series, for getting us renewed next season, and especially for you.”

“So everyone keeps telling me.”

“Listen, between you and me? I think this whole ‘costar charade’ thing is an outdated piece of old Hollywood bait and switch, clearly. But it works, trust me. The fans love it, even if most of them know it’s total BS. And from a pure business sense? You’re the one getting the most out of this arrangement, Tucker, trust me.”

Summer was right, obviously. And even if she wasn’t, she talked so quickly, so confidently, Tucker had no choice but to nod and believe her. It had always been this way. Summer had been blessed with famous parents, boundless opportunities, and flawless good looks, but she’d made the business of Hollywood her business since she made her first million at twelve, probably. She knew her looks would one day fade and that her future lay behind the camera at some point, but until then Summer seemed bound and determined to put on her best dog and pony show in front of the camera. This year Tucker was along for the ride, whether he wanted to be or not. He just wasn’t sure which role he was playing yet—the dog or the pony.

Tucker supposed he should be grateful that she’d chosen him to parade in front of the photographers and reporters in the buildup to the next season of their long-running zombie series, which was streaming exclusively on the Nightmares Network.

And he was. But the whole situation of “pretend dating” vaguely icked him out, particularly since, in a way, he’d been “pretend dating” with every girl he’d ever hooked up with. But how was poor Summer supposed to know that? How were any of them supposed to know that, after so many years of practice? The show’s producers and publicists were all for it, but Tucker wasn’t so sure it was such a good look for him—or his career, such as it was.

Still, what could it hurt? A few staged kisses at random coffee shops, cafes, nightclubs, premieres, and downtown hot spots back in LA between filming, and a few “leaked” photos from on location down in Georgia would keep the PR campaign going until the series premier in the fall and ensure a big uptick in new viewers.

How hard could it be?

“Are you… sure about this place, Tucker?” Summer was pulling up to a small rustic cabin with a matching sign out front that said Camp Welcome Center. Her uberconfident voice and practiced steely exterior finally faltered just a smidge. Tucker only wished she’d let it happen more often, for both of their sakes. It had to be a terrible burden, fighting to prove her own worth at every turn when all anyone ever wanted to do was compare her to her famous parents or assume she got where she was because of them.

Tucker checked the address on the back of the business card that Costas Imperial, head of Scream Studios and the show’s executive producer, had given him on the way to the airport in LA that morning. “No, but… it’s the right place.”

“Yeah,” Summer warned ominously, clutching the steering wheel with two sets of white knuckles. “The right place for some cheesy ’80s slasher flick.” They shared a conspiratorial chuckle, no doubt for very different reasons.

She put the car in Park in front of the welcome center and leaned in closer, smelling of cinnamon and spice and old Hollywood money. “Are you sure you’re not filming some low-budget indie flick while we’re on hiatus this summer, Tuck? You know that’s against union rules, right?” she teased, skin sultry and shimmering from the cloying Georgia heat. If only he’d found her half as attractive as the rest of the world seemed to, being Summer’s fake boyfriend might lead to more than just higher ratings come fall. Then again, she was no more into him than he was into her. As she’d reminded him at least a dozen times on their way from the airport, this was strictly business.

“I wish to hell I was.” With the same trepidation he’d felt all morning, Tucker watched the cabin’s screen door open with an ominous creaking sound. “Then at least I’d have an excuse for feeling scared to death at the moment.”

Beside him, Summer’s leather seat shifted, and moments later, she squeezed his hand on the armrest between them. It was such a surprising gesture, he almost flinched. In the end, he was glad he didn’t. The very last thing Tucker wanted to do in response to the first genuine moment they’d shared off set was rebuff his notoriously private costar.

The tenderness in her grip almost matched the raw empathy in her voice as she said, “You’re gonna be fine, Tucker. You’ve got this, okay?”

He nodded as he reached for his door, wishing he was half as confident in himself as she was in him. Or, for that matter, half as good an actor as she was.

---

About the Author:

Alex Winters is the pseudonym of a busy restaurant manager whose curious young staff would love nothing more than to follow him around the dining room reading his steamiest, most romantic passages aloud! When not writing romantic holiday stories of various heat levels, he enjoys long walks with his wife, scary movies and smooth jazz. Visit him at www.awintersromance.com to see what stories are brewing up next!

Website - Twitter - Facebook - Instagram - Pinterest - Amazon - Goodreads

---

---