Tuesday, March 29, 2022

New Release-Excerpt & Giveaway: BEASTS OF BURDEN by J.K. Hogan (The Black Blade Chronicles #2)

Beasts of Burden

(The Black Blade Chronicles 2)

Author and Publisher: J.K. Hogan

Cover Artist: Wicked Pixel Designs

Release Date: March 29, 2022

Genre: M/M Fantasy Romance

Tropes: Enemies to reluctant friends to lovers

Themes: Swords and sorcery, adventure quest

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length:  approx. 75 000 words      

It is not a standalone story. It is the second book in The Black Blade Chronicles series.

This book ends on a HFN, with the understanding that the HEA will be at the end of the 3 book arc.

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

The journey continues…

Blurb

Senne Clayward and Kasimir vas Hjardar continue their quest to rescue Senne’s young ward, Princess Sigrid, from the evil tyrant who has taken her hostage. After they follow through with a mad plan to sneak into King Prosper’s fortress that only halfway succeeds, the princess slips through their fingers once more. As they travel across the continent of Taleth, they are one step behind their quarry at every turn.

Encountering numerous obstacles and enemies both old and new, Senne and Kasimir doggedly pursue their goal while coming to rely on each other more than ever. The two unlikely companions enlist the help of a small band of adventurers to track the princess and intercept her captors while the armies of Toivonen march westward behind them.

Kasimir continues to grapple with the beast on his back—a lifelong struggle—while Senne must bare his soul to earn the trust of those around him. Can they survive the journey? Will they save Sigrid in time to keep her from harm and prevent the realm from plunging into eternal darkness? And what will be left for them after the dust settles?

Excerpt 

“You there. Halt!”

“Here we go,” Kasimir murmured under his breath. He turned to confront a group of greycloaks who had approached them from behind. None of them seemed to have any visible rank higher than foot soldier. Kasimir put on a carefully blank expression. “There a problem?”

“By royal decree, bearing arms within the city walls is prohibited. You are in violation of this order.”

“Oh, aye.” Kasimir nodded dumbly. “Saw the notices, I did. Smart idea, that. Only the notices was addressed as to say ‘Attention Senkalese citizens and Yesenians traveling within the city, by royal decree’ an’ all that. But y’see, we’re not Yesenian, an’ me mate here, well, he cannae read at all. So I figures it ’ad naught to do wi’ us.”

Senne cast him a puzzled look, no doubt wondering why he was putting on the thick Lunarii peasant burr. Kasimir’s reasoning behind it was sound. These guards were merely grunts. He had to confuse them enough to report to their commander, because without someone of higher rank noticing them, they had no chance of being put before the king.

Just as Kasimir predicted, one of the grunts, the one who seemed to be somewhat in charge, scratched his head and looked at the soldier to his right. “Does it say that?”

The other guard shrugged. “Well, yeah, seems right enough. Never thought about what happens if we catch an outlander armed up in the city.”

“We ought to fetch the captain, then,” said the grunt-in-charge.

His right-hand man nodded sagely.

“I mean you, ya bloody imbecile,” he spat. The foot soldier flinched and scarpered off. “Youse two, don’t move a muscle until the captain gets here.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Kasimir said in his normal accent.

Senne snorted quietly. The soldier gave them an odd look but didn’t comment. After countless minutes of the tension-filled standoff, the messenger returned, leading a man wearing a red officer’s cloak.

Upon further inspection, Kasimir realized he was not only an officer, but a decorated one. His cloak was pushed back off his shoulders so Kas could see he wore epaulettes studded with silver stripes and dripping with braided silver cords. The dragon emblazoned on his armor appeared to be inlaid with real silver, and the regulation bycocket hat had been replaced by an obsidian dragon-winged battle-helm. It all made for a fearsome sight, and Kasimir had to fight the urge to take a step back when the man approached.

When the captain reached them, he flipped up the visor of his helm, and Kasimir was surprised that he appeared much younger than he would’ve thought for a high-ranking officer, though the gray threaded through his dark hair proclaimed him to be middle-aged. He was handsome in that craggy, chiseled way Yesenians had—they always seemed to look as though they’d gone straight from mother’s womb to the battlefield and never looked back—with his square jaw, closely trimmed black beard, and slightly bent nose, as if it had been broken a time or two.

“I am Vilhelme, Commander of the King’s Army. Who are you and why are you in my city?”

“Commander,” interrupted the head guard. “These blokes said the arms notices only refer to Yesenian citizens, so I didn’t know what to do with ’em.”

The look Vilhelme turned on the man was nothing short of murderous. “That is absurd.” He turned back to Kasimir and Senne, effectively dismissing the ignoramus, and repeated his question. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“Just travelers passing through,” Kasimir hedged. “Here to trade for supplies.”

Vilhelme glared over his shoulder again. “In that case, welcome. If you wish to trade in the city, I am afraid you must surrender your weapons. They will be stored in the armory until you are ready to move on.”

Kasimir’s jaw tensed, his pulse thudding in his throat. “Can’t do that, friend.”

Vilhelme attempted a smile, though it was more a baring of teeth than anything. “You may address me as Commander Vilhelme and nothing else. If you do not wish to disarm, you will be escorted to the main gate so you may leave. In fact…” Vilhelme narrowed his eyes. “You should not have even gained entry with all those weapons. I shall have a chat with the watch captain.”

“No need,” Kasimir said conversationally. “We snuck in.”

Despite the smile, Vilhelme’s eyes glittered with danger. “Why would you do a thing like that?”

“We want to see the king,” Senne said. “Thought if we breached the wall, he’d come down from on high and deliver the mighty blow of justice.”

Vilhelme scoffed. “His Royal Eminence does not entertain petty criminals.”

“Oi,” Kasimir said. “Why don’t you give him a message for us, then?”

Vilhelme turned to face him head-on and crossed his arms as if he were bored. “I’m dying to hear what that might be.”

“Tell him,” Kas growled through clenched teeth, “that we’ve come for the girl.”

Vilhelme raised a fist to chin level, almost casually, and they were instantly at the sword points and arrow tips of the guardsmen who had tripled in number and somehow surrounded them. Easily thirty weapons, at least half of which would be aimed at a kill spot somewhere on Kasimir’s body. His vision wavered. His blood ran hot, pounding wildly in his chest and up through his neck, nearly choking off his breath.

“That,” said Vilhelme, “would be inadvisable if the two of you are in any way attached to your hides.” He cast a bored glance at the men around him, oblivious to Kasimir’s torment and the danger they were all in. Kas didn’t think Senne had noticed either.

“All the same,” Senne said, his jaw bunching with his frown. “Tell him the knight and the sellsword have come to collect our charge.”

“Well, I can’t say whether or not you’ll ever see the king, but you’ll certainly get a good long look at the inside of our dungeons,” Vilhelme remarked blandly. Then he gave his head guardsman a small nod. “Take them.”

About the Author 

J.K. Hogan has been telling stories for as long as she can remember, beginning with writing cast lists and storylines for her toys growing up. When she finally decided to put pen to paper, she found her true passion. She is greatly inspired by all kinds of music and often creates a “soundtrack” for her stories as she writes them.

J.K. resides in North Carolina with her husband, two sons, and their pets. If she isn’t writing, J.K. can be found designing book covers at Wicked Pixel Designs, creating fiber art and supplies at Earthbound Fiber Arts watching Hurricanes Hockey and, of course, reading!

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Monday, March 28, 2022

New Release-Excerpt & Giveaway: CURSED by Jackie Keswick (A Balance of Magic #2)

Cursed (A Balance of Magic #2)

by Jackie Keswick

Cover Artist: Jackie Keswick

Release Date: March 23, 2022

Genre: M/M Fantasy

Tropes: Friends to lovers, love vs. duty, soul mates, found family, worlds in peril, two against the world, hurt/comfort

Series Themes: the world is fragile, short-term decisions have long-term consequences, gifts are given for a reason

Heat Rating: 3 flames   

Length:  77 000 words

It is the second book in a trilogy.

The book does not end on a cliffhanger. Raijin and Sandro’s story ends on a HFN. The main story arc continues across all three books.

Goodreads

Buy Links

Universal Link

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK  |  PayHip

Apple  |  B&N  |  Kobo

Two friends. Two worlds. A selfish desire that threatens them both.

Blurb

Two friends. Two worlds. A selfish desire that threatens them both.

Raijin killed a witch and found himself cursed.

Sandro went to Raijin's aid and became an assassin's target.

Neither expected that they would trigger the biggest upheaval their world had seen in a thousand years.

And that it needed the love between them to lift the curse.

Cursed, the second book in the Balance of Magic series, is a slow-burn m/m fantasy romance featuring friends-to-lovers who become soulmates, irate death gods, curses, inept, narcissistic politicians, curious, compassionate witches, and a found family.

Excerpt 

France, Summer 1920

“Poplars and plane trees, beeches and birches, or a mountainside of firs.” Sandro stared into the bottom of his wine glass and tried to keep the misery at bay. “Is it really too much to wish for a few olive and lemon trees? I’ve not been near my grove in six years. Six years, Raijin!”

“I know.”

“What if they’ve dug it up?”

“Why would they?”

Sandro set the glass down. “To spite us,” he said.

Raijin stared at him.

“I know, I know. It’s not like me to think badly of people.” He waved a hand. “But what other interpretation is there for the way Tan Hao treats us? Every time we finish a task, he finds another one that keeps us from the base. Do you really think he does that to everyone?”

Raijin wisely kept his mouth shut.

Sandro was grateful. He’d never been a maudlin drunk, but the last six years had changed many things. Being prevented from visiting the only home he’d ever known… hurt. Even if he’d barely spent a day alone while the human world tore itself to pieces.

Maybe he shouldn’t complain. Especially not to Raijin. He hadn’t been home for far longer, but… He lifted a hand to summon the waiter and order another bottle of wine, when Raijin stopped him.

“Come along. I have an idea.”

“What kind?”

“The good kind.” Raijin smiled the soft, lopsided smile that Sandro had no defences against.

“Tell me.”

“In a moment.”

They paid for their meal and left the restaurant, wandering up the street towards their lodgings. They had their own courtyard garden, had food, and even wine, but Sandro had been too restless to stay home, and Raijin had indulged him.

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” He tried to express his gratitude.

“Doing what?”

“Indulging me. I’m… Ignore me.”

“Never.” Raijin unlocked the gate and ushered them into the place they’d made their base since the Armistice. It was clean, comfortable, and private. But it wasn’t home.

Sandro had no idea what Raijin meant to do, but he didn’t have to wonder long. As soon as he’d locked the gate behind them, Raijin took hold of his arm, opened the veil and tugged Sandro through.

Two steps later, scents of brine and citrus hit his nose. Soft, springy turf caressed his feet, and one look at the familiar trees had him fight back tears.

Raijin had brought them to the top of the Custodia base. Had given Sandro what he’d most needed: a visit to his grove of lemon trees.

If he could have touched all his trees at once, he’d have done so. Since he lacked that ability, he wrapped his arms around the nearest tree, and hummed.

The trees responded, impressions wrapping him up like a cloak: comings and goings, hot sun and sparkling raindrops, a storm from the east. Sandro soaked it all up like a starving man and shared his own experiences in turn.

After the first sharing was done, Sandro went from tree to tree, touching, checking, renewing his connection. When he joined Raijin at the centre of the grove and accepted the glass of wine Raijin had poured him, he hummed with green energy, his watcher sight as sensitive as it had never been before.

“I wish I could explain—” he began hesitantly.

Only for Raijin to wave it away. “It’s fine. You wanted to check on your family. I understand.”

Raijin wasn’t demonstrative.

But when he chose to make a point, he took Sandro’s breath away.

About the Author 

Jackie Keswick was born behind the Iron Curtain with itchy feet, a bent for rocks and a recurring dream of stepping off a bus in the middle of nowhere to go home. She's worked in a hospital and as the only girl with 52 men on an oil rig, spent a winter in Moscow and a summer in Iceland and finally settled in the country of her dreams with her dream team: a husband, a cat, a tandem, a hammer and a laptop.

Jackie loves unexpected reunions and second chances, and men who write their own rules. She blogs about English history and food, has a thing for green eyes, and is a great believer in making up soundtracks for everything, including her characters and the cat.

And she still hasn't found the place where the bus stops.

For questions and comments, not restricted to green eyes, bus stops or recipes for traditional English food, you can find Jackie Keswick in all the usual places

Blog/Website  |  Facebook group  |  Facebook page  |  Twitter 

Instagram  |  Newsletter Sign-up  |  TikTok  |  Patreon 

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Friday, March 25, 2022

New Release: SERVANTS OF THE CROWN: THE TURKISH PRETENDER by Garrick Jones - Includes Excerpt!

Servants of the Crown: The Turkish Pretender

by Garrick Jones

Publisher: MoshPit Publications

Cover Artist: Garrick Jones

Release Date: 24 March, 2022

Genre: Gay Historical Fiction; Spy Thriller.

Tropes: Circle of Friends; Master and Servant.

Themes: Betrayal, treason, the strength of friendships and the ultimate connection.

Heat Rating:  2 flames       

Length: 124 891 words/389 pages 

It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger

Goodreads

Buy Links

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK  |  Amazon AU  |  Smashwords

The book is also available in paperback

Intelligencers: men and women from all walks of life and from all sections of society, servants of the Crown who work for the Home Office gathering information vital to the security of the nation.

Blurb

Intelligencers: men and women from all walks of life and from all sections of society, servants of the Crown who work for the Home Office gathering information vital to the security of the nation.

London, 1855. While Great Britain is at war with the Russians in the Crimea, a cadre of disaffected seditionists and insurrectionists, made up of members of the aristocracy and wealthy industrialists, have set a plan into action that’s been decades in the making—a plan that aims to overthrow the Queen and to install a puppet king on the throne in her place. With the war raging and disquiet in the industrial north and in Ireland, their perfidious plot, unless stopped, threatens to bring about anarchy and revolution.

Aware of the imminent danger, Sir George Grey, the Home Secretary, has tasked The Brothers, a band of four men, friends of over twenty years, to root out the source of the infection, destroy the clique, and track down and eradicate its foreign pretender by any means necessary. From molly houses to state banquets, from hospitals to steam baths, from aristocratic households to the meanest of slums, the friends find themselves in a succession of increasingly perilous situations.

Like the mighty Thames, undercurrents flow swift and deep as they uncover plot after plot and treachery and treason in abundance.

Excerpt

“Fetch Christopher, if you please, Elam,” Lennard said.

“What? Are you going to have me manhandled out the door?”

“No, Terrence. Christopher is waiting for me with my riding equipage. I was about to exercise my horse and I shall do so once I’ve seen to Miles. You’ve paid me for the destruction of my window and given me a promise for the carpet, but surely you realise you owe me for the mistreatment of my butler?”

“You can’t be serious, Lennard. We’re talking about chattel here. Servants are no different from your carpet or your priceless window. He’ll recover. A quick slash across the chops is a lesser thing than one of my own servants might have received had one of them tried to grapple with me. How dare he touch a person of—”

Lennard strode quickly to Astley and grabbed the fronts of his jacket.

“Let me tell you this. Although I said I’ve changed, my hate for you still burns in my chest. How dare you stride into my house, abuse my servants, and feel free to do whatever you like. Remember this before you leave. One word from me to the right person and you’ll find yourself gasping for air as you descend to the depths of the Thames, your arms bound behind your back, and your feet chained to an anchor. You’d just disappear. Like that!” Lennard snapped his fingers next to Astley’s ear.

“Have care to whom you make threats, Lennard. I’m too valuable to the Prime Minister. I still hold a seat and a loyal group of Irish lords who keep him in power.”

“Threats against other men interest me not, sir. I wish to have nothing ever to do with you from this day henceforth … not ever. Do you understand?”

“You’re making a big mistake.”

“Not so big a one as you made by appearing at my door and forcing your way into my house.”

“I shall take my leave of you. But don’t think this is over. I’ll put it about that you dishonoured your uncle’s word.”

“Do what you feel best, sir. But, by now, my coachman will have arrived with my riding gear and is waiting outside the door. If I were you, I’d leave this very moment before I grab my whip and thrash the living daylights out of you. You can apologise to Elam on your way out for injuring his brother.”

“Apologise? Why, I—”

“Oh, and Astley?” Lennard added, interrupting the man by violently releasing his jacket and pushing him backward, his knees hitting the edge of the Chesterfield. “Putting it about that I dishonoured your agreement with my uncle? Well, two can play at that game. It would not be hard to start a rumour that you’ve dealt with your ward, Neasa, inappropriately, and that’s the reason you’re so reluctant to allow her to marry into one of the most noble families in the land.”

“No one would believe that for one moment.”

“People have been wondering about your reluctance these past four or five years, ever since Sir George’s son first approached you. However, now, with my new title, I will have the ears of not only the leading members of society, but also those close to the throne. An innuendo is as good as an oath, don’t you think? Even Irish baronets who hold some sway in parliament are not immune to gossip. You’d not be invited anywhere, whether the slander is proved or not. Everyone knows Sir Hugh was not a businessman, and although the sum you offered would make you out to be a villain at the best, the premature plucking of a tender blossom before its time … why, Her Majesty would send someone banging at your door.”

About the Author 

After a thirty year career as a professional opera singer, performing as a soloist in opera houses and in concert halls all over the world, I took up a position as lecturer in music in Australia in 1999, at the Central Queensland Conservatorium of Music, which is now part of CQUniversity.

Brought up in Australia, between the bush and the beaches of the Eastern suburbs, I retired in 2015 and now live in the tropics, writing, gardening, and finally finding time to enjoy life and to re-establish a connection with who I am after a very busy career on the stage and as an academic.

I write mostly historical gay fiction. The stories are always about relationships and the inner workings of men; sometimes my fellas get down to the nitty-gritty, sometimes it's up to you, the reader, to fill in the blanks.

Every book is story driven; spies, detectives, murders, epic dramas, there's something for everyone. I also love to write about my country and the things that make us Aussies and our history different from the rest of the world.

I'm research driven. I always try to do my best to give the reader a sense of what life was like for my main characters in the world they live in.


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Thursday, March 24, 2022

New Release with Excerpt & Giveaway: MARITAL BLISS: THE COMPLETE SERIES BOX SET by DJ Jamison

Marital Bliss: The Complete Series Box Set

Author: DJ Jamison

Cover Artist: Cate Ashwood

Release Date: March 22, 2022

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance

Tropes: Marriage contract, childhood marriage pact, and fake engagement are primary tropes. Multi-book set also includes second chance romance, bi-awakening, and cowboys

Themes: Us against the world, found family, acceptance

Heat Rating:  4 flames

Length: 3 full length-novels ranging from 85k to 100k. One novella of 38k.

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

Marriage contracts. Childhood pacts. Fake engagements.
Can these men stand together against all the odds for marital bliss?

Blurb

Marital Bliss includes three full-length novels and one novella that explore themes of love, acceptance, and true family.

Surprise GroomCaleb Taylor is shocked to learn his family could lose Bliss Island Resort — their home and livelihood — unless he makes use of a clause to marry the child of investor Louis Chastain. Sofia Chastain is more like a sister than a love interest, and Caleb isn’t ready to sign over his future. But Sofia has a brother, and Caleb has a plan ...
Surprise Groom is approximately 90,000 words.

Wrangling A Groom: Wyatt has wanted to marry Diego since they made a childhood pact, but life got messy and Diego slipped away. When his first love returns to the ranch for a funeral, Wyatt is determined to win him back and fulfill the promise that has never left his heart.
Wrangling A Groom is approximately 85,000 words.

Nobody's Groom: Colby likes everyone -- except the new cowboy on the crew who rubs him the wrong way. TJ is looking for a fresh start, not a young country boy who provokes him at every turn. They're both in for a rough awakening.
Nobody's Groom is a novella of approximately 38,000 words.

Faking A Groom: When Avery decides to call his father's bluff and produce a fiance, his first love, Rory, is the perfect man for the job. But with a love that never fully faded, not everything is fake...
Faking A Groom is approximately 100,000 words.

All four titles have been published individually as part of the Marital Bliss series.

Excerpt from Surprise Groom

“So, why did you track me down?” Julien asked before taking another, larger swallow of coffee. “Must have been important to brave the gay nightlife of Miami.”

Again, he was straight to the point. Caleb couldn’t prevaricate in the face of his directness.

“I came to ask you to marry me.”

Julien spit his coffee across the chipped laminate tabletop. Caleb grabbed a napkin to blot at the puddle while Julien gaped at him, brown droplets slipping down his chin. 

Finally, he swiped a hand over his mouth. “The f*ck did you just say?” 

“Just for two years,” Caleb said. “Sorry, I know this is sudden—”

Julien’s eyes were wide. “You think?”

“I have reasons. This isn’t some creepy stalker thing.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Julien said. “I thought you came all the way to Miami because you were secretly in love with me.”

“No, I …” Caleb caught himself, realizing belatedly that Julien was being sarcastic. “Okay, funny. Obviously, that’s not the case. It’s a long story.”

“Probably a story you should have led with.”

Hard to argue with that. “Yeah, I guess your bluntness rubbed off on me.”

Julien muttered something under his breath. 

“What was that?” Caleb asked.

“Nothing.”

Julien shifted, his eyes darting away to study the decor. There were several portraits of famous singers from the fifties and sixties hanging on the wall. Caleb recognized Elvis, Buddy Holly, and Patsy Cline. He assumed the diner was named for Holly’s song, Peggy Sue. There were also several autographed pictures of drag queens.

Sally returned with two plates of pie and slid them onto the table. They were perfectly triangular in shape, with a thick white foam overlaying the green layer. Caleb’s saliva glands activated just from looking at the picture-perfect dessert. 

“Anything else?” she asked.

Julien shook his head. “Nope.”

“We’re good, thanks,” Caleb added.

Julien fixed him with another of those challenging looks once Sally had click-clacked her way back to the front counter. It made Caleb want to squirm in his seat.

“So you want me to marry you,” he said.

“Yes. For two years.”

“You are aware I have a d*ck, right?”

“It was hard to miss,” he said. 

Julien’s skimpy briefs had barely contained his swaying dick while he danced at the club. But Caleb didn’t need that image in his head right now. Or ever, really.

“This got weird.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow. “Just now?”

Julien laughed, a warm tenor that curled around Caleb. It was a note or two deeper than his laugh had been when they went through their knock-knock joke phase at age ten. But Caleb recognized it. 

“Okay, it’s been weird for a while,” Julien admitted. “But I’ll bite. Why would I marry you, and why would you want me to?”

Caleb sat back, rubbing a hand over his jaw. Now came the tough part of selling Julien on his idea. “It would be like a business deal. A job, kind of. I have a contract we would sign.”

“Okay, that’s … not any less weird,” Julien said.

About the Author

DJ Jamison writes romances about everyday life and extraordinary love featuring a variety of queer characters, from gay to bisexual to asexual. DJ grew up in the Midwest in a working-class family, and those influences can be found in her writing through characters coping with real-life problems: money troubles, workplace drama, family conflicts and, of course, falling in love. DJ spent more than a decade in the newspaper industry before chasing her first dream to write fiction. She spent a lifetime reading before that and continues to avidly devour her fellow authors’ books each night. She lives in Kansas with her husband, two sons, one snake, and a sadistic cat named Birdie.

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