Spotlight-Excerpt: THE HOT MESS PRINCE by Emily Spady

The Hot Mess Prince

Author and Publisher: Emily Spady

Cover Artist: Morganically Sourced

Release Date: October 13, 2023

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance

Tropes: royals, prince/assistant, opposites attract, romantic comedy

Themes: redemption, self-acceptance, family

Heat Rating:  3 flames

Length: 57 795 words/ 205 pages

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

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Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

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A sweet, snarky m/m romance with kittens, cheese festivals, royal gossip, and a guaranteed HEA.

Blurb

Neel Batra is good--no, great--at his job. A consummate professional despite all the chaos of managing one of the most notorious party boy royals in Europe, he never lets Prince Thibault get under his skin. Well, almost never. And he certainly doesn't entertain any thoughts or feelings that are less than professional. Especially after an image rehab campaign sees Neel and the prince working in closer conditions than ever.

Prince Thibault d'Archimbault may be a disaster, but even he knows certain things--and people--are off limits. Even if he can't help noticing his assistant's pretty eyes, and how fun it is to annoy him. Can he practice self-control for once in his life and stay out of Neel Batra's way, even while they work together on cleaning up Thibault's reputation? Or will things get distinctly ... messy?

Excerpt

“I don’t have a car.” Three years working for the prince, and the man knew nothing about him. Typical. “I rode my bicycle.”

“Of course you did. Doing your duty, right? Protecting the environment and all that.” Thibault had a smug little smile on his face, like Neel had completely failed to surprise him. “Doesn’t it ever get tiring?”

“What gets tiring is lack of sleep. Which is why I’m leaving now,” Neel said, making no move to get up.

“Stay here for a bit. Have a drink with me. I’ll get Viola to drive you home if you’re worried about biking under the influence.”

“Absolutely not. You shouldn’t be out here, either.” Neel pointed a finger at him across the hot tub. “We’re starting your twelve-step plan or whatever it is tomorrow and you need your sleep, too. More than I do. You’ll be the one in the photos, and we can’t have you looking all gray and hungover.”

Thibault shrugged. His chest was flushed from the heat, his hair curling into his eyes. “Honestly? I couldn’t sleep either. I’m… I’m trying to take this seriously, Batra. Whether you believe me or not. And it’s making me nervous.” He poured a refill into the glass and held it out. “Come on. One drink. Just stay and… talk to me. Until I feel sleepy.”

The glass was sweaty with condensation as Neel took it from his hand. “I’m only drinking this so that you won’t,” he warned, and finished it in one gulp, before he could have any foolish thoughts about how Thibault’s mouth had been on the glass, his pink, pouty, irritating mouth–

“You, er,” said Thibault.

“We’ve all been to university, your highness,” Neel said archly. 

“Yes, but you probably weren’t shooting 100-year Ankenbrandian pear brandy.”

Neel shrugged, feeling the red bloom of alcohol in his stomach, the tension beginning to seep out of his shoulders, his neck. “So, I’m to tell you a bedtime story now, is that it? Don’t recall it being part of my job description. But who knows what my job is at this point.”

Thibault took a swig from the bottle, then refilled Neel’s glass. “I guess I was just hoping that you had some plan for tomorrow. You’re so good at plans.”

Neel really ought to sip this one slowly, but he was enjoying how the over-excited clock in his head had finally started to tick down, and the stars were bright overhead and the mountains gleamed in the distance and Prince Thibault was glistening across from him like some male siren that had just emerged from the Aegean sea, and it was time, wasn’t it, that Neel told him exactly what he thought about all of this nonsense?

“You are the one who came up with all of this. There is no plan. You’re petting kittens, for f*cksake.”

“Right, but, what should I wear?”

Neel waved his hand in the air dismissively. “Something casual but expensive that shows off your chest. Do you really need me to tell you all this? Just pet the kittens and look cute. Why did you choose all of these things if you don’t even want to do them?”

Thibault ran a hand through his hair. “Well, I knew I needed to tell grandmother something. And they are things I wanted to do. Most of them. Some I chose because I knew they’d annoy you.”

“I thought so. Pour me another drink.”

“You sure you’re going to be all right? The water’s really hot, and you’ve had like four shots. I’m a heavy pourer.”

“You owe me, Thibault.”

The prince slid across the hot tub, and Neel flinched at the sudden hand on his forehead. “Hm, yeah, I don’t think so,” Thibault murmured. “You’re really warm.”

“Don’t pretend you care,” Neel said, holding himself as still as possible so he wouldn’t melt. “Don’t pretend to be responsible.”

“I’m not,” Thibault said. “But you are, and you’re going to be hating yourself if you’re too hungover to get a perfectly adorable picture of me and those cats tomorrow. C’mon, Batra, let’s get you up.” He hoisted Neel onto his feet. “Out we go. We’ve got a date with some baby kittens.”

“‘Baby kittens’ is redundant,” Neel said, and fainted.

About the Author 

Emily Spady lives in the Pacific Northwest of the United States with her husband and cat.  This is her first novel.

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Spotlight-Excerpt & Giveaway: BREAKFAST AT TIMOTHY'S by Richard Tyler Jordan

Breakfast at Timothy’s

Author and Publisher: Richard Tyler Jordan

Cover Artist: Darlene Dixon

Release Date: September 9, 2023

Genres: Mystery, Rom-com, Contemporary M/M Romance, Comedy

Tropes:  Wide-eyed innocent, Fanboy, Fish out of water, Amateur sleuth

Themes:  Innocence vs. experience, allure of fame, trust & betrayal, ambition and aspiration, complexity of human nature.

Heat Rating:  2 flames

Length:  85 000 words/ 311 pages

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

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In a city of stars, who cast the shadow of death?

Blurb

Fresh-out-of-college aspiring novelist Timothy Trousdale can hardly believe his good luck when he lands a job in New York City as a live-in assistant to his all-time favorite showbiz diva, Mercedes Ford. He’s seen all her movies. Spent oodles on tickets to her Broadway shows. And now, he gets to live and work in her swanky Tribeca penthouse. Surely, he’ll be leading the glamorous life rubbing elbows with A-Listers, who may even be able to help him fulfill his lifelong dream of becoming a famous writer. But rats … after just a few days on the job, Mercedes’ odious manager, Jared Evans, is found dead. Murdered, actually. And Timothy is a suspect!

Timothy had better find the real killer, and fast; otherwise, it’s bye-bye to ever seeing his name on the New York TimesBestsellers List and hello to a stretch of 25-to-life in the slammer. And that great guy he’s just started dating? Who’d ever want to get involved with someone whose address is The New York Penitentiary for Blood-thirsty Killers and Maniacs for crying out loud? Desperate to keep his life from completely shattering into a gazillion shards, Timothy sets out to worm the truth from an oddball cast of characters—including a sourpuss housekeeper, a vindictive former employee, a wacko Brit with delusions of grandeur, and even Mercedes’ unfaithful toy boy husband. Each of them may hold the keys to unlocking the mystery. Timothy is caught in a seemingly inescapable trap and must fight to save himself—and his favorite movie star, too.

Excerpt

First days on new jobs are generally fraught with anxiety and diarrhea. It was no different for aspiring novelist Timothy Trousdale, who had just landed a job as an assistant to his all-time favorite movie star, Mercedes Ford. He was excited and nervous and panicked and jittery because not only was he going to his new office but his new home as well. Curiously, the position required that he live in Mercedes’ super-swanky Tribeca penthouse, The Colton. That was totally cool with Timothy, who was thrilled that he could finally escape the hell of sharing an eight-hundred- square-foot studio apartment with two present—and future—losers.

However, August mornings in Manhattan have no respect for auspicious beginnings, and this one was punishingly hot and humid. Timothy had taken an MTA bus from 45th Street, and by the time he arrived for work— wearing his only pair of dressy jeans, a classic Oxford powder-blue button- down shirt, and used-to-be-white tennis shoes—he was more wilted and stinky than poised.

Dressed in a pseudo-military livery, the grouchy doorman casually surveyed the splotches of perspiration leeching through Timothy’s shirt. After a phone call to somewhere within, he unlocked the building’s front entrance and allowed Timothy inside.

Ahh! Heaven! Timothy had walked out of the sweltering steam of the city jungle and into an oasis of refrigeration that was the building’s two-story, glass-atrium lobby. He instantly and affectionately dubbed the space Arendelle in honor of his favorite animated movie, Frozen. “Let it go, let it

go,” he whispered, lyrics from the film’s hit song, trying to stave off a full- on panic attack. Other than that, and the squeaking sounds made by the gooey melting rubber soles of his shoes meeting the cold, polished marble floor, the place was as quiet as a mausoleum.

Timothy had been instructed to meet with the concierge, Mr. Fulton, who would provide him with the key to the penthouse. Key? He quickly found that with all the super-rich and famous people living here, access to their condo units was only possible if you had a bunch of technological ways to be individually and specifically identified and authorized.

After Timothy provided his Alabama driver’s license, a debit card desperate for an infusion of paycheck funds, and a Piggly Wiggly supermarket rewards card that he’d retrieved from the bottom of his rucksack as proof that he was indeed Timothy Truman Trousdale, Mr. Fulton tapped some numbers into his cell phone. Timothy heard him whisper the cryptic words “Du jour” and “two weeks, tops.” In a short moment, a burly man with a high forehead and no discernable neck, wearing a blue police-like uniform, appeared through a doorway marked Authorized Personnel Only.

Without so much as a goodbye from Mr. Fulton, Timothy was turned over to this imposing, no-nonsense guard whose badge read Griffin. Timothy couldn’t tell if it was a first or last name, but he was nonetheless intimidated by the guy. Griffin ushered Timothy into a suite of rooms that looked the way he imagined the Pentagon’s War Room must look. There were half a dozen computers and television monitors and an equal number of uniformed people watching screens and typing notes, presumably reporting the contents of their video displays: mainly empty corridors, the front entrance, and side exits of the building.

“Palm there,” Griffin said, pointing first to Timothy’s hand, then to a device that looked like an ATM. But where a keypad on an ATM might be, there was a flat, white surface with a red-lighted outline of a hand. He touched the pattern, then splayed his fingers between the lines. A moment later, the outline turned green.

Griffin then cocked his head to another device that resembled what Timothy’s eye doctor used during exams. “Retinal scan,” he said (although Timothy initially thought he said something a bit more personal and anatomical) and indicated for Timothy to place his chin on a rubber pad just below two lenses. He peered in, and a mesmerizing kaleidoscopic lightshow of colors swarmed before him. It was so hypnotic that he would have loved to watch it for hours. But, after a muffled ping sound, the machine automatically went dark.

“Voice encoding,” Griffin said, holding a digital audio recorder. “Speak clearly into the mic. State your full name, address, and the home telephone number you had as a kid.”

“What’s next? A microchip in my neck?” Timothy said. “Arff-arff!” The joke bombed. “How now, brown cow?” he added, enunciating each word distinctly. That, too, failed to elicit anything more than a look of irritation on Griffin’s face, so Timothy got totally serious and followed the instructions. Shortly afterward, with all the warmth of the monotone voice in a GPS app, Griffin said, “Your personal body characteristics have been extracted. You can go.”

About the Author

 

RICHARD TYLER JORDAN is a novelist and nonfiction writer. His books include Breakfast at Timothy’s and the Polly Pepper Mysteries series: Final Curtain, A Talent for Murder, Set Sail for Murder, and Naughty or Nice. Writing as Mike Melbourne, Kensington Publishing Corp. published Tricks of the Trade, Hunk House, Gay Blades (each of which was #1 on the InsightOut Book Club Bestsellers Lists), and One Night Stand. He has also contributed novellas to the Kensington anthologies Summer Share, and All I Want for Christmas (both of which earned Lambda Literary Award nominations), and Man of My Dreams. Jordan is also the author of But Darling, I’m Your Auntie Mame, a history of the fictional icon created by Patrick Dennis. As a senior publicist and staff writer with The Walt Disney Studios for thirty years, Jordan worked on the marketing campaigns of over 500 live-action and animated feature films. An expat from America, Richard now lives in England in a 16th-century cottage (with his husband and a definitely not scary ghost). 

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Review, Excerpt & Giveaway: WHEN A MAN LOVES AN ALIEN by Chloe Archer (Tentacular Tales #3)

 

When a Man Loves an Alien

(Tentacular Tales #3)

by Chloe Archer

Release Date: May 26 2023

Publisher: Rainbow Dreams Press LLC (self-pubbed)

Cover Artist: Natasha Snow

Primary Plot Arc: Romance

Pairings: M/M pairing (grumpy-sexy alien/sunshiny sci-fi nerd)

Genres: Romance, Science Fiction

Tropes: grumpy/sunshine, nerd, opposites attract, tentacles are fun, rom com

Story Type: Novel (>50k)

Word Count: 100,000

Amazon US - Amazon UK

Blurb

A grumpy-sexy alien and his (mostly) human mate are just trying to get married for goodness sake! But the road to matrimony is riddled with obstacles that could prove deadly...

RIVER

Being engaged to my adorable alien boo is a dream come true. Too bad there’s a target painted on my back. Come on universe, quit messing with true love! For reals. Kai and I need to plan our wedding—which is going to be hella quirky and fun, because I say so.

Cue Shilgar the Deadly, who’s screwing up everything—what with trying to kill me and all. My life is becoming even more unbelievable than my fictional characters, Lord Vardox and Captain Starblade.

There’s no way I’m not walking down the aisle with Kai, so help me! I fully intend to ‘get me to the church’—I mean Vegas wedding chapel—on time. This fool of an assassin thinks he can mess with my dreams of wedded bliss? I don’t think so. He’s about to learn he’s met his match in River Sullivan!

KAI

My relationship with River is solid and wedding bells are in the air. Unfortunately, other parts of my life are…less stable. Between juggling a highly inconvenient Mating Fever that can strike at any time, and dealing with an investigator from Intergalactic Alliance Headquarters, I’m finding it hard to hold onto my usual equilibrium.

When Shilgar the Deadly finally shows up on Earth, gunning for River, the control I cling to is stretched razor thin. I’m desperate to do whatever I can to keep my mate safe—but I’m not sure if I can.

Yet things aren’t all that they seem. New secrets come to light and we’re all left reeling. Apparently, that famous Earthling playwright was correct when he wrote, “the course of true love never did run smooth….”

When a Man Loves an Alien (Tentacular Tales #3) is a (96k words) M/M sci-fi rom com and the third book in the series. It should be read in chronological order. This installment features an assassin who just won’t quit, little old ladies at slot machines who should NOT be messed with, a zipline action-hero moment, shocking secrets and revelations, a death-defying climax, and just maybe…a zany Vegas wedding? This book has an HFN ending and no cheating. Never fear—there is a guaranteed HEA by the end of the series!

Warnings: sex involving tentacles, some violence

Other Books in Series:

1 - It's Not Unusual To Be Loved by an Alien

1.5 (novella) - A Very Tentacular Christmas

2 - Cant' Help Falling in Love with an Alien

Excerpt

RIVER

“Step right up and get your Tentacular Tales merch! We’ve got T-shirts in all sizes, made to accommodate folks of various shapes and appendages.” My old neighbor—and incognito alien—Tom Jones holds up one of the aforementioned shirts. “For those die-hard fans of our favorite villain out there, we have our brand spanking—no pun intended—new Team Vardox FTW tees!”

There’s an enthusiastic murmur among the crowd. Tom drapes the shirt over his shoulder like a bar towel and plucks up another. “For the more daring among you, we have I got tentacled by Lord Vardox…and I liked it or Villain in the streets, Tentacled-Lover in the sheets.”

There’s some enthusiastic whistling at that one. He tosses it aside and grabs a different one. “And let’s not forget about our Starblade stans in the crowd.” There are answering whistles and cheers. “Of course we have Team Starblade FTW. We can’t let Team Vardox have all the fun! We also have I’m too sexy for this shirt, and so is Captain Starblade or Tentacle Lover on the DL. Get your favorites before we run out!” 

Aliens of all shapes and sizes begin surging forward, cash in hands and other appendages, as they surround the folding table where Tom is selling his wares. 

I shake my head in awe, turning to my super-sexy alien boo, and now fiancé, Kai. “Did you know about this?” 

He shakes his head. “Nope. Looks like Tom took a cue out of your book and went the route of T-shirt design.”

I glance down at the black cotton tee I’m wearing. On the front, in multicolored sequins, it reads Team ANAL, and on the back it says in shiny metallic gold font, Kicking butt from here to Uranus. My design is a work of art and classy as f*ck—it also promotes team spirit, thank you very much. I’ve had quite a few orders from folks at work already. “Just so you know, I’m going to keep wearing this until it grows on you.” I beam. “I’ve got a different colored one for each day of the week!”

Kai rolls his eyes but favors me with a teasing smile. “Save me now.”

I give his arm a light and playful smack. “You know you love it.” 

His mouth twitches and he arches an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t go that far, darling. But I’ll put up with it for you.” 

I clutch my hands to my heart. “OMG, honeybuns. You’re getting to be sooo romantic! You just called me darling. It’s like we’re an old married couple already.” 

Kai flushes adorably pink and sputters. I love getting a rise out of him at moments like this. He can be a bit too tightly wound, so I have to help him let go of his iron grip on duty, responsibility, and propriety. 

I’m like Yoda, teaching him the ways of the Fun-Loving Force.

A microphone crackles to life and my new friend Nirblob addresses the crowd from atop the small impromptu stage against the wall at the far end of the bar. “Good evening, friends, and welcome to Vardox’s Cantina. Tonight, it is my supreme pleasure to usher in our very first Open Mic night!” 

There’s an enthusiastic round of applause and some loud whistles.

Nirblob grins, which admittedly is a little freaky since he has no lips. I still haven’t quite gotten used to that. “This evening, we are most fortunate to have a very special guest. Here to kick things off with a sneak peek from the next chapter in the Tentacular Tales of Captain Starblade, please join me in welcoming the one, the only, River Sullivan, a.k.a. KirklovesSpock4eva!”

The crowd goes wild, which in a super-secret alien bar can be a bit surreal. After all, this bar is mainly for extraterrestrials who don’t pass easily in human society, or ones who do but want the opportunity to be their true selves in a safe space. Some folks here make even Nirblob look somewhat ordinary. It’s a bit like being a real-life version of the Mos Eisley Cantina in Star Wars—only less violent!

“Looks like you’re up,” Kai murmurs, giving my arm a squeeze. 

I grin. “Give me a kiss for luck, boo.” 

He sighs at the endearment, but his eyes darken as he leans down and takes my lips in a way that makes me want to ditch this event and go get our freak on. 

When Kai pulls back, I’m tingly all over and more than a little hot and bothered. But I’m pleased to notice, as he adjusts himself discreetly, he isn’t exactly unaffected either.

“Knock ‘em dead.”

I give him a jaunty little salute. “Aye, aye, captain!” 

He can’t keep the fondness from his eyes when he tries to glare at me, which turns my grin into that of a lovesick fool. And I basically am. I have no qualms about owning it.

I make my way over to the stage, offering variants of high fives along the way—to a tail here, a hand with eight fingers there, a furry paw every now and then. Two months ago, I never could have imagined this would be my life. A longtime Roswell alien conspiracy believer and total X-phile, I—by some remarkable twist of fate—actually found aliens here on Earth, living incognito among humanity. 

What are the odds? 

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Carra's Review

This series continues to be a perfect blend of laughs, romance, and action.  Between the amazing characters, great dialogue, and extra surprises, the author keeps you on your toes…and may even cause you to burst out with a giggle-snort here and there.  Plus sci-fi fans will appreciate the references to shows and movies in the genre that are liberally sprinkled throughout the story.

River and Kai are very much entrenched in their adorable relationship, a classic grumpy/sunshine duo.  They’re swiftly moving forward, and the mating fever Kai is experiencing is certainly keeping things hot and sexy between them.  Kai continues to become more demonstrative when around others, particularly when River has just been saved from danger.

And danger is definitely plaguing poor River with an assassin after him.  Thankfully he has a lot of people on his side, from his Uncle Benji, friends, coworkers, and adoring fans—all willing to keep him safe and help root out Shilgar the Deadly before they can complete their assignment of offing River.  This makes for some interesting scenes and action.

There were a few spots here and there where thing may have gone a little over the top, but then again we are talking about multiple alien species living on Earth, hidden from humans, so that’s not too much of a stretch.  The author also threw in a couple of unexpected twists as things were running towards a dramatic peak that I did not see coming, but will make for some interesting points in the continuing storyline of the series.

I’m so glad there’s more to come, because I’ve been loving it so far.  When a Man Loves an Alien was a 4.5-star read for me, and I just can’t get enough of these characters—especially River with his awesome stream-of-consciousness rambles and popular sci-fi references (those do my inner sci-fi nerd good).  Be sure to read this series in order or you’ll likely be lost, but don’t worry—it’s a fantastic ride!  Recommended for readers 18+ for adult language and sexual content…including tentacles!

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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 one day 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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