February 28, 2014

LM Somerton: Rasputin's Kiss

Please help me welcome LM Somerton with their new book "Rasputin's Kiss".

In 1928 an article appeared in American Magazine entitled “Twenty rules for writing detective stories”. I had a quick scan to see how many I had broken when writing Rasputin’s Kiss. Of course this book is not strictly a detective story. It is a murder mystery and the two central characters are detectives, but this book is really a romance (with a hint of kink!). I hope readers will forgive me for not living up totally to the rules of the murder-mystery genre.

Rule 3 states: “There must be no love interest. The business in hand is to bring a criminal to the bar of justice, not to bring a lovelorn couple to the hymeneal altar.”

Oops. Combining romance and detection is clearly a no-no, though I doubt in 1928 the author of this article gave much consideration to the possibilities of gay bdsm *grins*. Personally, I prefer my kink with a plot and I’ve never been known for sticking to the rules. I hope readers enjoy the combination...

Investigating Love - Series Blurb

Being thrown together in extreme circumstances is not the best foundation for a relationship. Alex and Conor must juggle the demands of their jobs as police detectives with their personal lives. With Alex as demanding in the bedroom as he is at work, will Conor be able to accept that submission is not weakness.
Finding out will be the most important investigation of their lives.

Rasputin’s Kiss - Book Blurb:

Rasputin’s kiss is lethal. He’s a ghost – killing and disappearing into the night. With few leads and four bodies on his conscience, Detective Inspector Alex Courtney and his team are running on empty and it’s only a matter of time before Rasputin strikes again.
When Alex recruits a young detective to play the part of his boyfriend and provide a tempting target for a killer, he knows he is taking a huge risk. He doesn’t expect Conor Trethuan to be a perfect potential submissive. When their mutual attraction becomes more, Alex has to face the conflict between his possessive instincts and the need to push his young lover into danger.
Investigating their feelings has to come second to investigating the case. There’s no time to decide if what they feel for each other is real. With Rasputin closing in, they may not live to find out.


They walked in companionable silence to a small Italian restaurant just around the corner from the station and sat at a table next to the window. The whole place was a cliché, with red and white checked tablecloths, candles in old Chianti bottles coated with solidified drips of wax and laminated menus that had seen better days. The atmosphere was warm and friendly, though, and the whole place smelt of herbs and spices.
A short, rotund man bustled over and greeted Alex like a long-lost member of his family. After effusive introductions that seemed to include most of the staff and half the customers in the restaurant, fresh bread with aromatic olive oil was left to tide them over while their food was prepared. Alex ordered for both of them, watching Conor as he did. The overt act of dominance made Conor smile wryly. He wondered if Alex had expected him to be annoyed. A brief look of satisfaction crossed Alex’s face and that gave Conor his answer. Conor dipped a piece of warm bread in oil and held it to his mouth, allowing the slick liquid to spread across his lips. He took a bite then slowly ran his tongue over his lower lip, chasing a stray drop of oil. Alex’s eyes widened and a hint of colour bloomed on his cheeks. Conor smiled innocently.
I think I have a wolf in sheep’s clothing here, Alex thought to himself. Well, an enthusiastic pup anyway. He could imagine smearing that oil in all kinds of interesting places. It was a delight to watch Conor eat. He twirled his linguine expertly, complimented the chef politely and smiled shyly at the waitress who couldn’t take her eyes off him. He didn’t encourage her any more, though, and Alex was secretly pleased about that. He bristled at the sight of other people casting flirtatious looks at Conor. Unfortunately that seemed to happen when anyone noticed him. Conor drew admiring glances from every woman in the place, and jealous ones from the men they were with. Alex wanted to growl at them, make it clear that Conor was not available, and maybe put a paper bag over Conor’s head so that everyone would stop lusting after him. Still Conor seemed comfortable in his company and was attentive. He wasn’t distracted by any of the attention—in fact he seemed completely oblivious to it.
An hour, and a pleasantly full stomach, later Alex decided it was time to let his latest recruit know what he was really in for. Alex wasn’t looking forward to confessing, but it had to be done. Both he and Conor had stuck to mineral water with their meals so he couldn’t take advantage of senses dulled by alcohol, which might have made things easier. Now they sat with tiny cups of rich, dark espresso in front of them and there were no more excuses or distractions. Alex took a deep breath and tried to focus on what he needed to say. Okay maybe there was still a distraction—a beautiful, dark-haired one sitting just across the table. Alex lost his train of thought as he admired the snug fit of Conor’s shirt, which effectively demonstrated a nicely tapered torso. How did the man manage to make a simple blue shirt look so fucking sexy? Maybe it was the open collar that displayed his graceful neck, or the rolled up sleeves that revealed smooth, toned forearms? The leather strap of his watch could so easily be a cuff, buckled tightly…

© L M Somerton

Buy links:

You can buy Rasputin’s Kiss today from Totally Bound at:

From 7th March, it’s also available on general release at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, All Romance CafĂ© etc. just search for the title.

Author bio:

L M Somerton lives in a small village in the English countryside, surrounded by rolling hills, cows and sheep. She started writing to fill time between jobs and is now firmly and unashamedly addicted.

She loves the English weather, especially the rain, and adores a thunderstorm. She loves good food, warm company and a crackling fire. She’s fascinated by the psychology of relationships, especially between men, and her stories contain some subtle (and not so subtle) leanings towards BDSM.


Twitter: @lmsomerton

February 26, 2014

Wednesday Briefs: Hope #22

Welcome to Wednesday Briefs, where authors post free fiction of 1000 words or less each week. I used the following prompt: “Watch me.”

Hope #22

Just fucking great.
My assumed-dead boyfriend was against all odds still alive, but after a death spell had gone wrong he'd ended up as a German Shepherd puppy and the only way for him to revert back to his human-form consisted of eating two dragon scales—one red and one black.
I breathed in and out deeply, or at least I tried. I only managed panicked gulps that showed more resemblance to hyperventilation than anything else.
“Sure,” I croaked when I found my voice back. “Nothing easier than that.”
“Young man, sarcasm isn't going to help you,” Marisa chided me.
“Lady, sarcasm is the only thing that's keeping me together at the moment,” I snapped back.
Her expression shuttered and the ever restless winding hands stilled in her lap. She might know the answers, but she was sure starting to tick me off.
That won't help you a single bit in a fight against a dragon. And that one”—she pointed at the closed mirror, then closed her hands around it—“wasn't even a grown-up dragon.”
My eyes must've been circular by that point. Even though I'd only gotten a glimpse of this creature, it had seemed gigantic—bigger than a two-story house. I swallowed and dug my fingers deeper into Shane's fur. I loosened my grip when he yelped.
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
Shane licked my hands before he cast an expectant look at Marisa. She scowled at him and, for a moment, I wasn't sure what was going on or whether I even wanted to know if they were holding some sort of silent council.
In the end, Shane broke the silence with a bark. Marisa's shoulders slumped as she said, “Shane... it's dangerous for you to go back. You can't even fight against the dragon in this form.”
“Does he have to fight at all?” I asked. “It looked as if the ground was littered in scales. Can't he just wait until the dragon leaves his nest and pick some up?”
Marisa gaped at him. Shane went completely still. In fact, he sat so quietly that I feared he'd stopped breathing.
“Guess I just said something incredible stupid, huh?” I asked.
Shane's answering barks rang like laughter and even Marisa chuckled. I gazed from one to the other, not understanding anything anymore. Not that I'd understood a lot in the beginning. Or at any point in the last twenty-four hours. Maybe I'd gone to Wonderland?
Shane climbed up my chest, wiggling in excitement. Enthusiastically, he slobbered puppy spit all over my face, all the while yipping softly.
“What?” I asked.
Marisa smiled at me. “Your idea is a stroke of genius. I can't believe no one ever tried to do it the way you suggested.”
“You mean everyone who needed dragon scales waited until the dragon showed up and fought?” I countered, bewildered.
She nodded. “From what I've learned, yes.”
Shaking my head, I said, “Why would anyone endanger their lives like that? Sounds stupid to me.”
Shane bounced from my chest and then over to the table with the tiles. We waited until he'd spelled out what he wanted: THIS IS WHY I LOVE YOU.
My breath caught in my throat. Since I didn't trust my voice, I simply held out my arms for him. He bulleted against my chest and I closed my arms around him.
“How does he get there?” I asked Marisa.
“He'll have to use a portal. I'll open it for him. A watcher will receive him and help him travel toward the ruin.”
“Great, I always wanted to travel between the worlds,” I said, half-joking, half-serious.
Marisa tilted her head sideways, obviously mulling something over. “No,” she said.
No? What do you mean no?”
“You will not go.”
“Excuse me?”
“Shane can't burden himself with you. You will not go.”
Anger surged to the surface and I welcomed it as it lent me strength and determination. I snarled, “Watch me.”


   Or you can visit us here:

February 19, 2014

Wednesday Briefs: Hope #21

Welcome to Wednesday Briefs, where authors post free fiction of 1000 words or less each week. I used: Go with the flow.

Hope #21

At first I tried to be open-minded, I really did, but after a few minutes my brain probably pulled the emergency brake. I couldn't follow her explanation—nothing made sense to me. For some reason, I kept my eyes on her face to give her the illusion I was listening, but nothing went through.
Shane nipped sharply at one of my fingers, which drew me out of my state of shock. “Ow!” I exclaimed, “What was that for?”
Shane flipped himself over onto his belly, cast me a withering look—and he really could pull that off, even in his puppy form—and stalked off my lap. He barked at me, then snatched the hem of my shirt and pulled.
Marisa raised an eyebrow and asked, “How long did you listen?”
Heat scorched my cheeks and I averted my eyes. At the same time, I tried to pry Shane's muzzle from my shirt. Would it be salvageable? I doubted it. Shane would probably leave tiny holes in it, what with the way he dragged.
I jumped when Marisa laid a hand on my shoulder. “Gil, how long did you listen to me?”
“You lost me rather quickly, and before you say it, yes, I know, I should just go with the flow but...” I gave a half-hearted shrug.
Shane stopped his attack on my shirt. Instead, he dropped the fabric and sighed. He climbed onto my lap again, then smashed his head right into my belly. I grunted at the sudden impact and mumbled, “Sorry.”
“Shane, what do you want me to do now? Should I try talking to him again?” Marisa asked.
There's another option?” I gazed up at her. The heat that had just begun to fade from my cheeks threatened to reappear in an instant.
“Yes.” She shot a meaningful glance at Shane who nodded.
Marisa expelled a long breath, then rummaged in her purse. She pulled out a small item that looked like an old, rust-colored mirror. She flipped the lid open and, with obvious reluctance, handed it to me. I took it with even greater reluctance.
“So, what? You want me to have a look at myself? Not that I don't know that I've seen better days but—”
Shane's barks rang in my ears but they sounded more like laughs. When he licked my face he panted, then he nudged my nose with his. After slinging his forepaws over my arm that was holding the mirror, he leaned forward and aspirated against it. The mirror's surface fogged and I was about to close the lid when all of a sudden the mirror grew larger in my hand.
The fog cleared only seconds later. Rolling dark green hills came into view. They stretched out till they met against a fast whirling river in the south and a forest colored in bright red, yellow, and orange in the north.
Shane repeated his earlier action and the picture blurred until a new one appeared. On top of the largest hill stood a charcoal-colored castle which had seen better days. The outer walls crumbled in places, and the large, arched gate banged open and shut in the breeze.
The picture rose up into the sky, where loads of fluffy white clouds surged ahead of the wind. I shrieked when something that looked like a black and red-colored dragon tore through the bank of clouds, screaming and breathing fire.
What the hell is that?” I asked while I willed my fingers to stop trembling.
This is only one of Shane's enemies. And that”—Marisa pointed at the castle that had seen better days—“was Shane's home when he was little. Now, it's a place for the dragon to nest.”
Shane's growl reverberated through his chest. His whole body tensed up and a fierceness , I'd only known in rare moments radiated from him. That one time when a burglar tried to get into our home, or the other time someone objected to me wearing a rainbow-colored shirt, or... I frowned. Shane had always been braced for a fight when someone threatened us, our safety.
He'd made sure no one could hurt me without much thought for his own safety. We'd argued about his behavior after each of these incidents, but in the end, he'd always distracted me until I forgot that he'd acted completely irresponsible.
My head spun already before Marisa declared, “He needs two dragon scales, a black and a red one, only then can he shift back into his human-form.”
“You heard me.”
“What does he need two dragon scales for?” I asked. I flipped the mirror's lid shut and threw it at Marisa, then gathered Shane in my arms.
My heart thumped even harder when Marisa replied, “He needs to eat them. Only those scales will be able to reverse the death spell's damage.”
Oh, great!


   Or you can visit us here:

February 17, 2014

Winners: The Power of Love Valentine's Day Blog Hop

With a little help from random.org I just drew the winners. Thanks to everyone who participated!

Congrats to....

First place: H.B.

Second place: Charley Descoteaux

Third place: Shadow

February 15, 2014

The Wolf and His Diva -- Available for pre-order

It's finally there! The Wolf and His Diva will be released on March 12th and it's already available for pre-order at the Dreamspinner website (you can get it even for 25% off right now).

Pre-order link: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=4765
George Owens is comfortable with his life just the way it is. A wolf- and fox-shifter, George leads a reclusive lifestyle with his energetic and diva-ish mate Billy, a fox-and squirrel-shifter.
George has no desire to take over leadership of the pack, despite his father’s wishes. Edward Owens is feeling his age and wants to make sure the pack is in good hands should he not be able to win his next challenge. However, George is adamant that he wants no part of it.
But events rock George from his complacency, and he realizes he has to take a stand and fight for what he cares about. If he remains in the past and cannot change in order to do what he must, he risks losing everything he loves.

February 14, 2014

The Power of Love Valentine's Day Blog Hop


Friday, February 14, 2014


Sunday, February 16, 2014.

Hello and Happy Valentine’s Day! I'm Chris T. Kat and I write M/M romance in a variety of sub-genres (shape-shifters, mystery, contemporary, light BDSM...).

Since you're hopping, I'm going to keep my post short. There are a lot of great authors to visit, don't forget to check them all out!

  1. First place winner gets a $10.00 Amazon GC.
  2. Second place winner gets a paperback of “A Purrfect Match”, plus bookmarks and two magnets.
  3. Third place winner gets their choice of E-book from my back list.

~ Tell me which is your favorite m/m romance book (bonus points if you tell me why it's your favorite).
~ I'd really like if you'd follow my blog.
~ Leave me an e-mail address, so I can contact you. I’ll give the winners 72 hours to respond, and if I haven’t heard back, then I’ll pick a new winner.

I hope everyone has fun during the hop! :)

I know it's completely unfair of me to ask you to tell me your favorite m/m romance book (okay, feel free to recommend more than just one) when I can't do it myself. I've enjoyed a lot of books but not many stay with me for days. The books that do, usually have a paranormal or science-fiction background. The one that kept me turning the pages and getting all moony-eyed was Julie Lynn Hayes' When Will I See You Again. I absolutely loved this story!
Then there are Joy Lynn Fielding's books An Impossible Mate and Liar's Moon. Joy has been a new author to me and I'm eagerly waiting for the next book in her series.

February 13, 2014

Lane Hayes: Better Than Chance

Better Than Chance by Lane Hayes

Thank you for having me on your blog today to chat about my new book, Better Than Chance! As a relatively new author, I have to admit I tend to think of myself as a reader first. I love writing, don’t get me wrong. In fact, I take great satisfaction at being able to successfully (I hope) capture a story in my head and put it into words. However, I love a good love story. Getting lost in a beautiful story with strong, interesting character is heaven!

As a reader, I am very open to any type of twist an author may want to apply to the tried and true concepts of attraction. Straight guy falls for gay man, rich guy falls for poor… or the good ol’ opposites attract. But here’s the thing… I need to believe in their story. That’s what makes a romance novel exciting to me. The voyeur in me wants to be a part of the journey. Although I’m not a huge fan of excess angst, the truth is nothing good tends to come easily. That is what Jay finds when he falls for his boss, the incredibly sexy Peter Morgan in Better Than Chance.

The underlying struggle between Jay and Peter is communication. They are a case of opposites attract, which makes things interesting but a little complicated. Jay is an open, friendly, easy-going man while Peter is not. He is driven, serious and competitive. I love the interplay of the guys as they navigate unknown territory. Their journey has its share of bumps along the way until they come to a point where they can’t deny they may have something special if they take a chance.

I hope you love Jay and Peter! Their story is the second in the Better Than series, but not to worry… it is a standalone book. So if you missed Better Than Good, don’t worry, you won’t be lost. Hopefully you’ll be curious to go back and read about Aaron and Matt too!

Happy Reading!
Lane Hayes

Blurb Better Than Chance by Lane Hayes:

Jay Reynolds has a crush on his project leader at work, but an office romance with Peter Morgan isn't likely to happen since Peter is straight. Worse, Jay soon fears Peter is homophobic, and his initial infatuation turns to loathing. But one fateful night, Jay is forced to acknowledge things aren't quite as they seem with Peter. Suddenly, his crush is back and unbelievably, Peter is interested too.

They begin a “friends with benefits” arrangement, which becomes difficult for Jay when he starts falling for his sexy boss. Peter’s past issues keep him from committing, and Jay has to decide if he can be satisfied with friendship if Peter isn’t ready to take a chance on anything more.

Excerpt from Better Than Chance by Lane Hayes:

“Close the door, Reynolds.” His tone was sharp and concise. No argument was expected or welcomed. I obeyed and waited for him to speak.

He didn’t say a word. He pointed to a chair and directed me to sit with a simple wave of his hand as he began a slow pace around the perimeter of the small round table. It was like being stalked by a tiger. There was an electric air of danger in this tiny space and I had set it in motion. I clung to my anger. I wasn’t wrong. Was I?

Peter suddenly stopped. He stood at the other end of the table with his arms crossed over his broad chest. As usual he was impeccably dressed in a gorgeous dark suit tailored to perfection. His dark wavy hair seemed a little longer. I absently wondered if he was growing it out. But his dark furrowed brow and intense stare told me to keep my ponderings to myself. He wasn’t in the mood to chat about hair. He looked pissed.

“Explain yourself.”

I blinked twice. I was almost afraid of him, but I knew that was irrational. I had a legitimate reason for my outburst. I just wished I had been a bit more professional about it.

“Fine. I will.” Professional, I cautioned myself. Don’t get personal. “You have given me rather baffling critiques, Mr. Morgan that I frankly find ridiculous and almost contrived in a way that suggests you want to point out the negative whether or not it has any bearing whatsoever to the project at hand.” Good, well said, I thought.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He looked genuinely perplexed.

“You know what I’m talking about!” I exploded. “Correct paragraph two, sentence one.... that’s one example! What was today’s going to be? Change the use of my pronoun from direct to indirect? Or is it an adjective that you want me to reconsider? Or...”

I had become so worked up that I didn’t register that he’d moved until he was three short feet away from me. He wore the strangest expression. It was a cross between tempered fury and frustration. He held up his hand in that authoritative way of his, demanding that I stop. Stop everything. Don’t talk. Don’t move. I waited like a deer in headlights to see what he’d do.

A fresh wave of adrenaline rushed through my veins as I found myself literally shoved up against the conference room wall with Peter’s large hand at my throat. I swallowed hard and looked into his dark angry eyes, his face was two short inches away from mine. His breath was warm against my cheek. He pulled back and shook his head as though puzzled by his own actions before he tightened his hold at my neck and covered my mouth with his own.

I could barely breath. There was nowhere to hide, no retreat possible so I gave in. My mouth melted underneath his allowing the lip lock to become a kiss. A fiery passionate joining. Our tongues fought for dominance, licking and sucking. Peter’s hands trapped my head as he plunged even further into my mouth taking every last bit of control away from me. He ran his tongue over my lips before tracing a path along my jaw and biting my earlobes. I nudged him back with my nose and heard his low groan as he once again fused his mouth over mine.

I wrapped my arms around him and pulled his body close to mine. My hands kneaded his perfect ass through the fine fabric of his pants as I sent my hips forward to meet his. We gasped at the first feel of friction as our hardened cocks pressed together through our suits. It was electrifying and wickedly carnal. A mere glimpse into how intensely hot the real thing could be if we let ourselves go there. Peter stopped abruptly, straightening his arms on either side of my head. Our heavy breathing was the only sound in the room.

“I want you.” He growled, resting his forehead against mine.


Purchase Links:

Dreamspinner Press:

Barnes & Noble:


5 Star Reviews for Better Than Chance!:
Sinfully Sexy Books:
Sidlove Book Reviews:

Author Bio:

Lane Hayes is a designer by trade, but is spending more time these days doing what she loves best. Writing! An avid reader from an early age, Lane has always been drawn to romance novels. She truly believes there is nothing more inspiring than a well-told love story with beautifully written characters. Lane discovered the M/M genre a fews ago and was instantly hooked. Her first novel was a finalist in the 2013 Rainbow Awards. She loves travel, chocolate, and wine (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband, three teenage kids, and Rex, the coolest yellow lab ever.

Contact Info:
Twitter: @LaneHayes3

February 12, 2014

Wednesday Briefs: Hope #20

Welcome to Wednesday Briefs, where authors post free fiction of 1000 words or less each week. I used: “What did he/she just say?

Hope #20

I hurled myself through the door, and at least had enough common sense to put Shane down on the floor before I knelt in front of the toilet and retched. Death spell echoed in my mind in a constant loop, one I couldn't find my way out of.
I was dimly aware of Shane standing next to me, pressing up against my side. Somehow the physical contact helped. Even though he was in the wrong body—too small, too much fur, too... just too different—he was alive.
It took me a while to stop retching and shivering. When I managed, I flushed the loo, staggered to my feet, and brushed my teeth. My reflection showed a white face with way too large eyes.
Maybe I'd heard wrong. Maybe I was going off the deep end. Maybe—
I cut my rambling self-doubts off and instead turned around to stare down at Shane. He was sitting on the floor, gazing up at me with the saddest expression I'd seen in a long time. After swallowing several times, I asked, “What did she just say?
I said that I'm assuming a death spell went wrong,” Marisa said. She leaned against the door frame, pity edged in her features. “I told you that you have a hard time understanding.”
You can leave that look of pity off your face, I'm not some fragile doll,” I snapped.
She straightened up. “I think you're exactly that—too fragile to deal with who Shane is and what being his lover entails. You'll be in as much danger as he is if anyone realizes Shane is still alive.”
Shane barked, then jumped up and down my legs. I bent down to pick him up, unsure how to respond to Marisa's words. Sure, I could flip—and honestly that option sounded the most tempting at that moment—but it would fit into her image of me. I'd never been called fragile!
Fragile,” I muttered into Shane's thick fur when I pressed my face into his neck. “No one has ever called me...” I trailed off. Shane nudged my nose with his cold and wet one. Shane had. He hadn't used fragile, rather delicate and sensitive.
It had bothered me in the beginning, but when he explained how much he loved my sensitivity, it became an endearment not an affront. Shane's forepaws dug deep into my clavicle as he kept staring on me; not with the sad expression from before, rather with a great deal of kindness mingled with mirth.
My lips curved into a lopsided smile. “All right, all right, but you have to admit that sensitive sounds much better than fragile.”
Shane barked and wiggled closer. I cradled him in my arms, securing his head on my shoulder. When I turned back to Marisa, a newly found confidence filled me. “Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm not cut out to deal with who Shane is, but he is my lover and I'll do anything to get him back.”
Marisa's face hardened. “You have no idea what anything entails—absolutely no idea, Gil.”
Then talk to me. Explain! I might want to wet my pants but I will do whatever is necessary to get Shane back. I was about to commit suicide, do you really think there's much to lose for me?”
Marisa gasped, whereas Shane keened, then frantically licked my face.
Hey, stop it!” I patted Shane's head, trying to thwart him from slobbering all over me, but he ignored my words and all my gentle prodding. “Shane, I won't do it, no matter what happens.”
Shane slowed his movements but the whine didn't stop. Marisa stepped into the bathroom and rested a hand on my arm. “I'm sorry, Gil. Why don't we move back to the living room and I'll try to give you the whole information.”
I nodded and followed her. Shane draped himself all over me as soon as I sat down, panting and whimpering occasionally. Marisa observed me with a steely gaze that spiked my heart rate, then she started talking.

February 11, 2014

Goddess Fish Promotions: Daisy Harris -- After The Rain

After the Rain
by Daisy Harris



They’re going to need a bigger tent.

Henri’s list of bad exes is as long as his arm, but nothing prepared him for his latest, heart-stomping breakup. He thought he couldn’t feel more abandoned, until his ride for a group camping trip bails, leaving him stuck driving for hours with a guy who is absolutely not his type.

After breaking up with his girlfriend of five years, firefighter Logan is working up the nerve to explore his interest in men. He knows he’s gay. He just hasn’t had the guts to do anything about it…until now.

Henri’s big-city attitude and tight jeans push every last one of Logan’s buttons, and when he and Henri have to share a tent, Logan is thrilled. He should have realized Pacific Northwest weather would get wet—forcing them to strip naked. Though the steam between them is thicker than coastal fog, Henri’s not sure he can let himself fall for another man. Not even the guy who finally treats him right.

Warning: Contains bad ex-boyfriends, even worse weather, and more than your average amount of sex in a tent. May not be suitable for those with germ phobias, outdoor aversions or fear of damp shoes.


Logan pulled off his helmet, and Henri did the same. There was a moment when their eyes met, Logan grinning and Henri grinning right back. Henri realized Logan was going to kiss him a split second before it happened.

Henri jerked to get out of the way before their lips touched, and though Logan’s kiss landed at Henri’s hairline, a thrill of panic still ran through him. No way. Herpes! Logan couldn’t kiss him, and Henri definitely couldn’t kiss Logan back. Plenty of other guys would have taken the risk—especially if it was just a kiss—but Henri couldn’t.

Oh.” Logan froze, his breath still in Henri’s hair. Slowly, he stepped back. “I’m sorry.”

No. It’s fine.” Henri held his hands palms up, wishing he could explain in a few words, but the guys on the ridge above were already calling to them, hollering that it was time for lunch.

I didn’t mean...” Logan turned away, hiding his expression. “I just mean it’s no big deal.” Shoulders curled forward, Logan headed up the stairs.

Logan,” Henri called after him. He hated this. If things were different, he would have been on Logan from the second he saw what he was hiding under his shirt. He would have kissed him and even given his dick a squeeze for good measure. Now he’d be stuck with half explanations all weekend. “Wait up.”


AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Birkenstock-wearing glamour girl and mother of two by immaculate conception, Daisy Harris still isn't sure if she writes erotica. Her romances start out innocently enough. However, her characters behave like complete sluts. Much to Miss Harris's dismay the sex tends to get completely out of hand.

She writes about fantastical creatures and about young men getting their freak on, and she's never missed an episode of The Walking Dead.

Want to learn more about new releases, general news and my latest inappropriate boy band crush? Sign up for my newsletter here: http://eepurl.com/b96xX

Daisy’s site: www.thedaisyharris.com


Daisy will be awarding a $20 gift card to Amazon or Barnes and Noble to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour, and a $10 gift card to a randomly drawn host.

 Follow the tour and comment to increase your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here:  

February 09, 2014

Elyzabeth M. Valey: Blind Beauty (Witches' Mischief Series 2)

Blind Beauty (Witches’ Mischief Series 2

Many things inspired the creation of Blind Beauty, (my love of fairy tales, The Golden Cock, reviewers…) but as it happens, music also played an important role. 

Crazy as it might sound to some, I write with music. Words flow easier and scenes become brighter if I have a tune to go with. When it came to writing Blind Beauty, I found that I needed something folksier and in a way magical. After all, most of the story takes places in Belmont Forest and there are strange things going on… (Aka a little nudge from a certain magic user).

James barely looked his way as they continued to trudge through the forest. Light was quickly failing, the oncoming night creeping on them. The temperature dropped and the moon rose, the soft white light bathing everything and creating a land of ice and shadows before their eyes.

I found my musical inspiration in German pagan folk band, Faun. Their album Von Den Elben created the perfect mood to create a world full of love, magic and adventure.

Sunshine illuminated her features and a soft wind blew her dark locks across her face. Her little nose was wrinkled and her mouth set in a thin line of concentrated determination as she saw things behind her lids that only she could glimpse.

One of the songs that inspired the beginning of the story was Faun’s cover of Schrei es in die Winde, a song originally from Eluviette (another great group, whose music was also a source of inspiration) and whose melody, for me, (since I don’t speak German), expresses hope. *Smile*

He was alone. Alone, in the middle of nowhere, and he was glad. Raising his hand in silent farewell to everything he left behind, he veered his horse and continued down the path away from everyone. Here, amidst nature, there was no one to mock him for his looks. No one to gaze at him with disgust or feigned interest.

His lips twitched and he smiled wildly. Kicking his horse’s flanks, he set at a gallop. He would never return.

I invite you to read Blind Beauty and listen to the music that brought James and Richard’s story a little more alive.



James Macintosh is hours away from his new home. He is ready to start a secluded life away from all the rumors, insults and disgusted faces concerning his appearance. However, a meeting with a mysterious woman and her child, mingled with a sudden harsh snowstorm will set him down a very different path than the one he had originally envisioned.
Richard Randywine is an accidental fugitive living with a band of rowdy thieves. A good man at heart, he has gotten used to hiding his emotions behind his strapping muscles and brute strength.  Yet, when the thieves ambush an unsuspecting rider, Richard is forced to drop his mask and step forward.
Will both men be able to see what lies before them or will they be blind to the possibility of happiness?
Available at:
Add it to your Goodreads

Author Bio:
Defined as weird since she was about eight, Elyzabeth honors the title by making up songs about her chores, doodling stars and flowers on any blank sheet of paper and talking to her dog whenever he feigns interest.
Losing the battle to the voices in her head is her favorite pastime after annoying her younger sister with her singing. Writing stories full of passion and emotion where love conquers all is her happy pill and she'll forgo sleep to make her readers live the dream.
Stalk me at:


He climbed atop his horse, as told. His back molded to Richard’s, his body betraying him as it molded into the other man’s embrace. Richard pulled him hard against him, his body enveloping him in an almost suffocating hug.
“Go,” he whispered huskily into his ear, his breath fanning it. James pressed his thighs against Faith’s flanks, hoping the animal would understand, considering the strange position she was in. She did, for she set off at a trot in the direction Richard indicated. They galloped in silence, trees whirring past them, snow flying when they swept past. James eyes widened and he barely controlled the urge to order Faith to stop as he realized their impasse.
“Richard, the hoof prints, the snow.” James pointed at the visible trail. “They’ll track us down as easily as the king’s hounds trace a fox.”
Richard’s breath was warm in his ear. His hair tickled his temple and James had to suppress a shiver.
“I know.” Richard chuckled. “Don’t worry. I have a plan, besides wishing that they’ll wake up during the night and we’ll be miles away by then or that it snows heavily again.”
James wished he didn’t have to worry, but he couldn’t relax. The problem wasn’t so much the thieves that could pursue them at any moment, but the man behind him. He was too close, too comforting, and all too desirable. James shifted in his seat again, trying to find a comfortable position. One in which he wasn’t pressed up tightly against Richard’s groin. One in which he didn’t imagine he felt the length of his cock hard against him. Because, he was convinced it was his imagination. Otherwise, how could a man like Richard be interested in him? It didn’t make any sense. In his experience, men like Richard were ladies’ men. They seduced, fucked and discarded women. He wasn’t a woman and he’d been rejected too many times in his life. He didn’t need this. He didn’t need more pain. Richard’s fingers brushed against his side, the fingers digging into his flesh and distracting him as arousal flared in every centimeter of his flesh.
“What got you into thievery?” he asked, attempting to forget how close their bodies were.
Richard grunted in reply and he fell silent once more, fishing his mind for a topic of conversation. It came up blank. He thought about asking Richard to stop. Faith was probably tiring though she didn’t show it and surely, they were safe by now. He should ask. James knew he should, but he couldn’t. He was losing his mind, falling prey to the liquid fire that was consuming him inside and outside. He wasn’t sure if the man was hard, but he was. His cock was stiff and throbbing, the idea of taking or being taken by Richard flashing through his mind every time Faith bounced.
What would it feel like?
Flesh both silky and hard as steel brushing against him, an intimate caress, deep and longing. They’d become one man, writhing, gasping, and moaning. James’ breath hitched, the tightness in his breeches becoming uncomfortable. He clenched his teeth together and grasped the reins so tightly the material cut into his hands. He scrambled to regain his bearings, to remember whom he was with and what had occurred in the last 48 hours. He couldn’t trust Richard, but neither could he trust his treacherous body. He was not a beautiful man. Surely the thief didn’t want him. The thief. That’s right, Richard was a thief. He had no morals, no scruples, no—James groaned as Faith skipped over a fallen log, throwing Richard’s body against him, the erection he was sure he was imagining grinding against his bottom.