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Tuesday, January 30, 2018

Pre-Order Your Copy of Rome And Jules by Tara Lain


Rome and Jules
by Tara Lain

Blurb:

Two werewolf households, both alike in dignity….

Rome Siracusa, youngest son of the alpha of the nouveau-riche Siracusa pack, wants to be a faithful son and pack member, but he’s got two big secrets. One, he’s blessed with enhanced hearing, vision, strength, and the ability to shift at will. Second, he’s gay, a fact he can’t admit to his deadly homophobic father.

Rome crashes a party at the mansion of his pack’s greatest enemy, the ancient, pure-blooded Havillands. Jules, the gay son of the drunkard alpha, is being married off to a rich entrepreneur. Smitten and moved by the beautiful male’s plight, Rome tries to find a way to save Jules—while digging himself deeper into pack politics and navigating his own arranged marriage. Secrets climb out of the caves as the werewolf gods speak through the mouths of their children, and the two great families clash, suffocating the hopes of star-crossed lovers.


Release Date:
March 6, 2018

Available for pre-order at







About the Author



Tara Lain writes the Beautiful Boys of Romance in LGBT erotic romance novels that star her unique, charismatic heroes. Her first novel was published in January of 2011 and she’s now somewhere around book 32. Her best-selling novels have garnered awards for Best Series, Best Contemporary Romance, Best Paranormal Romance, Best Ménage, Best LGBT Romance, Best Gay Characters, and Tara has been named Best Writer of the Year in the LRC Awards. In her other job, Tara owns an advertising and public relations firm. She often does workshops on both author promotion and writing craft.  She lives with her soul-mate husband and her soul-mate dog near the sea in California where she sets a lot of her books.  Passionate about diversity, justice, and new experiences, Tara says on her tombstone it will say “Yes”!

You can find Tara at Lain

Presented By

Tuesday, January 16, 2018

Release Day Blitz: Deadline by Jennifer Blackstream




"The eye sees only what the mind is prepared to comprehend."





Deadline
(Blood Trails Series, Bk 1)
By Jennifer Blackstream

Blurb: 

As a witch with a dark past, Shade Renard knows the Otherworld isn’t always successful at policing itself. Humans don’t believe in magic anymore, and their ignorance renders them easy prey. So when an FBI contact hires her to consult on a possible haunting in a missing persons case, Shade seizes the opportunity to see justice done.

Her case takes an unexpected turn when an undead crime lord shows up on her doorstep. A bold thief stole the vampire’s little black book of secrets—and he’ll pay a lot more than an FBI consulting fee to get it back. To collect, Shade will have to confront a rogue sorceress, a vengeful wizard, and a lethally seductive fey, with only her wits, her growing magic, and a sarcastic pixie familiar.

Success means bringing a killer to justice and taking the first step to redemption. Failure means a war between humans and the Otherworld.

No pressure.



Available for purchase at 



Excerpts


“Didn’t you say you weren’t drinking soda anymore?”
I popped the top on the can of Coke and took a defiant swig, more than a little satisfied at the squeak of dismay that came from my judgmental familiar as she wavered on her perch atop my head. “I earned this. I killed a eurypterid before breakfast. Two eurypterids. And I almost died. Not to mention, Mrs. Harvesty kept me on the phone for ten minutes talking about that cat.
“I hate cats.” Peasblossom clung to my head like a living barrette. “Nasty beasties, always try to eat me like I’m a flying snack. Barbaric.”
“I love cats. I just don’t want to drop everything because Mrs. Harvesty claims her furry little child is having an emotional crisis.”
“Emotional crisis?”
“The kitten is refusing to come out of his mummy’s boot.” I held a sip of Coke in my mouth for a moment as if I were sampling fine wine.
Peasblossom snickered. “Puss in Boots.”
I snorted, then swore as carbonated soda shot up my nose, burning like fire. Peasblossom careened off my head in a fit of mad giggles as I ran to the stove and the faded blue hand towel hanging there.
“Blood and bones, that burns,” I wheezed, squeezing my eyes shut as I pressed the towel to my nose.
More laughter made me open my eyes in time to watch Peasblossom fly in a semi-drunken bobbing path to land on the counter beside the stove. Tears of mirth glittered in her pink eyes, matching the iridescent sparkles on her insect-like wings. “Serves you right for drinking a second soda.
I glared at her for a few minutes as I waited for the burning to stop. When I’d recovered, I replaced the wet towel with a clean one and deposited the soda-and-snot-spotted cloth in the hamper. “If you’re quite finished, perhaps you could run me through today’s to-do list? I want to make sure I didn’t forget anything.”
Still giggling, Peasblossom flew to the large desk in the dining room and picked up a sheet of notebook paper tucked beside the laptop. “Settle dispute between the hamadryads over who’s the eldest,” she read.
“Done. Once they realized the only way to age a tree is to lop off a piece of it, they were happy to call it a draw.”
“Find out if a goblin ate the Roberts’ dog.”
“No. Sgt. Pepper was hiding under the neighbor’s house again. Mrs. Barns just didn’t want to admit it because she didn’t want to hear Mr. Roberts accuse her of trying to steal his dog for the tenth time. Sgt. Pepper went home when he got hungry.”
Peasblossom peered at me over the top of the list. “Find an office.”
I took a long swig of the soda, avoiding eye contact. “Move it to tomorrow.”
“Again,” Peasblossom said under her breath. She put the paper down and hefted a miniature pen she’d taken from a child’s art kit. Sticking out her tongue in concentration, she made a notation on the to-do list.
Aluminum groaned as I tightened my grip. “I will do it.
“Of course you will. Because you’re going to be a real detective.”
“Private investigator. And yes, I am.”
“Mother Hazel won’t like it.”
I clenched my teeth. No, my mentor wouldn’t like it. I could hear her voice now, telling me to leave the battling to the wizards—witches had more important things to do.
Like play psychiatrist to a cat.
I strode over to the desk, put the can of soda down with a determined thunk, then snatched up a stack of Post-its and a black fine-point marker. Peasblossom watched as I scrawled, “Find an office today,” and underlined today three times. I stuck the reminder to the frame of my computer screen.
“You used a hot-pink Post-it. You must be serious now.”
I ignored her sarcasm. I would find an office tomorrow. It was time.



My instincts flared as I pulled into my driveway. The sun had set and it was dark, but the automatic light on my garage didn’t come on. I frowned.
“Did you disconnect the automatic light?”
Peasblossom curled against my neck, her wet dress adding to a sudden chill in the air inside the car. “No.”
Unease rolled down my spine. I murmured a spell, drawing a few circles in the air. “Lumen.” Three glowing balls of reddish light bloomed to life and hovered before me. I kept one over my head and sent the other two forward, illuminating my path to the front door. I didn’t open the garage door and pull in, but got out while I was still in the driveway, already preparing another spell as I climbed out of the driver’s seat.
“Revelare.” My power flowed in a wash of silver toward the house, probing for any foreign magic.
Nothing.
“Stay here,” I told Peasblossom. “If I don’t call for you, go to Mother Hazel and tell her everything that happened today.”
“But I won’t have anything to tell her unless I stay to see what happens,” Peasblossom hissed. “I’m not leaving you.”
“This might be nothing.” I kept my voice as low as possible. “The bulb may have burned out. Don’t be silly.”
“I’m not silly and I’m not stupid. You think there’s something bad inside. And a witch never ignores her gut.”
A lump rose in my throat, and I fought to swallow around it. “Please stay out here. I can’t bear the idea of anything happening to you.”
Peasblossom gave my ear a ferocious hug. “I’ll stay out here, but only as backup. I will never leave you.”
I waited for her to fly up and off my shoulder before straightening my spine. This was my house. My village. Whatever was here, whatever had violated my home, would be sorry. Power rose in my throat, feeding the spell I’d readied.
“Shade, look out!”
I whirled around and spat behind me. The spell hurtled through the air, and I had a split second to see a dark figure separate itself from the maple tree beside my driveway. The spell landed in the grass, the viscous blue fluid of the entanglement spell pooling in the tree’s shadow.
“Such attacks will not be necessary.”
A man spoke from beside me, smooth and masculine, voice heavy with an accent I hadn’t heard in a long time.
A very, very long time.
I turned, knowing I’d never call up another spell fast enough. I raised my hand anyway, needing to try, to go down fighting. A hand closed around my wrist, tight enough that I swore I heard my bones creak. I gritted my teeth and stared into the face of my visitor.
He was dressed in a suit that probably cost more than my car. Long white-blond hair brushed his shoulders and framed a pale face with sharp, graceful features. I couldn’t see what color his eyes were in this light, but it didn’t matter. I remembered his face.
He went by the name Anton Winters, majority shareholder of the Winters Group, a company that made the Forbes 500 list look like a gathering of struggling start-ups. There were whispers he had criminal connections, that he was former KGB. I knew the truth. And it was scarier.
Anton Winters had once been known by a different name.
Prince Kirill of Dacia.
A vampire.



About The Author

USA Today bestselling author Jennifer Blackstream is…odd. Putting aside the fact that she writes her own author bio in third person, she also sleeps with a stuffed My Little Pony that her grandmother bought her as a joke for her 23rd birthday, and she enjoys listening to Fraggle Rock soundtracks whether or not her children are in the car.

Jennifer doesn’t have spare time, but she makes it a point to spend at least one night a week with her sibling binge-watching whatever show they’re currently plowing through (currently Numbers on Netflix), and she ferociously guards quality time with her son and daughter. She cooks when she has the sanity for it—adding garlic to the recipe whether it calls for it or not—and tries very hard not to let her arachnophobia keep her out of her basement on laundry day.

Jennifer’s influences include Terry Pratchett (for wit), Laurell K. Hamilton (for sexual tension), Jim Butcher (for roguish flair), and Kim Harrison (for mythos). She is currently writing the series of her heart and her dreams, the series that has been percolating in her brain for the last decade…Blood Trails. An Urban Fantasy Mystery series that will combine the classic whodunit spirit with a contemporary fantasy setting. Expect mystery, magic, and mayhem, with characters that will make you laugh, cry, and probably stare at the screen with your jaw hanging down to the floor. Well, that’s how they affect Jennifer anyway…


You can find Jennifer at 




Presented By


Monday, January 15, 2018

Danielle Annett's "Branded by Fire" Blog Tour




Tour Stops


January 15, 2018 

January 16, 2018 

January 17, 2018 

January 18, 2018 

January 19, 2018 
The Simple Things in Life

January 22, 2018 

January 23, 2018 

January 24, 2018 

January 25, 2018 

January 26, 2018 

January 29, 2018 




Branded by Fire
(Blood & Magic Series, #4)
By Danielle Annett

Blurb:

Aria Naveed can't decide what's worse--being mate-bonded to Declan Valkenaar, the Alpha of the Pacific Northwest Pack, or owning up to the fact that she's developing feelings for him.

Her bond to Declan is the one thing keeping her grounded and preventing her new power from destroying everything and everyone around her.

If Aria doesn't tread carefully, especially where her heart is concerned, she'll learn the hard way that if you play with fire, you'll always get burned.







Available for purchase at




Excerpts


“Aria, you’re being unreasonable." He took a step forward and reached out for me. I sidestepped away, then put a hand on my forehead when the room began spinning.
“Unreasonable?” I ground it, “You asked men within the Pack to court me. You wanted to tie me to the Pack so you could use me.” I was practically yelling at him now. Maybe I wasn’t too tired to fight with him after all. This confrontation had been a long time coming.
“That was before …” he trailed off.
“Right,” I scoffed. “Before you bit me and tied me to you. Before you decided this little mate bond between us somehow made me your soul mate. Now you care about me as a person, is that it? But before I was just a tool for you to use and somehow I should be okay with it? I should be flattered that Declan Valkenaar, Alpha to the Pacific Northwest Pack, has picked me to be his mate? Is that what you’re telling me?”
I blinked hard as tears threatened to spill. Dammit, why did he have such an effect on me? I rubbed the ache in my chest and turned away from him.
He didn’t say anything for several long minutes.
I climbed into my bed and tucked myself under the covers as silent tears spilled down my cheeks.
The mattress dipped, and Declan slid into the bed beside me.
“Go away,” I choked out.
He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled my back flush against his chest.
“I’m a bastard.”
“I know.”
“And I don’t deserve you.”
“Glad you’re finally realizing that.”
I swiped at the tears on my cheeks and tried to pull away from him, but his grip was iron tight.
“But I love you.”
I sucked in a breath. He—what?
I froze, suddenly unable to form any coherent thoughts or words.
He didn’t say anything else, just settled in beside me with his arm wrapped tightly around my body and his legs now tangled with mine. I listened as his breathing slowly evened out and realized the exact moment when he fell asleep.

Declan told me he loved me. The bond that connected us flared to life at his words, and I suddenly realized, I believed him.


In the low light of the Compound basement, I stared at the glistening sheen of blood coating the palm of my hand.
I wrapped my arms around my shivering body and tried to ignore the blood now seeping through the thin cotton of my shirt. It was sticky, cold, and black.
Not human blood, I reminded myself.
My lips trembled. The moment when I’d found Daniel’s body flashed through my mind. His cold, congealing blood seeping into my jeans still haunted me. I shuddered.
This time, however, it wasn't the blood of an innocent coating my hands.
I looked down at Irina’s heart, inches away from my booted foot, where I’d dropped it.
Anger fueled my temptation to kick it.
I refrained—just barely.
Needing to look away, I turned to Irina's motionless form in the rogue cage. Her alabaster skin was beginning to sink in on itself, and her vibrant red hair seemed to have dulled in color, though I knew that wasn’t actually possible.
She should be ash by now, right?
I looked back at her heart beside me and was filled with satisfaction. She’d deserved to die. She’d killed him, an innocent seven-year-old boy.
Blackened blood appeared to ooze out of the organ and temptation finally won out as I nudged the heart with my boot none too gently. A smear of thick liquid darkened the black leather.
Definitely not a figment of my imagination. Not that I wanted it to be. Things just weren’t adding up.
I tried to shake the fog from my mind.

“What happened after you were abducted?” Declan’s rough voice called out.


Blood and Magic Series




About The Author

Danielle Annett is a reader, writer, photographer, and the blogger behind Coffee  and Characters. Born in the SF Bay area, she now resides in Spokane, WA, the  primary location for her Blood & Magic series.

Addicted to coffee at an early age, she spends her restless nights putting pen to paper as she tries to get all of the stories out of her head before the dogs wake up the rest of the house and vye for her attention.

You can learn more about Danielle on her website at www.Danielle-Annett.com or follow her on facebook at https://www.facebook.com/AuthorDanielleAnnett and on twitter @Danielle_Annett

You can find Danielle at 







Giveaway


Tuesday, January 9, 2018

Tara Lain's "Bleu Balls" Blog Tour


Blog Tour Stops

January 9, 2018 

January 10, 2018 

January 11, 2018 

January 12, 2018 



Identical twins. Unique love stories. 



Bleu Balls
(Balls to the Wall Series #7)
By Tara Lain

Blurb:
Double trouble. The McMillan twins, Robin and Bobby, are renowned for their talents—both as fine artists and for thrilling the various men who catch their eyes. As different in style and personality as their DNA is identical, they’re nonetheless best friends who divide and conquer, with Robin doing the serious painting and Bobby adding the sunny salesmanship.

But when their most important client decides Bobby must wield the paintbrush, the brothers revert to childhood tactics and switch places. Then along comes Micah, a handsome doctor who’s attracted to Bobby but invites Robin out to try to please his homophobic brother, and Paolo, the pain-in-the-butt client who thinks he’s wooing Bobby when he’s actually after Robin. Paolo harbors his own hidden pain that weirdly intersects with Robin’s, but pride and privacy conspire to produce what will either be a masterpiece—or end up as Dogs Playing Poker.



Available for purchase at


Also Available in Paperback




Excerpts


“Hey, gorgeous, want to dance?”

Bobby looked up at the attractive guy who’d been eyeing him for the last hour. “Oh, I don’t know—”

“Come on, Bobby, go. Go!” Rodney pushed Bobby out of the chair.

He smiled, but it took some effort. “Okay, so I guess yes.” He followed the man’s trim ass in nice summer-wool slacks toward the tiny dance floor in the lounge at the Rose. Jerry and his honey, Mick, were already dancing. The two big firefighters took up more than their share of the available boogie space, but they looked so happy it made Bobby tear up.

The guy turned and pulled Bobby into his arms. Clearly he intended to lead. Okay with me. “I’m Aaron, by the way.” The guy had nice hazel eyes and carefully brushed brown hair.

“Bobby.”

He started a not-very-complex box step. “You’re an artist, aren’t you?”

“Yes, how did you know?”

“I saw you at the Sawdust. I really like your stuff. Very unique.”

“Thank you.” Come on, be charming. “What do you do?”

“Stockbroker. Let me know if you need any investment tips.”

Bobby laughed. “Believe me, artists need tips on keeping their rent paid, although I’ll admit, we’re having a good summer.”

“We?”

“Me and my brother. We paint together.”

“Oh. Interesting. Keeping it in the—holy shit!”

Bobby looked up at Aaron and followed his line of sight to the door—where, sure enough, Robin had just walked in. Bobby waggled his fingers and called over the piped-in music. “Hi, dear.”

Robin waved back.

Aaron said, “But you two are identical.”

“Yes, of course. We’re the McMillan twins.”

Bobby felt Aaron react—somewhere between a jerk and a laugh.

“What?” Bobby looked up into a face that had been pleasant and now leered.

“Fuck, why didn’t you tell me you were Double Trouble?”

Bobby frowned. “Was I supposed to?”

“Shit, yes. I mean, what does it take to get some backroom action from you two? Hell, I can pay.”

“Pay?” Bobby pressed his hands against Aaron’s chest and shoved. “Get your hands off me, you pervert.”

“What?”

Bobby turned his tail and flipped it back to the table—but his insides rolled with anger and nausea.

Robin saw his face and sprang up. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Nothing I don’t deserve. He saw you and realized we were Double Trouble. He said he’d like to pay us.” Robin clenched his fists, but Bobby put a hand on his arm. “You can’t blame him for getting the wrong idea.”

“Oh? Watch me.” Robin stared pugnaciously across the dance floor.





He uncovered the paints he’d left on his huge palette. Plastic kept them wet so they could be used a second day.
Funny how he hadn’t minded pretending to be Bobby all that much. The world looked different when people expected him to be nice.
Clearing his mind, he faced the wall and began to paint.
A second later—maybe more like an hour—the scaffold began to shake. Okay, get ready to be your brother.
Paolo’s perfect face popped over the top, and he gave Robin a half smile that reminded him of himself. Robin plastered on the huge, pearly Bobby face. “Hiiiii!”
Paolo swung himself up and gazed at the wall. “Man, you made some progress. But you covered over some of the light parts. Decide against them?”
Robin planted a hand on his hip. “Yes, I didn’t think it deserved to be too sunny.”
“I like this better.”
“You would.” He arched a brow, and Paolo snorted a laugh.
“So did you get the pieces mailed?” Paolo kept staring at the canvas.
What the hell? “Uh, yes.”
Those piercing eyes stared at Robin. “Was Robin there when you went in?”
“Oh, yes. Yes, he was.”
“So he went to the post office?”
“Uh-huh.” Robin daubed some paint on the mural. What the hell was Paolo talking about?
“So you sent off that coat and jacket?” Paolo stood. Robin could feel the movement more than see it as he stared hard at the wall.
Well, shit. Coat? “Right.” Try to look engrossed.
Strong hands clasped his shoulders, and he was physically turned. Okay, Robin was pretty strong, but Paolo stood a good five inches taller and fifty pounds heavier, plus Robin wasn’t fighting. Paolo gave him a narrow-eyed smile. “I thought we could take up where we left off last night.” He leaned in and his lips captured Robin’s with an intensity that spoke of dark bedrooms, not narrow wooden platforms in the sky.
Do not give a shit. Those lips are heaven.
Robin dropped his brush—God knew what it did to Paolo’s $300 jeans—and wrapped his arms around Paolo so tight he could have been arrested for kidnapping. Paolo’s tongue scoured the secret hiding places in Robin’s mouth, and for a moment Robin forgot try to take charge. He just enjoyed and let one leg float up Paolo’s hip. Five inches doth not a solid contact make, but Robin humped Paolo’s thigh and pressed the heel of his hand against the big bulge in Paolo’s pants. Oh yeah, that got a moan of enthusiasm from Mr. Hunky Architect.
Robin slid his hands over Paolo’s hard-as-iron butt—What does he do with that thing?—and squeezed and released. Damn, if they lay down, could they fuck here? No, no lube or condoms. But a good blowjob could still be in order.
Robin released Paolo and started sliding to the floor. It took work to inch down Paolo’s fly over that mighty erection, but finally he achieved release and reached into a pair of baby blue boxer briefs to free the inhabitant.
“My oh my.” Long, sturdy, cut, and straight as an arrow.
Paolo just breathed—really loudly.
“Mine.” Robin licked the fat head and got a slow, soft moan from Paolo. Ah yes, encouragement. Wonder how far Bobby went last night? He laved the sides of the shaft, then, counting on the element of surprise, thrust that solid eight-inch dick into his mouth and down his throat in one smooth move.
“Holy shit!” Paolo locked his hands in Robin’s hair. Pushed and pulled back, pushed and pulled back. Robin’s tongue reveled in the smooth firmness of the shaft, the silk of the head, and the intrigue of secret crevices. “Oh man. Oh.” Steadily, Paolo pushed Robin in farther and farther—then suddenly, with a yank, he pulled Robin’s head away from his cock until he looked down in his face.
“Why’d you make me stop? You don’t appreciate talent?” Robin grinned.

Paolo gazed at him. “I do appreciate talent, and you’re loaded with it on every level. What I don’t appreciate are liars, and you sure as fuck aren’t Bobby.”


The Balls to the Wall Series






Volley Balls
Bk #1


Available to purchase at 


Fire Balls 
Bk #2


Available to purchase at 


Beach Balls
Bk #3


Available to purchase at 


Snow Balls
Bk #4


Available to purchase at 



FAST Balls
Bk #5


Available to purchase at 


High Balls
Bk #6


Available for purchase at


Prefer paperback?
The first and second book are now available in paperback! 









About the Author



Tara Lain writes the Beautiful Boys of Romance in LGBT erotic romance novels that star her unique, charismatic heroes. Her first novel was published in January of 2011 and she’s now somewhere around book 32. Her best-selling novels have garnered awards for Best Series, Best Contemporary Romance, Best Paranormal Romance, Best Ménage, Best LGBT Romance, Best Gay Characters, and Tara has been named Best Writer of the Year in the LRC Awards. In her other job, Tara owns an advertising and public relations firm. She often does workshops on both author promotion and writing craft.  She lives with her soul-mate husband and her soul-mate dog near the sea in California where she sets a lot of her books.  Passionate about diversity, justice, and new experiences, Tara says on her tombstone it will say “Yes”!

You can find Tara at Lain