Excerpt & Giveaway! Crooked Tree Ranch, Montana #1 by R.J. Scott

When a cowboy meets the guy from the city, he can't know how much things will change. On the spur of the moment, with his life collapsing around him, Jay Sullivan answers an ad for a business manager with an expertise in marketing, on a dude ranch in Montana. With his sister, Ashley, niece, Kirsten and nephew, Josh, in tow, he moves lock stock and barrel from New York to Montana to start a new life on Crooked Tree Ranch. Foreman and part owner of the ranch, ex rodeo star Nathaniel 'Nate' Todd has been running the dude ranch, for five years ever since his mentor Marcus Allen became ill. His brothers convince him that he needs to get an expert in to help the business grow. He knows things have to change and but when the new guy turns up, with a troubled family in tow - he just isn't prepared for how much. "... This is a beautiful love story between two men, each with secrets they are afraid to reveal. ..." 

At one point, when he was trying not to stare at the dancing, he spotted Liam across the room and they exchanged heated looks. Nate recalled the young guy bending over for him the last time he was here. Maybe he could get some more of that tonight. Maybe fucking Liam into the mattress would stop the irritating thought that he wanted to fuck Jay instead. Or that he wanted Jay to do the same thing to him.

Jeez.

Jay made it through three tracks of music, and when he made no sign of moving from his place alongside two men, Nate had to make a move. He sucked it up and joined the fray. 

Nate was immediately swallowed into the crowd and instinctively began moving to the beat of the song as he walked closer. When he finally made it to Jay’s side, he patted him on the shoulder. Jay spun on his heel and Nate held out a hand to steady him. 

“Cowboy!” Jay shouted over the music. 

In a sinuous movement, Jay gripped one of Nate’s shoulders and shuffled closer so that very little separated them. The two men dancing with Jay drifted off to face other dancers, and suddenly it seemed like it was just Nate and Jay swaying to the music. 

“You need to be careful!” Nate shouted close to his ear. 

“Why?” Jay shouted back. 

His breath smelled of beer and his body scent was a mix of the infuriating aftershave mingled with sweat and dust. Suddenly Jay became a four-course meal and Nate was very hungry. 

“Keep your eyes open,” Nate warned. 

As if to make that comment mean nothing, Jay deliberately closed his eyes and moved to the beat of the music. Somewhere along the line, Jay had lost his bottle of beer, or finished it, or whatever. He had both hands free, and he used them to steady himself by gripping hard to Nate’s shoulders. He had closed his eyes and was mouthing the words along with the song. Was he aware it was Nate holding him? He’d said “cowboy,” they’d spoken, but there were a lot of cowboys mixed in with the bikers and the other varied clientele. 

“Open your eyes, Jay,” Nate shouted over the music. 

Jay did as Nate had asked, and Nate was suddenly seeing brown eyes glazed with emotion. Then Jay smiled and closed his eyes again. 

Instinctively Nate steadied Jay and that meant his hands rested on Jay’s hips. The feel of the man beneath his touch was intoxicating and Nate held hard. Jay fit into his arms perfectly: a little shorter, a little slimmer, just the right height, and his lips, damp with sweat or beer—Nate didn’t know—were what he zeroed in on. Jay swayed with the music. The move took them closer and fuck, Jay was hard. Nate gave in to the temptation and pressed them closer still until he was sure Jay could feel how hard he was as well. 

All thoughts of impropriety or fears of rejection flew out the window. Nate was lost in the smile of pleasure that curved Jay’s damp lips. What would he taste like? Would Jay return the kiss? Would Jay push him away? How could he risk this? He eased his hold on Jay’s hips and slouched a little so that their groins aligned—suddenly they were frotting firmly and rhythmically to some Eminem mix. There was no way he could stop himself. 

“Can I kiss you?” Nate said into Jay’s ear. 

Jay smiled at him, but it wasn’t clear that he’d heard what Nate said. Hell, he should kiss Jay and stop all this delay in taking what he really wanted. Someone jostled him from behind and the movement threw him off his spiral of the pros and cons of denial. When the person who jostled them attempted to insinuate themselves between Nate and Jay, abruptly everything was clear. 

“Fuck off,” Nate shouted clearly to the interloper, and in a quick move, he got his first taste of the sexy city boy. The press of his lips against Jay’s was intoxicating, and they kissed and swayed to the beat of the music. Their hard cocks pressed together and—finally—the kiss deepened. Jay let him in and Nate took every advantage. Fuck the fact Jay worked for the ranch, fuck that they had absolutely zero in common, forget that Jay had a degree and a life that would take him far away from Nate’s world sometime soon. 

RJ Scott has been writing since age six when she was made to stay in at lunchtime for an infraction involving cookies and was told to write a story. Two sides of A4 about a trapped princess later, a lover of writing was born. She reads anything from thrillers to sci-fi to horror; however, her first real love will always be the world of romance. From billionaires, bodyguards and cowboys to SEALs, throwaways and veterinarians, she writes passionate stories with a heart of romance, a troubled road to reach happiness, and more than a hint of happily ever after.

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Excerpt & Giveaway! Swift's Temptation by J.R. Loveless

Small town farm boy Fagan Swift moves to New York City to escape the suffocating confines of his hometown and, after nine months of job searching, stumbles on a well-paying position at an escort agency. Once there, he meets the most arrogant, infuriating man he’s ever known, Xavier James. The sparks fly from the very moment they meet, igniting a fire between the two men that blazes out of control.

Too much champagne at the company Christmas party finds Fagan waking up in a stranger’s hotel room. Only his hangover is the least of his worries when he finds that the stranger is none other than Xavier, and a call from his best friend, Trinity, sends him winging towards home when his father ends up in the hospital. Blackmail and lust follow swiftly on Fagan’s heels and he has no choice but to give into Xavier’s demands to be his lover. His father’s life depends on it. Can Fagan survive long enough to untangle the web of blackmail Xavier has woven around him or will it drag his soul down into the darkness threatening to consume him? Previously published by Silver Publishing.

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Let me start by introducing myself. I am Fagan Swift, born and raised on a small farm in rural Iowa. Every morning I would have to get up to milk a cow or feed the chickens. Nothing ever happened in that boring little town, so I moved to this exciting place called New York City about nine months ago with my best friend Trinity. We’ve been friends since kindergarten and both hold the same opinion of our hometown. She developed a crush on me in the ninth grade, but alas, to her consternation and dismay, I’m gay. Yes, my name is unusual and I know you’re thinking ‘a fag named Fagan, how ludicrous’, but my mother wanted to name me after her grandfather, who raised her after her parents passed. And there was no possible way for her to know I would turn out to be gay. After I came out to my classmates, my given name certainly took on a whole new meaning for them.

Trinity eventually got over me and moved on. We are now roommates together in a small two-bedroom apartment overlooking a huge park.

They’re right about how this city never sleeps! You can hear sounds from every direction at any time of the night. The first night here, neither of us could sleep for all the noise, but now, nine months later, we don’t even hear it. I’m twenty-four years old with blonde shaggy hair that pisses me off all of the time because it’s always falling into my eyes. I constantly threaten to cut my hair off and Trinity constantly threatens to kick my ass. She says it looks sexier longer rather than shorter. I am six-foot-two and I have what Trinity dubs ‘foamy sea green’ eyes. My body is pretty much in shape from all the heavy hauling I used to do on the farm, and of course, tan from all the labor in the sun.

Like I said, I couldn’t take living in that small town anymore. Not only am I gay, but I also want to be an artist. My dad was pretty pissed off the day I told him I was going to the city and he has never really forgiven me for not wanting to be a farmer like him. Let me not even go there with the whole gay factor.

I am currently standing in the middle of the sidewalk in front of where I work. I can’t believe what I have been doing for the last six months. You would never guess in a million years what a farm boy like me does for a living. I work for an escort service! Don’t go freaking out just yet. My job isn’t one of those escort services you hear about, since I’m not required to have sex with the women that come through the agency. Some of the other escorts do by choice, but I had explained to the owner early on that I was gay and he’d been fine with it. Victor Harrison is the greatest boss I have ever had. He is breathtakingly gorgeous, but alas, straight.

The job had fallen into my lap. Literally! Six months ago, give or take a few days, I was sitting outside a small café enjoying my coffee and scanning the classifieds yet again. I had already had six different jobs but none of them suited me. I would either get fired or quit after a few weeks of being treated like shit. Anyway, my cup was sitting on the table while I was circling an ad with potential when there was loud barking. A man shouted and suddenly a dog was in my lap, coffee flying everywhere. I sat there stunned, looking at this two-ton gorilla sitting on me.

“What the hell!” I exclaimed just as the gorilla decided to clean the coffee off my face. I spluttered and gagged when its tongue accidentally slipped inside my mouth because my lips were open. Disgusting!

“Hercules! Get off of him! Now!”

The dog whined and leapt off my lap to sit beside me, wagging his tail. It was a huge Saint Bernard. In New York City! How inappropriate is that?

I looked up and suddenly found the most gorgeous man standing there with an apologetic expression on his face. “I’m so sorry. He gets excited sometimes, and tends to run away from me. I’m Victor Harrison.”

He was about an inch or so taller than me, with shoulder-length dark brown hair, wire-framed glasses, and gleaming bright blue eyes. I felt myself begin to drool and wiped my lips. “Fagan Swift. That’s all right. I’m kind of used to large animals.” I laughed and gestured for him to sit.

“At least let me buy you a cup of coffee to replace the one Hercules spilled,” Victor offered, motioning to the pretty waitress standing a few feet away.

“It’s fine. I was almost finished anyway.” I stood up with a sigh as I looked at my coffee splattered clothing and the newspaper on the table.

“Hercules, I oughta make a carpet out of you!” When Victor saw the classifieds sitting open on the table he asked, “Are you looking for a job?”

His eyes ran over my body in an intense perusal I could feel straight to my bones. Those blue eyes were sliding down my legs and back up again to my face. I almost fainted from the lust that shot through me. Down, boy, I barked at myself mentally. He’s probably straight.

“Well, yeah. Kind of. Why?” I raised a hand to brush my hair away from my eyes and then rub sheepishly at the back of my neck.

“I run a service that you look like you could be perfect for. Would you be interested?”

“That depends. What kind of service?” I was suspicious at first. You never know exactly what someone’s offering, especially after the way the guy checked me out.

“Why don’t you walk with me back to my office? I’ll explain it to you once we get there.” Victor handed the waitress a twenty and grabbed Hercules’ leash to lead him away. He stopped to smile back over his shoulder. “Come on.”

I trailed behind slightly, my eyes straying to the hard ass rippling beneath his slacks. I couldn’t help myself. He was made like a god! We walked for a few blocks while he asked me questions about why I had come to live in the city. I explained about the small town and how I just couldn’t take living there anymore with how isolated it felt. He understood, to my surprise, because he was also from a small town in South Dakota.

A few blocks later, we stood in front of a huge building with a sign at the top in big red letters stating, “Temptation”. My eyes widened as I took in the impressive structure before me. I looked at him questioningly and he motioned for me to follow him inside.

J.R. Loveless is a native Floridian who spends her days in an office physically but mentally is frolicking between the pages of her imagination. Writing has been a lifelong passion that escaped from her in the midst of life until she discovered Yaoi. After following breadcrumbs of the anime style, she discovered a forum dedicated to the world of Yaoi. Inspired, she tried her own hand at M/M romances, spending hours building worlds of her own with the newfound support of other forum members. She can never write enough of the electrifying emotions that blaze across the hearts and souls of her characters.

She is a self-confessed Dr. Who addict with a spastic dog and a neurotic cat for companions on her long journey through the many chapters of her life. One day she hopes to visit far off places and have grand adventures like those of the characters in her stories.

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Excerpt & Giveaway! Web of Deceit, The Deceptive Lovers #1 by Lauren Reign

FBI Special Agent Colton Brady is an important person in Kalliope Winters’s life. He’s been her savior, pulling her out of the darkest of days and rescuing her from herself on more than one occasion. She trusts him implicitly, but he’s hiding something, and it may cost them their lives. A cracked serial killer obsessed with Kalli is stalking her. She’s completely unaware of this until she wakes up painfully zip-tied to a chair, severely beaten, and close to death. Now she has to rely on Jaxxon, Colton’s twin brother, a man she’s craved since adolescence, to keep her safe. Jaxxon is moody, arrogant, and bossy as all hell. His demeanor is as lethal as his sinfully good looks and he will stop at nothing to keep his current assignment, Kalli, alive. But Jaxxon is also lying to her.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” I blurt out, tapping my fingers against the hard counter.

He cocks his head to the side. “I’m sorry?”

“Or a wife or something?” I add just in case. I haven’t seen a ring on his finger, but Jaxxon doesn’t strike me as someone who would wear jewelry even if he were taken.

He places both palms on the island, leaning toward me slightly, scowling. “Kalli, I get that you don’t know me very well, so let me inform you on the kind of man I am. I am not the kind of man who if I had a good woman waiting on me, I would be sharing a roof with another woman. I am not the kind of man that would spend my time protecting you if my woman were alone,unprotected, someplace else. And I am definitely not the kind of man who would call someone who wasn’t his woman ‘gorgeous.’ You get me?”

His comment would be seriously erotic, if he didn’t look so chilling while saying it. It’s annoying that he can’t just smile and have a normal conversation. “I’m surprised, I mean with your lovely, sunny disposition and all…” I mumble, while jumping off the chair. A knock on the door has both our heads turning.

This is my debut novel published by The Wild Rose Press

Lauren Reign is a graduate of The University of Tampa. She currently resides in Tampa, Florida, with her fiancé and their two rambunctious dogs. She is an avid reader, suffering from an obsession with all things romance. When she’s not engrossed in getting the characters in her head down on paper, she’s busy saving the world, one spray tan at a time.

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Excerpt & Giveaway! Dirty Martini 2 - The Screwdriver, The Other Team #8 by G.R. George

Marty Lincoln and Chris Lawson are only happy when they’re in each other’s arms. Unfortunately, their relationship remains long-distance as Marty completes his final months in the Army. Chris has a new and challenging job that keeps him busy, but he yearns every day for Marty. Marty suffers from PTSD and needs Chris as his anchor. Time apart feeds the doubts each man harbors as they deal with their tragic pasts and try to hold on to the love blooming between them. Will fear make them give up before they even get started? Or will love find a way?

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Mid-August…

Marty pulled up into the parking lot of Chris’s apartment complex in his mid-sized rental car. The evening heat and humidity clung to his skin. He and Chris had talked at least three times a week since that first phone call a month earlier, but he’d really wanted to see the man again. They’d decided to meet up on Chris’s first weekend off since becoming day manager at the bar. Marty had the jitters. What if they didn’t have the same chemistry? The same spark? All their intimacies since June had been via phone.

Chris had suggested video chat, but Marty had been too much of a chicken. Living in the military made a man paranoid about privacy. He pulled his tee shirt at the collar to let in some air, mustering his courage. The heat exacerbated the oily scent of the recently tarred parking lot. He smiled, remembering the choice words Chris had about the tar sticking to his tires. The outside steps leading to the second floor were concrete. Marty gripped the metal railing. His leg ached as he walked the flight to apartment 3B.

He bit his upper lip, running his fingers through his hair, as he stood at the door. His stomach ached with a misery born of anticipation and fear. His impulse was to bang down the door, but instead, he simply knocked. Twice.

The door opened. Chris smiled. “You made it.” Chris wore a kiwi-green tee shirt that brightened the green in his hazel eyes and a pair of low-slung jeans that hugged his narrow hips. His chestnut hair was neatly combed, and his narrow, angular face was clean shaven.

“You look nice,” Marty said.

Chris stepped back inside his apartment. “Come in. You’ve had a long trip. The bathroom is the door across the way.” There were two doors off the living room. Chris pointed the nearest one. “If you need to use it.”

“I’m fine,” Marty said. The living room and kitchen were combined in the small apartment. Chris had a blue couch, a coffee table, a recliner, and a small flat screen on a stand across the room from the couch in the living room. The kitchen had a three-by-three wooden table, four chairs, a fridge, dishwasher, sink, stove, and limited counter and cabinet space. The place wouldn’t win any decorating awards, but it was clean.

“Do you want to sit down?” Chris asked.

“Sure.” Marty felt let down by Chris’s mild reaction. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but this congenial greeting hadn’t been it. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” Chris said. “Can I get you a drink? Beer? Wine?”

“Sure. I’ll take whatever beer you have.” He watched Chris open the fridge and heard the telltale clinking of bottles.

Chris brought two beers into the living room. The bottles hissed as he popped the tops with an opener. He sat on the couch next to Marty. “Here you go.”

The cold bottle sweated against his hot, clammy hands. He swigged the beer, glad to have a reason not to talk for a moment. They’d talked so much on the phone over the past month that he’d assumed they’d never run out of things to say.

“So,” Chris said. “Long drive, huh?”

Wow, this conversation really was going nowhere. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Chris said. “Yes, of course. Why? Is everything okay with you?”

“Sure.” Marty scratched at the small hole near the knee of his jeans. “Good.” Why was this so goddamn hard? He turned to Chris and waited for Chris to meet his gaze.

They both laughed nervously.

“Maybe you should kiss me,” Marty said.

G.R. George is the pen name for USA Today Bestselling author Renee George's GLBT urban fantasy, paranormal romance, erotic romance, contemporary romance, and romantic comedy books that highlight varying themes including ménage, gay and bisexual relationships. A published author since 2005, she has written and published over 30 books in the past decade. Accolades include: EcataRomance Award for Best Paranormal Erotic Romance and Best Gay Erotic Romance and a Literary Nymph Blush Award for Best Paranormal Romance.

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Excerpt & Giveaway! Lipstick and Camouflage (Brandt’s Dozen, Book One) by Frances Stockton

Security specialist Travis Blake’s undercover assignment should be easy. The former Navy SEAL has to protect Cassidy O'Neal from an elusive assassin. Yet, nothing about this case is simple.

For Cassidy, it’s easier to believe in ghosts than to think she’s in danger. Despite a series of unusual happenings around her apartment that make her feel uneasy, she has no idea her hot new neighbor is far more than he seems.

What starts off as simple flirtation quickly turns passionate. But, as danger intensifies, more than just their hearts are on the line.

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Maybe Justin was the reason she was so jumpy lately. He’d not exactly left that night with a smile and she’d wondered if he’d come back and try again.

Or, maybe it was something else, something unexplained. Ever since she’d gone to Salem and took Mike Smith’s place as the lead cameraman in a ghost hunt, something had been off kilter about her apartment and the building itself. Granted, they’d caught some amazing EVPs that night, but the experienced investigators in her group, Jerome and Sam, concluded what they’d caught on audio was residual and non-threatening.

If it wasn’t Justin Myers or a ghost, maybe it was that surveyor who’d staked out the neighborhood. He’d claimed to be doing a favor for a friend looking to move into the area and open a new business. She hadn’t believed him. That man had an aura about him that was mysterious and dark, maybe dangerous. She’d run him off, and as far as she knew, he’d not returned.

Frustrated, she snapped her book closed and set it aside, going over to check the last load of laundry for the day. Being Friday, she’d worked a half day and had plans to do laundry, eat rocky road ice cream for dinner, and continue reading Edmond’s tale of revenge, justice, and romance until he skewed his best friend with a sword.

Okay, she’d read the book a couple of times. Next week, she’d open up The Three Musketeers and have four book boyfriends, though her personal favorite was Aramis.

Yeah, like anything that exciting would happen to her, but one could dream a tale of fiction even if her day job wasn’t exactly the same as a French sailor’s false imprisonment or Musketeers saving a king from a treacherous cardinal.

Taking a moment to switch up her music, she chose her classic rock playlist and increased the volume, singing, well, mostly humming until her favorite line, “We were making it,” came out loud and clear.

As if it mattered how badly she was singing while pulling bras and panties out of the dryer and tossing them into the hip-hugging basket on the floor beneath the machine.

Slamming the dryer door home and picking up her basket, she turned to go back to where she’d been sitting when movement caught her eye. Whipping around, she saw a tall, impressively built man standing in the doorway, as if he’d stepped right out of the pages of one of her novels.

A heartbeat later, he came toward her, proving he was no figment of her active imagination and seeming to get bigger with every step. Unsure what to do, Cassidy threw her basket at him and rushed for the door, getting less than two feet before her bare foot caught his boot and she went tumbling.

My love for storytelling began in kindergarten when I created my first fictional characters. Though I’d given them simple nicknames, I’d convinced my family that Red Henry and Green Henry were identical twin brothers in my elementary school.

They were mischievous, rarely did their homework, had trouble with math and spelling, experienced heartbreaking losses, and yes, they even had girlfriends!

It wasn’t until the Henry twins mysteriously moved to a different state that my family realized that they were entirely fictitious and my mother suggested I write the stories down.

A few years later, I began to write, completing my first manuscript at age thirteen. I confess the heroine was a cross between Nancy Drew and a contemporary Laura Ingalls Wilder, who happened to be dating one of the Hardy Boys. But when I’d written ‘the end’ on the very last page, I’d known I had more stories to tell. Of course life intervened, but whether I was in high school, becoming part of a local theater and dance company, working as a Veterinary Technician, earning a degree in History and Secondary Education, or teaching, I was always writing and reading romances.

Finally, I met and married the love of my life and moved from Maryland to Massachusetts in 2001. Shortly after, I proudly joined Romance Writers of America and the New England Chapter, and I’ve been writing faithfully ever since.

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Excerpt & Giveaway! The Changelings, War of the Fae #1 Elle Casey

NEW YORK TIMES and USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR, ELLE CASEY, brings readers Book 1 in the YA Urban Fantasy WAR OF THE FAE Series.

Jayne Sparks, a potty-mouthed, rebellious seventeen-year-old and her best friend, shy and bookish Tony Green, have a pretty typical high school existence, until several seemingly unrelated incidents converge, causing a cascade of events that change their lives forever. Jayne and Tony, together with a group of runaway teens, are hijacked and sent into a forest, where nothing and no one are as they seem. Who will emerge triumphant? And what will they be when they do?

Content Warning: Mild violence and significant foul language within. Meant for older Young Adult readers (age 15+).

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I couldn’t take much more of the high school nonsense. I felt like I wasn’t supposed to be there. Where would I be if I weren’t there? ... I don’t know. All I did know was I was in the middle of all that crap, going to class, taking tests - but I was on autopilot, going through the motions, waiting for life to start happening. 

Sitting in World History and bored out of my mind, I was looking at a girl one row over who was the polar opposite of me. She was staring attentively at the teacher, her pen poised above an already nearly full page of notes, eager to write down every nugget of educational wisdom he was throwing our way. She loved high school, and she had big plans for moving on to college next year. She had cheer practice after school and a boyfriend named Mike who played wide receiver on the football team. Ugh. 

I owned a pen. I probably had some paper somewhere in my backpack too. That day, however, I was using my pen to draw symbols all over my right hand - temporary tattoos. I write and eat with my left hand but do just about everything else with my right. My own body was confused with what it was supposed to do. 

I was in the minority in that school. It seemed like just about everyone else knew exactly what they were doing now and what they were going to be doing until the day they died. Me? I didn’t have a clue. All I knew was this wasn’t it.

Elle Casey, a former attorney and teacher, is a NEW YORK TIMES and USA TODAY bestselling American author who lives in Southern France with her husband, three kids, and a number of furry friends. She has written books in several genres and publishes an average of one full-length novel per month.

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