Book Blast! Excerpt & Giveaway! First by K.C. Wells

It’s taken Tommy Newsome a while to get his head around being gay.

Growing up in a small town in Georgia, hasn’t prepared him for the more liberal life of a student at the university in Athens. Add to that the teachings of his parents and his church, and you have one shy young man who feels out of his depth. Working on his daddy’s farm hasn’t given him any chance of a social life, certainly not one like the clubs of Atlanta have on offer. Not that Tommy feels comfortable when he gets to sample it—Momma’s lectures still ring loudly inside his head.

All that changes when he goes to his first gay bar and sets eyes on Mike Scott.

When Mike’s not behind the bar at Woofs, he’s busy with his life as adult entertainer Scott Masters. Twenty years in the industry and the times, they are a-changing. Mike’s not had much luck in the relationship department, but as his mom is fond of telling him, you keep fishing in the same pond, you’re gonna reel in the same kind of fish. Maybe it’s time for a change.

And then a beautiful young man asks Mike to be his first….

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“I see your stalker’s here again.”

“Huh?” Mike frowned. “What are you talking about now, Kev?” He concentrated on the drink order for Dave and his friends over in the corner.

Kevin grinned and flicked his head toward the rear of the bar. “You know exactly who I’m talking ’bout. Mr. Cutie Pie over there with the muscles. Y’know, the one who’s been sitting on that barstool every Saturday night for the last five weeks?” He arched his eyebrows. “Don’t give me that ‘butter wouldn’t melt’ act. I seen you looking.” His grin widened. “G’on, tell me I’m wrong.”

Mike wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. “You’re wrong,” he stated emphatically.

Kevin stared. “Hell, you’re a poor liar.” Then his eyes gleamed. “In that case, you can take him his burger, tater tots, and Cherry Coke. Maybe you could even get him to say a few words beyond ‘Hey.’ ’Cause I swear that’s all I’ve ever heard out of that pretty little mouth of his.”

Mike snickered. “I think if I spoke to him, he’d piss his pants.”

Kevin guffawed and went off to the back of the bar. Inside Mike was cursing himself. He’d been careful not to glance too openly at the guy. Those queens he worked with were too damn good at spotting when one of them was taking an interest in a customer. And fuck it, he was interested in the painfully shy but so sexy young man who hadn’t said a word.

“And then there’s the fact that every time he comes in here,” Kevin continued, appearing beside him as if there hadn’t been a break in conversation, “I watch him look 'round the bar ’til he sees you.” That grin was still in place.

“Are you still going on about him?” Mike demanded. “Sure you’re not the one here who’s fixating?”

Kevin held up his hands. “I just call it like I see it. I think he’s only here to ogle you.”

“Well, he’s gonna be disappointed if he turns up in a couple week’s time, isn’t he, ’cause I won’t be here.”

Kevin’s brow furrowed. “Since when do you not work on weekends?”

“Since I’ll be in LA, that’s when.” Mike returned his grin. “Remember?”

“Oh, yeah, you’ve got a shoot. I’d clean forgotten.” He faked a sad face. “Aw, how you gonna cope without seeing that gorgeous bod?” He leered. “Then again, don’t worry your head about it. I’m sure me or Patrick can take care of him.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Mike groaned. “For fuck’s sake, just leave the kid alone, okay? He’s not hurting anyone.” Mike had seen enough to know the guy wasn’t going to be a problem. He preferred this quiet observation to the occasional gropings of fans when he made appearances at Hustlaball or Southern Decadence. The kid appeared to have good manners.

“Here’s his order.” Kevin handed him the tray containing the Angus burger, tater tots, and Cherry Coke. “I’m sure he’ll be delighted to get it from you.” That shit-eating grin just wouldn’t quit.

Mike shook his head and took the tray. He walked over to where the young guy sat, his eyes widening as Mike approached. “Here you go,” Mike said cheerfully, setting the food down in front of him.

The young guy blushed furiously. “Th-thanks.” He lowered his gaze and commenced picking at his tots.

Mike retreated to a safe distance and watched him while he ate. He liked the look of those wide shoulders, the reddish-brown hair, not too short, the barest hint of scruff on his jawline and those striking green eyes. His skin was creamy where it showed, which spoke of a lot of time spent covered up. With his coloring, that was understandable. But that body was speaking even louder to Mike’s dick, which was definitely interested, judging by the way it filled as he feasted on the delectable view before him.

His attention was forcibly drawn away when someone pinched his ass, good and hard.

“You are so busted.”

Fucking Kevin.

Born and raised in the north-west of England, K.C. WELLS always loved writing. Words were important. Full stop. However, when childhood gave way to adulthood, the writing ceased, as life got in the way. K.C. discovered erotic fiction in 2009, when the purchase of a ménage storyline led to the startling discovery that reading about men in love was damn hot. In 2012, arriving at a really low point in life led to the desperate need to do something creative. An even bigger discovery waited in the wings—writing about men in love was even hotter…. 

K.C. now writes full-time and is loving every minute of her new career. The laptop still has no idea of what hit it… it only knows that it wants a rest, please. And it now has to get used to the idea that where K.C goes, it goes. 

And as for those men in love that she writes about? The list of stories just waiting to be written is getting longer… and longer…. 

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Book Blitz! Author Interview, Excerpt & Giveaway! Cutlass, Cutlass #1 by Ashley Nixon

Notorious pirate Barren Reed has one thing on his mind: Revenge against the man who killed his father. So kidnapping his enemy’s fiancé seems a perfect plan…until he actually does it.

Larkin Lee is more than a pretty face and fiancé to a powerful man. Her fierce personality is enough to make any pirate want to push her overboard.

But when the King of the Orient comes to Barren with a task—to find the Bloodstone, a powerful gem thought only to exist in legend, Barren sees another opportunity to destroy his enemy. Together, Barren, Larkin and a crew of pirates set off to find the stone, only to discover it caused the death of Barren’s own mother and Larkin’s, too. As his strongest allies turn into his greatest enemies, and the life of the girl he kidnapped becomes more important than he ever dreamed, Barren’s quest for revenge becomes a fight to save the Orient.

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Where did you get the idea of the Cutlass Trilogy?


This is a hard question, only because the Cutlass Trilogy has been with me for so long. I began writing it as a Freshman in High School. I actually think I thought it would be a cool play for my drama class, but I just kept writing. 

As I changed, the story took on various forms until I settled on the one you are reading now.

I might be able to satisfy this question a little better by also saying that I approached the rewrite with a focus on the characters. I wanted to see how I could make readers empathize with Barren, and I wanted to ensure that Larkin was a strong female character. I knew approaching a pirate series, I couldn’t have a pirate who was really a ‘saint.’. To me, that wasn’t realistic. So Barren had to have baggage. 

I suppose that’s where Larkin comes in—she was the saint, but even she learns that not everything is as it seems. And not everything is black and white. There are always two sides to every story, and people on both sides that believe they are fighting for what’s most right.



What made you want to write about Barren and Larkin?


I love the dynamic of Barren and Larkin. They are both really strong characters. Together they are passionate and proud. They have very strong belief systems, they don’t like to be wrong, and they are very loyal. They also surprise me.



Barren is my troubled soul. I think it was hard to know he was so young and that he had killed, but I also think that’s just the reality of the life he leads. But Barren isn’t happy about it, and he’s not happy with himself. He struggles with his decisions—they are irrational, though really, he does seem to be motivated by goodness (goodness from his perspective). I think he’s desperate to feel like he has an identity. While he wants to be like his father, he’s also seeking that thing he’s going to be best at.



Larkin is like me—she is very truthful and open, and she hates this idea that people would consider her an object. She wants to prove herself so badly, and she has to learn how to do that, just as I have. I wanted her to be a feminist, and someone you had to listen to because she doesn’t sit aside and let you speak over her, or share your ideas without hearing hers. She makes mistakes, but she’s learning and she is spectacular.



What is Cutlass about? 

CUTLASS is about a pirate who wants revenge after his father is murdered by his brother, but he gets pushed into searching the Orient for a thing called the bloodstone and things just get crazy.

What is Flintlock about?


Flintlock is what I like to refer to as the past coming back to haunt everyone. No one is untouched at the end of this novel. We get more involved with everyone on a deeper and more emotional level.


How did you come up with character names?


My characters tell me their names. It can take a long time. Barren is the best example. He was a lot of names before he agreed that Barren was his name. I came by the name Barren from history class. I’d learned about the Red Baron, a German fighter pilot in WWI. I liked the name, changed the spelling, and there you have it. Reed was always going to be his last name. Larkin’s name I happened upon while searching for possible names. I wanted something that was pretty, but also strong. The website I found her name on said it was masculine, but I couldn’t let it go, and neither could she. Lee was always going to be her last name. Leaf got his name from Leif Erikson, the Norse explorer who is considered to have come to America before Christopher Columbus. His last name, Tinavin, was just words I randomly strung together on a piece of paper.



Do you keep a notebook by you at all times just in case an idea comes to mind?


I have several journals I keep with me. I used to write stuff on loose pieces of paper. This is a bad idea. Don’t do it.

What is your new series, Nacoma Knight, about?


Nacoma Knight is a series about souls. There are no angels or demons in this book because there just aren’t. Basically, there’s the good guys (Shadow Knights) and there’s the bad guys (Cercatore). The Shadow Knights fight to protect humans from having their souls taken. A girl named Anora Silby gets pulled into the middle after losing her mother. So, it’s a story of grief and a story of empowerment.



How would you describe your writing style?


It is haphazard. It’s a combination of outlining and just writing random dialogue. I feel I am best at dialogue, so once I have a set of words I want someone to say, I add scenes to it. Sometimes, however, I know exactly how I want a scene to go—I can see it like a movie in my head—and I write that. There are several large scenes in Flintlock I knew had to be in the book that I wrote months and month (some are years) ago.



What made you want to become a writer?


I think I’d always been inclined to write. When I was younger, I would pull out sheets of paper and practice my handwriting. I did this because I knew I wanted to write, but I just wasn’t sure where to start. After I read the Lord of the Rings, I knew I wanted to write fantasy. I loved the idea of creating a new world, and I loved that I had control over anything that happened there. I know that reading and writing changed my life, and I know that I want to change lives with my books. 

Describe Barren in three words:

Loyal. Headstrong. Passionate.

Describe Larkin in three words:

Kickass. Headstrong. Brave. 

Who are your favorite authors?

J.R.R. Tolkien, Oscar Wilde, and Jane Austen.

Barren gazed at the crowd, sifting through the faces. While he wasn’t sure who he was looking for, he could only imagine what sort of wife William would need. A woman who was slight and meek, someone who didn’t like to stand out in the crowd, or speak up—obviously—or she would not have agreed to marry William. Then again, perhaps Barren was not giving this mystery woman enough credit. Perhaps she saw William as a way out of a situation. Either way, he felt sorry for her. 

Barren heard Leaf chuckle and he looked at the Elf. “I think you have no idea who you are dealing with.”

Leaf pointed toward a circle of people. Barren’s eyes shifted there, and his breath caught. What he had expected was a fragile girl—someone slight, doll-like, and silent. This girl was not so. The first thing he took in was her strength. It radiated from her like warmth from a hearth. She stood straight with her shoulders back, an observing eye upon everyone. Then he drank in the features composing her beauty. Almond-shaped eyes gleamed with emerald irises that shone like sun on the green sea. Her smile, while charming and beautiful, had something mischievous about it. She had high cheekbones, blushed with pink and long, dark curls decorated with white flowers falling down her back and over her shoulders. Her dress, crimson in color, was unlike the others, hugging her hourglass figure like it was made on her. Barren could not have thought up a more beautiful girl, and no one around her compared. 

A smug smirk crossed Leaf’s thin lips. 

“What am I supposed to do with her?” asked Barren. His thoughts were all muddled. He had forgotten why he was here, or how he had intended to attract this girl’s attention. Could he even do that? 

Leaf laughed. “Oh, you silly boy, we won’t make it out of this one alive, will we?”

Barren glared at the Elf. “Don’t tell me you expected her! How could she ever agree to marry my brother?”

Leaf shrugged, still smirking. “Ask her.”

Ashley was born and raised in Oklahoma, where the wind really does sweep down the plains, and horses and carriages aren't used as much as she'd like. When she's not writing, she's hard at work on her Master's degree in Library Science and Information Technology, working out, or pretending she's Sherlock Holmes. Her obsession with writing began after reading the Lord of the Rings in the eighth grade. Since then, she's loved everything Fantasy--resulting in an unhealthy obsession with the 'geek' tab on Pinterest, where all things awesome go.

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Book Blitz! Excerpt & Giveaway! The Other Half of Me (The Emotio Series Willow's Branch) by Lor Rose

As a homicide detective for the greater Houston area, Detective Barrack Invar's job was stressful enough without his Lieutenant breathing down his neck to do more, not to mention his girlfriend, Isabella. His partner, Calhoun, was a joke. It didn’t help that over the years Barrack earned a reputation as being a bit of an asshole at work. Things for Barrack didn’t look any brighter in the wake of a murder case with absolutely no leads at all. Until he came home to a wonderful surprise. His best friend since the age of three had finally come home. 

Willow only survived. His best friend since childhood, Barrack, was all that mattered to him. Willow craved any small scraps of affection Barrack was willing to give. Every look, every praise, every touch, tore Willow's soul because he was constantly reminded of what he couldn’t have. Barrack. When Willow unexpectedly returned home his insides burned with the need for the man he loved. The need to give control...

Barrack found his feelings towards Willow slowly twisted and changed. He loved his best friend. A man. For Barrack it was a very simple thing. Willow on the other hand could not accept what Barrack was freely willing to give. Willow did the only thing he knew. He ran. 

Returning home, Willow's fears were confirmed when Barrack refused to come with him. Barrack's promises to follow seemed long in coming. Willow was left devastated feeling abandoned and alone.

Can Barrack convince Willow of his love? Will Willow allow Barrack to love him?

eBook: Thirteen Below Press | Print: Thirteen Below Press

The energy of the crowd and passion from the band was infectious. Barrack stood as close to the stage as he could. His body ached and his eyes itched with need for sleep after a long day at work then the concert, but it was worth it. Seeing him made it worth it.

He headed for the VIP line forming next to where NRG Stadium kept their performance stage when not in use. Other bodies ran into him, one group nearly running him over with their purple VIP passes swinging from their necks. Barrack shook his head. Purple badges like theirs only allowed them into VIP after-show signings, nothing special. Black was the next level up, with after-show backstage access and a gift signed from all the band members for Christmas. White, like his, allowed backstage access before and after shows, as well as the yearly gifts at Christmas and the holder's birthday, plus special one-on-one time with the band at a scheduled party near Halloween.

The organizers broke up the white badges into groups of seven per party to allow more one-on-one time. Hence, only twenty-one people had a white VIP badge. If a white badge didn't come to a white party more than twice in a row, they automatically lost their white VIP status since other people would use it to its full advantage, like him.

"Hey Barrack!"

He turned to see Bridge, the band's head of security, waving him over, then shouldered his way through the crowd, slowly making his way to the front of the line.

"Annoying, isn't it?" Bridge's voice had a slight rasp to it. He was a tall broad man with a stern-looking face and jaw. His hair looked swept back by the wind.

The two clasped hands and Bridge pulled him into a one-armed hug, each patting the other heavily on the back. “If I had to deal with this all the time, then shit yeah. Doesn’t it get annoying?” Barrack asked and gave Bridge one more hearty pat on the arm before releasing him.

Bridge shrugged. “Not really, no. How you’ve been?”

Barrack smiled at his old friend. They had gotten close once a long time ago when they’d been undercover. When everything was all said and done with that case, the men had lost contact, only to be reacquainted a few years later when Emotio hit the scene.

He shrugged. "Same old, same old."

Bridge shook his head. "Come on." He opened the door to allow them inside. Barrack stepped into a much quieter but still busy space. Stage personnel hustled about doing whatever it was that they did. One was carrying a large stuffed rhinoceros—he didn't want to know.

"Barrack." Rex Louis Clark, the drummer waved and Barrack waved back. The man stood shirtless with raven black hair that shined blue in the light. A white stripe accented the side of his head. The tabloids had nicknamed him 'Skunk', and for good reason. He'd been known to have a bad temper. He was talking to Luxe, the band's stylist. Why, he didn't know since the man seemed to be allergic to shirts.

"Everyone else is in back," Bridge said. "The public signing will start in half an hour." Bridge patted him on the back and walked off, leading the way.

"That's it?" Half an hour seemed like a short break after such a performance.

Bridge shrugged. "Aksel and Patryk wanted to be done early."

"Wonder why," he mused aloud while they turned a corner.

Bridge sighed, but it sounded more like a disbelieving tsk. He opened another door and walked inside with Barrack following behind.

"You know you're the only fan we actually like enough to hang out with," Bishop, the lead guitarist, said from the wet bar. His silk black pirate shirt caught the light, highlighting his exposed chest. His shoulder-length bleached hair sported pink highlights at the tips, which faded up the length.

"That one isn't so bad," Aksel, the bass player, said as he plopped on the couch. His purple Mohawk didn't even move.

Titus, the piano or keyboard player, threw wadded paper at Aksel, which he caught. "Do ya mean Greg?" Titus's slight Irish accent came through. His all white hair almost glowed in the fluorescent lighting.

"I hate him," Bishop said as he took a long drink.

"That's because—" Patryk Sama'el, the lead singer, walked in from another door on the opposite side of the room. "—he drinks just as much alcohol as you." His hair was black, the sides of his head shaved into a military buzz, and the center was long, thick, and styled effortlessly to the side. A chunk of white highlighted his bangs. Diamond stud earrings decorated his ears. He had changed from his earlier outfit into skinny jeans and a loose rock and roll T-shirt. "And even we cannot afford that." His comment won a round of chuckles and the finger from Bishop.

The singer shook his head and plopped on the couch next to Aksel. Heavy black makeup framed his eyes, as did an elegant gray and black masquerade mask. This air of secrecy heightened Emotio's fame. No one had seen Patryk's face, not even Emotio's other members. Rumors soared over Patryk's looks, but the man in the center of it all, Patryk, neither confirmed nor denied anything. Patryk Sama'el symbolized mystery, and mysteries were intriguing.

"Hey Barrack," Patryk said with a tiny wave, looking relaxed but tired.

"Hey, guys." Barrack entered the room while Bridge said his goodbyes. "You want a water?" Barrack asked Patryk who nodded. Barrack had to practically shove Bishop out of the way to get to the wet bar.

He retrieved two waters, then handed one to Patryk while he sat between Aksel and Patryk. "Where's Dominik?" Another scan of the room confirmed the electric violinist wasn't there.

Titus tossed him the wad of paper, and he tossed it back. "Good question."

"Bathroom," Patryk supplied with a sigh.

Barrack looked him over. Patryk seemed to have melted farther into the couch since he sat down, "Okay?"

Patryk nodded. "Just tired."

"If I danced like you in them damn high heels, I'd be tired too." Bishop twirled and went back to the bar for another drink.

Before anyone could answer, Dominik walked in from the same door Patryk had. He stopped short when he saw Barrack. "Hey." On stage, Dominik was a force worthy of the band's fame, but in that moment, he seemed tiny and timid, as if he were two different people.

His emerald-green hair had white accents. Dominik's style was the most formal. A well-tailored suit showed off his form. The jacket was opened, exposing a white button-up shirt and loosened black silk necktie.

"You okay?" Barrack asked while getting up. "Here, sit. You look tired."

Dominik smiled, but it seemed sad to Barrack. "I'm fine."

"Please, sit." He motioned to the spot he’d given up. Dominik meekly nodded and slowly made his way to the sofa. To Barrack, he seemed to move a little too gingerly. "Thanks," Dominik said as he passed. Barrack's gaze zeroed in on him pressing his arm to his side. A small bruise visible on Dominik's knuckles made Barrack frown.

"Son of a bitch." Rex burst into the room and chucked something against the wall, but Barrack didn't see what it was. Barrack was too focused on Dominik's barely there flinch and subsequent wince.

He covered it up well. "Lose a bet?" Dominik's response was more subdued than usual as he sat.

Rex growled as he strode across the room to the other door. "Shut up," he snapped. "I'm taking a shower." The poor door almost groaned under Rex's grip as he wrenched it open, and the reverberating slam when he left sent a crack throughout the room.

"Well he's a ray of sunshine, isn't he?" Bishop listed to the side with a giggle.

Patryk sighed, but Barrack could tell he was watching Dominik, too. "Stop drinking. We still have the signing to do."

Bishop flipped him off again. "You gonna stop me?"

"And mess up this manicure?" Patryk waved black fingernails at him. "I don't think so. Barrack can subdue your drunk ass."

Bishop looked at him with bleary eyes. He must've been drinking on stage. "Wouldn't mind 'hat at all."

"Barrack is off limits. He's got that Willow fellow," Titus said while still tossing the wad of paper around.

Barrack shook his head. "We're not together."

Patryk chuckled. "The way you talk about him sure makes it seem you are."

Barrack moved and sat on the arm of the couch closest to Patryk. "Well, he does have a nice ass."

Bishop spit out his drink. "You're gay!"

"No." Barrack took Patryk's water and opened it, then gave it back. "Drink that," he said under his breath, then turned his attention back to Bishop. "But I can appreciate a nice ass when I see one."

"We have got to meet this Willow," Titus said. "He's all ya talk about."

Barrack shrugged. "He's busy."

Aksel heaved himself up. "The fucker is always busy," he said while retrieving his own water.

"Be nice," Patryk said.

Aksel made a jacking off motion. "Suck me."

Barrack laughed, but Patryk punched his thigh. "What?" He asked then took a drink of water.

"Don't encourage him," Patryk quipped, then took a swig of water.

A knock on the door stole everyone's attention. Bridge stuck his head in. "Signing starts in 5. Where's Skunk?"

Bishop giggled. "Ima tell you said 'hat."

"That's great, where is he?"

Barrack nodded to the other door. "Showering, should be about done."

Bridge walked into the room and to the other door. "You guys get out there and I'll get him."

"Better you than me," Patryk said as he got up.

The rest of the band followed with their own brand of sarcasm except for Dominik. He sat on the sofa and looked a little pale. "You okay?" Barrack asked again.

"Yeah. Help me up." Dominik offered his hand, and Barrack pulled him up. The man seemed too light even for his smaller physique.

Barrack watched Dominik walk. He had a slight hitch to his step. "If you ever need anything, I can help you."

Dominik stopped and turned. The gaze that met Barrack's could only be described as broken. "You're a really good friend." With that, Dominik strode off with Barrack following. They arrived at the signing and Dominik took his place between Aksel and Rex.

Bridge came up behind him. "Everything all right?"

He stepped back so he and Bridge were behind the band but out of earshot. "You know what I think."

"Yeah" was all Bridge said, and the two lapsed into silence.

Lor is a snarky, over the top genderfluid polyamorous demipansexual with dark hair and pink highlights. Although, sometimes the color varies. She is almost constantly fighting with her muse, Animus, or referring the fights between Animus and Epicene, her other muse. Lor started reading very questionable M/M fanfiction at a very young age in the closet. Literally. Though that didn’t stop her from getting caught once or twice. This early love of things M/M sparked her writing career. Without a doubt, her Christian high school English teacher Mrs. B didn’t expect Lor to fall into the M/M genre. Mrs. B did know Lor would be a writer someday because when the class had a minimum, Lor had a maximum. It truly was unfair.

Besides writing, Lor may also be found with one of her two horses, the Chihuahua or her cat. Any un-caught typos are courtesy of the cat, who shoves Lor’s things out of the way when it’s her time for cuddles or playtime… Which is about every ten minutes.

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In The Spotlight! Burning Ember, Harbingers Of Chaos #1 by Darby Briar

The last thing she needs after running from one monster is to land in the lair of the Devil.

Twenty-one year old Ember flees her past with soot on her face, ash in her hair, and a promise. She’ll never let another man take away her freedom and treat her like she means nothing. But that is exactly what Maverick Gunn, leader of the notorious Harbinger’s of Chaos Motorcycle Club seeks to do from the moment his lethal gaze locks on her. He burns her with every look. Every touch. Every word. Ember’s only hope is to convince him she’s nothing like the woman who blackened his soul before he drags her down into the darkness with him.

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Darby Briar is an American author who loves writing stories about men with broken souls and women who don’t know their own strength. Most of her stories are dreamed up in the early hours of the morning, while driving, or while listening to music. She’s a business woman by day and a wife, mother, writer, and reader the rest of the time. She’s a lover of fiction whether it be a movie or book, but prefers stories with some romance, and ones that include a happy ending. Darby grew up in Utah and still lives in the northern part of the state. She’s married and her and her husband have three adorable kids.

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Excerpt & Giveaway! Fates Divided, Halven Rising #1 by Jules Barnard

Elena Rosales has busted her ass to get into a good college. She’s the only one in her family ever to attend, and expectations are high. No pressure. But Elena’s got this one in the bag, because she’s as dependable as the molecules she studies, as reliable as the chemical reactions that comfort her in their predictability. Until they don’t.

Elena has always wondered why her mother abandoned her on her first birthday. It’s not until she turns eighteen and her chemistry experiments go berserk that she learns the truth: Her mother wasn’t human, and the Fae are willing to harm those Elena loves if she doesn’t use her power over the elements to cure them of a deadly disease. Derek, Elena’s brooding neighbor, isn’t the friendliest guy, but he has access to an off-hours lab and is willing to help Elena create the antivirus. He has his own secrets to keep, and this business Elena is mixed up in could blow his cover. But when Elena and Derek get together, more than chemicals spark fire-and they soon discover just how complicated attraction can get when they find themselves on the other side of the portal, fighting for survival. Lives collide, and allegiance and love are tested, in Fates Divided.

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She squirmed and bobbed giddily on top of him like a landlocked fish. “I have a boyfriend,” she said in a singsong voice. 

Derek grunted as a stray elbow landed on his ribs. He flipped her so she lay beneath him again. “How should we celebrate your first official relationship,” he said in a deep, sexy voice, his hand snaking down her collarbone to the top of her breast.

She smiled slyly. “By holding hands?”

His palm stilled and he frowned, shaking his head. 

“Hmm… With a kiss?”

He put his mouth on her neck and kissed and licked his way down. “Getting warmer,” he murmured.

She tapped a finger to her mouth, trying not to move while his lips and hands made her face heat and her breath catch. “No hand-holding, but kissing is okay, yet not enough. What to do, what to do… I’ve got it. How about a heavy make-out session?”

“Warmer still,” came his response from the general area of her bellybutton where he’d lifted her top a few inches and exposed her skin. His hands continued their wonderfully tormenting path down her torso to her hips.

She closed her eyes, breaths shaky and uneven as her stomach and thigh muscles clenched beneath his fingers. “Fine—you win.” She reached down and yanked his T-shirt over his head.

He sat up as though affronted, his eyes sparkling. “Hey, I’m not that kind of guy.” 

She smiled. “You’re a terrible liar. Is that drool on the side of your mouth?” 

He raised his hand to his lip and grinned.

Before turning to storytelling, Jules earned a master’s degree in public health and spent many an hour running statistical analysis–until she realized her favorite part of the job was writing reports. She decided to cut out the math and add in some hot guys, and so began her career as a novelist. Jules is a Northern California native living on the coast with her husband and two children. She has no impulse control around cupcakes and credits herself with the ability to read while running on the treadmill or burning dinner.

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Excerpt & Giveaway! Cronin's Key III by N.R. Walker

History isn’t always what it seems…

Twelve months after his change, Alec MacAidan is still getting used to his many vampire talents. While most vampires would give anything to have more than one supernatural power, Alec craves nothing more than peace and time alone with Cronin. But when Alec meets entities from outside this realm, he’s left powerless in their presence. 

Zoan are half-lycan, half-dragon creatures that have slipped through time and reality, seemingly undetected by man and vampire. Or have they? They bear an uncanny resemblance to gargoyles, leaving Alec’s view on all things weird to get a whole lot weirder.

This new quest leads Alec, Cronin, and their band of friends to Paris, Rome, and Moscow, where they learn that gargoyles aren’t simply statues on walls. In the underground pits beneath churches all over the world, Alec discovers the Key’s true destiny. Facing the Zoan might take every talent he has. And he may need help from the dead to get them all out alive.

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CHAPTER ONE

Alec sat back in the chair and held in a sigh, feeling every bit the lab rat he’d become. Since he’d become a vampire a year ago, he’d been put through test after test, so each and every one of his unending list of talents could be explored and documented. 

He’d agreed to this, and he knew it was the right thing to do, but in that very moment, he wished to be doing anything else.

And with talents for making errant thoughts an instant reality—like setting fire to sofas and making Xbox controllers explode in Eiji’s hand because he’d somehow won—it wasn’t a good frame of mind to be in.

He loved Jodis. He really did. She had become one of his best friends. But she’d also taken it upon herself to document his talents, and he’d just about had enough for one day. If replicating wasn’t a talent so frowned upon in the vampire world, he’d make a copy of himself to endure Jodis’ tests while he and Cronin hid out in their bedroom. He’d replicated himself a few times, experimentally of course, and found it too taxing on himself anyway.

“Can you do it again?” she asked, notepad and pen in hand.

Alec had found a certain talent he’d dubbed the chameleon, for obvious reasons, because he could make things change color. It was absurd, really, and probably of no better use than a party trick. But he could, if he concentrated, turn a red pen blue or a white shirt black. The talent could only manifest by touch, and it lasted only a few minutes before returning to its original color, but Jodis was rather intrigued.

Alec, on the other hand, had passed bored like it was standing still and was well on his way to irate. “Jodis, I’ve kinda had enough of this today.”

“Last one, I promise.”

For Alec, it wasn’t so much as reining in a temper anymore, where the most damage done was a cutting remark. Now it was keeping a lid on a few dozen talents that reacted poorly to anger. He only had to get really pissed off and a rage would barrel out of him like nuclear fallout, literally knocking humans and vampires off their feet. Or he could burst eardrums with a furious roar, or maybe he could turn them to stone, or dust. Or maybe, just maybe, he could rip an earthquake through the apartment so he didn’t have to do any more of these stupid fucking tests.

“Alec,” Eleanor cautioned from the next room.

“I wasn’t actually going to do that,” he replied petulantly. He knew Eleanor, with the gift of foresight, saw possible outcomes of decisions made, and that did nothing to quell his frustration. “Jesus, now my thoughts aren’t even my own.” Standing up, he snatched the purple notebook off the desk, holding it for half a second and slamming it back down. It was now black, as was every page inside it, and it was smoldering as though it almost caught fire.

Cronin was suddenly in front of him, a hand cupped to his face. “He’s had enough,” he said to Jodis, and they disappeared.

* * * *

As soon as Alec’s feet hit the soft earth, he took a deep breath of fresh air and reveled in the silence.

His life hadn’t exactly been quiet in the last twelve months. 

He felt the warmth of Cronin’s hand in his, smelled the sweet aromas of heath and moss from both the vampire beside him and the cool air of the long-abandoned battlefield, and Alec exhaled loudly.

Cronin had somehow learned to quiet his mind a little and it gave Alec the silence he so desperately needed. In the last twelve months, Cronin had taken Alec on more time-outs than he could count. Knowing when he’d had enough and was reaching breaking point, Cronin would simply remove Alec from the situation, leaping him somewhere quiet where his mind could have some much needed solitude. But with a gentle squeeze of his hand, Cronin reassured him he was there.

“I’m sorry,” Alec said.

“Don’t apologize,” Cronin said adamantly. “I can’t begin to imagine your frustrations.”

“Jodis is only trying to help. I behaved badly.” He could very well speak words directly into Jodis’ mind and tell her privately that he was sorry. But he’d prefer not invade the thoughts of others, preferring to apologize in person.

“She understands,” Cronin said, trying to pacify him.

Alec sighed loudly and allowed the quiet to envelope him. “I love it here,” he said eventually.

The field at Dunadd, Scotland, had become a sanctuary for Alec. No voices in his head, no city of millions with flurrying thoughts unbidden through his mind, no politics of vampire councils, no meetings, no one hovering.

Just Cronin.

“It affords you a great privacy,” Cronin said. His Scottish accent and formal tone still made Alec smile. “Your talents as a vampire are a burdensome gift.”

Alec had learned very early on to block out the voices and thoughts of those around him, but living in a city of millions made it a constant effort, and his display of anger at Jodis just minutes ago bothered him. “These talents are a pain in my ass.”

Cronin laughed quietly. “Your control over them still astounds us all.”

“The control you keep talking about is a talent in itself. It’s like casting a net over a thousand different fish.” Alec sighed loudly. “I’ve told you that before.”

“I know. Though it amazes me still.” Cronin squeezed Alec’s hand again and looked out across the field of long grass to the line of trees that fronted the river. “Lie down with me.”

Cronin simply lay flat on his back in the middle of the field and when Alec lay down next to him, Cronin snatched up Alec’s hand again. And together in the mind-clearing silence, they watched the blanket of stars glide across the sky.

It was a clear autumn night in Scotland, cold and dark. Neither of those things impeded a vampire of course, and Alec would never tire of the simple changes he’d gone through when he became a vampire. It was the complex changes he was beginning to struggle with. The talents he’d been given made him unique: the only vampire ever to have all vampire talents, some he was still discovering a year after his change. It was these talents that made his life hectic, his obligations as the key to the vampire world that gave him a great responsibility, and as Cronin had said, it was becoming a great burden.

Alec loved that Cronin would leap them to the very field where his human life had ended. The old battlefield in Scotland was also where they’d first made love, where they came to talk, to be by themselves. Like now.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” Alec whispered, his anger and frustration from before almost gone. “I feel like I can breathe here.”

“Is that not what husbands do?” Cronin asked with a smile. “Save the other from the myriad of madness?”

“Husbands,” Alec said, bringing Cronin’s knuckles up to his lips and kissing them softly. “Now that is something I’ll never tire of.”

N.R. Walker is an Australian author, who loves her genre of gay romance.

She loves writing and spends far too much time doing it, but wouldn't have it any other way.

She is many things; a mother, a wife, a sister, a writer. She has pretty, pretty boys who live in her head, who don't let her sleep at night unless she gives them life with words. 

She likes it when they do dirty, dirty things...but likes it even more when they fall in love.

She used to think having people in her head talking to her was weird, until one day she happened across other writers who told her it was normal. 

She's been writing ever since...

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