Wednesday, December 23, 2015

Featuring Crossroads by Gale Stanley @EvernightPub #MM #Paranormal #HolidayRomance #LGBT #RomanceOnTheGo

Hi! Thanks for letting me stop by to talk about my new book – Crossroads.  The story was inspired by a recent trip to New Orleans. We stayed at the historic Omni Royal Orleans in the heart of the French Quarter and we were able to walk to all the fantastic restaurants, shopping, and entertainment. We toured the area hit by Katrina, the cemeteries, and the voodoo museum. In movies and TV, voodoo is usually shown as a dark and scary practice.  In reality, it's a religious practice in which the followers have direct contact with the spirits. And that's the story I wanted to tell. The events in Crossroads take place around Christmas, a season of miracles, but really, it could happen any time of the year. All you have to do is believe…

Long time lovers, Louis Abellard and Jesse Trudeau work in a Voodoo shop in the French Quarter. Jesse is a believer, but Louis turned his back on the spirits when they allowed his mother to die of cancer.
When Jesse is hospitalized with leukemia, Louis is desperate to save him. He’ll do anything—except ask the spirits for help. Then one night an unlikely ally makes contact, and Louis finds himself at a crossroads. Maybe it’s time to revisit his past and confront his inner demons.

Teaser
     Three years ago, Jesse walked into the voodoo shop and asked for a job. It was love at first sight—for Mawmaw and Jesse. They hit it off immediately. Jesse is a believer, the grandson she should have had.
     I was smitten, too, but for other reasons. Jesse looked so damn hot, all long blond hair and golden-brown skin like he should have been riding a surfboard instead of a skateboard. His cutoffs were stretched tight over the bulge at his crotch, and being the slut I was back then, I wanted to fuck him. I gave Mawmaw a thumbs-up, and she hired him on the spot.
     Jesse stayed for dinner. My grandmother filled his head with ghost stories and his stomach with her spicy shrimp gumbo. I took him to bed later and filled him in other ways. It didn’t take long for lust to turn into the real thing.
Fortunately, I didn’t screw things up, and Jesse moved in two weeks later. Jesse is easy to love. I’m not sure what he sees in me, I’m just grateful the feelings are mutual.

Available at
Evernight | Amazon | All Romance | Bookstrand
Author Bio:
Gale Stanley grew up in Philadelphia PA. She was the kid who always had her nose in a book, her head in the clouds, and her hands on a pad and pencil.
Some things never change.

Sunday, December 20, 2015

Featuring "Who He Used To Be" by Douglas Black #MM #Novella #LGBT #GayRomance


Sometimes it takes a stranger to remind you who you used to be.

Who He Used To Be is an MM erotic romance short story, originally published in 2013 by Secret Cravings publishing. When Secret Cravings closed their doors a few months ago, the rights to the story reverted to me and I was thrilled to have the opportunity to re-edit and bring this story to a bigger audience.


      When Jeff, the man Connor moved across an ocean to spend the rest of his life with, announces their relationship is no longer working, Connor is caught unawares. Without Jeff, Connor has no reason to stay in Florida, but he doesn’t want to return to Scotland.
      An impromptu visit to a nightclub leads to Connor meeting Parker, a man nothing like clean-cut Jeff and a lot more like the bad-boys Connor used to go for back in Glasgow’s biker bars.
       A one-night-stand becomes something more, but the two barely have any time together before Connor is hit by another bolt from the blue.
      Jeff decides he wants Connor back, and his offer to start over means Connor has to make a decision. Return to the security of his relationship with Jeff, or jump in at the deep end with Parker and find out if he still remembers how to swim.

Excerpt

“Hey,” Connor said.

“You don’t look like you belong here.” The man’s voice was deep, and he spoke slowly, almost lazily. Connor liked that.

“I just got out of work.”

The man nodded and gestured to the bartender. A few moments later, another bottle of beer was placed in front of Connor along with a glass of coke. Judging by the easy smile on the man’s lips and his complete disregard for personal space, Connor was willing to bet the coke wasn’t virgin.

“And you thought instead of going home, you’d come here. Somewhere that’s not your usual hangout. Somewhere you’re unlikely to be caught…by your boyfriend?”

Connor laughed and picked up his drink. “Partly,” he said, holding the bottle close to his lips. “Except for the boyfriend part.”

The man nodded and let go of Connor’s shoulder. He took a long swig of his drink.

“Is that why you’re here? This doesn’t exactly look like your scene either.”

The man smirked. He bit his bottom lip. “I’m babysitting,” he said, nodding at the bottle-blond guy Connor had been staring at before.

Connor knew dreadlocks weren’t hereditary, but, “Your brother?”

“Cousin. He’s just moved here. I thought he might need a little supervision.”

“Looks like he’s got things covered.”

The man shrugged. “I’m Parker, by the way. I caught you checking him out. You didn’t look very impressed.”

Connor took another swig from his bottle of beer before moving a step closer to Parker. In those baggy jeans it was hard to tell, and Connor wanted to know if Parker was really interested. Connor made a move he hadn’t used in years and rubbed up against Parker’s groin, concealing his real intentions by whispering in Parker’s ear.

“He’s not my type. I prefer my men a little rough around the edges.”

Connor felt a rush of heat on his neck as Parker let out a breath that was too heavy to signify anything other than arousal.

Parker drained the contents of his glass before looking at Connor again. He stepped to the side, moving away from Connor, teasing as he pulled his lip between white teeth. Connor waited and Parker reached for him. He locked his fingers in the long hair tied in a ponytail at the nape of Connor’s neck. He pulled Connor towards him, making Connor close the distance between them again. Connor didn’t resist.

The first press of Parker’s lips against his own seemed to amplify the alcohol in Connor’s system. The banging base of the music melted to a thudding beat that dictated how Connor’s hips thrust against Parker’s, how their hands wound and pulled in each other’s hair. When Parker’s lips parted, Connor dived inside, wanting to lick away the taste of cheap bourbon to get right down to the taste of the man himself.

Parker’s hands left Connor’s hair and landed back on Connor’s hips. He moved Connor, rubbing their erections together until kissing was becoming damn near impossible. Connor kept pulling away to suck breath down into his lungs and Parker stole it from him every time he brought their lips back together.

“Jesus,” Parker said, breaking the kiss. He rested his forehead against Connor’s. Connor couldn’t take his eyes off the smile playing on Parker’s lips. “Where’d you learn to kiss like that?”

Connor laughed, still rocking his hips against Parker’s. “Glasgow. Heard of it?”

Parker nodded. “I’m going to have to add it to my list of places to visit.”

“Do that… but, not tonight.”

“No. I have other plans for tonight.”



About Douglas Black:

Born and raised in bonnie Scotland, Douglas Black writes contemporary MM erotic romance. Welcome to your fantasy.

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All Romance (ARe)

Wednesday, December 9, 2015

Featuring The Secret of Obedience by Liv Rancourt #EvernightPub #RotG #MMRomance #Interracial #EroticRomance #LGBT


The Secret of Obedience

Can a jock find love with a hot little hipster?
Opposites attract, but secrets divide.

Ronnie Durand is a country boy who transfers to the University of Washington after two years at Central. He'll have to give up playing football, though finishing his education at a major university in Seattle - and being out and proud without having to look over his shoulder - makes the sacrifice worthwhile. 
But finding friends at a huge school is tough, especially when the hottest guy Ronnie meets makes him doubt his own sanity.
Sang's been on his own a long time. He's only a couple steps away from living on the street, and he's got dreams so big they don't leave space for a steady boyfriend. Then he meets Ronnie, who just might be strong enough to break through his barriers....as long as Sang lets him in on one big secret. 

Buy Links
Amazon   -   ARe   -    Evernight  -  Barnes & Noble


Excerpt

Sang wants to spin, to expand into the space. He shows his desire in the way he raises his arms and sweeps the floor with his gaze. He's wearing a simple white wife-beater over his jeans, but it’s topped with a long navy double-breasted coat with gold trim, the kind of thing worn by Union soldiers in the Civil War. It fits like it was made for him, and my palms burn to touch it.
I move deeper onto the dance floor. I'm broader, wider, and the crowd packs tightly around me. I get as close to Sang as he'll let me, belly to belly. He's only about 5'4", and when he turns his back, he presses his ass against my thigh.
I take it as an invitation. Keeping one hand on his shoulder, I let the other wander. He reaches behind, grabbing handfuls of the denim wrapping my legs. I stroke his throat, bend down to tell him how pretty he is, chicken out and do nothing but breathe in his ear.
Bodies crush, sweaty and raw, shifting us to the center of the floor. My dick's engaged in an argument with the fly of my jeans. I let my hand drift lower, across Sang's chest. His small nub of a nipple hardens under my fingertips, but no softness surrounds it. If he's really a girl, he totally got shortchanged. I sweep my fingers wider. Nah, these pecs belong on a man.
I move my hand lower, going slow, giving him time to stop me. I stick my thumb into a belt loop. He grabs my wrist, tight.
"What?" I ask. The bare, light toast skin of his neck is inches from my lips. I could taste him. I want to. Over the stink of sweat and too many colognes I smell him, some warm spice scent like the incense Mom used to burn.
He brings his mouth within kissing distance. "Don't."
"What you got under the hood, pretty? You packing a V6 or a V8?" I want to kiss him, to taste him, to admire this perfect jewel of a person.
"V6 or V8." He grins, and it's the curve of his lower lip when he smiles that I'll remember, like his mouth is held by a chalice. "Does it really matter?" he asks.
It does, but not in the way he thinks. I leave off my search, but don't move my hand from his belt. See, my stepdad threw me into football when I was eight. I was good at it, good enough nobody messed with me. The locker room's not known for being a gay-friendly place, but being able to dead lift 280 pounds at age fifteen bought me some peace.
I'm still a guy, though, and I like lovers who are smaller and prettier than me. Call me a cave man. Whatever. Sang is my small-town boy's fantasy, and the press of his body has me so turned on I'd think about doing him even if he’s actually a she.
My fingers are trembling with the need to touch, to know.
"Come on, Sugar Cookie. Does it matter?"
I lean in, drawn like his lips are the center of a flower and I'm one very horny bee.
"Oh no." He jerks away, his gorgeous smile extinguished. "No kissing. I don't kiss strangers."
Puzzled, I reach out. He's hemmed in by the crowd, so it's nothing to loop my fingers under his shirt and draw him closer. "No kissing, then." Some guys are like that. He rocks against me, straddling my thigh, giving me a taste of the hardness in his groin. Hell yeah.
"Is your ID legal?" Because somehow it matters that he's at least 21. I can't keep the grin off my face. His dick is going to be gorgeous, and I'm going to suck it, and he's going to scream.
"Of course." He's not frowning anymore. He's sly and shimmering and a little mean. "I do love a man in cowboy boots. The rest of it..." He brushes his hands down the sleeves of my plain white t-shirt. "Not so much. But I'll do you for your boots."
I get both hands around his waist and drag him further up my leg. He hangs onto a handful of my shirt. I'm not sure his feet are even on the floor. The song changes, or maybe it doesn't. They all sound the same. My cock is pressed against him hard enough to make me grit my teeth. "Let's go."
His heavy eyelids drift down until he has to tip his head to maintain eye contact. "Bathroom?" 
I guess it's that or an alley. "Sure."
He grabs my wrist roughly and leads me through the disorganized crowd. We go right past the men’s room to the women’s. “Less crowded,” he says over his shoulder.
The restroom smells like piss and semen and sweat. We find a stall, and I get down on my knees before he can argue. The floor is sticky, but I figure I can’t catch anything too scary through my knees, and from there I can nuzzle his belly.
"Are you always like this? I like a nice toppy guy, you know, but he's gotta be able to—"
I don't hear what he thinks a guy's gotta do seeing as I've covered his mouth with my hand, smearing gritty sticky lipgloss with my fingers. The bossy little fuck has just dragged me in here like I'm some kind of prized bull, and now he’s gonna whine about me? There are crinkles of laughter at the corners of his eyes.
"Sang?" I'm not sure what the question is. The door to the stall is at my back, and I'm wrestling with the buttons on his very tight jeans. "Hey, I'm new in town. You should treat me like a guest and let me do what I want."
He drags my hand away. "Now you just wait a minute. What do you think I'm going to let you do? Because if you do anything I don't want, I'm going to scream."
          "You'll scream, all right."



           Bio


I write romance: m/f, m/m, and v/h, where the h is for human and the v is for vampire … or sometimes demon … I lean more towards funny than angst. When I’m not writing I take care of tiny premature babies or teenagers, depending on whether I’m at home or at work. My husband is a soul of patience, my dog’s cuteness is legendary, and we share the homestead with three ferrets. Who steal things. Because they’re brats.
I can be found on-line at all hours of the day and night at my website & blog (www.liv-rancourt.blogspot.com), on Facebook (www.facebook.com/liv.rancourt), or on Twitter (www.twitter.com/LivRancourt). For sneak peeks and previews and other assorted freebies, go HERE to sign up for my mailing list.

Come find me. We’ll have fun!