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Rising Tide cover Hello, I’m Sue Roebuck and I think I can call myself a novelist now my third book, Rising Tide, has been published.

Rising Tide is set in Portugal and is a suspense story with romantic overtones. Some people say I don’t have a “brand” (i.e. I don’t always write the same genre of novel) but I think I do and, for me, Einstein’s quote, “The World will not be destroyed by evil, but by people who watch them without doing anything”. Writing my stories are based on this, which is my way of trying to do something about this evil. The themes of injustice, corruption and unfairness run through my books “Perfect Score”, “Hewhay Hall”, and now “Rising Tide” which is set in Portugal.

You can see the blurb and extract on the publisher’s site by clicking on the cover.

As I said, the story is mostly set in Portugal. Not many people know about this small European country, but – as they say – small is beautiful and it is very special. Cristiano Ronaldo, José Mourinho, Eusebio, Saramago, Fernando Pessoa, Henry the Navigator were all born here. Christopher Columbus offered to sail to the New World for the Portuguese royalty before he went to the Spanish court and he is said to have married a Portuguese girl and parts of their house are on the Portuguese island of Porto Santo still.

The Portuguese people are innovative (for example, they have the world’s most advanced ATM system) and very friendly. And they mostly all speak English.


The village of Luminosa in Rising Tide doesn’t exist but, geographically in my mind, it’s where the red blob is on the map.


So the Alentejo is above the Algarve and below Lisbon. It’s an area of outstanding beauty of gently rolling hills, cork oak forests and vineyards. In Rising Tide, the villagers of Luminosa work the land as well as fish both near the coast and well offshore.

The Alentejo cuisine is varied but relies on locally cultivated ingredients. Beware of the desserts—you’ll gain kilos.

I hope I’ve “whetted your appetite” for this lovely region and that you’d like to read about it in my book “Rising Tide”. If you’d like to buy the ebook, you can go here:

amazon.com : http://www.amazon.com/Rising-Tide-Susan-Roebuck-ebook/dp/B00Y1I9FDK/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

amazon.uk: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Rising-Tide-Susan-Roebuck-ebook/dp/B00Y1I9FDK/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1432467956&sr=8-1&keywords=Rising+Tide+Susan+Roebuck

omnilit: https://www.omnilit.com/product-risingtide-1813241-149.html

Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/rising-tide-susan-roebuck/1121969606?ean=2940151503532

The paper back is available on order from all major bookshops. Quote the ISBN number: 978-1-60659-857-3. OR go to publisher’s site:

http://www.mundania.com/book.php?title=Rising+Tide

Sue can be found at:

http://www.susanroebuck.com
Facebook: http://www.mundania.com/book.php?title=Rising+Tide
Twitter: @suemonte

Author Name: Charley Descoteaux

Book Name: The Pinch of the Game

Release Date: June 24, 2015

Categories: Contemporary, Gay fictions, M/M Romance, Mystery, Paranormal, Romance

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press

Cover Artist: AngstyG

Blurb:

Being a witch doesn’t mean one can beat the devil forever.

Jeffrey Overton, unemployed IT professional turned poker player, pushes his luck once too often and runs afoul of the host of an illegal card club. The man sent to escort Jeffrey to a “meeting” about his supernatural winning streak arrives at Jeffrey’s crappy North Portland apartment, lock-picking tools in hand and a charm to block Jeffrey’s magick.

Head muscle for said host, Mike Wells, is a Daisy from Daisyville. He isn’t a witch. What he lacks in magickal talent he makes up for in brawn, so he doesn’t expect the guy he’s after to overpower him. But once Mike renders Jeffrey helpless, he’d rather seduce him than bring him in.

Jeffrey and Michael ditch the “meeting” and end up hunting some of the same people they ran from, trying to get Jeffrey back into his own body. And that’s only part of the adventure. The pair travel halfway across the country on the quietest road trip in history and find missing people, empire-building witches, and maybe even the families they’d both thought lost to them.

Full information on release day – June 24th

Author Name: N.R. Walker

Book Name: Cronin’s Key II

Release Date: May 22, 2015

Pages or Words: 59,300 words

Categories: Fantasy, M/M Romance, Paranormal, Science Fiction

Publisher: N.R. Walker

Cover Artist: Sara York

 

Blurb:

History isn’t always what it seems.

With the battle of Egypt behind them, Alec and Cronin are enjoying the thrill of new love. Though fate doesn’t wait long before throwing them back into the world of weird.

They know Alec’s blood is special, though its true purpose still eludes them. And given Alec’s inability to be changed into a vampire, Cronin is free to drink from him at will. But the ramifications of drinking such powerful blood starts a ripple effect.

With the help of Jorge, a disturbing vampire-child with the gift of foresight, Alec and Cronin face a new kind of war. This time their investigations lead them to the borders of China and Mongolia—but it’s not what lies in the pits beneath that worries Alec.

It’s the creator behind it all.

In the underground depths of China, amidst a war with the Terracotta Army, they will find out just what the Key is, and what Alec means to the vampire world.

Excerpt :

Alec sat on the sofa with his feet on the coffee table reading the New York Times on an iPad. He’d look up every so often at the apartment, at Cronin’s walls of memorabilia, smiling at the antiques shelved there, then at the vampire beside him.

“What’s so funny?” Cronin asked. He didn’t even look up from the Chinese newspaper he was reading, though a smile played at his lips.

“I was just looking over all your relics,” Alec explained. Cronin had told him about most of the artifacts he’d collected, and despite their conversations starting with good intentions, they usually ended up in the bedroom. Or on the sofa, or on the floor, or over the dining table. “I mean, those antiques are pretty cool, but you’re my favorite.”

Cronin looked up at Alec then. “Your favorite antique?”

“Well.” Alec’s grin widened. “You are a 744 vintage. I think you qualify.”

Cronin smiled, amused. “And you’re a what?”

Alec imitated the guy from Antiques Roadshow. “A contemporary piece, 1980s Americana. Perfect condition, well-endowed.”

Cronin laughed at that. “You’re bored.”

“Ugh.” Alec groaned and let his head fall back on the sofa. “So bored.”

He’d spent the last eight weeks holed up in Cronin’s lavish New York City apartment. His days, which were now fully nighttime hours, consisted of a workout regime—Cronin had installed gym equipment in the cinema room to curb Alec’s boredom—hours of foreplay and sex, the occasional movie on Netflix, and reading and researching vampire histories. He rarely left the apartment.

The view was spectacular, and if he wanted something—anything—he could simply order it, pay for it with Cronin’s black credit card, and have it delivered. But he was still confined to quarters. Meaning he was still wanted by NYPD, his former colleagues no less, though the hype had died down.

The fact that his and Cronin’s disappearing acts, which had been caught on CCTV—once in his department’s office area and once in the department’s stores facility—had been leaked on YouTube, meant Alec’s relatively quiet and unnoticed disappearance had gone global.

The footage went viral, making news headlines around the world and him an internet sensation. Some called it a hoax and disregarded what was just too impossible to understand, and others called it what it was.

Quantum leaping.

Cronin’s ability to appear anywhere in the world—or leaping as they called it—was, in Alec’s opinion, the best talent a vampire could have. And it was awesome. Not that they really went anywhere these last eight weeks.

It still wasn’t a great idea for Alec to be seen in public, and Cronin couldn’t go out in the sunlight. That limited their outings to faraway places, wherever it was night.

Alec sighed and went over to the shelves lined with Cronin’s memorabilia. He had wanted to know about all the items Cronin thought important enough to collect over the last twelve hundred years. As a vampire, Cronin had seen things Alec couldn’t begin to imagine, and he wanted to know as much as he could. He’d asked about most of them, but went to one display that held three items he’d not gotten to yet. Alec put his hand out, almost touching the artifact. “Can I touch it?”

Cronin now stood beside him. “Of course,” he answered with a smile.

Alec carefully picked up the small, crudely glazed bottle, admiring it as he turned it in his hands. It was whitish-brown and looked like a child had made it in school art class “What about this one?”

“That is a Mayan poison bottle.”

Alec blinked. “Oh.” He changed how he was holding it, as though it would now bite.

Cronin smiled. “The year was 821. Jodis and I went there and were ill-received. Can’t imagine why.”

Alec laughed and rolled his eyes. “No, I can’t imagine why either.”

“A witch-doctor offered us a drink,” Cronin said, nodding toward the bottle. “Courteous fellow.”

“Well, it would have been rude to refuse,” Alec added sarcastically.

“Yes, quite.” Cronin said, amused. “In the end, he drank it himself rather than see his end with one of us.”

“And this one?” Alec picked up what looked like a bone knife.

“Ah, that’s a Peruvian weaver’s bone wand.”

“Of course it is.”

Cronin chuckled. “It’s from 1288. An old woman stabbed me with it.”

Alec’s mouth fell open. “She what?”

“She stabbed me, only barely.” Cronin was still smiling. “Eiji and Jodis thought it funny that an elderly human woman could do such a thing. She was no taller than four foot.”

“I hope you killed her.”

Cronin barked out a laugh. “Uh, no. Her heart gave out before I had the chance.”

Alec turned back to the shelves and picked up a long metal pin with a jeweled end. It looked expensive. “And this?”

“That is a seventeenth century French shawl pin,” Cronin said, almost wistfully. “A man tried to stab me with it. I believe it belonged to his wife.”

“What is it with you and being stabbed?”

Cronin sniffed indignantly. “It must be my charming personality.”

Alec snorted. “If by charming personality you mean vampire about to kill them, then yes, I think so too.” But the truth was, Alec knew from years of police work that stabbing was an intimate crime; the offender was well within the other person’s personal space. He frowned. “I don’t like the idea of you being close enough to bite someone else. Or that you have your mouth on their skin… or your teeth.”

Cronin took the shawl pin from Alec and put it back on the shelf. “It doesn’t bother you that I kill people, only that I have my lips on them when I bite them?”

Alec looked to the floor and nodded. “You get close, you touch them, you put your lips on them,” he said. He knew he was pouting, but he couldn’t seem to stop. “It’s not fair.”

Cronin put his finger under Alec’s chin and lifted his face so he could see his eyes. “It is not the same.”

“I know,” Alec said petulantly. He knew he was being unreasonable. He craned his neck, exposing it to Cronin. Alec knew there were vampire puncture wounds marking his skin, and he loved them. He wore them with pride. “I like it when your lips are on my neck, when you bite me. When you drink from me.”

Cronin leaned in and ran his nose along the bite wounds. “Do I not take enough from you?”

“Never,” Alec whispered.

Cronin licked the two bruised hole marks, making Alec shiver. “Do I not bite you enough?”

“Never.” Alec was getting dizzy with want. He had to remind himself to breathe. He leaned against Cronin, feeling the strength and warmth of him from his thighs to his neck. He was already getting hard. “It will never be enough.”

Cronin kissed Alec’s neck once more but pulled away. “I can’t keep feeding from you. It can’t be good for you.”

Alec chuckled. “It is really good for me.”

This time Cronin laughed, a purr rumbled through his chest. “You test my restraint, yet again. Please know, Alec, I’m not opposed to such a notion. Though the hours spent in bed this morning may suggest you need a rest. Just because I can bite you without changing you, doesn’t mean you are unaffected.”

Alec groaned. They’d found out after the battle in Egypt that Cronin could bite Alec and not change him into a vampire. It opened a whole world of questions, but more than that, it meant they could have sex while Alec was human. And yes, as much as he wanted Cronin to take him, fuck him, and bite him, his human body needed recuperation. The intense sexual pleasure and slight blood loss took its toll when it was for hours at a time. So as much as he didn’t like it, he knew Cronin was right.

But Cronin also had a warped sense of time. Living for twelve hundred years would do that, Alec conceded. So while Cronin was patient and content to sit and read or research for hours upon hours, Alec was restless for something else beyond that, some sense of normalcy. He was used to police work, and now he sat around doing a whole lot of nothing. Even though he’d left normal behind the day he’d met Cronin, the vampire he was fated to, he was still a twenty-nine-year-old man. He needed to do something human. He grinned at Cronin. “Come on, let’s go out.”

Cronin quirked an eyebrow. “Where to?”

“A club somewhere.”

“I meant in which city.”

“Oh.” Alec was thinking some nightclub in the Meatpacking District would do. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to being able to leap to any country he chose. He grinned. “Well, it’s night time in Europe. I’ve always wanted to go to London.”

Cronin smiled. “I know just the place.”

* * * *

It took Alec a second to get his bearings. Leaving a warm and well-lit apartment and landing in a cold, dark alley in the time it took to blink was disorienting. He was used to the pain of leaping now. The feeling of being pixelated and shredded at the cellular level was expected, but he knew it was only momentary.

The cold air blasted him regardless, and he shivered against Cronin. Cronin took his hand and led him down the alley, out onto the street.

Alec noticed the cars first. The steering wheel was on the wrong side of the car, the cars were on the wrong side of the road. He looked down the neon-lit street, hearing the foreign accents around him as they passed Londoners having a night out. It made him grin.

Cronin walked up to a nightclub door, ignoring the waiting line-up of hopefuls. The bouncers gave him a nod, and Cronin pulled Alec through the doors with him. “Known around here, I take it?”

Cronin looked over his shoulder and smiled at him, giving Alec a glimpse of his vampire fangs. “This establishment is owned by a friend.”

Okay then. A vampire nightclub. Alec had no clue what he was walking into, yet he felt no fear. He was with Cronin, after all.

Cronin was an elder of the US East Coast, well-known and well-respected. A healthy dose of well feared didn’t hurt his reputation either.

The room was packed and pumping, the floor filled with dancers and drinkers. It was dark inside like most nightclubs Alec had been in, but he could still see that most of the people inside were human. They seemed blissfully ignorant of the company they kept. Alec guessed it kept in line with the vampire law of anonymity, though he did wonder how many of these unknowing humans wouldn’t see morning.

As if Cronin could read his mind, he leaned in close and whispered over the loud music, “No one can be harmed here. It would bring too much attention to the owners. It is simply a business owned by one of our kind.” Cronin pulled back, his dark eyes black, his normally rust colored hair tinted blue from the neon light above. “Drink?”

Alec nodded and Cronin led the way to the bar. Cronin stared for a beat too long at some guy who was leaning against the bar by himself before he nodded and called him by name. “Lars.”

Alec wanted to ask what was up with Lars—he was obviously a vampire—but before he had the chance, a voice came from behind them. “Cronin.”

Cronin smiled before he’d even turned around. “Kennard.”

Alec recognized the man as the elder of the London coven. He’d spoken to him via a video call when they were planning their attack in Egypt two months ago. Kennard was young in human years, no more than twenty. He was shorter than Alec imagined, with a slim build outlined by his fitted jacket with the collar upturned, perfectly styled blond hair, pale skin, and pink lips. He was boyish in looks, but there was a ferociousness lurking under the innocent façade. Alec thought that was what made him even more frightening.

“And Alec!” Kennard said, his eyes lighting up delightedly. He took Alec’s hand. “An absolute pleasure to meet you in person.”

Cronin made a point of looking at Kennard’s hand on Alec’s and feigned a snarl. It was hardly menacing, considering he did it with a smile.

“Oh, hush,” Kennard waved Cronin off. “You’ve been hiding him away for weeks now.” Kennard smiled up at Alec. Kennard’s flair and inflection reminded Alec of an over-acted Shakespeare play, and given Kennard was indeed a London elder, Alec wondered how far wrong he was on when exactly Kennard was human. “So, the hero of Egypt? No wonder you’re fated to Cronin. Only someone rather remarkable would be a match for him.”

Alec wasn’t sure what to make of Kennard. “Um….”

Cronin laughed and took Alec’s hand out of Kennard’s. “Ignore him. He’s an insatiable flirt,” he said, smiling warmly at his English friend. “But yes, Alec was very brave and clever.”

“You forgot handsome and good in bed,” Alec added.

Cronin blushed and Kennard clapped his hands as he laughed. “Oh, how I like you.” Then Kennard gave the barman a nod, “Get my friend here whatever he wants.”

Alec ordered a scotch and lime water, rather thankful he didn’t have to pay, because the only money he had was American dollars.

They followed Kennard through the crowd, up a few stairs, to a booth on a platform. It was clearly Kennard’s table, where he could sit and watch over his club. It also gave them privacy to speak freely without fear of being overheard by human ears. When they were seated, Kennard was still smiling at Alec. “So, the key is still human,” he said. “I have to say Cronin, I’m surprised.”

“Yeah well, about that,” Alec said, sipping his drink. “I can’t be changed. Not for the lack of trying.” He craned his neck slightly so his jacket slid down his neck, knowing Kennard would see the bite marks.

Kennard’s eyes shot to Cronin’s, and he sucked back a breath. “What is the meaning of this?”

“We don’t know,” Cronin said, his arm sliding protectively around Alec’s shoulders. “His blood is… special. It’s what made him the key to defeating Keket in Egypt—he resurrected a mummified vampire with his blood alone,” Cronin said. “Though our seer says his work is not yet done.”

Kennard’s eyes narrowed, but he shook it off and schooled his features with a smile. He looked again at Alec’s neck. “Well, if any one of us were fortunate enough to have the best of both worlds, Cronin, it would be you.”

Alec finished his drink, Kennard waved his hand, and not a moment later another full drink was on the table. “Thank you,” Alec said. “And thank you for helping us in Egypt. I’m glad I got to thank you in person.”

“It is I who should be thanking you,” Kennard said. “It’s not every day we get to meet and talk with a key.”

Alec was beginning to hate that word.

Maybe he wouldn’t hate it so much if he knew what it fucking meant.

Kennard was still obviously shocked. “Yet you can bite him and he remains human?”

Alec swore he heard a rush of whispers from the edges of the crowd. The vampires in the club clearly heard what Kennard said. Cronin let out a low growl. Kennard raised a hand dismissively and the whispers stopped. Cronin’s growl lowered but took a while to fade completely.

Kennard laughed. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about biting here, no?”

Cronin’s reply was low and final. “No.”

Kennard changed the subject of conversation. “How’s Eiji? Is he getting better?”

“All but healed,” Cronin answered. Word had spread quickly that Eiji had survived exposure to sunlight in saving Alec’s life. “He and Jodis are in Japan while he convalesces.”

Alec finished his drink, and a third appeared in front of him. He was already a little buzzed, so he sipped his next drink and scanned the floor while Cronin and Kennard talked of vampire matters. It was all rather political, and Alec was too busy checking out the dance floor to pay any attention. He wasn’t one to dance often, but in the end, it got the better of him. Alec downed his drink and stood up. “I’m gonna hit the dance floor,” he said.

Cronin started to object, naturally, but Kennard put his hand on Cronin’s arm. “Ah, Cronin,” Alec heard Kennard say. “Let him dance while we talk business. No need for the three of us to be bored senseless.”

Not caring they had company, Alec leaned down and kissed Cronin soundly before going back down the stairs and making his way through a sea of people. They were a mix of men and women, and from the lingering, knowing looks by some of them, Alec knew they were a solid mix of human and vampire.

Alec didn’t care. He let his head fall back and closed his eyes, feeling the bass of the music in his chest. It felt good to be doing something so normal, so human. He knew Cronin never took his eyes off him, and once upon a time that would’ve annoyed Alec. He’d have forbidden such possessive behavior, but now he reveled in it. He craved being owned by Cronin, as much as Cronin longed to be owned by him.

Being fated was a beautiful thing.

Alec couldn’t believe he’d once tried to rebuke the idea.

A warm body pressed a little too close, making Alec open his eyes. He knew it had to be some human—no vampire in the club would be stupid enough to approach another vampire’s mate, and Cronin’s mate no less. It was a guy who smiled at him, but before he could even speak, Cronin was in between them, staring at the now-pale human man until he backed away.

Alec pulled himself against Cronin’s ass and laughed. “Jealousy looks good on you.”

“We must leave,” Cronin said.

“He didn’t mean anything by it,” Alec started to say.

But Cronin had Alec’s hand and was leading him to what Alec realized was the back way to the fire escape. “No, we must go. Now.”

Alec knew from Cronin’s tone something was wrong. He tried to clear his head. “What happened?”

“It’s not what has happened,” Cronin said as he pushed through the back door into an alley where Kennard stood waiting. “It’s what’s going to happen.”

Alec had no sooner stepped into the alley, than Cronin looked around and checked that the three of them were alone. He put his arm around Alec, pulled him close, put his hand on Kennard’s shoulder, and they leapt.

About the author:

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…

 

Where to find the author:

 

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100003907957620

Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/N.R.WalkerAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/NR_Walker

Website:  http://nrwalker.wordpress.com/

 

Goodreads Link:


Tour Dates & Stops: May 22, 2015

Parker Williams ~ Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words ~ Molly Lolly ~ Inked Rainbow Reads ~ BFD Book Blog ~, Bayou Book Junkie ~ Multitasking Mommas ~ Rainbow Gold Reviews ~ Carly’s Book Reviews ~ My Fiction Nook ~ Full Moon Dreaming ~ Sinfully Addicted to All Male Romance ~ Cate Ashwood ~ MM Good Book Reviews ~ Velvet Panic ~ Mikky’s World of Books ~ It’s Raining Men ~ Michael Mandrake ~ Elin Gregory ~ Chris McHart ~ Fangirl Moments and My Two Cents

 

Rafflecopter Prize: E-copy of ‘Cronin’s Key’

The Eye of the Beholder banner

The Eye of the Beholder

Release Date: April 29, 2015

Publisher: Wilde City Press

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Length: 103,000 words

Blurb

Final cover artVince Voss is obsessed with physical beauty. Influenced by his aunt, with whom he runs a modeling business, he has become unfeeling and cruel. Vince’s mother, who was a witch in life, returns to show him a better way to live. She casts a spell to take away his good looks and he finds himself challenged with searching for someone to love him, without the use of physical attraction.

Vince eventually meets a lonely male vampire, Peter, and despite his reluctance to get involved with him, he decides to use Peter to help him lift the spell. Little does he that at first, Peter is using him too, and he finally realizes what’s really important when he falls for Peter along the way.

Excerpt

Vince realized he had no problem kissing a boy. He liked Peter, and he was definitely attracted to him. Vince’s body had already begun to react again, even though there was, as yet, no passion in the kiss. His cock filled, lengthening against his thigh, and he resisted the urge to adjust it with his free hand. Instead he slid his arm around Peter, but he resisted and pulled away. Vince opened his eyes in surprise and watched Peter shuffle around and change position. He faced the back of the sofa and settled himself across Vince’s legs so they could reach each other more comfortably. Peter laid a hand over Vince’s heart, and its beat increased. Their lips reconnected, and Vince melted into it. He slid both arms around Peter and deepened the caress until his tongue was in Peter’s mouth, teasing and exploring.

Peter responded heatedly. Soft moans and whimpers came from him as he crushed his lips against Vince’s and stroked his chest. Vince felt Peter’s icy touch on his skin and realized Peter had unbuttoned his shirt without him noticing. Vince shivered and trembled in response. His cock was painfully hard, straining against his fly. He struggled to breathe through his nose as the kiss continued, their tongues thrusting against each other within Peter’s mouth, almost in an imitation of fucking. Vince groaned as the thought put an image in his head—Peter’s pale body beneath Vince, their clothes gone. It was the farthest Vince had allowed his imagination to go, yet the idea didn’t shock him, only thrilled him. Vince changed position, still holding Peter but pushing him off his legs. Vince stretched out along the sofa so that they lay together, never once breaking the kiss.

Peter was as hard as Vince. Vince felt it as their lower bodies touched. Peter continued to stroke his hand over Vince’s chest, pausing occasionally to circle one nipple, then the other, until the small nubs hardened in response to the unaccustomed—and chilly—touch. Peter’s erection, reasonably free inside his loose trousers, repeatedly bumped against Vince. Vince realized Peter was gyrating his hips, trying to rub himself against Vince’s thigh without being too obvious about it. Vince pulled his head back, gasping for breath, and met Peter’s eyes. Once again, they’d darkened with arousal. Vince’s head spun, and he blinked rapidly.

“I thought you wanted to take things slow?”

“I can’t help it. I’ve never felt like this,” Peter whispered.

“Nor have I.” The dizzy, drunken feeling was suddenly more unpleasant than puzzling, and Vince heard rushing in his ears. His mouth was dry, and his heart raced so frantically he wondered if he could be suffering from the onset of some kind of attack. His cock was impossibly hard, painfully so, and the rest of his body was racked with shivers. “Fuck, I don’t feel so good.” The words sounded slurred, and Vince closed his eyes as Peter’s face whirled in front of him.

“Shit. Vince, look at me.” Peter slid off the sofa, knelt beside it, and touched his face. “Vince!”

Vince forced his heavy eyelids up and instantly lowered them again, fearing he might throw up. He heard Peter’s voice faintly through the rushing in his ears. The vampire uttered a string of expletives, interspersed with “I’m sorry” over and over. Peter laid a cold hand on Vince’s forehead, and Vince took deep breaths, hoping he wouldn’t lose consciousness. What the hell is happening to me?

“God, I’m so sorry,” Peter said more clearly. He had removed his hand from Vince’s face, and Vince risked another look at him. Vince’s heartbeat had slowed, and the room no longer spun around him. He blinked and focused on Peter’s face.

“What happened? Did I pass out or something?”

“No. I’m sorry,” Peter said again.

“What for?”

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes, I think so.” Vince pushed himself up a little and rubbed a hand over his face. “Why do you keep saying you’re sorry?”

“I just… I have to go.” In a second, Peter was gone. Vince didn’t have to go to his bedroom to know that Peter had already slipped out of the window and vanished. Vince stayed where he was, accompanied only by the sounds from the TV.

“What the fuck was that?” Vince muttered.

Buy Links

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Amazon UK

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Author Bio

Louise Lyons comes from a family of writers. Her mother has a number of poems published in poetry anthologies, her aunt wrote poems for the church, and her grandmother sparked her inspiration with tales of fantasy. Louise first ventured into writing short stories at the grand old age of eight, mostly about little girls and ponies. She branched into romance in her teens, and MM romance a few years later, but none of her work saw the light of day until she discovered FanFiction in her late twenties.

Posting stories based on some of her favorite movies, provoked a surprisingly positive response from readers. This gave Louise the confidence to submit some of her work to publishers, and made her take her writing “hobby” more seriously.

Louise lives in the UK, about an hour north of London, with a mad Dobermann, and a collection of tropical fish and tarantulas. She works in the insurance industry by day, and spends every spare minute writing. She is a keen horse-rider, and loves to run long-distance. Some of her best writing inspiration comes to her, when her feet are pounding the open road. She often races into the house afterward, and grabs pen and paper to make notes.

Louise has always been a bit of a tomboy, and one of her other great loves is cars and motorcycles. Her car and bike are her pride and joy, and she loves to exhibit the car at shows, and take off for long days out on the bike, with no one for company but herself.

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It’s May 17th again – don’t the years roll by quickly? – and time for another:

Hop Against Homophobia, Biphobia and Transphobia.

This isn’t to say that this is something we should be bearing in mind just once a year. I would hope that anyone who reads this is already well aware of the message but a bit of reinforcement never hurts.

One of my favourite quotes is from Plato. In the original text there’s a lot more to it but the sentiment remains one of the best rules of thumb that I know, and it is usually rendered as:

Be kind – for everyone you meet is fighting a battle about which you know nothing.

It doesn’t usually cost anything to be kind but it can take some effort.

I had an email this week, one of those annoying All Staff emails that usually refer to pilates classes in the lunch hour at a venue 30 miles away, or surplus office equipment. Normally I delete them but this one caught my eye because it had this heading:

It had been sent by Stonewall Cymru, Yr elusen cydraddoldeb lesbiaidd, hoyw, deurywiol a thraws yng Nghymru [The all-Wales charity for lesbian, gay, bisexual & trans equality], as a little reminder that all public places and the public servants who work in them should be mindful, careful and thoughtful at all times and not just when they think they should. Battles are being fought every day, quiet, painful secret struggles, by brave warriors whose polite smiles conceal the wounds they carry.

At the very least we should not be adding to the burdens carried so secretly but Stonewall Cymru takes it a step further with their watchword DimAnwybyddu = No Bystanders. If you hear the comment, that nasty sneering throwaway cut, challenge it. If you see something you suspect might be bullying, interfere. Even the old and the slow, like me, can bear witness, and make it clear that we are prepared to do so.

As usual I’ll be donating, as usual to AKT, and as usual I’m offering a prize to a commenter – an ecopy of A Taste of Copper. Don’t forget to leave your contact deets in your comment.

luxor-640

Title: The Luxorian Fugitive
Series: Ship Logs of the Santa Claus (Book 1)
Length: Novel
Genre: gay romance, science fiction, M/M romance
Publisher: Wayward Ink Publishing

Synopsis

Sergeant Liam Jacks is the security chief of transport vessel, The Santa Claus. He travels the planetary cluster with Marc Danverse, his best friend and captain, seeking to escape his tortured past and find some peace of mind.

Having been through a civil war together, Danverse and Liam are close. Maybe too close….

All that changes when mysterious stranger, Hadrian Jamison, an escaped Adonirati, books passage to Alpha Centauri. Can he be trusted? Can the stories of his past be believed?

The Luxorian Fugitive by Mann Ramblings

As Liam’s fascination with Hadrian grows, jealousy threatens to tear apart his friendship with Danverse.

When Hadrian’s owner shows up, Liam is forced to go against orders in order to launch a rescue mission to save him.

The ensuing conflict may be more than any of them expected.

Buy Links

Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/Luxorian-Fugitive-Ship-Santa-Claus-ebook/dp/B00V6KO1CG/
Amazon UK:  http://www.amazon.co.uk/Luxorian-Fugitive-Ship-Santa-Claus-ebook/dp/B00V6KO1CG/
Amazon AU:  http://www.amazon.com.au/Luxorian-Fugitive-Ship-Santa-Claus-ebook/dp/B00V6KO1CG/
WIP:  http://www.waywardinkpublishing.com/product/the-luxorian-fugitive-by-mann-ramblings/
ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-theluxorianfugitive-1768560-145.html
B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-luxorian-fugitive-mann-ramblings/1121637747?ean=9781925222388

Book Trailer

Excerpt

“WHAT’S TAKING so long, Sergeant? I’m not getting any younger.”
Dr. Saarken stood, bearing his weight on his crutches, in the guest room Liam had been staying in. He stared at the adjoining bathroom door where Liam was prepping himself for the evening. This had been a good day. His legs felt stable in the braces, and the numbness was minimal. He’d finished his morning tea without a spill and holding himself steady was less of a chore for a change.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” came Liam’s voice from behind the door. “This is the only way for you to lay eyes on Hadrian tonight.” “Why not after the match?” Saarken was silent, unsure how to respond.
“Doctor? What happens after the match?”
“If Hadrian wins,” Saarken began, “and he no doubt will, he will be in great demand.” He breathed deeply before continuing. “Phillip will be looking to capitalize on that. Hadrian will bring a great price for the evening.”
This time it was Liam who was silent.
“I’m sorry, Sergeant. There are aspects of the Adonirati existence that are unsavory, to say the least.” Saarken felt fortunate that he couldn’t see Liam through the door. The more time he spent with the sergeant, the more guilt he felt over his hand in this. How did it all get so far out of control?
“Hadrian shouldn’t be an Adonirati.”
Saarken winced at Liam’s angry tone. It was well deserved. “I’m trying to undo that,” he whispered.
Saarken stood alone in the lavish guest room. Ever since Liam had declined the offer of Zero and Orez’s services, he’d kept them away from the sergeant as much as possible. Liam may have said no, but there was a marked conflict in his eyes. It was better to keep him from temptation. If he succumbed, he might lose his nerve for the coming trials.
They needed to rescue Hadrian soon. There wasn’t the benefit of months of preparation this time around. This time they would need to take advantage of a moment’s opportunity. From what he had been told and witnessed, neither Hadrian nor Liam would survive an extended campaign.
Lost in his thoughts, Saarken started when the bathroom door opened. “I feel ridiculous,” Liam remarked. His grimace couldn’t be hidden. “You look perfect.”
Liam wore a fetishistic garment of black leather straps forming a harness. The straps gathered to a codpiece of matching material, finishing to a thong. Leather bands encircled his wrists and ankles. He ran his hands over his now-smooth skin, completely devoid of hair including the top of his head and beard; he could be Zero and Orez’s little brother.
“How did you get your tailor to make this getup and the other clothes so fast?”
“As I’ve told you before, I have a great deal of money.”
Liam frowned as he rubbed his bare head. “Did I really have to shave off everything?”
“It is well-known that my Adonirati are clean-shaven at all times. They will believe you are a new creation of mine that fits through doorways better than the twins. Or they’ll think you’re an Adonirati role-player.”
Liam gave the doctor an irritated look. “I hardly think someone’s going to reach in and check for pubes.”
His crutches thumped on the carpeted floor as he lurched forward, narrowing his eyes at Liam. “You are on Luxorian now, Sergeant,” he snarled. “The affluent elite here have no boundaries when it comes to the Adonirati. This is the only way to get you into the venue without anyone asking questions or performing a DNA scan on you. Everyone must believe you are my faithful servant or we’re all at risk.
“You will be quiet unless spoken to. You will nod and be polite at all times and do whatever I ask of you. If someone decides to reach in and size up your endowment, you will nod and accept it. Anything else, and they will be suspicious. No one will believe I’m being possessive enough with my escort to object.”

Giveaway

Prizes: 1 x $20 WIP Gift Card and 1 x ebook The Luxorian Fugitive

MannRamblingspic-225x300About the Author

Like many gay men, when Mann Ramblings grew up, there weren’t any heroes he could relate to. The world held him back while he tried futilely to hide the real person inside. So much has changed since those hollow days. He finally found his voice, the voice that says it’s all right to revel in the so-called inappropriate joys, laughs, and loves that storm inside a man’s head. It took a long time to find that courage and now that it’s here, he plans to use it well.

While spending years more focused on visual arts, he never let go of his innate passion for storytelling—he wanted to write and draw comic books when he grew up. Once he discovered M/M fiction, a whole new world opened with new possibilities. Why couldn’t you have fantastic and dynamic tales with an M/M cast? He started reading the online tales of authors like, Night Tempest, Rob Colton, and Alicia Nordwell, which only fueled within him the need to create. Eventually he found GayAuthors.org, and with a little coercive nudge from Night Tempest, started sharing his tales with an unexpected level of positive response. That experience and support gave him the courage to cross his fingers and aim for the world of M/M publishing.

Born and raised in Michigan, Mann Ramblings continues to type away, wishing it was practical to use a noisy, old fashioned keyboard that clacks with each strike, if only to annoy his loving partner and spoiled miniature dachshund.

Email: mannramblings@gmail.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mannramblings
Twitter: @mannramblings

A Pride of Poppies – an anthology from Manifold Press

Modern GLBTQI fiction of the Great War

Ten authors – in thirteen stories – explore the experiences of GLBTQI people during World War I. In what ways were their lives the same as or different from those of other people?

A London pub, an English village, a shell-hole on the Front, the outskirts of Thai Nguyen city, a ship in heavy weather off Zeebrugge, a civilian internment camp … Loves and griefs that must remain unspoken, unexpected freedoms, the tensions between individuality and duty, and every now and then the relief of recognition. You’ll find both heartaches and joys in this astonishing range of thought-provoking stories.

An anthology featuring authors:

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    A Pride of Poppies

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