LGBTQIA+

Her breathing quickened…Seducing Cat #MFRWHooks #EroticRomance #LBGTQ+

What could college English Professor Caitlin Shanahan ever have in common with the brash carpenter Kurt Davis?
The sexy sprite Meghan Keenan, that’s what.

Welcome to MFRW Hooks, where the authors of Marketing for Romance Writers share snippets from their stories to entice you into wanting more. Be sure to click on the links at the end to travel!

Remember the Greek Goddess Aphrodite? As a child, I didn’t learn much about Greek Mythology, but I do remember in my late teens hearing an off-color limerick from my dad with the following middle lines:

“He carved Aphrodite
Without any Nightie…

Here’s the full limerick:

There once was a sculptor named Phidias
Whose manners in art were invidious:
He carved Aphrodite
Without any nightie,
Which startled the ultra-fastidious.

Hopefully if you’re reading this blog, you would never count yourself among the “ultra fastidious.” In case you do, this book probably isn’t for you!

My husband and I like to think we invented Meghan Keenan, a modern-day Aphrodite (who probably never wears a nightie), but sometimes we wonder. She’s the star of our six-book F/F/M Ménage series Meghan’s Platyhouse, and we’ll be featuring Book One, Seducing Cat, for the next several Book Hooks.

Meghan is only twenty when the series opens, but she loves both women and men, and loves even more bringing them together, up close and personal.

Here are the opening sentences:

Chapter One

Peering through the lace curtains of her upstairs home office window onto the sundeck and manicured lawn below, Caitlin Shanahan felt her breathing quicken. Her nipples pebbled.

Her renter’s petite nude body glistened under the rays of the late morning sun. Only recently had Caitlin realized how appealing the feminine form could be. She stood behind the curtains, careful not to be seen by the sunbather. Initially, she’d been shocked by Meg Keenan’s penchant for tanning in the nude. What if the neighbors saw her?

But they wouldn’t. The eight-foot privacy fence offered adequate protection from prying eyes—other than those looking out her upstairs window.

BLURB

Levelheaded English Professor Caitlin Shanahan has finally earned tenure and purchased the century-old two-story house of her dreams in the college town of Burntside, Wisconsin—at thirty-four, she’d better face facts: her future is teaching college and writing plays, not falling in love. So why is she so drawn to foxy little hometown actress Meghan Keenan, who’s rented her upstairs apartment, or worse, to the girl’s gorgeous hunk of a lover Kurt Davis, a carpenter who’s never even been to college?

Twenty-year-old Meg has a plan. First she’ll seduce the reluctant professor, then she’ll share her sexual delights with both Cat and her brawny carpenter, and when she’s successfully brought them together, she can make her escape and explore what’s beyond the only town she’s ever lived in.

Kurt can’t stand the up-tight professor who’s hired him to build a gazebo and refurbish her old house—the house he wanted for himself. Even if Meg’s scheme succeeds, he knows Caitlin would never look at him twice. No need to go there in his fantasies…

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“You’re part of the problem…” #MFRWHooks #Holiday #Menage #LGBTQIA+

Welcome to MFRW Hooks, where the authors of Marketing for Romance Writers share snippets from their stories to entice you into wanting more. Be sure to click on the links at the end to travel!

When I and my husband first invented Meghan Keenan, we envisioned writing a sexy romp with lots of menage scenes, capitalizing on her bisexuality. We had no idea she’d hang around for so many books. We also were moved by the way she handles herself. She’s always up front with potential relationships about the fact that she’s bi and non-monogamous. What you see is what you get.

Her good friend in Las Vegas hasn’t got that sorted out yet, and now she finds herself in a relationship that’s turning serous but is missing a crucial piece of information…

BLURB

A ring for Christmas? Sometimes what you hope for and what you fear are one and the same.

In Las Vegas for a brief stint in a musical revue and ready for some uncomplicated sex with a kindred spirit, Meghan Keenan is only too happy to resume connections with her sometimes lover, Lisa Perkins.

But Lisa’s in a quandary. Her most recent boyfriend has suddenly become serious, with hints of a diamond ring in her future – and she’s never told him she’s bisexual. What if he freaks? What if he makes her choose?

Professional photographer Bryce Henry spends his days up close and personal with beautiful models and actresses. Now he’s deeply in love with Lisa and ready to pop the question, but even he wonders about long term fidelity. What does he want, and how bad does he want it?

What will happen when Meg takes hold of Lisa’s problem and runs with it?

EXCERPT

Set Up: Lisa and Meg have spent the afternoon making love, and now they’re sitting in Lisa’s kitchen.

“So you think Bryce is going to give you a ring for Christmas?” Meg asked.

Lisa bit her lower lip and nodded.

Meg cocked her head to the side. “And that’s not good? Or is it? Do you love him?

“Of course I love him,” Lisa retorted. “That’s not the problem.”

“Well, he must love you, or he wouldn’t be giving you a ring.”

“I know he does.” Lisa paused, tightening her finger around the coffee cup. “He says he does. I believe him. At least he thinks he does.”

“Sounds like some hesitancy on your part. Are you hoping there will be a ring for Christmas?”

“Yes. But…”

Meg reached across the small table and patted Lisa’s hand. “What is it? You know you can tell me.”

“I know.” Lisa pulled her hand away. “You’re part of the problem.”

“Me! How can I be part of the problem? I’ve only met Bryce a few times, including the other night. He seems like a nice guy. And the two of you seem to do well together.”

“I don’t mean just you.” Lisa fought back tears. “Bryce doesn’t know I’m into women. That I’m bi.”

Meg gulped. “Oh my. And you think he’ll dump you because you’re bi?”

“I don’t know. I should’ve told him.”

“That’s very true. Why haven’t you?”

“I wanted to.” Lisa looked away. “In the beginning, it didn’t matter—we weren’t serious. And then once things started to change, the time never seemed quite right. I didn’t want to lose him. But now that he’s been hinting about a ring, I seem to be paralyzed.”

“But you have to tell him. Right?”

Looking back at Meg, Lisa nodded slowly. “He’ll wonder why I waited so long.”

“That can’t be helped. Now is now. How are you going to take what apparently will be a leap of faith?”

“I don’t know. I thought maybe you could help – that you might think of something I haven’t yet. I’ve thought of simply blurting it out in the middle of lovemaking. Maybe he’d like another woman to join us. I’ve thought of writing a letter, but that seems too clinical and detached. I keep wringing my hands over this, but I can’t get the words out.”

“I take it you’re not ready to give up women.”

Lisa wet her lips. “I’ve thought about it. I can’t do it. I’m bi. I like women as well as men. That’s the way it is. I’m sure there are plenty of bi women who set aside their desire for the touch of a woman to be with a man. I don’t think I can do it. That wouldn’t be me. If I tried and failed, that would be worse than what I’m facing now.”

BOOK INFO

A Ring for Christmas
Meghan’s Playhouse, Book 4
Can be read as a standalone
Pages: 37
Words: 11, 276
Genres: LGBTQIA+, Erotic Romance, Holiday Story, Contemporary Romance, Menage

 

BUY LINKS

A Ring for Christmas is on sale at the publisher’s, now through December 31, for half price:

BUY AT EXTASY BOOKS FOR $1.00  https://www.extasybooks.com/a-ring-for-christmas

BUY AT OTHER RETAIL OUTLETS  https://books2read.com/u/m2daPo

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“I wouldn’t want to be a third wheel…” #MFRWHooks #HolidayStory #EroticRomance #LGBTQIA+

Welcome to MFRW Hooks, where the authors of Marketing for Romance Writers share snippets from their stories to entice you into wanting more. Be sure to click on the links at the end to travel!

All my prior published holiday stories are half off at Extasy Books, now through December 31. Today I’m featuring The Gift Echange, an erotic romance menage holiday story.

BLURB

It’s Christmas Eve—what gifts will Mack, Carol and Tara unwrap together?

What is Carol up to now? Mack has always known his free-spirited wife is bisexual, but it seems she has new adventures on her mind this Christmas season.

Carol has long entertained fantasies of a threesome with herself, her husband, and their attractive nearby neighbor, Tara. Now that Tara’s troublesome ex is out of the picture, is this the season to make Carol’s fantasies come true?

Tara’s felt a little deprived since breaking things off with her ex, and she’ll admit she envies what Mack and her best friend Carol seem to share. If they invite her to join them, will she dare?

EXCERPT

“Cocoa and marshmallows are heavenly after snowshoeing,” Carol said, wrapping her fingers around the hot mug Tara had set on the kitchen table for her. She took another sip and watched Tara inhale the steam of her mug deeply. This was the moment. She couldn’t tell which she wanted more—to watch Mack respond as Tara pleasured him, or to give him the gift of watching her and Tara play together. Both, she decided. Would her fantasies come true?

“You are so right,” Tara responded. “It’s been a grand morning. The air was crisp, but not too cold. And the snow was just right. The snowshoes didn’t sink so deep that we had to work hard.” Tara brushed fingers through her long reddish locks. “Sometimes it felt like we were walking right on top of the snow.”

“Yeah, felt like we were on top of the world. So exhilarating. Not many experiences top that.” She gave Tara a knowing smile.

“Right. Don’t get yourself worked up. You know I have to head into town for an appointment. We only have twenty minutes before I have to leave.”

“I know. I know. Sipping cocoa with you will have to tide me over.” Carol grinned broadly. “I wish we had all day to play.”

“Me, too. But when I get back I’m going to really have to buckle down on my writing. I have an editing deadline just before Christmas. I’ll never accept another deadline like that again—there’s hardly time to think about Christmas. It’s not like I’m going anywhere, but I do so much enjoy the season. When there’s time.”

“Speaking of Christmas…not sure how much we’ll see you before, but Mack and I want you to join us for Christmas Eve.”

“Really?” Tara’s eyes misted. “But I know that’s such a special time for you guys. You’ve told me every year how you celebrate Christmas.” She arched an eyebrow. “Capping it off in bed, if I recall correctly.”

“The Night before Christmas story takes place in bed, right?”

Tara broke up laughing. “Yes, but I believe your night before Christmas is a bit more erotic. I don’t think there’s room for me.”

“Nonsense. We don’t want you to be alone. We’ll have our own little party. We can finish decorating the tree, exchange some gifts, and share a toast or two with eggnog…maybe even play some reindeer games.”

“That sounds like fun. But I wouldn’t want to be a third wheel.”

“You won’t be.”

BUY LINKS

BUY AT EXTASY BOOKS FOR 80 CENTS  https://www.extasybooks.com/the-gift-exchange

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Better than Beginnings by Lynn Hayes (@LynnHayes3) Audio Release Blitz #mmromance #audio

Title: Better Than Beginnings

Series: Better Than Stories, 5

Author: Lane Hayes

Narrator: Nick J. Russo

Publisher: Lane Hayes

Release Date: January 30, 2020

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 10 Hours 46 Minutes

Genre: Romance, Bisexual, Established Couple, MM Romance, Gay romance

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Synopsis

Matt Sullivan knows he met someone special the night he spots the sexy man on the dance floor. However, he doesn’t know his life is about to change forever. First of all, Matt is straight. Okay, maybe not, but he doesn’t think falling in love and spending the rest of his life with a hotheaded, unapologetically fabulous diva is an option.

Aaron Mendez is confident, smart, and very comfortable in his skin. He knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to go for it. And though he might have reservations about falling for someone newly out of the closet, no one has ever looked at Aaron the way Matt does.

Navigating a relationship has its challenges, but both Matt and Aaron are willing to deal with difficult parents, holiday blues, and learning curves. They know their happy ever after is worth fighting for and that true love is better than good.

*No/low angst, sexy fun! This collection of short stories follows the lives of Matt and Aaron from my first novel, Better Than Good. The end of one chapter is the beginning of a whole new story from ordinary everyday life to an engagement, a wedding, and more. This collection is dedicated to Matt and Aaron fans and those who believe that the real love story happens after the first “I love you”.

Excerpt

Better Than Beginnings Excerpt- From Better Than Wedding

“What’s Saturday?”

“A no-work day. And we’re meeting with our wedding planner. I was worried his ideas would be too pricey, but Vic will be thrilled when I tell him you agreed to spare no expense on the reception.”

“That doesn’t sound like something I’d say,” I huffed, blowing on a spoonful of chili, then taking a bite. “Mmm. This is delicioso.”

Gracias. Well, someone who looks and sounds a lot like you just agreed to a unicorn ice sculpture at our reception,” he deadpanned.

I snorted. “Yeah, right. You can’t use anything I say in the last few seconds of a playoff game against me.”

“Does that mean no to two champagne fountains too?” He snickered at my stone-faced expression as he reached for his wine. “Fair enough, but you’d better start weighing in before I’m tempted to do something crazy. This isn’t just my wedding, it’s our wedding.”

I turned to fully face him. “I thought we were set. We have a date, a place, and a minister. We agreed on invitations, and we even talked about our honeymoon. What am I missing?”

“The details, Matty! All the details.” Aaron flashed an incredulous look at me and smacked his hand on the island. “Look, you’re busy at work, and I know the last things you think about are table decor and cake toppers, but I’m busy too and I can’t stop thinking about them. And then my head explodes with more choices like roses or lilies, chocolate ganache or buttercream, and don’t even get me started on the seating arrangements. It’s making me crazy!”

“I can see that.” I chuckled and set my spoon aside, snaking my arm around his waist when he glared at me. “Hey, I’m kidding. Tell me what you want me to do. How about if I choose the flowers?”

“Oh, no. Definitely not. I know you too well, Matty. You’d wait until the last minute, then either ask your secretary or my future monster-in-law to help and there’s no way in hell I’d—”

“Hey. No need to get nasty here.” I threaded my fingers through his and kissed the platinum band on his left ring finger.

“I’m sorry. I know I told you I’d handle things, but you’re kind of strict about the budget.”

“One of us has to be if we want to buy—”

“I know.” Aaron leaned against me and kissed my shoulder. “I think it’s a great idea, but the problem is that you don’t really understand how much things are. You need to be part of some of the major decisions, so you get the picture. I have a proposition to make.”

“Oh, boy. What did you do, and how much is it going to cost?” I asked, slipping his glass from his hand and taking a healthy swig.

“Ha. Ha. I didn’t do anything. Yet. But let’s be real—this whole thing is going to cost a fortune, but it’ll be worth it. I’ve already done the bulk of the research, and Vic is a great resource, but I still think we should have a weekly powwow so I can go over things with you before we meet the wedding planner. So we don’t waste time or veer off course…because yes, Vic really did ask how my fiancé felt about a caviar bar.”

“Oh, my God.” I set the glass down and gulped.

“Don’t worry, Papi. I told him it wasn’t your style. But gosh, I could easily get talked into a champagne fountain. It sounds romantic, doesn’t it?”

“No.”

Aaron snickered at my quick reply and gestured for me to eat. “See the problem? I promise I won’t make any rash decisions, but I need your input on some things if we’re going to make it to the altar without you wringing my neck when I’m ten thousand dollars over—”

“Ten thousand!” My jaw dropped as I widened my eyes comically.

“Calm down. I’m innocent. I’ve been so good it hurts,” he said with a sigh. “But if something is going to hurt, it should be in a good way. And preferably with an orgasm or two. Don’t you agree?” Aaron lowered his hand and rubbed his palm over my half-hard cock.

“Y-yeah.”

“We should have our husband-to-be chats once a week to discuss our plans.”

I lifted my hips slightly and cupped his neck to bring him closer. “Good idea.”

“But you’ll have to give me your undivided attention,” he purred as he pulled at the elastic bands of my shorts and boxer briefs. Then he slipped his fingers under the fabric and grabbed my dick. “I don’t want to compete with basketball, baseball, or anything else. It’ll be a special date. Just me and you.”

“Mmm. Yes.” I licked the corner of his mouth, pulled his pajamas and boxer briefs down, and kneaded his ass.

“We can be flexible about the day and time,” he said in a throaty tone, nipping my jaw as he stroked me from base to tip.

“What about location?” I asked, tracing his crack with my middle finger.

“Yes. Anywhere is fine.”

Purchase

Lane Hayes | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author

Lane Hayes loves a good romance! An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to well-told love story with beautifully written characters. Her debut novel was a 2013 Rainbow Award finalist and subsequent books have received Honorable Mentions, and were winners in the 2016, 2017, 2018-2019, 2020-2021 Rainbow Awards. She loves wine, chocolate and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband in a newly empty nest.

 

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Don’t miss Rick R. Reed as my guest today at Sweet ‘n Sexy Divas @Rickrreed #LoveIsLove #LGBTQIA #Transgender

Sometimes in this business you read a book that moves you deeply, that touches dilemmas being faced by people you love, that articulates so beautifully what it means to live an authentic life that you wish everyone would read it.

Rick Reed has written such a book, and this morning he is sharing about it as my guest at Sweet ‘n Sexy Divas .

His latest release, The Impossible Childhood of My Desires, is the story of what unfolds in a mid-life married gay male couple when one partner transitions to the woman she has always known herself to be.

You won’t want to miss both what he shares about how this story came to be, and the excerpt that is the turning point in the book. I’ve added my review at the end of his post.

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#NewRelease: The Necromancer’s Heart, by Robin Harper @Suntail7 #LGBTQIA+ #fantasy #booklover #bookblogger

Title: The Necromancer’s Heart

Author: Robin Harper

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 11/16/2022

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 21300

Genre: Paranormal, LGBTQIA+, fantasy, supernatural, gay, first love, HFN

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Description

Mortimer’s life is set in stone. That is until he takes the reins and rejects his crown and his namesake. Striking out on his own, he discovers a whole new world and a whole new him. But even with all of the newness, falling in love is still his greatest dream.

Then he meets Galen. He never planned on falling for a man who stands for everything he’s not. Now he just has to deal with the significance of his birthright.

Excerpt

The Necromancer’s Heart
Robin Harper © 2022
All Rights Reserved

I fell into a hole.

I know, stellar move there. I was such a graceful individual. So graceful that I’d not only fallen into a hole, but I managed to sprain my ankle. Hopefully. I couldn’t tell for sure, but based on how painful it was, and how I could literally put no weight on the joint, I was betting it was broken. Only a fool would fall into a hole and break his ankle and thus remove any hope he had of getting out of said hole.

“Help!? Anyone up there?” I called out again for what seemed like the hundredth time. The sun had gradually been crawling along the sky so I knew I had to have been here for some hours, thank the living dead that night hadn’t fallen yet.

Alas, with no sign of passers-by or any fellow travelers that might take a moment of their day to aid me, I might have to think about this pit with its dirt and worms as my bed for the night.

And hope no wolves come for a snack.

Perhaps I should have stayed home and done as I was told. Those fairy tale stories made running away from a great destiny seem simple, and easy. I guessed reality must ever grind down on the mortals of the world to remind them they are but prisoners to fate on its plane of existence.

“Please! Someone! Anyone–help!” I cried again, despair thick in my voice. No one would hear me; what was the point? I was about to slump back against the dirt walls of my pit when a shadow danced along the side–and did the wind rustle the grass? Or was that the stepping of light feet? I eagerly pressed myself up against the side of the hole where I saw the shadow milling about. “Hey! Hey down here! Please help me!”

My hopes were dashed when two furry ears and a face of white whiskers greeted me. The accompanying ‘Maow’ crushed my heart.

“Oh, hello, adorable.” The cat was striped, black and white contrasting in defined lines across its face. The white whiskers wiggled as it ‘maow’ed’ down at me again, and I smiled despite my despair.

Cats always had an affinity for death and those of us who worked with it.

“Hey, sweetie—do you have a master? Hm? Someone who can pull me out of this pit? Anyone nearby to hear your small meows?”

“Maow!” the critter called down while its striped tail swayed behind it.

I sighed, “No, I suppose you don’t…”

The cat gave a trill and wandered away. My shoulders slumped as I took in my earthy prison. I guess I’d better make myself comfortable for the night, and try to find a stick or something as a weapon… Maybe one of the tree roots was hard enough to use as a blunt force weapon…

While I was hopping over to the other side of my dirty sanctuary the cadence of someone yelling echoed down the pit. Faint—but most assuredly a human’s voice.

Oh, praise the Dead!

“Hello! Over here! Please help me!” I bellowed, attempting to make my voice go as far as possible.

“Blasted pet–what are you doing? Stop tripping me!” Did the cat find help? Was that something a cat could do?

Not possible. But despite possibilities and probabilities, a petite black and white striped head with whiskers and big fluffy ears popped up again and gave me a friendly “Maow,” while its tail swished. I smirked, awkwardly because now I heard heavier, human footsteps approaching. And while that should spell my freedom from this forsaken hole, it meant interacting with another person.

I wanted out of this pit, of course, but my social graces were rusty to say the least. The mere idea of speaking and interacting with another person was a daunting task now. Hopefully it was some old man who would offer me a ride in the back of his potato wagon so that we didn’t have to speak so much while he took me to the nearest town…

The figure that appeared beside the striped kitty was not that of an old man. Oh no, I would never be that lucky. No, my fate was cruel and instead of some crotchety old man with beady, pale grey eyes and scruff for hair, a pair of golden-brown eyes met mine, a solid frame, square jawline. Skin that had been kissed by a thousand suns, thick, dark hair…and a furrow formed between two fine eyebrows as he startled at seeing someone very much alive in this hole.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Robin Harper is a bisexual, polyamorous witch who lives with her husband and two sweet ginger cats in the cold northern state of Minnesota. She finds joy in creating stories about love, and healing, as well as weaving ghost tales and supernatural encounters. She is also an avid reader, an optician during the day, and a lover of coloring books.

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Breakfast Buddies #NewRelease by Ildar Daminov #Giveaway #LGBTQIA+

Title: Breakfast Buddies

Author: Ildar Daminov

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 11/01/2022

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 23900

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, college students, self-discovery, first love, cultural differences, writing

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Description

We humans are spectacularly bad at understanding our own emotions.

A socially conservative Asian young man makes a life-changing decision—he moves to an international metropolis in the very heart of Europe to start his first year as a student at a prestigious academic institution. During one of the very first breakfasts at his new residence he meets a senior student, Jürgen B., to whom he takes an instant liking. As their friendship progresses, these small breakfast sessions become more and more meaningful to the young man, who starts to question both his own identity and his values as he discovers the depth of his confusing feelings about Jürgen.

His struggles to figure out what Jürgen means to him are made even worse by his fears about opening up, especially to his own family. In his desperation, he turns to the only method at hand—reflecting on his diary records, which he makes every day. That is how his first academic year in Europe becomes an exercise in understanding and accepting himself and his own feelings. As the summer approaches, Jürgen, who is completely oblivious of his friend’s dilemma, is about to graduate and leave the academy for good. In the meantime, his friend is still torn between confessing his feelings and doing what others seeming to want from him.

Excerpt

Breakfast Buddies
Ildar Daminov © 2022
All Rights Reserved

Prologue
August 16, 2019

Sunny

We humans are spectacularly bad at understanding our own emotions.

I rummaged through a pile of books, trying to find it. Where could it be? I thought it had to be somewhere in between these dusty old tomes. Yet my attempts to find it seemed futile, and I got increasingly angry—my short-tempered nature did not help either. I pushed aside a pile of books standing in my way, mumbling in great annoyance. Some of them fell on the floor with loud thumps. After the idea came to me, I simply could not forget about it. I had to find it. There was just no other way. It must have been somewhere among all these heavy monographs on Korean politics, East Asian history, and countless language textbooks—the scholarly legacy of my former studies.

In my hectic search, I accidentally toppled one of the piles and cursed quietly. That was when I saw an old, laminated picture gracefully land on top of the scattered books. It looked familiar, so I picked it up. It was a photo of me and my academy friends—Jean Luc, Aja, Negasi, and… Jürgen. I felt a funny prickle in my heart. The picture made me slightly nostalgic about my student days. Ah, the academy, that international, scholarly melting pot. That was the place where it all started… Then I came back to my senses and shook my head, as if trying to free myself from some magical slumber. I had to concentrate, so I hid the photo in my coat pocket and resumed my search.

Where could it be? I clearly remembered leaving it here after my trip to Seoul, at least I thought I did. As the evening progressed, so did my desperation. I had come all the way back home to retrieve it—all this could not have been in vain! I sneezed. A cloud of dust exploded right in front of me, and I closed my eyes, grunting yet again in a mix of annoyance and desperation. Still, I persisted. After an extra hour of extensive searching that involved tired puffing, desperate muttering, and other forms of noiseless complaints, I finally found the precious object that I had been so obsessively looking for.

There it was. A rather unremarkable battered notebook with a brown leather cover that had almost lost its color. The binding had two numbers engraved on it—2016/2018. Inconspicuous though it looked, there was something mysteriously magical and enticing about it. Why did I need it so badly in the first place? I asked myself. I certainly knew the uncomfortable answer. It was a part of me, a part that I wanted to forget. Its semi-magical importance was reflected in the story that it told—a long-forgotten story of internal struggle, love, cowardice, and personal growth.

I smiled to myself furtively. It had taken a lot of courage to get back home, find it, and embark on a new adventure. So I had to make sure that I did everything properly. After all, diaries are simple but powerful tools: these mighty artifacts of the past that can bring back unnecessary memories and reopen old wounds. A phenomenon truly curious and somewhat egocentric in nature. Why do we even write diaries? We share our hopes and dreams, vent out anger and frustration in their pages. There are people who do not even have a clear aim when they first put pen to paper. There are people who want to organize their thoughts properly. There are people who do not know to whom they could entrust their secrets and so choose a silent paper friend. There are people who like to self-reflect and want to better understand themselves. There are people…

So many people and so many diaries. Some are full of trite details of daily routines, while others diligently guard what our past selves thought to be our dearest and most important memories. Some become deeply cherished heirlooms passed down from generation to generation, while others are consumed by the insatiable quicksand of history, the names of those who wrote them vanishing like the final gentle whisper of the early autumn wind. Yet every diary—no matter how boring or gripping it is—tells a story and creates meaning where there was none. If used wisely, that meaning helps us to better understand this ridiculously complicated world through the stories of ourselves and others.

My furtive smile became brighter as I carefully studied the dusty notebook in my hands. I was full of triumph and determination—and yet felt a tiny droplet of melancholy and wistfulness. As I kept looking at it, I wondered whether I was ready to finish the last entry. Perhaps, this was the right time to revisit the diary and do it.

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Meet the Author

Ildar Daminov is a Tatar Kazakhstani social scientist and a modern-day nomad who resides in and travels across Europe. In his free time, he writes short stories in English and Russian and does a podcast on North Korea. If you like this story, you can contact him via his email or on Facebook.

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#NewRelease Love, Lorena, by @AuthorIvyLJames #LGBTQIA+ #Giveaway

Title: Love, Lorena

Author: Ivy L. James

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 10/18/2022

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 57950

Genre: Contemporary Fantasy, LGBTQIA+, contemporary, lesbian, bisexual, light romance, royalty, matchmaker, arranged/forced marriage, modern fairy tale, flirting, interracial/intercultural, pets, family drama

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Description

Lorena García Fernández has built her matchmaking company, “Love, Lorena,” from the ground up, but her parents refuse to acknowledge the business as legitimate. Hoping to impress them, she travels to Ìovoria to find Crown Prince Callum a match. However, when Callum unexpectedly abdicates, his wild sister, Rosamund, becomes the crown princess and Lorena’s new client.

Lorena knows “Rowdy Rosamund” from the news headlines, but as she helps the princess, she learns there’s more to Rose than her public persona. The two women grow closer with each date Lorena sets up for the crown princess, and Lorena finds herself falling for Rose.

With only a month to find the perfect match, each failure increases the pressure to succeed. How will Lorena choose between her duty and her heart?

Excerpt

Love, Lorena
Ivy L. James © 2022
All Rights Reserved

In her rural Virginia office, Lorena García Fernández bypassed the usual salacious story about the Ìovorian princess and snipped out the article about her business trip. The blades of her scissors slid through the newspaper in long, clean lines, perfectly even on every side. Although she sometimes wondered why Westmoreland County still used physical newspapers, she had to admit it was handy now.

She set the article in its frame and glanced at the front door to see if her second-in-command had arrived. No sign of her, but then again, it wasn’t even seven o’clock yet. Cool early-morning sunlight streamed through the windows and glass door. Lorena straightened the clipping, pressed the back of the frame into place, and double-checked how it looked from the front. Flawless. She rose from her chair and hung the article on the wall between two testimonials, neat and level.

Her ginger cat, Amado, rubbed against her ankles before hopping onto the desk, his tail twitching impishly. He wove between two photos of Lorena in Ìovoria—one selfie set in rolling green hills, one in the ancient capital city—and leapt onto the windowsill, where he settled to chirp at a bird.

The lock clicked, and the bell over the front door jingled. In walked Lorena’s best friend and vice president, Natascha Barclave, juggling her purse and several binders overflowing with papers. Her mouse-brown curls were pulled into a french braid but already frizzing around the edges of her freckled face. She reached out with one full hand and flipped the CLOSED sign to OPEN with her pinkie finger. “I’m here, I’m here. And it may not look like it, but I’m fully prepared for the Johnson intake interview at ten.”

“Are those my Wallace-Díaz notes?” Lorena took the binders and set them safely on the welcome desk. “What the hell did you do to them?”

“Chill. Everything’s still in there. It’s just a little, um, messier.” Natascha dropped her purse onto the desk chair. They did their quick secret handshake and bumped fists before getting back to business. “I took Casey Bright home, too, and ran the numbers. We should set her up with Allie Masterson. They were a 90 percent match in the algorithm, and I think they’d get along well.”

Lorena flipped through the Bright binder and found the printout of the results. Promising indeed. “Okay, let’s talk first-date options after my eight o’clock review with Eve Ebron.”

Her work cell rang atop her desk. Lorena snatched up the phone and pressed it to her ear. “Thank you for calling Love, Lorena. This is Lorena. How can I help you?”

“Good morning, love!” The two familiar, Ìovorian-brogued voices sounded far away: Teague and Ailsa Duglass on speakerphone. The two thirtysomething aristocrats talked over each other before Ailsa shushed Teague and asked Lorena, “How’s your first day back in the office? Is the jet lag bad?”

“Not too bad, but I will say I already miss Ìovoria.” She leaned against the desk. “How are y’all?”

“Enjoying the honeymoon you planned for us.” Teague’s smile shone through his voice.

“Thank you again for everything you did, bringing us together,” Ailsa said. “It was all straight out of a fairy tale. I never thought I had a perfect match, but you found him.”

“Think you’ll find that someone special of your own soon?” Teague asked.

Lorena’s throat closed, but she tossed out a blasé “Nah. My to-do list is long enough.” As if she couldn’t be bothered, as if she’d hardly considered it at all. As if her own parents’ brutal divorce hadn’t convinced her long ago love wasn’t in the cards for her. Not now, not ever.

“Not to worry, we won’t hold you up. You’ve plenty of clients to help, I’m sure.” Ailsa paused meaningfully. “We wanted to let you know a little something special is coming your way soon.”

A thank-you card, maybe? If Lorena was lucky, it would include a hefty tip. Running an international matchmaking company wasn’t cheap. “You didn’t have to do that. Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” Ailsa corrected her. “I’ve never been happier in my life. You have a gift, you know?”

Lorena’s heart warmed. Nothing felt as good as a satisfied customer.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Ivy L. James wrote her first story on Post-it notes as a child. Since then, she has graduated to regular paper and enjoys writing inclusive, heartwarming romance as a way to counterbalance the negativity in the world. She lives in Maryland with her partner and their corgi, cat, and two snakes.

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Ace of Hearts by Lucy Mason New Release Blitz and Giveaway! @ninestarpress @indigomarketingdesign #LGBTQIA+

Title: Ace of Hearts

Author: Lucy Mason

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 10/04/2022

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Male/Female

Length: 60200

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, Romance, contemporary, new adult, family-drama, asexual, college students, sports injury, fake marriage, slow burn, friends to lovers, abusive father, depression

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Description

Hesper Stalides and Felix Morlan have been best friends for as long as they can remember, bonding over their troubled home lives. When a horrible sports injury derails Felix’s promising career and results in the loss of his scholarship, Hesper offers a proposition: a year-long marriage of convenience so he can get free tuition at the college where she works.

It isn’t supposed to be complicated…until they fall in love for real. When Hesper reveals that she’s asexual, Felix must reassess everything he thinks about love and ask himself what he’s willing to sacrifice for a future with Hesper—before the past she’s spent her life running from can take her away from him forever.

Excerpt

Ace of Hearts
Lucy Mason © 2022
All Rights Reserved

Hesper

It was not my Felix Morlan lying in the hospital bed, tangled in the sterile white sheets. He was the bravest, funniest, most cheerful man I knew, strong enough to make up for it when his friends were weak, and this wasn’t him. I brushed his dark hair away from his forehead, which was glistening with sweat, pain hazing over his eyes.

“Sorry I scared you, Hes.” His voice cracked, and I handed him a Styrofoam cup filled with cold water and ice chips.

“I’m just glad you’re…”

Okay? Of course he wasn’t okay. One of his teammates had shown me a replay of the hit that had hyperextended his knee and destroyed his ACL. It had been on mute, and Felix was wearing a helmet that obscured part of his face, but the contorted expression of agony was seared into my memory. He may or may not have blacked out from the pain; I wasn’t sure because I quit watching, unable to stomach it.

“Want me to call the nurse?” I asked tentatively.

He turned his head away, but not before I caught the shine of tears gathering in his eyes. His leg was wrapped heavily in dressings, but I’d seen it when he came out of surgery, exhausted but too frightened to sleep while I waited. The skin around his knee was swollen, an angry red color where staples held the surgical wounds closed. I’d sat by his bed, sketching on the small pad I kept in Calamity, my old Jeep, while he slept off the anesthesia. But he was awake now, and he twisted his calloused hands in the sheets.

“They’ll be keeping me for observation for a few days. Go home and get some rest.”

“Nope.”

“Some of the guys from the team will stop by and—”

“Nope,” I reiterated firmly, crossing my arms.

It was a policy we’d had with each other our whole lives, and it didn’t change even when we’d moved halfway across the country together for college: we had nobody else here, but we had each other. He’d watched my back, and I would watch his. Felix and I had been best friends since we were old enough to walk and talk. Now, his mom was in jail while his dad was busy raising his six younger siblings, and I had run away from Missouri to avoid getting an order of protection against my own father. We’d basically raised each other. I wasn’t running away at the first sign of trouble.

“Show me.” He held out one hand for my sketch pad and I clutched it to my chest. “Come on.”

Normally this was fine. I’d draw tables covered in leaves, teacups and books and pocket watches and chunks of amethyst and rusty old keys, the kind of things I found aesthetically soothing. But I’d been doing something different while he slept, trying to erase the memory of his pain in the video replay of his injury. I’d drawn the slightly blocky angle of his jaw, his mouth turned up in half a smile, a five-o’clock shadow dusting the sides of his face. I’d drawn him happy, my best copy of the way he looked in my favorite memory of him.

I contemplated crumpling the page before he could see it.

Instead, I flipped back to an earlier page where I’d been doing a study of the trees outside his hospital window, light filtering through them in an orange haze as the sun rose. I hadn’t been able to quite capture it with the small bag of pencils I had on hand, but it was enough that he got the idea.

“Remind me again why you aren’t going into this?” He sounded clearer than he had in several hours, his eyes focused on my sketch pad. It was an uncomfortable feeling, to see someone marvel at my work. Like being under a microscope.

“No steady paycheck,” I reminded him, counting the reasons I’d rehearsed to people a hundred thousand times off on my fingers. “Deadlines would push me to create when I didn’t feel like it. I would grow to hate it if I had to do it for a living. The pressure would be too intense.”

I didn’t list the other reason. Sometimes it took every ounce of energy I possessed just to get up in the morning. Sometimes I simply didn’t have enough inside me to both function and create. Art was my escape. If I turned it into another source of stress, where would I hide when the rest of the world got to be too much? What would I do to restore the balance?

“Those are all good reasons,” he agreed begrudgingly, and he reached back over to hand the pad back to me, twisting slightly to do so.

He didn’t say a word but the set of his mouth and eyebrows told me he’d moved wrong, in a way that would have left him screaming if he hadn’t been so heavily medicated. My chest hurt, my lungs burning because I just couldn’t get enough oxygen in, because I couldn’t breathe looking at the way my best friend suffered. This was the sort of thing you read about in the paper or heard about on the news. It happened to other people, sure. But it wasn’t supposed to happen to Felix.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Lucy lives in rural southern Illinois with a frankly ridiculous amount of yarn and books. During the day she works in adult education and by night she’s a writer and dabbler in yarncrafts. She knits, loves video games and podcasts, and cries over fictional characters regularly.

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Death at Bayard Lodge by Winnie Frolik #NewRelease #LGBTQ+ #Historical #Giveaway #MFRWAuthor

Title: Death at Bayard Lodge

Series: The Mary Grey Mysteries, Book Two

Author: Winnie Frolik

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 09/20/2022

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 67800

Genre: Historical, LGBTQIA+, historical, crime, lesbian, district nurse, private detective, 1930s, country house, death

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Description

When district nurse Mary Grey and her lover Harriet accept an invitation to visit the latter’s godmother in the beautiful Lake District, they’re hoping for a relaxing outing. But from the very start, they find themselves pulled into a web of intrigue, resentments, deceit, and violent passions.

Young newlywed Rachel Florry is found on the lawn with her skull smashed in and there’s no shortage of suspects. From the girl whose fiancée Rachel stole, to a sinister vagrant, to Rachel’s own mystery lover.

Mary calls on her old friend and partner, private detective Franz Shaefer to come down to Bayard Lodge and help solve the case. But as they unearth buried secrets and hidden agendas, they themselves are at risk.

Excerpt

Death at Bayard Lodge
Winnie Frolik © 2022
All Rights Reserved

England
Summer 1937

The horrific events of the previous winter, when the notorious beauty and heiress Harriet West had lost her brother, her uncle, and her fiancé, had yielded one unexpected benefit. She was suddenly free of any and all social obligations. After all, nobody could expect a girl who’d been through such heartache and trauma as Harriet to attend anyone’s coming-out ball or go somewhere for a spot of shooting, much less throw any parties herself. It was perfectly understandable she would wish to keep to herself and see only a few very close friends.

It made perfect sense for her to settle in a flat in the city rather than stay in the Newcastle mansion that was really far too big for one or even two single women. Nor was it so surprising she chose to have a flatmate. Many perfectly respectable unmarried women these days preferred to live with female companions rather than be completely alone. True, that Harriet’s live-in companion, Mary Grey, was a district nurse was rather unusual, but there was little harm in it. And it really was quite a nice little flat, located in a most modern building in a fashionable neighborhood with on-site service. The flat had a tidy little kitchenette and main living area. The plumbing and heating were quite modern and state of the art. Harriet had an excellent time furnishing the place in the Art Deco style, with sleek lines, metallic finishes, and walls hung with photographs and modern art. Some of the experimental abstract pieces Harriet gushed about looked to Mary’s eyes like things a child could have drawn, but it was Harriet’s money. She did at least like one piece: an extraordinarily colorful and vibrant tableau featuring flowers, monkeys, and birds done by some Mexican artist named Frida.

Ahab, the ginger cat Mary had inherited from a deceased patient, settled into his new surroundings quickly and would spend hours sunning himself on the window ledge. The building had a regular charwoman on staff to handle the cleaning. This had at first bothered Mary; unlike Harriet she wasn’t used to being waited on, but as Harriet pointed out, if they didn’t let the woman clean the place, she would be out of a job. And she had both a crippled husband and two children to support. Mary conceded the point. Besides, over time she came to admit it was nice to be able to come home to a neat and tidy space without exerting oneself.

Harriet had purchased a bar trolley which they kept faithfully stocked with her favorite brand of sherry. They had a little icebox, and Mary could whip up the occasional meal. (Harriet was hopeless as a cook and had once started a fire attempting to make toast.) Other times they’d go out to one of the many little cafés in the area where they were becoming steadily known to the point where they could address a number of servers by name.

Occasionally, Mary and Harriet would quarrel over money; the latter did not see why the former insisted on paying her share of the groceries and rent.

“It really isn’t necessary,” Harriet would protest.

“Oh yes, it is,” Mary insisted. “If nothing else to help maintain appearances.” Nor, much to Harriet’s frustration, would Mary allow her to buy her expensive things. But otherwise, theirs was a life of domestic tranquility. For the sake of appearances, they had picked a place with two bedrooms, but in practice only one was ever used. In the early stages of their relationship, there had been considerable confusion, excitement, and laughter in determining how to make their bodies fit together well. Fortunately, Mary had many years’ experience in such matters and had been more than happy to put her knowledge at Harriet’s disposal. The latter had proven a most adept pupil, and together they had achieved new heights of sapphic pleasures. To Mary, it seemed for a time the two of them had created their own little Garden of Eden.

Then came the summons from Mrs. Diana Allenby.

It arrived in a thick blue envelope. A formal engraved document in beautiful calligraphic script addressed to Miss Harriet West. Requesting the pleasure of Harriet’s company at a country house party at Bayard Lodge, held by Mrs. Diana Allenby on the final weekend in August. She was asked to RSVP at once.

‘Well, surely you can just tell them you can’t attend,” Mary reasoned when Harriet handed her the invitation. “You’ve done it before!” For although Harriet had the perfect excuse for not going out, people still invited her. The people in question were to Harriet’s mind a load of vultures who just wanted an excuse to revel in last winter’s scandal. She’d taken grim satisfaction in turning them all down. This, however, was a different thing entirely.

“You don’t understand,” Harriet told her. “Read this.” She passed over a handwritten letter that had been included with the invitation, and Mary dutifully read aloud.

My beloved goddaughter,

At that, Mary looked up. “Wait, is she really your godmother?”

“She is,” Harriet confirmed.

“And I haven’t heard of her?” Mary wondered.

“Well, she stays at her own place most of the time,” Harriet explained, “and I haven’t been down there for ages. But I’ve known her all my life. She and Mother were very close. Indeed, for many years I called her Auntie Di.”

At this Mary involuntarily bit her lip. Given the familial relationship, it would be far harder for Harriet to bung off Mrs. Allenby the way she did others.

I’ve heard you’ve quite dropped out of society these past nine months. Now after all you’ve been through, my poor child, I certainly don’t blame you for wanting your space. But I do worry about you. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you last! As you know, your late mother was like a sister to me, and I have always considered you family as well. And I worry about you, my child. I truly do. It cannot be healthy for you to hide yourself away from the world like some cloistered nun of old.

This, thought Mary, was stretching things a bit. Living in a very nice city flat with a roommate and a cat was hardly a hermitage. Nor did Harriet’s situation with Mary truly resemble that of anything allowed in a convent. At least not any convent Mary had ever heard of! Though, really, who knew what went on behind closed doors? And as Mary knew full well, there was more than one reason for a woman to voluntarily swear off the company of men. It would be an interesting area for ecumenical investigation. She didn’t get the chance to share these musings with Harriet, though, as the latter continued to read aloud.

Which is why, my dear, it would mean so much to me for you to attend this outing. I’ve deliberately kept it to a smaller gathering, and you already know the Florrys.

“Who are the Florrys?” Mary wondered aloud.

“Raymond and Rachel Florry,” Harriet responded. “Raymond works in London at some big banking firm. I’ve seen him at other gatherings, but the one I’m really familiar with is his wife, Rachel. She and I were schoolmates together, along with her cousin Lily.” She paused momentarily as if uncomfortable. “Actually, Lily was with Raymond first. They were even engaged. But then Raymond broke things off at the last minute. Practically left her at the altar. And not long after he started being seen publicly with Rachel. Which of course led to people wondering if something hadn’t happened between him and Rachel while he was still with Lily.”

“Oh my,” Mary commented. “So, Rachel stole her cousin’s fiancé?”

“Apparently. It was quite the scandal at the time. They say Lily had a complete breakdown and hasn’t spoken to either one of them since. Anyway, Rachel and Raymond just got married this past March. I haven’t seen her in ages either.” Harriet looked sad at the thought as Mary read on.

And some other young people as well. The fresh air will do you good and the new cook is superb! And you know there’s not a more beautiful place in England to come visit in autumn than here!

“Well, that’s quite a boast,” Mary observed.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Born and raised in Pittsburgh, the Carnegie Library in Oakland was always my second home. I was diagnosed as being a high functioning autistic in college. I hold a useless double major in English literature and creative writing. I’ve worked at nonprofit agencies, in food service, and most recently as a dog-walker/petsitter but the siren song of writing keeps pulling me back into its dark grip. I have co-authored a book on women in the US Senate with Billy Herzig, self-published The Dog-Walking Diaries, and in 2020 my first novel Sarah Crow was published by One Idea Press. I live in my hometown Pittsburgh with my better half, Smoky the Cat. Find Winnie on Facebook.

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