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Title: If I Were Fire
Author: Heloise West
Published by : Dreamspinner
Pages/Word Count: 59 pages
Genre: Historical M/M
Available: Now
Buy Links:
Dreamspinner ~ Amazon UK ~ Amazon US ~ B&N ~ Kobo ~ Google Play ~ All Romance

If I Were Fire

Blurb:

In 18th century Siena, Count Salvesto Masello returns home to find the family villa and his father’s estate deeply in debt. In order to save it, he sells valuable heirlooms, but he is running out of silverware. Somewhere in the villa, his deceased father has hidden the art treasures that will pay the debt—but Salvesto can’t find them anywhere.

Amadeo Neruccio has been on the run from the vicious pimp, thief, and pawnbroker Guelfetto, whose toughs finally catch him and bring him to the cellar where Count Masello is selling off his silver. When the count learns what fate Guelfetto has in store for Amadeo, he intervenes, and trades the last of his mother’s dowry for the young man’s freedom.

Salvesto left home over ten years ago to live the life of adventure he craved and leave his broken heart behind. When he rescues Amadeo, he does not expect to find love again—or the start of his next adventure.

I need to do a bit of personal disclosure here. I was lucky enough to be asked to beta If I Were Fire and counted myself privileged to be able to do so. Part of the background to the story is the annual street horse race in Siena – the Palio – and I have adored it since I was small.

The Palio is one of those hangovers from waaaaay back where it has been decided that if something works there’s not much point in changing it. Every year in August the race is run – a source of vicious rivalry between the sponsoring districts of Siena. In years past horses and jockeys have been nobbled and it’s still quite common for there to be blatant interference on the course. But for the uninvolved observer the spectacle is the joy. The dressing of the streets, the men in armour, the synchronised flag juggling of strong young men in high medieval costume, the glossy slenderness of the horses, the bulky power of their garishly dressed jockeys. Fantastic. And now it’s all on Youtube. Here’s a sample:

Excerpt:

Everyone knew everyone’s business in the small hilly honeycomb town of Siena. The house the Masello had once occupied for short periods during the year belonged to a rich merchant now. The eldest Masello had died in a hunting accident in the countryside, and his father, it was said, died of grief a year later. This event had brought the new conte home to the villa with the leaky roof, the broken-backed barn, and massive debt. Yet perhaps Conte Masello was not as bad off as they said, for he had paid Amadeo’s debt to Guelfetto.

Likely Amadeo was wrong about that, too, as the conte had traded for his freedom with silver dishes and spoons. Amadeo swallowed hard but could not dislodge the lump in his throat, a combination of gratitude and resentment. Life in a Florentine bathhouse and sexual slavery to the traditional enemies of Siena was no life at all. He shuddered. He had meant it about throwing himself on the tender mercy of the river.

What kind of master was the new Conte Masello? He glanced at the man beside him and found warm hazel eyes gazing down at him. His new master’s hair was as brown as chestnuts and touched with gray strands. Whatever he’d been doing while the family fortunes dwindled—soldiering, sailing, perhaps even tramping about in the New World—had made him a man with a face weathered by the sun and muscles that strained the seams of his fine clothes. He was broad-shouldered and a forearm’s length taller than Amadeo, who felt like a willow tree beside such an oak.

“We have another stop to make,” the conte whispered. “Finish your prayers.”

The hard press of the conte’s velvet-clad shoulder and the intimacy of his warm breath on Amadeo’s neck sent a small shock through him, and his cock stirred restlessly in response.

Oh no, you don’t. You are not to ruin this chance for me either. Pardon me, dear Saint Catherine. I pledge to you I will stay away from the gaming tables and this man’s bed.

Don’t forget to sign up for the Rafflecopter giveaway to win one of three copes of If I Were Fire.

Where You Can Find Heloise:

Dreamspinner: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/AuthorArcade/heloise-west

Blog: https://velvetpanic2.wordpress.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/heloise.west.1

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/heloisewest/

Email: heloisewest@hotmail.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/velvetpanic

Tumblr: http://heloisewest.tumblr.com/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8188216.Heloise_West

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Title: Purpose
Author: Andrew Q Gordon
Publisher: DSP Publications
Release Date: 6 October
Edition: Second (Re-written, re-edited, new cover)
Genre: Paranormal, Gay Fiction

Purpose

Blurb:

2nd Edition

Forty years ago the Spirit of Vengeance—a Purpose—took William Morgan as its host, demanding he avenge the innocent by killing the guilty. Since then Will has retreated behind Gar, a façade he uses to avoid dealing with what he’s become. Cold, impassive, and devoid of emotion, Gar goes about his life alone—until his tidy, orderly world is upended when he meets Ryan, a broken young man cast out by his family. Spurred to action for reasons he can’t understand, Gar saves Ryan from death and finds himself confronted by his humanity.

Spending time with Ryan helps Will claw out from under Gar’s shadow. He recognizes Ryan is the key to his reclaiming his humanity and facing his past. As Will struggles to control the Purpose, Ryan challenges him to rethink everything he knew about himself and the spirit that possesses him. In the process, he pushes Will to do something he hasn’t done in decades: care.
1st Edition published by Dreamspinner Press, June 2013.

Buy Links:

DSP Publications ~ Amazon US ~ Amazon UK
Omnilit ~ Barnes & Noble

Video Trailer:

Excerpt:

As they walked up the stairs, Gar’s mind demanded to know why he’d talked to this total stranger. Long ago he’d given up on trying to meet people. Love was hollow, meaningless. He couldn’t share who he was or what he did, so why get involved, only to see them leave?

More inexplicable, the kid was smiling as if he enjoyed Gar’s company. But Gar knew there was nothing likable about him anymore. Dour, quiet, brusque, and blank were words that described him. He purposely kept his demeanor guarded and gruff to keep people away. Yet he was walking with “him” to the upper platform. Not “him,” Gar kept reminding himself. The kid is not David.

David had been tall and Mediterranean, an Italian boy from South Philly. Back when Gar still felt passion, that was his type. An athlete, David was, in a word, amazing. He turned heads when he walked into a room, but it was his eyes, those beautiful brown eyes, that held Gar’s soul.

The kid was average, unremarkable, though not unattractive. But he had David’s eyes. More than once, Gar looked at them and swore they were the same, as if someone had preserved David’s and given them to him. Him? Gar didn’t even know his name.

His step faltered for a moment as he realized he was thinking about the life he’d abandoned all those years ago. How long had it been since he’d thought of David, remembered how it felt to be with him?

Quietly, they waited on the semicrowded platform. A couple of hours before midnight, and the crowds were starting to head north to the city’s nightlife. Mostly young professionals, but Gar noted the thugs mixed in. They were not going for the music and booze but to prey on those who indulged too much in both.

The Red Line arrived. Almost full, now that the small crowd got on with them. Fortune smiled on them as they found an empty pair of seats.

“At the risk of being rude…,” the kid started, but his confidence faded. When Gar nodded, he continued. “What’s your name?”

“Gar.” It wasn’t his real name. Who named their kid Gar?

“Gar?” His confused look quickly switched to embarrassment.

“Family name,” Gar said. His predecessors were his only family, in a twisted way. The last dozen or so “hosts” had used it, so when he abandoned his old life, he started to use it too. “Yours?”

“Ryan.”

Gar detected a note of hesitancy. His words weren’t a lie, but something more was there. When Ryan’s hand crept closer to Gar’s leg, he understood.

Rather than let things go where it seemed they might, Gar changed topics. “Are you hungry?” He knew Ryan was, but would he admit it? “I need to get something to eat. I could use the company. My treat for keeping someone as scary-looking as me company.”

This time, Ryan laughed a real laugh. It made him less broken. “Um… well….”

Ryan was hungry and scared. No doubt, if Gar read his mind, he would find he had almost no money. He was desperate enough that he was going to that part of town to find “work.” A flash of anger filled him. Anger? When he bit down on it, he realized it felt like David was sitting there talking about it.

“Seriously, no strings. Order what you want. I’ll pay.” Checking to see if anyone could see, Gar pulled out a thick wad of bills he had taken from the guilty. “I just got paid.”

At the sight of the money, Ryan’s eyes got slightly wider. Whether he knew it or not, Ryan licked his lips. The small reaction made Gar laugh, enough for Ryan to realize what he’d done.

“I’m sorry,” he stammered, refusing to look over. “Thanks, I’m fine.”

Cursing his lack of social skills, Gar grabbed the first bundle of bills he found in his coat pocket. “Here.” He took Ryan’s hand and shoved the money into his palm. “Don’t sell yourself tonight.”

Giveaway:

Click on the graphic to the right for a chance to win one of the following:

First Prize: $25 Giftcard to Dreamspinner Press
Second Prize: Autographed Paperback copy of Purpose

The tour organizer will select a winner from entries received as of close of business 21 October. Be sure to leave a thoughtful comment on each stop on the tour for additional chances to win.

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/bab986586/

Tour Schedule

6 Oct – Elin Gregory and Jessie G Books
7 Oct – Divine Magazine
8 Oct – Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words
9 Oct – Hearts on Fire Reviews and MM Good Book Reviews
10 Oct – Author Susan Mac Nicol and Wake Up Your Wild Side
11 Oct – The Purple Rose Tea House
12 Oct – Love Bytes Reviews and Queer Sci Fi
13 Oct – World of Diversity Fiction
14 Oct – Prism Book Alliance
15 Oct – Diverse Reader
16 Oct – Loving Without Limits
17 Oct – Fangirl Moments and My Two Cents
18 Oct – BFD Book Blog
18 Oct – Wicked Faeries Tales and Reviews
19 Oct – Molly Lolly
20 Oct – Drops of Ink

Author Bio

Andrew Q. Gordon wrote his first story back when yellow legal pads and ball point pens were common and a Smith Corona correctable typewriter was considered high tech. Adapting to the times, he now writes with a shiny new MacBook that he sets on the same desk as his manual typewriter and vintage adding machine.
Long a fan of super heroes, wizards and sports, Andrew’s works include high fantasy, paranormal spirits, magic as well as contemporary fiction. He is still trying to find the perfect story that will include all his favorites under one cover.
He currently lives in the Washington, D.C. area with his husband, their young daughter and dog. In addition to dodging some very self-important D.C. ‘insiders’, Andrew uses his commute to catch up on his reading. When not working or writing, he enjoys soccer, high fantasy, baseball and occasionally sleeping.

THE LAND OF MAKE BELIEVE: http://andrewqgordon.com/
FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/dominic.andrews.7568

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Title: Into theTeam
Author: Rob Damon
Publisher: CoolDudes Publishing
Genre: New Adult Romance
Length: 216 Pages
Available from: Amazon US ~ CoolDudes Publishing ~ Amazon UK

Blurb:

To honor his father, young footballer Todd Mackerson commits to his goal of playing for a professional team. When, at the age of 20, he is offered a place to train with one of England’s biggest clubs, he leaves home convinced his dream is within reach.

Being warned by his new team mates of the tough rules and hard training routines, Todd is undeterred. But when he discovers that the player’s way of bonding borders on the sexual, and that he must learn to accept the erotic affections that connect the team together, he wonders how far he can go for his dream.

But, after experiencing the care and attention men can give to each other, Todd feels awakened. Learning that each player has a special “partner” on the team, who they play and bond with as intimately as lovers, Todd becomes fascinated with the idea.

And when he develops feelings for one player in particular, he discovers how a stronger kind of romance – that between two men – can be pure and powerful enough to bring magic and success on the pitch.

Explicit Excerpt: (more…)

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Since the first in Anna’s Shield series – Gyrfalcon – is one of my favourite reads so far this year, I’m tickled to death that the sequel is released today [and plan to be reading it, right now] and am equally tickled to be hosting a guest post from the author and details of her forthcoming blog tour with some spectacular prizes!

Welcome Anna!

~

I’m delighted to be here today to tell you a little about Heart Scarab, the second book in the Taking Shield series.

The series charts the life and loves of Shield Captain Bennet, who has an exciting job in the Shield Regiment infiltrating enemy bases and leading raids into enemy space. Bennet is from Albion, the last known colony of Earth, and humanity is fighting a war to the death against an alien race it has never even seen. All the humans ever come across are fighter drones, cyborgs animated by a small cluster of neural cells.

In the first book of the series, Bennet commandeered his father’s dreadnought, Gyrfalcon, for a behind-the-lines mission to gain priceless intelligence about their enemy, the Maess. Bennet got the data he was sent for, and he also got Fleet Lieutenant Flynn—an encounter that has turned his life upside down. But Bennet and Flynn parted at the end of Gyrfalcon, never expecting to meet again…

About Heart Scarab

In Heart Scarab, set more than a year and a half after Gyrfalcon, Bennet’s Shield unit is evacuating a colony in imminent danger of being overrun by the Maess. Telnos is an unpleasant little planet, inhabited by religious fanatics in the festering marshlands and unregistered miners running illegal solactinium mines up in the hills. But the Maess want Telnos, and Shield Captain Bennet’s job is to get out as many civilians as he can. The enemy arrives before the evacuation is complete. Caught in a vicious fire fight, Bennet is left behind, presumed dead.

His family is grieving. Joss, his long-term partner, grieves with them; lost, unhappy, remorseful. First Lieutenant Flynn has no official ‘rights’ here. He isn’t family. He isn’t partner or lover.

All he is, is broken.


Heart Scarab by Anna Butler
Published: Wilde City Press, 22 July 2015
c 98,400 words

Excerpt

Flynn liked kissing. In fact, Flynn considered himself something of an expert in the art. He’d tried it in all its forms, from the first tentative pressing together of juvenile lips that had you wondering what all the fuss was about, to the discovery that if you just opened your mouth and, you know, kind of moved everything, your tongue suddenly had a lot more positive uses than just allowing you to articulate clearly and swallow things without choking. Flynn got the hang of it, ran with it, and never looked back.

Soft kisses and hard kisses; kisses that were wet and slobbery with people who didn’t know exactly how to hold their lips to get the best and sexiest effect, and wet and sexy kisses with people who did. Kisses that turned the blood to molten lava and kisses that cooled you as you came down. Kisses that inflamed and kisses that soothed; feverish kisses and languid after-sex kisses. Kisses that meant only good fellowship and casual affection, and kisses that were desire incarnate.

Flynn had not only tried them all, he’d made them his own. He was considered by all the relevant authorities to be rather a specialist in the area.

Flynn really liked kissing. He had been gratified by the discovery that Bennet liked it too. Because now he could add slow kisses to the repertoire. Kisses so leisured and intense the world came to a stop while a hot tongue moved over his lips, explored each and every tooth down to the last molar, while teeth pulled at his bottom lip, biting it gently until it was swollen and hot and heavy, and he had to lick his lip to cool it and met Bennet’s tongue with his. Only then, would Bennet’s mouth close over his and start a real in-earnest kiss that lasted several more centuries. Those were kisses Bennet seemed to specialise in.

Flynn was always willing to take tips from another expert. A man should always try to extend his technique.

Buy Links
Initially, from Wilde City Press as an ebook (the paperback will follow)

By mid August, from an Amazon near you (Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk links)

Giveaways
Comment here and win an ebook version of FlashWired, a gay mainstream sci-fi novella. [Elin: I’ve read it – it’s a cracker!]

Follow Anna’s promotional tour with Pride Promotions, just click on the graphic below, and you can win Rafflecopter prizes of a $50 Amazon giftcard, or your choice of a Heart Scarab iPad case or Kindle case, or a Gyrfalcon iPad case.

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AboutTheBook

Un-Deniable jpgTitle: Un-Deniable

Series: Left At The Crossroads #3

Author: Lisa Worrall

Cover Artist: Meredith Russell

Length: 45,000 words

Release Date: June 29, 2015

Blurb: Little Mowbury is a sleepy English village deep in the Cotswolds. The kind of village where you’re only a local if your lineage can be traced back to the dinosaurs. Where you can find everything in the single village shop from morning newspapers to dry-cleaning, and getting your shoes mended. And, of course, where everybody knows everybody else’s business. It’s easy to find… you can’t miss it… just ask anyone and they’ll tell you… “It’s left at the crossroads.”

Oliver Bradford has had enough of the hustle and bustle of the A&E department in a big city hospital. Not to mention the tension caused by the break-up of his three year relationship with one of the hospital’s top surgeons. When his sister urges him to apply for the position of GP in the quiet village of Little Mowbury, he wonders if this might be just the fresh start he needs. Unfortunately, hitting the post-mistresses’ dog with his car isn’t the best introduction to his patients.

A solitary soul, Deano Wells grew up in Little Mowbury and has been having lunch at the Thatcher’s Arms on a Thursday for the last thirty-five years. First with his father, who brought him to the pub at the tender age of ten after a hard morning in the fields, and then by himself after his father passed on. He runs the farm with a practised hand and minds his business mostly, but that doesn’t stop Oliver from being drawn to the big, quiet man and he knows the feeling is mutual, so why does Deano keep pushing him away?

CommonExcerpt

Oliver put his hand on Hugo’s soft head and leaned in closer. “How’re you doing,

mate?” He kept his voice low in the hope of distracting him while Big and Tall tried to

discern whether anything was broken. When he was rewarded with a wet lick to his nose, he

smiled gratefully. “I know it hurts, but we’re gonna fix you right up. Before you know it

you’ll be chasing sheep and frightening the crap out of drivers everywhere.” Hugo

whimpered and Oliver pressed his lips to Hugo’s fur. “It’s okay, mate, ssh, it’s okay.”

“Nothing’s broke as far as I can tell.”

Oliver looked up at Big and Tall, keeping his cheek on Hugo’s head. “Is he going to

be alright?”

“He needs some stitching and an x-ray or two, I dare say,” Big and Tall replied as he

wandered over the sink to wash his now bloody hands. “I’ll have to take him into Wimborne

for the vet to check him over.”

“I’ll come with—”

“Where’s my boy?” The shrill cry and the slamming open of the kitchen door

coincided, and Oliver wasn’t sure which one was the loudest. A woman, who had to be in her

mid-sixties, practically sprinted towards them. She shoved Oliver out of the way and took

Hugo’s head in her hands. His tail thumped weakly as she rained kisses on his face. “Deano?”

She looked at Big and Tall for information.

“He’s got some cuts and bruises, Doris,” Big and Tall replied. “I don’t think

anything’s broke. But we’ll take him into Wimborne to Maguire to make sure.” He patted

Doris on the shoulder.

Oliver couldn’t help but notice the size of the man’s hand on the older woman’s

smaller frame, and for the first time he took a good look at his knight in… well… mud

splattered jeans. Big and Tall, or rather, Deano, had to be at least six-five in his stocking feet.

He was broad shouldered, muscular and Oliver had trouble dragging his gaze away from

Deano’s big forearms, which were covered in dark hair. His hair was light brown, flecked

with golden highlights and a sprinkling of grey, cut short at the back and sides, left slightly

longer on the top so it swept across his forehead. His cheeks and chin were covered with light

stubble and his brown eyes were surrounded by thick, dark lashes. Oliver’s gaze dropped to

his mouth which was—

“You!” Oliver blinked as Doris turned her wrath on him. “Was it you? In your big

city car? Were you even looking where you were going? Or were you too busy doing your

hair in the rear view mirror? What kind of monster are you?” Her voice rose on each sentence

and by the time she’d finished Oliver could have sworn the glassware in the kitchen had

begun to vibrate.

“I’m-I’m—”

“A fuckin’ twat?” Doris interjected. “I couldn’t agree more!”

“Now, now Doris,” Maggie stepped between them, which Oliver found unnerving.

Was she saving him from being beaten to death by someone only a few years younger than

his Gran? By the look on Doris’ face, he was rather glad of Maggie’s presence. “It was an

accident, that’s all.” She looked at Deano over the top of Doris’ head. “I think you should get

Hugo to Maguire’s and get the poor lamb sorted out, don’t you?” Deano took the hint.

“Yep, I reckon that’s best.” He picked Hugo up as gently as he could. “Come on,

Doris, you can ride in the back with him.”

Maggie patted Deano’s arm as he passed, Doris hot on his heels. “Let us know what

Maguire says,” she said and urged him towards the door.

Doris paused at the door and turned to glare at Oliver. She raised her hand and

pointed at him, jabbing the air for emphasis. “This isn’t over, city boy. I’ll be seeing you

again.”

Buy Links

AMAZON US

AMAZON UK

ALL ROMANCE eBOOKS

AboutTheAuthor

I live in Southend-on-Sea, a small seaside town just outside London on the South East coast of Essex, England that boasts the longest pier in the world; where I am ordered around by two precocious children and a dog who thinks she’s the boss of me. I’ve been writing seriously for three years now and love giving voice to the characters warring to be heard in my head, and am currently petitioning for more hours in the day, because I never seem to have enough of them.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lisa.worrallauthor

Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/295176367326040/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Lisa_Worrall

Google+: https://plus.google.com/101894831911797620850

Blog: http://lworrall.blogspot.in/

RafflecopterGiveaway
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TourSchedule

June 29:

Elisa – My reviews and Ramblings

My Fiction Nook

June 30:

Rainbow Gold Reviews

Amanda C. Stone

July 1:

Bike Book Reviews

Prism Book Alliance

July 2:

Diverse Reader

Hearts on Fire

July 3:

MM Good Book Reviews

The Novel Approach

July 6:

RJ Scott

Love Bytes Reviews

July 7:

A Celebration of Books

Love.Imperfect.Real.

July 8:

Gay Media Reviews

Loving Without Limits

July 9:

Bayou Book Junkie

Drops of Ink

July 10:

BFD Book Blog

Sid Love Writes

July 13:

Man2ManTastic

Molly Lolly: Reader, Reviewer, Lover of Words

July 14:

Elin Gregory

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Author Name: Jay Northcote

Book Name: Helping Hand  

Release Date: June 26, 2015

Publisher: Jaybird Press

Cover Artist: Garrett Leigh

Pages or Words:  Approximately 33,000 words 

Categories: Contemporary, Romance

Blurb:

Wanking with a mate isn’t gay—as long as you keep your hands to yourself.

Jez Fielding and James MacKenzie—Big Mac to his mates—are in their second year at uni. After partying too hard last year, they make a pact to rein themselves in. While their housemates are out drinking every weekend, Jez and Mac stay in to save cash and focus on their studies.

When Jez suggests watching some porn together, he isn’t expecting Mac to agree to it. One thing leads to another, and soon their arrangement becomes hands-on rather than hands-off. But falling for your straight friend can only end badly, unless there’s a chance he might feel the same.

Buy Links:
Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon Canada | Amazon Germany
All Romance Ebooks | Smashwords

Excerpt:

Afterwards, Jez blamed the alcohol for loosening his tongue, because he didn’t think about it before he spoke. The words tumbled out before he could stop them.

“Man, I’m seriously horny now. Have you got any decent porn on that laptop?”

“Huh?” Mac snapped his head around to meet Jez’s gaze. Jez’s heart pounded erratically, but his dick was still standing to attention. “What… you mean, you want to wank in here? Now? Wouldn’t that be weird?” Mac sounded seriously freaked out.

Jez backtracked quickly, cheeks hot. “It doesn’t have to be weird. I’ve done it before with guys at school, and it’s never been a big deal. But don’t worry about it. I’ll go and watch my own stash instead. But I need something soon, ’cause I’m gonna explode after watching that sex scene.”

Jez was expecting an instant no from Mac. He wouldn’t have blamed him. A lot of guys wouldn’t be into what Jez was suggesting. Jez’s heart still thumped hard, but his arousal didn’t abate despite his anxiety. He was shocked by how much he wanted this.

Mac bit his lip and frowned. “Seriously. You’ve done that?”

Jez shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “Yeah. Like I said, it was no big deal. Just guys messing around.”

Mac stared a moment longer, then he stood, and Jez’s heart sank as he walked away. But Mac only went to fetch his laptop from the dining table. He sat back down and then opened it and tapped in his password.

“What sort of stuff do you wanna watch?” Mac’s voice was gruff and he focused on the screen rather than Jez.

Fuck. They were really going to do this, then.

 

Sales Links: not yet available but watch the author’s website.

 About the author:

Jay lives just outside Bristol in the West of England, with her husband, two children, and two cats.

She comes from a family of writers, but she always used to believe that the gene for fiction writing had passed her by. She spent years only ever writing emails, articles, or website content. One day, she decided to try and write a short story–just to see if she could–and found it rather addictive. She hasn’t stopped writing since.

Where to find the author:

www.jaynorthcote.com | Twitter | Facebook profile | Facebook Author Page | Jay’s books

Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7302303.Jay_Northcote


Tour Dates & Stops: June 26, 2015

Parker Williams, BFD Book Blog, Bayou Book Junkie, Elisa – My Reviews and Ramblings, My Fiction Nook, Prism Book Alliance, Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words, Inked Rainbow Reads, Havan Fellows, Cate Ashwood, Two Chicks Obsessed With Books and Eye Candy, Charley Descoteaux, Chris McHart, Happily Ever Chapter, Boys on the Brink Reviews, Molly Lolly, Rainbow Gold Reviews, Nic Starr, Elin Gregory, Dawn’s Reading Nook, Fangirl Moments and My Two Cents, MM Good Book Reviews, Wake Up Your Wild Side, Hearts on Fire, 3 Chicks After Dark, Carly’s Book Reviews, Wicked Faerie’s Tales and Reviews, Iyana Jenna, Divine Magazine, Mikky’s World of Books, Foxylutely Book Reviews, Velvet Panic, The Hat Party, Andrew Q. Gordon

Don’t forget to enter the contest for a chance to win a prize: $10 Amazon card + backlist book of choice. CLICK HERE TO ENTER the Rafflecopter giveaway or click on the graphic below.

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comfy chair

My guest today is new-to-me author Rodd Clark whose latest novel Rubble and the Wreckage has one of the most startling covers I’ve ever seen. A huge fan of the edgier type of crime fiction, Rodd has given the genre his own particular twist.

Welcome, Rodd and thank you for answering my questions.

~

What are you reading? Can you recommend something that you wished you’d written yourself?

I have less time to read now than I’d prefer but there are great stories out there I wished I could have penned myself, such as the wonderfully written “The Gaslight Mysteries” by Erin O’Quinn.  She seems to revel in the bawdy adventure I’d love to call my own.  And I enjoy coming across great writers like Allen Renfro and Lee Thomas.  But the genres I relish are simply exploding with great talent these days.  And it is because of those guys that I feel myself bolster with pride whenever I call myself a writer.

In that crucial inspiration stage of a new story which comes first? Plot, situation or character?

Plot is imperative with every novel, but without the proper character build-up, nothing else really matters.  You have to have heroes which readers want to root for and villains that make you cringe in terror.  But it is nice to know that every single one of us could find ourselves inside situations that we never thought possible.  And that is what makes the story interesting for me.

Do your characters arrive fully fledged and ready to fly or do they develop as you work with them? Do you have a crisp mental picture of them or are they more a thought and a feeling than an image? 

     Excellent question, in my first mystery series I birthed a main character who I thought I’d enjoy exploring to the limit and his name was Brantley Colton.  I enjoyed him enough to carry his story throughout three books.   And at the time I suspected he was the epitome of that perfectly flawed, anti-hero type I wanted to delve into.  But that was before the creation of Gabriel Church, and the books which will expose his life and trials.  Now I fully understand what a twisted, anti-hero is, from meeting him face to face in my writings.  And though I suppose my attraction to the morally ambiguous, and bent and corrupted characters may be obvious to some, I have to confess the seed always existed somewhere.  It just required a good watering.

Is there any genre you would love to write, ditto one you would avoid like a rattlesnake? What inspired you to write about serial killers?

I have to wonder about anyone who writes about serial killers, but I have to admit to having an interest in the subject from an earlier project and became fascinated with how it speaks to the dark, untapped recesses in those readers I wish to call my fans.  In my latest book, “Rubble and the Wreckage”, there was no shortage of morality questions to address and I liked when it left some questioning their own belief-system by the simple examination of it.  On the other hand, there are genres I steer clear of, such as hardcore erotica.  I profess to only knowing a few ways of describing the male genitalia and the word “Turgid” is heavily over-rated and borders on comical inaccuracy.  It is a phrase which sends shivers racing down my spine, and not in a good way.

I can't say it does much for me either

I can’t say it does much for me either

Do you find there to be a lot of structural differences between a relationship driven story and one where the romance is a sub plot? 

I can only speak to the character driven stories I write myself, but I’m always searching for that glittery vein I can mine with hopes I am guaranteed even the smallest modicum of a return.  One I can then share with my readers during our journey together.  But honestly I feel that romance should be propelled forward because of the relationship, and not just the heat of the moment.  Anything less for me and it displays like some sad sexual tryst, void of any substance or love and where the only gifts remaining are the discarded twenties lying in wait on the nightstand.

Put together your ideal team of men/women drawing from all and any walks of life, fictional or non-fictional who you would want to come to your rescue if menaced by muggers/alligators/fundamentalists?

Now this is a truly entertaining question, and I’d have to say that I would call upon one of the characters from one of my books.  Reason being; they wouldn’t be afraid to make the hard choices and wouldn’t consider the legal or moral ramifications to pushing back against my aggressors, or tangling toe-to-toe with them if the situation required it.  We all know that you don’t call a boy scout when facing down a tough opponent.  You call someone like Gabriel Church or Brantley Colton, and then hope they’re willing and able to skirmish on your behalf.

Villains are incredibly important in fiction since they challenge the main protagonists and give them something to contend with beyond the tension of a developing relationship. The cruel sea. The serial killer. The society itself. Your hero’s inner demons. What sort of villains do you prize?

          There is very little black and white in my world of fiction and I rarely see anyone truly villainous.  But with that being said, some of my characters admittedly have dark hearts.  Few are shown as anything close to being pristine or possessing that angelic quality.  Sadly all of them are mere branches originating from my own crooked tree, and for me that’s because anyone worth spending the time necessary to write about, is almost always going to be a tad complex or mentally and morally strained…possibly even being pockmarked from some hideously tragic birth.  Because the fun for me is delving deep enough to fully see the scars.

What are you working on at the moment? Can you discuss it or do you prefer to keep it a secret until it’s finished.

Currently I am in the middle of editing the sequel to “Rubble and the Wreckage”, which is titled “Behold a Pale Rider”.  I hope to see its release later in the year and it should uncover more of the complex relationships between my anti-hero protagonist Gabriel Church, and the intriguing yet oddly relatable, Christian Maxwell.  I am also hard at work on the third, and dare I say it, the final chapter in the twisted tale of death and affection which has become the stories occupying my brain of late.  Sorry to say though readers will have to wait to see how that tale finally unfolds.

 Could we please have an excerpt of something?

Rubble and the Wreckage

“Tell me your story.” Christian Maxwell began, wetting his lips and leaning in. He stared at the killer across the table and rested his forearms on the notepad before him. His look was imploring, he was begging for good and gory details.

Gabe stared at him glassy eyed and with anticipation. He was all but squinting with excitement, of all that was to follow. He had a somewhat wanting expression on his face. Gabe had seen that look many times before. “Better the devil you barely know.” Gabe thought. “If someone else’s gonna be making money off my story it might as well be this guy.” He remembered the first time the thought of telling his story had first sprung to mind. The memories of it much like this, detached, more after-thought than close consideration.

“Ever been out to the Florida Keys?” Gabe asked. When he only received a nod from Maxwell to his question he continued absently, “For me it was like driving to the keys, a few miles over the speed limit on that old Highway One…you know, the one they called Highway out to Sea…under fleecy clouds with that fresh coastal winds slapping you in your face, under a vast, unending blue on blue…it is rather freeing.” His hands wrapped around the old dusty cover of the book he was holding, more as an effect than something to read.

Christian listened to him speaking with that far-away gaze in his eyes, knowing he was already back there in his mind. He pretended to jot notes down but concentrated more on that distant expression on Church’s face. Sitting so close to him, he could almost feel the wind slapping his hair, the sun beating down as he rode in the passenger seat of Church’s mental trip along Highway 1. He knew it was going to be a good book when he finished it.

He didn’t want to interrupt the narrator but he couldn’t resist,

“But it didn’t begin in Florida did it? I just presumed it happened elsewhere.”

The killer’s posture changed as he replied. He sat up straight in the chair, his eyes narrowed, “If you think you know where it started then why are we sitting around hashing old news?” The killer’s voice was cold. Dampness built under Christian’s armpits.

“Because no one has ever asked you for your side of it, usually a serial murderer doesn’t get a chance to explain why he kills. But I…” pointing to his own chest, “…I want to give you that opportunity.”

“Well that’s mighty big of you.” Gabe leaned back in his chair and smiled a grin that could cut through glass, his mocking words and expressive eyes said it all: this might just prove to be an interesting way to spend his free time. He rubbed his rough forefinger across the lip of the wine glass as a carnal abstraction as he watched Maxwell jot his notes, even though they hadn’t even begun his tale.

“Shouldn’t you wait till I start to speak before you scribble down all those pretty words?”

Christian looked up and smiled sheepishly, “…just mood stuff. You’ll have to get used to that…meaning my process, early on.” He put his pen down and folded his hands neatly to hide his notes. “I’m a little fastidious or obsessive at times.”

“No worries”, he said nodding, “The same has been said of me.”

That bent smile of a killer reappeared and twisted Church’s face into a mocking evil caricature, sending a shiver down Christian’s spine. He smiled back and returned a look that seemed to place them on equal understanding. ‘This was going to be tough’, he thought, ‘but worth it.’ Christian picked up his pen and sent an imploring gaze at his subject of study.

Gabe recognized the untidy anticipation, and reluctantly continued. “Actually it began in Texas…but we need to go back to where the…umm, desires, I guess is the word…first came into clear focus don’t we? I mean you want the full picture don’t you?”

When the man didn’t offer a conciliatory gesture, Gabe continued.

“Before Florida, before Seattle I had been somewhere else… it was a better place for me, because it still held some type of promise, nothing had been carved into stone…if you’ll pardon the pun.” Church’s head lolled back as if he was about to break into a hearty laugh.

He was a dangerous sick man Christian could see that. His reference to the markers of his varied victims, as his nonchalant manner in describing his affinity to murder was unsettling, even for someone as akin to pathology as Christian Maxwell.

In college, his dark sense of humor and an uncomfortably quiet nature was off-putting to most. His so-called friends would jokingly offer that it was going to be Christian who would be famous, but more for the salvo of bullets which hit other students from his safe vantage in some random clock tower or rooftop. The look on Maxwell’s face as he sat across from Gabe was pensive as if he was about to interrupt again but questioned the insolence. The killer had nothing but time, but he didn’t like breaking his train of thought so early.

~

 Rubble and the Wreckage 

by Rodd Clark

Blurb:

Gabriel Church knows you can’t take a life without first understanding just how feeble life is, how tentative and weak it stands alone. If you desire murder, you hold a life in your hand. Whether you release it to grant life or grip tighter to end it, it is at your command and discretion.

Gabriel is a serial killer with a story he wants told.

Christian Maxwell studied abnormal psychology in college but chose instead to focus on a career in writing. His background comes in handy when he thinks of writing about a serial killer. He can’t think of anyone more qualified to write the story of Gabriel Lee Church, and do so in the murderer’s own words. It’s been done before, but never with a killer who has yet to be captured or convicted.

There was never anything more than a gentleman’s understanding between the two men that Christian would record Gabriel’s life story. The killer did not ask for his complicity in any crimes, nor did he ever ask for his silence. Christian’s interest in the man, though, is fast becoming something more than academic. When the writer and his subject become unexpected friends and then lovers, the question remains: What is Gabriel’s endgame . . . and why does he want his story told?

Buy Links

Driven Press ~ Amazon US ~ Amazon UK
B&N ~ Google Play ~ Kobo ~ Smashwords

You can follow Rodd at these sites:

Website:http://www.roddclark.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/RODDCLARK

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/rodd.clark.96

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7741007.Rodd_Clark
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Rodd-
clark/e/B00KGDSYSQ/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1

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d9af7-disappearwithme2bfull2bsizI am happy to announce that the Second Edition of Disappear With Me is available from Amber Quill Press!

Blurb:

Love is greater than hope or faith, but can Reverend Leander Norris convince a jury that the love he shares with another man is natural?

In 1910, the United Kingdom was in turmoil. King Edward died after only nine years on the throne. The social class system that upheld British society for centuries was being chipped away by social, political, and economic unrest across the Commonwealth. Amidst this backdrop, Reverend Leander Norris is accused of sodomy. After discovering his own self-worth and unconditional love, Leander finds the courage to stand up for what he believes is right and pleads not guilty to the charges. Throughout the trial, Leander’s past is revealed, including the temptations that bring the accusations against him. By the end of the trail, Leander is once again reunited with a romantic interest from the past, but it may be too late to rekindle any love that might remain, given the circumstances of the era and Leander’s likely sentence.

Excerpt:

“Are you not a scholar?” Weeks asked. “Do you not know the Bible that you preach from each Sunday?”

“I know it very well,” Leander answered. “But the Bible has many interpretations. I think you can guess that mine might be a little less than conventional.”

Weeks reclined back in his chair. He made a steeple with his fingers and rested them on his pursed lips. “You’re actually sitting here telling me that, as a man of God, you’re all right with buggery and feel you’ve done nothing wrong?”

“Mr. Weeks, do you realize you keep asking me the same question over again, using different words?”

“As your counsel, I need to be sure that I understand your position, the one you expect me to defend.”

“You sound shocked that I would suggest such a thing. I can’t have you defending me if you don’t believe it yourself.”

“Reverend, my beliefs about the situation are irrelevant; it doesn’t matter what I believe. I need to be able to defend our position in court and hope our defense can refute what the prosecution will present.”

“I have to have conviction in my sermons each Sunday morning. I think you also know you need to have conviction when defending your clients.”

“And I can assure you that I have that same conviction to make sure that you receive a fair trial. I will do my best—”

“Do your best to what? Go through the motions and make sure that the I’s are dotted and the T’s are crossed so it looks like I’ve been given a good defense?”

Weeks didn’t answer and that was all the answer that Leander needed. After a moment, Weeks tried to start again. “Look, Reverend, I am your assigned counsel for this trial. I am on your side. I want to see you get a fair trial, but you must understand what we’re up against is quite overwhelming.”

“I know; I’ve never done anything the simple way.”

“Sir, you must understand that we are going up against laws that are rooted in two thousand years of Christian tradition and about as many years of British attitude.”

“Mr. Weeks, do you love your wife?”

Weeks let out an impatient sigh. “Of course, but here you go asking intimate questions about me that have no bearing on my defending your case.”

“Humor me, sir. Do you love your wife?”

“Yes, I very much love my wife and family.”

“What if you woke up tomorrow and a constable showed up on your doorstep and arrested you because they said the love you share with your wife was illegal?”

Weeks didn’t answer him. Instead, in a quiet voice, he said, “You know you and I are just two people. We’re not going to change these laws overnight.”

Buy Links:

Amber Quill Press

All Romance eBooks

OmniLit

Search “Disappear With Me” or “Dean Pace-Frech” on your other favorite sites to purchase romance books, Amazon, Barnes and Nobles, iTunes, etc.

About Dean Pace-Frech

New bw headshotWith inspiration from historical tourism sites, the love of reading, and a desire to write a novel, Dean started crafting his debut novel, A Place to Call Their Own, in 2008. After four years of writing and polishing the manuscript, it was accepted and originally published 2013. His second novel, Disappear With Me, set in Edwardian England was published later that same year. Both novels were re-released in May 2015.

Dean lives in Kansas City, Missouri with his husband, Thomas (legally as of February 14, 2015), and our two cats. They are involved in their church and enjoy watching movies, outdoor activities in the warmer weather and spending time together with friends and family. In addition to writing, Dean’s hobbies include reading and patio gardening.

Dean is currently working a standalone title, Need Your Love, set in 1966, and The Higher Law, a continuation of the story of Frank and Gregory’s family set in the 1930s.

Connect with Dean Pace-Frech

Email deanfrech@aol.com

Blog:  Dean’s Web Site

Facebook:  Dean Pace-Frech, Author page or send a friend request Dean Pace-Frech.

Twitter: @deanpacefrech

Google+: +deanpacefrech

Goodreads: Dean Pace-Frech

Pinterest:  Dean Pace-Frech

 

Giveaway:

In celebration of the wide release of Disappear With Me, I will be giving away 3 Ecopies of my first novel, A Place to Call Their Own, which is available from JMS Books.  Comment, follow me on Twitter, visit my author page, etc. to enter.

Click here to enter this Rafflecopter giveaway.

 

 

 

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About the Book

Title: Letters From A Cowboy

Series: Morning Report

Author: Sue Brown

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press

Cover Artist: Garrett Leigh

Length: 154 Pages

Release Date: 10 June, 2015

Blurb: A Morning Report Story

Simon Wood arrives at Tamar Ranch looking for a job after being fired from his last position for seducing the boss’s son. It doesn’t take much for him to prove his skills with horses, so he’s taken on, but soon he clashes hard with Chip Henson.

The animosity between them hides something very different, but not for long. No matter how hard they try to resist their attraction, eventually they give in to their need. They start leaving notes for each other, and others notice and warn them to be more careful.

Fearful of discovery, Simon leaves Tamar Ranch to save Chip’s job. When he learns that his departure sent Chip off the rails, he knows he needs to risk everything and go back for him.

Excerpt

HE WAITED an hour by the mill before Chip showed. The cowboy slid off his horse and into Simon’s waiting arms, his hat tumbling off his head as Simon held on to him tightly. Simon pulled him into the shadow of the mill, pleased that he could finally bury his chilly face in Chip’s neck, his nostrils full of the strong, rich scent of his man.

LettersfromaCowboyLG“I thought you weren’t coming,” he managed eventually. “Didn’t know if you’d get my note.”

“I nearly didn’t,” Chip said. “Lorne and Brad were waiting for me with rifles before I left.”

“How did you get away?”

“Lofty and I jumped them and knocked ’em both out before they could shoot me.”

Chip shuddered with the emotion, and Simon hung on even tighter, aware of just how close he’d come to losing him.

“I love you, Henson,” Simon said gruffly, feeling Chip dig his fingers almost painfully into Simon’s back. Simon relished the pain. It reminded him they were both still alive.

“Love you too, Woody.”

Simon huffed into Chip’s neck at the nickname. “Next time we go together.”

Chip pulled back to look at him. “Don’t be stupid. We can’t take that risk.”

“I’m not leaving you again,” Simon insisted stubbornly.

Chip stepped back and slid his hands down Simon’s shoulders to grasp him around the upper arms. “Don’t, Simon. You know we can’t risk anyone finding out about us. I only just escaped this time. Next time it could be you, and I can’t have that.”

Simon stared at Chip, seeing the lines around his brown eyes, carved deeper into Chip’s face in the year he’d known him. “And I’m not gonna to spend my life wondering if you’re goin’ to turn up. We can’t be together as lovers, but we can be together as friends.”

“What are you saying?”

“If keeping us safe means we stop fucking, then….”

Chip pressed his lips together, then gave a short nod. “Friends.”

Simon went to step away, but somehow he ended up with his mouth mashed against Chip’s, his hands tangled in Chip’s hair, and Chip’s erection a rigid line pressing into his hip.

The throaty noises Chip made as they kissed just ramped up his excitement.

Simon growled deep in his throat and pushed Chip against the mill wall. “Fuck, I’ve missed you so much.”

“Missed you too.” Chip hauled Simon down to kiss him again.

“No lube,” Simon groaned.

“Ya got spit.” Chip’s hands were busy at Simon’s flies.

“It’s gonna hurt.” Simon was just as busy, dragging Chip’s jeans down his legs.

“Don’t care, not now. Just want you.” Chip turned in Simon’s arms and placed his hands against the rough wall.

Simon pulled Chip’s ass toward him, bare and beautiful, and all his. He ran his work-roughened hand over the tight asscheek. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Chip laughed roughly. “You need to see the doc, Woody. I ain’t beautiful.”

“You are to me. You’ll always be more beautiful than any of them painted whores in the Drink.”

“Thanks, I think.” Chip gasped as Simon spat on his fingers. “Hurry.”

Simon held Chip’s shoulder and slowly worked his fingers into Chip’s ass. “Just you wait. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He withdrew his fingers and spat on them again. He worked Chip until he was as prepared as he could get him.

Chip smacked the wall as Simon pushed in.

God, he was so tight. Simon wanted to ram in until he couldn’t go any farther, but he wouldn’t hurt Chip. “Too much?”

“Faster,” Chip gritted out. “I’m not gonna break.”

Chip might not, but Simon felt he was about to fly apart at the seams. He sank into Chip’s heat until he could rest against Chip’s back. He breathed across Chip’s ear, feeling the man shiver.

“Don’t let me go,” Chip whispered.

Simon held him tighter. “I’m never gonna let you go.”

“That’s all I needed to hear.”

Simon needed to move, but for a moment he just wanted to stay exactly where he was, Chip’s body tight around him and Simon’s senses full of his man.

 

Buy Links

DREAMSPINNER PRESS

AMAZON

ALL ROMANCE EBOOKS

 

About the Author

Author picSue Brown is owned by her dog and two children. When she isn’t following their orders, she can be found plotting at her laptop. In fact she hides so she can plot and has gotten expert at ignoring the orders.

Sue discovered M/M erotica at the time she woke up to find two men kissing on her favorite television series. The series was boring; the kissing was not. She may be late to the party, but she’s made up for it since, writing fan fiction until she was brave enough to venture out into the world of original fiction.

AUTHOR LINKS

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/suebrownstories

Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/SueBrownsStories

Twitter: https://twitter.com/suebrownstories

Google+: https://plus.google.com/+SueBrownstories/

Blog: http://suebrownsstories.blogspot.co.uk/

Website: http://www.suebrownstories.com/

Email ID: suebrown.stories@gmail.com

================================================

Q&A

Why are Brits so obsessed about American cowboys?

We don’t have proper cowboys in the UK. We have men in white vans who offer to repair roofs and lay driveways. Then they charge five times the price for shoddy work. These are our cowboys. Not the same at all. I like yours better.

Why did Simon’s eye colour change several times in Morning Report?

Um, he’s interesting? He’s a robot in disguise? He’s got disco eyes?

Which newspaper do you prefer to read? 

The Times if its in print. Online I pretty much read every newspaper I can find. I love news from local media. If I’m following a news story I’ll go back to the local source because you get a whole different perspective.

When writing, what – other than your laptop – does your muse demand to have around you?

Coffee. Coffee. Coffee. Coffee.

Narrate the weirdest plot that came to your mind.

Um, I wrote it. The Sky is Dead. That’s all I say.

=================================================

 

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Get a chance to win two signed paperbacks of ‘Letters From A Cowboy’ or a package of Morning Report stories!

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Tour Schedule

June 10: Love Bytes Reviews || Up All Night, Read All Day

June 11: Molly Lolly: Reader, Reviewer, Lover of Words || Divine Magazine

June 12: Elin Gregory

June 15: Elisa – My reviews and Ramblings

June 16: Multitasking Mommas Book Reviews || Drops of Ink

June 17: Rainbow Gold Reviews || Man2ManTastic

June 18: Gay.Guy.Reading And Friends || Evelyn Shepherd

June 19: MM Good Book Reviews || Wicked Faeries Tales And Reviews

June 22: Foxylutely Books || BFD Book Blog

June 23: Nessa’s Book Reviews || Diverse Reader

June 24: RJ Scott || Nautical Star Books

June 25: Bayou Book Junkie || Prism Book Alliance

June 26: Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words

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A Place to Call Their Own Spotlight Post

I am happy to announce that the Second Edition of A Place to Call Their Own is available from JMS Books, LLC and other online retailers.

Blurb

Frank Greerson and Gregory Young have been discharged from the Army and are headed to their childhood homes. They both defied their parents in 1861 when they joined the Army. After battling southern rebels and preserving the Union of the United States of America, the two men set out to battle the Kansas Prairie and build a life together. Once they find their claim, they encounter common obstacles to life on the Kansas Prairie in 1866:  Native Americans, tornadoes, wild animals, and weather.

When a prairie fire destroys their crops and takes their neighbor’s lives, Frank and Gregory are instructed to find their young son’s aunt. Faced with leaving a destroyed claim, the railroad coming through their land, and dwindling funds, Frank and Gregory must decide whether to leave the place they have worked hard to make their own or fulfill their friends’ dying wishes.

Sales Links:

JMS Books     Amazon US   Amazon UK

Excerpt:

“You two together, or…” Mr. McAvoy asked with a puzzled look on his face.

Mrs. McAvoy raised an eyebrow, also curious about the situation.

Gregory gave Frank a nervous and mischievous look and answered, “Ah, yes, sir. We planned to each get a claim and build one house for now, help each other out.”

The answer seemed to satisfy both Mr. and Mrs. McAvoy. “That sounds like a good idea. It’d be nice to have a few neighbors around to help with things once in a while. And what I wouldn’t give to have had just one other man to help me with some of the house building and stable. You stay around here, and you’ll need a stable. Wolves and coyotes will get your livestock if you don’t.”

“How did you protect yourself before? This stuff doesn’t get built in a day.” Gregory asked.

“It takes ’em a while to figure out you’re here. And of course, it’s worse in the winter than this time of year. They haven’t been quite so bad the last few weeks, have they?” he directed to his wife.

“No, they calmed down. Hopefully they’ve been preying on the deer that are eating my potato plants.” answered Mrs. McAvoy. “You two want to stay for supper? I’ve got a big pot of rabbit stew on the stove.”

“It’ll be good, I promise. She’s done great cooking whatever I can find for us,” Mr. McAvoy added.

Gregory ignored the invitation. “How’s the hunting around here? You do good during the winter months?”

“Yeah, in the fall it’s the best—the animals are all fat and sassy from the summer. You can tell the bucks from the does, and you don’t have to worry about orphaning a young deer like you do now. There are plenty of rabbits and prairie chickens right now. You can find squirrels…”

“And the meadowlarks do fine, too, in a pinch,” piped in Mrs. McAvoy. “Now, what about supper?”

“We appreciate the offer, ma’am,” Frank spoke up. “But we’re just trying to find us our claims and be done with traveling. We’ve been traveling nearly six weeks now. It has been that long since we had a decent home-cooked meal, but we need to keep moving on today.”

They both remembered the last time they joined anyone for dinner. The McAvoys seemed harmless, but Frank and Gregory were both a bit shy about joining anyone else at this point.

“Yeah, we’re getting close to where we want to settle,” Gregory added. “We appreciate the offer and all, but we just want to keep moving.”

Mrs. McAvoy smiled, turned, and ran into the house with her load of laundry. Neither Frank nor Gregory knew if she was hurt because they declined the supper invitation or just needed to get back to her household chores.

“We understand that. Took us nearly six months to get here from New York, where we come from. We stayed with some relatives along the way, but the missus did appreciate it when we finally stopped here.”

“Well, we appreciate your hospitality and all your help. We should probably get going,” Frank said, glancing at Gregory.

“If you happen to end up around here, don’t be strangers. Just let us know where you’re at,” Mr. McAvoy replied.

“It’s a deal, sir,” Frank said and extended his hand.

Mr. McAvoy walked over and took it. After they were done, McAvoy stepped away from the wagon.

Gregory slapped the reins and yelled “giddyap,” and the horses sprang forward.

A frantic Mrs. McAvoy yelled from inside the house, “Wait!”

Frank grabbed Gregory’s arm to stop him. Gregory pulled back on the reins.

Mrs. McAvoy came out of the cabin with a small basket covered with flour sack cloth.

“This here isn’t much, but maybe it will allow you to rest once you stop for the night. I put two crocks of my stew in there and part of the bread I baked for our supper tonight. I don’t know why I did it, but something told me to make extra bread today.”

“We’re mighty obliged, ma’am. This will help. Now we don’t have to worry about hunting anything for our dinner. We’ll just warm this by the fire and be ready to go,” Gregory spoke up.

“Yes, ma’am. We are getting a bit worn out by this trip,” Frank said. He grinned at Gregory and said, “Hopefully, we’ll be finding our home soon.”

Both men tipped their hats once more, and Gregory got the horses going again.

Dove and Daisy lumbered along for the rest of the afternoon and into the early evening. Before they realized it, the wagon climbed a gentle, gradual grade. The early evening sun blinded them as they reached the crest of the ridge. At the top, Frank looked over his shoulder where the wagon had just been. There he saw the trail left by the wagon and horses in the prairie grass. To the west, a line of trees indicated a creek, river, or some sort of waterway. The sun drenched the entire landscape in its golden hue. He looked at Gregory, and they both knew this was their new home. They had arrived on the homestead.

“Welcome home, Frankie!” Gregory yelled at the top of his lungs.

~

Giveaway:

In celebration of the release of A Place to Call Their Own, I am giving away a copy of my novel, Disappear With Me.

Enter the competition by clicking HERE

About Dean Pace-Frech

New bw headshotWith inspiration from historical tourism sites, the love of reading, and a desire to write a novel, Dean started crafting his debut novel, A Place to Call Their Own, in 2008. After four years of writing and polishing the manuscript, it was accepted and originally published 2013. His second novel, Disappear With Me, set in Edwardian England was published later that same year. Both novels were re-released in May 2015.

Dean lives in Kansas City, Missouri with his husband, Thomas (legally as of February 14, 2015), and their two cats. They are involved in their church and enjoy watching movies, outdoor activities in the warmer weather and spending time together with friends and family. In addition to writing, Dean’s hobbies include reading and patio gardening.

Dean is currently working a standalone title, Need Your Love, set in 1966, and The Higher Law, a continuation of the story of Frank and Gregory’s family set in the 1930s.

Connect with Dean Pace-Frech

Email deanfrech@aol.com

Blog:  Dean’s Web Site

Facebook:  Dean Pace-Frech, Author page or send a friend request Dean Pace-Frech.

Twitter: @deanpacefrech

Google+: +deanpacefrech

Goodreads: Dean Pace-Frech

Pinterest:  Dean Pace-Frech

 

 

 

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