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Finders Keepers Blog Tour    Author: P.G. Forte

2/25/2019

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FINDERS KEEPERS by P.G. Forte, Science Fiction Fantasy, 150 pp., $3.99 (Kindle)

Title: FINDERS KEEPERS
Author: PG Forte
Publisher: Chapultepec Press
Pages: 150
Genre: SFR/Menage

Sometimes finding what you want is the easy part.

Caleb is a bionic soldier with little-to-no memory of his past. Aldo’s an undercover cop who’s searching for the man who got away. Then there’s Sally, an ER physician who used to be married to Aldo’s late partner, Davis. Sally’s just looking for a reason to keep on getting up every day.

This holiday season, chance will bring them together and give them an opportunity to help one another find what they each want most. But every gift comes with a price. And keeping what they’ve found once they’ve found it? Yeah, that’s gonna be the hard part.

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Chapter One

I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future.
The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me.
I will not shut out the lessons that they teach.
--A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens
Detective Aldo Nash could almost hear his brain humming as it worked to categorize the myriad scents tingeing the cool night air: cedar and sea spray, dry asphalt, cooling car engine, and most potent of all, the warm, aroused flesh of the man Aldo had pinned beneath him.
Aldo slid practiced hands over the slim, partially clad form, and the man moaned softly in response, his whole body writhing instinctively closer as he arched into Aldo’s touch. Aldo pulled in another heady lungful and smiled in contentment. On nights like these, he purely loved his job.
He couldn’t say working undercover for the Oakland PD had exactly been a lifelong dream, but Aldo’s brief stint in the army had left him uniquely qualified for it all the same, and largely unqualified for anything else. When the USA was formally dissolved following the economic collapse of the 2020s and what was left of the military was fully privatized, the idea of patriotism lost its meaning. Losing Kyle on top of that had left Aldo with no clear idea of what he wanted to do with his life.
After giving college a try, Aldo had signed up for the police academy on a whim. Unexpectedly, he found his niche. Now he derived a lot of satisfaction from knowing he was helping to prevent future crimes from happening, rather than hoping to solve those that had already occurred. He got to be proactive, stay one step ahead of the bad guys rather than the other way around. But the bottom line was proficiency. He was damned good at what he did.
Not to take away from any natural ability to dissemble he might have inherited from his late actress mother, but most of his success was due, in no small part, to all the experimental drugs he’d been given by the military. His consciousness had been purposely and methodically expanded, and his brain reconfigured to the point where he could easily exert control over his brain waves and sympathetic nervous system.
In a world where just about every criminal, from the capo dei capi of large, multinational drug cartels to the lowliest of hood-grown thugs, had their own psi-ops tech on speed dial, that kind of advantage was a definite point in Aldo’s favor. No matter how skillful said techs might be at worming their way into other people’s minds and tunneling through their thoughts, with him they could only read what he wanted them to read.
Of course, there were also things about his job he didn’t like. The hours were murder since, apparently, crime rarely slept and when it did, its schedule was crap. The regular debriefings with their in-no-way-optional mind-scrubs were a major headache. Literally. Worst of all, the company he was forced to keep generally sucked, and not in that good kind of way.
That wasn’t the case at the moment, however. No, when it came to his present company, Aldo had absolutely no cause for complaint. Tonight’s operation had him working in tandem with a new partner, an agent on temporary loan from some alphabet agency; Aldo wasn’t sure which one. He hadn’t asked. He didn’t care. As far as he was concerned, it didn’t matter. They were all pretty much the same, and the agent would be gone soon either way. Unless Aldo had missed his guess—a possibility he considered most unlikely—his new partner had been chosen for this assignment based solely on his looks. And Aldo was certainly not unhappy with those either.
He had no idea how much of the other man’s appearance was due to surgical alteration or chemical enhancement, but that was something else he sure as hell didn’t care about. Hot was hot, and Special Agent Caleb Mitchell was just about the hottest thing Aldo had seen in a good long while.
Standing at a hair under six feet, Caleb was just a couple of inches shorter than Aldo. He had fair hair, full lips, broad shoulders atop a dancer’s slim build, and everything about him, from his features to his proportions, was a little too perfect to be real. If the man had a flaw anywhere, Aldo had yet to find it, and not for any lack of searching. Even though they were both pushing forty, only Aldo looked his age. Special Agent Mitchell had obviously been the recent recipient of some highly classified and no doubt heavily restricted cell de-aging therapy, giving him the appearance of a man a good two decades younger than his current chronological age, the lucky bastard.
On second thought, maybe it was Aldo who’d lucked out; he got to look at the bastard, after all.
It was the case the two men were working that had brought them here tonight, to this exclusive private club located high in the Oakland Hills. Aldo’s role in Operation Midas—the elaborate sting the department was running—was to attempt to infiltrate a notorious local group of wealthy, degenerate scumbags. His appearance at tonight’s function, and the apparent arrest that—if everything went as planned—would shortly follow, was supposed to give him the “street cred” he needed in order to gain the scumbags’ trust and acceptance. Disguised as yet another degenerate wannabe, Aldo had done his best all evening to ingratiate himself with the crew. Agent Mitchell, by virtue of his rent boy looks, had been picked to play the part of Aldo’s paid escort or, as Aldo had jokingly told him, to do as he was told and look pretty doing it. He was playing his part very well, in Aldo’s considered opinion, particularly at the moment.
Another gust of air blew across the parking lot. The body stretched beneath Aldo’s shivered, but was it in response to the sudden chill or to the press of Aldo’s fingers that had just breached his opening? Aldo leaned in closer, partially in an attempt to shield Caleb from the cool, night air, partially for the pleasure of pressing himself more firmly against that delectable flesh. “Whattsa matter, darling?” he whispered playfully in the other man’s ear. “Cold?”
Caleb—bent over the hood of the shiny-new Mercedes Aldo had requisitioned for tonight’s operation—glanced up at him and scowled. “Fuck you, Nash. Skip the chitchat, all right? Let’s just get this over with.” Up until that moment, Aldo had found Caleb’s permanently raspy voice a big turn-on, but there was nothing sexy about that angry tone, the gritted teeth, the fury blazing in those jade-green eyes.
Aldo straightened immediately, his fingers slipping free of the other man’s body as he pulled away from him. “What’s your problem all of a sudden? Why you wanna act like such a prick?”
“Gee, I can’t imagine.” Caleb pushed away from the car and busied himself with his clothes, a rented tux of markedly poorer quality than the one Nash wore. He tugged his shirt and pants back into place, then bent to retrieve his jacket.
“That’s it?” Aldo prodded. “That’s all you got to say?”
Caleb shrugged. “Well, it couldn’t possibly have been anything you were doing, right?” He shoved his arms into the jacket’s sleeves before turning to face Aldo. “Look, don’t worry your pretty little head about it, darling. I’m sure your technique gets you rave reviews. You’re probably very popular with all the other boys.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“What it means, Detective, is that while I have no problem helping your ass get arrested, I didn’t know you’d be looking to take things so far. It’s not my thing. It’s not what I signed up for.”
An ice-cold shower couldn’t have cooled Aldo’s blood any more effectively—or any more quickly either. Screwing the other man in the middle of a parking lot hadn’t been his idea. Well, not entirely his idea. But it was exactly the kind of thing the character he was attempting to portray would have done, and a damn good way to ensure his arrest. Besides, they’d both agreed to it, hadn’t they? Or maybe not. Caleb had been noticeably reticent during the meeting when the plan had been hatched. He’d been reticent during both their meetings. Aldo figured that was just his way. Now, as he frowned back at Caleb, niggling doubts began to displace his complacency. “Bullshit. This is exactly what we discussed. And besides, you…” A brief pause. A deep breath. A cold, hollow feeling in his gut. Fuck. He couldn’t have misread those heated, heartfelt moans…could he? “You were just as much into it as I was.”
“Yeah, okay, Romeo. You keep telling yourself that. Just remember, though, none of this was my idea.”
A hot blush scalded Aldo’s cheeks. “If you really hadn’t wanted it, you should have said something,” he insisted, striving to keep his voice cool.
Caleb quirked an eyebrow at him. “I thought I just did?”
“I meant sooner.”
“What, and spoil all the fun you were having? We wouldn’t have wanted that, would we?”
“Care to elaborate on that?”
“Not particularly, no.” Caleb shrugged. “Anyway, I figured you already knew I wasn’t interested.”
“Are you fucking insane?” Aldo glared at him. “You think I knew and…and what? What the hell were you thinking? You think I’d do that kind of thing for…for fun?”
Caleb blinked. His expression was one of guileless innocence that had to be fake. “Well, sure. Isn’t that kind of the point? Correct me if I’m wrong, Detective, but isn’t that how guys like you get off?”
Nash’s jaw clenched. “Exactly what are you suggesting, Agent Mitchell? What kind of guy am I?”
“Well, I meant gay. But you can take it any way you want. How should I know what kind of kinky shit you’re into?”
“Gay? Meaning you’re not?” A sardonic smile lifted Aldo’s lips. “Now, why am I finding that hard to believe?” He could still recall the feel of the other man’s cock in his hand—stiff, throbbing, dribbling precum. There was no way Aldo had imagined that response. Not gay, my ass.
Caleb shrugged indifferently. “Beats the shit outta me. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s probably unresolved issues from your childhood. Or maybe you just hate having to admit you’re wrong.” Caleb cupped his junk and stroked provocatively over the hard bulge at his groin. It was all Aldo could do to suppress a shiver of need as his gaze tracked the motion. “The way I see it, I already got one dick. It’s right here, see? Conveniently placed and fully functional. So why would I have any need of yours?”
Aldo opened his mouth, ready to point out that Caleb was still hard from what Aldo had been doing to him, but before he got a single word out, Caleb’s expression abruptly changed. Moving swiftly, he grabbed Aldo by the open sides of his shirtfront and yanked him close. “Incoming at two o’clock,” Caleb whispered urgently. “We’re about to get company, and I don’t want to have to do this more than once, so let’s make it look good.” Then he sealed Aldo’s mouth in a passionate-seeming kiss.
Aldo stiffened under Caleb’s assault. What the fuck was the idiot doing now? For the space of two, maybe three heartbeats, Aldo froze, unable to even process what was happening. Then he kissed Caleb back, curving one hand possessively around the back of Caleb’s neck while his other hand made itself at home at Caleb’s waist. The crazy son of a bitch had him tied up in knots. His taste, his kiss, even the sounds he made, they were all so delicious, so familiar, so eerily reminiscent of Kyle. Even the scar that slanted across his midsection did so in exactly the same way as Kyle’s…
Aldo had been with Kyle the night he’d received the wound that made it. He could still recall the helpless panic that had risen inside him as he pressed his hands to Kyle’s abdomen, providing pressure, holding the edges of the torn flesh together as best he could while Kyle’s blood welled between his fingers and his breath stuttered in and out unevenly.
 “Don’t die,” Aldo had begged over and over while they waited for help to arrive. “Don’t you fucking do it, Kyle. You hear me? Please…” All the while holding his gaze, not daring to look away, as though by keeping Kyle’s focus he could somehow force him not to lose consciousness, not to leave him…
Aldo’s thumb rubbed back and forth with an increasingly urgent motion, absently caressing the scar. Caleb shuddered again. A thick, needy whimper left his throat. His heart was pounding so hard even Aldo could feel it. When he tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss, Caleb followed his lead automatically, tilting his own head in the opposite direction, opening his mouth wider, inviting Aldo’s tongue in to plunder at will.
Yes. God, yes. Don’t stop.
Footsteps echoed on the wet pavement. The soft murmur of laughter forced itself into Aldo’s awareness. He tracked the sounds through the glistening fog with a growing sense of desperation. Closer… Closer… Slow the fuck down, goddamn it! The sooner they got here, the sooner they’d leave. The sooner this kiss would end. Aldo couldn’t stand for that to happen—not yet. He didn’t want this moment to ever be over. But the steady pace of the footsteps continued. Aldo heard a muffled gasp, a shuffling something that could have been a nudge, an answering grunt, then the footsteps sped up and hurried away, growing fainter and fainter until the sound had melted into the ambient distant noises. Car doors slammed. An engine started. Aldo groaned inwardly. Mission accomplished, goddamn it.
Caleb took a deep breath and pushed Aldo away. “And we’re done.”
Aldo’s heart beat savagely. He grabbed Caleb’s wrist and tugged him back against him. “The hell we are.”
Caleb’s hands tightened into fists. “Nash,” he snarled in warning. “Let me go. I will deck you if you don’t take your hands off me, and I mean right the fuck now.”
“Not so fast. That scar on your stomach, how’d you get it?” As he spoke, Aldo pulled Caleb’s shirt out of the way and held it there, exposing the other man’s chest and stomach to his sight. On closer inspection, Caleb’s scar wasn’t exactly identical to Kyle’s, but it was close enough that fifteen years and a few additional surgeries could easily account for the difference. Aldo stared at the wrecked flesh, unable to look away, remembering that long-ago fear. I nearly lost you! But he had lost Kyle, hadn’t he? Maybe not that day, but in the end Aldo had lost him just the same.
“Screw you,” Caleb growled as he yanked his arm free of Aldo’s grip. “It’s none of your fucking business how I got it. Now get off me.”
“Tell me, please. I need to know.”
Caleb’s mouth tightened. An angry flush colored his cheeks as he dropped his gaze and looked away, mumbling, “I don’t know, all right? It’s not important.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“Did I fucking stutter? I can’t remember. Jeez.” Shoulders hunched against the cold, Caleb tugged his shirt closed and began to button it. “Give it up already. Get a life.”
“How can you not remember?” Aldo waved his hand impatiently, gesturing at Caleb’s midsection. “You’d have to have been nearly gutted to end up with a mark like that.” He knew that for a fact.
“Yep. Very likely.” Caleb shrugged. “But what can I tell you? Another day, another mind-scrub. Know what I mean? You’d be surprised how much you can forget if you try—or, hell, even if you don’t try.”
“What?” Aldo’s eyes widened in shock. A feeling of sick terror chilled him to the bone. “But that… Mind-scrubs? No. That can’t be right.” That wasn’t possible, was it?
“What’s the matter, Nash? No, wait, don’t tell me. Let me guess. You were hoping to make a lasting impression on me, weren’t you? Didja think maybe I’d be so blown away by your mad sex skills I’d change my mind and decide I wanted to come play for your team instead? Sorry to disappoint you.”
Anger flared. “You are such a fucking ass. What’s your deal? Are you always like this? Or is this just part of some act?”
Something about Aldo’s frustration must have amused Caleb. He chuckled softly as he finished tucking his clothes back into place. “You know, Nash, I think it’s real cute how fixated ya are on my ass.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
Once again, with no other warning, Caleb pressed close. “No need for that, is there?” he murmured, distracting Aldo with a kiss, hands fumbling at Aldo’s belt. “Especially not tonight. That’s what I have you for.”
“Fucking asshole,” Aldo groaned. The shuddering sigh that left his lips sounded a whole lot like surrender, but he just couldn’t work up a reason to care. Kyle, Caleb, whoever the fuck this was, was driving him nuts. “You make me crazy. You know that, right? I can’t for the life of me figure you out.”

CALEB SMILED. YEAH. He knew. And right now he was counting on it. His mechanically enhanced hearing had easily picked up the crunch of car tires heading up the hill, the crackle of static from the police radios. It was showtime.
The detective’s cock was still at half-mast when Caleb pulled it free of his pants. Working it back up to fully loaded and ready to pop was sinfully easy. Just a few quick strokes were all that was needed. Nash’s cock pulsed and swelled in Caleb’s hand as if it had been trained to it.
The fog around them had lit up like a Christmas tree by the time Caleb broke away, ending the kiss. Somewhere in the mist, car doors slammed. Nash hardly even seemed to notice that his ride had arrived. He stared fixedly at Caleb with inscrutable eyes. There was the faintest hint of a tremor in his voice as he asked, “Who are you really?”
“No one in particular,” Caleb answered as he grabbed one end of the detective’s white silk scarf and pulled it free. “For right now, why don’t you just think of me as a ghost?”
“A-a ghost?” Nash’s face went white. “Wh-what do you mean?”
“Shhh.” Caleb laid a finger to his lips and faded silently back between the fog-enshrouded trees. “Not now.”
“Wait. Where are you going?” Nash, his hand outstretched, took a single step forward. Then he froze as the searchlights found him.
“Hands on your head,” one of the officers barked, directing his order at Nash. “And turn around slowly.”
Through the heavy mist, Caleb could just make out the shocked and mortified expression on Nash’s face. When his gaze dropped to his exposed crotch, Caleb knew he was debating the wisdom of ignoring the officer’s order long enough to zip up his fly. The soft but unmistakable sound of guns being readied put an end to that. “Oh, fuck me,” he muttered in disgust. “You son of a bitch. You set me up.”
Caleb smiled. That he had. It was a cruel trick perhaps, but effective. He had no doubt it would accomplish its intended purpose of keeping both Nash and the boys in blue occupied long enough for Caleb to make his escape. By the time anyone thought to look for him, he’d be long gone, just a whisper in the wind.
Turning up his jacket collar against the cold, Caleb slipped quietly away. He’d always thought of California as being warm, balmy, even in winter. This was a helluva time to figure out that he, and perhaps most of the world, had been misinformed. He wrapped his borrowed scarf more snugly around his neck, ignoring the tendrils of heat that coiled inside him when the unmistakable scent of its owner reached his nose. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and focused on the long walk that lay ahead of him. He was not looking forward to it.
A three-mile trek through the frosty woods wearing dress shoes, thin socks, and no coat, hat, or gloves was not his idea of a fun time. Even handcuffed, the short ride in a heated squad car, followed by a couple of hours in a cozy jail cell sounded a damn sight more comfortable. Agency protocols were crystal clear, however, and Caleb was under standing orders that left him with no other choice. The hardware in his head was considerably more valuable to the powers that be than he himself was. It was also highly classified. Under no circumstances, other than a verified medical emergency, was he to allow himself to be taken into custody or consent to having his head scanned by anyone other than agency personnel.
The fog increased as Caleb headed downhill. There was a brisk wind blowing in from the bay, and it was carrying the fog along with it. Caleb was forced to go slow and watch his step. His built-in navigational system might ensure he didn’t wander too far off track or get lost in the woods, but it was of no use whatsoever against a loose rock, an exposed root, or a careless footfall. A sprained ankle would only make tonight’s journey that much more unpleasant.
A car passed by unseen on the mist-enshrouded road. Probably Nash on his way to the station. A satisfied smirk curled Caleb’s lips, but only for an instant, and then the memories came, bringing a wave of frustrated need. Nash’s fingers inside him, twisting and thrusting until he was weak in the knees. Nash leaning over him from behind, hot skin branding Caleb’s back. The taste of his mouth. The feel of his hand on Caleb’s cock…
Getting fucked in the parking lot of an exclusive resort by a man he didn’t even like—how could Caleb have ever thought that was a good idea? Maybe he really did need to get his head examined, just like that pretty doctor he’d been crushing on kept suggesting. Why the fuck hadn’t he spoken up sooner? Not tonight—he was pretty sure that would have just been a good way to lose face—but way back when the operation was still in the planning stages, back when any sensible man would have demurred without having to worry about what anyone would think. Why hadn’t he spoken up then?
They could have worked out something else. Lewd conduct with an apparent minor might have seemed like a sure thing, but drunk and disorderly would have done the job as well, wouldn’t it? Plus, a drunken fistfight would have been a hell of a lot more entertaining and just as easy to fake as their little parking lot tryst. Or not fake, if it came right down to it. Even now Caleb’s knuckles practically itched at the thought, at the opportunity to have landed a punch or two along that handsome jaw. It would not have been unwelcome. It still wouldn’t be. If Nash’s expression, when last Caleb saw him, was anything to go by, he probably felt the same.
Despite everything Caleb had said or implied, everything he’d wanted Nash to believe, the idea that he could be attracted to another man wasn’t a total surprise. Caleb wasn’t altogether certain what his original orientation had been. Maybe it had been fairly fluid from the start; it sure as hell was now. But that didn’t strike him as anything strange. It just made sense, didn’t it? The world was more than black-and-white, and he saw no reason to assume sexuality was any different. There had to be more to it than gay or not gay.
What did surprise him, however, was the idea he could be attracted to Nash.
Why him? From day one the arrogant asshole had done nothing but piss Caleb off. So self-righteous. So overconfident. So goddamned sure of himself. Since when had Caleb ever found that sexy? It must be nice, Caleb reflected with more than a little bitterness, to be so sure of yourself, so certain about who you were, how you felt, what you liked--who you liked. Caleb couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that way. Thanks to the neural interfaces in his head, his sense of self was largely rewritten with each new assignment. Maybe he’d never felt that way. Maybe he never would.
But none of that mattered tonight. None of it explained why he’d reacted to Nash the way he had, falling apart at his touch as if he’d been waiting years for the chance to do just that.
It had to be more than just looks, not that there was anything wrong with those. Nash was big, broad, buff—everything Caleb found appealing, including the neatly trimmed beard and mustache and the smoothly shaved head. But shouldn’t his personality flaws have overridden all of that? Sure, he looked like someone you could count on, someone likely to be strong and dependable, but somehow Caleb couldn’t believe that was the case. Look at tonight, for example. Tonight the stupid prick had even managed to turn what was supposed to have been a rather routine job into some kind of bizarre pissing contest.
No. That wasn’t quite right either, was it? It was Caleb who’d done that. Unnerved by his body’s reaction, he’d let instinct override common sense. He’d pulled out all the stops in an effort to find a way under the detective’s skin and piss him off good. Here at the end of the night, though, the joke was on Caleb. He was the one walking home. He was the one still sporting wood.
Caleb slowed to a stop. At least he could do something about one of those factors. He paused to assess the environment. There was no one around. The road was deserted, the nearest houses were out of sight, and it was far too cold for anyone else to be out in the woods tonight. There was nothing around but trees, nothing but wood and more wood. Perfect.
Sighing in surrender, Caleb leaned back against the trunk of a large cedar. He widened his stance and quickly unzipped his dress pants. Just a few strokes—that’s all it would take. Just a couple of minutes to relieve the tension, to ease the ache in his balls, to get that son of a bitch Nash out of his head and make the rest of his trek a little more bearable.

His hand felt cold as he wrapped his fingers around his dick. He brushed his thumb over the head, but there was not enough moisture to slick his way. For an instant he contemplated using spit, but it was just too cold.
Caleb pulled at his dick, quickly settling into a brisk, efficient rhythm. As he did, he cast around in his mind for a hot fantasy. Anything to take his mind off the chill. He wasn’t feeling particular. Pretty much anything would do—a woman, two women, a freaking orgy. Instead the vision his mind served up was nothing like what he’d been expecting.
“Oh, fuck me,” he groaned aloud as the image took hold, gathering strength, firing his imagination, becoming the very thing he needed, the only thing that was ever going to get him off tonight. He was so. Damned. Screwed.
Aldo Nash knelt on the ground between Caleb’s feet. His fingers were splayed wide. His big hands clasped Caleb’s hips. Bright sunlight spilled around them, and heat seemed to shimmer in the air. The landscape was beige, the air acrid and so very dry…
Caleb could practically taste the dust on his tongue. He imagined gripping Nash’s head to hold him in place. The warm, stubbled texture of that almost bare skull would tickle against his palms as he fucked into that hot mouth. Alone in the woods, Caleb lifted his hand to his face and spit on his palm. He stifled a gasp as he closed his fist on his shaft once more. Closing his eyes, he imagined it was Nash’s mouth—cool and wet now, as though he’d just paused to sip a cold beer. Swallowing him down. Pulling off with a twist of his lips, a flick of his tongue. Going deep again.
Caleb slid his free hand under his shirt. Palm flat, he let it coast along his abs. Let it travel slowly up to his chest. It wasn’t hard to pretend it was someone else’s hand stroking him like that, someone with strong fingers and a sure, confident touch. Caleb arched off the tree as he gave himself up to the sharp pleasure of fingers pinching and plucking his nipples. He thrust his hips faster, barely even aware anymore of the cold night air. So close now. Yes, God yes. He was so fucking close.
As he continued to stroke himself, Caleb let go, allowing the fantasy to spin itself out…
* * * *
He dropped his head back against the sun-warmed stone wall, felt the heat of it radiating through his T-shirt. Sweat prickled at his hairline. All at once Nash pulled off and sat back on his heels. White teeth flashed in his sun-bronzed face as he grinned up at Caleb.
“Al. Fuck, man, what’re you doing? Don’t stop now.”
Swollen red lips stretched wider. “Tell me.”
Nash’s face looked different. His lips looked softer, fuller, without the door-knocker beard surrounding them. His face looked softer too. Rounder. Gentler. Younger maybe? Caleb shook his head. “Fuck you, man.”
“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Nash leaned in and ran his tongue up the underside of Caleb’s shaft, then pulled back again. Caleb reached for him, but Nash knocked his hands away and sat back again. “Nope. Not happening. That’s all you get until you tell me what I want to hear.”
Caleb’s heart pounded. The muscles of his thighs and butt tensed and released, tensed again. So close. So, so close. “Fucking cock-tease.”
“Yeah, but you love me for it.”
Caleb groaned again. He punched the stone wall behind him until his fists felt bruised. His cock was achingly stiff, but he wouldn’t touch himself. Rules of the game. There was no way he’d give Nash that satisfaction.
Without taking his eyes from Caleb’s face, Nash groped on the ground till he found the beer he’d been drinking earlier. He brought the bottle back to his mouth again, but he didn’t take a drink. Not right away. First he teased the opening, licking, circling, spearing the hole with his tongue. When his lips finally closed around the thick rim, Caleb’s eyes nearly crossed.

Nash turned his head slightly to one side, still holding Caleb’s gaze. He lifted his chin, giving Caleb a clear view of his throat as he drank deeply, swallowing gulp after gulp. Caleb’s knees went weak as he watched Nash’s throat work, watched his Adam’s apple bob, imagined what it would feel like, those muscles massaging his cock…
“Fuck. You win, okay? I need it. Now.”
Nash lowered the bottle. His eyes gleamed warmly as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. A triumphant smile curved his lips. “I don’t think I heard that correctly. Need what?”
“I need your mouth on my dick; what do you think?”
Still smiling, although not as widely now, Nash shook his head. “And you think that’s the way to get it? Sorry, but no.”
“C’mon, man, what more do you want?”
“You know. But hey, take your time. I’m in no hurry. I’m fine where I am. I can stay here all day if I have to.”
Privately Caleb doubted that was the case. The ground was too hot, too rocky, too hard on the knees. Nash had to be feeling it by now. But he was a stubborn shit. Caleb couldn’t help but admire him for that. He groaned again and chuckled weakly. “Bastard. It’s you. All right? I need you. Only you.”
“You got that right, darling. And don’t you forget it. Now, come to papa.”
Nash leaned in, ready to take Caleb in his mouth again, but suddenly that was no longer what Caleb wanted. Reaching down, he hauled the other man to his feet, then spun around to pin Nash to the wall.
Nash melted against him, going suddenly boneless in Caleb’s embrace. His arms snaked around Caleb and held him close, damp skin to damp skin. It should have been uncomfortable, but Caleb reveled in it. Their lips met in a hungry kiss at about the same time Caleb succeeded in finally freeing Nash’s erection. Just like tonight, it sprung to attention in Caleb’s hand with hardly any coaxing. He fisted both their cocks together and began to stroke with a fast, urgent rhythm. “Now who’s the papa?” he muttered against Nash’s lips.
“You are,” Nash gasped as he tore his mouth away from Caleb’s. “Always. That’s why I…” He broke off, struggling for breath. “Oh God, Kay, stop a minute.”
Nash’s arms went lax. He pulled back just far enough for their gazes to lock. The look in his eyes was too turbulent, too intent, too rife with meaning. Caleb’s hand faltered and fell still.
Nash swallowed hard. “Look, I don’t care how many girls you wanna get with, okay? Fuck ’em all, if you have to. Get it out of your system. Just—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Caleb ordered. He pushed forward and slanted his mouth over Nash’s again. “Just stop talking.” He closed his eyes and kissed Nash. Hard. Bruisingly hard. Anything to shut him up. Anything to make him stop looking at Caleb that way. “Besides, it isn’t… It’s never been… That’s not it, okay?” It had never been about getting it out of his system. That was never going to happen. It didn’t matter how much either of them might want it; Caleb couldn’t change who he was any more than Aldo could. “Why don’t you get that?”
“Whatever,” Nash growled as his arms tightened around Caleb once again. “Just remember one thing, asshole: you’re mine.”
You’re mine. Two words that tripped Caleb’s switch, lit his fuse, and sent him hurtling over the edge. “Right back atcha, babe,” he murmured incoherently as he resumed his task, stroking them both into oblivion. In no time at all, his muscles seized and his balls drew up and white light flashed behind his eyes. He came hard. So hard he took Nash with him. They groaned as one, their faces buried in each other’s necks, their spurting cocks bathing them both with sticky seed…
* * * *
Warm liquid splashing over Caleb’s ice-cold fingers pulled him back to reality. He opened his eyes, still struggling to pull air into his lungs. In the wake of the strangest damn fantasy he’d ever had, he felt dizzy and drained and…what the fuck was that about anyway? He shivered with a sudden chill as the wind knifed through the thin fabric of his shirt. His skin was sweaty and damp. The smell of his spunk was strong in the cold night air. And the sense of urgency was almost overwhelming. He had to escape, had to get away right the fuck now, back to town, back to civilization, back to something approaching normal. STAT.
He cleaned his hands off as best he could, but they were still a little sticky and they still trembled faintly as he pulled his clothes together. He turned up his collar, shoved his shaking hands into his pockets, and headed downhill. If tonight had been a contest, it wasn’t hard to decide which of them had won.








PG Forte inhabits a world only slightly less strange than the ones she creates. Filled with serendipity, coincidence, love at first sight and dreams come true.

She wrote her first serialized story when she was still in her teens. The sexy, ongoing adventure tales were very popular at her oh-so-proper, all girls, Catholic High School, where they helped to liven up otherwise dull classes…even if her teachers didn’t always think so.

Originally a Jersey girl, PG now resides with her family on the extreme left coast where she writes contemporary and paranormal romance in a variety of sub-genres.

PG loves hearing from readers. She can be reached directly at: pgforte@pgforte.com

Website Address: www.PGForte.com
Twitter Address: https://twitter.com/PGForte
Facebook Address: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorPGForte/





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Shadow Audiobook Tour   Author: Maureen A. Miller

2/22/2019

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Author: Maureen A. Miller

Narrator: Brandy Skelly

Length: 7 hours 37 minutes

Series: Blue-Link, Book 1

Publisher: Maureen A. Miller

Released: Feb. 4, 2019

Genre: Romance, Suspense

From USA Today best-selling author Maureen A. Miller comes this romantic thriller that spans the Atlantic. Sophie Diem's boss has skipped town, abandoning their counseling firm and taking her investment money with him. As she seeks to rebuild her professional career, she is distressed by the appearance of a stranger. The man keeps to the shadows, but he is definitely stalking her. In an attempt to flee him, she accepts a job offer...in London. Surely, crossing the Atlantic would be enough to deter her shadow. Glenn Barber is a desperate man. He sorely wants answers. The man who can supply them has gone missing, though. Now, all Glenn can do is go after the next best thing: the man's former employee, Sophie Diem. Sophie is shocked to spot her shadow in London. What she learns is that Glenn, the shadow, is not a stalker but rather her only protection. As her attraction to Glenn grows, together, they conspire to locate her former boss and stop him before he can harm others.
USA TODAY bestselling author, Maureen A. Miller worked in the software industry for fifteen years. She crawled around plant floors in a hard hat and safety glasses hooking up computers to behemoth manufacturing machines. The job required extensive travel. The best form of escapism during those lengthy airport layovers became writing.Maureen's first novel, WIDOW'S TALE, earned her a Golden Heart nomination in Romantic Suspense. After that she became hooked to the genre. In fact, she was so hooked she is the founder of the JUST ROMANTIC SUSPENSE website.Recently, Maureen branched out into the Young Adult Science Fiction market with the popular BEYOND Series. To her it was still Romantic Suspense...just on another planet!
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Narrator Bio
I studied theatre in college, and even participated in storytelling festivals when I was growing up. I'm a practicing attorney, and love to participate in ACX projects to keep my creative side happy and fulfilled. I can perform fiction and non-fiction, in neutral-American or Southern-American accents. I live in North Carolina with my husband, toddler, and pound puppy. I have a soft spot for romance and I love a good laugh! Giveaway
Giveaway: $25 Amazon Gift Card
Shadow Giveaway: $25 Amazon Gift Card Feb. 21st: Turning Another Page The Book Junkie Reads . . . Feb. 22nd: The Bookworm Lodge Dab of Darkness Audiobook Reviews Feb. 23rd: Jazzy Book Reviews Feb. 24th: T's Stuff Feb. 25th: Lilly's Book World Feb. 26th: Hall Ways Blog Feb. 27th: Notes from 'Round the Bend The Book Addict's Reviews

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Justice For Breeze Book Blitz                              Author: Melissa Kay Clarke

2/22/2019

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Justice For Breeze
Team Cerberus, Book 5
by Melissa Kay Clarke
Genre: Romantic Suspense

From the moment Asher "Finch" Finchly laid eyes on a Navy Officer when he was a child, his only thought was to become a SEAL. Every action he took was with the single-minded goal of becoming an elite special forces member. He vowed to let nothing get in his way.
Then one night of revelry changed everything.
Two years into realizing his dream, Finch suddenly found himself as a father. Now, there was someone more important than his dreams or duty. Love for his daughter taught him there was something more to life. He would kill for one of Lolly's beautiful smiles - and then the unthinkable happens--she and her mother disappear without a trace.
Raised in an isolated cult, Breeze knows only her simple life - farming, taking care of children, and paying homage to The Mother Gaia. When one of the members escapes with her daughter, Breeze agrees to go along and help, so she leaves her world behind to face the uncertainty of the Outside. Everything is strange in this unknown world, but nothing is more unusual than the feelings she has for the father of the little girl. He stirs feelings in her she's never known and makes her question everything she stood for. Could her entire life be one big lie?




Finch is happy to have his daughter home, but something is not right. Someone is watching her - waiting for him to let down his guard, determined to take away everything he holds dear. He's in for the fight of his life to get back his daughter and the woman who has stolen his heart. Lolly and Breeze are all that matters. No matter what, he will keep them safe or die trying.

*Easily read as a standalone!*

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Protecting Joselyn
Team Cerberus Book 0
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Melissa was born in Tupelo, Mississippi and raised in Houlka, a small rural town forty-five minutes southwest down the famous Natchez Trace. She found a love of reading very early and quickly devoured everything she could. Told repeatedly that she had a wonderful imagination, she turned to scribbling her musings and wrote her first novel while in college. It was never published and has since vanished. The death of a close friend who aspired to become an author reawakened her own desire resulting in penning her first book, Shattered Dreams, published in 2013.

Melissa now resides in Meridian, Mississippi with her supportive family – husband, Robert and daughter Rebecca, two cats, and two dogs. When she isn't writing, she spends way too much time with her online friends and feeding her ravenous appetite for the written word.



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Child of Mine Book Blitz   Author: Jana Richards

2/22/2019

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Child of Mine
Jana Richards
Publication date: February 20th 2019
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Lauren didn’t intend to sleep with her brother-in-law Cole on the day of her husband’s funeral. But now that she is pregnant, she’s not sorry. Cole’s given her a baby, a long-wished-for miracle. He’s been her friend forever, though she never told him or anyone else how unhappy her marriage to his cheating brother was. And she’s afraid to tell the small town that considered her husband a hero that the baby isn’t his.

Cole’s been in love with Lauren since he was sixteen. It kills him that everyone believes the baby is his dead brother’s. All he wants is to claim the baby, and Lauren, as his own. Though she marries him, will Lauren’s heart ever be his?

Lauren must tell the truth or risk losing Cole. Is her newly-discovered love for him greater than her fear of scandal in her hometown?

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks

--

EXCERPT:

“We asked you to come here this evening because we have something we want to tell all of you. Lauren and I are getting married.”

The room went deathly quiet. Lauren tightened her grip on his hand. Her face turned pale as she stared at her family’s stunned expressions. Cole put his arm around her waist, afraid she might faint.

He needn’t have worried. She lifted her chin at a defiant angle and turned to face the others.

“Cole and I have decided this child needs the best possible start in life and that means having a mother and a father. We’ve always been friends, so what better way to start a marriage then with friendship?”

Garrett pushed himself to his feet and came forward. “I think it’s a hell of an idea. You two will make wonderful parents.”

He enfolded Lauren in an embrace. Cole heard her murmur her thanks to her brother. “I think you’ll make a wonderful uncle.”

Charlotte was next in line. She kissed Lauren’s cheek. “I’m so happy for you, sweetie. When’s the big day?”

“In a couple of weeks,” Cole said. “As soon as we can arrange everything.”

Lauren’s parents, Robert and Grace, also extended their congratulations. If they had reservations, they kept them to themselves.

Only his mother remained in her seat, staring at them in disbelief. Cole sat next to her. “What do you want to say, Ma?”

“You can’t replace Billy.” She choked out the words.

“I know that.” He’d known he was second best in her eyes all his life. “I wouldn’t even try.”

“But to marry his wife, to raise his child? It’s wrong. They don’t belong to you. You always wanted what belonged to your brother.”

He wanted to shout at her that the baby was his, that it had nothing to do with Billy. And Lauren was his, too. He’d loved her first. His brother had never appreciated what a gem he’d had in her. He’d squandered his marriage the way he’d squandered the love that had been lavished on him all his life, from his parents, from Lauren, and even from him.

Instead he pressed his lips together and said nothing. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and saw that Lauren stood beside him.

“I know this is difficult for you, Ella. I know you’re grieving. But I have to raise my child in the best way I know how. Aside from my brother and sister, Cole is my best friend in the world. He’s a good man, and I know he’ll be a wonderful father. You should be very proud of him.”

His mother stared at Lauren as if she couldn’t believe what she was saying. Her face twisted. “Don’t you miss Billy at all? Don’t you grieve for him? Nobody understands. Nobody.”

“Ma.”

He said the word a little sharper then he’d intended, but at least it got her attention. She looked up at him in surprise.

“I’m sorry if it hurts you, but Lauren and I are getting married. We care about one another and we care about the baby. The three of us are going to be a family. I wish you could be happy for us.”

Ella dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. Finally, with a shuddering breath, she turned to look at him.

“For Billy’s baby’s sake, I’ll try.”

Billy’s baby.

The pain was swift and unexpected. If she’d stabbed him through the heart with a dagger it wouldn’t have hurt as much.

Author Bio:

When Jana Richards read her first romance novel, she immediately knew two things: she had to commit the stories running through her head to paper, and they had to end with a happily ever after. She also knew she’d found what she was meant to do. Since then she’s never met a romance genre she didn’t like. She writes contemporary romance, romantic suspense, and historical romance set in World War Two, in lengths ranging from short story to full length novel. Just for fun, she throws in generous helpings of humor, and the occasional dash of the paranormal. Her paranormal romantic suspense “Seeing Things” was a 2008 EPPIE finalist.

In her life away from writing, Jana is an accountant/admin assistant, a mother to two grown daughters, and a wife to her husband Warren. She enjoys golf, yoga, movies, concerts, travel and reading, not necessarily in that order. She and her husband live in Winnipeg, Canada with an elderly Pug/Terrier named cross Lou. She loves to hear from readers and can be reached through her website at www.janarichards.com

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Dangerous Flaws Book Tour    Author: Susan Hunter

2/22/2019

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Dangerous Flaws by Susan Hunter Banner

Dangerous Flaws

by Susan Hunter

on Tour February 1 - March 31, 2019

Synopsis:

Dangerous Flaws by Susan Hunter

A chilling murder shocks a small Wisconsin town.

True crime writer Leah Nash is stunned when police investigating the murder of a beautiful young college professor focus on her ex-husband Nick. Leah has no illusions about her ex, but despite his flaws, she just can’t see him as a killer. Reluctantly, she agrees to help Nick’s attorney prove that he isn’t.

But Nick’s lies make it hard to find the truth, and when a damning piece of evidence surfaces, Leah plunges into doubt. Is she defending an innocent man or helping a murderer escape? She pushes on to find out, uncovering hidden motives and getting hit by twists she never saw coming. Leah’s own flaws impede her search for the truth. When she finds it, will it be too late to prevent a devastating confrontation?

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery
Published by: Himmel River Press
Publication Date: December 11th 2018
Number of Pages: 392
ASIN: B07KK2HM6M
Series: Leah Nash Mysteries, Book 5
Purchase Links: Amazon | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

How did everything go so wrong? But then again, why did she ever think that this could come to anything but disaster? She knows now there are only a few ways this can end and none of them are good.

She sighs, then bends down to put the leash on Tenny, her crazy little mixed-breed dog, looking up at her with big brown eyes. He’s so happy and so oblivious. Despite her sense of coming catastrophe, she can’t help smiling at him. He begins wagging his tail, then dancing around eagerly in anticipation of his nightly run. She can barely get the leash hooked.

“Come on, then, you heartless beast. I’m in the worst situation of my life, and all you can think about is getting out and having fun. Tell me again why I bother with you?”

They leave and walk down the road—no sidewalks here—toward the county fairgrounds, an expanse of 80 acres just a short distance away. She loves the odd mix of town on one side of her home and country on the other.

She shivers a little. Her exhaled breath leaves a small trace of vapor in the air. Under the silvery light of the full moon, everything stands out in crystalline splendor: the piles of snow left by the plow, untouched yet by the dirt and grime of passing cars; bare branches of trees shimmering with frost; the stars themselves, flashing and glittering like sparkling beads sewn on the black night sky. It is incredibly beautiful. But she barely notices. She is too lost in thought.

Should she do as she threatened, confess and bring everything to a head? If she does, there’s no going back. And she isn’t the only one who will suffer—or be saved. Because isn’t it possible that freedom, not tragedy, will be the outcome? Things do, sometimes, turn out better than we expect. She feels a momentary spark of optimism, but it fades. This is too important for wishful thinking. She must be realistic. Once the truth is out, the consequences will be devastating. But this—the way she’s living now, lying, denying, pretending that everything is fine—is crushing her. So intent is she on her thoughts that she doesn’t hear the crunch of footsteps behind her.

Doesn’t notice the increasing agitation of her little dog. Doesn’t recognize the impending danger.

“I finally caught up with you.”

Startled, but not alarmed—she recognizes the voice—she turns.

“What are you doing here?”

“We didn’t finish. I need to know you understand.”

She doesn’t want to have this conversation. Not tonight. Not when her mind is so filled with jumbled and conflicting thoughts. Her reluctance shows on her face.

“You said you want to do the right thing. I do too, but you’re wrong about what it is. Please, let’s talk.”

“Tomorrow would be better. I—”

“No! It wouldn’t be!”

The words are said with such force that she takes an involuntary step backward. Tenny growls softly at her side.

“I’m sorry. But we’re talking about my life! Don’t I deserve a few minutes at least? I’ll walk with you. Please?”

She sighs. But now Tenny is pulling at his leash, eager to run free on the frozen surface of the pond.

“All right.” She slips off her gloves and bends down to release the dog. Her cold fingers fumble and his eager jumping makes it hard work. He spies something on the ice and springs forward with excitement. Both the collar and the leash come loose in her hands, and he dashes away.

She tucks them into her pocket as she stands. It’s then that she notices the barricades around a large hole in the frozen pond.

“I forgot about the Polar Plunge tomorrow. Let’s go that way, in case Tenny gets too close. The barriers should keep him out, but he’s a wily little devil.”

They walk around the edge of the pond. She is silent; she doesn’t interrupt. But she isn’t persuaded. Her focus turns inward, as she searches for the right words to explain. All the while she knows they will be unwelcome. As she struggles for a way to be both truthful and kind, she misses the rising tension in her companion’s voice. She doesn’t register the transition from desperation to danger.

A loud series of barks causes her to look up. Tenny is chasing a muskrat across the ice. Both of them are heading toward the barrier-shielded hole in the frozen pond. For the muskrat, it will mean escape. For Tenny, it will mean calamity.

“Tenny, no! Come here!” She runs out on the ice, calling him, moving as fast as she can on the slippery surface, trying to distract the dog. But intent on his prey, he ignores her. He dashes under the barricade just as the muskrat slips into the water to safety. Tenny slides to a stop, gives a few frustrated yips, then turns toward her. His expression clearly says, “Thanks a lot. I almost had him.”

She reaches the edge of the barricade and pushes it aside, holding out the leash and collar.

“Tennyson, come here right now.”

He makes as if to obey, but when she leans to get him, he scampers away. She calls him again.

He comes tantalizingly close, then eludes her grasp and retreats with a cocky grin on his face.

He likes this game.

She sets the collar and leash down on the ice. She gets on one knee and reaches in her pocket.

When her hand emerges, it’s holding a dog treat. In a honeyed, coaxing voice, she says, “Hey, Tenny. Look, sweetie! Your favorite, cheesy bacon.”

She stays very still as he approaches. When he gets within range, she intends to scoop him up, scold him, and never let him off the leash again. He moves slowly, maintaining eye contact with the treat, not her. She stretches her hand out ever so slightly. He streaks forward, snatches it from her open palm, and runs away across the pond. Then his attention is caught by a deer just reaching the middle of the ice. He gives chase.

She sighs with relief. At least he’s away from the open water. She starts to rise. Without warning, a strong shove from behind sends her sprawling. Her head hits the ice. She’s dazed for a second. Then terrified as another shove pushes her forward and into the hole cut in the pond.

The shock of hitting the water takes her breath away. The weight of her clothes pulls her down.

She struggles back to the surface, disoriented and confused. Her breathing is shallow and quick—too quick.

She swallows a mouthful of water and starts to choke. Panic rises. Her arms flail.

One hits something hard. The edge of the ice. Her fright lessens as she can see a way out.

She works her body around so she can grab the icy lip of the opening in the pond. She begins to move her legs, stretching out as though she were floating on her stomach. As she transitions from vertical to horizontal, she’s able to get one forearm on the ice. She tries to lift her knee. If she can get it on the ice—she’s too weak. The weight of her water-logged clothes pulls her back into the water. She feels the panic rising again. She pushes back against it with her desperate determination to survive.

She tries again, kicks her legs again, stretches out again, gets her forearms on the ice again.

But this time, she doesn’t try to lift herself. Instead, she begins to inch forward with a writhing motion, like a very slow snake crawling on the ground. She fights for every awkward, painful inch of progress. How long has it been? Five minutes? Ten? Twenty? It feels like forever.

Her arms are numb. Tiny icicles in her hair slap gently against her face as she twists and turns her body out of the water. Tenny is nearby. He’s barking, and then he’s by her left arm, tugging at her sleeve.

“No, no, Tenny, get back.” She thinks she is shouting, but the words are a whisper. She has to rest, just for a minute. She stops. She closes her eyes. But as her cheek touches the ice, Tenny’s bark calls her back to life. She will not give up. She will not die this way, this night.

Again, she begins her hesitating progress forward. She can do this. She will do this. Almost her entire upper body is on the ice now. Just a little longer, just a few more inches, just another—hands grab her shoulders. Someone has come. Someone is pulling her to safety. As she turns her head to look up, she realizes the hands aren’t pulling, they’re pushing, pushing, pushing her back.

No, no, no, no! She tries to fight, but she has nothing left. She’s in the water.

The hands lock onto her shoulders like talons. They push her down, down, down. Water enters her mouth; her throat closes over. She can’t breathe. The last sound she hears from far, far away is Tenny’s mournful bark. Then darkness closes in.

*** Excerpt from Dangerous Flaws by Susan Hunter. Copyright © 2018 by Susan Hunter. Reproduced with permission from Susan Hunter. All rights reserved.

Author Bio:

Susan Hunter

Susan Hunter is a charter member of Introverts International (which meets the 12th of Never at an undisclosed location). She has worked as a reporter and managing editor, during which time she received a first place UPI award for investigative reporting and a Michigan Press Association first place award for enterprise/feature reporting.

Susan has also taught composition at the college level, written advertising copy, newsletters, press releases, speeches, web copy, academic papers, and memos. Lots and lots of memos. She lives in rural Michigan with her husband Gary, who is a man of action, not words.

During certain times of the day, she can be found wandering the mean streets of small-town Himmel, Wisconsin, looking for clues, stopping for a meal at the Elite Cafe, dropping off a story lead at the Himmel Times Weekly, or meeting friends for a drink at McClain's Bar and Grill.

Catch Up With Ms. Hunter On: leahnashmysteries.com, BookBub, Twitter, & Facebook!

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Overture Book Blitz    Author: Skye Warren

2/21/2019

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Overture
Skye Warren
Publication date: February 19th 2019
Genres: Contemporary, Erotica, Romance

Forbidden fruit never tasted this sweet…

The world knows Samantha Brooks as the violin prodigy. She guards her secret truth—the desire she harbors for her guardian.

Liam North got custody of her six years ago. She’s all grown up now, but he still treats her like a child. No matter how much he wants her.

No matter how bad he aches for one taste.

Her sweet overtures break down the ex-soldier’s defenses, but there’s more at stake than her body. Every touch, every kiss, every night. The closer she gets, the more exposed his darkest secret.

She’s one step away from finding out what happened the night she lost her family. One step away from leaving him forever.

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--

EXCERPT:

The memory of our last talk heats the air between us—about condoms and sex. And the way he walked in on me when I moaned his name. God. I’m not sure I can stand another talk like that. “I’m not naive, Liam. I know you took me in because I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks. “That wasn’t exactly the reason. And even though I didn’t know you before I took custody, I’ve grown to care about you over the years. If I didn’t state it clearly enough, then the fault lies with me. I wasn’t raised to show… affection.”

I stare at him, incredulous. Affection? It’s a cold comfort to a girl who’s always wanted the surety of forever. And the word might as well be alien to a man like him. “I’m going to tour the country. The world. I’m leaving, Liam.”

He looks away. “Christ.”

Unease moves through me. “Did you really think I wouldn’t come back?”

“I don’t know why you would want to.”

“Because I care about you.” Liam is six feet of pure muscle and hard will. There’s no way someone like me could go up against him and win. Except that when I take a step closer, he tenses. Another step and he goes still as stone. It gives me a sense of power, enough that I take the final step. “I care about you even though you’re controlling.”

There’s only an inch between the ruffle of my blouse and the flat of his abs.

“You think I’m going to apologize for keeping you safe?” he mutters. “You think I give a damn that you’re mad at me as long as you’re in one piece? That’s the only thing that matters.”

“Because you think of me like a daughter?”

He shakes his head slowly, not breaking eye contact. “No.”

“No?” I whisper.

“When I walked in on you…” His voice is hoarse. “I didn’t think of you like a daughter.”

I should probably be horrified that he would think about me in any way other than family, except I’m the one who started it. I take a step closer, and there’s nowhere for him to go. He’s already backed up against the wall. This big, strong man who could probably make a whole army quake—or at least a battalion. And he’s cornered by me.

This close I can see the green of his eyes, so dark they’re almost emerald, flecked with gold. A scar bisects one dark eyebrow, probably a scar from something terrifying and deadly.

“How did you think of me?” I’m afraid to know the answer, but I’m even more terrified of never knowing. Of being a nameless, faceless body in that writhing crowd, hooking up with a stranger when the man I really want is standing right in front of me, inches away, his breath a feather-touch on my forehead.

A small shake of his head. “It’s not right.”

I’m not sure what right and wrong mean when it comes to us, but I know what it means for music. Someone can play a piece with perfect timing and notation. They can hit every single note, but it still won’t have passion. That part comes from inside. “Then be wrong with me. Don’t make me do it alone.”

I push up on my toes, pressing my lips against his in a blind, artless kiss. I’m off center of his mouth, kissing the corner. He stands still as a statue, letting me wobble on my heels, letting me fall against him, only my broken kiss to balance me.

Grief beats against my ribs. He’s going to make me do it alone. Of course he is. I’m always alone. A small sound escapes me. Loneliness. Pain. It vibrates against his mouth, sound made real.

He jolts as if I’ve shocked him. Something unspools inside him. I feel it in the inch of air between us. And then I feel it in my lips. He takes over the kiss with shocking possession, his hand behind my head, his body turning us so I’m against the wall. He looms in front of me, blocking out the view. There are no vinyl records on the wall, no bass thrumming through concrete and steel. There’s only him, only this. How is it possible that only a few minutes ago I felt powerful? I didn’t know what this would be. I couldn’t know the way I’d revel in surrender.

His tongue touches the seam of my lips, a pure electric sensation that makes me jump. I part my lips in surprise, pulling in the scent of him—man and earth, salt and sea. He tastes elemental. His tongue swipes the tender inside of my bottom lip. It’s more sensitive there than I could have imagined. I feel the slickness of the caress all the way in my core. My thighs clench together.

So careful. So wary. I touch my tongue against his. He’s the one who groans.

His hand fists in my hair, creating a delicious little ache. “Do you know what you’re doing to me?” he breathes, and I try to shake my head; it only makes him pull harder.

“Liam… I need…” It’s like the bedroom when he walked in on me, my hips rocking, mindless, hungry. Worse than that. My whole body is moving restlessly against him.

He tears himself away with a hard sound. Only an inch away. A rough tremor runs through him. It’s a small comfort, knowing that I’ve moved this man. Knowing how much control he has, knowing it’s eroded. But only a small comfort. He still leaves me panting against the door.

“I’m supposed to protect you,” he says, his voice taut with guilt.


Author Bio:

Skye Warren is the New York Times bestselling author of dangerous romance. Her new book ESCORT is out now!

“ESCORT is perfection only Skye Warren can deliver—a poetically erotic tale of exquisitely damaged characters, devastating secrets, revenge and redemption.” – Samanthe Beck, USA Today bestselling author

“Hypnotically romantic…this book reads like a sensual dream and I didn’t want to wake up.” – Tessa Bailey, New York Times bestselling author

Don't miss a release! Sign up for the newsletter to get new book alerts: www.skyewarren.com/newsletter

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Gabe Book Blitz    Author: Giulia Lagomarsino

2/21/2019

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Gabe: A Reed Security Romance
Giulia Lagomarsino
(Reed Security, #11)
Publication date: February 18th 2019
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Gabe is the 11th book in the Reed Security series. It is suggested they are read in order.

“What’s all this?” Cap asked.
“You asked me to bring dishes.”
“No,” he said slowly. “I asked you to bring a dish.”
“Yeah, and when I asked what kind, you wouldn’t f*&king answer me. You just said enough for everyone. So, I dug through my cabinets and brought every f*&king dish I could find.”
I pointed to all the dishes scattered on the counter. Sinner was laughing at me and Cap was groaning. I just stood there staring at them.
“I don’t get what’s so f*&king funny.”
“A dish, a$$hole. You know, food?” Cap laughed.
“No, a dish is just that, a f*&king dish. If you wanted me to bring food, you should have f*&king asked.”
“I did!” Cap said loudly. “I said that everyone was being asked to bring a dish.”
“Since when does that equate to food? Food is food. A dish is something you put food in.”
“That’s what women call it,” Sinner laughed. “When you go to someone’s house and they ask you to bring a dish, they mean a dish of food.”
“Do I look like a woman to you? Do I look like the type of guy that would know what the f*&k ‘a dish’ is, besides the obvious?”
“Man, if you’re ever gonna get a woman to settle down with, you’re going to have to learn their lingo,” Sinner laughed. “A dish means food, unless it means a dish.”
“Thank you for that, a$$hole. Now it all makes sense.”
He squeezed my shoulder. “No problem. You’ll get the hang of it. It’s really not too hard once you have a few hundred fights.”
“Or you could do what I do and just keep a f*&king list on the fridge,” Cap said.
“Yeah? How many lists are you up to now?” I questioned. “How do you even keep track of what list is for what?”
“It’s pretty simple. I have a list for things I’m supposed to say in certain situations. I have a list of things never to say. I have a list of chores that she expects me to do right away. I have a list of things I can put off without pissing her off too much. And last but not least, I have a list of different looks and phrases, and their meanings.”
“Now that sounds like it would be helpful. Isn’t there some kind of book that women write to let us dumb f*&ks know what the hell they’re thinking?”
Sinner shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. They think we should just ‘know’ this stuff or ‘figure it out’ on our own. Like I have time to sit there and decipher every look and tone in her voice,” he scoffed.

Gabe. Sexy, badass protector with some interesting sexual proclivities.
Isabella. Mother of two and currently filing for divorce.
One night at a bar brought them together, but could Gabe opening the door the morning after actually tear them apart?
He’s not ready to walk away, yet she’s not sure she’s ready to move on. Before he even realizes it, he’s falling for her and her adorable hellions.
He’ll do anything to keep her, including following the unorthodox advice from Knight.
But someone wants her out of the picture, and that only fuels his desire to keep her forever.
They say you don’t realize what you’ve got until it’s gone…

Goodreads / Amazon

--

EXCERPT:

I pulled off my suit, carefully laying it across my bed while Chance rolled his eyes at how careful I was being.

“Stop being a jackass. I don’t want my suit all wrinkled.”

“Yeah, you’re right, because you’re going to need it for your next date, since you’re going to miss this one,” Chance said as he looked at his watch.

“Shut up, fucker.” I finished stripping down until I was just in my boxers. I went to pull on my jeans, but Jackson stopped me. “Whoa, what the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m putting my jeans on.”

He shook his head and took a few steps towards me. “Look, I didn’t want to be the one to have to tell you this, but boxers are out. Don’t you own any boxer briefs?”

“What’s wrong with boxers?”

“Nothing, except yours have fucking dogs on them. Is that really what you want her to see when she pulls down your pants? Oh, look at the cute puppies on your boxers,” Jackson said in a girly voice. “You don’t want the word cute anywhere near your dick.”

“They’ve never been a problem before,” I smirked.

“And yet you’re still single.”

That wiped the smile right off my face. I walked over to my dresser and yanked open the top drawer. “Fine. Do you have a color preference? I have black, red, and gray. Or would you like me to run out to the store and grab a different color?”

“Black, jackass.”

I frowned down at the briefs for a moment. “What about…” I scratched behind my ear as I tried to think of the right word. “Sweatage?”

“Sweatage,” Chance repeated.

“You know.” I motioned down toward my groin.

“Ah, you mean your sweaty ball sack.” He nodded assentingly. “Use cologne.”

“You want me to put fucking cologne on my dick? What the hell am I supposed to do when I take her to the fucking hospital because she’s been poisoned?”

“You don’t fucking spray the whole bottle on you,” Chance said. “It’s just like the ladies do. They put perfume on their pulse points to draw you in. You do the same thing, sort of. Just dab a little on both sides of your dick. If you end up sweating, you have the cologne to block the smell.”

I shook my head and made my way into the bathroom, Chance following closely behind. I stopped and held up my hand, blocking him from entering the bathroom with me. “I think I can handle this on my own.”

Chance backed off, hands up to show he wasn’t coming in with me. I shook my head as I let out a long sigh and opened my medicine cabinet. Pulling out the cologne, I uncapped it and smirked at my favorite scent. On the other hand, sometimes when I sweat, it didn’t smell so good. Then, I would smell worse than just sweat. Putting the cap back on, I put it back in the cabinet. I was just about to close the door when I saw a bottle of women’s perfume that someone had left behind. Pulling it off, I sniffed and inhaled a flowery scent. If it was between smelling like sweat or flowers, I’d take flowers.

Yanking down my boxers, I sprayed a small squirt on each side of my dick. Then I kicked off the boxers and pulled on the briefs. Puffing out my chest, I felt better already. I walked back out into the room and started pulling on my jeans, then my button down.

“Do I smell flowers?” Jackson asked.

I shrugged, not answering him. I buttoned my shirt all the way to the top when Chance stopped me.

“Jesus Christ, it’s like you’ve never dressed yourself before. Undo two buttons. Give her a peek at the tat on your chest.”

I undid two, but you could just barely see the ink. “Why don’t I undo one more?” I undid the third button, but Chance and Jackson both cringed. “What?”

“You look like you’re going to The Roxbury. Now, you’re in douche territory again,” Chance grimaced.

“You said to show her my tat. She can’t see any of it with only two buttons undone.”

“She just needs a glimpse, to leave her wanting to peel your shirt off,” Jackson said.

“You know, I used to be able to dress myself, but then you assholes came in and suddenly I feel like I’m five years old.”


Author Bio:

I'm a stay at home mom that loves to read. Some of my favorite titles are Pride and Prejudice, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, and Horatio Hornblower. I started writing when I was trying to come up with suggestions on ways I could help bring in some extra money. I came up with the idea that I could donate plasma because you could earn an extra $500/month. My husband responded with, "No. Find something else. Write a blog. Write a book." I didn't think I had anything to share on blog that a thousand other mothers hadn't already thought of. I decided to take his challenge seriously and sat down to write my first book, Jack. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed writing. From there, the stories continued to flow and I haven't been able to stop. I hope my readers enjoy my books as much as I enjoy writing them. Between reading, writing, and taking care of three small kids, my days are quite full.

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Bride To Burn Audiobook Tour                           Author: Rachel Amphlett

2/21/2019

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Author: Rachel Amphlett

Narrator: Alison Campbell

Length: 6 hours 39 minutes

Series: Detective Kay Hunter, Book 7

Publisher: Saxon Publishing

Genre: Mystery, Police Procedural

Released: Feb. 8, 2019

When a mummified body is found in a renovated building, the gruesome discovery leads Detective Kay Hunter and her team into a complex murder investigation. The subsequent police inquiry exposes corruption, lies and organised crime within the tight-knit community – and Kay’s determination to seek justice for the young murder victim could ruin the reputations of men who will do anything to protect their business interests. But as Kay closes in on the killer, tragedy strikes closer to home in an event that will send a shockwave through her personal life and make her question everything she values. Can Kay keep her private and professional life under control while she tries to unravel one of the strangest murder cases of her career?
Buy Links

Buy on RachelAmphlett.com

Before turning to writing, Rachel Amphlett played guitar in bands, worked as a TV and film extra, dabbled in radio as a presenter and freelance producer for the BBC, and worked in publishing as a sub-editor and editorial assistant.She now wields a pen instead of a plectrum and writes crime fiction and spy novels, including the Dan Taylor espionage novels and the Detective Kay Hunter series.Originally from the UK and currently based in Brisbane, Australia, Rachel cites her writing influences as Michael Connelly, Lee Child, and Robert Ludlum. She’s also a huge fan of Peter James, Val McDermid, Robert Crais, Stuart MacBride, and many more.She’s a member of International Thriller Writers and the Crime Writers Association, with the Italian foreign rights for her debut novel, White Gold sold to Fanucci Editore's TIMECrime imprint, and the first four books in the Dan Taylor espionage series contracted to Germany’s Luzifer Verlag.

Website⎮Twitter⎮Facebook⎮Goodreads⎮Instagram

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Finding the Fight Book Blitz  Author: Brittney Sahin

2/21/2019

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Finding the Fight

A Stealth Ops Novel by Brittney Sahin Publication Date: February 21, 2019 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romantic Suspense

Purchase: Amazon

Their well-kept secrets are about to unravel. Former CIA officer Jessica Scott and Navy SEAL Asher Hayes have worked together for years as part of a black-ops team for the president, but Jessica’s close encounter with death is about to change everything between them . . . As the team hunts down her abductor and tries to prevent an impending attack, Asher will stop at nothing to protect the woman he cares about. But will his actions push Jessica, aka the Ice Queen, further away; or will he knock down her impenetrable walls? With their pasts coming back to haunt them, and their insatiable desire for each other pushing them to the brink, Asher and Jessica will find themselves faced with impossible choices–ones that could topple their very world. In this high-stakes mission, will they be able to find the fight inside of them to win–or will this be one mission that hits far too close to home? A standalone romantic suspense novel in the Stealth Ops SEAL Series.

About Brittney Sahin

Brittney Sahin began writing at an early age, with the dream to be a published author before the age of 18. Although academic pursuits (and, later, a teaching career) interrupted her aspirations, she never stopped writing–never stopped imagining. It wasn’t until her students encouraged her to follow her dreams that Brittney said goodbye to Upstate New York in order to start a new adventure in the place she was raised: Charlotte, North Carolina. Here, she decided to take her students’ advice and begin to write again. In 2015, she published her first novel, The Safe Bet. When she is not working on upcoming novels, she spends time with her family. She is a proud mother of two boys, and a lover of suspense novels, coffee, and the outdoors.

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The Confessional Book Blitz  Author: K. Nilsson

2/20/2019

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The Confessional
K. Nilsson
Publication date: February 20th 2019
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense

Psychology student, Grace Fleming, is addicted to meaningless hook-ups in random places, impulsively following a script for self-destruction and bad behavior. She suffers from nightmares and a patchwork of flashbacks that leave her in a fugue state. Unsure what they mean, she goes to therapy, seeking answers. Is her mind conjuring them up or are they past encounters she’d blocked out?

Saint is a private investigator of dubious character. He will take almost any case, but his favorite includes entrapping married women into infidelity. Saint is hired to keep a watchful eye on Grace while keeping his identity a secret. The paradox tempts him; is Grace, a devil in disguise or an angel with a crooked halo? When he finds himself in a compromising position, Saint quits. He soon regrets resigning when he discovers a sinister threat to her safety, and it may be the reason for the nightmares.

Goodreads / Amazon

--

EXCERPT:

Finn was working his shift, watching Grace from a side street near her house in Hollywood Hills. I went home to shower and eat something. Four hours later, he called.

“Grace’s going somewhere… she’s been dolling up for the last hour,” he said. “You can see that close?”

I was wondering what else he’d seen.

“If only you knew,” he chuckled. “The glass butterfly roof makes it easy viewing with the drone.”

“Do you want to follow her? If not, I can do it. I have no plans tonight,” I said.

“I need the money, boss. How about we do it together? I need to install the tracker app on her phone, and maybe you can distract her.”

I agreed. I’d wanted to meet this girl since taking the case. She hadn’t gone anywhere outside her usual radius ever since she returned home.

I was getting into the car when Finn sent me a text.

Finn: Grace is on the move, I need to follow her.

Me: Where is she?

Finn: She started up that little fireplug of hers and got on I-10 toward Santa Monica. I’m on her tail.

Me: I’m switching to the hands-free mode. I’m driving.

Finn: Oh, forgot about that. I am switching modes too.

Ten minutes later, I was right behind her.

Me: I’m on the highway. I think I see the Bug.

The VW Bug was like a toy, changing lanes seamlessly as if it were in a video game. If I got too close, Grace might see my car. It’s a little flashy for a private investigator, but it was perfect for driving in Southern California. I didn’t want to be spotted, but I wasn’t about to let her lose me. It wouldn’t be unusual for me to drive toward the beach at the same time as she, would it?

Grace pulled up in front of a nondescript little piano bar near the beach. The electric blue neon sign flashed its name, Place Pour Steaks. I got there just in time to see her hand keys to the valet and saunter in; her hips swaying from side to side.

Me? I was playing catch-up all the way. I screeched to a stop in front of the other parking attendant and tossed him the keys.

My 1962 Skylark convertible, though a little beat up, was my pride and joy.

“See this fifty-dollar bill? It’s yours when I leave if you park it over there.”

I pointed at a slot that said Reserved.

Once inside, I took two minutes to find Grace. She’d scrambled up to the bar as if the house was on fire. I looked around for the usual suspects—girls down for whatever and putting in the effort to get noticed. I wanted to meander over to Grace right away, but I couldn’t look as if I was stalking her.

She sat on the stool at the far end of the bar, her right leg elongated, the ball of the foot anchoring her in place, while she rested her left on the stool’s spindle, watching, scoping, and evaluating. It looked as though she had gone to the same school of surveillance as me.

Grace’s platinum blonde hair was in loose waves around her shoulders. She was wearing a style rich girls do well, casual, edgy, and expensive. An off-the-shoulder soft leather jacket, accented with zippers and buckles, was one breath away from slipping down her arms, even though it wrapped her upper body like a glove. A black lace strap appeared to be an afterthought. I wanted to lick her skin all along the edges of the lace and up into her collarbone.

Grace wore the RL signature crisp, white, linen shorts. She encased those long legs in a pair of black over-the-knee boots by MB, an Italian leather shoe designer. As an investigator, I notice these details. If I didn’t have a professional agenda regarding Grace Fleming, I’d know every inch of leg inside the boots. I leaned in close to her and tried to get the bartender’s attention, but instead, I hoped to get hers. First impressions were everything, but I didn’t know what kind of image I’d present, because my interest in the Fleming girl was strong. I shuttered my face into an expression I’d perfected, dispassionate eyes that veil what I’m thinking or feeling.

“Sir?” prompted the bartender.

“I’d like Scotch neat with a glass of water.”

“Would you like ice in your water, sir?”

“No,” I said, turning my palm down with a slight back-and-forth motion.

I stood close enough to Grace to inhale her scent, vanilla, and oranges, with a hint of clove mixed. It was a heady concoction. I wondered if her whole body tasted like sugary breakfast cereal. She turned toward me, and our eyes locked.


Author Bio:

K. Nilsson’s love of reading began with the Bobbsey twins. When she ran across some Italian True Romance novellas stashed in the attic, the musty serials hooked her on adult fiction. Though black and white photos were dramatic enough to know what the stories were about, she taught herself to read in Italian and translated them to her friends.

She’s an unapologetic reviewer of books, restaurants, and vacation destinations. An amateur photographer, K. loves taking editorial photos and documenting her travels. Her personal philosophy, sleeping is a waste of time.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter


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