Posts Tagged ‘LGBTQ+’



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The Science of Attraction
Jay Hogan
(A Mackenzie Country Story, #3)
Publication date: February 22nd 2024
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, LGBTQ+, Romance

I am Mackenzie Country born and bred. Farming the high country runs in my blood, like my father, and his father, and my great grandfather before him. My future has been mapped out for me since the day I was born. Or at least it was, until Liam Skelton walks onto Lane Station, lights a fire in my heart, and turns my whole world upside down.

Bossy, tatted, and out and proud, Liam is everything my father abhors.
And I want him.
Badly.

But having a chance with Liam means risking everything. My family. My future. And my life in these mountains that I love.
Still, the heart wants what it wants, and mine wants Liam.

With so many things against us, maybe we don’t have a chance.
Maybe we’ll crash and burn.
Or maybe we’ll find a way to have it all.

Goodreads / Amazon

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Enjoy this peek inside:

Julian Lane unsettled me in a way not many men did, and it was troubling, to say the least. I’d had a couple of long-term relationships in my life, but I’d never lived with anyone or wanted more. Being a fairly self-contained person, I liked my own company. I spent most days working intimately with people’s complex needs. It was intense, challenging work, and at the end of the day or the finish of a contract, my home was my sanctuary, and I guarded it with my life.

The idea of a man cluttering up that space with their things, inconvenient demands, or just the mere fact of their presence sent horrifying chills racing down my spine. I rarely got flustered by a guy, and certainly not the way Julian unnerved me with his capable air, glittering grey eyes, and that profound sense of knowing his place in the world.

Julian had the air of a man who knew who he was and where he belonged. You wouldn’t need to jolly a man like Jules along to make him feel wanted, soothe an ego bent out of shape, or play down your success so as not to threaten his by comparison. Men like that were rare and held an intoxicating allure for someone like me.

But Jules was also my client’s son, and that alone should’ve made him forbidden fruit even for a bit of harmless crushing. Should’ve. But there’d been something about his smile that first day. Something about the way I’d caught him looking at me when he didn’t think I was watching. And maybe the way I felt when he looked at me, as well.

The whole thing was fucking with my head.

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About Author Jay Hogan:

Heart, humour and keeping it real.

Jay is a 2020 Lambda Literary Award Finalist in Gay Romance and her book Off Balance was the 2021 New Zealand Romance Book of the Year.

She is a New Zealand author writing mm romance and romantic suspense, primarily set in New Zealand. She writes character driven romances with lots of humour, a good dose of reality and a splash of angst. She’s travelled extensively, lived in many countries, and in a past life she was a critical care nurse, nurse educator and counsellor. Jay is owned by a huge Maine Coon cat and a gorgeous Cocker Spaniel

Find Jay in all the places: https://www.jayhoganauthor.com/landingpage

 

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Honey, Romance, and Danger…

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Honey Moon Murder

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Honey Bear Cosy Mysteries Book 3

by Dahlia Donovan

Genre: LGBTQ MM Romance, Cozy Mystery

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Honey, Romance, and Danger…

As August winds down, George Sheth and Murphy Baird are ready to put months of murder mysteries behind them. They hope for calmer days as they move in together. But it’s all for nought when his pug, Bumble, stumbles on the body of a new bride in the middle of the lane.

It’s clear Bumble didn’t kill anyone, but someone did—and they may have set their sights on George.

With a wedding party full of potential suspects, they find themselves caught between the police and angry family members. Can they make it safely through the end of summer alive?

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“Moon’s out.” Margo lazily raised her arm to point up into the midnight sky. “Days are finally starting to get shorter again. We’re ready for the steep descent into autumn.”

“Yes, that’s what happens in August.” George smothered a yawn into his shoulder, unable to move his hands since his elderly pug, Bumble, and Margo’s Chihuahua, Treacle, had taken up possession of them and his lap in general. The two pups were the best of friends. “I’m glad. It’s been a bizarre summer. Dead bodies practically falling out of the sky.”

“There were two murders. A month apart. And neither body fell out of the sky.” Margo poked a hole in his dramatic retelling. “It hasn’t been all bad. You’ve finally admitted to being in love with Murphy Baird. You’re moving in together. I’ve started dating Teagan. We’ve had good things this summer. Don’t let your mind trick you into focusing on the bad.”

“My mind is not always my best friend.” George accepted and appreciated all the quirks that made up who he was. But there were times when being autistic added additional hurdles to his life. “It does make things interesting, though.”

It had been a busy summer for George Bernard Sheth. Maybe the most active since he’d moved from Edinburgh to a little cottage in Dufftown, where he’d created his perfect wild garden, complete with multiple beehives. They were his greatest passion.

The swarming had died down at the end of July. He’d spend August harvesting honey and preparing his colonies for the onset of the cooler months. It was a routine he knew well after several years of tending to his bees.

Closing his eyes momentarily, George allowed himself to enjoy the calm of Margo’s garden. His cousin didn’t go beyond their cosy little corner of the village often and rarely got into a car, still struggling with post-traumatic stress brought on by an accident during her time as a paramedic. They visited each other daily since he lived just down the lane.

They shared their love of gardens and calm, along with the thick black hair and deep brown eyes inherited from their fathers. The Sheth brothers had moved from Udaipur to Edinburgh with their parents years ago, but his uncle had been the one to move to Dufftown. His mum and dad had remained in the larger city, preferring it to quiet village life.

“You’re due a cut.” Margo interrupted his thoughts.

George reached up to clasp the end of his ponytail. “Back, demon.”

“I’m serious. It’s longer than you usually let it get.” Margo laughed when he tried to fend her off with a made-up prayer. “George.”

“Margo.” He hated having his hair trimmed, often going years between cuts to avoid the experience. He occasionally tried to do it himself. “My heart weeps for your lack of empathy.”

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**Don’t miss the rest of the Honey Bear Cosy Mysteries!**

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Honey Mead Murder

Honey Bear Cosy Mysteries Book 1

https://books2read.com/honeybearmurder1

Honey Bee Murder

Honey Bear Cosy Mysteries Book 2

https://books2read.com/honeybearmurder2

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Dahlia Donovan wrote her first romance series after a crazy dream about shifters and damsels in distress. She prefers irreverent humour and unconventional characters. An autistic and occasional hermit, her life wouldn’t be complete without her husband and her massive collection of books and video games.

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Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads * Newsletter

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Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

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The Vet’s Shelter Surprise

by Elle Douglas

 

Published by: Harlequin Special Edition
Publication date: October 24th 2023
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, LGBTQ+, Romance

An unlikely volunteer…

Saving more than the shelter!

When Georgia O’Neill bursts into the Sunset County Animal Shelter, wary veterinarian Mel Carter doesn’t know what’s hit her. But soon, Georgia’s California rays of sunshine are lighting up even the darkest parts of Mel’s heart, still raw after a heart-wrenching betrayal. Still, PR pro Georgia is set only on rehabbing her image while cleaning out her beloved aunt’s cottage. Mel’s life in rural Canada can’t possibly compete with LA glamour…can it?

From Harlequin Special Edition: Believe in love. Overcome obstacles. Find happiness.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play

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Enjoy this peek inside:

“Alright. Follow me,” Mel said, leading Georgia down the bright hallway toward the back room. Time to see how she’d do with their resident reptiles. “Right in here,” she said, motioning to the open door at the end of the hall. “After you.”

Heels clicking against the linoleum, Georgia breezed by, leaving the floral scent of her shampoo in her wake and causing Mel to take a deep breath before following her into the room. How was it that something as inane as hair soap could make her heartbeat rev up to double time, and make her palms sweat like a cold glass of lemonade on a hot day? It really had been too long.

Mel surveyed Georgia’s reactions as she walked between the reptile tanks, silently peering into each one with a curious expression.

“Who’s this one? What’s his name?” she asked, pointing to the iguana.

“That’s Sherbet. And she’s a she,” Mel said.

“Okay. Cute. And who’s this?” Georgia pointed to the turtle.

“That’s Pixie. Careful with that one. She almost took my finger off last time I fed her,” she said. She followed Georgia to the gecko tank. “Lollipop is the brown-and-white one, and Gummy Bear is the yellow one.” She waited for Georgia to approach the final tank, which housed a ball python snake named Slinky. Slinky was mellow and gentle, as well as nonvenomous, but Mel knew very few people who liked being in the presence of his sort. Time to see how much Georgia really wanted to volunteer at the shelter.

To Mel’s surprise, Georgia scanned the tank and tapped quietly on the glass. “A snake,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Slinky,” said Mel. Georgia was full of surprises, she was starting to realize. “Most people don’t want to go near him with a ten-foot pole.”

“I lived outside the desert for a few years as a kid. Place was teeming with snakes,” she said. “Okay, next stop?” Her sparkling hazel eyes ratcheted up Mel’s heartbeat from double time to a full-on Ginger Rogers tap dance.

Next stop was the bunny room. Mel was doomed.

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Author Elle Douglas:

Elle Douglas writes small-town contemporary romance for lovers of warm, feel-good stories that are on the sweeter side. Elle’s novels feature strong, relatable characters living in tight-knit communities, with a backdrop of stunning Canadian wilderness.

Elle is a lover of 90’s alternative music, a wannabe chef specializing in comfort food and a sometimes reluctant but usually dedicated gym-goer who lives in Toronto with her romance muse partner and their cat Lucy (or Lucifer, depending on the day). Between writing romance novels and working as a high school guidance counsellor, Elle works exclusively in helping others find their happily-ever-afters.

She is a graduate of TMU’s Radio and Television Arts program, OISE at U of T, and the U of T Creative Writing program, and is a member of Toronto Romance Writers, Romance Writers of America and Georgia Romance Writers.

Visit her website at elledouglas.com or find her on Instagram at @elledouglaswriter

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Get ready for a charmingly quirky romance with a twist of murder mystery in Honey Mead Murder!

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Honey Mead Murder

Honey Bear Cosy Mysteries Book 1

by Dahlia Donovan

Genre: LGBTQ MM Romance, Cozy Mystery

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Get ready for a charmingly quirky romance with a twist of murder mystery in Honey Mead Murder!

Follow the heart-warming story of George Bernard Sheth, a devoted pug and bee lover, who has been secretly crushing on a local mead brewer. But when a customer dies during a mead tasting, Murphy Baird, the brewer, finds himself at the centre of a police investigation.

As the two navigate the murder mystery, they find themselves falling deeper in love, all while trying to stay alive long enough for their first date. With meddling friends and unexpected plot twists, “Honey Mead Murder” is a must-read for anyone who loves a good MM romance and a thrilling mystery.

Amazon * Apple * Kobo * Smashwords * Books2Read * Bookbub * Goodreads

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“Oi. Mister Grump? Your carthorse has arrived.”

Murphy stood up from where he was crouched down to inspect the latest delivery. “Carthorse? Hardly. I’ve already brought the delivery inside. And for the millionth time, Tea. I am not a grump.”

“No, you just hate mornings, afternoons, people, sunlight, basically everyone but your lovely George.” Teagen was, as always, immune to his glowering at them. “Well?”

“Hate is a strong word. I don’t hate you.” Murphy wasn’t entirely sure he liked his best friend every day, but he didn’t hate them. “Come on then, Tea. We’ve got a fresh batch of honey delivered yesterday. We also need to check on the two-year casks. Probably want another year on them just to get them where we want the flavour.”

For six years, Murphy had run Honey Bear Brewery. It had been a play on his nickname of Paddington, earned during his brief stint in the military, owing to his surname of Baird and his tall, stocky build. His dark brown hair and scruffy beard certainly didn’t help put people off the comparison.

His grumbly stubbornness came from both his Irish and Scottish sides. His ma had always claimed he bore more than a passing resemblance to his great-granddad Murphy. She’d been so proud when he’d decided to continue the family tradition of running a brewery.

For the first two years, Murphy had gone with simple ales. But then, he’d developed a close friendship with a local beekeeper, George Sheth. The younger man had been struggling to sell his honey.

His pride and joy.

Inspired by George, Murphy had decided to begin experimenting with family recipes. Something from his Scottish side. His da had a collection of mead ones that dated back a century or more. It had taken some trial and error to get everything right, but his brewery and the small pub attached to it were doing well six years later.

“Well? Did you finally ask our playwright out?”

“Tea.” Murphy shook his head at their teasing grin. “It’s George Bernard Sheth. Not Shaw. Plus his ma’s Scottish, not Irish, and his dad’s from India, so I highly doubt either of them are related to a famed Irish playwright.”

“Must you take all the joy out of my play on names and words? Besides if they didn’t want anyone to make the connection, why name him George Bernard? Fine, fine. Well? Did you ask him out?”

“He’s named for his ma, Georgie, and I think a great-uncle. And no, I… couldn’t ask him out.”

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Dahlia Donovan wrote her first romance series after a crazy dream about shifters and damsels in distress. She prefers irreverent humour and unconventional characters. An autistic and occasional hermit, her life wouldn’t be complete without her husband and her massive collection of books and video games.

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

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Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

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Free ghost flowers woods illustration

 

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When the dead return to abduct the living, the living turn into monsters…

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The Covenant Sacrifice

by Lee Allen Howard

Genre: LGBTQ Horror Romance

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When the dead return to abduct the living, the living turn into monsters…

Jarod Huntingdon wants more than anything to start a family, yet he’s unable to commit to his girlfriend and isn’t sure why. When the father of his childhood best friend, Scotty, passes away, Jarod takes the opportunity to return home to the remote rural community of Annastasis Creek for a season of soul-searching.

But overnight, a violent rainstorm traps everyone in the valley, blocking roads and severing communication with the outside world. And one by one, the residents of Annastasis Creek go missing.

While helping with the search efforts, Jarod learns of a curse as old as he is, one tied to the reappearance of the cicadas, first placed on the community after five young people perished in a house fire decades before. To temporarily appease the curse, defrocked Pentecostal pastor Uriah Zalmon must find a sinner to sacrifice.

The dead are returning to Annastasis Creek…

Can Jarod break the curse for good, save the innocent from the homophobic Covenant Trustees, and vanquish what the screaming cicadas have awoken?

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**Releases July 14!**

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An Excerpt from Chapter 4

by Lee Allen Howard

 

Agatha Abbott led the young goat into the shack behind her house, which lay hidden deep in the woods of north-central Pennsylvania. Bats chittered overhead in the darkened rafters as the old woman fixed the rope to a gore-crusted post planted in the hardpacked earth. The animal bleated, and Agatha yanked the rope, hard. She had no heart for animals. No heart for anyone but her Master.

At Baphomet’s bidding, she had mated her chosen Samael and Lilith, and their unholy union had produced the beast—the new god that would break the oppressive grip of Christianity off the world.

Agatha withdrew items necessary for the ceremony from her dress pocket and arranged them on the dirt floor.

The time had come. The song of the cicadas had begun, heralding another long-awaited opportunity to reclaim what she and her now-dead grandsons had toiled for years to produce. They had tried and tried again to breed so many girls who’d either killed themselves or otherwise failed to carry the ceremonial seed to full term. Finally, the Abbotts had succeeded, only to have the offspring stolen from them. Snatched away and hidden for over three decades.

The captor of the beast-child had kept it secretly confined. Coerced it somehow into an unnatural state of hibernation. But the infernal progenitor was meant to awaken forevermore and enact the Master’s plan: to fill the skies with winged death. It was time to set her beast-child free.

As she’d done years before, Agatha unfolded a lace handkerchief and picked out a few dark hairs and some fingernail parings she’d saved for thirty-four years. She scraped some flaky material from the clippings and brushed it all from her gnarled hands into a shard of broken crockery on the floor.

From the belt of her tattered dress, she pulled her kitchen knife and tested the blade with her thumb. Sharp as a razor. She sucked salty blood away.

The old woman grasped the kid by the nub of a horn and, with a deft motion, slashed its throat. The goat jumped once and then collapsed.

Agatha caught the hot, coppery blood in her withered hand and drizzled the dish’s contents with it. Outside, the wind moaned through the trees and buffeted the shack as if in answer.

“O wise Baphomet, I bring thee the hair of the woman, the skin of the man. Solve et coagula…” Agatha incanted the ancient spell, spilling three handfuls of blood upon the shard. She lifted a final draught to her lips, willing the darkness to be released once more.

“Come forth,” she croaked. “Come forth!”

Agatha licked her bloody hand, then raised it overhead.

“I command thee to come forth,” she cried, “and sing!”

 

Copyright 2023 Lee Allen Howard. All rights reserved.

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Lee Allen Howard writes dark fiction: horror, LGBTQ+ horror, supernatural crime, dark crime, dark mysteries, and psychological thrillers. And technical manuals. All terribly horrifying.

I’ve been a technical writer and publishing system administrator in the software industry since 1985. (Why do fiction writers pretend like they don’t have day jobs? I like to eat just like everyone else!) I also edit dark fiction and non-fiction projects. I’ve done book layout and publishing consultancy.

A long time ago I earned a bachelor’s in English from Indiana University of Pennsylvania. I also earned a Master of Arts in Biblical Studies from CI School of Theology and a Master of Fine Arts in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University.

Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

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Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

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$40 Amazon giftcard,

A copy of my short fiction collection Perpetual Nightmares,

A copy of my supernatural thriller Death Perception

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a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

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This Will Hurt II

by Cara Dee

 

(June 2nd 2023)
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, LGBTQ+, Romance

Part II of II Angst Awakening Friends to Lovers Family

Buckle in. Roe and Jake have mountains to climb, walls to tear down, and countless private moments to bring them even closer in this final part of their journey.

The ground beneath me had finally settled. I was content. I was all right. I could move forward and live with my choices.

Then I found Jake’s damn journal from… therapy. That was right. My best friend, who defined “man of few words,” was in therapy. The ground started shaking again. I got desperate. I got angry. I…almost lost him on the job when he saved my life.

Nothing was settled anymore.

Goodreads / Amazon

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Enjoy this peek inside:

What the fuck did you wear to a country concert?

I grabbed a pair of jeans and boxer briefs from the closet, then walked back into the bedroom and picked up my phone from my nightstand. I sent Jake a message.

I’m fresh out of chaps and cowboy hats. What should I wear, hoss?

While I waited for his response, I removed the towel around my hips and put on the boxers and jeans.

“Dada, I’m-wa no baff!”

I glanced over at the door as my boy ran in, with Sandra hot on his tail.

I grinned faintly and swooped him up. “Look out, we got a runner ova’ hea’.” I peppered his face with smooches, and he giggled up a storm. “You can’t escape bath time, baby boy. But you know what comes after, don’t you? Mommy’s gonna read you a story.”

“Nooo,” he complained.

“Yeees,” I mimicked.

Sandra sighed and smiled ruefully. “Let’s go, sweetie. We’ll get extra bubbles and everything.”

“Hear that? We love those bubbles.” I handed over the clinging monkey to her and pressed a kiss to the side of his head.

“I don’t wannaaa,” he whined.

Sandra carried him out, only to stop in the doorway and turn back to me. “You sure you don’t wanna cancel?”

Positive—and I wasn’t fighting with her about it again.

“I won’t be late,” was all I said.

The teasing glint in her eyes faded, and she walked out.

I released a breath.

My phone dinged on the nightstand, and I walked over and read Jake’s text.

I’ll tell you you’re pretty no matter what you wear, sugar.

I laughed silently and shook my head.

Helpful.

Whatever. I returned to the closet and dug out a long-sleeved tee that made my biceps look good. We were going to an outdoor place up in Griffith Park, so it was bound to get chilly. But I liked that it wasn’t a huge concert. Only some five thousand people. It beat going to the Staples Center.

Jake picked me up downstairs fifteen minutes later, and the most country thing about him continued to be his truck. It made no sense to drive a truck in LA. But he loved it, and I really had no room to argue choices of vehicles. I was still a laughingstock after buying a sports car before Casper was born. Worst deal ever. I’d probably lost twenty grand when I’d traded it in for a family-friendly SUV.

“Hey, pretty.” Jake pulled out from the curb. “I see you found clothes.”

“No thanks to you.” I smiled and buckled my seat belt. “Will I see a lot of chaps tonight?”

“If I drop you off in West Hollywood instead, I’m sure there’s a club for you.”

I laughed. Funny.

“Oh, this is a good one.” He cranked up the volume on the stereo. “He’ll probably play this tonight.”

I side-eyed him, more interested in studying Jake than hearing a song. There was something inherently sexy about how he drove. He made life look easy when he was on the road. One arm along the edge of the window, the sleeves of his open flannel shirt rolled up—some serious forearm porn going on—two fingers gripping the wheel loosely at the bottom. He tapped his foot to the rocky beat, and his lips moved subtly to the singer’s voice.

Ratty USMC ball cap on the dash. Since he always wore it backward, he took it off when a headrest was in the way.

Fitting lyrics, about holding on to things you believed in.

Of course, it being a country rock song, the topic was the singer’s truck.

“It’s the miles that make a man.”

How many miles till I fell out of love with him?

“I’d be nothing without you, so I’m holding on.”

Surprisingly, a line not about the truck.

“I’m not the openin’ act,” he chuckled. “Quit starin’.”

That was the fucking problem, wasn’t it? He was the headliner.

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Author Cara Dee

I’m often awkwardly silent or, if the topic interests me, a chronic rambler. In other words, I can discuss writing forever and ever. Fiction, in particular. The love story—while a huge draw and constantly present—is secondary for me, because there’s so much more to writing romance fiction than just making two (or more) people fall in love and have hot sex.

There’s a world to build, characters to develop, interests to create, and a topic or two to research thoroughly.

Every book is a challenge for me, an opportunity to learn something new, and a puzzle to piece together. I want my characters to come to life, and the only way I know to do that is to give them substance—passions, history, goals, quirks, and strong opinions—and to let them evolve.

I want my men and women to be relatable. That means allowing room for everyday problems and, for lack of a better word, flaws. My characters will never be perfect.

Wait…this was supposed to be about me, not my writing.

I’m a writey person who loves to write. Always wanderlusting, twitterpating, kinking, cooking, baking, and geeking. There’s time for hockey and family, too. But mostly, I just love to write.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook Page / Facebook Group / Twitter / Newletter / Bookbub / Instagram

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Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

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Kidnapped Killer

by Nina R Schluntz

Genre: LGBTQ Dark M/M Paranormal Romance

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One brief encounter and Jimena is determined to make Nic his at all costs. He wants him to be completely and utterly at his mercy. But, popular, gorgeous Nic doesn’t see Jimena. He is background material at best.
Until Jimena drugs him at a bar and ties him up in his basement.
If that didn’t get Nic’s attention, then the dozen or so bodies buried in the basement he’s tied up in does.
Nic feeds on souls. They taste better if they are flavored by strong emotion, usually fear or pain.
Jimena tastes different. His soul is flavored in obsessive love, focused on Nic. He’s never been loved by someone before, even if it is an unhealthy love and Jimena wants him dead. Not in a hateful way, but in a, I don’t want anyone else to have you, kind of way.
If only Nic could convince him to try being a normal boyfriend, he might be able to feed off Jimena’s soul for a few decades.
A deadly dance begins. A demon wanting to be loved and a serial killer wanting to kill his lover.
If they can find a balance, they might just find they’re perfect for each other.

**Get it FREE!!**

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Interview with Author Nina R. Schluntz

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When did you realize you wanted to be a writer?

 

I was holding a pen and scribbling gibberish from the start. Before I even knew how to write words, I was jotting down tales in a notebook I carried around. My earliest memories are of me in the backseat of the car, writing away, then getting annoyed later when I couldn’t read my notes, because it was just scribbles.

 

What is your favorite writing quirk (about yourself)?

 

I can stop writing in the middle of a sentence, then come back weeks or months later and pick right up where I’d stopped. My brain just has a pause button. I don’t take notes or anything either. The stories do change if I wait too long, but I can still pick up the paragraph or sentence from right where I left off.

 

What do you do when you are not writing?

 

The things most people do, watch tv or movies, read a good book. Recently I got into hydrangeas—I do not recommend them. They are up their with orchids in the care department, at least for us non-green thumb folks.

 

What is your favorite part of the writing process?

 

The brainstorming process is my favorite. When the stories and characters are just in my head. Once I start putting them on the pages, it turns into work. All that editing and such.

 

How do you know when a book is “the one” to write?

 

When I think of a scene that gives me a physical response. Whether crying or butterflies, if the idea makes me feel something, then I know it will for the readers too.

 

What do you think makes a good story?

 

The ones that give you that emotional kick in the gut. You need to get invested to the point you are hurting or cheering right along with the characters.

 

What comes first, for you, character or plot?

 

Scenes. There will usually be one scene that I think of, and then the whole story is written around bringing that pivotal moment to life.

 

What was the spark or inspiration for this story?

 

I have a friend who is a beta reader and he has always wanted me to write a vampire story. He loves vampires. I decided to make a reluctant pairing. A vampire who doesn’t want a mate, he has been scorned to many times. And a human man, who, like many of us, doesn’t think he can get pregnant. His attraction to the vampires actually repulses him and makes him want to fight them even more, giving people just cause to think he’s a vampire slayer.

 

The story includes three love stories. All three are reluctant pairings. One is a man who gets turned into a vampire, despite trying to avoid such a thing all his life. And the last is a woman who has not tested positive as someone who can be a surrogate, yet fate has other ideas.

 

How did you decide on the title of your book?

At first it was Vampire Dairi, but I figured no one would know what a Dairi is. Dairi is a substitute, proxy or agent. I went with Surrogate for a Vampire, so the readers would understand better.

 

Describe your book in five words (or less), and why?

 

Vampires need humans for reproduction.

 

And not in the traditional sense! The men can get the human women pregnant! You’ll have to read it to find out more.

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Nina Schluntz is a native to rural Nebraska. In her youth, she often wrote short stories to entertain her friends. Those ideas evolved into the novels she creates today.

Her husband continues to ensure her stories maintain a touch of realism as she delves into the science fiction and fantasy realm. Their three cats are always willing to stay up late to provide inspiration, whether it is a howl from the stray born in the backyard or an encouraging bite from the so called “calming kitten.”

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Bona Fides
Ash B. Whitley
Publication date: March 1st 2022
Genres: Adult, LGBTQ+, Science Fiction

With great power comes horrific possibilities…

Former child prodigy, Rowyn Miller, needs to prove her incarcerated and spiralling dad isn’t a murderer. It should be a piece of pish—she is his ‘victim’, after all.

One problem: not a soul has been able to see or hear her for 1,573 days.

Being a living ghost is hell. For starters, her available investigative methods leave Rowyn lagging miles behind the shadowy forces who set-up her dad. Plus, she’s desperate for a proper blether instead of the increasingly gloomy one-sided chats.

At least the creepy government scientists and unkillable terrorists can’t get their hands on her, though, and Rowyn will soon discover there are far worse ‘super’ powers she could have been lumbered with…

Goodreads / Amazon

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Enjoy this peek inside:

Interlude – Lecture Hall A, Linbury Building, Oxford University, 9th March 2015

Rowyn glanced around the unfamiliar lecture hall. This is a world away from physics. The lecturer was equally animated—bounding back and forth, throwing out interesting anecdotes—but the students were not. For a start, few had bothered turning up. Those that had, mostly opted for sleep, some relaxed enough to lie flat out on the leather bench. A bunch of people behind her hurriedly arranged a drug deal whilst broadcasting it to the rest of the theatre. I’m in a zoo.

Under normal circumstances, fifteen-year-old Rowyn would stick out like a sore thumb. She had done since her very first day at uni when christened ‘McDoogie Howser MD’ by one of the more influential mean girls. At least it sounded nicer than ‘jailbait’ though.

“Is it always so relaxed in here?” Rowyn asked, trying to keep the shock from her voice. The woman to her left didn’t respond and continued to take reams of notes in elegant cursive. “Oh, sorry. I don’t usually sit in Arts lectures.”

For three months and seventeen days, she had immersed herself in everything weird and wonderful physics and biochem could offer, in a futile attempt at working out what the flaming hell was going on. Not being able to turn pages or use a keyboard proved tricky. In short, being this was a complete bawache. So, with no clues to go on, Rowyn had opted to take a break.

“… and if you’ve ever met a Londoner, you’ll understand what I’m saying.”

Her companion let out a gentle laugh at the lecturer’s barb. The sound drew Rowyn’s attention, but not the usual pang in her chest she knew so well from her non-ghosty days. This was the third time now that she had sought the woman with the twinkly eyes and the warm smile. Aye, that’s not creepy at all. Following a pretty girl around town, like some kind of horror film boogeyman.

Soon realising her blatant ogling, the young genius cast her eyes downwards. Her neighbour continued listening, unaware. Rowyn turned her attention back to the lecturer and tried to follow her example.

“Hey!”

Rowyn turned towards the urgent whisper and gold-flecked eyes. The other woman had slid across the bench, so that it wouldn’t take much movement to meet the pink-glossed lips currently quirked in amusement. Or it wouldn’t do if Rowyn was really there.

“Excuse me, but you and your staring are extremely distracting.” The woman moved ever closer with each word.

Rowyn’s not-quite-dead heart kicked. “Y-you can see me?”

For the first time since this nightmare began, a way out lit up before her. The woman’s smile acted as a reviving shower, pattering across her dried-out husk of a person.

“Why are you even in here, anyway?”

Rowyn’s head was empty. “I’m um—”

“I missed you,” said an unexpected deep voice from Rowyn’s right.

The physicist watched as denim-clad legs slid through her own and took over her seat. With a strangled yelp, she jumped up and into the aisle. After three months and seventeen days of this, you would think her body would suppress the involuntary flinch. She doubted it would ever seem right having someone sitting on top of—well, through—her.

She looked at the happy couple whose heads were almost knocking together as they giggled over some private joke. Despite her face being devoid of sensation and her huffing lungs remaining numb, she knew that tears were streaming down her cheeks.

That smile wasn’t for you. 

Neither were the words. 

None of it will ever be for you.

You’re alone. 

Completely alone.

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Author Ash B. Whitley

Ash B. Whitley is an SFF and mystery writer, hailing from the North East of England. By day she works in Finance and by night (well, post-bedtime story) she hammers away on her keyboard, writing far-fetched stories of superheroes, spies and complex female characters. Although several varieties of nerd, her first love is comics.

Goodreads / Twitter / Amazon

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Politics Makes Strange Deadfellows

Kate Matthews Mystery Series Book 2

by Jane DiLucchio

Genre: Cozy LGBTQ Mystery

Kate Matthews expected to face challenges when she was elected to the Santa Barbara City Council. She hadn’t counted on her sister-in-law, Michelle, being one of them.

Kate understood that Michelle was mentally ill and periodically homeless. What she didn’t understand was why Michelle turned up in Santa Barbara only to disappeared again—until the police announced that Michelle was wanted in connection with a murder.

Wading through the morass of Michelle’s life in order to find out the truth while also handling Council politics and issues proves to be more complicated than Kate could ever have anticipated. When her wife and children become entangled in the quagmire, Kate finds out just how much she is willing to do to save her family.

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Going Coastal

Kate Matthews Mystery Series Book 1

A client dying on her massage table is traumatic enough for Kate Matthews, but when the police declare that death a homicide, her life is upended as she is cast as the major suspect.


None of this is what Kate expected from her move to the peaceful, beach town of Santa Barbara, California. After a near-fatal heart attack, an early retirement from her Los Angeles law firm, and a change in careers, Kate envisioned a quiet life with her wife, Alicia, and their grown children.


Since her client, Celia Tucker, held a politically-influential position on the California Coastal Commission, the murder becomes a media event. Kate finds herself and her family sucked into the maelstrom. The former lawyer has all she can do to find the truth behind Celia’s death without adding her own name to the body count.

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You’ve probably heard of pantsers verses plotters, i.e. writers who plan out their books (plotters) as opposed to those who start out with a vague idea of where the book is going. I definitely fall on the seat-of-your-pants side. In fact, my writing life began with a scene that played in my head so vividly that I was compelled to write it down. I had no idea who the people were or why they were dancing in the middle of a ballroom at a teacher’s conference, but there they were in my head, and now they were down on paper. That first scene I wrote ended up being in the middle of the story, absolute evidence that nothing in that novel was planned. I’m getting more organized in that I mostly write in the order that things happen in the book, but I don’t always know the victim or murderer before I start. Six published books into this adventure (Politics Makes Strange Deadfellows comes out in November), I am still surprised by what my characters do and say. Hopefully, it will always be that way.

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Jane DiLucchio is a late bloomer when it comes to writing.

She spent many years as a teacher (first elementary school and later at the community college level), massage therapist, and backyard farmer before giving in to the little voices that kept sounding off in her head.

Since there’s a thin line between a psychotic and a writer (psychotics try to convince everyone that the voices they hear are real; writers write it down and tell everyone its fiction), Jane finally decided to give in to the voices rather than undergo intensive psychotherapy.

Jane and her wife are raising their two cats in a loving home in Southern California. (Actually, the cats allow Jane and Sue to live with them in return for certain personal services, but that’s another story entirely.) Jane continues to raise crops, travel, write, and spend time with her friends and family – all activities she loves.

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Why Can’t Life Be Like Pizza?
The Pizza Chronicles Book 1
by Andy V. Roamer
Genre: YA LGBTQ Contemporary
RV is a good kid, starting his freshman year at the demanding Boston Latin School. Though his genes didn’t give him a lot of good things, they did give him a decent brain. So he’s doing his best to keep up in high school, despite all the additional pressures he’s facing: His immigrant parents, who don’t want him to forget his roots and insist on other rules. Some tough kids at school who bully teachers as well as students. His puny muscles. His mean gym teacher. The Guy Upstairs who doesn’t answer his prayers. And the most confusing fact of all—that he might be gay.Luckily, RV develops a friendship with Mr. Aniso, his Latin teacher, who is gay and always there to talk to. RV thinks his problems are solved when he starts going out with Carole. But things only get more complicated when RV develops a crush on Bobby, the football player in his class. And to RV’s surprise, Bobby admits he may have gay feelings, too.
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Why Can’t Freshman Summer Be Like Pizza?
The Pizza Chronicles Book 2
RV, having successfully completed his freshman year at the demanding Boston Latin School, is hoping for a great summer. He’s now fifteen years old and looking forward to sharing many languid summer days with his friend Bobby, who’s told him he has gay feelings too. But life and family and duties for a son of immigrant parents makes it difficult to steal time away with Bobby.
Bobby, too, has pressures. He spends part of the summer away at football camp, and his father pushes him to work a summer job at a friend’s accounting firm. Bobby takes the job grudgingly, wanting to spend any extra time practicing the necessary skills to make Latin’s varsity football team.
On top of everything, RV’s best friend Carole goes away for the summer, jumping at an opportunity to spend it with her father in Paris. Luckily, there is always Mr. Aniso, RV’s Latin teacher, to talk to whenever RV is lonely. He’s also there for RV when he inadvertently spills one of Bobby’s secrets, and Bobby is so angry RV is afraid he is ready to cut off the friendship.
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Andy V. Roamer grew up in the Boston area and moved to New York City after college. He worked in book publishing for many years, starting out in the children’s and YA books division and then wearing many other hats. WHY CAN’T LIFE BE LIKE PIZZA? is the first novel in THE PIZZA CHRONICLES. The books follow the exploits of RV, the teenage son of immigrants from Lithuania in Eastern Europe, as RV tries to negotiate the four years of his demanding high school, his budding sexuality, and new relationships. To relax, Andy loves to ride his bike, read, watch foreign and independent movies, and travel.
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