Sunday, May 5, 2024

New Book Release: The Summer Swap by Sarah Morgan


THE SUMMER SWAP

Author: Sarah Morgan

ISBN: 9781335474940

Publication Date: May 7, 2024

Publisher: Canary Street Press

18.99 US | 23.99 CAN

 

A recent widow’s plan to spend the summer in Cape Cod hiding from her interfering family is upended when she discovers her beach house has an unexpected guest, and the secret she's been keeping about her marriage threatens to be exposed. Perfect beach reading for fans of Taylor Jenkins Reid and Emily Henry.

70 year old widow Cecilia Lapthorne can’t bear the prospect of a family party to celebrate her birthday and the memory of her husband, famous artist Cameron Lapthorne. They had a toxic marriage but stayed together for the children, and bound by a big secret. She runs away to the Cape Cod seashore cottage she owned with Cameron--it’s where they first fell in love--but she hasn’t returned since she discovered him cheating on her there (for the first time). No one in her family knows about it, so she will be perfectly, delightfully alone for the summer.

Except struggling artist Lily has been secretly crashing on the sofa of the seashore cottage for the last couple of weeks. Unable to make rent after dropping out of medical school to pursue her dreams of becoming an artist and working as a housekeeper in Cecilia's Cape Cod enclave, she’s been illicitly camping at the cottage. Which isn’t a problem as it’s been unoccupied for years…until Cecilia unexpectedly shows up.

After the drama of discovering she has an unexpected house-guest has faded, Cecilia decides she’ll get along just fine with Lily for the summer. They form a tentative and powerful bond, based on shared love of art, but also the vulnerabilities they both share with each other. And when Todd, Cecilia’s beloved grandson (and the man who broke Lily’s heart in college) tracks her to the cottage, the three of them settle in for a summer of self-discovery, self-belief and second chances.

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Excerpted from The Summer Swap by Sarah Morgan. Copyright © 2024 by Sarah Morgan. Published by Canary Street Press.

Running away from her life wasn’t something she was proud of, but with a view this good it was hard to regret the decision.

Lily tightened her grip on the handlebars and pedaled harder. Here on the northern tip of Cape Cod while the rest of humankind were still sleepy and had barely reached for the coffeepot, the place was hers alone.

All around her were sand dunes and the ocean stretching as far as she could see. She cycled the same route every day, and every day was different. Today the sky was a deep kingfisher blue, but she’d seen burnt orange, flame red and smoky silver.

It was a place favored by migratory birds and tourists, and generally she preferred the first to the second. The day before, she’d seen a blue heron and two snowy egrets. As far as she was concerned the fewer humans the better, but she owed her current job to the influx of summer people, so she wasn’t complaining.

She breathed deeply, letting the salt air fill her lungs and her mind. She felt free here on this windblown, sunbaked strip of seashore. For the first time in months, she felt better. Stronger. As if she might survive after all. The pressure had eased. She no longer woke at two in the morning drenched in sweat and panic, trapped in her life and hating every moment.

She felt something close to happiness, and then her phone buzzed and the feeling left her in a rush.

She pedaled faster, trying to outrun its insistent demand. She didn’t have to look to identify the caller. It was ten in the morning exactly. Only one person called her routinely at that time.

Dammit.

Guilt and an unshakable sense of duty made her squeeze the brakes and she pulled over, breathless, and dug out her phone. If she didn’t take the call now, she’d be taking it later and the thought of it looming in her future would darken the skies of an otherwise cloudless day. This was the price she had to pay for running away. You could run, but with today’s technology you couldn’t really hide.

“Lily, honey? It’s Mom.”

She closed her eyes briefly.

She’d been expecting this call, ever since she’d declined their invitation to come home and “talk things over.” As if talking it over yet again would change the outcome.

Every time she saw her mother’s name pop up on her phone screen her stomach churned. Guilt sank its fangs into all the soft, vulnerable parts of her. Her parents had made huge sacrifices for her, and she’d as good as slapped them in the face. And she hadn’t even given them a reason. At least, not one they could understand.

They deserved better.

“I’m on my way to work, Mom. I can’t be late.” Never had dirty pots and pans and other people’s laundry seemed more appealing. She’d rather deal with that any day than talk to her mother. Every conversation dragged her backward and left her so twisted with guilt she lost all confidence in her chosen path. “Is everything all right?”

“No. We’re worried about you, Lily.” Her mother’s tone was shaky. “We don’t understand what’s going on. Why won’t you tell us?”

Lily tightened her grip on the phone. “Nothing is going on. And you don’t need to worry.” She repeated the same words she’d said hundreds of times, even though they never seemed to settle.

“Can you blame us for worrying? We have a bright, brilliant daughter who has chosen to throw away the life she worked hard for. And with no reason.”

No reason? As if it had been a whim. As if she’d woken up one morning and decided to waste all those years of hard work just for a laugh.

“I’m fine. This is what I want.”

It wasn’t that her parents weren’t wonderful people, but communicating with them was impossible.

“Are you eating? Have you put on some weight? You were skin and bone when you left here.”

“I’m eating. I’m sleeping. I’m good. How are you and Dad?”

“We miss you, obviously. Come home, Lily. We can cook for you, and spoil you and look after you.”

Anxiety settled on her like a cloak, blocking out sunshine and her hopes for the day.

She knew what going home would mean. She loved her parents, but they’d hover over her with frowning concerned faces until she’d end up worrying more about them than herself. And then she’d do things she didn’t want to do, just to please them.

And it wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried staying at home. She’d done that in the beginning (mostly because her options were limited) and the pressure of pretending to be okay had been exhausting.

“I’m happy, Mom. I just need some space. It’s beautiful here. You know I always loved the ocean.”

“I know. I remember when you were six years old, and we couldn’t drag you away from the sandcastle you’d built.” There was a pause. “Honey, Dad made some calls. He thinks it’s not too late for you to go back to medical school if you want to.”

Lily’s heart started to pound. The sweat of anxiety threatened to become a full-blown panic attack. Her chest tightened. Her hands shook so badly the phone almost slipped from her fingers.

Interference, even well-meaning interference, should be designated a crime.

“I don’t want to. I know you and Dad are disappointed—”

“It’s not about us, it’s about you. We tried so hard to give you all the opportunities we didn’t have.”

Lily stared at the ocean and tried to find her inner calm, but it had fled the moment the phone had rung.

They’d made huge sacrifices for her, and she’d thrown it in their faces. She felt terrible. But staying would have made her feel worse.

“This is difficult for me, too, Mom.” The lump in her throat made it difficult to speak. “I know I’m hurting you and I hate it, but this is where I want to be. I can’t be a doctor. I want to be an artist.”

“You say that, but you’re cleaning houses.”

“To earn money while I try to find a way to do something I love.” While she tried to loosen the knots of stress in her body and untangle the mess in her head. “There’s nothing wrong with cleaning houses. I like it. And it’s a respectable way to make a living. You did it.”

“Because I didn’t have the opportunities you had.”

Lily felt guilt overwhelm her.

Her mother sighed. “Do you need money? We still have some savings.”

And she knew just how hard it would have been for her parents to pull that together after everything they’d already spent on her. She’d vowed never to take another cent from them.

“I don’t need money but thank you.” She didn’t want to think about the dire state of her bank account. She was determined to manage on her own now, no matter what.

“Lily—” her mother’s voice was gentle “—your father would kill me for asking because I know I’m not supposed to ask, but did something happen, honey? Did someone hurt you? Your dad and I always thought you’d make a wonderful doctor. You’re such a kind, caring person.”

“Nothing like that.” Lily’s throat burned. She badly wanted this conversation to end. “Could we talk about something else?”

“Of course. Let me think…not much has happened here. Your father has been busy in the garden.” Her mother spoke in a cheery I’m changing the subject to a safe topic voice. “The hydrangeas are beginning to bloom. They’re going to be stunning. I made the most delicious orange cake last week. No wheat. You know your father. Ground almonds instead of flour.”

“Sounds yummy.” She imagined them at home together and felt a pang. Despite everything, she missed them. Part of her just wanted to run home and be looked after but she knew that feeling would dissipate the moment she walked through the door. Within minutes the bands of pressure would tighten, and she’d be gasping for breath.

“I’m sure there was something I wanted to tell you.” Her mother paused. “What was it? Oh, I remember—I bumped into Kristen Buckingham last week. She’s always so charming and friendly. So normal.”

The last person Lily wanted to think about now was anyone with the name Buckingham.

“Why wouldn’t she be friendly and normal, Mom?” Lily knew how self-conscious her mother was around her friends and she hated it. It reminded her of being back at school and feeling like an imposter.

Her parents had scrimped and saved and worked multiple jobs in order to send her to the best school. They’d believed she’d have a great education and make influential friends. She would absorb their greater advantages by osmosis. It would be her ticket to a better life. They imagined her living her life in a bubble of success, mixing with people whose parents owned mansions and yachts and jets. People whose fridges were loaded with food and never had to worry about making it stretch to the end of the week. People who had drivers, and housekeepers, and staff who cleared the snow from their yard.

And she had met people like that, but most of the time Lily had felt like a stray dog that had somehow wriggled its way into a litter of pedigrees. She’d been afraid to reveal anything about her background, because she knew it was different from theirs. She’d masked her true self because she’d known that she didn’t fit. Despite her attempts to blend, she’d been badly bullied. To make things worse she’d also felt crushed by the pressure of work and parental expectation. To fail would have been to let them down, these people she loved so much and who loved her back. They’d half killed themselves to give her the opportunity. She couldn’t let herself fail.

Panic had hovered close to the surface the whole time, threatening to suffocate her. The only thing that had driven her from her bed in the mornings was the knowledge of her parents’ sacrifice and their pride in her. She hadn’t felt able to tell them how unhappy she was, or that locking herself in a cubicle while having a panic attack didn’t feel like success to her.

She’d been thoroughly miserable until the day Hannah Buckingham had rescued her from a bully who was trying to remove her ponytail with a pair of scissors. After that, everything changed.

Hannah was the granddaughter of the famous artist Cameron Lapthorne. She was a champion of the underdog. She had a fierce urge to protect anything threatened. She wanted to save the whales, and Sumatran tigers, and Antarctica. Lily was added to the list, and they’d become best friends from that moment. Hannah had said Lily was the sister she’d never had. Hannah hadn’t cared about the differences between their household incomes. Hannah hadn’t cared that Lily didn’t have her own bathroom, or a housekeeper to keep her room tidy, or tutors to make sure her grades were the best they could possibly be. Hannah had found Lily interesting. Hannah had wanted to know everything about Lily. She’d wanted to access her every thought. For the first time in her life, Lily had been able to be herself.

They’d been inseparable. Protected by Hannah, the bullying had stopped and Lily had flourished. With Hannah as her friend, her confidence had grown. She’d no longer felt like a misfit.

They’d gone to the same college where they’d both studied biological sciences and then they’d applied to the same medical school. When her acceptance letter arrived, Lily’s parents had cried. They’d been so proud and thrilled. It was the happiest day of their lives.

Lily had been happy and relieved that she’d achieved their goals. That she was everything her parents wanted her to be. That she hadn’t let them down. For a brief moment she’d believed that maybe she could do this.

But medical school had turned out to be a thousand times worse than school. She was surrounded by people who were brilliant, ambitious and competitive.

When the pressure started to crush her brain again, she tried to ignore it. She was going to be fine. She’d survived this far. There were many different branches of medicine. She’d find one that suited her.

It didn’t help that Hannah had no doubts at all. She’d known from the start that she wanted to be a surgeon like her father, Theo. Hannah wanted to save lives. She wanted to make a difference.

On the few occasions she’d met him, Lily had found Theo to be terrifying or maybe it was more accurate to say that she found his reputation terrifying.

Hannah’s mother, Kristen, was equally intimidating. She was an art expert, a whirlwind of brisk efficiency with a life so busy it was a wonder she fitted in time to breathe.

And then there was Hannah’s older brother, Todd, who was smart, handsome and kind, and the object of lust among all Hannah’s friends. Lily was no exception. Teenage Lily had fantasized about Todd. Twenty-three-year-old Lily had kissed Todd in a dark corner during a school reunion.

Lily was in love with Todd, but now Todd was dating Amelie.

Lily had trained herself not to think about Todd.

“I just mean that Kristen is very important, Lily, that’s all,” her mother said. “But she always takes the time to talk to me when I see her.”

“She’s just a person, Mom. A person like the rest of us.”

“Well, not really like the rest of us,” her mother said. “Her father was Cameron Lapthorne. I don’t pretend to know anything about art, but even I know his name.”

Hannah had taken her to the Lapthorne Estate once. It had been the best day of Lily’s life. She’d gazed at the paintings hungrily, studying every brushstroke, in awe of the skill and envious of anyone who could build a life as an artist. Hannah had given her a book of her grandfather’s work, and it had become Lily’s most treasured possession. She’d thumbed the pages, studied the pictures and slept with it under her pillow.

Ever since she was old enough to hold a paintbrush, Lily had loved art. She’d painted everything in sight. When she’d run out of paper, she’d painted on the walls. She’d painted her school bag and her running shoes. She’d said to her parents I want to be an artist, and for a while they’d looked worried. They’d told her no one made money that way and that she was smart enough to be a doctor or a lawyer. Lily knew how much they wanted that for her, and she knew how much they’d sacrificed. She couldn’t bring herself to disappoint them. And so she had dutifully gone to medical school, underestimating the toll it would take on her.

“Lily? Are you still there?”

Lily tugged herself back into the present. “Yes. So how was Kristen?”

“Busy as ever. She was in the middle of organizing a big event at the Lapthorne Estate. Celebrating her mother’s birthday and her grandfather, the artist. It’s happening today, I think. Todd will be there with his fiancée—I forget her name. Amelie, that’s right. And Hannah will be there of course. Kristen invited us, and you, which was generous of her.”

Fiancée?

Lily started to shake. “Todd is engaged?”

“Yes. A bit of a whirlwind according to Kristen. They’d only been dating for a few months, and she thought it was casual. Had no idea it was serious and then suddenly they announce that they’re getting married. I’m sure that wedding will be quite an event. Kristen said it was yet another thing for her to organize, although I don’t understand why the responsibility would fall on her. She’s such an impressive woman.”

Lily wasn’t thinking about Kristen. Lily was thinking about Todd.

She imagined Todd in the gardens of Lapthorne Manor with a glass of champagne in his hand, and Amelie gazing up at him with that flirtatious look that fused men’s brains and made them do stupid things, a large diamond glinting on her finger.

Amelie had been the most popular girl in the school. She’d had the highest marks, the fastest time on the running track and the biggest smile. Amelie was the girl most likely to succeed. She was also the girl who had tried to cut off Lily’s ponytail with a pair of scissors. And now she was marrying Todd. Kind, funny, clever Todd.

Todd had broken Lily’s heart, and he didn’t even know it.

Her palms felt sweaty as she tried to focus on the call. “Are you going to the party?”

“No, of course not. Your father wouldn’t know what to say and I wouldn’t know what to wear. They’re your friends really, not ours. Kristen mentioned that Hannah is enjoying her clinical rotation, but you probably know that as she’s your best friend.”

Lily didn’t know that. Lily and Hannah hadn’t spoken since that terrible fight on the night Lily had packed her bags and left medical school for good.

Every time Lily thought of Hannah she wanted to cry. They’d sworn that nothing and no one would ever come between them, and they’d truly believed that.

They’d been wrong.

“I must go, Mom. I’ll be late for work, and I don’t want to let people down.” She winced as she said it, because she was all too aware that she’d let her parents down. “Don’t worry. I’m happy. I like my life.”

“We don’t want you to waste your talents, honey, that’s all. You’re capable of so much. You could be curing cancer—”

Curing cancer? No pressure, then.

“I hated medical school.” The words spilled out of her. “It wasn’t for me.” And the pressure of trying to keep up had almost broken her. She didn’t expect them to understand. They believed that if you were smart enough to be a doctor, why wouldn’t you be one? And she couldn’t figure out how to make her parents proud, but still live the life she wanted to live. “I want to be an artist, Mom. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. You know that.”

“I know, but where’s the future in that? Your dad and I just don’t want you to struggle financially as we did. Life can be hard, Lily.”

Lily closed her eyes. She knew that. She knew how hard life could be.

“I’m managing fine. And I’m going to pay you and Dad back.”

“That’s not necessary, honey. We love you and remember there’s a home and a welcome here whenever you need it.”

Lily’s throat felt full. It would be easier to disappoint them if they weren’t so decent. If she didn’t love them so much. “Thanks. Give my love to Dad.”

She ended the call, wondering why big life decisions had to feel so difficult and wondering why, when there were so many people her mother could have bumped into, she’d had to bump into Kristen Buckingham.

Her little bubble of happiness had been punctured.

Todd was engaged. He was going to marry Amelie, and no doubt they’d have two perfect children and a dog and live a long and happy life with not a single bump in the road.

But she wasn’t going to think about that now. And she wasn’t going to think about Hannah. Twice in the last few months she’d almost texted her. Once she’d even typed out a message, but then she’d deleted it. Hannah had been furiously angry with her, and Lily had been angry with Hannah. They’d both been hurt, and Lily had no idea how to move past that hurt. Given that she hadn’t heard from Hannah, presumably she didn’t know, either.

The friendship that they’d believed could never be damaged, had been damaged. Broken. Amelie might as well have taken her scissors to it.

But that was in the past now.

Hannah was living in the city, and Lily was here on the Cape, and even though she’d brought all her emotions with her it was still preferable to being in the smothering atmosphere of her parents’ home. And at least it had been her decision to come here. For the first time ever, she was living the life that was her choice.

She just wished it felt easier.


 

Author Bio:

Sarah Morgan is a USA Today and Sunday Times bestselling author of contemporary romance and women's fiction. She has sold more than 21 million copies of her books and her trademark humour and warmth have gained her fans across the globe. Sarah lives with her family near London, England, where the rain frequently keeps her trapped in her office. Visit her at www.sarahmorgan.com

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Friday, May 3, 2024

Discover The Brotherhood Vol. 1 by Willa Okati Today!

 

Title:  The Brotherhood Vol. 1

Author: Willa Okati

Publisher: Changeling Press

Release Date: May 2, 2024

Heat Level: 4 - Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 294 pages

Genre: Action Adventure, Box Sets, Dark Fantasy, New Releases, Paranormal Women's Fiction, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Urban Fantasy

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Synopsis

Welcome to Amour Magique, where gay paranormals come to find love…

Amour Magique – the notorious sex club owned by Liam, an incubus. His friends call themselves The Brotherhood. The Brothers have the perennial problem of gay men everywhere: finding a hottie who doesn’t turn out to be a loser or abuser. They’re down on their luck, and looking for love in all the wrong places.

Bite Me -- Tattoos. Piercings. Leather. Attitude. Do anything, say anything, and damn the consequences. That’s Bree of the Brotherhood, and he’s not about to apologize for a thing.

The Dragon’s Tongue -- Collin was born with the power to make men burn with lust. He’s been burned himself, though, and now he’s  working himself into an early grave. Might just be worth the trip if he can get it right this time.

Good Luck Piece -- Conned into putting in an appearance at the notorious sex club, Amour Magique, Simon holes up in a shoddy bar aptly called Last Chance. Then an Irish stranger with flashing green eyes and a mouth made for wickedness buys him a drink…

Excerpt

The Brotherhood Vol. 1
Willa Okatif
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2024 Willa Okati
Excerpt from Amour Magique

Silence. Intense silence. Chilly air smelling of pine and citrus rushed through painfully neat rooms and corridors, whisking over nothing but bare furniture and knickknacks free of dust. Surfaces sparkled, yet had an opacity that lacked any élan vital. Solemn strains of a Beethoven requiem filled the air.

This was a place where happiness went to die.

In one room, though, a spark of life remained. A scented candle, fragrant with bayberry and red as blood, crackled to life in the semi-darkness. It passed from hand to hand, lighting taper after taper in a circle, until twelve flares of light burned brightly in the gloom. Each candle, held tightly or cautiously in a strong male hand, was lifted high in a circle as the men holding them glanced at one another, took a simultaneous deep breath, and chanted:

“Long live the Brotherhood. May our harmony and companionship be a beacon in the darkness of an unfriendly world. Let the Brotherhood bring light to the murky corners and sweep away the shadows of hostility.”

Again, they glanced at each other. Faint smiles lifted the corners of mouths plump and thin, narrow and wide.

“Here are the bylaws of the Brotherhood, long may they live. Act smart. Look cool. Share your prick, not your heart. Long live the Brotherhood!”

Smothered laughter broke out as all twelve men tilted their bayberry candles toward a vast central pillar and set its many wicks alight.

“So let it be done,” intoned the man in the position of leader. “So may it be.”

Silence filled the air for a long moment.

Then the doorbell chimed.

“Hot damn -- food’s here!” Micah, closest to the door, jumped up, shoved his candle into a holder, and, with a deft flick of a switch, turned the chandelier lighting on in the main room. “Who ordered tonight? David? What did you get -- Chinese or Thai?”

“Chinese,” David called as he put his taper into another holder, as did the other men. “Moo shu pork, egg rolls, wonton soup, sweet-and-sour chicken, beef with broccoli, sesame beef, General Tso’s, cashew chicken, lo mein --”

“Holy fuck, David! We’re not an army!”

“-- and dessert, too.” He blushed a little. “Well, you guys always say there’s never enough when someone else orders. I figured I’d get plenty.”

“Yeah, plenty of food, since that’s all you’re getting,” retorted Micah.

“Not nice,” Simon, their leader, rebuked, folding his hands. “And would you open the door before the nice delivery gentleman thinks we’re either crazy or not at home and goes away?”

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I’m on my way.” Micah smoothed his indigo silk shirt more neatly into his tight-cut jeans, ruffled a hand through his hair, and swung the door open. A delighted grin split his face. “Hwong Li! How did they know to send you? Was it just for me?”

“You are a horn dog,” the young Asian man retorted. His arms overflowed with boxes. “I drew the short straw.”

“There is nothing short about me.”

“So you say. Ninety-three ninety, please.”

“Ninety-three -- David, how much food did you order?” Micah turned, hands on his hips. “It’s obvious you don’t care, but some of us are watching our figures.”

David blushed a deep, dusky red. “I just wanted to get enough --”

“You got enough, all right. Lose about ten, and maybe you’d get something else, too.”

“Gentlemen!”

“All right, all right.” Micah folded his arms. “I’m not paying for all this myself, men. Pony up the cash.” All around the room, men dug into their pockets. David produced a twenty and handed it over, his cheeks still pink. Micah snatched all the cash, counting it with a quick hand before passing over a hundred dollars. He riffled the bills in front of Hwong’s eyes, letting him count the cash, before cracking a nasty smile and slipping the money into the delivery boy’s front pants pocket.

His fingers lingered.

“Why, Hwong, do I feel a spring roll in there?”

“Your touch would make bamboo soft.”

“Prick!”

“Yes. But not on the market for one such as yourself.”

“Fuck you.” Micah jerked his hand away as if he’d been burned. “Keep the change.”

Hwong Li regarded him disdainfully. “Shitty tip.”

“You want a tip? Don’t insult me next time.”

“Aw, come on,” the youngest of their group piped up. “Hwong’s a hottie. Treat him with the r-e-s-p-e-c-t a sister, uh, brother deserves.”

Hwong glanced past Micah. “Hello, Christian. Got a kiss for me?”

“You bet.” Christian dug into the pocket of his hooded sweatshirt and pulled out a handful of chocolate drops. He unwrapped them. “Here, catch!”

Hwong did a nifty little seal impersonation and snaffled every treat in his mouth as they flew through the air.

“Someday, I’ll give you the real thing,” Christian teased.

“You wish you were so lucky.” Hwong stuffed the boxes of food into Micah’s arms, leaving him no choice but to grab them or drop them. “Night, ladies.”

“Asshole!”

“No, that’s your specialty.” Hwong turned and walked away.

Micah kicked the door shut and moved somewhat awkwardly toward the table in the center of the circle they’d sat in earlier. “Does someone want to help me with this? Simon? Laurence? Bree?”

“Nope!”

“You’re on your own.”

“No way.”

“You’ll sure as hell eat it, though.” Micah dumped the boxes down. “Fine, then. Chow down, but leave me the plain white rice.” He patted his flat stomach. “I don’t want to get a pot belly.”

“You’re in about as much danger of getting fat as you are of getting anything else,” Alex said bluntly as he flopped down in a chair and reached for a container marked Lemongrass Chicken Special. “Pot, kettle, black?”

“I don’t see you bragging about your conquests.” Micah’s voice was prickly.

“Honestly! Hwong wasn’t far wrong in calling you ladies. Quentin, you and Harrison get the beer and wine. The rest of you, sit.”

“Aye, aye, Simon!”

Micah sat in the middle of a buttery-soft leather couch and crossed his legs. “I think you’re all carrying this whole Brotherhood thing too far… or not far enough. Help each other out, everyone doing their part… then it all lands on someone like me.”

A slight, lithe, curly-haired man who had not spoken as yet murmured, “You need each other, Micah. Such is the purpose to this group.” He toyed with a blue crystal that dangled from a chain around his neck. “Even you need these others, deny it as you will.”

Micah regarded the man with distaste. “All I need, Liam, is one good night on the town with a decent fuck who knows how to treat a man.”

A youngish, multi-pierced man flopped down on the couch beside them. “You want a man who’ll treat you like a god.”

“So what if I do?” Micah retorted. “You just want anyone who knows how to make the bedsprings bounce, Bree.”

“Yeah, and?” Bree reached for some extra-spicy General Tso’s. “At least it’s been less than a year for me.”

“Not by much.”

“Liar, liar, pants not on fire.”

Simon sighed and rolled his eyes to heaven. “Enough! No one else says a word until we’ve eaten. I invoke Brotherhood Head status.”

“Yeah, you wish you could get some head,” Bree muttered.

However, despite his defiance, he fell silent, as did the rest of the men. Falling into place on chairs, divans, and sofas, they dug into the hot Asian food. Small moaning noises of pleasure filled the air as rich spices and tangy flavors crossed eager tongues, and sighs of satisfaction were heard as one or another discovered a favorite among the boxes and cartons. Even David, picking at white rice himself, found the courage to reach for a packet of soy sauce and then, with a shy glance up, took a vegetarian egg roll.
Purchase

Changeling Press | Amazon | Kobo | iTunes | Smashwords

Meet the Author

Willa Okati (AKA Will) is made of many things: imagination, coffee, stray cat hairs, daydreams, more coffee, kitchen experimentation, a passion for winter weather, a little more coffee, a whole lot of flowering plants and a lifelong love of storytelling. Will's definitely one of the quiet ones you have to watch out for, though he -- not she anymore -- is a lot less quiet these days.

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One lucky winner will receive a $10.00 Changeling Press Gift Code! 


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Wednesday, May 1, 2024

Book Spotlight/Giveaway: Seven Days at Mannerly

 


Check out the newest book by Audrey Schuyler Lancho, Seven Days at Mannerly, today. Make sure to enter the tour wide giveaway as the author is giving one lucky person a $20 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner. The tour is sponsored by Goddess Fish Promotions and you can find all the tour stops HERE.



SEVEN DAYS AT MANNERLEY

Audrey Schuyler Lancho

Historical Romance


The suitcase she found changed everything. The contents? An elegant dress and an invitation in another girl's name. Twenty-three-year-old Mary would go to the ball, enjoy how the rich lived just for one night, and then quietly slip back into her real life, sorting rubbish as a poor barmaid. No harm done. Of course, there wouldn't be much of a story to tell had it turned out that way.

 

It's 1870 in rural England, and Mary assumes the identity of the suitcase owner, Agnes. When Mary's one night at Mannerley estate turns into a seven-day, hilarious farce, she quickly makes friends, finds suitors, and keeps fibbing. Not only does Arthur, the heir himself, fall for her, but so, too, does Mr. Singh, his friend visiting from India, making advances in plain sight of the heir. Making matters worse, a former workmate recognizes Mary and extorts her: she must steal a golden watch from the heir for him or have her true identity exposed and risk being thrown in jail, which could mean death--and that would certainly ruin her stolen, er, borrowed ball gown.

 

The only way Mary can get close enough to Arthur to steal his watch is via sensuality and flirtation. But as Mary scrambles to cover her tracks, her lies and crimes compound, weaving themselves into an impossible tangle. All the while Agnes, the real owner of the fancy ball gown, is making her way ever-closer to Mannerley. 

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Excerpt One:

 

She swung the door open, pocketing her key, and grabbed the corner of her dress and held it to walk. Arthur was standing a short way off by the stairs where he had been waiting for her, every golden hair perfectly combed. His pocket watch’s chain glistened on his vest in the lamplight. He heard her and turned to face her.

 

“Your hair. It’s wild.”

 

“I’m sorry, I slept too long.”

 

“I like it,” he said almost too quietly, a bit raspy, and she took his arm. Once again, she was his object, and she didn’t know quite what to make of it.


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AUTHOR Bio and Links: 

Audrey has always written stories. Her very first picture book which she wrote in early elementary school was about a mean, grumpy tooth fairy. Her first “novel”, bound using a cardboard cereal box, was written in the fourth grade. By high school, she was writing secret novels of her own, usually naming her characters by her own initials. By her twenties, she knew that writing was her calling––and she’s so glad you’re reading her debut romance!

 

Audrey lives in North Carolina with her Spaniard husband and two young sons, is completely bilingual in Spanish, and enjoys church, crochet, jigsaw puzzles, time with friends, yoga, and funny movies. She’s a freelance fiction editor on Upwork, an editor at a literary agency. She also writes contemporary romance under the name Audrey Lancho. Her debut contemporary is due out in May 2025 from Harpeth Road. You can learn more about Audrey by visiting www.audreylancho.com and signing up for her newsletter––she promises not to spam you; she’ll just inform you of big happenings and new releases. Audrey also enjoys connecting with readers and other authors on X/Twitter and Instagram (@audreylancho).

 

AUTHOR LINKS: 

Website/Newsletter: www.audreylancho.com/connect

Amazon Author: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Audrey-Schuyler-Lancho/author/B0CSGN9RVG

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/47903487.Audrey_Schuyler_Lancho

Upwork (editorial services): https://www.upwork.com/freelancers/~016edfde2663d23587

https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61550654740294

Twitter: https://twitter.com/audreylancho

Instagram: https://instagram.com/audreylancho


Tuesday, April 30, 2024

Book Spotlight/Giveaway: On the Threshold

 


Check out this New To Me Author, M. Laszlo's new book, On the Threshold, today. Make sure to check out the tour wide giveaway as well as the author is giving away a $25 Amazon/BN.com gift card to one lucky reader. The tour is sponsored by Goddess Fish Promotion and you can find all the tour stops HERE.

Chatting with M. Laszlo

If you could have one paranormal ability, what would it be?

It’d be great to be able to touch an inanimate object and to automatically learn that object’s history.

 

What is one thing your readers would be most surprised to learn about you?

My writing includes an obsessive attention to details and little things, so people might presume me to be a rather acquisitive person. In point of fact, though, I own almost nothing.

 

When writing descriptions of your hero/ine, what feature do you start with?

It’s best to begin with deciding just what it is the character wants. Kurt Vonnegut says that every character should want something, even if it’s just a glass of water.

 

Are you a plotter or a pantser?

Careful plotting and awareness of structure are absolutely crucial. If you plot and maintain structure, you are a writer. If not, you’re little more than a typist. Writing is not typing. In saying that, of course, I’m referring to Truman Capote’s famous criticism of Jack Kerouac.

 

Did you learn anything from writing this book? If so, what?

I learned that one ought to follow strict form but not let structure and form take the reader to a predictable place. By experimenting with form and structure, the storyteller can lead the reader in circles. And that’s necessary for a story about someone struggling to learn something. By going around and around in circles, my protagonist echoes the frustrations of any and all of us.


On the Threshold

by M. Laszlo

GENRE: Historical Science Fiction

Buy HERE

Obsessed with learning the origins of the cosmos, the actual meaning of life, and the true purpose of civilization, a fine Scotsman named Fingal T. Smyth dedicates himself to the study of Plato’s most extraordinary ideas. Convinced of Plato’s belief that humankind possesses any and all innate knowledge deep within the collective unconscious mind, Fingal soon conducts a series of bold, pioneering occult-science experiments by which to resolve the riddle of the universe once and for all. However, Fingal forgets how violent and perilous the animal impulses that reside in the deepest recesses of the unconscious mind. And when Fingal unleashes a mysterious avatar of his innate knowledge, the entity appears as a burning man and immediately seeks to manipulate innocent and unsuspecting people everywhere into immolating themselves. Now, with little hope of returning the fiery figure into his being, Fingal must capture his nemesis before it destroys the world.

 

Excerpt Two:

 

Fräulein Wunderwaffe did not return the smile. Hand on heart, the little girl drew a bit closer. Then, as the hot, animalistic presence undulated all across Fingal’s body, the little girl’s eyes grew wide. Until the little girl’s expression turned to that of a vacant stare.

 

A moment later, her feet pointed inwards, she removed her hat and undid her long, flaxen hair.

 

Again, he cringed. “If you’ve noticed something, ignore all. This hasn’t got anything to do with you.” A third time, he cringed.

 

A most ethereal, lyrical, incomprehensible hiss commenced then: from the other end of the winding, decorative-brick driveway, each clay block shining the color of blue Welsh stone, a sleek Siamese cat with a coat of chocolate-spotted ivory had just appeared. And now the creature raced toward his shadow.

 

As he looked into the animal’s big, searching, blue eyes, the chocolate Siamese studied the off-center tip of his nose. Then the animal turned away, as if to compare the peculiarity with that of some disembodied visage hovering in the distance.

 

Out upon the loch, meanwhile, a miraculous rogue wave suddenly arose—and now the swell crashed against the pebbly strand.

 

Not a moment later, a cool flame crawled across Fingal’s throat. The strange fire rattled, too—not unlike the sound of fallen juniper leaves caught up in the current and dancing against the surface of a stone walkway.

 

Crivens. By now, the alien, pulsating presence held him so tight that he could barely breathe. Before long, he fell to the earth, and as the dreamlike flame continued to move across his throat, he rolled all about—until the illusory sensation of cool warmth wriggled and twisted and dropped into his neck dimple.

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AUTHOR Bio and Links: 


M. Laszlo is an aging recluse who lives in Bath, Ohio. Rumor holds that his pseudonym is a reference to Victor Laszlo, a character in the classic film Casablanca. On the Threshold is his first release with the acclaimed, Australian hybrid house AIA Publishing. Oddly, M. Laszlo insists that his latest work, On the Threshold, does in fact provide the correct answer to the riddle of the universe. 


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