Showing posts with label fantasy m/m. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fantasy m/m. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 12, 2016

Discover the Curse of Salar and win an e-book!


Discover Alexis Duran's Curse of Salar and enter the giveaway to have a chance to win e-copies of the first two books in the series. The contest ends on January 19th. The tour is sponsored by Pride Promotions.

Now let's check out Alexis Duran's Curse of Salar....


Publisher: Loose ID
Cover Artist:Fiona Jayde
Series: Masters and Mages
Book: Three
Book can be read as a standalone 
Release Date: January 5, 2016 


Into his lonely existence comes a man who should be his sworn enemy; Captain Rayn Nevar.  Dezra is irresistibly drawn to the rough soldier and his longing for a simple sexual encounter quickly builds into a dangerous obsession.

Captain Rayn Nevar knows he should stay away from Prince Dezra, but his desire for the beautiful young man overrides all common sense. Rayn soon finds himself protecting the prince from a plot to destroy the last of the mages.

When treachery leads to Dezra's escape, he is at last free to unlock his long repressed powers.  Only the arrival of a mysterious monk with powers greater than Dezra's stops the prince from using sorcery to destroy all who stand in his way, including Rayn.

As Jahar edges toward another war between masters and mages, Rayn must question his devotion to his increasingly deadly lover while Dezra must decide if ultimate power is worth the ultimate sacrifice. 


Pages or Words: 82,000 words

Categories: Fantasy, Fiction, Gay Fiction, M/M Romance

Excerpt:
"Kneel."
"What?" Dezra asked, incredulous.
"You heard me."
Nevar stripped off his silk shirt and tossed it aside. The sight of his finely sculpted chest arrested the biting retorts that leaped to Dezra's tongue. The captain's skin was smooth and slicked with sweat. A fine trail of curly black hair began at his sternum and disappeared beneath the line of his belt.
Dezra forced his gaze up to discover to Nevar smirking at him. Before Nevar could summon an insult to put the captain in his place, Nevar sat on the bed.
"Help me with my boots. Or is that beneath you, Prince?"
Nevar leaned back with his arms behind him, weight resting on his palms. He stuck one foot out. The languid expanse of his body beckoned.



Meet the author:
Alexis Duran was born and raised in the Pacific Northwest. At the University of Oregon, her fascination with people and relationships led her to major in Sociology, but her main love has always been creative writing.  She's worked in museums, fashion, finance and film production. Her favorite job so far was inventorying the collection in a haunted Victorian Mansion.  She is the author of the Masters and Mages and Edge of Night erotic m/m fantasy series.  Her fiction has won several awards including the Rupert Hughes Award from the Maui Writers Conference. She lives with one dog and four and a half cats.  She is currently working on the next Edge of Night novel and several other erotic novellas.

Where to find the author:





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Friday, September 25, 2015

Book Spotlight and Giveaway for Dragon's Eye


Don't forget to enter the giveaway at the end of the post to be in the running for some great prizes.
Tour is sponsored by Pride Promotions.

Talking with author Lexi Ander:

What was the Igigi War?

If you've read Surrounded by Crimson, there was the scene where Tristan came upon the depiction of the Igigi War on a cavern wall. What or who are the Igigi? Why were they fighting? What was the outcome?

The Igigi and their war was one of those vague myths that I latched onto. There were plenty of websites where people had ideas and lots of speculation but very little facts. What was thought to be factual was the term Igigi being used for the gods of heaven and Annunaki were the gods of earth. The term was penned during the Babylonian period and said to encompass their ten great gods. Sometimes the term used was synonymous with the word Annunaki but evolved to refer to all the gods of heaven. Igigi was also thought to be the younger gods, the 6th generation, who were servants/slaves to the Annunaki until they rebelled and they were replaced by the creation of humans. In the Babylonian Epic of Creation, the Igigi numbered three hundred.

Like I said, there was very little in the ways of facts, so I took Igigi to mean a group of gods and then I labeled the biggest battle between the gods as the Igigi War, a civil war that drastically changed who ruled. I'm going to do my best to generalize because I don't want to lose you to the details. Those details will be made into separate blog posts that focus on the information about the gods and their personalities. So here we go.

Tiamat and Abzu filled the cosmic abyss. Abzu fathered on Tiamat the elder deities and from the elders more gods were born creating a great havoc that annoyed Abzu to no end. He'd had enough and planned on murdering the lesser gods so he could start over. Tiamat loved all her children and went to her favorite grandchild, Enki, confiding in him what Abzu planned.

Armed with this information, Enki battled with Abzu, captured him and put Abzu to sleep in the waters under Enki's temple. Tired from the fight, Enki fell into a deep asleep next to Abzu and began to absorb Abzu's creation power. Kingu, a son of Tiamat and Abzu, had aspirations to become the ruler of the gods and he ran to Tiamat telling her consort was murdered and Tiamat loses her shit.

She created and army of gods to battle those who killed her mate. Tiamat took Kingu as her lover and bestowed upon him the Tablets of Destinies. Three clay tablets that Kingu wore as a breastplate giving him immense power and she made him the general of her army.

Meanwhile, Enki's mother attempted to wake him from his sleep because if anyone could talk sense into Tiamat, it was her favorite. But Enki was too exhausted and didn't wake. Enlil stepped up and extracted a vow from all the gods defending against Tiamat that he would be made "king of the gods" which, of course, they agreed to. With a net, arrows, club, and an invincible spear Enlil battles with Tiamat, splitting her asunder. Her ribs were made into the vault of heaven, her weeping eyes became the source of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers, and her tail made into the Milky Way. The Tablets of Destinies were taken from Kingu and Enlil donned them becoming the king of the gods. Even though Kingu fled, he was captured and later killed. The gods Tiamat created for the war were subjugated and in later texts they were depicted as servants.

In some accounts of the creation myth, there were a few of the lesser gods who sided with Tiamat. In Surrounded by Crimson, the God Ashur revealed that he didn't side with Tiamat and therefore had been separate from her. That was the reason he could teach Tristan the songs of the earth but the Earth didn't respond him. In his own way, Ashur seeks forgiveness through teaching Tristan and Ushna.

This is what I called the Igigi War. There was another smaller skirmish that led to the creation myth of humans… but that is another story.


A huge thank you for allowing me to be a guest on the blog today! Throughout the blog tour for Dragon's Eye, I hope you enjoy the behind the scenes look at the gods and mythos, and how they play a part in Sumeria's Sons. For a visual representation, please visit my Pinterest page. (https://www.pinterest.com/lexiander1/sumeria-sons-inspirations/) During the tour I discuss the Sumerian pantheon, about who and what the Gods/Goddess are, and how I use them. Make sure you stop by the other blogs to get a complete look at the Gods and Goddess the Lycan's follow.

Also, Less Than Three Press is running a special sale on Sumeria's Sons from September 23rd  through October 7th (dates inclusive).

Twin Flames is $0.99.




25% off Songs of the Earth





25% off Dreams of the Forgotten





25% off Surrounded by Crimson




Thank you for stopping by and reading!

Now onto Lexi Ander's Dragon's Eye....


Cover Artist: London Burden
Series: Sumeria’s Sons
Book Number: 5
Series should be read in order. 
Release Date: October 7, 2015

In the wake of birth and betrayal, Ushna takes the God Ashur to Tristan in a last desperate bid to save Tristan's life—and is helpless to do anything but watch as Ashur instead buries him in a grave. Though he has no desire to go on living, having now lost Brian and Tristan, Ushna has no choice. Not only do their children need him, the mysterious Simurgh has come out of hiding and forces him to continue on—for there is much to do and little time to do it, especially with treachery and danger closing in on them from every side.


Pages or Words: 98,000 words

Categories: Fantasy, M/M Romance, Menage/Poly, Paranormal, Urban Fantasy



Exclusive Excerpt:

Chapter One

**Ushna**

The God Ashur followed behind me carrying Tristan, whose body was battered and broken. The cry of our newborn pups preceded me. Their birth was supposed to be a wondrous occasion, but through treachery and lies, that was stolen from us. Instead of enjoying the happy moment, I feared Tristan was dying.

There was so much blood. The damage to his body overwhelmed my senses. I was afraid if I didn't keep my eyes on him, if I turned my back for a second too long, his Flame would slip away. We ran through the cursed caverns that wouldn't allow me to touch my wolf or feel the song of the earth. Ashur's harsh commands to hurry spurred me on faster but I had to look behind me, I had to see with my own eyes that Tristan was still with us, still fighting.

The scars… I couldn't care less but Tristan might. I vowed I would spend the rest of my life showing him how beautiful he was to me—but first we had to get him out into the open.

I glanced back. "Hurry, Ashur."

The corridor seemed much longer than when we'd come in. Glancing over my shoulder again to ensure Ashur followed closely, my impatience caused a snarl to rumble in my throat. Tristan's skin was a gray-blue, stark and sickly against Ashur's rich mahogany tone. With every passing moment, we were losing him.

"Please." I don't know if I begged Ashur to go faster or if it was a plea to the Gods to spare Tristan's life.

When we entered the darkened corridor carved from the bedrock, I heard Tristan sigh. For months, he'd been teaching me how to listen to the Earth and I could practically feel her rush to him. I climbed the stairs, my foot slipping on the wet step in my hurry to get outside.

The open air had never smelled so good, filling my lungs with the scents of life. My wolf stirred, frantic for our mate. I reached to take Tristan from Ashur, but he dodged my grasp, moving off to the side. His low voice had a musical tone as he chanted in a language I didn't recognize and next to him, a hole formed in the ground.

"What are you doing? You said all we had to do was get him outside!" Why was Ashur not singing the song for healing? I reached again to take Tristan from Ashur's arms. Tristan was teaching me the complex chant, but Ashur was Tristan's tutelary. He knew what to ask the Earth for and how. Why was he not begging her to save Tristan's life? She wouldn't say no. She'd never say no to Tristan because she adored him.

It took a moment for the haze of my frantic thoughts to subside enough to realize Ashur was talking and then another for me to process the meaning of his words. What did he mean he couldn't restore Tristan's health?

With rising alarm, I said, "You've been teaching him how to sing to the Earth. Why can't you do that now?"

Ashur dodged me, laying Tristan in the hole atop the dark loamy soil. Something eased in me seeing Tristan in contact with the ground, although the Earth didn't rush up to him as I'd expected. She never missed an opportunity to touch him… until now. Instead, I felt power build until my bones ached and the snakes on my chest writhed in discomfort.

Staring down, I searched for the source of the energy, sure that at any moment, whatever it was would show itself. My gaze continued to return to Tristan with his ruined eyed, his torso ravaged and gaping. Never had I seen him so vulnerable, so small, the very sight calling to the caretaker within me.

Tearing my gaze away, I confronted Ashur who was pleading with me. "I teach him the songs but She doesn't respond to me."

An ancient sadness shone in Ashur's visage but I didn't care. I had trusted him to save Tristan. Never before had I been filled with such useless rage. I didn't understand what Ashur was saying. Who was he talking about? The Earth? He was the king's tutelary, so why wouldn't the Earth answer his call?

Desperation rose up and I barked, "Why the fuck not?"

"Because I took the wrong side in a war, now I'm forever separated from Her."

What did that have to do with the here and now? What did it matter he'd lost something or someone? My Tristan was dying and all he could do was talk. Ashur's pleading gaze held mine and I suddenly understood. I glanced back down at Tristan, lying in a bed of fresh dark soil.

A grave.

"No! You cannot mean to do this. He's not dead!" I jumped into the hole; Tristan's single eye stared at me with clarity, despite the state of his body. His chest rose and fell with each labored breath. There was still time. I could save him.

With the strength of the God he was, Ashur wound his arms around my waist and easily hauled me away from Tristan.

I went mad.

I fought, screamed and begged. First Brian and now Tristan. How was I to stay behind? I pleaded with Ashur to allow me to go with Tristan. We'd travelled through the Earth together before, we could do it again. I could sing to the Earth and beg for Her help.

It wasn't too late.

Then Ashur chanted and the soil covered Tristan, taking him from my sight. I roared with fury, thrashing and clawing at Ashur's hands. I vowed vengeance for this act of betrayal. Silently, Ashur held me as I beat and wailed upon him, trying to free myself from his steely grasp. He whispered continuously, "I am sorry but this had to be done," in my ear. Tears of grief stained my cheeks and I hated him all the more because it didn't have to be like this. He had no right to take Tristan from me.


How was I to know I'd have only a few short months with him? Never once did I consider I would be left behind again. Who'd keep me grounded now? I was hollow, less than half of who I once was because two essential parts of me were missing, leaving me a mere shadow of who I used to be. What was left for me now? All I wanted was to follow Tristan.

I clenched the loamy soil between my fingers, startling at the harsh cry of a babe. One, then two, followed by a third wail of infant voices filled the silence. Each tiny bellow wrapped around me and I hung my head feeling wrung out and defeated. What would anchor me to this world, indeed?


Tour Dates & Stops:

Meet Lexi Ander:
Lexi has always been an avid reader, and at a young age started reading (secretly) her mother’s romances (the ones she was told not to touch). She was the only teenager she knew of who would be grounded from reading. Later, with a pencil and a note book, she wrote her own stories and shared them with friends because she loved to see their reactions. A Texas transplant, Lexi now kicks her boots up in the Midwest with her Yankee husband and her eighty-pound puppies named after vacuum cleaners.

Where to find Lexi Ander:


Rafflecopter Prize:
1.       Prize offered: Prize offered: $20 Amazon Gift card, $20 All Romance Gift card, hard copy of Dragon's Eye, swag (pens, bookmarks)
2.        $20 All Romance Gift card, hard copy of Dragon's Eye, swag (pens, bookmarks)
3.        hard copy of Dragon's Eye, swag (pens, bookmarks)
4.        e-book copy of Dragon's Eye
5.        e-book copy of Dragon's Eye


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Saturday, September 5, 2015

Talking with author Patricia Correll

Please welcome author Patricia Correll as we talk about their latest book, Late Summer, Early Spring.

Can you tell us a little about yourself? 
I've 36 years old and have been telling stories for as long as I can remember (and before I can remember, according to my parents!). It used to be My Little Pony stories- the original ones, not the odd-looking new versions- but since then I've graduated to speculative fiction, the unholy trinity of science fiction, horror and fantasy (though I concentrate mostly on fantasy and horror). It wasn't until I was in college that I realized I could try to publish my work, and began submitting pieces in earnest. I've had many short stories published in journals as varied as The Absent Willow Review to The Lovecraft Ezine, have been in a handful of anthologies. Late Summer, Early Spring is my first book that is all mine, though!

What is your book(s) about? 
Late Summer, Early Spring began as a retelling of a Japanese folktale called "The Vampire Cat". As I worked on it, I saw that including a romantic relationship would add another layer to the story, so I ran with it.

The two novellas in this book tell a tale of love, loss, longing and devotion to duty. It's about vengeance and the toll that a thirst for revenge takes on a person.


What are you currently working on? 
My second child was born last September, so this year my writing time has been more fragmented than usual. That might be why I've been on a short story kick all year; I've completed five and hope to have a total of seven finished by the end of the year. I'm normally a very slow writer so this is unusual for me! At the moment I am working on a short follow-up story to Late Summer, Early Spring. I am also revising a Victorian-style Christmas ghost story- a tradition I love.

What do you do when you’re not writing? 
I am a stay-at-home mother to two young children, so my days consist mostly of feeding people, the library, the park, and making sure everyone gets where they need to be.  I also work special events and cover shifts at my former full-time job. I've been a bookseller with the same independent company for almost 14 years; even after the kids were born I loved it so much I couldn't bear to quit completely. They were kind enough to let me pop in and out as I was needed- though these days I always feel a little left behind, as I can't keep my finger on the pulse of the publishing industry every day like I used to.

Is there anything you would tell aspiring writers? 
You can sit around and wish upon a star, but if you do that then the people who work hard toward their goal are going to pass you up. Writing isn't some holy experience where you sit in silence for hours and the Muse comes with awesome ideas that will pour forth from your pen. And writing isn't about how much talent you have. Talent might help a little, but if you want to write don't worry about how talented you are. If you want to write, then write. And write, and write, and write. Keeping working at it and eventually you'll end up with something you like. And read too- even the greatest writers are always learning.

How often does your muse distract you from day to day minutiae? 
I rarely have a block of time to sit down and write, so I sneak it in between daily tasks. I keep a story or two sunning in the back of my mind at all times, so it's fairly simple to dip my pen in and pluck out some scene I can put down in fifteen minutes. It's also nice to have something to distract me from the boring parts of my day!

Writer’s block—real or hype? 
I've had situations where I was stuck on a story; usually putting it away for a couple days is enough to restart the process, but I have a handful of pieces that started off promising and have never been finished. I keep them around because maybe someday...

Even if I have to drop a piece, I always have something else to work on. I've never had trouble coming up with ideas- my problem is not having enough time to work on them all! I listen to the radio, read the news, and eavesdrop on conversations in public (sssshhhh!). The world is full of stories. A few days ago I listened to a radio interview with the great-great grandson of H.H. Holmes. According to him, none of his relatives knew about their ancestor until one day his grandfather announced over a family dinner that they were descended from one of America's most notorious serial killers. Now there's a story!

Do you prefer to extensively plot your stories, or do you write them as they come to you?
E.L. Doctorow said of novel writing, "It's like driving a car at night. You never see further than your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way." I'm humbled to know that such a great author apparently wrote the same way I do- with a vague idea of the story arc, but discovering the events of the tale along the way. I have tried to write outlines, and every one failed miserably. But I rarely get stuck. I write character-driven fiction, so when I can't see where we're headed I sit my characters down and ask them what they'll do next.

What advantages or challenges does a writer in your genre face in today’s fiction market? 
The rise of the Internet gives specfic writers both new opportunities and new challenges. Small presses have flourished, as well as avenues to self-publish. These small presses are often willing to take risks on new authors or on works that large publishers might not see as commercially viable. At the same time, the market has burgeoned in recent years, which can make it hard for individual writers to make themselves seen. Self-promotion is a skill we've all had to learn, and wonderful blogs like this are a huge help in reaching potential readers. Thank you for this opportunity!


Fantasy
DSP Publications

Hour of the Lotus

General Sho Iwata is devastated when the man he secretly loves, Prince Narita, is struck with a mysterious illness. Iwata's current lover, Hiroshi, is well aware of the general's unrequited passion. But that isn’t his biggest problem. His sister is Narita’s favorite consort, but Hiroshi believes she has been replaced by an imposter. When they discover the true cause of the illness, they will have to battle an ancient spirit and survive.

 Fox Hunter

Lord General Iwata Sho sets out in search of the mysterious Fox Hunter. When he finds his former lover, Hiroshi, he discovers a changed man, scarred inside and out and consumed by vengeance. Together with Narita’s grown son Daigo, Iwata and Hiroshi pursue the malicious spirit as it leaves bloodshed in its wake. Iwata worries about what will become of Hiroshi when the fox is defeated—if Hiroshi’s revenge doesn’t kill him first.

buy links:

http://www.amazon.com/Summer-Early-Spring-Patricia-Correll-ebook/dp/B0112XCV1Y/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1440974400&sr=8-1&keywords=late+summer+early+spring

https://www.dsppublications.com/books/late-summer-early-spring-by-patricia-correll-144-b

Excerpt: 

Hiroshi chewed his lower lip, thinking. “The prince has grown steadily weaker since he took sick, hasn’t he? Would you say he’s grown weaker every day?”
Iwata nodded. Then Hiroshi’s meaning struck him. “You think it’s… draining him?

His strength?”

“His life.”

“I’m a soldier, not a priest. I don’t deal with the spirits.” Iwata clenched his fist in frustration. “An assassin I could fight. But this? If I could find the cat—”

“Do you remember what it looked like?”

Iwata reached into his memory. Every detail of the previous night was there… except the cat. He recalled only a shadow, a shadow with mocking, gold-flecked green eyes. “No.”

“We need a priest.” Hiroshi sipped his tea.

“Lady Mari.” Iwata shifted his weight. The stitches in his leg pulled at his skin. “She’s remained devout. It wouldn’t be strange for her to be seen talking with a priest. She visits the shrines often.”

“I didn’t know she was a shrine maiden.”

“A long time ago.” Iwata and Lady Mari had never been friends; the prince and his regiment spent far too little time in town for them to have become familiar. But she was grave and dignified, and she ran Prince Narita’s household with a steady hand. Iwata respected her.

They lapsed into silence. Hiroshi drank his tea, though in the summer heat it brought beads of sweat to his face.

“I think we should look at Momo’s rooms,” he said suddenly. “Maybe we’ll find a clue there to tell us where she is.”

“No men are allowed in the consorts’ wing except the prince. Do you propose we dress as serving girls and sneak in?”

“You’d make an ugly woman. But then, so would I.” Hiroshi smiled. Iwata suspected that wasn’t true; with his delicate features, Hiroshi would have made a striking woman, scar or not. “Perhaps Lady Mari will arrange something if I ask her.”

Iwata rubbed his temple. Pain and fatigue blurred the edges of his vision.

“Perhaps. We should go see her now.”

“Sho, no. You have to rest.” Hiroshi was on his feet in a heartbeat. He stepped over the table and put his hands on Iwata’s shoulders. “You’ve been up all night, and you’re wounded as well. The prince is safe during the day. Get some sleep before you go back.”

“When I return from Lady Mari, I will. I’ll be keeping watch tonight too.”

Hiroshi’s grip on Iwata’s shoulders tightened. “Again? What if the cat comes back?”
“I have another leg.”

Hiroshi frowned, anger waking in his dark eyes. He mastered it quickly. “Let me help you change clothes, then. You can’t go before the prince’s wife looking like you just left a slaughterhouse.”

The ride to the inn had set the dagger wound to bleeding again. With a gentleness that belied his ferocity as a fighter, Hiroshi cleaned around the stitches. If Iwata stiffened, he paused to rinse the cloth until the pain had eased and Iwata relaxed. He tied a fresh bandage tightly and went to fetch a clean kimono from Iwata’s trunk. Iwata closed his eyes as the sharper pain ebbed, disappearing into the dull ache that had invaded his entire body.

He woke with a start. He was still sitting up, but leaning slightly backward. Something was propping him up. He looked down. Hiroshi’s fingers were laced together across his chest, keeping him from slumping forward. Iwata had dozed off sitting up, and Hiroshi had knelt behind him, holding him to save him from falling over like a fool. Iwata squinted at the window; the sunlight had brightened considerably. “How long did I sleep?”

“A few minutes.” Hiroshi rested his chin on Iwata’s shoulder. “I was going to wake you if you slept any longer.”

He was lying. The change in light said he’d been asleep for at least an hour, probably more. He struggled to his feet, breaking Hiroshi’s embrace. Iwata turned on him, angry words ready on his lips. Hiroshi rose slowly, like an old man, flexing his stiff arms. Iwata swallowed his anger.

“Come,” he said, holding out a hand to help Hiroshi up. “It’s time we were off to the palace.”

About the Author

Patricia Correll believes that all humans are natural storytellers. She’s been telling tales since she could string words together, but in the last thirty years or so has graduated from My Little Pony stories to the unholy trinity of fantasy, SF, and horror.

She lives with her husband, their sons, and a fifteen-pound calico cat. When she’s not writing, she spends her time being a stay-at-home mom, occasionally working at a bookstore, and trying to make her cat lose weight (which is almost impossible to do). She also eats lots of ice cream, pretends to be a gardener, and possesses staggering amounts of Hello Kitty merchandise.
http://patriciacorrell.blogspot.com/

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Books Spotlight and Giveaway for Blowing Smoke


Don't forget to enter the giveaway at the end of the post for a chance to win an e-copy of Blowing Smoke. This book tour is sponsored by Pride Promotions.


Book Name: Blowing Smoke
Author Name: Rory Ni Coileain
Publisher: Riverdale Avenue Books
Cover Artist: Insatiable Designs




Series: SoulShares
Book: Five
Series should be read in order
Blurb:
Lasair Faol, Master of the Fade-Hounds to the Royal court of the Demesne of Fire in the Fae Realm, has been exiled to the human world by the Princess Consort for failing to catch her son’s kidnapper. Bryce Newhouse, Greenwich Village investment banker, is universally loathed by all who know him. Generally, he’s perfectly cool with that, but he discovers what he’s been missing—literally—when he finds Lasair chained in his basement.
Bryce was supposed to receive half of Lasair’s soul at his birth, but thanks to the Fae of Purgatory, the Pattern—portal between the worlds—has been damaged, and Bryce’s soul arrived thirty-one years too late. Now the exiled Fae is the shunned human’s only hope of healing his broken past. And with the fate of two worlds riding on that healing, Lasair is going to have to overcome both his race's innate mistrust of genuine emotion and his own very unFae awkwardness, to have any chance of reaching Bryce's impenetrable heart.

Pages or Words: 70,094 words

Categories: Erotica, Fantasy, Romance, Urban Fantasy

Excerpt:
Bryce straightened, stepping out of his trousers and nudging them aside with a foot. He blushed faintly, smiling a little, when he saw how intensely Lasair was watching him.
“I want more of that smile,” Lasair murmured, letting his leggings fall and drawing Bryce close.
“You’re looking at my smile?”
“You sound surprised.” Lasair captured both of their cocks in a curled hand and started a gentle pumping; the strange delight rippled through him, and he felt Bryce shudder with it at the same time.
“Most men would be looking somewhere else, under the circumstances.” Bryce’s blush deepened.
Their loss and I plan to eventually warred with one another, and in the end Lasair said neither; he simply took Bryce’s mouth again, urging him back toward the chair and following him down. He slid one hand down the underside of Bryce’s thigh, urging his leg up. Surely the human was limber enough to hook a leg over Lasair’s shoulder—
“Wait, wait, hold on.” Bryce stiffened, forcing Lasair back. “I don’t bareback on a first date, I don’t care what world you think you’re from.”
“You don’t... what?” Lasair blinked, frowned. How did horses suddenly get involved?
“No sex without a condom.” Apparently Lasair’s blank look was finally registering with Bryce. “Jesus. Are you going to tell me you don’t know what a condom is?”
“I don’t think I need to, since you’ve obviously already figured that out.”
Bryce’s mouth opened, closed; he shook his head, as if he had something else he wanted to say but was thinking better of it, and hooked his trousers with a bare foot.
Lasair’s brows arched as the human’s quick search through his trouser pockets yielded a small circle in a thin square wrapping. “I’m anxious to discover what that has to do with either horses or sex toys.”
“Horses?” Now it was Bryce’s turn to stare blankly.
Lasair took the little package away from Bryce and held it between thumb and forefinger, studying it. “You were the one who mentioned barebacking. I’d be glad to saddle you if you want, it wouldn’t be the first time, but I don’t see how you’d use this thing to—“
Bryce’s sudden laughter warmed Lasair all the way to his suddenly curled toes, flooding him with the joy he’d sought even as it brought his arousal back to its peak.
“You are fucking priceless, Rapunzel.” There was no hint of sarcasm in Bryce’s voice, no scorn, only laughter, and his smile was every bit as breathtaking as Lasair had imagined. Something had opened in the human, some barrier lowered. “Here, let me. Watch and learn.”


Sales Links: Coming Soon


Today I’m very lucky to be interviewing Rory Ni Coileain, author of BLOWING SMOKE.
Hi, Rory, thank you for agreeing to this interview. Tell us a little about yourself, your background, and your current book.


Character interview with Bryce Newhouse, from BLOWING SMOKE (please note, this interview takes place before the events in the book!)

   What’s your job like? I’m an investment banker. Used to be with my daddy’s firm, but he fired me after that little incident with the Welsh rugby team.


Would you rather be respected or feared? Why?  Feared, because I’m not interested in futility, and frankly, I haven’t got a chance in hell at the other one.


What’s your favorite book? I think this is where I’m supposed to say Machiavelli’s The Prince, right? Or the Gay Kama Sutra? Well, fuck that. It’s Watership Down. Yeah, bunny rabbits.


 If you could go anywhere, all expenses paid, where would you go? Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt. But there’s a little town in northern Wales I wouldn’t mind going back to. Can’t pronounce it, but they have a kick-ass rugby team.


    Tell us a bit about yourself. *shrugs* Born into more money than anyone knows what to do with. My mother believed in benign neglect, Daddy’s always been more the malign neglect type. My grandfather came to live with us when I was seven, after he had a stroke. Life was poor little rich boy hell after that until I was twelve, when Daddy caught me making out with the housekeeper’s son in the pantry. After that it was poor little rich boy hell while locked in the closet. On my good days, I admit I’d like to have someone in my life… but most days, I realize no one’s that stupid.



Tour Dates & Stops:
15-Jul
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About the author:
Rory Ni Coileain has been writing almost as long as she’s been reading, and reading almost as long as she’s been talking. She majored in creative writing in college, back when Respectable Colleges didn't offer such a major, so she designed it herself—being careful to ensure that she never had to take a class before nine in the morning or take a Hemingway survey course.

She graduated Phi Beta Kappa at the age of nineteen, sent off her first short story to an anthology being assembled by an author she idolized, received the kind of rejection letter that fuels decades of therapy, and found other things to do for the next thirty years or so, including nightclub singing, working as a volunteer lawyer for Gay Men’s Health Crisis, and studying ballet in New York City, until her stories grabbed her by the shirt collar and announced they were back.

Now she's a legal editor, a soprano in her church choir and the St. Mark’s Cathedral Choral Society (unless they’re singing Mozart, because she’s decided that Mozart didn’t like sopranos very much), the mother of a teenaged son, Brony, and budding film-maker (all wrapped up in one amazing offspring), and amanuensis to a host of Fae, Gille Dubh, and shapeshifters who are all anxious to tell their stories, and some of whom aren’t very good at waiting their turns.


Where to find the author:
Twitter: RoryNi




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