Friday, November 15, 2019

Rules For Santa by Susan Hawke - Blog Tour with Excerpt and Giveaway

Rules for Santa

Susan Hawke
Davey’s Rules Series Book 3
Susan Hawke
M/M Romance, Daddy/boy
Release Date: 11.01.19

Rules for Santa Cover

Blurb

Rule #18: Daddy’s boy will always believe in his Santa Daddy.

Homeless, alone, and now jobless, Cameron Evans is lost… until he’s found after a prominent local attorney literally trips over him when the boy is passed out from dehydration.

Scott Hendrickson has two things in life: his job as an assistant district attorney, and his son Davey. Other than that, he lives alone in a house that’s too big, too empty, too… lonely.

It’s not just Cameron’s life that might change for the better when Scott takes him in. Scott can provide material things and security, but Cameron returns the favor by breathing fresh air into Scott’s stale life.

Two men who need each other… one magical holiday season. Could a little Christmas magic be all that’s needed to bring the biggest gift of all? Maybe Cameron doesn’t need a Sugar Daddy… because he already has a Santa Daddy.

This is the third book in a series about not-so-perfect Daddies, adorable “boys,” and one sassy brat with an insane list of rules. Get ready for all the squishy holiday feels you’d want from a Susan Hawke book.

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Excerpt

After a sleepless night spent tossing and turning, I was up with the sun. Cameron came down right as I was pouring the fruit compote over a Belgian waffle. I noticed the backpack on his shoulder right off the bat.
His stomach growled—loudly—but he ignored it as he met my eyes. "I'm going to get out of your hair now. I just wanted to thank you for taking me in last night. I looked out the window and it's not raining right now, so I should be okay." Shaking my head, I pointed to the island. "Drop your bag and come have breakfast. I didn't cook all this just for me, did I?" My chest fluttered when he instantly obeyed. His cheeks were pink as he climbed onto the stool. "Sorry, I just didn't want to assume or impose. I thought you might be sick of me by now. But I suppose it won't hurt to stick around long enough to have breakfast, especially since you went to so much work." "You’re not imposing at all. It's nice to have a little company in the house." I figured we would discuss his leaving later. First… food. "Wow, that's a beautiful compote. You reduced it perfectly, I won't even need syrup." Cameron smiled brightly as he looked at the plate I set in front of him. There were already platters of scrambled eggs and bacon on the counter, along with a container of freshly squeezed orange juice. I might have been a little too busy. "I just hope you like waffles." I spoke casually, setting a carafe of coffee on the counter along with a container of cream and cups for each of us. "I wasn't sure if you drink coffee or not. If not, that just means there'll be more for me." His eyes were closed as he moaned around his first bite of waffle. I wasn't sure whether to be pleased or turned on. Maybe a bit of both? After he swallowed, his eyes popped open and he reached for the coffee. "I'm not a huge coffee drinker, but I don't hate it. Especially with a rich breakfast like this, I’ll definitely want coffee today."


Susan Hawke Logo


As an avid reader and big romance fan myself, I love sharing the stories of the different people who live in my imagination. My stories are filled with humor, a few tears, and the underlying message to not give up hope, even in the darkest of times, because life can change on a dime when you least expect it. This theme comes from a lifetime of lessons learned on my own hard journey through the pains of poverty, the loss of more loved ones than I'd care to count, and the struggles of living through chronic illnesses. Life can be hard, but it can also be good! Through it all I've found that love, laughter, and family can make all the difference, and that's what I try to bring to every tale I tell.

I'm a happily married mom with one snarky teenage boy, and three grown "kids of my heart." I'm more widely known for my mpreg writings as Susi Hawke; this new name is a departure from that. Whether written by Susan or Susi, the books are filled with that all-important love, laughter, and family I mentioned; the only difference is that this name has no male pregnancy. I look forward to sharing my stories with you, and to bringing more romance and laughter into this world that needs it so very badly.

Amazon Author: https://amzn.to/2Hdgwvl

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For Sam, Times Infinity by Suki Fleet - Release Blitz with Giveaway



Buy Links: Amazon US | Amazon UK | Universal Link - Exclusive to Amazon and Available to Borrow with Kindle Unlimited

Length: 60,000 words approx.

Blurb

After growing up in care, all Sam wants is to make a home for him and Tommy, his kid brother by choice. But it’s not as easy as he thought, especially when his social worker finds him a job miles away. And falling for the surprising boy at work only makes things harder.

Evra is different, his past a mystery. Being truly himself is not something he’s ever felt safe enough to be with anyone, not until Sam, the shyest boy ever, saves his life at work and Evra finds himself inexplicably trusting him. Wanting him.

Problem is, Sam is leaving, unable to stand being so far away from Tommy. And Evra can’t leave, not when he has consequences to face.

Making things work might seem complicated, but sometimes falling in love has its own consequences.

About The Author

Award Winning Author. Prolific Reader (though less prolific than they’d like). Lover of angst, romance and unexpected love stories.

Suki Fleet’s first novel This is Not a Love Story won Best Gay Debut in the 2014 Rainbow Awards, and was a finalist in the 2015 Lambda Awards. Foxes won Best Gay Young Adult story in the 2016 Rainbow Awards.

You can contact Suki at sukifleet@gmail.com

If you’re interested in hearing about upcoming releases, works in progress, giveaways and freebies, please sign up to Suki’s newsletter.



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Thursday, November 14, 2019

Mr. Right Now by Annabeth Albert - Release Blitz with Excerpt

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Mr. Right Now
Annabeth Albert
M/M Contemporary Romance
Release Date: 11.14.19

MrRightNow-AA-f

Blurb

He’s Mr. Right Now, but for how long?

When Russ suffers a Thanksgiving disaster, his gorgeous neighbor Esteban is there to save the day. And after an innocent mix-up leads to the former Hollywood hottie playing the role of Russ’s date, Russ thinks scoring Esteban as his fake boyfriend is a huge win. The newly discharged marine is healing inside and out and could use some holiday cheer.

For his part, Esteban is intrigued by his big, bad neighbor. He likes how his matchmaking cat brings out an unexpected caring side of Russ. Desire flares as the reasons to continue their ruse pile up for both men.

And pretending feels so good. From chocolaty kisses to late night cuddles, their burgeoning friendship is getting cozier and cozier. But as the end date for their little deception looms, all the real feelings they’ve tried to ignore come tumbling in. Each must decide whether they have what it takes to ring in the New Year as a couple.

Mr. Right Now is a stand-alone holiday novella with sweet, low-angst feels, spicy love scenes, and foodie inspired, quirky Oregon romance with a military flavor. Happy ending guaranteed with no cliffhangers!

Tags: neighbors-to-lovers, fake boyfriend, holiday romance, friends-to-lovers



Mr Right Now Kiss TeaserMr. Right Now Teaser PicsMr. Right Now Cat Teaser

Excerpt

Russ didn’t consider himself an angry guy, but as he carried the blackened and flaking skillet out to the trash, he was seriously considering violence toward the misbehaving onions that had transformed from raw to charred before he could save his pan. The mess was far too gross for pitching into his small under-the-sink can. 
Adrenaline pumping more than it needed to be, he heaved the pan into the shared dumpster for his condo community where it landed with a satisfying clang. “Take that, Thanksgiving.” 
Now he needed to go back into his place and decide how to cope with the loss of his one large skillet. If he didn’t pass out from the stench first. He sagged against the fence surrounding the dumpster and took some deep breaths.
“Problem?” A familiar, deep voice asked. 
Hell. Of course, he wasn’t alone in his humiliation. No, his next-door neighbor was right there, neat white bag of trash in hand. And not the older woman who occupied the condo on the corner. This would have to be the hot neighbor, Esteban. 
With his full head of dark hair shot through with silver strands, lush mouth, chiseled features, and lean build, Esteban always managed to look like a magazine spread of forty-something Hollywood heartthrobs. He even looked good taking out the trash. Today he was wearing a black T-shirt advertising last year’s Pride Run, turquoise running shoes, and gray shorts way too short for the dreary November Portland weather. 
“Not really.” Russ tried for a casual tone. 
“Trying out for the next Olympic shotput team? Or did that pan commit some unpardonable offense?” Esteban laughed lightly, in his usual good humor. 
His voice was as Hollywood-worthy as the rest of him, rich and sinful even when teasing. Nothing seemed to faze him, not his escape-artist cat, not the continual parking issues for their condo complex, not mail mix-ups, and not Russ taking his frustrations out on his cookware. 
“The second. Ruined my stuffing before it even got started.” He groaned, hating how the explanation sounded, but also not one to lie simply for the sake of looking better. Even if Hot Neighbor Esteban was totally worth a white lie or two.
“There’s a joke there…” A smile teased the edges of Esteban’s full mouth. “Let me guess, your family assigned you a dish you’ve never made before to bring to dinner?”
“Worse.” Might as well confess everything. “I’m supposed to be hosting. And I was supposed to have help, but then my…boyfriend broke up with me last night, and now I’m on my own.” 
It still felt weird, that word “boyfriend” on his tongue, even when he was almost certain that Esteban, the guy his Realtor had described as a “hot, gay, former movie star,” wouldn’t care. Heck, if he was honest, that descriptor, plus the convenient single-story layout, had sold him on the condo several months back. 
“Oh, man. He seriously left you hanging, didn’t he?” Eyebrows creasing, Esteban shook his head. “Didn’t he even leave you a cookbook or a menu for the meal?”
“Nope. Just me and Chef Google. Tried to make a plan this morning.” Russ tried for an upbeat tone again. “There’s apparently a limit to what cooking videos can teach on the fly.” 
“Yeah, there is. Is there anything I could do to help?” Esteban seemed sincere in the offer, voice warm and sympathy clear in his brown eyes. 
It was the kind of offer Russ would ordinarily turn down. He was a former marine, and he liked to think he could handle himself in most situations. As a result, he didn’t like relying too much on strangers, or even friends, and he’d gotten a little too good at distancing himself from well-meaning buddies from the military. 
But Thanksgiving meant these were not ordinary times. He was well and totally screwed for hosting dinner. 
“Do you have a large nonstick skillet I could borrow?” he asked. “Most stores are probably closed, and even for the ones that are open, by the time I go and come back…” 
“I’ve got you.” Esteban clapped him on the shoulder, strong grip that belied his lean build. 
The rumors were probably right about Esteban’s movie-star career. He was one of those perfectly proportioned people—neither tall nor short, shoulders more in keeping with his running habit than linebacker-wide, slim torso, toned legs, and long, elegant fingers that always made Russ feel that much bulkier and clumsier. 
“I…uh… Can I get it now? I’ll bring it back later. And if another disaster happens—”
“It won’t.” Laughing again, Esteban shivered as a breeze whipped through their corner of the courtyard. 
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Russ admitted, trying his best to ignore the impulse to warm up Esteban. Between his electric touch and the adorable way his cheeks went pink in the chilly wind, there was no denying Esteban’s appeal, even if Russ had sworn just last night that he was over attractive guys forever. “But I’ll replace it if it gets ruined.”
“Appreciated, but I’m coming with the pan. I can get you started sautéing without torching anything at least. You need another onion? I’ve got plenty.”

“You want to help me?” Russ blinked. This was…unexpected.


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Annabeth Albert grew up sneaking romance novels under the bed covers. Now, she devours all subgenres of romance out in the open—no flashlights required! When she’s not adding to her keeper shelf, she’s a multi-published Pacific Northwest romance writer. Mr. Right Now joins her many other critically acclaimed and fan-favorite LGBTQ romance series and stand-alone titles. To find out what she’s working on next and other fun extras, check out her website: www.annabethalbert.com or connect with Annabeth on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and Spotify! Also, be sure to sign up for her newsletter for free ficlets, bonus reads, and contests. The fan group, Annabeth’s Angels, on Facebook is also a great place for bonus content and exclusive contests.

Emotionally complex, sexy, and funny stories are her favorites both to read and to write. Annabeth loves finding happy endings for a variety of pairings and particularly loves uncovering unique main characters. In her personal life, she works a rewarding day job and wrangles two active children.

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In This Bed of Snowflakes We Lie by Sophia Soames - Release Blitz with Excerpt and Giveaway

RELEASE BLITZ


Book Title: In This Bed of Snowflakes We Lie

Author: Sophia Soames

Publisher: Self-published

Cover Artist: Miriam Latu

Release Date: November 14, 2019

Genre/s: Contemporary M/M Romance

Trope/s: Forced Proximity, Christmas, Family,

Themes: Christmas, family, coming out, University Dorm living, Norway, Scandinavia

No triggers or warnings. No age gap, University aged student MC’s.

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 62 891 words

It is a standalone story.

 
 

Buy Links - Available on Kindle Unlimited





Love is supposed to be easy. You are supposed to find your person and fall in love, and then you hold each other and kiss and live happily ever after. 

Well, Erik has ended up in the wrong bloody love story. He is stuck in the one full of angst and worries and confusion and pain. Lots of pain.


Blurb

Oskar Høiland hides from life. It just makes things easier that way, not having to face all the fears and drama of living. He especially hides from other people, because Oskar has grown up fearing the snide remarks and the quick glances that strip him of the tiny scraps of confidence he still has left. He is just going to keep existing. Work hard to complete his medical degree and perhaps watch a few more series on Netflix in peace and quiet over Christmas.

Erik Nøst Hansen should be an almost fully-fledged adult. He should be able to sort out the mess that festers in his head and stop lying. It’s just hard. And it’s bloody terrifying to even acknowledge the thoughts that swirl around in his head at night when he can’t sleep. He also needs to figure out how to talk to the boy downstairs. The one with the golden curls and the crooked smile. The boy who is completely monopolising Erik’s messed-up heart.

A story of falling in love and being brave. A Christmas tale with a difference, set in the university dorms of central Oslo, where lies are uncovered, snowflakes are falling all over the place, and beds are made to lie in. There is a slightly unconventional family. A mess of animal onesies. Too much food and a very Merry Christmas.



Excerpt

Oskar’s first instinct is to flee. Run. Hide somewhere until the thing in his bed has disappeared. He blinks. Shakes his head in disbelief and looks again.

Nope. He’s still there. There is still a very-much-fast-asleep person in his bed, his breathing soft against Oskar’s pillow, and that ridiculous pink bandana is sliding down over his eyes.

He moves carefully to get a closer look, then recoils back as he remembers. No clothes! He is stark naked in his own room, like a normal person would be. It’s just, this dude is there. Right there. On his bed.

Yes, he had left his door unlocked, but then that doesn’t mean any random person can just come in and decide to sleep in his bed? Does it? Especially when the random person is flat-out drunk. Oskar can smell the alcohol now, his body recoiling at the fumes escaping along with little bubbles of spit at the corner of the dude’s mouth. Beer-scented mouthfuls of air with every breath. Every little snore.

He doesn’t know how he didn’t realise someone was here before. I mean, the dude is not exactly quiet, snuffling and snoring and smacking his lips together in his sleep.

Oskar’s eardrums are still ringing from having his earphones on the highest volume, and the beats from upstairs are still going strong, but still, he should have noticed. How the fuck didn’t he notice?

There are a pair of threadbare joggers on the floor, which he pulls on, and the t-shirt on the floor looks clean enough, so he pulls it over his damp hair and tiptoes further up along the side of his bed to get a closer look.

It’s definitely one of the guys from upstairs. The tall pretty one. The one with all the girlfriends. The one with the reputation.

Yes, Oskar listens. He might not speak much to the other students, but his hearing is good—well, it was until today, and he will sue if his hearing is damaged from this bloody party, starting with suing the pants off this dude that has crashed Oskar’s planned Netflix marathon—and he pays attention to the stories. The tall tales of weekend shenanigans. The obvious boasting and lies. And the things that might actually be true.

Like the whispers doing the rounds about this guy. The tall one with the messy dark-brown hair and full lips. Kisses like he means it. Great lay apparently. Can get any girl he wants. That’s what he has heard. Hangs around with the dark-haired guy with the black floppy fringe, and that lanky boy with the frizzy hair. Well, he probably hangs around with everyone. Always smiling and never alone. Never sitting on his own in the cafeteria like Oskar, hiding in the corner with his headphones on.

No, this dude is always the centre of attention. Surrounded by people clinging to his every word. Laughing at his jokes. Staring adoringly at him as he throws his head back in laughter.

Except this dude is now here. And Oskar hasn’t got a clue what to do.

He could go get Freddie, he supposes, and they could probably manhandle the dude out of the room. Dump him on the sofa for the night. He is quite sure the girls would approve, and in the morning, he would wake up and find this guy on the sofa making all the girls laugh, having charmed them into making him coffee and buttering his toast and spoon feeding him their secret imported stash of Swedish Treo hangover fizz, whilst placing tiny morsels of hot buttered toast on his tongue.

He pushes that scene out of his head with a sigh. The boy is his problem. He is in Oskar’s bed. And if he doesn’t get him out of here, things will be shit awkward in the morning, he is sure of that.

“Dude,” he whispers, and nudges the guy’s shoulder before he can stop himself. He should think this through, make some kind of plan. Maybe wake him up gently so he doesn’t scare the shit out of the poor guy, waking up and realising he has crashed in Oskar’s bed, instead of wherever he thought he was crashing.

He probably took a wrong turn, thinking this was Madeleine’s room. Or Ingvild’s. Or one of the other girls. Maybe he thought he could get lucky by just throwing himself in some lucky girl’s bed. Just like that. Oskar wonders if people do that, just full-on go for it and shamelessly offer themselves like that.

Oskar shudders at the thought. It’s a mistake whatever it is, and Oskar won’t let him get away with this. Not tonight. Not now. He doesn’t need the grief, or the inevitable shaming in the morning when this dude tells all his friends that the nerd downstairs tried to get him in the sack. Lies and raw laughter trying to make light of a situation that he knows will end badly, with Oskar being the butt of every joke. The one the girls will gossip about and point their fingers at. The one that came on to one of the beautiful people. One of their people. Where Oskar just doesn’t belong.

Because the boy is beautiful, even Oskar can see that. Soft long dark hair framing his face, freckles decorating his pale skin and those lips. Even his fucking profile is perfect, his straight nose burrowing into Oskar’s pillow.

“Dude, come on! Wake up.” Oskar shakes his shoulder this time, but the guy is dead. Dead to the world. Not a hint of pretending to wake up. He just snores and burrows further into the pillow.

“YO. MATE!” This guy is no mate of his. Nor will they ever be, mates or whatever, but Oskar is shouting now. Desperate. He needs to get to bed. He needs an hour of some mindless American sitcom to calm him down. He needs to sleep. Please.

He tries to pull the guy off the bed, grabbing the dude by the ankles only to realise the guy is still wearing shoes. Big clumsy boots with heels. Ridiculous. I mean who wears shit like that in the middle of winter? It’s not like December in Oslo is the place for something that wouldn’t look out of place in a Texas Rodeo.

“Fuck,” he grits between his teeth.

The sofa out in the main room is seriously uncomfortable. No one ever bothers to even sit on it, and even if he considers sleeping there, the bleach fumes would make him retch before long.

It’s not like he could go sleep in anyone else’s room. It’s just not the kind of thing he could do. Not his thing. Not that he is close enough to any of the others to warrant such a request.

He could sleep on his own floor, he supposes, except that the dude is lying on top of his duvet.

It takes a few good pulls, but finally the duvet gives way and the dude rolls over as Oskar drags the fabric from underneath his body. He almost bursts into laughter, because the dude is now on his back, mouth wide open and the bandana has slipped down covering his eyes and nose. He looks like a twat.

A drunk snoring twat in ridiculous boots.

Oskar is a medical student. Oskar fucking knows what can happen. He wouldn’t be a responsible human being if he didn’t ensure that his unwelcome roommate at least survives the night.

The boots come off his feet to reveal socks underneath. Ridiculous socks with little reindeers and Santas that make Oskar swallow another inappropriate giggle. This isn’t funny. This isn’t funny at all.

He rolls the bandana up over the dude’s fringe, carefully removing it before tossing it aside, and straddles his body to try to roll him into the recovery position. He has done it several times in training, but always with willing perfectly conscious subjects underneath him. Never a half-dead comatose man breathing alcohol fumes at him, making him retch in disgust.

It takes a few goes, and Oskar gets braver as the guy is definitely out for the count. He doesn't wake up, even when Oskar knees him in the balls by mistake, trying to manhandle his shoulder over towards the mattress. But he is finally there, safely in position on his side with his hand supporting his chin, so any accidental vomiting won’t choke him to death and there is nothing restricting around his neck to hinder his breathing. His airway is open, and he is safe. In the middle of Oskar’s bed.

Oskar wants to cry. He wants to bury his face in his hands and howl. Scream out in frustration.

Instead, he covers the unconscious body in his warm duvet and switches off the light. Lets his own body slide in under the covers at the very edge of the bed, as far away as he can get. Oskar lies there, perched on the edge of the mattress, yet he can still feel the breath from the other man hitting the back of his neck. Soft puffs of air stroking the skin under his still-damp hair.

He shudders. It’s hours until he finally falls asleep. Restless and terrified of what he might find next to him in the morning.



About the Author 

Sophia Soames should be old enough to know better but has barely grown up. She has been known to fangirl over tv-shows, has fallen in and out of love with more popstars than she dares to remember, and has a ridiculously high-flying (un-)glamourous real-life job. 

Her long-suffering husband just laughs at her antics. Their children are feral. The Au Pair just sighs. 

She lives in a creaky old house in rural London, although her heart is still in Scandinavia. 

Discovering that the stories in her head make sense when written down has been part of the most hilarious midlife crisis ever and she hopes it may long continue.

Miriam Latu is a Norway based artist, specialising in hand-drawn pencil portraits. She works with old-school pen and paper, and more of her work can be found on Instagram @om_hundre_ar_er_allting. 



Also by Sophia Soames, with cover artwork by Miriam Latu

717 miles

717 miles Christmas

The Scandinavian Comfort Series

Little Harbour

Open Water

IN THIS BED OF SNOWFLAKES WE LIE

What If It All Goes Right? (Out Jan 2020)



Come join my Facebook reader’s group 


Find me on social media @sophiasoames on all platforms


 


Giveaway 

717 miles – Christmas Special 

A short novella to follow on from where the novel 717 miles left off. 

This will be FREE to download from Amazon from November 14 -18. 

Just follow the link and enjoy.



Please note that this is not a standalone story and should be read after completing 717 miles





BLURB

717 miles Christmas Special


I promised myself many years ago that I would never set foot in London again.
I promised. Adam promised. I said I wouldn't. He said I would never have to.
Yet here we are again, and life has become quite surreal. This is us, a good few years later, older and wiser with more baggage than the baggage belt at Heathrow.


And now it is Christmas and Adam is working too much and I have far too much time to think about things that shouldn't really matter. Or maybe they should?


717 miles Christmas Special is a short novella to follow on from 717 miles, the novel, and should not be read as a standalone.
 

 

 


 

White Knight by Mary Rundle - Blog Tour with Exclusive Excerpt and Giveaway

White Knight - Mary Rundle


Mary Rundle has a new MM paranormal book out in her Blackwood Pack series: "White Knight."


The Blackwood Pack saga continues…


This is part of an on-going series by Amazon International Bestselling Author, Mary Rundle – catching up on previous titles is advised. Readers of the past books will enjoy meeting old friends once more as the pack does what it does best ̶ caring for one another and helping shifters everywhere.


Hunter always expected to be the next Alpha of the Rolling Hills Pack until he had to walk away, leaving behind his dream, forced to build a new life for himself and his brothers. Arriving with them to visit his cousins at the Blackwood Pack, he never expects to find his mate there, but when he catches his scent, it’s impossible for him to concentrate on anything else, including a secret he has that will change his cousins’ lives.


From the moment Hunter meets Jackson, tempers flare between the two Alphas as their anger builds about secrets both are keeping. Their distrust of each other grows yet they must struggle to find common ground due to their mutual responsibilities toward Hunter’s mate.


Fionn, a rare white dragon, has fought hard for his independence, believing it will protect him from relatives who want to seize his hoard. As a recent member of the Blackwood Pack, he looks forward to sharing the future with his new family. That is, until he realizes he has a mate. Needing time to sort out his feelings, he flees to his hoard, hiding from Hunter who impatiently waits for him.


Together, Fionn and Hunter must put aside past hurts and disappointments as they try to forge a new world for themselves while facing a dangerous threat to Fionn…and to the rest of the Blackwood Pack.


Long-kept secrets, a treacherous attack, an action-packed rescue, and many unexpected twists and turns make this passionate love story by Mary Rundle impossible to put down once you’ve read the first page.



Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CAN | QueeRomance Ink | Goodreads




Giveaway


Mary is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour. Enter via Rafflecopter:




Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d4796/?




Excerpt

White Knight banner

Fuckingbedamned! Jackson’s eyes narrowed as he saw the flaring of Hunter’s nose. No fucking way! Flicking his gaze down, he found the telltale bulge confirming his suspicion. His cousin’s mate was one of his pack members. What the fuck do I do now? Jackson’s lingering suspicions about why Hunter had contacted him now after all these years assumed greater importance now. Not wanting to see who his cousin was staring at, he rolled out his Alpha power, just enough to bring Hunter’s attention back to him. “It’s been a long time, Cousin.”

Holy Fuck! How did Jackie do that? Force to look at his cousin, Hunter found himself unable to move. “Yes it has,” he replied. “I understand congratulations are in order.”

“Congratulations? What for?” asked Jackson.

“Becoming Alpha of the Blackwood Pack, of course,” Hunter answered.

Wondering how much his cousin knew, Jackson decided to ignore it. Instead, he asked, “Are you going to introduce your brothers to me?”

“Sure,” Hunter replied, anxious to know the name of his mate, continued, “However, that is quite a welcoming group you have for us considering you claim you didn’t know we were coming today. Do you mind introducing me to them first?”

Standing next to Logan on the porch, Kieran watched the unfolding scene of the two Alphas posturing, but suddenly his spirit spoke to him, causing him to run down the steps, towards Jackson.

“Babe! Wait! What are you doing?” called Logan, torn between following his mate or obeying Jackson’s orders to remain where he was. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Macushla, I’m needed! Don’t worry!” Kieran yell, sprinting towards the motorhome.

Asking their spirit what his mate was doing, Logan gasped, his jaw dropping. Not believing what he was told, Logan leaped off the porch, wanting to stop Kieran from entering the motorhome. “Wait, babe wait! Jackson, stop Kieran,” he shouted.

Hearing his brother’s instructions, Jackson turned his head, breaking eye contact with Hunter. A quick glance, Jackson realized why his brother had yelled at him when he saw Kieran was already opening the door of the motorhome. “Kieran, stop!” Jackson pushed more of his Alpha power out, commanding Logan’s mate to obey.

Now free of the control of Jackson’s Alpha power, Hunter followed his cousin’s gaze and saw someone was attempting to enter his motorhome. Not know who it was, he threw out his Alpha power and ordered “Stop now!”

Pausing as the power from both Alphas temporarily froze him, Kieran shook his head as his spirt broke him free of their hold. Wrenching the door open, he entered the motorhome and came face to face with three pairs of eyes, staring at him in astonishment. “Hi cousins, nice to meet you but if you don’t mind, can we talk later because I am needed.” Hurrying to the first door Kieran found, he popped it open, then said, “Hi there. Don’t you look fabulous! I love your dress but can we talk later. Thanks.” Closing the door, he hurried to the next one. Placing his hand on it, he knew this is where he was supposed to be. Quietly opening the door, he slipped inside. “Hi, don’t worry, I’m here to help…” he said, closing the door behind him.

“Who the fuck was that?” asked Sawyer.

“How did he know?” Robin asked.

“Oh shit,” Mason said, looking at the big shifter who just joined Jackson and Hunter. “This doesn’t look good.”

Stopping next to Jackson, Logan asked, “Why didn’t you stop Kieran?”

“Who’s Kieran?” asked Hunter, “And why did he break into my home?”

“Fuck you, asshole!” Logan snarled.

“Logan, stop,” Jackson ordered.

“Logan?” Hunter asked, astounded at how big his cousin’s twin was. The last time he had seen Logan, he was a skinny short kid.

“Logan, meet Hunter, our cousin,” Jackson said.

Giving his cousin an angry glance, Logan then turned back to his brother. “Bro, I need to speak to you—alone!”

At a loss for what the hell was going on, Hunter decided to retreat. “I understand. I’ll just be in there, finding out about who decided to invite himself into my home without permission, I might add.”

“You touch my mate and it will be the last thing you ever do,” snarled Logan.

“Your mate? That twink is your mate?” asked Hunter incredulously.

Seeing red at the implied insult of his mate, Logan began to shift, having had enough of his cousin and his attitude towards Kieran.

Glancing up at the motorhome, Jackson saw fear and anger in the faces staring back at him and instantly knew what would happen if he didn’t put a stop to the brewing conflict. Sending out his Alpha power at full strength, he waited until his brother and his cousins tilted their heads in submission. “Hunter, you are to remain where you are while I speak to my brother alone. Understand?”

“Yes, Alpha,” Hunter said. Feeling Jackson’s control, he stood still, watching his cousins walk away from him, smirking at their attempt to keep him from listening with his wolf hearing. Shifting his gaze, Hunter sought out the man on the porch who was tied to him by the Fates, wondering what his cousin would say when he took his Fated Mate back east.

Once Jackson felt he and Logan was far enough away from Hunter, he stopped and said, “Okay, what is Kieran up to now?”

Glancing over his brother’s shoulder, Logan made sure Hunter wasn’t heading to the motorhome before leaning in and whispering in his brother’s ear.

Jerking back, Jackson stared at Logan. “You’re wrong! It’s impossible!”

Shaking his head, Logan leaned in again, whispering again in reply to his brother’s disbelief.

Jackson’s face drained of color as the implications of Logan’s news became apparent to him. Turning, he faced the porch and zeroed in on Dakota, knowing the effect this news would have on him could affect his pup’s life. Turning back to Logan, Jackson murmured, “Are you absolutely positive?”




EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT

WHITE KNIGHT / Mary Rundle

Hi there, it’s exciting to be here and I have an exclusive excerpt today of White Knight, Book 8 in the Blackwood Pack series. The Fated Mates in this story are Fionn and Hunter, who can only find their HEA with the help of the Blackwood Pack!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Opening the door to the motorhome, Mac stuck his head in, calling, “Hunt?”
Hunter glanced at his brother over Mason’s shoulder. “Yeah, what’s up?”
“Good,” said Mac, clambering up the steps. After Maximus informed him Ian and Jackson agreed to him serving as the pack’s temporary doctor, it was time to tell Hunter. Sliding in next to Mason, he asked, “Where are Sawyer and Quin?”
“Last I knew, Sawyer was beating Zane in Rogue Wolf and Quin is doing something with Theo and Norm,” replied Hunter.
“In his bedroom?” Mac asked, jerking his head to the back of the motorhome.
“No, he’s in the pack house,” replied Mason.
“Quin? Really? Wow, that’s good to hear,” Mac said. “But I have to admit, I never would have guessed it would be bear shifters who’d bring our brother out of his shell.”
“Indeed,” Hunt chuckled. “So, why were you looking for me?”
“Uhmm…remember the job I accepted in New York?” asked Mac. After seeing Hunter’s nod, he continued, “Well, I found out yesterday that it’s not actually in New York City.”
“Okay, where is it?” asked Hunter.
“Here.”
“Here, where?” asked Mason.
“Here, with the Blackwood Pack…as their doctor…at least temporarily. Ian is pregnant and I’ll be filling in for him,” Mac said.
Hunter frowned. “You found this out yesterday and you didn’t think to tell me?”
“How come you didn’t know before yesterday?” asked Mason.
“Because all they said when I joined Frontline Doctors was one of their doctors was pregnant, so I’d be filling in for him during his paternity leave. All they told me was who I would be taking over for… a male omega by the name of Dr. Ian Wallace…but I never knew he was a member of Jackson’s pack.”
“He doesn’t like you,” growled Hunter.
Mac smiled. “According to Maximus, he’s changed his mind.”
“Who the fuck is Maximus?” asked Mason.
“He owns Dire Enterprises. Their medical division founded Frontline Doctors to help bring medical services to underserved shifter communities,” Mac explained.
“Why is it I always feel like I’m missing something?” Mason asked, shaking his head. “Let’s try this again. How does the Chairman of Dire Enterprises know Ian who, according to you, is just one of a bunch of Frontline Doctors?”
“Wait…you spoke to Maximus?” asked Hunter.
“Well, to be accurate, I met with him.”
“See there you go again…not making any sense,” Mason said. “When and where did this meeting take place?”
“In the pack house…just now. That’s why I was looking for you.”
“What is Dire Enterprises’ Chairman doing at the Blackwood Pack house?” asked Mason.
“He lives here along with his wife and two sons.”
“Mac, what the fuck is it with you? Why are you making me drag this out of you, piece by piece?” growled Hunter. “Who are his sons and why are they living here?”
Grinning at his brother’s frustration, Mac said, “I’m just relishing the one time I know something more about your world than you do.”
“Mac…”
“Okay, okay. Chill out. Jackson’s mate Steel is the CEO of Dire Enterprises and his brother Slate, is the COO,” Mac smirked. “Our cousin, Dakota, is Slate’s mate.”
“Oh, shit!” Hunter stared at Mason. Then he buried his face in his hands, mentally kicking himself for not having done further research. He and Mason had spent a year putting together a business plan which they’d submitted a couple of months ago, proposing their company, Beowulf Trust handle all Dire Enterprises’ investments worldwide. Admittedly, it was an audacious move, but one he and Mason agreed they could handle. Groaning, he thought back to breakfast and his conversation with Steel. How fucking stupid can I be? Of course he was familiar with the Valentin family…maybe ‘familiar’ wasn’t quite the right word…anyone in his field knew the name and yet at breakfast he never made the connection. Fuckingbedamned! I would have if I’d bothered to ask him what he did. All that work, wasted because his mind was focused on his mate…a mate who obviously didn’t want him. Can’t blame him…who wants someone who blows an opportunity because I didn’t do my homework.
“Hunter? Hey, you okay?” asked Mac, worried after listening to his brother’s groans.
“Hunt, it’s okay,” Mason said.
Slapping the table hard with his hands, Hunter’s eyes narrowed as he looked at his brother. “No, you’re wrong Mase. It is not okay. I fucked up big time. A fucking year of work…wasted…all because I couldn’t keep my head on straight. Now, how am I supposed to support my mate? He has a hoard…a fucking hoard! Fionn can probably buy anything he wants and what the fuck do I have to offer? If Dire Enterprises even gave us a tenth of their investments to manage, I’d have felt like we were in pig-shit heaven. But now…did you know Steel asked me at breakfast what I did, and I never made the connection? He fucking knew! But me…no I sat there like a fucking clueless asshole, pining for my mate…someone who fled from me. And can you blame him?” Taking a deep breath, Hunter lowered his voice. “No, Mase, no matter how you look at this, it is not okay.”
Mac stared at his brother, then shifted his gaze to Mason. “Hunt has a mate?”
“Had! I had a mate!” snapped Hunter.
“Yes,” Mason said. “Hunt’s mate is a member of Jackson’s pack.”
“Who is he?” asked Mac.
“Fionn! A fucking dragon!” Hunter snarled. “A mate who has a humongous cave filled with gold!”
“When did this happen?” Mac asked Mason, ignoring Hunter. “Did he know his mate was here?”
“No, Hunt found out yesterday when we arrived,” replied Mason.
“Then why is he claiming he had a mate?” asked Mac.
“Because he’s upset right now. Fionn is his mate,” Mason said.
“And Fionn has a hoard?”
Nodding, Mason said, “Hunt’s wolf is going a little crazy because Fionn took off for his hoard, but he’ll be back.”
“Will you two assholes stop talking as if I’m not here?” Hunter shouted.




Author Bio

Mary Rundle Logo - White Knight - Mary Rundle

The first book I ever wrote was Dire Warning in 2017 and, much to my delight, it became an Amazon Best Seller. Readers loved it and I was on my way to chronicling the Blackwood Pack, seven brothers who are gay wolf shifters in search of their fated mates– stories about love at first sight with twists and turns, angst and humor, romance and adventure and, of course, happy endings.

I love the M/M paranormal genre because it gives my imagination a lot of territory in which to roam. My mind can really run wild and come up with some amazing stuff when it doesn’t have to stay inside the box.

My readers tell me they feel like they’re a member of the pack as the stories unfold. As if they’re right there in the middle of the action. Others tell me it’s like watching a fast-paced movie. My writing style pulls no punches– readers love it and are always clamoring for the next book.

Stories come to me as if they were being channeled by my characters, all of whom I love (except for a few villains). They are eager to recount their lives, loves and adventures and are not inhibited when it comes to revealing steamy details.

I currently live in the Northeast and love the beautiful change of seasons, my husband, and our quirky calico cat, though not necessarily in that order. I’m always happy to hear from my readers and can be reached through Facebook, Twitter, MeWe, or my website.

Author Website: http://www.maryrundle.com
Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/maryrundle69
Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/maryrundleauthor
Author Twitter: https://twitter.com/MaryRundle69
Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/maryrundle69
Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14246427.Mary_Rundle
Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/mary-rundle/
Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Mary-Rundle/e/B0763CDQQ6


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Wednesday, November 13, 2019

Holiday Gridlock by Gretchen Evans - Release Blitz with Excerpt and Giveaway


Title: Holiday Gridlock
Series: Cruised, Book Two
Author: Gretchen Evans
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: November 11, 2019
Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 18600
Genre: Contemporary Holiday, LGBT, contemporary, holiday, Christmas, age-gap, interracial

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis


Gabe is way too happy. Mark is as close to a perfect boyfriend as you can get. He’s smart, good-looking, successful, and he cares about Gabe. He’s also way more serious about their relationship than Gabe’s ready for. He wants them to move in together.

The closest Gabe’s ever gotten to living with a boyfriend is accidentally leaving his boxers behind. But he and Mark are way past that. It’s terrifying.

Mark invites Gabe home for the holidays where Gabe gets an intimate look at Mark’s family, his childhood, and how different their Christmas traditions are. It’s loud, overwhelming, messy, and…really nice. Homey in a way Gabe’s never experienced.

But Mark wants more than for Gabe to just have a peek at this part of his life. He wants Gabe to become part of the family, to go to bed with him every night, and wake up with him every morning. He wants all their Christmases to be together. Moving in may be just the start.

It might take a Christmas miracle for Gabe to figure himself out and overcome his fears. Or maybe a little familial intervention.

Will Gabe and Mark take the next step, or will they get stuck in holiday gridlock?

Excerpt


Holiday Gridlock
Gretchen Evans © 2019
All Rights Reserved

DECEMBER 17TH
Pressure squeezed Gabe’s sinuses like a vice. A vice might be too extreme. More like he’d walked into a wall repeatedly, and now his entire face ached.

He blew his nose for the hundredth time. It wasn’t much relief. The best he could do was snuggle deeper into the nest of blankets he’d assembled on his couch and pray for the sweet release of death.

The scratch of a key turning the old, cheap lock on his front door roused him. The light coming through the blinds had dimmed a lot, and the Netflix “Are you still watching?” glared at him from the TV. He must have dozed off watching Planet Earth. Thank God for Nyquil.

No point in getting up. Only one person had a key to his apartment: Mark. If it wasn’t Mark, that meant someone was picking his lock and planned to rob him. Good. They could take whatever they wanted as long as they took this damn cold too.

“Hello!” Mark called from the hall.

Gabe managed to sit up, sort of. “In here,” he called out, voice cracking.

Mark appeared in the living room doorway wearing a devastatingly handsome three-piece gray suit. Gabe was sick, not dead. He could appreciate his sexy his boyfriend in almost any state. Mark gripped a brown paper Whole Foods bag in his hand.

His boyfriend. It was a thrill to think about. How often did a gorgeous, successful man you met on a hookup app turn out to actually be gorgeous and successful? And then be as interested in you as you were in him? Their early days of hooking up in public bathrooms—and one memorable time, a parking lot—were behind them. But those were some nice memories.

They had gone from an awkward “hey, let’s try this” to practically living in each other’s back pockets in only a few months. Gabe hadn’t had many relationships and sometimes felt a little lost at sea. But when Mark was with him, that didn’t seem to matter.

Mark’s legs were long, and Gabe’s apartment was small, so it only took a couple steps for Mark to reach him. He dropped the groceries on the battered coffee table and bent to kiss the top of Gabe’s curls.

“How are you feeling?”

Gabe pulled himself up to sit a little higher. “Like shit.”

Smiling, Mark smoothed back Gabe’s hair. Gabe stretched into it like a cat begging to be petted. It didn’t make his nightmare of a cold go away any faster, but it certainly made him feel better. He didn’t want Mark to stop but… “You’re going to get sick.”

“Maybe, but I take my vitamins.” Mark pulled away, picking up the grocery bag as he walked toward the kitchen. “I brought you dinner.”

Food sounded unappealing. He couldn’t taste anything. Couldn’t smell anything. It was like putting cardboard in his mouth.

Mark slung his jacket over the top of the lonely stool Gabe had at his breakfast bar, leaving him in white shirtsleeves and a vest that hugged his waist perfectly. He propped himself against the counter, rolling up his sleeves. Gabe could see the bulge of the veins in Mark’s forearms from the couch.

“I’m cheating a little.” He pulled a plastic tub with something gross-looking sloshing against its sides and a shrink-wrapped pack of chicken cut into bite-size pieces from the bag. “Premade stock and precooked chicken. Good chicken soup takes time, so we’ll make do with this. Add some fresh vegetables and noodles and it’s almost like the real thing.”

There was nothing like seeing a man who made your heart pound, dressed like that, proposing to make nearly homemade chicken soup just because you were sick. How could Gabe say no to dinner now?

He watched through the tiny opening between the breakfast bar and the kitchen as Mark quietly went about his business. Mark knew where the pots and pans were, where the cutting board and sharpest knife were kept. He knew to use the front left burner because the others were bent and the pot would wobble. Gabe hadn’t realized Mark paid so much attention to his dingy little kitchen.

They cooked dinner together often, but usually at Mark’s much nicer condo. His kitchen had granite countertops and an oven that didn’t burn things. Watching Mark move so effortlessly around Gabe’s space settled something warm and heavy in Gabe’s chest. Something that wasn’t congestion.

He must have dozed off again because suddenly Mark nudged his elbow with one hand and held out a steaming bowl of soup with the other.

“Here. Eat some soup and drink some water; then you can go back to sleep.”

Gabe sat up, his back against the armrest and legs stretched out in front of him, and took the bowl. The steam felt good against his face as he tried to smell it. “You gonna tuck me in?”

Mark balanced his own bowl of soup as he lifted Gabe’s legs to sit on the couch. He lowered Gabe’s legs back to his lap and made sure Gabe’s feet were covered before picking up his spoon. “You are far too sick to be lascivious.”

“Nice SAT word. And anyway, I read an article about how regular sex can help fight off colds.”

Taking a long moment to bring the spoon to his lips, Mark delayed answering. He shot a wicked grin at Gabe after he swallowed. “I thought you were worried about getting me sick.”

Touché.

“How do you feel about sex with hospital masks?”

“Decidedly unsexy.”

“Spoil sport.”

Gabe turned back to his soup. He couldn’t taste it, but it was warm and made his throat feel better. He managed most of it but left a lot of the noodles behind before Mark took the bowl from him.

Sounds of running water and clinking dishes came from the kitchen as Gabe snuggled down in his blankets. He found the remote wedged between the back of the couch and the cushion and clicked on the Antarctica episode of Planet Earth. That was a good one.

He hummed as Mark settled on the couch, putting Gabe’s legs in his lap again.

“This the one with the whales?”

Gabe hummed again, his eyelids sliding closed.

“Do you want me to wake you up before I go so you can go to bed? Or do you want to sleep on the couch?” Mark’s voice was quiet, and his palm rubbed circles on Gabe’s calf, which was not going to help him stay awake.

“How long are you staying?”

“At least until I see some whales. That’s the only reason I came over.”

Gabe tried for a playful kick, but even that took too much energy. It looked more like an uncoordinated leg spasm. Mark laughed at him anyway. Gabe refused to rise to the bait. Instead, he purposefully shut his eyes and went to sleep.

The next time he came to, it was dark outside, but a soft glow filled his apartment. Mark must have turned on a lamp. Gabe stretched his legs. Mark wasn’t on the couch with him anymore. He must have gone home.

There was a little dip of sadness in Gabe’s chest at the thought.

The dip didn’t last long. Mark’s legs came into view next to the couch. Gabe had to crane his neck to see the rest of him.

“Here.” Mark held out a glass of water and two green pills.

Gabe didn’t bother to sit up. He could swallow lying down. It was one of his hidden talents. He popped the pills and tilted the glass back. He spilled some on his shirt but couldn’t bring himself to care.

“How did you know I needed more medicine?”

Mark perched on the coffee table, resting his elbows on his knees and searching Gabe’s face. “Because I love you, and I pay attention. I’ve been here more than four hours and you haven’t had any. I figured it was time. Are you sure you don’t need to go to a doctor?”

Mark had been the first to say I love you, but Gabe had said it right back. Since then, Mark dropped casual I love yous every day. Gabe was more reserved, but Mark didn’t seem to mind. Gabe thought Mark knew even though he didn’t say it all the time, he still felt it.

He took another swig of water, managing not to spill that time. “Nah, it’s only a cold. Give it a couple of days, and I’ll be fine.”

A deep V creased the skin between Mark’s dark eyebrows, and the small lines around his eyes deepened. Gabe wanted to kiss him. Badly. He started to pull himself up, unsure if he’d actually kiss Mark or not, but at least wanting to be on eye level with him.

Mark cupped Gabe’s elbow and helped him sit. He didn’t look relieved by Gabe’s change of position. “I’ll take you to the doctor if you need to go. Whenever you need to go.”

Gabe smiled, but that didn’t seem to convince Mark either. “I’ll be fine. Promise. I already feel better than I did yesterday.”

He rose slowly as Mark pulled on the blankets wrapped around Gabe, keeping them away from Gabe’s feet so he wouldn’t trip. Mark was good at small things like that. Mark was good at everything.

He waited, shoulder propped against the bathroom doorway, while Gabe brushed his teeth. Gabe didn’t have the energy to shower or change from one set of sweats to another to sleep in. He wanted to collapse, face first, on the bed. Instead, Gabe let Mark pull back the covers and usher him in. Like he was a child.

It didn’t feel patronizing or condescending. It was comforting.

“You know, I could do this every night if you’d move in with me,” Mark teased.

Bringing up an ongoing argument with one party sick was unfair.

“You’re taking advantage of my weakened state.” Gabe rolled on his side and hugged a pillow to his chest. “Besides, you could do this every night if you moved in here too.”

Mark sat on the bed, tucked up against the bend in Gabe’s knees. “My place is closer to work.”

Gabe snorted. “You don’t seem to mind the drive anymore.”

“Yeah, but I’d rather have you at home, in a nice big bed on clean sheets, than in a bathroom.” He rubbed his broad palm from Gabe’s knee to his hip. The heat of it soaked through straight to Gabe’s skin.

“You didn’t complain before.” Gabe’s head pounded. He wanted to go to sleep, and to get out of this conversation.

Mark’s hand smoothed back down to his knee. “No complaints from me, just promise me you’re considering it.”

Of course Gabe was considering it. Mark first mentioned it weeks ago, around Thanksgiving, and Gabe had shut him down quickly. But the thought kept popping back into Gabe’s mind. He thought of it when his shower ran out of hot water and when his windows rattled in the winter wind. And when he’d started feeling sick without Mark there to take care of him.

He couldn’t spend all his time with Mark. He couldn’t move in with him.

And he definitely couldn’t afford the rent in Mark’s neighborhood. But that didn’t stop him from thinking about it.

Mark pressed a kiss to the crown of Gabe’s head. “I’ll come back tomorrow after work. Sleep and text me if there’s anything you need. Christmas is only eight days away.”

The bottom dropped out of Gabe’s stomach. Christmas. Meeting Mark’s family for the first time.

Maybe he’d stay sick all the way to next year. He could get out of it that way.

Mark kissed him again, stroking his lips across the curve of Gabe’s ear. “Sleep, love.”

He wasn’t getting out of this.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author

Gretchen Evans is a bisexual, cis woman living with her partner in North Carolina. Her day job involves figuring out the best way to ask people questions they don’t want to answer. In the evenings, she does hot yoga and watches any TV show that can be read as queer-coded. She only drinks beer disguised as root beer and her perfect Sunday involves half listening to an NFL game as she reads a book. She plans to continue writing queer romance with engaging characters, sexy times, and feelings. You can find Gretchen on Twitter.

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