Naughty Netherworld Press's Blog: Naughty Netherworld Press on Goodreads, page 17
June 9, 2025
Death and Maia Book Blast #GayBookPromotions
BOOK BLAST
Book Title: Death & Maia
Author and Publisher: A. C. Jolly
Cover Artist: Alyssa Winans
Release Date: April 24, 2025
Tense/POV: first person, present tense, single POV.
Genres: FF Dark Fantasy, Historical, Paranormal
Tropes: Fated mates
Heat Rating: 4 flames
Length: Approx 35 000 words/184 pages
It is a standalone book and does not end on a cliffhanger.
Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited and Paperback
Amazon US | Amazon UK | BookShop.org
Can love truly conquer death when mortality stands in the way?
Blurb
A lush, sapphic romantasy.
In the shadowed streets of plague-ridden Athens, Maia lies on the brink of death. When the grim reaper appears to claim her, Maia makes a bold request: a kiss.
Ancient and enigmatic, Lady Death has guided countless souls into the unknowable afterlife. But Maia is different. Her resilience and humour—and that kiss—awaken a desire that Death has never known. What begins as a moment of terrified curiosity deepens into a passion as tender as it is consuming.
Excerpt
There’s death and sheaves of hyacinth beside me in the chamber. The body of the other girl lies on the floor. I can see her in the darkness like a misshapen pale rock in a shallow puddle. I want to swim to her.
I was with her when she died. I didn’t know her name, but I told her mine.
“My name’s Maia,” I said. I don’t think she heard me. Her thin breath was drowned out by the music coming from the street below. A festival, the Anthestreria by the sounds. But I knew that she was still alive, and as long as she lived, I might. My wrists were tied above my head to a bracket on the wall.
“I’m here,” I said. “I’ll wait with you.”
But she drowned to death, or burned, or something. I didn’t know her name.
And now there’s only me, and the party downstairs is finished, and the street outside is quiet. Dawn has come and it finds me dying, too. I was working in a different neighbourhood with the other girl, who was so, so pretty. “Follow me,” I remember saying to a passerby, some young guy with an absent look and fancy laundered clothing. He smelled good. I took the pretty no-name girl by the hand because I wanted her with me, and the guy followed us down a narrow street to a doorway strung with many-coloured ropes.
After that I don’t remember much until the neighbourhood, below us, below our chamber, got fired up with the festival and its lights purred orange on the back wall. And then the music died and the sun rose, just about enough to see the flowers on the step beside the shuttered door, no doubt to cover up the smell of the body of the pretty no-name girl.
It’s hot in the chamber. I sit with my back against the wall, a rag across my stomach. I couldn’t tell you how many days I’ve been here. I’m starting to think that the fires and the music and the shouting in the street may not be festive at all, unless many months have passed since that pretty afternoon with the girl, the guy, the doorway with the many-coloured ropes. Unless the music that I’m hearing is carried to me from a far, far different quarter of this city or the next one over. I think about home. My cabin. I miss it. My tiny little cabin where I keep my only thing, a patterned clay horse figurine, on a stool beside the mattress.
The dim light fades. Maybe it’s another evening. And I’m still not dead. The hyacinth is failing at its job. It’s night again and I can’t remember what it’s like to have arms—well, what it’s like to feel them. They’re not actually tied to a bracket on the wall. That’s just fucking nonsense. They’ve fallen at my sides and don’t move.
The chamber fills with cooking-fire flakes and the music blares. I open my eyes, which rasp with dryness, and black smoke falls from the long, high slit of window at the top of the opposite wall. And if my nose wasn’t telling me otherwise, I’d think it wasn’t smoke at all but a river of perilous dark hair that runs down the wall, sinks down the wall, and starts to fill the chamber, flooding round the body of the pretty no-name girl, and I panic, thinking, Shit, she’s gonna drown!
But she’s dead already.
And this evening Death has come again, for me.
She kneels in front of me, a woman dressed in subtle linens. In her right hand she holds a moist and I assume human heart with fronds of cypress growing out its ventricles. She has the pale face of a barbarian and jet-black hair and dark eyes, not black but glorious brown and shot with other colours, whirling blue and green, each eye a round of deep sky reversed on a field of white moon.
She says, “You may ask something small of me, if it is reasonable.”
And although I’ve never actually heard her voice, I kind of already know it. You would too, if you came from my neighbourhood. And right now, in this moment, I’m determined not to ask her for a thing, but I know that won’t last. She is unspeakably lovely and ancient, and I’ll definitely crumble. But I play it out, anyway. “You took your time,” I say, because the truth is I should have died eight years ago, when a dated version of this fever took my parents and uncles and baby brothers, or five years ago, when my master and his favourite slaves were murdered by his business partner, or just a month ago, when a wild wolf-dog came down the alley and through the empty canteen where I was drinking down my supper.
She smiles briefly and her teeth are white and perfect. That smile makes me sure this is the way she prefers it done. I mean, if I was her, I’d enjoy the rude ones a lot more than the simps.
“My name’s Maia,” I say. “What should I call you, Lady?”
“My name is Death.”
Alright, so now I’m scared. My split lips sting with salt from tears and sweat. And I’m so fucking angry at myself because there’s no point in that, there’s no point in crying, because I have no choice. “I promised myself I wouldn’t cry,” I say, and my breastbone cracks as the breath coils, blooms, inside my body.
“Why promise that?” says Lady Death.
And she’s not holding the cypress heart anymore. Instead, a column of fine red dust drops from the funnel of her hand.
“I wanted to defy you,” I say raggedly. “You know how it goes.”
“I do,” she says. “But why waste time? Remember, you may ask something small of me, if it is reasonable.”
I take a breath.
“A kiss,” I say, because why not. “Is that reasonable?”
“Aye,” says Lady Death, and I suppose she’s granted this same favour a thousand million times before.
She has to come to me because I can’t move. She holds my face in her hands, and they’re warm like fire but do not burn, and her lips meet mine gently, and they’re soft and cool like mist but do not chill. Her tongue tastes of sweet apples, and peppery, exactly what I’d hope for from the wildest, freshest, most inspirited of oils. I keep my eyes shut tight because the final thing I want to see on earth is her mouth as she handed it to me.
I keep my eyes shut tight and say, “Who knew Death would be so beautiful?”
About the Author
I'm a writer from New Zealand, and now live in the UK with my wife. I wrote Death & Maia, which is about a romance between Lady Death and a mortal woman, after watching the TV series Agatha All Along and being a bit disappointed with the (lack of) backstory.
Author Links
The Spy New Release Blitz #IndiGo
Title: The Spy
Series: Princes of Toval, Book Three
Author: Mell Eight
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: 06/10/2025
Heat Level: 1 - No Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 57800
Genre: Historical fantasy, adventure, baking, magic, missing person, MM Romance, politics, royalty, spies
Add to Goodreads
DescriptionAfter spending two years away at culinary school, learning the arts of baking and magic, all Karl wants to do after graduation is return home to the kitchen where he grew up. However, when Karl's adoptive uncle asks him to do a little favor for him along his journey, of course Karl says yes. He needs to find a missing person, one who may have been captured somewhere in Yaroi, a neighboring country to Karl’s home in Toval.
Finding the missing person is hard enough. Add in each of their secretive pasts, and the implications and dangers inherent with being a Prince of Toval, and a simple rescue turns into a deadly adventure. Especially once Karl learns just why Ama was arrested in the first place. Karl’s chances of returning home to use his newly honed baking skills dwindle as escaping the situation with their heads still attached is proving to be almost impossible.ExcerptThe SpyMell Eight © 2025All Rights Reserved
PrologueAma knew how he had gotten into this situation. The Yarokai had excellent noses, so sniffing him out, tracking him down, and capturing him had been far easier than in most of the places Ama went to sneak around. Even his magic hadn’t been enough to prevent his capture, warning him too late that he should have taken his chances heading for the border rather than holing up and trying to hide.
What Ama didn’t know was how he was going to get out of this with his head still attached to the rest of his body. The Yarokai were, in general, a suspicious bunch, insular, and parochial. Any strangers in the cities within the country of Yaroi received extra scrutiny. Tracking them all had to be difficult, since the majority of Yaroi’s cities were coastal trade cities along the Eiroi Strait with merchants, sailors, and travelers from other countries coming and going constantly. They were the main entry port to the rest of the continent for land-based travel too, so Yaroi always had caravans of foreigners crossing through.
Ama had planned to blend in. He arrived at Yaroi’s capital city of Yari with a merchant caravan, acting as a guard to deter thieves, and then spent plenty of time each day visibly working to negotiate a contract to leave Yaroi with a different caravan. Only in the quiet hours around noon, when any good Yarokian was meditating and business was never conducted, or in the dark of night, had Ama tried sneaking around.
He had never failed so miserably.
Sensory deprivation was the worst sort of punishment for a Yarokai, so Ama’s cell didn’t have any windows to allow light or air in. The door was thick wood with only a small flap at the bottom to push meals through. While depriving sight, sound, and smell might be particularly terrible for the Yarokai, it wasn’t exactly a walk in the park for Ama either, especially since he was basically convicted before they could put him on stage for a sham trial.
At least Ama would go to his execution knowing his last mission had been successful. Queen Trina would be relieved to know that much. Aunt Millie would be sad to know he was gone, although given her abilities, she probably already knew he was in trouble. She was too far away to help, though, so Ama wasn’t counting on that. Aunt Millie knew better too. In her four years since taking the throne in Namin, she had become a good and trustworthy ruler, and Namin was beginning to return to prosperity. She wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that, including engaging with Yaroi on his behalf, particularly after what he had just done. Even if Yaroi didn’t use military assets to attack Namin, they controlled the trade from the Eiroi Strait. If they leveled extra tariffs on Namese goods or simply refused to allow Namese goods to be traded through Yaroi ports, Namin’s economy would backslide. No, Ama was definitely on his own there.
At least Ama had visited home recently, to see all his aunts, uncles, and cousins, and had visited Namin too. Seeing Aunt Millie was always fun. She had been too busy at the time to really talk though. The last time Ama had actually sat down with her alone for more than a hurried lunch, before she went on to her next meeting and Ama returned to work, had been four years ago, right after her coronation. Ama had hoped her words at the time meant he had a happy future in front of him, but now he knew better. She had meant he shouldn’t worry about his future because he would be executed before he had a chance to actually achieve his dreams.
“If you want my advice, I think you should continue adventuring on Prince Braxton’s behalf. Have some fun for a few more years, and maybe someday you’ll find whatever it is you’re actually searching for.”
Even Toval, who had assigned him this delicate mission, wouldn’t be able to save him. They couldn’t admit they had sent him to Yaroi, that they were involved at all, nor that they knew Ama even existed—all for the same reasons Namin wouldn’t dare help Ama. No, Ama had to take complete responsibility for this fiasco. That was the only way to save Toval and Namin, as well as to ensure the last parts of this mission were successful.
Ama shifted on the hard stone bench, the only furniture in his cell, and leaned against the rock wall, attempting to get as comfortable as possible. He tried to focus on happier memories as he waited to die.
The first time he had seen Prince Braxton, looking so strong and powerful on a horse as he rode through Ama’s home village. Ama making the decision to help Prince Braxton any way he could and going about gathering information so he could convince Braxton to hire him. The second time he had seen Braxton, he had snuck into Braxton’s camp and startled him. Once Braxton calmed down, Ama had managed to convince Braxton Ama was only there to share information. That memory made him smile.
Another of his favorite memories was more recent. Namin’s aggressions against Toval had grown too much, so Toval had decided to intervene by sending troops to support a coup. Braxton had asked if Ama might be able to find someone suitable to sit on the Namin throne after they removed the king of the time, which meant finding someone capable of wielding Namin’s royal magic. Ama had traveled only a few hours before finding Aunt Millie, who had chosen to come to him, to support Ama in Ama’s quest to help Braxton in any way the Tovalians needed. Now Aunt Millie was Queen Carmillian of Namin.
Ama couldn’t say how much time passed as he sat in the tiny prison cell, inwardly focused on his memories —a couple days, at least, but he couldn’t be sure. Food came, but not at regular intervals, so Ama couldn’t use that to gauge time. After what felt like a very, very long time, he finally heard the scrape as the lock was turned. The door opened with a slow groan, the light beyond almost blinding Ama. He blinked, trying to clear the spots from his vision, and a grinning guard eventually came into view. A pair of manacles in his hands were held out in Ama’s direction.
“Your punishment has been decided,” the guard stated as Ama stood and walked over to the door, arms outheld for the guard to place the manacles around Ama’s wrists. He didn’t say anything more, instead, shoving Ama forward so he stood in the middle of a circle of guards. They walked for a while, the floor sloping slowly upward, only the torches set into the walls at intervals supplying any light. The group paused when they reached a door, then waited for the guard in front to unlock it and pull the door open. He stepped aside and waved for Ama to go through first.
The guards and the excited crowd surrounding the perimeter of the stone-flagged amphitheater just outside the door let Ama get a good look at his punishment for a few long moments. Eager anticipation emanated from the crowd as they let him take it all in. Ama swallowed hard, but his resolve was firm. He would complete his mission no matter what they did to him.
“Anytime you want to tell us everything, this will stop,” the guard growled in Ama’s ear.
“There’s nothing to tell. I didn’t do anything wrong,” Ama replied. He tried to sound unconcerned, but his throat was dry and stomach clenched. He had hoped for a quick hanging or beheading, not a slow death like this, but either way, he would endure–for the sake of everyone he had to protect.
He had to.PurchaseNineStar Press | Books2Read
Meet the AuthorWhen Mell Eight was in high school, she discovered dragons. Beautiful, wondrous creatures that took her on epic adventures both to faraway lands and on journeys of the heart. Mell wanted to create dragons of her own, so she put pen to paper. Mell Eight is now known for her own soaring dragons, as well as for other wonderful characters dancing across the pages of her books. While she mostly writes paranormal or fantasy stories, she has been seen exploring the real world once or twice.Website | Facebook | TwitterGiveawayOne lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code! a Rafflecopter giveaway 
June 8, 2025
Forbidden Lust #GayBookPromotions
NEW RELEASE
Book Title: Forbidden Lust
Author: Oliver Takely
Cover Artist: Emily’s World of Design
Release Date: June 6, 2025
Genres: Contemporary MM Romance
Tropes: Forbidden love, age gap
Themes: Insta love
Heat Rating: 4 flames
Length: 33 000 words
Each book in the Sinful Knights series is a standalone and can be read in any order.
It does not end on a cliffhanger.
Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited
Universal Link | Amazon US | Amazon UK
Two hearts, one secret connection: will lust turn to love?
Blurb
In the City of London, Josh works tirelessly to provide financial security for his younger sister, following the tragic deaths of his parents. He longs for a connection with his birth father who doesn’t want Josh to wreck his perfect life. Mature beyond his years, Josh craves the love and stability of an older man to anchor him.
Daniel, a wildly successful lawyer, works hard and plays even harder. His heart is closed to love after the betrayal of his ex-husband, until he meets Josh, twenty years his junior, and the executive assistant of one of his clients. Their chemistry ignites during a passionate weekend, initially driven by lust, awakening feelings Daniel never thought he’d experience again.
But fate has a cruel twist in store: Daniel’s best friend is also Josh’s birth father, making their love utterly forbidden. With a tempting offer on the table from his father to walk away, will Josh choose financial security or take a chance on love? And can Daniel convince Josh that the only choice he needs to make is to follow his heart?
Excerpt
The warmth of the coffee shop was a welcome relief from the biting cold of January. The UK weather was always unpredictable, but it was guaranteed January and February would be ball-freezing cold.
“Good morning, Daniel,” said Jakub, the owner.
Daniel had moved to Hampstead three years ago after selling the marital home and finalising his divorce. He’d been coming to this independent coffee shop ever since. Jakub knew him well, and he raised a questioning brow when Josh was looking the other way. All Daniel could do was smile and act like it was nothing. The fact was, in all the time he’d lived in this area, he’d never brought another man to his favourite little coffee haunt.
“Morning, Jakub. My usual please. Josh, what would you like?”
Josh was in his own world, looking at the eclectic décor of the coffee shop. If you knew Jakub, it was very him – chaotic yet calm. A mishmash of different chairs and tables packed in, with nothing matching. Calm pastel colours on the walls, with a variety of art from local queer talent.
“Josh.”
Daniel put his hand on Josh’s shoulder, causing him to startle a little. He turned and smiled, looking a bit embarrassed. Daniel loved how much he blushed, because it made him look even more adorably cute.
“What would you like to drink?”
“Oh, erm . . .”
Josh looked up at the menu board, looking uncertain about what to choose. Jakub had a great place here, but the choices were limited to the staples. Daniel was getting irritated – not at Josh’s indecisiveness, but at what had happened to the assertive, needy boy who’d begged for his cock earlier.
“You can’t go wrong with one of my cappuccinos,” said Jakub, picking up on the awkwardness.
Josh let out an audible sigh of relief and nodded at Jakub. He shot a “what the fuck” look at Daniel as he steered Josh to a table. The coffee shop wasn’t too busy; it was past the lunch rush. After their breakfast, and morning fuck, they’d had another nap before showering together. Then he’d dropped to his knees and sucked another load out of Josh. Oh, to be twenty-five again.
“Are you okay, Josh?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Tell me if I’m overstepping here, but you seemed overwhelmed when you were ordering your coffee.”
“Oh, that’s just how I am.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m indecisive when there are lots of choices. That’s why I love my job with Oscar. He’s very clear in what he wants. No room for ambiguity. Life’s easier that way, don’t you think?”
It was hard to argue with his logic, but life just wasn’t like that. It was constant ambiguousness and second-guessing. Intuition was essential for survival, and he wasn’t sure if Josh went with his gut very often.
“Is there anything you’ve got going on now that you’re struggling to decide about? Maybe I can help, as a neutral observer,” he smiled.
“Spoken like a true lawyer.”
Daniel chuckled. He wasn’t wrong there, but what he really wanted was for Josh to open up to him and share what was bothering him, because something was.
“I guess . . . well . . . please don’t take this the wrong way . . .”
About the Author
Oliver Takely is a passionate MM romance author who revels in dark, edgy stories featuring complex, flawed characters. With years of writing experience and a creative day job, Oliver Takely is also an avid reader of MM romance, consuming 300 books in both 2023 and 2024. His favourite trope is enemies to lovers, but is also a sucker for a feel-good Christmas romance.
Originally from the north, Oliver now resides in the south of England with his husband and their beloved fur baby, who is treated like a princess, living their own happily-ever-after straight out of a romance novel. When not writing or reading, he enjoys holidays and indulging in lots of good food, because who doesn’t love a delicious combination?
Author Links
Website | Facebook | Instagram
Giveaway
Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win
one of five free ebook copies of Forbidden Lust
A Flash of Golden Fire New Release Blitz #IndiGo
Title: A Flash of Golden Fire
Series: The Arrow and the Flame, Book One
Author: AE Lister
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: 06/03/2025
Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 337 PAGES
Genre: Historical Fantasy, action/adventure, age gap, BDSM, pirates, sailors, hurt/comfort, magic/magic-user, menage, foul-mouthed bird
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DescriptionTwenty-two-year-old Simon White begs for a place on Captain Dinesh Martin's pirate ship, the Arrow. When he proves hilariously inadequate at most tasks, he finds himself in the captain's quarters as cabin boy, housekeeper, and bed warmer.
Captain Martin used to be a British naval officer, until he became disenchanted with the hypocrisy, racism, and classism of the institution and embarked on a life of piracy. He runs an organized and efficient vessel and prides himself on the men with whom he surrounds himself. He is esteemed and admired, and he gives them as good a life as they've ever known.
But Simon has more than a few surprises up his sleeve, including some frightening powers, and Dinesh learns that sometimes a pretty appearance and amenable disposition can fool even an experienced man of the seas.
The following excerpt contains mature subject matter, making it suitable only for readers 18+.ExcerptA Flash of Golden FireAE Lister © 2025All Rights Reserved
Salvation
Port Royal, 1781
The sea smelt of salt and death.
The bustling port city on the southern shores of Jamaica ran with booty and blood. The Brethren of the Coast or, more familiarly, men of dubious employ, otherwise known as pirates, came to the city to trade the goods they had amassed at sea in questionable circumstances. Of course, there was honour among thieves and all of that, but there were also short tempers and ravenous appetites for more than food and good ale.
Food and ale…
I licked my cracked lips and huddled deeper into the threadbare jacket I’d pulled off a washing line an hour earlier. It was the only clean thing on me, in fact. My other garments were stained and filthy, like my frigid skin.
So far, this coastal town hadn’t fulfilled its imaginary promise of a fresh and welcome start. I’d left the town of my birth to embark on a new life, thinking that my luck might be better in Port Royal.
Born in Spanish Town to missionary parents, I had been orphaned at twelve, following a calamity that had left them dead, and I was lucky enough to have been taken in by a friend of my mother’s, who saw to it to educate and care for me as best he could. My life was decent, though dull, until the age of twenty-one when he died of yellow fever, and I was forced to look to my own means for survival. I should have found my own way before that advanced age, but Carago had enjoyed looking out for me, since his wife had died in birthing his only son, who had lived for three days before following her.
Perhaps my childlike attitude and spoilt sense of entitlement were due to Carago’s fatherly indulgences, although innocence had flown from me long before his passing.
So far, in Port Royal, I’d been attacked at knifepoint by a fearsome fellow the night after I’d arrived and also robbed of all my belongings but for a meagre allotment of coin that I’d hidden in my boot. He’d left me with a sore shoulder, a black eye, and a newfound respect for, and fear of, strange men.
In Spanish Town, my encounters with strange men had been more cordial, although nothing I would ever have described to Carago, who, to my bad luck, had held a similar attitude to those of my father and wider society. An unruly mop of red hair and a face full of freckles had ensured me a boyish countenance that I’d likely retain into middle age—God willing I got there to enjoy the benefit. Men liked the look of me, to be frank, and I hadn’t lacked for companionship, although only in brief, physical bursts that had still proved rewarding.
I’d heard of the Brethren of the Coast—supposedly a breed of men who’d taken to a life of piracy with a different kind of philosophy, holding themselves to a higher standard than the average swashbuckling vagabond. If these visionaries did, in fact, exist, and if I could find one of them and beg for a place aboard his ship, perhaps I could prove my worth and gain passage off this pisspot of an island. A life at sea was a much better prospect than one on land at this point, and I was ready for an adventure.
I ducked into a tavern called The Penny Whistle to get out of the rain that now came in torrents, but not before I became soaked to the skin and chilled further. Quite a sorry thing to be so adrift at twenty-two, bedraggled and wet and without prospects.
The tavern was warm, at least, and nobody turned me out. A fire roared and crackled in a large hearth, in front of which a motley group of strangely attired men were seated at tables, their attention captured by an imposing figure who stood with his elbow on the mantle as he regaled them with animated voice and gestures.
I slunk to a stool by the bar and sat, my stomach cramping as the scent of cooking food filled my nostrils. I soon found myself as transfixed as the others.
The man was everything a pirate captain ought to be.
He was of indefinable race—likely a mixture of at least two. He was exceptionally handsome in a way far beyond his physical appearance, which was unique and appealing. And he was an excellent orator, regaling his audience with honeyed words and dramatic cadence.
He wore the jacket of a British officer, although the item had seen years of wear, and the badges had been removed, or torn from the cloth. The garment looked fine on him and gave him a ruffled distinction. His shirt and breeches were navy issue as well. He looked more put together than his crew, who sported the mismatched garb of unaligned men of the sea. He had the accent of a British officer and the elocution of a magistrate.
The serving wench made her presence known, approaching the captain, laughing in the way women do when they want a man to think of them fondly. But as far as I could tell, her charms weren’t working upon him.
The crew was another matter.
“Oy, my darling, come here and perch on me knee awhile,” a heavyset fellow suggested, leering at the young woman and waggling his eyebrows.
“Now, now, Mister Denbrooke. What would your wife think?” the captain said with an indulgent smile.
“My wife, Captain Martin,” Mr Denbrooke said, “is probably spreading her ample thighs for the butcher and the baker at the moment. So she wouldn’t care a damn.”
Captain Martin. I’d been right in my supposition.
“Oh, go on,” the girl said and flounced to the bar where she frowned and pretended to be unaffected by the captain’s disinterest.
Everyone laughed and the captain grinned wider.
“Never was able to keep her satisfied,” Mr Denbrooke continued. “I’ve only got one cock, and she likes to have three at once.”
The men laughed and Captain Martin nodded.
“Hmm. Well, I can’t fault your wife for that,” he said.
The men laughed harder and some even hooted, and my foggy brain couldn’t keep up.
I concentrated on dealing with the hunger pangs that assailed me and rehearsed ways I could approach this formidable man who took up space with such entitled ease.
“Hello, my name is Simon White. I’d like a position on your ship.” Or, perhaps I should say, “Simon White here. You gotta place for me on board?” or “I’m strong and quick—when I’m fed, at least—Are you taking on crew?”
None of these were likely to get me what I needed, so I sat there, suffering, whilst they shoveled beef stew into their gobs and tore up whole loaves of bread to devour amongst themselves. My mouth became dry as I watched. What I wouldn’t do for an ale or even a paltry glass of water.
There were things I’d thought about doing. Things that men paid dearly for in the back alleys and the whorehouses. But I couldn’t bear the thought of trading an activity I enjoyed so much for food and drink or coin. I hadn’t gotten to a point so desperate to fall into that. If I could only get onto Captain Martin’s ship, I wouldn’t have to contemplate a life of whoredom.PurchaseNineStar Press | Books2Read
Meet the AuthorAE Lister is a Canadian non-binary author with a vivid imagination and a head full of unique and interesting characters. They write explicit, adult LGBTQ+ romance. They also write much less graphic Young Adult LGBTQ+ romance under Alison Lister.Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Instagram | Bookbub | SubstackGiveawayOne lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code! a Rafflecopter giveaway
June 7, 2025
Kitten's Bunny New Release Blitz #IndiGo
Title: Kitten's Bunny
Author: Wanda Violet O.
Cover Art: Marteeka Karland
Genres: BDSM, Contemporary, New Releases, Razor's Edge Erotica, Romance
Themes: Age Gap (Older Man), LGBTQ+ /Bisexual, Nonbinary, Transgender, Mafia & Organized Crime, Multiple Partners /Polyamory, Voyeurism and Exhibitionism
Series: Billionaire Daddy Doms -- Bunny (#3)
Multiverse: Billionaire Daddy Doms (#1)
Book Length: Novella
Page Count: 34
SynopsisWarning: This is a Razor’s Edge Daddy Dom BDSM Erotica short story. Expect limited plot and character development, and lots of heat. If you’re looking for a lengthy plot driven erotic romance, this is not it! I’ve never been happier in my life than I am since I’ve come to live with Max. Then I meet Kitten and my world changes again. She’s kind and sweet and, oh, so sensual.
I’m about to find out what it’s like to be Kitten’s Bunny.ExcerptKitten's Bunny (Billionaire Daddy Doms -- Bunny 3)Wanda Violet O.All rights reserved.Copyright ©2025 Wanda Violet O.
“There you are, Bunny!”
I had been enjoying the warm spring air wafting through the open window and seating a bunny tail butt plug into my ass when the door to the bedroom I shared with Max burst open. I was bent over at the waist adjusting the end of the tail while looking back in a three-way mirror set up specifically for this purpose. The plug had a curved silicone extension that fit between my cheeks so that the puffy tail sat at the base of my spine.
I grinned over my shoulder at the small woman. She had on a headband with cat ears and a long, furry cat tail that swished with the sway of her hips as she moved. Normally. Right now, the tail was trailing along behind her as she bounded toward me in her excitement. Like me, the ears and tail were all she was wearing. I barely got turned around before she threw herself at me. Kitten was very affectionate, once she got to know you.
I wasn’t too proud to admit the feel of Kitten’s lithe body pressed against mine was a bit of a turn on. Though I appreciated a beautiful body, whether man or woman, I’d never been particularly attracted to a woman before. But Kitten was special, and I was certainly susceptible to her charms. Probably because, since I’d been with Max, he’d kept me in a heightened state of arousal almost continually. And I enjoyed every fucking second of our play.
I returned her hug with a tight, happy hug of my own. “I’m almost ready. Do you know what’s going on?”
Kitten nipped my ear playfully. “Yep. Come on.”
I laughed at her lightheartedness. Kitten loved to play. Right now, she had what looked like a case of the zoomies. She’d most certainly been aptly named. We’d been fast friends almost from the moment we met. Had that been five months ago? Daddy Jacob had insisted on waiting to introduce me to Kitten until he was sure I wasn’t going to hurt her by leaving abruptly. He’d been right. Kitten loved with her whole heart, and I was honored to have found a place in her life. “Wait! I need my ears!”
Kitten huffed out a mock exasperated breath, but I saw her lips twitch. “So high maintenance. It’s a good thing you have me.” We giggled as she helped me with my bunny ears and gave my hair one last fluff. “Max will be so proud of you.” Practically bouncing on her toes, she gave me a huge smile as she moved around the room looking for… something. Another accessory for my hair? Different bunny ears? I was partial to the pink ones. In the end she didn’t change anything, only fussed over me. With every excited squeal, Kitten’s breasts jiggled enticingly. I knew she had a child, and maybe there were a few stretch marks on her tummy, but her body was tight and toned, her breasts small but firm and perfectly formed.
“Are we ready? I think we’re ready!” The smile on Kitten’s face was so beautiful she nearly took my breath. She was flushed with excitement, which fueled my own anticipation. Whatever was about to happen was something she was looking forward to in the extreme.
It wasn’t unusual for us to help each other get ready when one of our men decided to share us. Kitten often helped me pick out different tails and ears when my turn came to be the entertainment after one of Daddy Jacob’s meetings. We always had great fun.
We hurried down the long hall together, both of us giggling. I was hand in hand with Kitten as she took us to the grand staircase. Naked. Fun times! We skipped playfully down the stairs, laughing the whole way. I was becoming more and more aroused the longer I was in Kitten’s company. The woman simply oozed sex appeal, and I was not immune. I didn’t know the protocol for this kind of situation, so I’d feel much better once I was with Max again. Or at least had him give me the OK to do whatever.
Enzo stood at the bottom of the stairs, greeting us with a warm smile. He was not only in charge of security for all of us, but also Daddy Jacob’s oldest and most trusted friend. Kitten launched herself at Enzo with a squeal, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist in delight.
Enzo’s warm chuckle filled the massive formal entry hall. “Ah, little Kitten. You’re full of energy this evening, aren’t you?”
“I am, Enzo. Are you joining us later?” Kitten smiled up at him. Enzo’s affection for Kitten was obvious. Same as Kitten’s affection for Enzo was plain to see.
The big man gave her one hard squeeze before gently setting her on her feet. “Afraid not. I’m sure I’ll see you both soon though.” He gave me a wink as he bent to kiss Kitten on the lips. She giggled and wrapped her arms back around him so he could deepen the kiss, sweeping his tongue into her mouth until Kitten was purring like, well, a Kitten.
“Enzo.” Daddy Jacob stepped out of his study and leaned against the doorframe, shaking his head. If I’d thought Daddy Jacob would be angry or jealous another man was kissing his wife, I’d have been wrong. Daddy Jacob grinned and shook his head as if Kitten’s antics amused him. “Would you be so kind as to allow me the use of my wife this evening?”
Enzo smiled down at Kitten with affection and not a small amount of lust. “Only if you let me have the privilege of her company later in the week when I’m not on duty.”
“You’re always on duty,” Daddy Jacob shot back, but his lips spread wider and his eyes were merry. “But I think we can work something out.”Purchase at Changeling Press
Meet the AuthorWelcome to Wanda Violet O.'s world of bedtime fantasy, where you'll find a variety of sexy creatures ready to drink their fill. Wanda specializes in extreme kink. Monsters, BDSM role play... she's got it all. Come take a look for yourself!GiveawayOne lucky winner will receive a $10.00 Changeling Press Gift Code! a Rafflecopter giveaway
June 6, 2025
Whispers Where the Wildflowers Bloom Book Blitz #rabtbooktours
Women's Fiction
Date Published: March 15, 2025
She was never meant to bloom-but she did.
Amelia Harper was born into a world of privilege, but behind closed doors, her life was anything but charmed. Shaped by a childhood of deep scars and silent battles, Amelia spends years forging her own path, determined to build a future that doesn’t belong to her pain. As she rises from the shadows to become a successful business owner, an unexpected love with Ethan offers her a chance to heal, not by forgetting the past, but by blooming beyond it.
Whispers Where The Wildflowers Bloom is a raw, moving journey through survival, self-discovery, and the enduring strength it takes to reclaim your life. In a world where hope can seem impossible, Amelia reminds us that beauty still grows — even in the most barren of places.
About the Author
Jhani Mills writes emotionally charged stories where resilience, betrayal, love, and survival collide with lyrical force. She is the two-time award-winning author of Astral Seeds: Eclipse of the Celestial War, the first installment of her epic Astral Seeds trilogy. Her body of work also includes Whispers Where The Wildflowers Bloom and the explosive The Devil in Fine Print, the beginning of a bold new series blending conspiracies, science, and survival against impossible odds.
Known for crafting unforgettable characters and worlds where hope is a rebel force, Jhani’s stories are a testament to the beauty that blooms from broken ground. When she's not writing, she can be found chasing sunsets, savoring strong coffee, and believing fiercely that some of the most beautiful things in life bloom from broken ground and the quietest revolutions often leave the deepest scars — and the brightest legacies.
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June 5, 2025
Olly's Journey Book Blitz #rabtbooktours
Children's Book
Date Published: April 21, 2025
Join Olly the octopus, on a captivating underwater adventure in "Olly's Journey."
When a tidal surge sweeps away his friends, Olly faces a choice: remain in the safety of his cave or summon the courage to rescue them.
In this heartwarming tale, Olly's Journey becomes a profound exploration of bravery, friendship and self-discovery. As he confronts his deepest fears, can this once-timid octopus transform into a hero?
About the Author
G.D. Griffiths currently lives in Redondo Beach, California, with his wife, eleven-year-old son and, of course, Rhea, the insatiable German Shepherd.
Originally from Wales, G.D. has always loved stories and creating worlds of imagination. Having worked with children for a number of years, he observed that their learning process was quicker when the subject was crafted within some type of story. This is what led to this book.
When he’s not writing, he’ll either be out exploring with his family, floating on his kayak seeking inspiration, or brushing the relentless amount of dog hair from his clothes and furniture.
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Broken Sentinel Release Blitz #rabtbooktours
Splinter Faction, Book 1
Dystopian Romance
Date Published: June 6, 2025
She was engineered to be perfect. Perfect for the system she's about to break.
Elite Sentinel Zara Thorne has dedicated her life to protecting Unity from Splinter contamination in a world ravaged by climate change. But when her body begins developing impossible abilities, she discovers the terrifying truth: she carries the very modifications she was trained to eliminate.
Forced to flee with her partner Trent Vanguard, the man she's secretly desired for years, Zara escapes into the wasteland. But safety comes with betrayal when Trent reveals he's known her true nature all along—their entire partnership was built on lies.
Seeking refuge among those she once hunted, Zara meets Vex—a fiercely modified Splinter who embodies everything Unity taught her to despise. Everything Trent isn't. Wild. Untamed. Dangerously alluring.
As her modifications accelerate and Unity closes in, Zara is caught between two men who represent opposing futures. One who protected her while deceiving her. One who challenges everything she's ever believed.
The wasteland isn't the only thing that's toxic. So are secrets. And Zara's might change humanity's future forever.
About the Author
Hi! I'm Alicia LeFleur. I've been writing for most of my life, though I've recently decided to lean into the romance genre. I believe in the magic of happily ever afters and think they're crucial in a time like this when people need more light and hope in their lives. I also believe that romance is healing, not only for the reader but for the writer as well. I hope my stories will make you swoon while bringing you steamy entertainment in all sorts of genres.
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June 4, 2025
Bolo the Brave Teaser #rabtbooktours
Kids Western Adventure
Date Published: 04-17-2025
Publisher: Speaking Volumes
You can learn a lot from a dog . . .
Meet Charlie Spears, a 10-year-old boy living on the High Plains of Texas in the late 1800s. Charlie lives with his Grandpa Will, who runs a chuckwagon, feeding all the adventurous folks traveling West in wagon trains. After losing his parents to illness, Charlie is often lonely and longs for a true friend. One day, by a stroke of luck and a big wag of a tail, Charlie meets a funny-looking dog named Bolo, who is also looking for a friend. Together, they embark on a journey where Charlie learns important life lessons.
In the first story: Bolo the Brave, Charlie discovers the meaning of courage and how to face challenges when a friend is in danger.
In the second story: True Friend, Charlie gains valuable insight—not to judge people by their limitations, but rather by their actions and character.
In the third story: Outcast, Charlie and his friends learn the importance of getting to know someone instead of passing judgment based on their appearance.
Together, Charlie and Bolo make new friends, confront dangers, and grow through valuable life lessons. As the story reminds us, you can learn a lot from a dog.
Excerpt
The wind blows almost all the time out on the Texas plains. It’s so constant that the only time you really notice it is during those rare times when it isn’t blowing. Today was a good day. The sun was shining and the wind wasn’t gusting so hard that you had to lean into it to keep from being blown over … or in the case of a ten year old, being blown away.
Standing beside his grandpa’s chuckwagon, Charlie looked up from his chores to see the strange looking dog he’d met the day before trotting up with a stick in his mouth. The dog came right up and laid the stick on the ground in front of him. Then he looked at Charlie expectantly, an expression that resembled a crooked smile.
Charlie threw the stick and the dog brought it back. He did it again with the same result. The stick looked funny in his crooked snout and it made Charlie laugh when the dog jumped around as he waited for him to throw it again. Charlie wondered what was wrong with the dog’s nose. It went straight almost to the end and then suddenly took a left turn; almost like someone had grabbed it and twisted. The dog couldn’t quite close his mouth on that side of his snout. Looking at the dog, he laughed again.
It felt good to laugh. Since both of his parents died of pneumonia a year ago and he came to live with his Grandpa Will, Charlie felt sad and lonely a lot of the time. His grandpa was a good man and he took good care of Charlie, but losing both your parents when you’re nine years old is one of the hardest things anyone could ever face.
“You make me happy, you funny looking dog,” Charlie said to the canine that jumped around in front of him. “I don’t know where you came from but I’m glad you’re here.”
About the Author
Jim Jones is a native Texan who lives in Rio Rancho, NM. In addition to being a Western novelist, he is also an award-winning Western singer/songwriter (International Western Music Association 2014 Male Performer of the Year; IWMA Song of the Year Award, 2019; Western Writers of America Spur Award, 2013, 2017 & 2021 for Western Song of the Year) who performs at festivals, coffeehouses and other venues throughout the West. Rustler's Moon, Jim's first novel, was a finalist in two categories for the 2009 New Mexico Book Awards, Best Historical Fiction and Best First Book. His novel, Colorado Moon, 2011, is the second in the Jared Delaney Series and it won the Western Music Association's 2011 Award for Outstanding Western Book. The third book in the series, Waning Moon, was published in 2013 and was also a New Mexico/Arizona Book Awards Finalist for Best Historical Fiction. The Big Empty, a spinoff series, was published in 2016 by Five Star Publishing and it, too, was a NM/AZ Book Awards Finalist in the Best Historical Fiction category. The second book in the spinoff series, The Lights of Cimarron, was published by Five Star in early 2019. The fourth book in the Jared Delaney Series, Halo Moon, was released in November, 2022 and won the 2023 AZ/NM Book Award for the Best in Adventure category. Jim creates gripping Old West characters about whom readers in the 21st century can care deeply. They struggle with tough economic times and corrupt government officials...wait, that's going on right now! Guess what, it was happening then, too. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Jim is a proud member of both the Western Writers of America and the Western Music Association. Although he writes about cattle rustling, Jim has never rustled cattle.
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https://mybook.to/BolotheBrave
June 3, 2025
Insecure Writers Support Group June 4, 2025: Impacting Young Minds
Free Use Image from Pixabay"I always had good taste in literature, Puppy.""You always had weird taste in everything, Owl."
June 4 question:What were some books that impacted you as a child or young adult?
I was a precocious reader. I learned to read Dr. Seuss at the age of four. By the time I was six, I was delving into the twisted mind of Edgar Allan Poe. Scarier still, I understood what Poe was talking about, even with the flowery Victorian prose. I loved it then, and I love it to this day.
That explains the emergence of C. L. Hart, author of dark Lovecraftian (and Poe-esque, and Kingly) fantasy and horror.
On the flip side, C. L. Hart also writes sweet romance. Hard though it may be to believe in these days of cronely curmudgeonry, I used to have a romantic bone somewhere in my body. I still enjoy reading and writing romance, but in real life, I find the idea more fantastical than anything Poe or Lovecraft ever penned.
Now, how do I explain the emergence of Lil DeVille, the Queen of Cheeky Smut?
Well...
We didn't have none of that Internet thingy when I was twelve years old in 1977. We did, however, have libraries. The library in the college town where my family lived was always busy, so, unless the title was something completely blatant like Sixty-Nine Spicy Sex Stories, the librarians were too busy to consider the appropriateness of the book for an impressionable young mind.
Oddly enough, I wasn't particularly aroused by the over-the-top steaming hot subject matter, but it was fun to read. The fact that I wasn't supposed to read it made it even more of a kick. It also added a new twist to the fan fiction I wrote.
If any of you ever find said fan fiction, I'll have to kill you. It was very cringy self-insert stuff written by a lonely teenage girl who didn't entirely have a grasp on what she was writing about, but she had a lot of fun writing it.
I wrote three types of fan fiction: buddy stories, sweet romantic stories, and Tsar Bomba-level melt your pants and your eyeballs stories.
Those are still the kinds of stories I write. The steamy ones are no longer as cringeworthy. At least I hope they aren't! I strive for over-the-top levels of heat, but I also incorporate realistic considerations.
I hope you enjoyed this post. As I always say, if men don't find me either attractive or handy, they should at least find me mildly amusing in a warped sort of way.
Ornery Owl Has Spoken
https://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/p/iwsg-sign-up.html
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