Gabrielle Evans's Blog

Welcome Kalista Kyle!

Thank you so much for letting me blog with you.  I am really very excited about the release of Shadow Games.  This is actually the second book in the West Wind Series.   Out of the Shadows is number one.  Dreaming of you is 1.5 and concentrates on the council. Then Shadow Games goes back to the West Wind Wolves at number two.  Amazon did not allow me to make a 1.5 so it is labeled as number three… did I confuse you yet J  


Shadow Games brings back Heath Mathis from Out of the Shadows. He is a detective in the West Wind Police force. He is also the brother of the new Alpha of West Wind.  Heath is strong but vulnerable in this book. He really has his hands full. 
Ezra is the Beta to the West Wind Pack.  He has always loved Heath but life has not allowed them to be together. Now when Heath is put in dangers way Ezra will do anything to protect him and make sure his mate lives. 

Welcome Laurie Roma!

3013: SALVATION



The fifth book in this best selling sci-fi/futuristic series!











Officer Skylar Aris is a woman with a troubled past. As a Class-A Conduit, she is beautiful and deadly, making her stand out among the rest of the Elite soldiers. She has worked hard to

Release Day for Haunted Heart by Zayne Michaels!

HAUNTED HEARTONCE UPON A MIDNIGHT MOON
M/M Paranormal, werewolves27,700 words


Available Now From:
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Convinced a clean break was the only way to protect the man he loved, Micah Hayden shut down, closed himself off, and spent more than a decade running from his mistakes. Twelve miserable years later, he’s come home to take his rightful place as Alpha, and if he has his say in the matter, reclaim the love that was stolen from him.When Micah kicked him out and crushed his heart, August Tucker didn’t think he’d ever heal from the loss. Slowly, though, he rebuilt his life—a life far away from the painful memories of the past. So, when he learns Micah is back in town and wants to see him, August knows he should refuse, because even a brief reunion could destroy the walls he’s built around his heart.Unfortunately, he may not have a choice. Someone wants him dead, someone willing to go to any lengths to succeed. With his list of allies growing thin, he has no choice but to turn to his old love for help.But can Micah put aside his own uncertainties to be the hero August needs? Or will history be repeated when ghosts of the past resurface determined to finish what was put into motion all those years ago?
Available Now From:
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CHAPTER ONEReclining in his office chair, August Tucker kicked his shoes off and propped his feet up on the desk with a silent groan. “Ok, you’re definitely going to be here Thursday, right?”It felt like the hundredth time the question had been posed in the last twenty-four hours, and August barely bit back his sigh. “Yes, Meredith,” he answered into the phone. “My last appointment is at noon Thursday. I’ll be on the highway before rush hour.”“I still don’t get why you’re driving all the way from Tulsa.”Considering how little they had in common, it still amazed him that they’d ever become friends. Maybe it had something to do with the fact they were both too stubborn to let those little differences stand in their way. Whatever the reason, they’d made it work and had been inseparable since junior high, even after August had packed up his things and moved halfway across the country to nurse his broken heart.“It’s not that far to Indianapolis.”Most people probably wouldn’t agree, but nine hours didn’t feel like a chore. If nothing drastic happened, he could probably make it in eight.“Besides, I like to drive,” he reminded her. August found the hum of the tires over the highway peaceful, and driving gave him the time and space to think.“Yeah, yeah,” Meredith conceded. “Well, I’m closing the shop for the weekend, and Lucas will be at his dad’s house in Fort Wayne until next Thursday because of fall break. Starting Friday afternoon, I’m all yours.”“Sounds like a plan, but you really don’t have to entertain me.”“Oh, oh!” Meredith exclaimed, completely ignoring his subtle plea for a nice, quiet visit. Honestly, he should have been used to it by now. “You are never going to guess who’s back in town!” Wincing as he jerked the phone away from his head to avoid a ruptured eardrum, August scrolled through his mental Rolodex, trying to figure out who could make his friend squeal like that. “I don’t know, Mer. Peyton Manning?” A lame guess, perhaps, but he had nothing.“Funny,” Meredith answered, her tone dripping with sarcasm, “but no.” She paused for a long time, likely for dramatic effect, then squealed again. “Micah!”She said it as though it should mean something to him, but he only knew of one Micah. Surely, she didn’t mean…“Micah Hayden?” Barely able to speak through his trembling lips, August winced when his voice broke and prayed his friend hadn’t noticed.“Yes! I saw him in the pharmacy last weekend when I was visiting Mom. I guess he’s in town for the closing on his parents’ farm out by Booker’s Pond. Remember it?” She didn’t give him a chance to respond before continuing. Hell, she didn’t even take time to breathe. “Now that they’re getting older—his parents, not Micah—they’ve decided to move to Florida. It’s cliché, I know, but there you have it.”August blinked twice, replaying the monologue in his head, because he’d definitely missed something. “His parents are moving to Florida? What does that have to do with Micah?”“Oh, well, they signed over the farm to him, didn’t they? He finally found a buyer over in Greenfield.”“Ah, I see.” August drummed his fingers against the gleaming oak of his desktop and swallowed hard, trying to force his heart out of his throat and back into his chest where it belonged. “So,” he began, hoping he sounded casual, “how is he?”“Good, from what I could tell.” If Meredith sensed his growing anxiety, she didn’t say anything. “He’s been back in Indianapolis for a few months now, and he said he just signed a lease with…”“Yes?” August dropped his feet to the floor and sat up straighter in his chair. “With what?”“His partner,” Meredith answered. The glee had disappeared, replaced by a more somber tone, and perhaps even a hint of pity. “He moved into an apartment with his partner.”If his life was a movie, August might naively think Micah’s return meant a second chance for them. They’d meet somewhere for coffee, just for old time’s sake, one thing would lead to another, and they’d stroll off into the sunset together. Roll end credits. August lived in the real world, though, with real-life disappointments, and Micah Hayden had turned out to be one of the biggest.“I have his number.” Meredith’s voice pulled him back to the conversation. “He asked about you. Actually, he had a lot of questions about you.” Smugness saturated her voice, and August could just picture his friend’s bow shaped lips curling into a smirk. “He asked me to pass on his number. Want it?”“Uh, Mer, I don’t know. Maybe it’s not such a good idea.” Part of him, the part that had been desperately in love with Micah wanted to say yes. A louder, more logical voice chastised him for even considering it.“Auggie, c’mon. I know things ended badly between you, but he’s your alma.”Fate. Soul. Heart. Intended. Mate. A sacred and cherished bond within the paranormal world, especially amongst his particular breed of werewolves. No one came between a Lobos and their mate, not without violent consequences. Apparently, that only applied to lesser beings, not to someone as self-important as Micah Hayden.Yeah, I’m not bitter at all.“You just said he was seeing someone else.”“But he’s your mate!” Meredith repeated, as though that would suddenly make everything okay.Knowing she wouldn’t let it go, August sighed as he shifted through the clutter on his desk for a pen and scrap of paper. Nothing said “I’m available and desperate” like getting wound up over the guy who’d dumped him. “Fine, let’s have it.”Meredith rattled off the number twice, and then made August recite it back to her. After being repeatedly forced to promise he’d call the minute he left for Indiana, he said his goodbyes and disconnected. Picking up the slip of paper with Micah’s number on it, August leaned back in his desk chair and stared at the digits.After all this time, he couldn’t imagine why Micah wanted to talk to him. They’d had little in common when they’d been together, and he guessed they had even less in common now. It would definitely be awkward.“For crying out loud, August,” he berated himself, “you’re a grown man, not a heartsick kid.” Without a good reason not to call, he just looked like the jaded lover he was.Sucking in a deep breath and praying for courage, August snatch his cell phone off the desk and dialed before he could change his mind. Then he sat on the edge of his chair, his shoulders back and his spine rigid, gnawing on his bottom lip while he waited for an answer.“Hello?” a voice answered on the fourth ring in a deep, resonating bass.Whoa. Shivering at the current that rippled along his spine, August tugged at his slacks and shifted in his seat when the tingles traveled to places they had no business occupying. “Umm…I’m looking for Micah Hayden,” he stammered.“This is Micah Hayden. Who’s calling?”“You probably don’t remember me,” August began but stopped when he realized how stupid that sounded. The guy had crushed his heart into a million pieces. Oh, and he’d asked about him. Either way, of course Micah remembered him. “It’s August. August Tucker. Meredith gave me your number.”Silence.Okay, great. This is going well.“Ant?”Even after all these years, the silly nickname had the ability to stretch his lips into a warm, indulgent smile. “Yeah, it’s me.” Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as he’d dreaded. “How are you, Micah?”“Wow. It is you. I wasn’t sure you’d call, but I’m glad you did.” An echoing smile tinted Micah’s voice, and he sounded genuinely happy. “How long has it been? Twelve, thirteen years?”“Something like that.” Some days, it felt longer. Other days, it felt like no time had passed and the pain nearly suffocated him. “So, you’re back in Indy now?”“Yes, sir. I bought The Garage, so that’s where I’ve been spending most of my time.”Micah had started working for old man Aikens in junior high, cleaning up around the shop and fetching parts for the mechanics. Gods, he’d loved that place, and he’d talked nonstop about owning his own garage one day. August was truly happy his old love had fulfilled his dream.“That’s great, Micah, really. Congratulations.” “Thank you.” A measure of uncertainty floated over the line. “What else did Meredith tell you?”“Just that you found a buyer for your parents’ farm. Are they really moving to Florida?”“Well, Mom is moving down there to be closer to her sister. Dad passed a couple of months ago. I’m not selling the old place, either.”“Oh, I’m so sorry. I know you two were close.” It seemed callous to ask, but August did question what that meant for the pack. He also wondered how Meredith could get her facts so horribly wrong. “Are you living at the farm, then? I thought you’d just signed a lease on an apartment?”Silence hung over the line before Micah groaned under his breath. “Some things never change, huh?”“If you’re referring to the fact that Meredith hears a quarter of the conversation and makes up the rest, you wouldn’t be wrong.” Gods, Micah had a great laugh, and even through the phone line, his voice washed over August in all the right—er, wrong?—places.  “Okay, so what am I missing?”“Well, I just terminated the lease on my old apartment. Mom did sign the farm over to me, but I’m not selling the house or any of the land. Seems like it would be a waste of resources to turn over seventy acres of pack lands.”“You’re converting the farm to pack lands?” August sat up a little straighter and cocked his head to the side. The pack had never had a place of their own to run, not that August could remember, anyway. “Why now? Why the sudden change?”Micah cleared his throat, and when he spoke, he sounded a little too casual for it to be authentic. “It’s just time for some changes.” He paused, a little hesitation that anyone else probably wouldn’t have noticed. “You’re living in Oklahoma now, right?” He was definitely hiding something, but after so long apart, it wasn’t really August’s place to ask. So he ignored the tightening in his gut and pasted a smile on his lips when he answered. “Yes, sir, I have my own office here in Tulsa.”To date, it was his biggest accomplishment, and he’d worked his ass off, scrimping, saving, and sacrificing to be able to open his own practice. It hadn’t been easy in the beginning, but he’d seen steady progress, especially in the past couple of years. His exclusive clientele required a certain level of…discretion, and they were willing to pay top dollar to protect their privacy.“Wow, I’m impressed.” Micah’s tone held just the right amount of sincerity without being over the top. He didn’t quite pull off the same subtlety with his next question, though. “I guess that doesn’t leave a lot of time to make it back home, huh?”“It’s not my home, Micah. It hasn’t been for a long time.” It had been fourteen years since his parents had passed, and with no other family, August had no reason to return to Indianapolis permanently. “However, I’ll be in town this coming weekend to visit Meredith.”“You’ll be in town for your birthday? We should celebrate.” Micah stopped and swallowed audibly. When he continued, some of the enthusiasm had vanished. “I mean, if you’re not busy, of course. If you’d rather not, I’ll understand.”August didn’t know how he felt. The part of him still hopelessly in love with the guy wanted to move back to Indianapolis, buy a house, build a picket fence, and live happily ever after. The rational part of him, however, knew that would never happen, and being near Micah without actually being with him sounded plain miserable.“I’d love to see you.”What? Wait. I would?“I look forward to it.” Micah’s reply felt more intimate than his previous excitement, and August clenched his fist on his thigh as his breath quickened. “I should get back to work.”August glanced at the clock on his computer and opened his schedule of appointments for the day. “Yeah, same here. My four o’clock will be here any minute.”“What is it you do, Ant?”“I’m a therapist,” August answered distractedly as he pulled his patient’s file from the bottom drawer and placed it on top of the desk. “Sex therapy to be more specific.”“Right then.” Laughter colored Micah’s voice, and he paused for a heartbeat before composing himself. “Well, you have my number now. Be sure to use it.”“I’ll call when I get into Indy.” Gods, he didn’t know how he’d convinced himself it would be a good idea to see Micah again, but he blamed Meredith. If she hadn’t been so quick to gossip, none of this would have happened. “Take care of you.”Their old goodbye came without thought, rolling smoothly off his tongue as though he’d uttered it a thousand times in the last twelve years. In truth, it was special, and he never used that parting line with anyone except Micah.Thankfully, Micah didn’t comment on his Freudian slip. “Goodbye, August.”

Welcome Vicktor Alexander!

Blurb:
In an alternate universe, in the country of Angland, 1814, the gentry live lives of culture and class. It is a time of courtships, marriages of convenience, and titles, where scandal can ruin an entire family. Gender lines are blurred, and making a good match is of utmost importance. Children are born to men and women, which has led to the acceptance of same-sex marriages.
Lady Lucien Timothy Hawthorne is shocked and angry when he is betrothed against his will to Lord Heathcliff Eddington, III, the Duke of Pompinshire. While drowning his frustration at a popular gentleman's club, he meets "Robert," a gorgeous older man whom he sleeps with as "Timmy" regardless of the potential damage to his reputation.
After their liaison, Lucien corresponds with Robert via letters left at Remmington, and they decide to elope. Before they can get away, Lucien meets his betrothed, Heathcliff, who he is surprised to discover is also his beloved, Robert. Both men desire a marriage of the heart, but they find out that sometimes a marriage of convenience can turn into love under the right circumstances. But Lucien has a secret, and Tlondon isn't as safe as they once thought. 

Excerpt:
“Here we are,” Rosemary announced, her voice louder than normal, with a false cheeriness to it. Lucien’s eyebrows rose at his mother’s behavior, and he stopped her in front of the closed doors, which once again let Lucien know something or someone was behind those doors that his parents didn’t want him to know about until they’d had a chance to explain it to him.

“Mother, what is going on?” Lucien asked her.

Rosemary looked at Lucien and shook her head. “Why, Luce, absolutely nothing. Why would you ask me something like that?”

Lucien was really concerned, as neither of his parents used his nickname. Ever. He said nothing to her, just staring, unmoving.

Rosemary removed her hand from Lucien’s elbow and raised it to the pearls hanging at her neck to play with them a moment. Lucien was very aware of that gesture; it meant Rosemary was nervous and trying to figure out just what to reveal. He waited expectantly, confident she would let him know what was going on before he had to face his maldy, but when Rosemary shook her head and squared her shoulders, Lucien knew his ploy of silence wouldn’t work this time.

“All you need to know, Lucien, is that everything we do, we do as your parents and because we love you,” Rosemary told him. She raised a hand to his cheek and stroked the skin gently, lovingly. “We were so happy when I gave birth to you and discovered you were a girl. We had been surprised by the pregnancy, as the doctors told me I was past my conceiving years, but you were a delightful surprise. We always wanted a son, and we were finally given one.” She dropped her hand from Lucien’s cheek and lifted it to her face to wipe away the tears that had gathered in her eyes. “We do this because we care about you and only want the best for you.”

Rosemary turned back to the double doors of the red rose room and pushed on the handles to open them. She grabbed the skirt of her morning gown in one hand and glided into the room. Lucien stood in shock for only a moment before he followed her.

“Close the doors, Son.” His maldy’s husky voice came from the direction of one of the chairs next to the fireplace. Lucien nodded and, as he turned to close the doors, saw the Duke and Duchess of Cumbria sitting on the loveseat across from his maldy. He froze in shock for but a moment. Years of etiquette training wouldn’t allow him to just stand in front of the door, but he had never seen anyone in the red rose room who wasn’t family, and now here were two of the most prestigious peers of the realm, not only in their home but in their private family room. Lucien took a moment to compose himself. He smiled at both of them and bowed slightly before turning back to close the doors. After he released the handle, Lucien took a steadying breath and moved to face his parents.

“Well, have a seat, Lucien,” Annabelle directed him.

“Yes, Maldy,” Lucien answered automatically. His maldy was a stern woman. Lucien could only remember one instance where he had ever seen her be soft and loving, though he wasn’t supposed to have. He had woken up in the middle of the night when he was seven years old and had walked out of his room and down the family wing toward his parents’ room. He knew he was too old to actually sleep in the bed with them, but he had wanted comfort from a dreadful nightmare. Halfway down the hall, he’d stopped, frozen in place as he saw his mothers pressed together against the wall next to the bedchamber. They were dressed in evening attire, Rosemary in a gorgeous dress of blue velvet, one hand holding a white shawl, her black hair spilling down her back in a mass of curls. Annabelle was pressed close to Rosemary’s body, her thick blond hair pulled back into a harsh, unforgiving bun, her face pressed into the crook of Rosemary’s neck. Annabelle wore a slim dark green evening gown, embroidered in onyx gems under her small bust and around the hem. As Lucien continued to watch them, he saw Rosemary lift her leg and circle it around Annabelle’s waist, while Annabelle dropped a hand beneath Rosemary’s skirts. Lucien’s eyes had widened, and he’d turned to leave, not in the least bit interested in watching his parents copulate in the middle of the corridor. It was something he only knew about because he’d overheard his sisters speak of it and because he’d sneaked into the servants’ quarters many times and seen the same thing occurring among the servants. Just as he started to turn away, he saw Annabelle lift the hand that had been pressed against the wall on the side of Rosemary’s head and tenderly stroke Rosemary’s cheek. She had leaned close and kissed Rosemary’s lips gently before lifting Rosemary’s leg higher. It was Rosemary’s gasp and harsh groan of Annabelle’s name that had spurred Lucien to turn and race down the hallway to his room.

So while one part of him was happy to know his maldy had a gentle side, the self-preservation side of him tried not to remember how he knew that.Lucien settled himself on the edge of the chaise next to the loveseat where the duke and duchess sat.

“I believe you know the duke and duchess?” Annabelle said, smiling thinly up at Rosemary, who stood and began pouring tea for all of them. Lucien crossed one leg over the other, balanced his teacup and saucer on his knee, and sat straight up—something else he’d learned how to do in his etiquette class—and nodded.

“Yes, Maldy. So nice to see you again, Your Graces,” Lucien said with a smile at two of the highest-ranking members of society. The Duke of Cumbria was a harsh-looking man. His skin had a healthy tan from spending a great deal of time outside, no doubt riding his horse or hunting, like most titled members of the gentry. It was a luxury Lucien wished he would have once he married, but one he believed he would have to go without once that occasion happened upon him.

The duke’s black hair was brushed back from his face and pulled into a queue at the back of his neck; gray had seeped into the dark strands and colored his temples. His eyes were a mesmerizing shade of light gray, almost silver, his chin pointed, a dimple resting in the middle of it.

He had broad shoulders shrouded in a brown morning coat over a startling white dress shirt with a white cravat and a black vest. He wore black breeches, which could barely contain his large thighs, and black boots on his feet.

Next to him, the Duchess of Cumbria wore a morning gown of yellow that caused her pale skin to look sallow. Her red hair, cluttered with gray strands, was pulled back in a bun, tendrils escaping to curl around her rounded face.

Lucien admired the fact that the Duchess had not felt the need to buy a wig of blonde or black hair that would make her much more fashionable. She no doubt felt she didn’t have to, being a superior member of the gentry. Her bonnet rested on her lap, and Lucien wondered if perhaps she had just removed it moments before he’d entered. Where his mother Rosemary had foregone heels for slippers, the Duchess wore a beautiful pair of white heeled shoes with lace and embroidery over the front of them. Her eyes were a deep jade color, and she smiled brilliantly at Lucien when his eyes fell on her.

“And it is indeed a pleasure to see you again, young Lucien,” the Duchess, Jane, if Lucien remembered her Christian name correctly, said, her voice light and melodious.“I am sure you are wondering why you were summoned to the family home when we did not have a scheduled meal,” Annabelle stated, and Lucien gave the Duchess a final smile before turning his attention to his maldy.

“The thought had crossed my mind, yes, Maldy,” Lucien admitted.

“Well, my dear, we have taken it upon ourselves to make a decision about your life that I am sure you will find not only agreeable but practically miraculous and fortuitous,” Annabelle stated with a pointed look.

That look Lucien knew quite well. Even if he didn’t find the decision “miraculous” or “fortuitous,” he was being ordered to pretend he did in front of the duke and duchess.“Thank you, Maldy. I am sure that I will,” Lucien agreed. He wondered if he had been offered to be a companion to the Duchess. While it wasn’t at all a notion he would have chosen for himself, it was inherently better than what he thought he’d been summoned to the estate for.

“Your mother and I have decided to accept the suit offered by the Duke and Duchess of Cumbria,” Annabelle told him before calmly lifting her teacup to her lips and taking a sip.“Suit?” Lucien questioned, looking back and forth between the two couples.

“Yes. You are to wed Heathcliff Eddington III, His Grace, the Duke of Pompinshire, Marquess of Manchester, Earl of Southerby, Viscount of Berkinstock, Baron of Hempstead, heir to the Dukedom of Cumbria, in six months’ time.”

Buy Link:http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/upcoming_products.phphttp://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=5542

Author Bio:
Vicktor “Vic” Alexander wrote his first story at the age of ten and hasn’t stopped writing since. He loves reading about anything and everything and is a proud member of the little known U.N. group (Undercover Nerds) because while he lives, eats, breathes and sleeps sports, he also breathes history and science fiction and grew up a Trekkie. But don’t ask him about Dungeons & Dragons, because he has no idea how to play that game. When it comes to writing he loves everything from paranormal to contemporary to fantasy to historical and is known for being not only the Epilogue King but also for writing stories that cross lines and boundaries that he doesn’t know are there. Vic a proud father of two daughters one of whom watches over him from Heaven with his deceased partner Christopher, a proud trans* and gay man, and when he is not writing, he is hanging out with his friends, or being distracted by videos of John Barrowman, Scott Hoying, and Shemar Moore. Vicktor has published numerous bestselling novels and has a WIP list that makes him exhausted just thinking about. He knows that he will be still be writing about hot men falling in love with each other, long after he is living in an assisted living facility, flirting with the hot, male nurses.
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Haunted Heart Sneak Peek from Zayne Michaels!

HAUNTED HEARTONCE UPON A MIDNIGHT MOON
(These books are stand-alones and can be read in any order.)
M/M Paranormal, werewolves27,700 words
Coming September 26thPre-order now from AMAZON and ARe

CHAPTER ONE Reclining in his office chair, August Tucker kicked his shoes off and propped his feet up on the desk with a silent groan. “Ok, you’re definitely going to be here Thursday, right?”It felt like the hundredth time the question had been posed in the last twenty-four hours, and August barely bit back his sigh. “Yes, Meredith,” he answered into the phone. “My last appointment is at noon Thursday. I’ll be on the highway before rush hour.”“I still don’t get why you’re driving all the way from Tulsa.”Considering how little they had in common, it still amazed him that they’d ever become friends. Maybe it had something to do with the fact they were both too stubborn to let those little differences stand in their way. Whatever the reason, they’d made it work and had been inseparable since junior high, even after August had packed up his things and moved halfway across the country to nurse his broken heart.“It’s not that far to Indianapolis.”Most people probably wouldn’t agree, but nine hours didn’t feel like a chore. If nothing drastic happened, he could probably make it in eight.“Besides, I like to drive,” he reminded her. August found the hum of the tires over the highway peaceful, and driving gave him the time and space to think.“Yeah, yeah,” Meredith conceded. “Well, I’m closing the shop for the weekend, and Lucas will be at his dad’s house in Fort Wayne until next Thursday because of fall break. Starting Friday afternoon, I’m all yours.”“Sounds like a plan, but you really don’t have to entertain me.”“Oh, oh!” Meredith exclaimed, completely ignoring his subtle plea for a nice, quiet visit. Honestly, he should have been used to it by now. “You are never going to guess who’s back in town!”Wincing as he jerked the phone away from his head to avoid a ruptured eardrum, August scrolled through his mental Rolodex, trying to figure out who could make his friend squeal like that. “I don’t know, Mer. Peyton Manning?” A lame guess, perhaps, but he had nothing.“Funny,” Meredith answered, her tone dripping with sarcasm, “but no.” She paused for a long time, likely for dramatic effect, then squealed again. “Micah!”She said it as though it should mean something to him, but he only knew of one Micah. Surely, she didn’t mean…“Micah Hayden?” Barely able to speak through his trembling lips, August winced when his voice broke and prayed his friend hadn’t noticed.“Yes! I saw him in the pharmacy last weekend when I was visiting Mom. I guess he’s in town for the closing on his parents’ farm out by Booker’s Pond. Remember it?” She didn’t give him a chance to respond before continuing. Hell, she didn’t even take time to breathe. “Now that they’re getting older—his parents, not Micah—they’ve decided to move to Florida. It’s cliché, I know, but there you have it.”August blinked twice, replaying the monologue in his head, because he’d definitely missed something. “His parents are moving to Florida? What does that have to do with Micah?”“Oh, well, they signed over the farm to him, didn’t they? He finally found a buyer over in Greenfield.”“Ah, I see.” August drummed his fingers against the gleaming oak of his desktop and swallowed hard, trying to force his heart out of his throat and back into his chest where it belonged. “So,” he began, hoping he sounded casual, “how is he?”“Good, from what I could tell.” If Meredith sensed his growing anxiety, she didn’t say anything. “He’s been back in Indianapolis for a few months now, and he said he just signed a lease with…”“Yes?” August dropped his feet to the floor and sat up straighter in his chair. “With what?”“His partner,” Meredith answered. The glee had disappeared, replaced by a more somber tone, and perhaps even a hint of pity. “He moved into an apartment with his partner.”If his life was a movie, August might naively think Micah’s return meant a second chance for them. They’d meet somewhere for coffee, just for old time’s sake, one thing would lead to another, and they’d stroll off into the sunset together. Roll end credits. August lived in the real world, though, with real-life disappointments, and Micah Hayden had turned out to be one of the biggest.“I have his number.” Meredith’s voice pulled him back to the conversation. “He asked about you. Actually, he had a lot of questions about you.” Smugness saturated her voice, and August could just picture his friend’s bow shaped lips curling into a smirk. “He asked me to pass on his number. Want it?”“Uh, Mer, I don’t know. Maybe it’s not such a good idea.” Part of him, the part that had been desperately in love with Micah wanted to say yes. A louder, more logical voice chastised him for even considering it.“Auggie, c’mon. I know things ended badly between you, but he’s your alma.”Fate. Soul. Heart. Intended. Mate. A sacred and cherished bond within the paranormal world, especially amongst his particular breed of werewolves. No one came between a Lobos and their mate, not without violent consequences. Apparently, that only applied to lesser beings, not to someone as self-important as Micah Hayden.Yeah, I’m not bitter at all.“You just said he was seeing someone else.”“But he’s your mate!” Meredith repeated, as though that would suddenly make everything okay.Knowing she wouldn’t let it go, August sighed as he shifted through the clutter on his desk for a pen and scrap of paper. Nothing said “I’m available and desperate” like getting wound up over the guy who’d dumped him. “Fine, let’s have it.”Meredith rattled off the number twice, and then made August recite it back to her. After being repeatedly forced to promise he’d call the minute he left for Indiana, he said his goodbyes and disconnected. Picking up the slip of paper with Micah’s number on it, August leaned back in his desk chair and stared at the digits.After all this time, he couldn’t imagine why Micah wanted to talk to him. They’d had little in common when they’d been together, and he guessed they had even less in common now. It would definitely be awkward.“For crying out loud, August,” he berated himself, “you’re a grown man, not a heartsick kid.” Without a good reason not to call, he just looked like the jaded lover he was.Sucking in a deep breath and praying for courage, August snatch his cell phone off the desk and dialed before he could change his mind. Then he sat on the edge of his chair, his shoulders back and his spine rigid, gnawing on his bottom lip while he waited for an answer.“Hello?” a voice answered on the fourth ring in a deep, resonating bass.Whoa. Shivering at the current that rippled along his spine, August tugged at his slacks and shifted in his seat when the tingles traveled to places they had no business occupying. “Umm…I’m looking for Micah Hayden,” he stammered.“This is Micah Hayden. Who’s calling?”“You probably don’t remember me,” August began but stopped when he realized how stupid that sounded. The guy had crushed his heart into a million pieces. Oh, and he’d asked about him. Either way, of course Micah remembered him. “It’s August. August Tucker. Meredith gave me your number.”Silence.Okay, great. This is going well.“Ant?”Even after all these years, the silly nickname had the ability to stretch his lips into a warm, indulgent smile. “Yeah, it’s me.” Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as he’d dreaded. “How are you, Micah?”“Wow. It is you. I wasn’t sure you’d call, but I’m glad you did.” An echoing smile tinted Micah’s voice, and he sounded genuinely happy. “How long has it been? Twelve, thirteen years?”“Something like that.” Some days, it felt longer. Other days, it felt like no time had passed and the pain nearly suffocated him. “So, you’re back in Indy now?”“Yes, sir. I bought The Garage, so that’s where I’ve been spending most of my time.”Micah had started working for old man Aikens in junior high, cleaning up around the shop and fetching parts for the mechanics. Gods, he’d loved that place, and he’d talked nonstop about owning his own garage one day. August was truly happy his old love had fulfilled his dream.“That’s great, Micah, really. Congratulations.”“Thank you.” A measure of uncertainty floated over the line. “What else did Meredith tell you?”“Just that you found a buyer for your parents’ farm. Are they really moving to Florida?”“Well, Mom is moving down there to be closer to her sister. Dad passed a couple of months ago. I’m not selling the old place, either.”“Oh, I’m so sorry. I know you two were close.” It seemed callous to ask, but August did question what that meant for the pack. He also wondered how Meredith could get her facts so horribly wrong. “Are you living at the farm, then? I thought you’d just signed a lease on an apartment?”Silence hung over the line before Micah groaned under his breath. “Some things never change, huh?”“If you’re referring to the fact that Meredith hears a quarter of the conversation and makes up the rest, you wouldn’t be wrong.” Gods, Micah had a great laugh, and even through the phone line, his voice washed over August in all the right—er, wrong?—places.  “Okay, so what am I missing?”“Well, I just terminated the lease on my old apartment. Mom did sign the farm over to me, but I’m not selling the house or any of the land. Seems like it would be a waste of resources to turn over seventy acres of pack lands.”“You’re converting the farm to pack lands?” August sat up a little straighter and cocked his head to the side. The pack had never had a place of their own to run, not that August could remember, anyway. “Why now? Why the sudden change?”Micah cleared his throat, and when he spoke, he sounded a little too casual for it to be authentic. “It’s just time for some changes.” He paused, a little hesitation that anyone else probably wouldn’t have noticed. “You’re living in Oklahoma now, right?” He was definitely hiding something, but after so long apart, it wasn’t really August’s place to ask. So he ignored the tightening in his gut and pasted a smile on his lips when he answered. “Yes, sir, I have my own office here in Tulsa.”To date, it was his biggest accomplishment, and he’d worked his ass off, scrimping, saving, and sacrificing to be able to open his own practice. It hadn’t been easy in the beginning, but he’d seen steady progress, especially in the past couple of years. His exclusive clientele required a certain level of…discretion, and they were willing to pay top dollar to protect their privacy.“Wow, I’m impressed.” Micah’s tone held just the right amount of sincerity without being over the top. He didn’t quite pull off the same subtlety with his next question, though. “I guess that doesn’t leave a lot of time to make it back home, huh?”“It’s not my home, Micah. It hasn’t been for a long time.” It had been fourteen years since his parents had passed, and with no other family, August had no reason to return to Indianapolis permanently. “However, I’ll be in town this coming weekend to visit Meredith.”“You’ll be in town for your birthday? We should celebrate.” Micah stopped and swallowed audibly. When he continued, some of the enthusiasm had vanished. “I mean, if you’re not busy, of course. If you’d rather not, I’ll understand.”August didn’t know how he felt. The part of him still hopelessly in love with the guy wanted to move back to Indianapolis, buy a house, build a picket fence, and live happily ever after. The rational part of him, however, knew that would never happen, and being near Micah without actually being with him sounded plain miserable.“I’d love to see you.”What? Wait. I would?“I look forward to it.” Micah’s reply felt more intimate than his previous excitement, and August clenched his fist on his thigh as his breath quickened. “I should get back to work.”August glanced at the clock on his computer and opened his schedule of appointments for the day. “Yeah, same here. My four o’clock will be here any minute.”“What is it you do, Ant?”“I’m a therapist,” August answered distractedly as he pulled his patient’s file from the bottom drawer and placed it on top of the desk. “Sex therapy to be more specific.”“Right then.” Laughter colored Micah’s voice, and he paused for a heartbeat before composing himself. “Well, you have my number now. Be sure to use it.”“I’ll call when I get into Indy.” Gods, he didn’t know how he’d convinced himself it would be a good idea to see Micah again, but he blamed Meredith. If she hadn’t been so quick to gossip, none of this would have happened. “Take care of you.”Their old goodbye came without thought, rolling smoothly off his tongue as though he’d uttered it a thousand times in the last twelve years. In truth, it was special, and he never used that parting line with anyone except Micah.Thankfully, Micah didn’t comment on his Freudian slip. “Goodbye, August.”
Coming September 26thPre-order now from AMAZON and ARe

Welcome Laurie Roma!

Daryk “Dare” Nyght is a man on the edge. As a trauma surgeon in the Army, he has seen his share of combat, but his high-risk lifestyle has left him burnt out and in desperate need of some peace. A man without a home, he heads to the small town of Breakers to get some rest and spend some time with a few friends, but what he finds there is more than he ever expected...Evie Beaumont is a woman who seems to have it all. She has grace, beauty and wealth, but she hides from painful memories by burying herself in her work at the rescue center she runs. When these two lost souls come together in a clash of wills, the sparks between them are undeniable. Will passion be enough or can they find a way to open their hearts for a chance at true love?

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EXCERPT
Stalling, Dare bent down and picked up a stick. Pulling back his arm, he let it fly and watched as all four dogs gave chase. “First, I want to say I’m usually not such an idiot around women. I think it’s just you.”“Lucky me.”He shot a look at her. “Why don’t we write it off as my stupid moment of the day and forget about it?”Evie paused, considering. “Do you have many of those?”“What, stupid moments? I’m male, so that would be yes. I think we have a quota each day or we just don’t feel right.”“Hmm.”He heaved out a sigh. “You...disturb me.”That had her stopping in her tracks. Offended to her core, she glared at him with her hands on her hips. “Excuse me?”“See, even the way you glare at me. That shouldn’t turn me on.”“It...I...” She lost her ability to speak. Did he really just—“Damn it, Evie,” he said as he took a step closer. “I shouldn’t have missed seeing your face today.”Her mouth opened, then closed as she struggled to form a response. She took a step back, then another. “No. You said—”“I know what I said.”“Then we should probably just avoid each other from now on while you’re here.”Dare took another step forward, closing the distance between them again as he slowly shook his head. “I’ve tried that. It doesn’t seem to be working.”“Well, try harder,” she snapped. She started to take another step back, but stopped when she realized he had her retreating. He burst out laughing. “Damn, woman. You sure do know how to stomp on a man’s ego.”“That’s not all I’m gonna stomp on.” Still chuckling, he wrapped an arm around her waist and jerked her to him, making her gasp. “Why don’t we try this instead?”Dare’s mouth came down on hers, hot and hard. A low moan tore from Evie’s throat at the pleasure of feeling him against her. She knew she should protest, push him away or something, but her hands simply grabbed onto his shirt, needing something to anchor her as he took her under, into a sea of sensation. Evie gasped again when he pulled her closer so she felt the steel hard spike of his erection again her stomach. It seemed to burn her through their clothes, and made her ache for more. He took advantage when her lips parted and pushed his tongue deep, stroking and tasting. Not to be outdone, she gave up fighting and met his desire with her own. She took the kiss deeper, tilting her head to the side, fitting them together like two pieces of a puzzle.She lost herself in the kiss, taking and giving in equal measure. His other hand delved into her hair, tugging her head back and the small sting made her shiver. Time seemed to stop while they were locked together. Her hands slid under his shirt of their own volition. Feeling the hard contours of the muscles on his back made her knees go weak and another moan of pleasure broke free. She wanted to touch all of him, to stroke her hands over his hard body until he was as mad for her as she was for him.This was passion.This was wild, lust-driven need.This was...insane.Gasping, she pulled back. Sweet Jesus, what was she doing? Here she was, making out with Dare out in the open where anyone could see, and she didn’t even like the man...did she?Dare’s grip on her tightened, holding her firmly in place when she tried to move away from him. “Hey, princess? You think you can tell your boys to stand down?”“W-what?”Evie blinked in confusion. God, his kiss had practically fried her brain. Shaking herself to focus, she quickly realized that all four of her dogs were issuing low, menacing growls. Looking down she saw they were all fixated on Dare, waiting for her command to attack.“No, babies. It’s okay. Dare is a...friend.”“You wanna try to say that a little more convincing? I’d like to keep all my body parts where they are,” he said wryly.She repeated her words, resting her head on his shoulder and smiled at the dogs so they would understand she wasn’t being hurt. Three of the dogs relaxed, their tails wagging as they sniffed at Dare’s shoes, but Gawain still seemed to eye him suspiciously. “Smile,” she ordered, keeping her voice soft and calm.Dare glanced down and tried to smile, although he was pretty sure it came out more like a grimace. A few seconds ago, he’d been damn close to dragging Evie down onto the grass with him. From the moment he’d touched her everything else had simply disappeared. She’s felt so right in his arms, and the taste of her was even better than he had imagined. Then he’d felt that itch on the back of his neck right before he’d heard the growls. It had been a mistake to kiss her like this, without planning or preparation, but he just couldn’t help himself. And now he’d had a taste of her he wanted more. So much more. It would have been better if he’d walked away before he’d touched her, because now he wasn’t going to be able to.He was a damned man now. Fate sealed.


Laurie Roma lives in Chicago and mainly writes contemporary, romantic suspense, and sci-fi romance. She has always loved immersing herself in a good book and now enjoys the pleasure of creating her own. She can usually be found tapping away on her keyboard, creating worlds for her characters while she listens to music. Of course her playlist depends on her mood...but then again, so does her writing.An avid reader of the romance genre, nothing bothers her more than annoying characters. Seriously, who wants a happy ending for someone that pisses you off? She loves tough alpha-male heroes and strong heroines that have brains as well as beauty. Her novels are filled with both passionate romance and down and dirty lust-driven interludes, as she believes both are essential to a good love story. She loves to hear from her readers and can be reached at laurieromabooks@gmail.com.Stalk Laurie at:Website: http://www.laurieroma.comAmazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00APDXM98F... https://www.facebook.com/pages/Laurie... @laurieromabooks

Welcome Alexis Duran!

GETTING IN TOUCHI knew Touch of Salar was going to be special when I first started writing it.  I've never had a story come to me so easily or fully formed before.  I wrote like a woman possessed and finished the first draft in about two weeks.  The story excited me so much I stayed up way too late with my laptop propped on pillows as I huddled in bed. After I turned out the lights, I often had to turn them back on to make more notes.The secret behind all this joyful creativity is that Touch of Salar was the first full blown m/m erotic story that I allowed myself to write.  Yes, I'd dreamed up these stories for years, but I'd never put them on the page.  I believed I was part of a very small sub-group of women who maybe love men a little too much.  I had no clue there was a huge market for the stories I ached to write.  I owe it to my friend Draven St. James for showing me the light.After investigating Loose Id's submission policies I decided to take a risk and combine my man love obsession with my usual genre, fantasy.  Once I gave myself permission to follow my heart, the story poured out of me.  I had an amazingly fun time writing it and it was so, so thrilling to get that acceptance email from Loose Id.  You mean I can do what I love, have a great time, and get published? Wow.Part of the reason Touch of Salar was such a kick to write is because the character of M'lan existed before the novel came into being.  M'lan, the monk with the power to heal with his touch, gradually formed out of a fantasy I've entertained for a long time.  I have a small curve in my spine that's caused me a lot of pain since I was a teenager and I've come to view a massage as an essential, nearly sacred form of self-care.  As I recline on the table and the strong hands of the masseuse explore my body in highly intimate ways, I often indulge in a meditation that involves visualizing a magical healing energy extending out of their fingers into the deepest parts of my body, probing and releasing the pain locked inside.  Being a writer of fantasy, I began to build a character based on this experience.  Wouldn't it be beyond fabulous if the masseuse with the magic touch were also a gorgeous man?  A man who was so sensitive he knew exactly where our tensions lurk and how to unlock them?  And what else could he do with that power?  It's a good thing my masseuse (and chiropractor and physical therapist) never knew what was going on in my mind.Massage is so intimate, and I admire those who can remain entirely professional while rubbing their hands all over someone's body. But what if they can't? What if that certain someone comes to them, disrobes and stretches out in a completely vulnerable position?  I imagine it could be difficult.  A key ingredient in M'lan's story came to me one time when my masseuse was massaging my hand. For some reason that specific part of the body struck me as more intimate than any other. Holding hands is so basic, so sweet, and yet so powerful.  The experience brought to tears to my eyes, revealing to me a longing for human intimacy I'd been repressing.  I wondered about the power of simple touch to reach deep inside, beyond physical wounds, to emotional secrets and basic longings for touch that we all have buried deep within us.  And so M'lan's lover began to emerge, someone with deeply buried wounds that had never been exposed and that made him a very dangerous person indeed.I love to write romance mainly because I find it thrilling to take opposites, throw them together and see how they react, how they threaten, anger, dazzle and eventually complete each other.  M'lan stepped fully formed out of my head and into the healing temple of Salar.  Jamil the assassin wasn't far behind. The healer and the killer—the monk and the warrior.  Once I introduced them the story literally spilled out of me, because along with massage, writing and releasing these fantasies has become an essential form of self-care for me.  I hope that readers can take a deeper sort of enjoyment from the fantasy as well

In a world ruled by tyrannical kings and fickle gods, the young monk M'lan finds himself at the center of royal intrigue as his healing powers attract the attention of his superiors. When he learns the handsome warrior whose body he’s tending to is not only a noble, but a king's assassin, any attachment to him might prove fatal. Despite the danger, he can't stop himself from falling in love. Can he risk the abandon of passion when a slip of the tongue might force his lover to execute him?Major Jamil Jarka comes to the temple with one intention—heal his wounds so he can return to the fight against the rebellion. When the monk assigned to him turns out to be stunningly attractive, he sees this as a pleasant distraction, no more. But soon he finds himself becoming obsessed with M'lan and is torn between the fear of betrayal and the lure of love.
Sinister forces strive to turn the monk and the warrior against each other—a conflict neither will survive if they cannot trust their lives to love and the healing power of Salar.DON’T HAVE YOUR COPY? BUY IT NOW FROM LOOSE ID AND AMAZON
EXCERPTThe sun pierced a crevice in the mountains, and M’lan raised a hand to shield his eyes. He stood on a desert battlefield littered with the wounded, the dying, and the dead. He held a blood-smeared sword in his other hand. He let it drop.Dawn cut across the broken earth in a fiery lance, the anger of Salar, god of light, exposing man’s cruelty in shocking, vivid detail. Blood everywhere, limbs hacked, horses screaming. Hundreds of cold, sightless eyes, all turning toward him.M’lan stepped forward and tripped over a body at his feet. He fell, not onto a rock-strewn desert, but marble steps.As his palms hit a cool stone floor, he shook his head in confusion. His vision wavered between illusion and reality. On his hands and knees, he breathed deep and tried to remember who he was and where he was. He raised his head, and the tentacles of the night terrors recoiled into the shadowed corners of a temple, chased away by the sun that was indeed cresting the mountain. He was not a warrior but a monk, a healing monk, and he was in the temple of Ka’alar, not some hideous battlefield.He let out a shaky breath and climbed the last few steps on hands and knees. The nightmares were getting worse, and so powerful that they chased him all the way out of his cell into the blessed light of day. He thanked Salar for the dawn, then groggily staggered to his feet. He dimly recalled rising and dressing before dawn, but the dream had hunted him down and reclaimed him on his way to the temple.The fading aroma of night-blooming cacti still sweetened the air of the healing room. Clay ovens had been fired to heat it, but a chill remained in the open space. M’lan was grateful, because the nightmare had left him drenched with sweat. He leaned against a marble column and soaked in the rose-tinted glow of the sunrise. Morning was his favorite time of day, a fresh start, a new beginning. Every day, he channeled divine energy to mend fallen warriors. Every night, as if he became a warrior himself, he relived the horror his patients experienced in real life.His heartbeat slowed, and he took a moment to clear his mind and prepare for the first patient of the day. He’d trained for years to calm his mind and cool his passions. While he was busy treating his patients, passion was not a problem. Despite the array of beautiful bodies he worked on, he stayed as cool as a mountain lake, his mind still as he concentrated on sinews, muscles, tendons, and ligaments. At night, though, his passions erupted in those violent dreams of war, killing, and terror.The monks of Ka’alar Healing Temple exclusively served the noble classes of the kingdom of Rakkan. In recent years, most of their clients were soldiers, officers who’d been injured in the ongoing battle with Jirnan Province to the south. The monks also treated elite forces of no particular rank or designation—spies, assassins, sons and daughters of the nobility trained to serve the king in secret and deadly ways. The only reason M’lan knew this was because of the nightmares. He saw what his clients did, where they went, who they killed. If anyone ever found out, he’d be executed on the spot.Cobwebs clearing, he hurried to wipe down the soft-padded table in the middle of the room with essential oils and snapped out a fresh cloth to smooth on top of it. Today he was to begin the healing process on a new patient. For the sake of secrecy and discretion, patients were referred to by title. Today’s client, if spoken to, was to be addressed as Major. He was male, twenty-eight passages of age, and had been in the intensive-care ward of the temple for three weeks.M’lan’s role came into play after the most grievous injuries were patched, wounds closed, and vital functions stabilized. He put the final touches on a body to make it as fine and fit as before whatever trauma had broken it. He aligned the chi as well as the bones, muscles, and nerves. He released locked-in trauma, allowing the body to flow naturally again, maybe better than before, if the connection was right and the patient willing.Some warriors only wanted to be patched up so they could return to the fight. Others believed a complete healing cycle would make them better at what they did and less likely to fail again. They all took injury as a personal failure.The entry chimes sounded, and M’lan bowed his head, as was custom when nobility entered. The patient wore a black silk robe, head covered with a hood. He moved with grace and a lightness of foot, unlike most of the warriors M’lan worked on, who tended to be heavyset and muscle-bound. By the tang of sulfur salts, M’lan knew the man had already warmed up with exercise and soaked in the healing pools. Good. A committed patient was so much easier to work with.The man crossed the tiled floor without a sound and stepped up to the table. From behind him, M’lan watched the silk robe drop to the floor before he raised his eyes, ready to assess what he saw.His breath caught. Even though he was used to seeing well-sculpted, muscular bodies, this one was exceptional. Faint scars crisscrossed the truly beautiful almond skin but were obscured by the swirls and tangled vines of an elaborate tattoo that climbed from the crease beneath the man’s left buttock to the base of his neck. His torso tapered from the broad shoulders to a slim waist. The arms and legs were lean yet muscular, and the buttocks tight and hard. He had glossy black hair that flashed red in the sunlight. M’lan glimpsed a fine high cheekbone, sculpted jawline, and aquiline nose. A true son of Rakkan.
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BEHIND THE SCENES WITH ALEXIS DURAN
Has your perspective on the writing process changed since you became published? I'm much more aware of the presence of the reader.  I'm always asking myself how my readers will feel about where I'm taking the characters, especially with the series.  Before being published, I guess I'd say was more self-indulgent and if I wanted to change things or take them in a radical new direction, I would. Now I have to think about the expectations I've created and the story questions that need to be answered.
Do you work best on a deadline, or do you need freedom from time constraints?  Deadlines work well for me, as long as I don't set unreasonable ones.  I absolutely love NaNoWriMo and my best writing is fast and furious.  Deadlines stop me from lollygagging.Is there a word or phrase you catch yourself overusing?  I have a couple pages of notes just on that.  The list became much funnier after the first time I had a sex scene professionally edited.  Let's just say that there are a lot of synonyms for "hard" and I'm working on using all of them.How do you know you’ve written a good book?I re-read the entire manuscript before each rewrite.  If I still enjoy it after the fifth or sixth time through, I think it must be pretty good.Are you a Swooper (write first, edit later,) a Basher (edit each sentence as you go,) or both? I never heard those terms before.  I'm definitely a Swooper.  The most valuable advice I ever received as a budding novelist was "fix it in the rewrite".  If I tried to perfect every sentence or scene as I went, I'd still be working on the first novel.  During the first draft, it's all about the story trying to get out of my head and onto the page.  I know I'll be able to make it pretty later.  What are you currently working on? How is it different from other books you’ve written? I’m working on an erotic space opera. It's the first time I've really given my quirky sense of humor full reign in the erotica stories.  I love to play with how silly our culture is and in science fiction you can really do a lot of humorous social commentary.  It will also be my first erotic SF as well as my first full length novel in the m/m erotic genre.Is there anything you haven’t written that you would like to try some day? Why have you avoided it in the past?  I really want to write a write an erotic romance set in the Victorian Era. I've already plotted it out in my head and tried to start it once, but I stopped when I realized I didn't have a good handle on all the nitty gritty details, including everything from currency denominations to the evolution of undergarments.  It's funny, you grow up reading Sherlock Holmes and Charles Dickens and think you really know the time and culture, but when you try to write it, suddenly you find great gaping holes in your vocabulary.  I'm intimidated by all the research and the process of incorporating a zillion facts into my mind so that it will flow when I need it, but I really love that story so someday I'll knuckle down and do it.When and where can readers look forward to seeing you this year?  I'm attending the Gay Romance Northwest Meet-up in Seattle this September, as a participant, not a presenter, but I'll be there.  That's the only thing on the calendar so far.What do you feel are the most important aspects to a good romance?Strong, well-rounded characters.  Even if they're not physically or emotionally strong, they've got to have unbendable passions and desires.  A great romance character will fight to overcome his or her weaknesses in order to achieve their ultimate desire, which in romance is almost always an intimate relationship with that certain someone.  Once you have your interesting, amazing characters on the stage, then you need conflict, conflict, conflict.  That is where the tension, anticipation, frustration and release comes from that makes romance so sweet.What is your least favorite part of the writing process?  The first rewrite, when I have to make sense out of the crazy mess of the first draft.
LIGHTNING ROUNDHow do you feel about being the center of attention? I don't like it!  Makes me squirm (and not in a good way.)How do you feel, generally, about the opposite sex? I adore them. That's why I write gay romance!What is your worst habit? Descending into despair whenever things don't go my way, like if I get a so-so review or a story rejection, it's the end of my world for at least several hours.How deeply does your job / social role define you as a person?  Being a writer, a creative person, is extremely important to me. It's my raison d'être.  The day job, not so much.
FAVORITESBook:  Jitterbug Perfume by Tom RobbinsMovie: Blade RunnerBand: The ClashQuote:  "Whatever you can do, or think you can do, begin it. For boldness has Magic, Power, and Genius in it."  GoetheTV Show: Firefly, and more currently, Castle.Guilty Indulgence: The next story. I have a huge stack of first drafts and projects nearing completion, but I just can't say no when new characters come knocking.Dessert:  Caramel ice cream with the salty bits in it.Time of Day: Dawn. I don't see it that often, but when I do it's awesome.


Alexis Duran was born and raised in the Pacific Northwest. At the University of Oregon, her fascination with people and relationships led her to major in Sociology, but her main love has always been creative writing.  She has worked in museums, in fashion, in finance and film production. Her favorite job so far was Administrative Assistant in a haunted Victorian Mansion.  She's had several short stories published in the mystery, horror and literary genres, and one contemporary fantasy novel.  Her fiction has won several awards including the Rupert Hughes Award from the Maui Writers Conference.  She's thrilled to enter the realm of erotic romance with the publication of her novel Touch of Salar.  She lives with one dog and four and half cats.  She is currently working on the next Salar novel and several other erotic novellas.alexisduran1177@yahoo.comON THE WEBBLOG | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | GOODREADS

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Welcome Kalista Kyle!

Author Kalista Kyle has a new release out! Get it now at:AMAZON | ARe| B&N| GOOGLE PLAY



Jamie Everett goes to work every day and sees the man of his dreams, Alexander Rydon, president of Endotronics Inc, the one man he can’t stop thinking about. The more Jaimie is around him, the more he falls for the man, but Alexander doesn’t appear to see Jamie in the same light. That is, until his twin sets his sights on Jamie.

Will the thought he could lose Jamie to his brother bring Alexander to his senses before Jamie gives up and leaves the company for good?


ExcerptHe made his way over to Alexander’s closed office door and knocked briskly, hearing a muffled, “Come in.”

Opening the door, Jamie mentally prepared himself for the conversation he knew he’d need to have with his boss. The thought of facing the Alexander Rydon firing squad to give his notice and start over somewhere else, had his palms sweating. He had no choice. Bryce was constantly hot on his heels, and didn’t seem like he’d give up pursuing Jamie any time soon.

“Good morning, Mr. Rydon. I have your coffee, and wanted to let you know that the morning files were sent over already.” Jamie almost stuttered at the last part, he was so flustered. Why was it whenever they were in the room together, Jamie’s IQ dropped by several points?

“Jamie, I’ve told you repeatedly that it’s okay to call me Alexander. Mr. Rydon was my father.” He motioned impatiently, “Just put the coffee on the desk. Do you have the Bridgeport files ready?” Alexander looked up briefly from the computer, a faint smile curving his full, soft looking lips.

“Um…I…”Jamie cleared his throat in an attempt to gather his thoughts. “I’ve just gotten in to the office, so I haven’t had a chance to check for them yet. I’ll send them to you as soon as I’m back at my desk.” Jamie stuffed his hands into his pockets to hide their trembling from his boss.

“Good. I need them right away. Is there something on your mind? You look...fidgety.” Alexander’s dark eyes were typically sharp, but today they had a particularly hard edge to them, as if they were lasers burning a hole in Jamie’s forehead. Maybe this wasn’t the time to tell his boss he was quitting. Taking a deep breath, Jamie steeled himself, straightened his shoulders, and reached into the inside pocket of his suit, pulling out the resignation letter he’d meticulously typed the night before. Slowly walking up to the ornate oak desk, Jamie placed the letter carefully down on top of it, and quickly turned to leave. He needed some space, now that he’d irrevocably changed his life.

Welcome Kali Argent and a Giveaway!

Sometimes, new beginnings come from unexpected places.

To Cecily Baker,
being unattached means making her own decisions, living by her own rules, and
never answering to anyone. So when her sister drags her to a singles night at a
local club—and then ditches her—it only strengthens

Welcome Leila Lacey!

Leilalacey0914@outlook.comFacebook | Twitter| Goodreads
Leila Lacey is a romance author living in Michigan. Her unique, yet titillating, genre blurs the lines between romance, interracial love and erotica. Now in her late 30’s, Leila has been passionate about writing since age 10. She can often be found traveling the world, enjoying water sports, listening to jazz music or volunteering at Vista Maria, a local youth program for young women. Leila, above all else, loves her friends and family. It is with their support that she is able to create magical scenes of true human intimacy on every page. Follow Leila Lacey on her endeavor to be America’s next New York Time’s Bestselling Author!
Loving Logan
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Shelby Beasley and Logan Chandler have known each other for more than 20 years; after all Shelby’s best friend Lance is Logan’s twin brother. After years of misunderstandings Shelby and Logan have discovered that they have a hot, heavy and explosive, attraction to each other. The only problem, Shelby is the oldest daughter of one of the richest families in Georgia and Logan is a poor ex-con from the other side of the tracks that hates rich people. Shelby has never known a life of need but never really acclimated to being one of the “elite”. She is an educated woman that wants it all, what woman doesn’t, right? Logan and his family have suffered from being a part of the lower middle class. Looked down on by the wealthy people of Shelbyville, Georgia simply because of his so called social status. He has developed a disdain for the wealthy.  Can Logan and Shelby find lasting love together, or will Logan’s demons push Shelby away from him?





Excerpt
“Logan, this is Ivy Meade, Shelby’s biological mother,” Lance said. “Ms. Meade, this is my brother, Logan.” Logan was so worried about Shelby that it took him a minute to register what Lance had just said about this woman’s hand that he was shaking.
“Please to... Wait WHAT?” Logan said looking back at Lance like he had lost his mind. “It a long story, and a pretty disgusting one, if you ask me, so you may want to wait on the explanation of what this fiasco is until we find out what is going on with Shelby.”Still standing with his mouth open, Logan looked around the room at all of these always perfect people and for the first time in his life saw a kink in the amour.
“Agreed,” Logan said looking at his brother and mouthing ‘what the fuck?’ Just as he was trying to understand the collection of people that were and weren’t gathered at the hospital, a doctor and nurse walked into the room.
“Are you the family for Shelby Beasley?” the older portly doctor said. Logan recognized him from his shop last week.  He had brought in his antique car for repairs.  Logan marveled that he would not have guessed that this man was a doctor standing in his garage. Guess you can’t judge a book by its cover. Logan had never gotten that saying until now.
“Yes, Doctor! How is my daughter?” Sarah Beasley said standing and coming to stand directly in from of him. That, in itself, was weird to Logan. Sarah Beasley was here and wringing her hands in anxiety and Jackson Beasley was nowhere to be seen. Taking a deep breath, the doctor said, “Would you like to sit down?”
“NO, NO! I don’t want to sit down. Tell me what is going on with my daughter,” Sarah yelled at the doctor.
“Well, she has an extensive list of injuries. Her spleen is ruptured, her liver is lacerated and she has eight broken ribs, and her right leg and arm are broken. Now, Shelby has a rare blood type and she had lost so much blood, we will need to do a blood transfusion. Is there anyone here with Rh negative or O blood type?” the doctor said. The woman that had been introduced to Logan as Ivy, raised her hand and said, “I do.”
Shocked, the doctor said, “Well, that is rare.  Are you related to Shelby?” the doctor asked looking around the room.
“Yes! She is her biological mother” Cassidy said to the doctor.
“Ok, I can see this is complicated. Ok, Miss, if you will go with my nurse we can start collecting some blood from you.” The doctor paused to look down at the tablet that he had in his hand. “Unfortunately, the baby did not make it,” the doctor said. He did not realize he had just dropped a bomb on everyone.
“Wait WHAT?” Logan said to the doctor grabbing his arm. “What did you just say?” he finished.
Looking around at the people in the room, the doctor said, “Yes, you all didn’t know? Shelby was 12 weeks pregnant.”
“WHAT?” came all the voices in the room like a choir “PREGNANT?”
Blog Post
The inspiration of the Legacy Series actually came from a personal place for me. My grandmother used to speak of the legacy of our family to us as her grandchildren a great deal. As I am the mother of an eighteen year old young man, I have started to look at the legacy of MY family which, let me tell you, is a book in itself.... WOW!   I used to know a woman that was a TRUE Southern Belle from the crown of her head to the tip of her toes.   She was as sweet as peach pie, I tell you. But if you messed with her, her husband or her kids, you would be less afraid of Hurricane Katrina. So in thinking about a series of books that I wanted to write about a family legacy, her “Southern Charm” came to mind and the rest, I guess you could say, is history.
One of my favorite things about this series is the grandmother, Queenie. Her words, mannerisms and place within her family is my maternal grandmother, with creative license of course. I was very close to her. She one of my favorite people in the world, still is to be honest with you, and she has been deceased for a number of years. So if I can say I have had any “hurdles” in writing this series, it is when it comes to writing Queenie. I always get that little hitch in my chest and longing to sit and talk with her and hear her thoughts on my writing, the genre I have chosen, the sex in my books and just my life on a day to day basis. I have been so amazed and honored at how many people like my stories and get what I am trying to deliver. I have always loved that my maternal aunt was the first person to introduce me to the genre of romance. I used to go and visit my grandmother each summer and I remember spending hour after hour reading her Harlequin Romance books. After a few years, she would take me to the library every couple of weeks to get my own so I would relinquish her books. Ahh, those summers are some of my best memories. I do remember thinking the one element that I wanted in some of those stories is some type of humor. I love to laugh and to make people laugh and in my opinion a lot of romance books are passionate and serious but they don’t have any humor. We all love to laugh, and we all like a little tasteless humor every now and then. Or is that just me and my dirty crazy mind? Anyway, the other thing that was missing in my opinion was the “real” conversation. What I mean by that is, while we ALL do not swear all the time but we do swear every now and then. What woman has not slung an F bomb when she was mad at her man? I would like to meet her so she can help me with my F bombs, because if I was on TV and I was mad at my man, there would be a whole lot of beeps. Anyway, I wanted the conversations between girlfriends and significant others to be real. I wanted to feel like I could hear or see this conversation between these people. Now since I have been published, I get a lot of comments that people do not like that I have made “professional” people into Ghetto birds, which I think is interesting because we, as a society, put such exaltation on “positions” like, “Ok, I am a doctor and so now I never talk dirty with my girlfriends and we never say crazy things to each other and call each other out or I am a CEO, so I don’t get mad and want to slap the hell out of a person that crosses me.”  Our profession does not negate what we are; PEOPLE that have tempers, and dirty minds, and curse and swear when we are amongst our friends and loved ones. So that critique confuses me, but I take all my reviews good and bad and try to incorporate what the reader wants to see into future works. I do not change things totally to what each person wants because, let’s face it, sometimes those that are afraid to do or can’t do are the first ones to critique your work BUT, I am not perfect and I am new to this. I also believe we can always learn from triumph and mistakes. I will say to my critiques on the books that I have written about race; what you read is a reality of our society.   There are racist people in every race.  Acting like it does not happen is irrational in my opinion and what I write is from a perspective of healing certain race relations NOT glorifying them. I am bringing a light to the ignorance, anger and hate. On the topic of interracial relationships and race relations; I am not now, nor have I ever been, a racist person. Do I know people that are racist? Yes. Do I try to encourage them to be better? Yes.  Do I stop befriending them because of their struggle and demons? No. It is not my place to judge any man or woman.
Lastly to those that have read my books and given good and bad critiques, thank you so much. Honestly from the depth of my soul, thank you. I am living my dream, I am writing and I am entertaining and making people happy. I cannot be happier in this journey so, thank you. Even to those that don’t like me or my work; you have to admit, I got to you.  Maybe not the way I would have hoped but, hey, we cannot win them all… right?
Author Interview
Has your perspective on the writing process changed since you became published?
Absolutely; one thing I have found is that I can get into writing. I can be writing 2 to 3 books at a time. I will get so wrapped in my books or research of the book that I want to write and I will forget that I need to cook dinner, or that I have not spoken to my family and friends other than a ‘hi’ and ‘bye’ in days. So I have definitely gotten a great respect for writers that are writing amazing books or CRAP books and still juggle a family, career, friends and hygiene!

Do you work best on a deadline, or do you need freedom from time constraints?
No constraints. I have not really been under a publisher’s deadline. I am an indie author, so any deadlines that I have are created by me. Believe me I can be harder on myself than any publisher could.  I had to stop doing that because I was stressing myself the hell out.

Is there a word or phrase you catch yourself overusing?
Yes, Laughing hysterically! I have recently realized that my friends and I laugh so much when we are talking to each other and spending time together that I have transferred that into my books. 
How do you know you’ve written a good book?
HA! I know I have written a good book when I am writing it and I say (excuse the language) ‘SHUT THE FUCK UP!’ I find that when I am writing I will have a plan and while I am mid-paragraph, I will change my mind on where I want to go with the story and go off the top of my head and surprise the HELL out myself! Ha Ha!

How do you keep your characters and stories organized?
I have a character excel spreadsheet. I will think of a name I want to use in the future or hear a name I want to use and I put it in that spreadsheet.  Then once I have a story line, I will go into the spreadsheet and pick the names of the characters for the story line.  Once I use the names in a story, I put the name of the book next to the name.

Are you a Swooper (write first, edit later,) a Basher (edit each sentence as you go,) or both?
I am a Swooper a TERRIBLE Swooper! Ha Ha! I hate editing, hate hate hate. Did I say hate? Ha Ha.  I will go through the entire book sometimes 250 pages and go through and do a spell check. Then I have a friend that I have read it for me, tell me all the errors and I change them, then I send it to the editor.
What is the one thing you must have to be able to write?
Ice tea, potato chips and music. Oh and my Boston terrier, Ruby.  She is my love-bug and for some reason, she has always been protective of me. I got her when she was five months old. She will sit in her doggie bed and sleep while I write and if she is outside or with my kids while I am writing, it feels like something is off.
What types of scenes are your favorite to write?
Conversation scenes; so for me, that is, I like a lot of conversation rather than description. When I write, I think ‘how do I think this topic and this conversation will go between these two personalities of these characters? How do I think this conversation would go?’  Then I just go. I LOVE it!  I will find myself laughing out loud or even crying. When you can touch yourself… in my humble dirty opinion… you have talent.  Ha Ha.
How do you feel about the term “Mommy Porn”?
What the what now? Ok, I do not get why when you become a mother you are expected to not be kinking and freaky. Then you get the husbands that are like, ‘well, once the kids came, you stopped wanting to swing from the chandelier with me.’ That’s because when she had that baby, she became a “mom” and so can no longer be a big old freak!  Mommy Porn to me is societies’ way of saying, ’you can’t like to have your ass spanked with your arms tied above your head with a silk scarf.’ Yes, I said it! Ha Ha!
I think it is crap. I am a mommy, so I will never allow sexual photos or videos to be taken of me because lets’ face it, you really can’t control that; other than that… what I do in the bedroom does not affect the mother that I am. They entirely are two separate entities.
I also think that women prefer to use their imagination more than men. NOT ALL but most and with dirty books you can do that. You can picture yourself with this delicious man that has been described. But with “daddy porn” THERE IT IS… who-ha and ding-a-ling, no imagination necessary! Ha Ha 
Do you prefer to write 1st or 3rdPerson POV? Why?
I actually like 3rd person POV because in my POV, it’s easier to write the emotions and thoughts of both main characters.
What do you feel are the most important aspects to a good romance?
Passion, communication, and a description of what both parties are feeling for each other.

Are you always in the driver’s seat? Or do your characters drag you along for the ride?
No, I am not always in the driver’s seat. My characters’ personalities tell me what they want to say and do and there are times when I am like, ‘HEY I am the writer here. SHHH!’ Ha Ha.  Wait, does that mean I have multiple personalities? Ha Ha.
What is your least favorite part of the writing process?
EDITING, and FORMATTING! Ha ha
Lightning Round
What is your most cherished possession?
My father’s flag from his military burial, and some handkerchiefs that my grandmother handmade for me.
How do you feel about being the center of attention?
I am a little uncomfortable with it. People can be so mean and hateful and I can be really sensitive sometimes. So being in the spot light is scary to me sometimes.
What makes you blush?
A sexy man telling me I am sexy. Naked people!
What is your worst habit?
Finger nail biting and swearing
Do you have any irrational fears or phobias?
Spiders, bugs, and lightening

What are you the most hopeless at?
Staying angry at people that hurt or violate me. I will forgive and let them right back into my life leaving room for me to be hurt again.

FavoritesFood: PizzaColor: PinkBook: Movie: Calamity Jane, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, The Star Wars Trilogy, FridayBand: Boyz II MenSong: Your Home is in my HeartQuote: "If one is lucky, a solitary fantasy can totally transform one million realities." — Maya AngelouTV Show: Criminal Minds, NCIS, NCIS LA, Rizzoli and Isle and The CloserHoliday: ChristmasSport: FootballGuilty Indulgence: Stilettos Dessert: CheesecakeTime of Day: Sunrise