Avril Ashton's Blog, page 4

Cover Reveal: Call The Coroner

I have here for you, the cover for Call the Coroner.

I am still very much (re)writing the book, so it’s not done as yet. Release will likely be sometime in March. This is all dependent on my health, which has not been the best lately so please, don’t quote me on that.

I’ve reworked the blurb, since certain things often do change once I get into the nitty-gritty of the book. And it’s on Goodreads now, so g’head and add the men to your shelves.

This is by far my bloodiest and most violent book. But I’m sure you expected that, yeah? I’m not glossing over anything.

It’s gonna be all up in your face. All the bloody violence. But also all the feels.

We can’t skip over who Stavros is, because for sure that boy is the worst. like, for real. But I love me some him.

And we can’t escape any of Daniel Nieto’s shit either, because for sure that is a monster.

But there’s also the guilt. And the grief. And the betrayals.

The hardcore fuckery. And the softness.

And the sex.

Aaah, The sex.

Sometimes the obstacles I throw at my men can be hard to understand, and difficult to take. If you’ve been waffling about fucking with my angsty self, you might want to sit this one out. If you want sweet and cuddly, I’ve got some recommendations.

Because your girl is not the one. I come with warnings. Please heed them.

 

Cover by Simply Defined Art (Jay Aheer) Cover Photo by Strangeland Photography (Varian Krylov)

 

 

A clash of wills between predators…

He’s been living underground for a long time, but the only thing guaranteed to bring Daniel Nieto back to the surface is the identity of his wife’s killer. With the whisper of one name, he puts it all on the line for vengeance. He’s got plans for Stavros Konstantinou.

The title of monster fits too well for Stavros to want to be anything other than what he is. Time spent in Daniel Nieto’s dungeon, chained and tortured, will never change that. Starved of food, sunlight and freedom, he waits for an opening to turn the tables on the only man who’s ever come close enough to scare him.

Somewhere between the slide of knife against skin, and the drip of blood on cold concrete, things change. Grief and hatred collide with lust and obsession, and this time Daniel and Stavros are on the same side. This time, they’re fighting a losing battle against a connection forged by much more than a love of violence and bloodshed.

In a war this bloodied, what do you do when the bodies start hitting the floor?

 

**Warning: Gun play, knife play, blood play, breath play. Non Con, Dub Con. Water sports. Triggers**

 

Call The Coroner – An Excerpt

Tomorrow (12/9) will make it a whole month since I’ve been off social media. Well, Twitter and Facebook. I will likely continue to be gone into the new year. While this post will pop up on my FB/Twitter feed, the only way to contact me is by filling out the Contact Form on here.

Other than that, your girl is Casper.

I do not–repeat Do Not–have a release date for Call the Coroner as yet. I’m working on it though. Oh-weee!

But I do have an excerpt for you.

Talk on the flip side.

 

WARNING: Unedited Excerpt Ahead. *’nuff things subject to change.*

 

“Daniel.”

His body jerked, and his gaze flew from Stavros’ mouth back to his eyes. “Never call me that,” he lashed out.

Every time. Every single time he got in the Greek’s vicinity he lost his calm. Lost his focus. Emotion ruled him. Anger and regret along with the new ones, want and betrayal.

“Why am I still here?” Stavros was the calm one, gaze steady, voice smooth. “Why am I still alive?”

Daniel turned away, giving Stavros his back as he headed for the door. He had to get out of there. His chest felt as if it were caving in. The pressure inside him was building, getting too big, too much to contain. He had to get out.

“Don’t you walk away. Answer me,” Stavros yelled. “Fucking answer me. Give me that.”

“Give you?” Daniel swung around and went right back to him. “Give you?” He pulled his gun from his waist. Trembling. That battle he fought? He was losing. The realization crashed down on him in one swoop. “I should give you? After everything you took from me, I should give you?”

“Yes.” So bold. Defiant. It shouldn’t make Daniel’s pulse stutter.

He’d been dead for years, and this man brought him back to life. His voice. His blood. His eyes. They brought Daniel back to life.

And it was wrong.

This want. It was wrong. But wrong felt so right, thick and warm along his spine. 

He put the gun to Stavros’ forehead. Pressed it against him. “You’re alive because you’re mine. Your blood. Your life. Your death. Mine.” Daniel pounded his chest with one hand, the other held the gun pointed at Stavros. Right between the eyes. “Yo decido.” I decide.

The other man just watched him with wide eyes. Accepting.

“I should give you what you gave me.” The words were lava-hot on his tongue. “Sorrow like I’ve never felt. Pain I didn’t think I’d ever escape.” With the way he shook, the gun skidded across Stavros’ forehead, landing at his left temple. “You took her. In the blink of an eye, you took her from me.”

“I know.”

He knew. Of course, he knew what he’d done. The damage he’d caused. The hell he’d unleashed. He knew. “What should I give you then?” Daniel asked in a whisper. “What do I have that you haven’t already taken, Stavros Konstantinou? I have exactly one bullet in this gun. What do you want?”

Stavros stared up at him, teeth in his bottom lip, nostrils flared. The pulse at his throat beat wildly.

Daniel pulled the trigger.

Click.

Stavros didn’t flinch.

“What do you want? Respóndeme,” he roared. He was shattering, he heard it. Heard his control fall to the floor at his feet. His grip on the gun was tenuous at best, same as his grip on his sanity. He stared down at the man on that bed.

Destrozado.

Torn apart.

“Your touch,” Stavros said. His voice, it trembled too. “I want your touch.”

Those words shredded whatever was left inside Daniel. His unsteadiness was apparent as those words rocked him back on his heels. “Do you?” He didn’t blink as he squeezed the trigger again.

Stavros’ lips parted. Lust shadowed his eyes, turned them a dangerous dark. He was captivating with the splash of red on his cheeks and chest. He gripped at the sheet, fisting it and tugging, as his chest rose and fell rapidly.

Daniel’s body throbbed, liking that sight. The monster inside him came alive and clamored for more. “I want to hurt you,” he snarled as he bent, bringing his face down to Stavros’ so they could be nose to nose. “I want to touch you.” He caressed Stavros’ cheek with the length of the gun, holding his head steady with his free hand.

Stavros’ breath sawed out onto Daniel’s lips. He smelled like apple cinnamon, the tea Boyd had been feeding him. He also smelled hot, felt like it, too. Warming Daniel.

Thawing him.

He climbed the bed, body almost smothering Stavros as he went in search of that heat.

“I want to kiss you, and I want to kill you.” Mindless. Directionless—or was he? Because his every focus was on Stavros’ face. His destination.

A sound left Stavros. A moan. His unshackled hand, the right, slid up Daniel’s shoulder and grasped him by the nape as they stared at each other.

They panted together. Stavros looked like Daniel felt.

Feverish.

“And I want to bleed you.”

“Do it. Any one of it,” Stavros whispered against Daniel’s chin. “All of it.”

Daniel brought the gun forward, brushing Stavros’ lips with the muzzle. He wanted the other man to stop talking. Stop shattering his defenses. But Stavros simply parted his lips and licked the gun.

Daniel’s breath hitched.

The heat on slow simmer in his belly turned all the way up to boil, and he pushed the gun deeper into Stavros’ mouth. The Greek’s lashes fluttered. Lips stretched around the tip of the gun, he groaned and didn’t stop sucking it.

Licking.

Fellating.

Oh Dios.

Restraint went out the window.

Israel + Seraphina (Free Read)

Israel Storm and Seraphina Cook have their own special kind of love story to work through. It’s time this mother and her son got their chance.

 

CHAPTER ONE

 

The insistence of a ringing doorbell dragged Reggie kicking and screaming from sleep. He moaned his displeasure, pushing Israel’s arm away from where it rested on Reggie’s belly.

Is rolled away with a grunt, and Reggie tossed an envious glance his lover’s way before he gathered the strength to sit up.

The doorbell went off again.

“Fuck. Me.” It was too fucking early for visitors. He caught sight of the clock atop the dresser and hung his head. Okay, so it was after twelve on a Sunday afternoon.

Still early, damn it.

When he and Israel had stumbled home from the backyard party the night before, the sun had already been high in the sky. That was what? Four hours ago? They’d been drunk and high off the weed, crashing as soon as they got home. Now someone was at the fucking door, abusing the hell out of the doorbell.

“Shit.” He glared at a sleeping Israel. That bastard got have his beauty rest while Reggie had to put on pants and stumble downstairs. He planned to shoot whoever was stupid enough to wake him. At the bottom of the stairs, he blinked the sleep and brightness from his eyes before stomping over to the front door and yanking it open. “What the fu—”

“Well. Hello, there.”

Ugh. “Seraphina.” Naturally, it had to be her crazy ass standing there, eyeing him like something she was dying to figure out.

“Reggie, right?” She smiled when he grimaced, pushing past him and stepping into the house while he tried to figure out how much Israel would hate him if Reggie killed his mother.

Might be worth it.

“Late night?” She didn’t look back at him as she walked into the house and took a seat on the couch. Legs crossed, hands folded in her lap, the most serene expression on her face.

Man, looks were so fucking deceiving.

“Early morning.” He strode past where she sat in the living room, and entered the kitchen. He needed coffee. Shit. They had none. His gaze landed on a baggie of weed either he or Israel had left on the kitchen counter.

Maybe a smoke. God knew he’d need it if Seraphina planned to stay for more than fifteen minutes.

But the backwood was upstairs.

He groaned as he grasped onto the counter and bowed his head.

“Where’s Colin?”

He stiffened, but didn’t turn around to face his lover’s mother. It was his love for Israel that kept Reggie for lashing out at Seraphina for referring to Israel as Colin. “Why are you here, Seraphina? What do you want?”

“I’ve come to see my son.” She said it as if those words made everything okay. As if she didn’t know being close to her tore Israel in a million different directions and fucked with his head.

Not to mention his heart.

Reggie turned around then. She stood in the kitchen doorway, dressed in a cream-colored blouse with pearls at her throat, close-fitting mint-green pants that stopped at her calves, and tan heels. Eyes wide and curious as she stared at Reggie.

He didn’t trust her.

She had a way of scorching everything and everyone in her path. And she had her sights set on his lover.

“Where is he?” she asked again.

“He asked you for space, didn’t he?” Reggie crossed his arms. “But you can’t help yourself. You want in his life so badly, you’re going to break the fuck in, aren’t you?”

Seraphina cocked her head, a smile curving full lips painted something dark and glossy. “You don’t like me, do you, Reggie?” He didn’t answer, and she asked, “You think I’m going to hurt my own son?”

“I think you’re just like Is,” Reggie told her. “Dangerous and deadly, dipped in blood.” He pushed away from the counter. “I’m in love with your son, so on him, those traits are sexy as fuck. But you…on you they’re an annoyance I don’t care to deal with.”

Something flashed in her eyes. Anger. There one second. Gone the next. And when she smiled, Reggie wished he didn’t feel a sudden chill.

“I’ve been called many thing, Reggie.” She pursed her lips. “Never been an annoyance before.”

He could just bet. “Normally, I don’t waste time on annoyances,” he confided in her. “But I’ll make an exception for you, if you break his heart.”

“There’s no need for you to worry. I would never—”

“His heart is mine to protect. Mine to keep safe.” He picked up the bag of weed from the counter and brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply. Fuuck. “I’m gonna speak nice and slow so you’ll get it: break his heart and I will break you.” Holding her gaze, he reassured her, “Nothing about my threats are idle.”

“I like you,” she said, and he watched grudging respect brighten her eyes. “You love him. I understand, but know this, Reggie…” She straightened in the doorway. “I just want him. I just want my son. I want to know him and I want him to know me.” Her hard shell dissolved then, exposing the vulnerable woman underneath.

He saw the need she’d been keeping under wraps, the need for her son. No way would he begrudge her that, but he meant his words. Woman or not. Mother or not.

She’d pay if she hurt Israel.

“I love him,” she told him in a weak whisper, burdened down with pain. “He’s the only good thing in my life, and I need him.”

“He’s not your fucking absolution,” Reggie snapped as he walked past her. “Wait here.” Halfway up the stairs, he said. “And don’t call him Colin, for fuck’s sake.”

At the door to their bedroom, he paused to take a deep breath before entering. Israel was naked, lying on his stomach with one of the pillows hugged up underneath him. One leg stretched out, the other bent with his knee hanging off the mattress. The checkered blue and gray comforter was bunched up at the foot of the bed.

His body was sick, cut and well-muscled, smooth lickable brown, taut ass right there to grab on to.

Reggie’s groin stirred, but now was so not the time. Shit.

He slammed the door behind him. “Is.”

Israel jerked upright, the pillow flying off the bed. “Huh?” He blinked at Reggie then groaned, falling backward onto the bed. “Fuck. What, Reg?” He covered his eyes with an arm.

“Your mother is downstairs.”

Israel stiffened and he dropped his arm slowly. “What?”

“Seraphina is downstairs.”

“The fuck?” Israel sat up again, slower this time. “You just let her in?”

Reggie sighed as he went over and climbed onto the bed. “She wants to see you, Is.” He slid a hand over Israel’s shoulder blade and gripped his nape gently. “I can play guard dog and chase her away. You know I can, but I think that’s not what you want.”

Israel just watched him. Spooked. That shit was not a good look on him.

“You want her in your life, babe.” He got up on his knees, facing Israel as he leaned forward. “And I’m here to make sure you get anything you want.” Reggie kissed his lover softly, tenderly. “I threatened to kill her if she hurts you.”

Israel huffed out a laugh.

“So she’s on notice.” Reggie sat back on his haunches and grasped Israel’s face in his hands. Holding him like that, staring into his eyes, Reggie told him, “I’m here to keep you safe. To watch your back. I don’t care who it is.” When Israel’s gaze skated away, Reggie tightened his hold on him. “I don’t care who it is,” he repeated. “I got your back.”

Israel closed his eyes and put his forehead against Reggie’s. Reggie embraced him. Hugged him close, held him tightly in the privacy of their bedroom. He didn’t need the words to know Israel was scared to let Seraphina into his heart, into his life. They didn’t need to speak for Reggie to know his lover felt torn between Seraphina and the brother he’d only recently acquired, but already loved.

The same brother Seraphina tortured and broke.

Reggie didn’t have to ask to understand that Israel felt as if he was betraying Donovan by wanting what every boy should have.

His mother.

He caressed Israel’s nape then slid his hands down his naked back. “I love you,” he said into the hazy silence.

Israel’s head turned and warm lips pressed to Reggie’s neck. Those lips lingered.

Then Israel pulled away. “Okay.” He jerked his head with a sigh. “Okay.”

Reggie released him and Israel climbed off the bed, stepping into the jeans he wore the day before. When he went for the t-shirt, Reggie stopped him.

“You spilled Carib on that one last night.”

Israel sniffed the piece of clothing then tossed it aside. As he rummaged in his drawers for a clean t-shirt, Reggie stripped and made his way to the bathroom.

“You coming too, right?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You need to be alone with her, Is,” he said over his shoulder. “And I need a shower.”

“Fuck.” Israel stormed into the bathroom and went about brushing his teeth and splashing water on his face. When he was finished, before he exited the bathroom, Reggie gripped him.

“Is.” Reggie hugged him again then brushed a thumb over Israel’s chin. “Go.” He kissed him, hard and fast, before stepping back. “I’ll be here, waiting.”

 

*****

 

She looked as though she belonged there. Hunched over the counter, humming something he didn’t recognize while chopping carrots.

Either Israel was more fucked up and hungover than he’d first thought, or Seraphina Cook, the woman who’d given birth to—then subsequently abandoned—him, was cooking in his kitchen.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, and seriously debated going back upstairs. This woman—his mother—was turning him into a fucking coward.

She moved toward the fridge then stopped when she spotted him. “Col—Um, Israel.” Her eyes, they brightened by degrees as she watched him.

Hungrily.

Not a physical hunger, but an emotional one. Still made him uncomfortable, still made his chest tighten as the need in her called up the need in him. He wasn’t prepared for this. For her.

He didn’t know how much more his heart could expand to make room for her. He’d had to make room for Reggie, and he’d thought that hard enough. Impossible enough. Then he’d discovered he had a brother, and somehow there’d been space in there for Donovan and the family he brought with him.

Now Seraphina wanted her own piece of his heart.

“What—” He cleared his throat. “What are you doing?” He sounded hoarse, from the hard partying the night before? Or maybe the cause was this, the sight of his mother doing something as mundane as cooking?

“Making something for you boys to eat,” she said easily. “Reggie looked hungover. I figured you two might want—”

“You don’t have to do that.” He shook his head. “You don’t.”

She nodded. “I know.” Picking up a piece of carrot, she popped it into her mouth and chewed. “But I want to.”

He didn’t know how to deal with her. Couldn’t settle on one emotion to feel in her presence. The needy boy he used to be cried out for his mother, but the roughened and jaded man he was now couldn’t afford her.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“To ask you for a chance.” She came over to him, standing there in front of him. He saw her strength and her confidence, but he also saw the flipside. The weakness and vulnerability reflected in the depths of eyes as dark as his.

Him.

He was her weakness and her vulnerability.

“I know I should give you time,” she said. “And I know you don’t owe me anything. I’m the one.” She fingered the pearls at her throat. “I’m the one with the debt, and I want to start repaying it. Please.” She reached out a hand slowly.

He tensed.

Soft fingertips. They touched his face, his cheek.

He was a grown man. Long past the years when he needed his mother’s touch to soothe him, to heal the cracks in the very depths of his soul. Long past the years when a maternal caress would be able to unravel him.

Yet she unraveled him.

“I want to be your mother.” If words could bleed, he imagined hers would paint him scarlet. “Let me.” Her touch trembled.

Making him tremble.

“Please. Israel, let me be your mother. Let me be the woman I should have been.”

His chest hurt and he had to fist his hands to stop from reaching for her. She could hurt him. This woman, she could destroy him in ways only a mother could. He wanted to not feel this thing.

He wasn’t ready to feel this thing.

“I stopped needing a mother a long time ago,” he rasped.

Disappointment dimmed her eyes and she dropped her, but he grabbed it.

Clung to it.

Fuck. “I don’t need you, Seraphina. But I want you in my life.”

Her lips parted as she tried to speak, but he rushed ahead. Otherwise he might lose his nerve. Or maybe come to his senses.

“I’m choosing to give you a chance,” he said around the boulder in his throat. “I’m choosing to trust you. I’m choosing you.”

Her eyes got wider, her expression slack. And Israel ended up with an armful of her.

His mother.

Sobbing into his chest.

He tightened his hold on her and closed his eyes, trapping his own tears before they fell.

 

 

**Ongoing free read. Chapters will be posted once a week, at the very latest. Don’t know how long this read will be, but this is all about tying up the loose ends between Is and his mother. We all need them to get their closure** 

Kiss Your Scars

Here’s what’s next in the Loose Ends world.

 

Cover by Jay Aheer
Photo by Strangeland Photography

Being the king of Atlanta’s underworld used to have its perks, but lately all undercover agent Renzo Vega has seen is the downside. Someone is auctioning off women in his city, and he’s damn sure not about to let that offense stand. Just as he’s set to make a move, Renzo’s club is ambushed and he’s shot. Unsure of who to trust, he turns to the one man he definitely knows wants him dead.

Yanked from his bed, blindfolded and spirited away in the middle of the night, Lowell Scott is shocked to find the darkly gorgeous Renzo bleeding and in need of his help. The very last thing he wants is to heal the man who gunned down his cousin and shattered his family. But there’s a knife to his throat and the promise of death in the criminal’s eyes.

Close proximity doesn’t temper the hatred Low harbors for Renzo, it only brings up new problems. Like the vicious attraction Low struggles to control, and bullets that won’t stop flying. It’s a tough sell to believe there’s anything good in a man as unapologetically dangerous as Renzo. And even if Low can forgive the unforgivable, Renzo is still shadowed in secrets. When they’re exposed, those secrets will bring far-reaching consequences that could sever not just their shaky bond, but Low’s family ties as well.

 

*no release date is set as of yet…

Out Now: Scars and Ruin!

After much ado, my boys are finally, finally out in the wild.

You weren’t the only ones waiting for Dutch and Patel to their ish right. You weren’t the only ones needing to know what. is. up. with those fools.

LOL

Been a long time.

Aside from Levi and Donovan, no other characters have been living in my head this Goddamn long.

But they’re out. I’m free, damn it. And I want them back.

Ugh.

Bitter-sweet.

It’s bitter-sweet, y’all.

They’re on Amazon and All Romance.

Kobo, iTunes, and Nook will take a bit longer. But I will update the page here, and social media, when they’re up.

I hope you enjoy this one, I really do. It’s different, as somebody told me recently. Different from my usual.

But I still had to put the funk in it. You know how I do my thing.

I look forward to your emails asking whose book is next.

 

Hotter the Love by Lea Bronsen

 

After sexy cover model Yushka proposed, life is more turbulent than ever for erotic romance author Andrea. He is expecting a baby with his ex-girlfriend, who says she doesn’t want to keep it. How will Andrea’s sons take upcoming life changes? To make things more complicated, her ex goes to great lengths to coax her back, and one of her sons’ girlfriend is a tad too interested in Andrea’s young and very handsome fiancé…

On the writing front, Andrea anxiously awaits news on her latest manuscript submission, and she has to decide whether to accept her publisher’s offer to model in a sexy photo shoot—the same kind she and Yushka did in Cannes—in the hopes of making a new “Cover Photo of the Year”. Considering the erotic poses the previous photographer demanded, can Andrea model with another guy other than Yushka?

Excerpt

We enter a hall so big the tiniest sound echoes. It’s quite humbling. I shrink in my clothes and barely dare to breathe. Dark wood furniture towers over us, with a mix of contradictory smells—orchid-scented sanitizer and old dust—filling the space.

Shoes clamping on a hardwood floor, we follow the tall, silver-haired man into a living room with exquisite furniture, gold-framed mirrors, and classic paintings on the walls. Heavy velvet curtains adorn the windows, and an impressive floor-to-ceiling library on one side has to contain literary curiosities from every part of the world. Marveling, I study each magnificent object.

The man stops and glares across the room, his facial expression clearly one of annoyance. What an oppressive atmosphere.

Yushka stands beside him and stares in the same direction.

I follow their gaze. A young and strikingly beautiful woman is half-seated on a green velvet couch with her legs folded underneath her. Dark doe eyes and pink lips stand out in a pale, oval face. A waterfall of rich, glowing auburn-colored hair contrasts with her white dress. She looks cast in a scene from the Russian classic Doctor Zhivago. Beneath full breasts, a pregnant belly protrudes, far too round and big for her frail frame. Jekaterina?

My chest tightens. The more I look at her, the more her beauty takes my breath away. She’s the woman Yushka was in love with last year. The one he slept with and impregnated.

Her gaze is riveted on him, the recognition and warmth fiery.

I shoot him a glance. His features are tight, as if he’s trying to hide his reaction, but he doesn’t take his gaze off her. This is exactly what I feared. They’ve had feelings for each other. Maybe meeting now will revive them. He has fallen for her once, so why would he not fall for her again?

I feel bad, nauseous, want to get out of here. But she’s carrying the baby girl I’m going to call mine very soon. I need to overcome my unease. Hopefully, once the formalities are done, this is the only time we’ll have to meet.

She tells him a few words in Russian, her voice the cooing of a turtledove.

Yushka replies calmly, but his throat sounds choked. He grabs my hand, palm sweaty, and leads me to a sofa opposite hers. His discomfort is more than clear in his features. He tears his gaze from her and searches me, his expression vibrating with an intensity I seldom see. It hits me—he’s afraid.

I squeeze his hand. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” he replies instantly, but his tension is palpable.

My chest tightens to a painful level. What is he so nervous about? From his interaction with Jekaterina, this has nothing to do with the baby. It’s about them, their relationship, and me. Is he afraid he’ll have to choose between us?

Goodness, I’m delirious. I sit very still, take small, shallow breaths, and pray for everything to be all right. Then bolt out of this house after the arrangements are resolved.

Jekaterina addresses me, her dark pupils glimmering. “You’re very beautiful. Are you a model, too?”

I’m as taken aback by her speaking a fluent English as I am by her compliment, and need a few seconds to shake myself. “Um, no, I’m not.”

She raises a brow. “That’s funny. I would’ve sworn you were a model. So how did you two meet?”

“At an author conference.”

Yushka clears his throat. “Andrea writes books, and I’m featured on the cover of her last one.”

“Oh, how exciting.” Her lips curve upward. I can’t decide whether it’s a genuine smile or she’s faking it.

“Yes,” he continues. “That’s why we … uh … were bound to meet. They had organized a Meet-and-Greet for authors and cover models of their books.” Why does he sound like he’s trying to make an excuse?

She flutters her long lashes at me. “What kind of books do you write?”

Before I can answer, her father walks over to a cabinet and picks up a bunch of papers. “All right, enough chit-chat.” His voice booms like thunder.

 

Book trailer

https://youtu.be/ho7fOUvnFfw

 

Book links

Evernight Publishing / Amazon.com / Amazon.uk / Bookstrand / Barnes & Noble / Kobo / All Romance eBooks / Goodreads / Pinterest

 

 

About the other books in the series

The Perfect Shoot (book #1)

When Andrea Johnson, writing as author Cindy Vega, signed up for a Meet & Greet with the cover model of her latest book, she didn’t expect sparks to fly. Yushka is dangerously good-looking and too young for her. But their connection is instantaneous, and during a photo shoot with the two, the photographer picks up on their growing attraction. Seeing the potential for THE cover photo of the century, he decides to push their comfort limits…

Get The Perfect Shoot at http://www.evernightpublishing.com/the-perfect-shoot-by-lea-bronsen/

 

Mine to Love (book #2)

The writing conference in sunny Cannes was fantastical, a dream. Back at home, reality catches up with author Andrea Johnson and the sexy cover model of her book, Yushka. With tough working schedules, challenging family relations, and seductive temptation from all sides, the couple’s explosive romance is put to the test. Will their love be strong enough to have a future?

Get Mine to Love at http://www.evernightpublishing.com/mine-to-love-by-lea-bronsen/

 

About the author

I like my reads hot, fast, and edgy, and strive to give my own stories the same intensity. After venturing into dirty inner-city crime drama with my debut novel Wild Hearted, I divide my writing time between psychological thriller, suspense romance, and erotic dark/contemporary romance.

I love to hear from my readers! Write to leabronsen@yahoo.com or meet me on:

Website / Lea’s Crazy Nights Blog / Facebook profile / Facebook page / Twitter / Amazon

Re-Release: Saint’s Surrender

Saint’s Surrender releases today.

Formerly titled Till Surrender, this is paranormal. It’s MM, and it’s about 36k. If you’ve already read the previous version you won’t be missing out on anything if you don’t get this one.

And if you haven’t yet tasted my paranormal side, now’s your chance.

You might notice the book won’t be on iBooks or Kobo. The cover was too much for them so um, they said nope to publishing it. That’s a first for me, and I’ve been too not okay to pick a fight with them over it.

It is what it is.

The book is out. Your support, as always, means everything, and I thank you, as always, for giving me a chance *smile*

Buy at ARe  Buy at Amazon    Buy at Barnes and Noble

 

Let’s talk about what I know every last of yous want to know.

Dutch and Patel.

Still no news on a date for when they’ll be ready. Yes, they will be out before the year is up.

At this point, I’m taking my time to make sure my head is right. To make sure I am okay, before I take on these boys.

It has to be that way.

I appreciate your understanding.

Always.

Update

The release of Scars and Ruin has been pushed back, put on hold.

It’s not something I wanted to do, but as the guys in my facebook group knows, I’ve been having some issues health-wise.

That means my mind isn’t right and if my mind isn’t right, I can’t work to make sure I’m putting out my best. Until that happens the laptop stays closed and I stay in bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Eventually, I’ll be back to my best, but right now isn’t it.

So I’m stepping back.

I’m disappointing you with this news, I know. But I hope you know that it’s not for lack of fighting to get better. And I also hope you understand.

Pre-Order Saint’s Surrender

Saint’s Surrender is now available for pre-order.

 

Tattooed half-breed, Takayo ‘Saint’ St. John, kills for the Paranormal Security Council with single-minded efficiency. He’s never questioned or failed his assignments…until he stares into the cornflower blue eyes of Ryken Valte, the man whose life he’s infiltrated under false pretenses. Harsh words and a cold shoulder isn’t enough to keep the distance between them, but Saint’s mission hangs over his head. His job is to kill the brother of the man he loves and he sees no way out of his predicament.

Ryken melts under the intense attraction between him and Saint, but the man keeps pushing him away, denying their connection. He’d give up everything, do anything, to have Saint at his side and in his bed, but secrets bigger than them make it impossible. Ryken yearns for Saint’s surrender, but he’ll get more than he bargained for when dark forces neither comprehends return with a vengeance.

Pre-Order from Amazon

 

****

Remember, this is a previously published book. Formerly known as Till Surrender. It’s been re-edited, and the cover has of course been updated, but the integrity of the story hasn’t been changed.

For those of you who haven’t yet sampled my paranormal wares, I hope you’ll like this one.

I’m still in the middle of writing Scars and Ruin (Dutch and Patel). No updates on that front.

See you on the other side

Love’s Changes by LaQuette

I want to take the time out from always yapping about moi to bring you a little juicy some’n from an author who is near and dear to me. LaQuette is debuting her first M/M novella and I am honored to share her awesomesauce-ness (it is a word) with you.

Read the blurb and excerpt then g’head and pre-order this book.

That’s an order!

Oh, and there’s a Rafflecopter giveaway at the end for you to enter.

Love’s Changes: A Losing My Way Novella

© 2016 All Rights Reserved

by

LaQuette

Genre: M/M Erotic Romance

 

 

 

Blurb:

 

A near-fatal shot through his chest teaches Lieutenant Bryan Smyth of the NYPD two things: He wants to live to see more days and he wants to spend them with his estranged husband, Justice.

Poor decisions made under the strain of grief split the seams of their marriage. Now it’s up to Bryan to show Justice there’s still enough of their love left to salvage from the ruins, still something worth the battle ahead.

Bryan’s shooting has opened Justice’s eyes to new lessons too. The first, tomorrow isn’t promised, the second, life’s too short to live in misery. Justice has watched Bryan shuffle back and forth attempting to balance the man he is at home and the man he has to be at the precinct for too long. Now, he’s done.

The only problem is Justice’s heart is having a hard time adhering to the exit strategy in his head.

Desperate to repair their bond, Bryan does the only thing he can to keep his marriage intact, he calls his crazy sister-in-law, True to stir up some organized chaos. She’s a wildcard, yes.  As unstable and deadly as nitroglycerin, but she gets the one thing Bryan needs more than anything, results.

The only question left: Is family and fidelity enough to get them through love’s changes, or is this really the end?

 

Excerpt:

 

As soon as he heard the lock turn from the outside, Justice was on his feet and heading in the direction of the door.

“It’s two o’ clock in the fucking morning and you’re just dragging your ass in here now?”

Justice watched glass-like eyes stare back at him.  He pulled Bryan by his collar, leaving him close enough to soak up the intoxicating scent of Bryan’s natural man-spice aroma mixed with liquor.

“You went drinking with him?”

Bryan’s eyes focused on him a split second before he pulled out of Justice’s grasp. “Yeah, we had a few, then went to see a movie.  What of it?”

Bryan pushed past him and headed for the bathroom.  He opened his pants and pulled out his long cock before positioning himself in front of the toilet.

“A little privacy?” Bryan quipped.

“Not anything I haven’t seen before.” Justice wedged his shoulder into the doorframe as he watched Bryan.  He had to admit, watching Bryan take a piss wasn’t on his ‘Things that turn me on list’, but he wasn’t about to give Bryan an inch of privacy until he knew every fucking detail of the evening Bryan spent with that fucking Herrera.

Bryan shrugged his shoulders, oblivious to, or unconcerned with, Justice’s building anger, and relieved himself without further thought.  When he was done, he washed his hands, then turned the shower on and adjusted the spray.

As he began to remove his clothing he stopped to look at Justice.  “I’ve had a long day.  I’m gonna take a shower and take my ass to bed.  You wanna fight?  You’ll be fighting alone tonight.”

Without giving Justice another glance, or thought as it appeared, Bryan stepped inside of the darkened shower stall.

Justice stood in the middle of the floor waiting, for what he couldn’t really pinpoint.  Acknowledgement, an explanation, contrition, something from Bryan that expressed some form of regret that he’d done something to piss Justice off, instead Bryan’s slightly drunk ass—if his whistling of some pop tune was any indication of his intoxication level—continued on behind the smoky shower glass as if Justice wasn’t even in the room.

Bryan finished his shower, pulled a towel from the nearby rack and tied it around his waist.  He stepped around Justice, and headed for their bedroom. 

Justice tried hard not to stare at Bryan’s water-slicked skin.  Bryan at any given time was a turn-on for him.  Bryan naked and wet looking like something Justice should be licking or sopping up with a biscuit had a way of making him forget his train of thought. 

At the moment Justice knew he was supposed to be mad about something, but watching his man saunter in front of him, shoulders pulled back in confidence, the globes of his ass sitting high and tight, Justice could scarcely remember what he’d eaten for dinner, let alone the complicated trigger to his inner-asshole.

He palmed the hard bulge of his jean-clad cock and closed his eyes, trying his damnedest to remain focused on anything other than being buried in Bryan’s ass.  After a few moments of fighting with his mind and body, he walked into their bedroom.  Bryan was still in his towel, sitting at the edge of the foot of the bed.

“Bryan, I can’t believe you’re really going to let this asshole fuck with your recovery like this.  You fucking know better.  All this jack-off is after is getting a piece of ass.”

“So what if he is?” Bryan’s answer striking a fast and fierce blow to Justice’s chest.  “So what if the only thing he wants from me is a good, hard fuck?  Why the fuck does that matter to you?  Why do you get a say in that?  You just filed divorce papers.  Obviously you don’t care about who fucks me or who I fuck.”

Molten heat carved through the walls of his chest, into the center of his heart.  The gripping pain caused his breath to rush past his lips.

“I will always care about you, Bryan.  About everything you do,” he whispered.

Bryan’s flat palms rested against his spread thighs, holding his heavy shoulders up as they threatened to slump in defeat.

“You don’t act like it.  You act like you don’t want anything to do with me.  Like you hate me,” Bryan flinched as he spoke, like the thought of Justice hating him physically hurt. 

Justice averted his eyes; he knew if he found the same sadness in Bryan’s eyes as he did his words, he was going to crumble right where he stood.

“I’ve never lived in the closet, Bryan.  I’ve been out since I knew what gay meant.  I married you knowing that you weren’t comfortable with your sexuality. That was my fault.  I shouldn’t have fought you over the divorce when you asked me for it.  I should have seen the writing on the wall then.  But I loved you so much, I couldn’t bear to think of walking away.”

“And now you can?” Bryan’s words were quiet, but the question shook him from the inside out making Justice’s body twitch with nervous energy.

No

The small word bounced off the inside of his head and made its way to his hollow heart.  This was killing him.  Letting go of the only man he’d loved, relinquishing his claim on Bryan, it was breaking him.

“What happened while I was in that coma to make you give up on us, Justice?  Why are you so hell-bent on giving up now?” The mixture of frustration and pain in Bryan’s voice was nearly choking Justice.  “For five fucking years I pushed to end our marriage and you refused, you fought for us, even when I couldn’t.  And now that I can finally see what a fool I was you want to bounce?  What made this happen, Justice?”

“I just got tired of being the only one fighting for us.  After watching you nearly die, I didn’t have the energy to come back to us fighting about these same issues.  Your fear to live in the light as a gay man has been slowly killing us for years,” Justice offered.  “I’m just finally giving you the freedom to live as you’ve always wanted, in the shadows.”

Justice heard an audible breath cross Bryan’s lips.  It’s heavy sound pulling his eyes from their current position on the floor to his husband’s face.

He’d expected to find the sadness he’d been avoiding, but instead he found Bryan’s features twisted into an angry scowl. 

“You know what Justice…fuck you!’

 

Pre-Order at AMAZON
Pre-Order at ARe

 

 

 

 

Author Bio:

2015 Swirl Awards Bronze winner in Romantic Suspense, 2015 Georgia Romance Writers Maggie Award Finalist in Erotic Romance, bestselling erotic romance author, LaQuette, is a native of Brooklyn, New York. She spends her time catering to her three distinct personalities: Wife, Mother, and Educator.

Writing–her escape from everyday madness–has always been a friend and comforter. She loves writing and devouring romance novels. Although she possesses a graduate degree in English Lit, she’d forego Shakespeare any day to read something hot, lusty, and romantic.

She loves hearing from readers and discussing the crazy characters that are running around in her head causing so much trouble. Contact her on Facebook, Twitter, her website, NovelsbyLaQuette.com, Amazon, her Facebook group, LaQuette’s Lounge, and via email at NovelsbyLaQuette@gmail.com. 

 

Newsletter Signup

Hello,

If you’re interested in staying current with all of the happenings with my writing, previews, and giveaways, sign up for my monthly newsletter by clicking here.

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway