Dianne will be awarding a $15 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter! Check each stop for an exclusive excerpt and a chance to win!!
The Karthagans have regained their ancient powers of manipulating nature, but at the price of madness. In their lust for control, they’ve destroyed their island and most of their race. They come now to Belega, where one of them, Camron, seeks domination over the known world. The Mage has come from the northern continent of Sennia to bring peace, but finding his strength no match for the coming struggle, he passes his abilities on to Natan, who only desires a simple life.
Now only Natan has the ability to stop Camron, but the personal cost is more than he imagines. It is only with the combined strength of his friends, his Karthagan lover, Kavi, and his deep desire to bring lasting peace to the earth, that he finds the courage to overcome Camron and restore balance to the world.
Dianne will be awarding a $15 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter! Check each stop for an exclusive excerpt and a chance to win!!
Alex is twenty and confused. He always is. The world presses on him with its horrors and pain, with scintillating auras that bewilder his eyes and drive the migraines deeper. He hears the cries of the children, sees the brutal images of tortured victims. He feels out of control and his mind slips …
Severely abused as a child, he is left with horrible scars on his body and even worse scars within his mind. Even though it puts him in danger, he’s compelled to help those who call to him. He’s driven, motivated by his visions to rescue them and hopefully uncover the killer. When he can, he helps the police; yet some detectives suspect he’s involved. Often, Alex finds himself alone and afraid in a world he doesn’t always understand.
“October Country . . . that country where it is always turning late in the year. That country where the hills are fog and the rivers are mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger, and mid-nights stay. That country composed in the main of cellars, sub-cellars, coal-bins, closets, attics, and pantries faced away from the sun. That country whose people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts. Whose people passing at night on the empty walks sound like rain. . . .”
“October Country . . . that country where it is always turning late in the year. That country where the hills are fog and the rivers are mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger, and mid-nights stay. That country composed in the main of cellars, sub-cellars, coal-bins, closets, attics, and pantries faced away from the sun. That country whose people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts. Whose people passing at night on the empty walks sound like rain. . . .”
Dimmy can’t trust the people who are supposed to love him and can’t wholly love the man who has stolen his heart.
Nightclub dancer, Dimmy Cirillo, is living a nightmare. He doesn’t want to be the boy-toy his father is pimping him out to be, but he has no way out.
Construction-company heir, Liam McAllister, wasn’t looking to become anyone’s white knight, but he couldn’t stop himself from helping the willowy, tattooed man who takes his breath away. But Liam isn’t out, and he won’t tell his father – the repercussions would be disastrous. His only truth is found in Dimmy’s love.
If Liam waits too long to be the man he knows he should be, he risks losing Dimmy. Worse, Dimmy might fall back into his father’s clutches.
Both men have to face standing up for themselves and for their love. It’s the fight of their lives, and they have to win.
Here is an excerpt:
I slam my beer bottle on the bar and drop from my stool. I shove a path through the glittering rainbow bodies on the dance floor until I reach the center where Dimmy is crouched on the floor at the older man’s feet. His shiny hair is still snagged in the asshole’s fists, his head jerking back and forth with the guy’s annoyance.
“First the piercings and all the tattoos, and now this,” the older man shouts, so he can be heard above the Thompson Twins. “Come on, Dimitri. Why do you have to do shit like this? You’re always forgetting I gave you this,” he gestures to the cube, “and I can take it away.”
“I just—”
“Look at me and listen carefully. This is my hair, Dimitri.” He leans down and grasps Dimmy’s face in his hands, holding it so Dimmy is forced to gaze into the man’s eyes. The older man’s volume remains steady. “You should have asked me before you changed it.” He has the gall to chuckle. “I’m the only one in this family with an eye for color, right?”
“Sorry.” I strain to hear the meek response. “I-I’ll change it back, Dad.”
Dad? So this creep is the “big deal” manager of All the Feels Lounge. Dimmy’s soon-to-be pimp—if Alva’s got it right—and his father. Gregory Cirillo, trying to impose his will on such a free spirit.
“Okay, one more time because you’re a little bit…um, challenged. I let you know how to groom yourself.” His speech is insultingly slow. Apparently, Gregory doesn’t care who hears him chastise his son. He softens the verbal blow by once again laughing and even winking at Dimmy. “For Christ’s sake, kid, you wouldn’t know when to wipe your ass if I didn’t give you the green light.”
Dimmy closes his eyes, and it’s like somebody stuck a pin in him. He deflates into a pile of skin and bones on the floor. It kills me, and I don’t even know him.
“Now get back to work. Meet me in my office when you’re finished. Cash is tight this week. Your tips better impress me.”
The kid huddles on the floor until his father strides away. None of his fans from earlier in the night approach to help him to his feet, but I do. I step close and bend enough to offer my hand, which Dimmy accepts after glancing nervously around him. Once standing, he brushes the sticky hair from his face. This is when it happens. His hollow gaze meets my heated one. It’s like somebody struck a match in my heart and set it ablaze.
Now I know exactly what my type of man is.
MY REVIEW!
Mia Kerick does not disappoint!
Mia kerick has long been one of my go-to authors when I want something special, and once again she delivers with Whatever He Needs. Dimmy is the beautiful, sensual go-go dancer at the bar Liam frequents, brave and broken, who yet tries every day to break out of the chains of abuse and exploitation his father binds around him. Liam, successful and self-confident, becomes a father figure to Dimmy, saving him from his father’s cruelty. And yet, as they come to know each other better, they realize their friendship and love has grown into something more. They not only complete each other, but raise each other up to become their more authentic selves. This is a story of how friendship and understanding can heal, and that even opposites can find lasting love.
Welcome to my book tour for LUKA! I will be awarding a $20 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to one randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Follow the tour for more chances to win!
Luka makes a desperate wish and the earth shifts to his will. Regretting it immediately, he tries to undue the sorcery, but it is too late. He asked for hope, and to his horror, all the hope in the world is given into his keeping. He desires nothing more than to return this gift to the world.
Aethan wants to get his hands on the Well of Hope in Luka’s keeping. If he can ransom out hope to others at his whim, the world will be at his feet. Where it belongs.
With the aid of his lover, Rhys, Luka stays one step ahead of Aethan. But Rhys has his own enemy in Aethan, his estranged father.
Rescued by Luka, his sweet, gentle witch, Rhys now stands with him against Aethan. They have vowed to return the Well of Hope to the earth despite all odds, or die trying. For what is life worth, for anyone, without hope?
EXCERPT:
Luka settled cross-legged on the hearth with a murmured word of gratitude to the fire as its warmth surrounded him. Keeping a veiled eye on the woodpile, he crumbled a crust of bread and honey onto the stones. The animals had grown skittish of late, and he missed their company on his long tramps through the forest. The cabin had grown lonely without Rhys’s vibrant presence.
The thoughts of his lover sent his gaze to the small stack of books he kept close at hand to leaf through during the long empty nights. He’d rescued the young man from a brutish existence at the hands of a madman, and the stories were all that would ease his frantic, tortured mind. Rhys would sit close to Luka while Luka read the heroic tales until his head would nod, and he’d slump into Luka’s arms, a warm, living presence in his solitary life.
Luka raised his head, attentive. Winter gathered outside the latched door, wind howling through the trees, sending their limbs scratching along the roof. A shiver traveled up his spine. Something darker than the storm was coming.
The fire snapped in a shower of sparks, recalling his attention. He drew a small bundle of twigs from a pocket, cupped it in his worn, nut-brown hands, and breathed in the scent of juniper and sage. Chanting the words his mother had taught him long ago, he tossed the clump into the flames. A tendril of smoke rose, twirled in lazy circles in the air and brushed against his face.
He breathed deeply, holding in his lungs the heady smoke of the sage and grasses he’d gathered by the stream last autumn. His thoughts cleared. He saw everything! Snow whipped through the darkness between the trees, carried on the fierce wind. His beloved animals huddled in the scrub brush for safety and warmth. The village beyond the forest barred its doors, fires lit, safe inside while the storm raged.
His thoughts soared, bursting into the moonlit landscape above the clouds. Laughing aloud, his spirit flew in wonder, heart aching at the beauty of the night. But something tugged at his heart, his name shouted on the wind. He blinked at tears, bringing the fire back into focus, the cabin solid around him. Night pressed on the shuttered windows. Something was in the night…
Luca’s heart leaped. He comes! A soft cry of joy escaped him, and he rose in one fluid motion to his feet. He’d sent Rhys away to find love elsewhere than in the arms of a lonely witch, and yet he came, daring the storm.
“Come to me,” he urged the solitary figure in his mind’s eye, struggling up the path to reach him. A tremor seized him. Long years of bartering his herbs and potions to the villagers had passed while he waited with hope and dread for Rhys’s return, darkness at his heels.
He crossed the wooden floor of the cabin, logs he’d hewn and planed himself, lighting the candles with a word as he passed, filling the room with light. Luka paused at the door, hand hesitant on the latch. He had enemies beyond this safe threshold. What if Rhys had gone to them in his bitterness and returned now for revenge? Luka closed his eyes, seeing again the pain on Rhys’s youthful face, the confusion in his eyes when Luka told him to go, and closed the door on his anguished pleas.
A rap on the door sent his pulse racing. Love and doubt warred inside him, but he had to know, see the truth of it. He opened the door a crack; icy wind whistled in. A figure stood on his step, the heavy cloak clutched against the cold obscuring his features. Who was this? He swung the door wider. The energy was all wrong. But Luka would welcome him in whatever guise he wore.
He opened his hungry arms, but Rhys shook his head and looked up, candlelight spilling on his pale face, grown older. “You sent me away—brokenhearted.” Rhys’s voice was deeper than he remembered. “If I cross this threshold, I won’t leave again. Be very sure.”
Luca trembled, searching the beloved features, and mourned the sweet innocence that was missing. Snow sifted through the trees adding to the weight on Rhys’s shoulders, and Luka swallowed his doubts. “Come inside.” He tugged on Rhys’s sleeve, unable to mask his eagerness. His heart stumbled, then leaped, seeing a flash of elation in Rhys’s eyes.
Rhys stepped into the cottage in a flurry of cold air and snow, and Luca hastily closed and latched the door behind him. He turned, and his lips parted in a startled gasp. Rhys had removed his cloak, snow already melting on the warm floor. His golden hair fell loosely to his shoulders, and his body filled out the tunic and trousers he wore in a way it hadn’t five years ago. He had grown into a handsome man, the fine wool of his clothing attesting he’d done well in the village.
Suddenly conscious of his frayed sleeves and ink-stained fingers, the silver now threading his dark braid of hair, Luka glanced away. His gaze fell on the books and parchment littering every surface, candle wax spilled on the tabletops. A thick layer of dust covered the bookshelves, except for the volumes he used for reference. He chewed a lip, troubled.
“Come to the fire,” he offered, taking Rhys’s cloak to hang on a peg. “There’s a stew simmering on the hearth.”
Rhys touched his shoulder, halting him. “A moment. I’ve come to warn you. Your old enemy—”
“Is coming. This I know. We’ll talk of it later. Please, come to the fire. You must be cold.”
“Luka.”
Luka swiveled sharply at the command in Rhys’s voice, a thrill rushing through him. So much courage from his once timid lover. Was this the same man he’d rescued? The young lad of seventeen years, chained and beaten in a dank cellar? Rhys wouldn’t speak of his parents back then, saying only he’d lived on the charity of others. Until he’d been snared, captive to a cruel man’s dark appetites.
Rhys’s soul had cried out in anguish from his prison, finding Luka’s heart, drawing him deep into the forest to the monster’s isolated hut. Luka had eluded the dark sorcerer, freeing the lad and taking him into his home. And later, into his bed, a moth to Rhys’s bright flame, his heart opened for the first time in uncounted years to love and promise.
He tucked a hand under Rhys’s elbow. “Come to the fire, dear heart. Let me see you in the light.” He dropped his gaze again, unaccountably shy. “I’ve missed you.”
Crimson loves to dance. He adores watching the pretty boys grind to the frantic beat of the music and picking out his lover for the evening. But more than that, he lives for his birthday, that one day a year he gives into his darker impulses: choosing a young man to lure into the alleyway with promises of sex, then slitting his throat in the midst of their passion and reveling in the hot blood on his hands.
For Tracey Winston, life has become a nightmare. Kidnapped from a nightclub in Boulder, Colorado, brutalized and raped by Crimson, he’s held captive in a cabin in the Rocky Mountains along with sweet Kyle, a young man Crimson keeps chained to his bed and is slowly torturing to death. Though Tracey manages to escape with Kyle’s help, he has to leave Kyle behind in Crimson’s cruel hands.
Detective Gene Mallory has never stopped looking for his brother Kyle, kidnapped from a nightclub seven months previously. The case breaks open when Tracey Winston comes forth at the urging of his new boyfriend, claiming to have knowledge of where Crimson is hiding out. A manhunt begins with Crimson continuously slipping through their net. Lives are on the line, with both Gene and Tracey being targeted by the killer. A traitor in their midst tips Crimson off to their plans.
Crimson’s birthday has come and gone, and he will kill again.
EXCERPT:
Gene stared at the golden-brown liquid swirling in the shot glass as the bartender filled it yet again. Maybe he’d had enough. God, he was tired. He rubbed his gritty eyes, the techno music blaring through the crowded room throbbing in his head.
He turned on the stool to the small dance floor and watched a young man gyrate to the pounding beat. Strobe lights caressed the man’s pale skin and dark clothing. The sleek body twirled with flowing, sensual movements. With a graceful twist, the guy’s black hair swept like silk across his white cheek. Achingly young and beautiful. Gene noted the men standing back, drinks in their hands, watching the dancers. His suspect could be any one of them. Or none.
He picked up the shot glass and held it up to the flashing lights. How many nightclubs exactly like this one had he been in these past six months? It felt like hundreds, with him no closer to finding Kyle’s abductor. If he’d even been kidnapped.
Gene put the glass to his lips and tossed back the whiskey, savored the burn in his throat. Most members of the police force believed Kyle had been bored with his life and simply walked away. He was nineteen, after all. Even Craig had backed off the search as more pressing cases took precedence.
But Kyle would never have done that. Gene knew his brother. Sweet and shy, Kyle would never have gone willingly with a stranger, without a word to his family, leaving his parents in this nightmare.
“But he never told you he was clubbing either,” Craig would remind him.
Gene set the glass on the sticky bar, and after a brief hesitation, motioned the bartender for another. It was Kyle’s birthday and maybe the alcohol, if only for a few hours, might numb the helpless certainty and horror that Kyle was held captive in some sadist’s basement. The fear of every cop in a kidnapping situation. Besides, he wasn’t on duty. Had never officially been on the case in the first place.
Leaving the new shot untouched, he swiveled back to the dance floor, allowing his gaze to wander the sea of young bodies writhing to the thumping music. Kyle had been in a gay bar like this one when he’d been taken, the couple of witnesses that came forward claiming he’d left with an older, hot as hell, dark haired man. But even that was sketchy. They’d all been drinking, after all.
He sat up as the young man who’d been dancing earlier caught his attention. The guy stood on the edge of the dance floor, his gaze fixed on a man leaning against one of the pillars staring back at him. Gene caught a glimpse of the man’s face, cold and beautiful, before the dancer stepped between them, swaying seductively toward him, clearly bent on arousing the man’s interest.
On instinct, Gene collected his credit card and moved to a spot along the wall where he could watch them. The older man kept his eyes on the dancer and, holding his gaze, reached down and stroked the bulge in his pants. Oh, he’s good, Gene thought. And he fit the description of Gene’s suspect. The young man’s eyes widened, startled, interested.
A new song erupted from the speakers and Gene pushed off the wall. The older man’s gaze flickered to him, returned. Gene knew he looked good, the tight jeans and cropped shirt clearly showing his intent for a hookup that evening. The dancer scowled as he came up to them but flounced away to join the crowd as the older man’s eyes slid appreciatively over Gene. He smiled a secret smile and motioned him closer, placing his hand on the small of Gene’s back. He leaned close to his ear to be heard over the pounding music. “I’m Crimson. Would you like a drink?”
Gene blinked at his name but nodded, and Crimson guided him to an empty table against the wall. Drinks appeared from the attentive waiter, a whiskey for Gene and something clear, probably vodka, for Crimson. Crimson slid a bill across the table and the waiter’s eyes widened at the amount.
Crimson scooted his chair closer to Gene, watched him indulgently while they sipped their drinks. “What is—”
No way would Gene give his name. Playing the game, he cut off his words with a kiss, tasting vodka and lime. Seeming caught off guard, Crimson moaned into his mouth, plunged his tongue in, the invasion tickling Gene’s gag reflex, but he managed to check it.
Crimson leaned back, biting gently on his bottom lip before releasing him. “Your name?”
Gene curled his lips into a lazy smile. “Does it matter?”
Crimson threaded his fingers through Gene’s dark hair and tugged it back, lowering his head to lick his neck, nuzzle an ear. “Want to get out of here?” he asked, nibbling along his jaw.
Gene met his gaze and suppressed a shudder when Crimson dropped his hand on Gene’s thigh. Taking a quick breath, he gave a soft moan. “Yes.”
Happy Holidays! My NICOLAS is on sale for $1.99, just in time for the season. Come meet Piter, my Krampus…
Piter’s voice rose to a shriek, his face blotched with fury. “You wanted to kill me! Murder me without remorse.” He pushed up from the couch and stood, a vengeful angel hiding its corruption in beauty. “You haven’t begun to suffer, Nico. I want you on your belly, sobbing for my mercy. And even then I’d spit on your pitiful soul.”
Piter lunged, grabbing Jamie’s chin, nearly crushing his jaw. The green jewels of Piter’s eyes gleamed with a wild light. “When you tire of chasing this stronzo, this piece of shit, come to me,” he commanded and crushed their lips together. The kiss lasted for seconds of pain and exquisite pleasure, then Piter let him go, and Jamie watched, dazed, as he swept out of the room with a mocking laugh.
Jamie giggled at the dramatic moment, overcome with confusion and fear. Nico sighed, head bent as he stared at his clasped hands. “I’m sorry, Jamie. I tried to shield you from him.” Jamie sat back in his chair and gave him a cool look. “Really? I thought you handed me over to him very nicely. Might as well have trussed me up with a ribbon on my c*ck for his pleasure.”
#krampus #MMromance #erotic #paranormal
Betrayed by a lover, Jamie rents an isolated cabin on Lake Huron, wanting only to be left alone. Instead, he is pulled from his solitary existence as an artist and tumbles headlong into the legend of Saint Nicolas.
As a young man, Nicolas accidentally killed a man intent on murdering three children, only to have the man’s malicious spirit rise up against him. Fleeing through the centuries from the Krampus, the evil troll-like creature that dogs his steps, Nico finds refuge with the young artist who takes him into his home and bed. But Jamie has questions. Who is Nicolas, and why does the Krampus want to destroy him?
When the Krampus begins to torment and torture anyone Nico comes in contact with to punish him, Jamie’s life is put in danger. And Jamie isn’t sure whether he can help Nico defeat his nemesis or if he’s merely a pawn in the Krampus’s game.
Dianne Hartsock 