BLOG TOUR: I Am Hope by Evelyn Shepherd



Gender Roles in Romance

            It’s 2015 and one major issue that still exists (on top of so many others) is gender role stereotypes. This is a problem in romance/erotica novels. Over the last year or so I’ve begun to notice a stigmization in the genre. You’re thinking it’s the female character, right? Wrong. It’s the male character that has been pigeonholed into a specific role. It doesn’t matter if it’s for m/f or m/m, there are specific arch types that male characters must be placed in, and if he deviates from that format, there’s a major issue.

In m/f romance, how often do we see the alpha male? It doesn’t matter if he’s in a kilt, slaying demons, or a powerful CEO. Whatever setting he’s in, he’s always a walking powerhouse of dominance. He’s never weak, never displays emotions beyond anger or lust, and while he may be sweet with the heroine, it’s a kind of tenderness that’s appropriate for an alpha male.

For m/m romance there are two roles to fill—the alpha male and what I’ll call the omega role (or the bottom). But even as the bottom, there is a certain masculinity that’s required, less the character tip too far into the feminine side.

These arch types are the idealized and over-sexualized roles the media has conditioned us to believe is appropriate. Male characters that break this mold are frowned upon. I think it’s time we change that. While writing I Am Hope, I didn’t want to define my characters by their gender roles. I wanted them to be human. They weren’t sequestered to the bottom or top, or even forced to alter their emotions to what society has deemed appropriate for a man.

I want to see more male characters that cry, who are weak, and break. I want to see strong male characters that aren’t afraid to fight and who make poor decisions. I want them to be real. I want female characters like this and I want male characters like this. I want to see the female character dominate the male character. I want to see the female character comfort the male character, who’s sobbing and wrecked. I want to read about unbridled laughter. I want to read about role reversal, when two male characters share the top and bottom position, depending on their mood. I want more gender fluid characters, non-gender characters, and characters who just don’t know what they are.

Too often we force our characters into two genders—male or female. And there’s so much more than that. Our characters are more than their genders, and I think it’s time that the media and publishing market start to realize that.


ES_IAmHopeTitle: I Am Hope

Series: The Meteora Trilogy

Author: Evelyn Shepherd

Publisher: Loose Id Publication

Cover Artist: Valerie Tibbs

Length: 70,000 words

Release Date: September 8, 2015

Blurb: The undead were only the beginning.

Topher, Jesse, and Sawyer thought their greatest threat were the Infected and Mutated that roam the world. As they struggle to reach the camp in Kill Devil Hills in North Carolina, they soon discover that the monstrous mutations of the undead are the least of their problems. Something else, something far more intelligent and lethal, is hunting them.

Topher knows that the only way humanity will survive is to find a cure for the strange infection that’s ravaged the world. He’s on the brink of discovering it; but the further his research goes, the more he realizes that curing the world of the infection may mean losing Sawyer.

The three will fight to stay together, and Topher will have to make the ultimate choice: cure the world or save his lover?


A scream broke through my dream. I groggily rolled over and burrowed into Sawyer’s chest. He mumbled something against the top of my head. Sleep lapped at my mind, holding me down. I dreamed of pleasant emptiness; I was in a void, where my brain could shut down. Warmth surrounded me, lulling me into a deeper slumber.

Another scream, louder. I opened my eyes, staring at Sawyer’s chest. Why was there screaming? Something was wrong. Something was horribly wrong.

“Jesse!” Chloe banged on the bifold bedroom door. “Get out here!”

Jesse jolted out of bed. He grabbed his pants and hastily pulled them on. As he jammed his feet into his boots, he ordered, “Get dressed.”

“What’s going on?” Sawyer asked. He climbed over the bed and found his own clothes.

I knuckled the sleep from my eyes and hurriedly dressed. Jesse was out the door by the time I pulled my shirt on. I followed him into the main compartment, Sawyer behind me. Rio sat on the couch next to Jaden, who was curled up with his blanket. On the table was a camping lamp, which filled the RV with yellow light.

“What’s going on?” I asked, straightening my shirt.

“Something is going down with Jane,” Rio said. “I heard it out in the truck.”


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Evelyn Shepherd lives in Columbus, Ohio with two fat cats. Her time is split between writing and running a book/writing blog. She’s the author of the Theo Bourne Series, the best-selling Last Canticle, and the award-winning Meteora Trilogy.

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BLOG TOUR: The Baker by Serena Yates



Title: The Baker

Series: Workplace Encounters

Author: Serena Yates

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press

Cover Artist: L.C. Chase

Length: 40000 words

Release Date: July 15, 2015

Blurb: Ian Wallace works as a baker for his tyrannical father in their family owned Scottish Bakehouse in Casper, Wyoming. He wants to represent the bakery in the upcoming Tartan Day competition, but his father refuses to reveal the secret ingredients that make them so successful—unless Ian gets married and has a son, proving he is fit to continue the family line.

Just before New Year’s Eve, Cameron Lewis, a former Marine turned police detective, comes into the bakery for donuts for his department and some black buns for himself. Cameron is hooked, and as his visits become more frequent, they stir Ian’s father’s suspicions. But threats can’t stop Ian from donning his kilt and entering the competition anyway—to show his father what he can do on his own. Though he might not have the secret ingredients, Ian and Cameron might still discover a recipe for happiness.


As soon as the waiter was gone, Ian leaned forward. “I’ve been dying to ask you if you’ve had a chance to try the black bun I gave you.”

“Yep, I have.” Cameron could still taste the flaky goodness of the pastry and the sweetness of the filling when he closed his eyes. “I’ll have you know I hid the box in the trunk of my car so it’d be safe from my

colleagues, but I managed to sneak a taste during my lunch break.”

“The other police officers would steal your food?” Ian shook his head, his lips twitching suspiciously. “And here I thought they’d all be upstanding members of the community. I am so disappointed.”

“They wouldn’t exactly steal the food.” Cameron smiled, loving how playful Ian turned out to be. “But they’d make a strong case for having me share, and I’d find it difficult to turn them down. Not with something as excellent as that black bun. The donuts were pretty outstanding, but the cake? Amazing.”

“So you liked it.” Ian nodded and sat back, more relaxed now. “Not everyone does, you know? The filling is pretty compact and, like much of Scottish baking, very sweet, so it’s not always received well.”

“If you ever have any leftovers, you now know where to send them!” Cameron winked.

“Oh, well, that’s good to know.” Ian smiled shyly and took a sip of his water. “So, did you manage to identify the ingredients in the filling?”

“I think so.” Cameron leaned back in his chair and focused on recalling what he’d tasted. “Other than flour, baking powder, milk, and egg, there were raisins, currants, some almonds, and chopped peel, I think. I suspect the presence of brown sugar, ginger, and cinnamon. And just to throw me off, there might have been some black pepper and a trace of either brandy or whisky, I’m not sure.”

“Wow, that’s pretty impressive.” Ian smiled. “I can see you’re not a detective in name only.”

“I got it right?” Cameron couldn’t believe it.

“Almost. The alcohol you tasted was whisky, the real Scottish kind, of course. It’s my personal variation, since most recipes say to use brandy. But there is one more ingredient nobody is even supposed to get, since it’s secret.” Ian had lowered his voice to almost a whisper.

“A secret ingredient?” Cameron made a show of checking if anyone could overhear them and leaned toward Ian. “Are you going to tell me?”

“If I did, I’d have to kill you.” Ian grinned.

“No!” Cameron laughed at the sneaky expression on Ian’s face. “But I got the rest right?”

“You did.” Ian nodded.

“Is there a prize?” Cameron knew what he wanted, but he had no idea how Ian would react.

“A prize?” Ian tilted his head in thought. “Possibly. I hadn’t thought about it yet. Is there anything you’re thinking of?”

“I am afraid so.” Cameron attempted to look serious.

“You’re afraid to tell me?” Ian frowned. “Why?”

“Because….” Cameron paused dramatically. “Because you might want to kill me if I did.”






I’m a night owl and start writing when everyone else in my time zone is asleep. I’ve loved reading all my life and spent most of my childhood with my nose buried in a book. Although I always wanted to be a writer, financial independence came first. Twenty-some years and a successful business career later I took some online writing classes and never looked back.

Living and working in seven countries has taught me that there’s more than one way to get things done. It has instilled tremendous respect for the many different cultures, beliefs, attitudes and preferences that exist on our planet.

I like exploring those differences in my stories, most of which happen to be romances. My characters have a tendency to want to do their own thing, so I often have to rein them back in. The one thing we all agree on is the desire for a happy ending.

I currently live in the United Kingdom, sharing my house with a vast collection of books. I like reading, traveling, spending time with my nieces and listening to classical music. I have a passion for science and learning new languages.

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Guest Post by V.L. Locey [Long Change Blog Tour]



My Top 3 Favorite Sports Movies

As a fan of sports, and hockey in particular, I enjoy nothing more than sitting down to watch a great sports film. Well, I enjoy a few other things more. *wink-nudge* Here are my three favorite sports films. What are yours? Tell me in the comments below!

Skate hard and love deeply,

V.L. Locey

1-Brian`s Song

No matter how often I see this classic I cry. Every. Single. Time.

2-Slap Shot

This is the funniest hockey movie ever in my opinion. And the strip tease at the end by Micheal Ontkean just makes a great film that much better!

3-The Longest Yard

The Burt Reynolds film, not the Adam Sandler remake. I recall seeing this when I was younger and I think it was what started me crushing on Burt Reynolds.


LongChange_MSRTitle: Long Change

Author: V.L. Locey

Publisher: Ellora`s Cave

Cover Artist: Allyse Leodra

Length: Novella

Release Date: 6/26/15

Blurb: Collegiate superstar goalie Boone Crockett seems to have the world at his feet. He’s rich, handsome, attends an elite college and is a hot prospect for the pros. Pity all that is a front for a deeply closeted and troubled young man.

All Boone’s life plans are shattered when flamboyant ex-figure skater Preston Gordon, an orange-haired twink, shows up to audition for the team’s mascot position wearing sequins, scarves and toe picks. His moves on the ice send Boone into his own pirouette of frustrated and reluctant desire.

As senior year progresses Boone slides deeper and deeper into a dangerous depression, Preston’s sensual strength the only thing he has to hold on to. If Boone can’t keep from plunging through the thin ice he’s skating on, it could take a twink to make the big save.

Reader Advisory: This story has graphic sexual language and scenes—no closed bedroom doors (or other rooms) here!


We stood side by side at the sliding door that looked out over a snow-covered campus. It was beautiful, untouched and pure. I was rather glad now that I hadn’t done the head in the stove thing. We talked between swallows, spoons hitting bowls the only noise aside from the heater coming on from time to time. I liked watching the way Preston’s hair fluttered around his face when hot air blew down from the vent directly above us. He handed me his empty bowl, then unlocked and opened the slider.

“Dude, heater’s on,” I pointed out. He crouched down. I inhaled. The air was brittle like a dead leaf and cold with a light scent of snow on pine. It was an odd sensation, the cold blowing in to blend with the warm cascading down from above. It wasn’t unpleasant at all. The patio was blanketed in four to five wet inches. Preston stood up. His head turned slowly. I looked over at him, a sated smile trying to curl the corners of my mouth. He was patting a perfectly formed snowball.

“Don’t even think about it you mother—”

Snow filled my mouth, nose and eyes. Preston shrieked. I sputtered, shaking snow out of my eyes, then dashed after him. He was fast and proved hard to get a hand on. After a few laps around the furniture in my living room, the dipshit ran out into the hall. I didn’t hesitate. I couldn’t. I had ice particles dangling from my eyelashes. Vengeance would be mine. We thundered down the steps, his high-pitched squeals of laughter and my warning growls seeming extra loud in the ghost town of a dorm building. The side exit flew open. I barreled out on his heels. The snow was freezing on my bare soles. Preston hissed a nasty curse when his naked tootsies hit the white stuff. He slowed just enough. I tackled him from behind. He went face first into the fresh fluff, all the air leaving his lungs with a loud “Oof!” when I landed on his back.

I clawed up a nice handful of snow as he frantically tried to free himself. I had him pinned, one arm picking up wet powder, the other holding his face into the drift. Wicked laughter boiled out of me when I shoved that snowball down his back. His scream was piercing. He kicked like a wild man, his arms flailing to the sides. I flopped down on him to ensure the snow was plastered to his back.

“Get off! Oh, fuck me, that is so cold! You asshole!” he shouted.

I stayed where I was, splayed over his back, my hand down the back of his shirt, chuckling steadily. I rolled off a moment later still bubbling with laughter. The sky overhead was filled with snow clouds. You know those huge white ones that blow over, drop some flakes, then continue on to let the sun shine down on the freshly carpeted world? Eyes closed, chest heaving, heart lighter than it had been in months, I spread my arms and legs out, inhaled the unique scents of winter and Preston and enjoyed the tickle of new snowflakes touching my cheeks.

“I hate you.”

I rolled my head in his direction and opened my eyes. “Really?”

His mouth rolled into a perfect pout. He was such a pretty thing, even with snow-frosted bangs.

“No,” he huffed as he dashed at the melting snow on his chin. “I should, though. That was heartless!”

“I’ll warm you back up if you want.” The offer slid out of me before I could stop it. A snowflake landed on the tip of Preston’s pixie-like nose. I so wanted to reach out, touch the perfect flake, dry his nose then pull him down for long, wet kiss. Instead I got to my bare feet, standing now in the shadow of the moisture-laden cloud overhead. “I didn’t mean to say that out here.”

“You can, you know,” he said, extending his hand to me. I looked around the quad, the creeping stink of worry now mucking up what had been a perfect moment. “You can say you want to warm me up, or that I have a cute ass, or anything else you want to say. Go ahead. Say it again.”

I shook my head as I hauled him to his feet. Damn, my feet were cold. I turned from him then walked inside, my head low, my mind filling up with concern over my stupid behavior. What the hell had I been thinking, chasing him outside then rolling around in the snow with him as if we were straight lovers.







Author PicV.L. Locey loves worn jeans, belly laughs, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order.) She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, two dogs, two cats, a flock of assorted goofy domestic fowl, and three Jersey steers.

When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand. She can also be found online on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and GoodReads.






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BLOG TOUR: Devil’s Food At Dusk by M.J. O’Shea and Anna Martin [Guest Post]

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Hi!! This is M.J. O’Shea 🙂

It’s a tradition for me when I’m setting up a book, to make a playlist for it. I’d imagine any of the people who’ve been reading my blog all along know that! I make them also for the books where I co-write. Sometimes, depending on the book, my coauthor and I make one together, but sometimes I just use it to guide myself for tone and style of the book and my coauthor doesn’t get involved in the music.

I don’t blame them, haha. I get a little bit obsessed with it for the first few days.

I figured, I’d share a few of the songs from my Devil’s Food at Dusk playlist. I wanted to mood of this book to be slow and warm, a little southern, and sexy. Kind of like New Orleans itself.

I don’t typically go for lyrics. Sometimes they fit, and sometimes they don’t. It’s more of a sound, a feeling, the way that I want the book to feel when readers open it and start reading.

First Song Augustana You Were Made For Me

Beck Dont Let it Go

The Civil Wars The One That Got Away

India Arie Video






Title: Devil’s Food At Dusk

Authors: M.J. O’Shea and Anna Martin

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press

Cover Artist: L.C. Chase

Length: 200 Pages

Release Date: June 22, 2015

Blurb: Joe Fitzgerald hates New Orleans, but he’s stuck there until he convinces one stubborn local family to sell Lumière, the crumbling French Quarter restaurant they’ve owned for generations. The place is a wreck, and it’s hemorrhaging money. Joe figures he’s their best chance for survival.

Remy Babineaux despises Pineapple Joe’s and everything the chain stands for. He refuses to let Lumière become some tacky corporate tourist trap. Theme drinks and plastic beads in his restaurant? Yeah, right. Over his dead, rotting corpse. The last thing Remy wants is a meeting with the restaurant chain’s representative, but his father agreed to at least listen to the proposal. There’s nothing Remy can do about it.

Remy figures an anonymous hookup is exactly what he needs to decompress. When he ends up across the table from his fling the next morning, real sparks fly. Joe refuses to give up his prime location; Remy refuses to give up his legacy. It’s war, and they’re both determined to win at any cost. Neither of them counted on falling in love.


Dawn always seemed to come a little later in the French Quarter, molasses-sweet and slow, still soft but with hints of the sticky heat to come. It spread, languorous, over the weathered painted walls and wrought-iron railings, crooked cobbly streets, and leaded glass windows that had seen hundreds of years of people passing by. Morning was quiet. Peaceful. Mellow.

Remy Babineaux had lived in the city all his life, in the same house on the same street covered by the same winding, purple-flowered bougainvillea vines and creeping ivy, but still, sometimes, in the pink blush of an unhurried morning, he was struck with just how much he loved it. How much he never wanted to live anywhere else.

He pulled his tired body out of bed in the barely there brush of light and stretched. He hadn’t slept much the night before—five hours at most—and he felt every one of his very busy, thirty years in his creaky muscles and sore back. It had been easier to get up with the morning sun when he was nineteen. To a point. Truthfully, Remy hadn’t ever been a morning person. He’d always preferred sleeping in to experiencing the unusual stillness that came in the Babineaux household hours before brothers and sisters, mother and father, and one rather eccentric grandmother started shouting and laughing and singing—and usually all at once. But he had to admit the morning was beautiful. And even if it wasn’t, he had fish to buy.

Next time I’m making Andre go so I can sleep in.

Remy knew that wasn’t true. He trusted his little brother with his life, but with the fish selection? Never. Nobody but him had had the coveted job of fish selection since he was a teenager. He pulled on a threadbare white henley and a pair of khakis that he didn’t mind getting fish juice on. Then Remy tugged his wavy hair into a thick, high bun, slipped into a pair of shoes, and was out the door. Time to greet the day with rack after rack of amazing, delicious, smelly fish.

Thursdays were usually the best day at the fish market. It was one of those things that had no logical explanation but a long history of somehow working out that way. The market was open three days a week, and he usually liked to make it to two of them, but Thursdays were for some unknown reason when the magic seemed to happen. He liked to get there early for the pick of the catfish, local trout, and sweet, tender gulf shrimp. Wandering through the fragrant stalls, which should be unpleasant but somehow smelled of home and happiness, was something of a Zen experience for him. One of the highlights of his week.

The market was crowded and loud, even in the bare light of early morning. Chefs and restaurant owners haggled with fishermen who’d become their friends over the years, laughed at well-worn jokes, argued the same arguments like a dance that had been practiced over time and perfected. The fish market was a tradition, and his city was nothing if not steeped in traditions.

Remy spent a few minutes soaking it all in, checking out what was new and interesting and delicious before he got down to business. It was important, he thought, to experience things, and not just go through his day completing tasks. His food was better if his feelings for the moment seeped into the dish. Made life better too if you asked him. His little sister, Grace, gave him shit for his “stop to smell the roses” way of looking at things. She was only fourteen, in a race to grow up and become something. Someday she’d understand that the becoming part was just as important as the getting there.

He stopped at a stand and stared down at piles of glossy pearly gray shrimp, barely touched with hints of blush pink. He’d steam them perhaps, on a base of pasta with clams and roasted vegetables, a little garlic, some cumin, cayenne, local butter, and a ton of French thyme. Remy could nearly taste the sauce exploding in his mouth—butter broth and seasonings and sweet, firm shrimp. Yes.

“Twenty pounds, Remy?”

“Hmm? Oh yes. Sure thing, Renee.” His favorite shrimp dealer knew him well. He could easily go through that much on a weeknight. Four times that on a busy weekend. Remy signed off on the purchase order. The shrimp would be delivered to his cafe, Lumiere, in a few hours with the rest of his purchases, just in time for him to start cooking.

Remy worked his way through the crawfish and catfish, the mussels and clams, smelling and sampling, weighing and ordering. It was his ritual. He never rushed it.

When Remy was nearly ready to call it a morning and head back home, his phone buzzed with a text from Andre, his little brother and one very pushy sous chef.

Don’t forget my halibut.

Remy made a face. The halibut at the fish market was good, but it was shipped all the way from the north Pacific on ice. He’d far rather use local catches to make his spin on traditional dishes, but sometimes Andre got his way. The halibut and chips was one of those times. Andre had tried it, fallen in love, and decided it should be a regular menu item at Lumiere, after a lot of protesting from Remy. It had become popular with the customers, much to Remy’s annoyance. He was even more annoyed by the fact that he liked it himself—especially with Andre’s signature tangy tartar sauce. Most of the time he pretended he didn’t, but Andre knew better and liked to flip him all sorts of shit for it.

I’m getting your damn halibut. Go back to bed.

All he got in return was a winky face and a string of fish emojis. Remy chuckled. Child.











Author PicI’m Mj O’Shea 🙂 I grew up, and still live, in sunny Washington state and while I love to visit other places, I can’t imagine calling anywhere else home.

I spent my childhood writing stories. Sometime in my early teens, the stories turned to romance. Most of those were about me, my friends, and our favorite movie and pop stars. Hopefully, I’ve come a long way since then.

When I’m not writing, I love to play the piano, dance, cook, paint pictures, and of course read! I like sparkly girly girl things, own at least twenty different colored headbands, and I have two little dogs who sit with me when I write. Sometimes they comes up with ideas for me too…when they’re not busy napping.







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AnnaMartin_APicAnna Martin is from a picturesque seaside village in the south west of England. After spending most of her childhood making up stories, she studied English Literature at university before attempting to turn her hand as a professional writer.

Apart from being physically dependent on her laptop, she is enthusiastic about writing and producing local grassroots theatre (especially at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, where she can be found every summer), travelling, learning to play the ukulele, and Ben & Jerry’s New York Super Fudge Chunk.

Although her most recent work is in the LGBT romance genre, in the past Anna has worked on a variety of different projects including short stories, drabbles, flash fiction, fan fiction, plays for both children and adults, and poetry. She has written novels in the Teen or Young Adult genre, Romance and Fantasy novels.

Anna is, by her own admission, almost unhealthily obsessed with books. The library she has amassed is both large and diverse; “My favourite books,” she says, “are ‘The Moonstone’ by Wilkie Collins, ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ by Harper Lee and ‘Oryx and Crake’ by Margaret Atwood.” She also owns multiple copies of Michael Crichton’s Jurassic Park books and re-reads the Harry Potter novels with almost startling regularity.








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BLOG TOUR: KAGE by Maris Black


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Author Name: Maris Black

Book Title: KAGE

Book Length: Full Length Novel (81,549 words)

Genre: Gay Romance, M/M

Book Release Date: 05/25/2015

Publisher: Maris Black Books

Cover Artist: Maris Black

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I wondered if this would be the death of me— getting fucked by Michael Kage. It was the most physically demanding thing I’d ever endured. Even the grueling sled drills I dreaded during our workouts paled in comparison. Kage stretched me, folded me, held me down. My muscles screamed for relief, and still I pleaded for him to fuck me harder. He had no qualms about obliging me, shuddering with pleasure as he used my body.

By the time he flipped me back over onto my back and drove his cock back into me, I was completely out of control. I’d never been so lost during sex. Every time before had been so conservative, so planned, so skilled. Using my expertise to get a girl off had been my thing. Not that I hadn’t truly enjoyed every minute of sex before, especially with Layla, but this was different.

This was straight-up animal fucking like I’d never experienced before. I had no idea what was going on half the time. At some point, when I’d ridden the edge of pleasure and pain for so long I couldn’t tell the difference anymore, Kage began to slow his rhythm, his thrusts becoming much more deliberate and thoughtful. Sweat dripped down his face and onto mine. A drop landed near my mouth, and I darted my tongue out to taste.

Kage grabbed the lube once more and squirted it into his right hand. Then he wrapped that hand around my erection. Then he lowered his body onto mine, trapping my dick and his hand between our sweaty bodies. He started kissing me passionately, making out with me, stealing my sanity. Loving me.

“Come on, baby,” he coaxed. “Come on.” Using his hand and our bellies, he massaged my cock in the most amazing way, and I found myself grinding my hips to get it just the way I wanted it, slipping around in the tight, lubed space until I was quivering for release. I was worn out, but still I pushed my tired muscles to strive for it.

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My name is Maris Black (sort of), and I’m a Southern Girl through and through.

In college, I majored in English and discovered the joys of creative writing and literary interpretation. After honing my skills discovering hidden meanings authors probably never intended, I collected my near-worthless English degree and got a job at a newspaper making minimum wage. But I soon had to admit that small town reporting was not going to pay the bills, so I went back to school and joined the medical field. Logical progression, right? But no matter what I did, my school notebooks and journals would not stop filling up with fiction. I was constantly plotting, constantly jotting prose, constantly casting the people I met as characters in the secret novels in my head.

Yep. I can blame my creative mother for that one!

When I finally started writing fiction for a living, I surprised myself with my choice of genre. I’d always known I wanted to write romance, but the first story that popped out was about a couple of guys finding love during a threesome with a woman. Then I wrote about more guys, and more guys, and more guys. I was never a reader of gay fiction, and I’d never planned to write it. The only excuse I have for myself is: Hey, it’s just what comes out!
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Author Spotlight: Mia Kerick [Giveaway]

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I am so pleased to have author Mia Kerick on my blog. She is here talking about her newest release ‘Inclination’ that released from “Young Dudes Publishing (Cool Dudes)” today! Read on as she shares some interesting stuff here and find the details of the giveaway contest soon at the end of this post 😀


Why is Anthony Del Vecchio of Inclination the perfect Young Adult literary hero?
by Mia Kerick



Ever since I was a teen, I enjoyed reading about the selfless, totally devoted and exquisitely tortured hero in adult romance novels. I really didn’t know much about Young Adult books then, so I scoured the library for adult books featuring these tormented men, who could be saved only by romantic love. It became easier to find these kinds of books when I could search for “books with tortured heroes” online. And back when I read just M/F romance, I only chose historical romances with seriously tortured male heroes. (There are a surprisingly large number of them.) Once I found M/M romance, I started to prefer contemporary romance. But still—I found plenty of tortured souls to fall in love with and root for!! LOL.


But a hero in a Young Adult book must be different… and more.

Anthony Duck-Young Del Vecchio of my new release Inclination, is the perfect Young Adult hero. First of all, he is a teenager. Anthony, a sixteen-year-old junior at Wedgewood High School, is the perfect age for a Young Adult main character. And Anthony has a conflict, which is also mandatory. I’m not talking about a minor, “something is troubling me” sort of problem, but a major “my life cannot go on until I figure this out” kind of conflict. Furthermore, all of the events that occur in Inclination revolve around Anthony’s struggle to resolve this conflict. Also necessary to Anthony’s heroic nature is that Inclination is told from the perspective of the actual boy who is enduring this struggle—it Anthony Del Vecchio’s first hand account of the pain and growth that comes from a major coming-of-age struggle. And in the manner I have always appreciated, Anthony is quite a tortured soul, but his struggle will lead to him to more than the satisfaction of romantic love—it will lead him to growing up.


Let’s look at the details.

In Inclination, Anthony has finally accepted what he has long suspected: he is gay. His sexual orientation provides the central conflict of the story, as Anthony soon learns that homosexual behaviour is not acceptable in the Catholic Church, to which he is devoted. He is forced to swallow the notion that if he lives his life as an actively gay man, in a committed same-sex relationship, he will be a sinner in the eyes of his church. He will be condemned. In the early stages of his struggle with this conflict, Anthony makes attempts to solve his problem by trying to “not be gay any more”—by attempting to change his sexuality and be heterosexual. Upon realizing that his attempts to change himself in this way are fruitless, his desperation in regard to the conflict increases, leading to huge challenges.



In the course of Anthony’s journey (that he describes in first person depth in Inclination by detailing his most personal thoughts and even his dreams) to decide what he should do in regard to his his sexual orientation, he must bare his soul in ways he had never before dreamed of. He suffers the cruelty of public isolation, the bitterness of bullying and prejudice, and the unpleasantness of self-disgust. In suffering these things, Anthony is forced to be visible when what he craves is anonymity. On the brighter side, though, this struggle opens Anthony’s eyes and heart to the abundant compassion coming from places he’d never before imagined—the Goth emo rebel he always kept his distance from and the lesbian outcasts who are obviously sinners and the Jewish kids who he had long thought “missed the boat” as far as religion goes. His struggle opens his eyes to people he has never before made an effort to see. Anthony’s shaky progress through his conflict is not merely about his survival, but is about him becoming a better person. A true Young Adult hero.


The conflict necessary to create the coming-of-age types of changes in Anthony could come in many forms. It could be through a struggle to make a certain sports team or to survive a battle or to win a bet. However, Anthony’s conflict reflects who he is: a devout teenager who desires to live his life in a manner that pleases God. Through his struggle to determine if he can be both actively gay and pious, he faces more than just a question of right and wrong in regard to his sexuality. He faces who he has been and considers who he wants to be, and finds the maturity and wisdom to make very difficult decisions. Anthony sets new priorities as a thoughtful young man, and no longer as an obedient child. He finds the Grace to trust in himself and in his friends and in the God he knows. Over the course of this struggle, Anthony grows up.




Sixteen-year-old Anthony Duck-Young Del Vecchio is a nice Catholic boy with a very big problem. It’s not the challenge of fitting in as the lone adopted South Korean in a close-knit family of Italian-Americans. Nor is it being the one introverted son in a family jam-packed with gregarious daughters. Anthony’s problem is far more serious—he is the only gay kid in Our Way, his church’s youth group. As a high school junior, Anthony has finally come to accept his sexual orientation, but he struggles to determine if a gay man can live as a faithful Christian. And as he faces his dilemma, there are complications. After confiding his gayness to his intolerant adult youth group leader, he’s asked to find a new organization with which to worship. He’s beaten up in the church parking lot by a fanatical teen. His former best pal bullies him in the locker room. His Catholic friends even stage an intervention to lead him back to the “right path.” Meanwhile, Anthony develops romantic feelings for David Gandy, an emo, out and proud junior at his high school, who seems to have all the answers about how someone can be gay and Christian, too.

Will Anthony be able to balance his family, friends and new feelings for David with his changing beliefs about his faith so he can live a satisfying life and not risk his soul in the process?




Mia Kerick is the mother of four exceptional children—all named after saints—and five nonpedigreed cats—all named after the next best thing to saints, Boston Red Sox players. Her husband of twenty-two years has been told by many that he has the patience of Job, but don’t ask Mia about that, as it is a sensitive subject.

Mia focuses her stories on the emotional growth of troubled young people and their relationships, and she believes that physical intimacy has a place in a love story, but not until it is firmly established as a love story. As a teen, Mia filled spiral-bound notebooks with romantic tales of tortured heroes (most of whom happened to strongly resemble lead vocalists of 1980s big-hair bands) and stuffed them under her mattress for safekeeping. She is thankful to Dreamspinner Press, Harmony Ink Press, and CreateSpace for providing her with alternate places to stash her stories.

Mia is a social liberal and cheers for each and every victory made in the name of human rights, especially marital equality. Her only major regret: never having taken typing or computer class in school, destining her to a life consumed with two-fingered pecking and constant prayer to the Gods of Technology.


Giveaway Details

Leave a comment and get a chance to win a free e-copy of Inclination!!


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Cover Reveal & Giveaway: Anthony & Leo by Sue Brown


TITLE: Anthony & Leo

SERIES: Frankie’s – Book Three

AUTHOR: Sue Brown

PUBLISHER: Dreamspinner Press

LENGTH: 30000 words approx..

COVER ARTIST: Paul Richmond

RELEASE DATE: March 25, 2015

BLURB: Watching Marchant train his new sub leaves Tony unhappy at not having found a Dom of his own. Running Marchant’s BDSM club, Tony sees who the Doms prefer and it isn’t him—too big, too old, and too hairy. When his friend Jordan suggests he look outside the club, Tony’s mind turns to Leo, a man he met in a traffic jam. Tony manages to arrange a date and happily learns Leo is funny, very toppy, and not adverse to Tony’s lifestyle. As a bonus, Leo sells sex toys. When tragedy strikes the club, Tony fears he can’t help the mourning club members, but Leo offers his unwavering support. After such a tough start, Tony believes Leo is the Dom he’s been looking for, until he catches him kissing another man.




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Sue Brown is owned by her dog and two children. When she isn’t following their orders, she can be found plotting at her laptop. In fact she hides so she can plot and has gotten expert at ignoring the orders.

Sue discovered M/M erotica at the time she woke up to find two men kissing on her favorite television series. The series was boring; the kissing was not. She may be late to the party, but she’s made up for it since, writing fan fiction until she was brave enough to venture out into the world of original fiction.


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