Release Blitz - Sweet as Pie by Beth Bolden

 

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Sweet as Pie

Author and Publisher: Beth Bolden

Cover Artist: Morningstar Ashley Designs

Release Date: April 13, 2023

Genre: Contemporary MM romance

Tropes: Grumpy/sunshine, opposites attract, small town

Themes: Family responsibilities, necessary change, unexpected love

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 80 000 words

It is a standalone story.

Goodreads

Buy Links - Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon  UK 

Blurb

Luca Moretti is grumpy—and he wouldn't have it any other way.

Wrangling six—Italian—siblings and the family's restaurants would make anyone cranky. But when his mother requests that he save his aunt’s struggling Italian deli in charming, picturesque Indigo Bay, he has no idea that he's about to overdose on sweetness.

Luca expected his aunt’s stubbornness—she’s a Moretti, isn’t she?—and his cousin’s resistance to actual work, but the last thing he expected is the absolute ball of sunshine known as Oliver Billings.

Oliver loves Indigo Bay. Loves owning his small artisan bakery, Sweetie Pie’s. Helps nice old ladies cross the street. Even volunteers for the local Sweethearts Festival.

Sweet isn't really Luca's style, or so he thinks. But when he discovers Oliver can be a little spicy too, his prickly exterior begins to crumble like a well-baked crust.

If Luca isn't careful, he's going to develop a taste for sweets—and a particular baker’s pie.

And one or two servings will never be enough.

My Two Pennies' Worth

Sweet, well, as pie.

This book was lovely. It feels like an opposites attract, grumpyxsunshine at the start but as Oliver and the town work their magic on Luca the true man appears. Hidden under years and years of family responsibilities Luca is ultimately a caring, hardworking individual who once made a promise to a woman he adored and put that promise above everything, including his own happiness.

Thoroughly enjoyed this. It’s loosely connected to this author’s series about Food Trucks and some characters from that series make an appearance but there is no requirement to have read those books.

Not one to read when you’re hungry. Oliver’s bakes made me crave a decent independent bakery in town.

Excerpt 

“Ah, they sent the fixer out.” Oliver sounded amused again. “I can see it. You’re definitely more of a fixer than a baker.”

Luca shrugged. “I run my family’s four restaurants. They do not typically need fixing.” Don’t be arrogant, don’t be arrogant. “But Nonna’s Deli here, it is . . .an investment of ours. Not directly under my control. So I’m not here to order changes but to . . .suggest them. Nicely.”

“Which is how they’ve managed to underperform all these years,” Oliver said with another of those smirks. They shouldn’t have been so frustratingly attractive. But Luca felt them deep down, stirring him up in a way he hadn’t expected.

Oliver was definitely a very attractive package, one he’d love to unwrap.

Would he be as sweet as promised? Or a little salty too? Maybe even a bit spicy?

“You could say that,” Luca said. “Part of the proposed changes are aligning the menu more directly with our other restaurants. And that includes fresh bread, daily. Nonna’s here doesn’t have the staff, the resources, or the equipment to do this, but you do.”

“I do,” Oliver conceded. “My schedule’s already pretty packed, but I suppose I could fit you in. French bread? Sourdough bread? Focaccia? Rolls? Loaves? How many dozen per day?”

Luca liked every part of Oliver he’d seen so far. He was charming and sweet and undeniably adorable. Then there was how goddamned sexy he was when he got down to business.

“I’m not sure yet,” Luca said. “In fact, they may not need any at all. Giana and Enzo have my proposed changes, but they are not required to accept all of them—or any of them, actually.”

“You must hate that, not being able to actually impose your control over them.” Oliver said it casually, like a true control-freak business owner, like he understood.

How did Oliver know how much he hated it? Was it that obvious? Was it written all over his face that he’d love nothing more than to march down the street and tell Giana and Enzo exactly what to do?

“Yes,” Luca admitted.

“Nonna’s isn’t just an Italian affectation, is it? Was there actually a Nonna?” Oliver asked.

“My grandmother.”

“Ah, well, there you go.” Oliver leaned back, grinning. Luca wanted to chase him, but he stayed on his side of the table, with what he thought was pretty admirable restraint.

“So why does Enzo dislike you so much?” Luca asked.

“That’s a long story. And I’ve got to tend to these rolls. If they overproof . . .” Oliver shrugged. “I’m a perfectionist, what can I say?”

“If he supposedly turns against you every chance he gets, what’s he going to say,” Luca said, deploying the most persuasive smile in his arsenal, “when he finds out I want to hire you to bake our bread? I need the insider info. Need to be able to convince him it’s a good idea.”

“It’s not going to help you, and you’re not going to like it,” Oliver said. “Though, you sorta look like there’s plenty of things you don’t like.”

But I like you. “You’re not wrong.” It was hard to admit it, but there it was. He was particular, okay? Particular and more than a little arrogant about his particularity.

Maybe it was good Oliver knew that now, even if all they ever had was a date and a night—though even that was still up in the air.

“We dated,” Oliver said. His watch beeped, and he stood, just as he’d left Luca speechless for another long moment. “Well,” he amended, with a cute little shrug. “It was one date. But still. He wanted to continue. I did not. And that’s the story.”

“That wasn’t a very long story,” Luca managed, and was he trailing after Oliver in his own bakery like a lost puppy looking for his owner? Yes, he was, a little.

About the Author 

A lifelong Pacific Northwester, Beth Bolden has just recently moved to North Carolina with her supportive husband. Beth still believes in Keeping Portland Weird, and intends to be just as weird in Raleigh.

Beth has been writing practically since she learned the alphabet. Unfortunately, her first foray into novel writing, titled Big Bear with Sparkly Earrings, wasn’t a bestseller, but hope springs eternal. She has published over forty novels and novellas.

Author Links

Blog/Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter  |   BookBub

Instagram  |  Newsletter Sign-up

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Release Blitz - How to Love Thine Enemy by Eli Easton

Release Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway:
How to Love Thine Enemy
By Eli Easton

Can a forbidden love heal the rift between two enemy tribes?

Legend says that, centuries ago, the sled dogs and the Inuit were so deeply bonded that the dogs rose up on two legs and became men. The Qimmig and the People lived together happily until one of the Inuit betrayed the dog-men. The Qimmig fled, vowing never to return.

Taq figured that was just another story elders told around the campfire. But when he witnesses two guys survive a polar bear attack by shifting into dogs, he has to rethink everything. Could the Qimmig really exist? And could they have anything to do with the special, golden-eyed boy he’d played with as a child?

Cupun has missed his old friend, Taq. But it is forbidden for the Qimmig to have anything to do with one-skinned Inupiat. When a series of events brings Taq back into his life, the feelings of protectiveness and joy awakened in his dog’s heart tell him that Taq is his soul’s mate.

But neither the Qimmig nor the Inuit are prepared to accept this bond. Are the boys fated for tragedy? Or will their love find a way?

How to Love Thine Enemy is a star-crossed lovers/Romeo and Juliet trope set in Alaska. Friends-to-lovers, doggie shifters, and destined romance with a little wilderness adventure.

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Check out the Series on Goodreads

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Excerpt:

HOW TO LOVE THINE EMENY (Howl At The Moon book 6)

By Eli Easton

Anka brought out three mugs of tea and a plate of hard-ass cookies. She set them on the coffee table. Hanta and Taq ate one cookie each, for politeness’s sake. In their village, people did not appreciate rushing into things, so they talked about the weather, and the book exchange, which Anka was super invested in. She told them about the books she’d gotten from there for, like, the past ten years. Finally, she put them out of their misery and started the conversation they’d come here to have.

“I was a young bride,” she said, cradling her mug between her hands. “It was a nice day, so I did the washing and hung everything up outside to dry.”

Hanta and Taq shared a look, wondering if this was some random memory.

“When I got back from visiting my ananna, I could see, as I approached the house, that the clotheslines were empty. Completely empty. Not a stitch! My first thought was that my husband, Wes, had taken things down, and wasn’t that considerate?” She laughed. “I told you: I was a new bride. If you’d known my late husband, you’d know how unlikely that was.”

She shook her head, a look of surprise on her face, as if it had just happened. “I looked all around. The side yard. Inside the house. Even in the trash can. But the clothes were gone.”

“It was the Qimmiq?” Taq broke in, too excited to wait.

She made a face. “Yes. But I didn’t know that at the time. Not until I talked to my neighbor. You see, when I lived with my mother and father, we were in the middle of the village, and we’d never had our clothes stolen like that. So it was a shock to me.” She sipped her tea.

“My husband was angry at them. But me, I was more curious. The load of clothes they took had all been mine. Why did they take my things? I wondered: was there some girl in their community who was my size, and who needed things to wear? I had a picture of her in my mind, you know? Living in the mountains like they do, with next to nothing. I felt sorry for her.”

Anka picked up a cookie and chewed thoughtfully.

“Yeah,” Hanta said. “I can see that. It’s a lot less cute when they steal ATVs.”

She ignored him. “I decided, instead of them stealing my things, I should just give clothes to them. That way, I could feel better thinking about that girl. And maybe they would leave my favorite clothes alone.

“So I found some things I didn’t wear anymore. And I went around and asked others in the village too. I made a bag for her. I put it out with a note. A few days later, the bag was gone.” She shrugged. “I’ve been doing it ever since.”

Anka looked to be in her 60s. If she’d been a young bride when she’d started, that was a long-ass time. Taq thought he knew everything that went on in the village. But clearly, he did not. He wondered if Grammy knew. And, if she did, what she thought about it.

“How often do you put stuff out?” Taq asked.

“When I can. A few times a year. They only come at certain times, you know. In the spring, when they can first get down from the mountains after the snow. And in the fall, to store up for winter.”

“Do you know where they live?” Hanta asked. “Their village or cabin or whatever? Where is it?"

Anka gave him a wary look. "No. I don't know. Why are you two so interested in the Qimmiq, anyway? Did they take something of yours? You won't get it back, you know."

“Just curious," Hanta said in a voice that was too dismissive. He was a shitty liar.

Anka grunted. "They haven't touched the things I left for them this spring. Or last fall either. I don't think they've been around." She looked off into the distance. "I worry about them. Something's changed, but I don't know what."

"You mean besides them? Changing, I mean," Taq said. Subtlety was not his strong suit.

Anka gave him a shrewd look—like she knew everything and Taq knew nothing. "You've got secrets, Taq Geela."

A little shock went through him. Not because she knew his name. It was a small enough village that everyone knew everyone. But for a moment, an illogical side of his brain thought she meant that secret. The one not even Hanta knew. But, of course, she was talking about the Qimmiq.

Taq looked at Hanta and he gave a little nod. Then he nudged Taq with his elbow for good measure. Go on. Tell her.

Taq cleared his throat. "So, you know the legend of the Qimmiq? The dogs that once lived with the people and were able to change into humans? Well… I saw it today. This morning. I saw two guys shift into dogs down at the fjord."

Anka studied him with a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. He waited, not saying more.

She reached out and patted his hand. "Thank God. It was getting tiresome being the only one who knew."

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Enter the Giveaway:

To celebrate the release of The Best Gift, Eli's giving you a chance to win a $20 Amazon Gift Card & an e-set of the whole Howl at the Moon Series so far!

Enter through the rafflecopter below!

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About the Author:

Coming from a background in computer game design, Eli has written over 50 books in m/m romance since 2013. The Mating of Michael (2014) and A Second Harvest (2016) both won The William Neale Award for Best Gay Contemporary Romance, and Eli’s books have won many awards from the Goodreads M/M Romance Group’s Reader’s Choice Awards. She is best known for her Christmas romances, the Howl at the Moon series of rom coms featuring dog shifters, and the Nerds Vs Jocks series, co-written with Tara Lain.

Connect with Eli:
www.elieaston.com
Facebook: Eli Easton
Facebook group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/164054884188096
Twitter: @elieaston

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Series tour - Road Rules by Brigham Vaughn

 

Blog Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway:
Road Rules
By Brigham Vaughn

Rules of the Game, Book 1

Rule #1: Hockey Comes First

As NHL team captain, Zane Murphy’s goal for the upcoming season is simple: take the Evanston River Otters all the way to the Stanley Cup.

Rule #2: Only On the Road

But an unexpectedly hot night with his best friend and teammate Ryan Hartinger throws Zane’s carefully laid plans and his sexuality into disarray.

Rule #3: Don’t Fall in Love with Your Best Friend

When feelings begin to creep in, Zane will have to decide if he’s willing to throw out the rules and risk his career and his friendship for a chance at winning it all.

Universal Link

Add to Goodreads

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Excerpt:

“That was a sick goal at the end of the second period, man.”

Zane Murphy looked away from the NHL game on the TV screen to smile at his new road roommate. “Thanks. Your pass was a beauty.”

“I’ve gotcha tape to tape, my dude. Tape to tape.”

Zane gave him an amused glance. He still wasn’t sure what to make of Ryan Hartinger.

They were only a few weeks into the season and Ryan was a freshman player. He was a solid winger and a great locker-room guy. He had an infectious energy on and off the ice and so far, Zane was pretty pleased to have him as a liney.

He was a little less sure how he felt about rooming with him on the road though.

Ryan reminded him of a not-very-well-trained golden retriever.

And he talked. A lot.

“Keep it up and hopefully we’ll have a better season this year than last,” Zane said with a sigh as he glanced back at the Boston vs. Dallas game.

Last season, the University of Michigan’s ice hockey team had been knocked out of the Frozen Four in the first round to a school that shouldn’t have been able to beat them. It still stung.

If only he’d gotten that last goal in the net instead of the puck bouncing off the post like that …

“If we keep it up, maybe someday we’ll be playing there,” Ryan said, nodding at the TV.

“God, I hope so.” Zane didn’t even try to hide the longing in his voice.

“Hey, you’ve already been drafted by the Otters. You’ve got a great shot at it.”

Zane settled back against the headboard of the hotel room bed, trying to push down the warm glow that settled in his chest at the thought of his draft day last summer. The Otters were a newer NHL expansion team in the Chicago Illinois area and Zane was itching to play for them.

He’d been watching Anders Lindholm—their top line center—burn up the league for years with Boston and a shot at playing on a team with him was everything.

Some guys Zane knew had called him crazy for planning to finish his degree first but his parents were pretty strongly in favor of him earning one in case the NHL didn’t work out, and Zane understood that.

Besides, U of M’s team was so fucking good. Zane had gotten a ton of experience, dialed in his game, and felt much more seasoned as a player than he had a few years ago. And he was looking forward to another shot at the college hockey championship this year.

It meant he’d probably have to spend less time bouncing between the Otters and their AHL affiliate. He hoped so anyway.

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Enter the Giveaway:

To celebrate the release of Road Rules, Brigham is giveaway away a $15 Amazon Voucher!

Enter the Rafflecopter giveaway for your chance to win!

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About the Author:

Brigham Vaughn is on the adventure of a lifetime as a full-time author. She devours books at an alarming rate and hasn’t let her short arms and long torso stop her from doing yoga. She makes a killer key lime pie, hates green peppers, and loves wine tasting tours. A collector of vintage Nancy Drew books and green glassware, she enjoys poking around in antique shops and refinishing thrift store furniture. An avid photographer, she dreams of traveling the world and she can’t wait to discover everything else life has to offer her.

Her books range from short stories to novellas to novels. They explore gay, bisexual, lesbian, and polyamorous romance in contemporary settings. Pronouns: she/her

Connect with Brigham:

Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/brighamvaughn

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Blog Tour - Molly Boys by Vawn Cassidy

 

Blog Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway:
Molly Boys
By Vawn Cassidy

London Underside, Book 1

London 1883:

For Lord Everett Stanley, escaping his fate seemed impossible. As the second son, he’s destined for ordination and the life of a priest, but he’s hiding a dangerous secret. The laws punishing homosexuality by hanging may have been repealed but he and others of his kind are far from safe. Given no other choice, they take solace in the underground molly houses of London. Now that fragile world is threatened when the East End is rocked by a series of gruesome murders.

Inspector Archibald Franklin worked hard to overcome his working-class roots, making a name for himself as a respected inspector of Whitechapel’s H Division, but when he begins to investigate the deaths of several beautiful young men, fate throws him into the path of the handsome and enigmatic Lord Stanley. His gut instinct tells him the young lord knows more about the murders than he lets on, but the closer he gets, the more Everett calls to him in a way he’s tried to deny his whole life.

As a reign of terror grips London, they are drawn together in order to stop a monster, but for Archie, the growing feelings he has for Everett are a betrayal of the very laws he has sworn to uphold. And as the killer closes in, the two men find themselves bound together by a passion that may be their ultimate salvation or their utter destruction…

Universal Link

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Excerpt:

The streets were still dark as Charlie left the house in Islington. The first pale strains of pre-dawn would soon illuminate the grimy streets with an eerie glow, but for the moment there was a peaceful stillness, almost as if the world were holding its breath.

Waiting…

His arse ached pleasantly with every step, and his well-used cock was sore against the rough material of his trousers. The hour was late by the time the Colonel had finished with him. Not that Charlie was complaining, he always enjoyed his time with the vigorous older man. The colonel was a rough but generous lover.

In fact, he’d enjoyed himself so thoroughly he’d missed the last tram back and there was no chance of him reaching his lodgings before they locked the doors. With no alternative available, he’d spent a few hours kipping on a chaise in the parlour, knowing that his lordship wouldn’t mind. It was why Lord Francis had purchased the house in Islington, so boys like him would have a safe place to indulge without risking trawling through Hyde Park. They weren’t prostitutes by any means, most of the young men such as himself were gainfully employed elsewhere.

His Lordship gave them a place to indulge their needs and no money ever changed hands, unlike some of the other Molly houses in London. The house in Islington was one of the safer places he knew of, with entry by invitation only. It minimised the risk, but they still had to be careful. The magistrates may have stopped hanging his kind but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t serve hard time if he was caught by the peelers.

He pulled his collar tight. The damp chill of the early hours seemed to sink right into his bones, causing him to shudder. Hurrying down the narrow misty street, he felt another shiver skitter down his spine on sly, spindly fingers– only this time, it wasn’t from the cold.

He stopped and turned back to look, certain someone was following him. His eyes narrowed but all he could see was the foggy, dim street behind him. With a small frown, he turned and hurried on; he didn’t have the time to dawdle as he had a fair distance to cover before dawn. The trams wouldn’t be running this early and his employer would not take kindly to his late arrival.

Focusing on the uneven cobbles beneath his feet, he turned down a darkened alley. There was more than a bite to the air, which probably meant snow before long. His fingers were already stiffening as he clutched the collar of his coat to ward off the cold.

He reached the end of the alley and turned, drawing up short when he found an abandoned hand-drawn cart. Frowning, Charlie glanced around, unable to see anyone as another bank of low-lying fog rolled across the road. Approaching the cart cautiously, he peered into the back and, to his confusion, saw a fair-sized crate, open and lined with hay, the lid propped against its side. Beside it was a small hammer and a pile of iron nails.

Deciding it was none of his business, he turned sharply and found himself colliding with a heavy chest. Charlie stumbled back a pace, his gaze skimming the man he’d collided with. He was a giant, standing almost two heads taller than Charlie, with shoulders so wide, Charlie doubted he’d be able to fit through a doorway without turning sideways. His hands were huge, his fingers thick and his knuckles dusted with wiry black hair.

Charlie’s gaze was drawn slowly upwards, past the man’s worn woollen coat to his thick neck, a jaw covered with a coarse, dark stubble, and lips set in a thin line. The rest of his face was cast into shadow by the brim of his shabby bowler hat.

“Pardon me, sir,” Charlie muttered as he attempted to step around the huge fellow.

The stranger simply stepped with him and continued to block his path. A small flutter of panic beat against Charlie’s ribs as he sucked in a breath and attempted to step to the opposite side, but once again the silent and unnerving giant moved into his path.

“Sir.” Charlie squared his narrow shoulders, holding his spine ramrod straight so as not to betray his unease. “Please stand aside.”

The man did not move, nor did he speak. Charlie felt cold fear trickle down his spine, as if he’d been doused by icy shards of winter rain.

“Shall I call out for the constable? I passed one not one street back and he was heading in this direction,” he lied, trying to present a confidence and authority he did not have.

For a second, they stood together, locked in silence. Then, just when Charlie was contemplating making a run for it, the giant stepped aside. Swallowing, he gave the man a curt nod and moved past. He barely got two steps away when he felt one of those huge arms wrap around him, pinning his arms to his sides. He struggled and cried out as a cloth was pressed over his mouth, muffling his frantic yell for help. A cloying scent filled his nose and mouth. The world around him began to spin and the cobbles tilted beneath his feet. His eyes rolled back in his head and his body went limp as everything turned black.

He didn’t feel a thing as he was picked up like a rag doll, nor did he stir when his slight frame was tucked into the crate. He didn’t register the lid lowering nor the ominous knocking as the nails sealed it shut.

In fact, there was no one, as the first pale rays of dawn began to break through the fog, to notice the enormous brute of a man slinging the leather strap over his wide shoulders and picking up the handles to drag the small cart behind him down the empty street in silence.

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Enter the Giveaway:

To celebrate the release of Molly Boys, Vawn is giving away a Signed Paperback and swag pack!

Enter the Rafflecopter giveaway for your chance to win!

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About the Author:

Vawn Cassidy is the MM pen name of British author Wendy Saunders, as Vawn she writes contemporary and paranormal MM romance. She has a deep love of history and the supernatural. Inspired by the Victorian era and classic gothic literature, it has been a real labor of love for her to create an LGBTQ+ gothic romance series.

Connect with Vawn:
www.vawncassidy.com
www.facebook.com/vawncassidyauthor
www.facebook.com/groups/cassidysbayboys
www.instagram.com/vawncassidyauthor
www.twitter.com/vawncassidy
www.goodreads.com/author/show/21646925.Vawn_Cassidy

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Release Blitz and review - Hiding Place by Jackie Keswick

 

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Hiding Place

Author and Publisher: Jackie Keswick

Cover Artist: Avery Daisy Book Design

Release Date: March 31, 2023

Genre: Contemporary M/M Mystery Romance

Tropes: Opposites attract, hurt/comfort, murder mystery

Themes: grief recovery, letting go and starting over

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length: 43 000 words

It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links

Universal Link  |  Author's Website

Can a house with a secret bring two grieving men together?

Blurb

Can a house with a secret bring two grieving men together?

After losing his bandmates in an accident, songwriter Zach Hellig looks for a place to hide and a distraction from his grief. He finds both in a dilapidated Pele tower in a corner of Northumberland and in a sexy neighbour, whose smooth facade hides an old, painful secret that appears to be tied to Zach’s new home.

Are the rumours of an unsolved murder the reason for Robert Ludlow’s reluctance to sell Charnbarrow Pele?

Should Zach try to find answers to a thirty-seven-year-old mystery?

And having just experienced the pain of loss, should he risk his heart for a man who struggles to come to terms with his past?

A 43k m/m mystery romance, featuring a neglected old house in need of TLC, an unsolved murder, a grieving musician looking for a distraction, and his stern, intense neighbour who really should smile more.

My Two Pennies' Worth 

Lovely. Slightly melancholy and beautifully lyrical. The bleak Northumberland landscape reflected the guilt and grief consuming both MCs, but it's an optimistic love story and as the mystery of the murder is revealed so both Zach and Robert start to heal.

Told from Zach’s pov but it’s Robert who stole my heart.

Excerpt 

“Whoever said that house hunting was fun can’t have done that much of it,” I muttered as another stack of envelopes from my property search agent flopped onto my doormat. Paper slid over paper with a soft whoosh like messages skating in freeform. “Unless it’s the hunting they enjoy, and never mind if they find a house or not.” That’s where we differed, I supposed. I wanted to find a house, not spend my time hunting for one.

Cradling the stack of clammy envelopes I returned to the living room, where property particulars covered the surface of my dining table, neatly sorted into ‘absolutely-not’, ‘no’, and ‘maybe’ stacks. An empty space, the space for the ‘yes’ pile of particulars, glared accusingly from the centre of the table.

Maybe the house I was looking for didn’t exist.

Or it existed only in my mind. 

Ever since the night the police had knocked on my door, I’d yearned for a hiding place. Somewhere nobody offered sympathy or told me what I should do next. Where I didn’t have to put on a brave face and be Halcyon songwriter and keyboard player Zach Hellig. 

I yearned for a place where I could grieve in private. 

There was no such place, of course.

The paparazzi found me sooner or later. As did the fans, though—to my surprise—they’d proved unexpectedly compassionate after that first insane outpouring of grief. 

Many expressed the wish I would continue writing the music they had loved us for. Or that I’d start over with a new band. I had no answers to give them, but as I started to process the aftermath of the accident, my need for a place to grieve had turned into a wish to rebuild my life in a shape and form it hadn’t had before.

I’d dissolved my contract and had set about finding a house for myself. 

My requirements had seemed simple: a house with a largish garden in a remote location, maybe in need of renovation. I hadn’t expected this to be a challenging brief for any self-respecting property search agent.

Apparently, it was. 

In the last four months, I’d seen a score of houses all over the country. On the surface, they all fulfilled my requirements. I just couldn’t imagine myself living in any of them.

“This lot won’t make a difference either.” I settled in the armchair under the window, envelopes in my lap. The agent could have emailed me the particulars, just as I could have spent my days on the various property sites, hunting for suitable houses myself.

It wasn’t how my mind worked, though. I wanted the madness in my life to slow down and I was hoping that doing things the old-fashioned way—hiring an agent to help me find a suitable house and scrutinising potential homes on paper—would help me do that. 

Or, as my counsellor had suggested, I was avoiding both people and the internet.

I picked up the first envelope and felt a tiny spark of something bright in the back of my mind. A promise? A touch of hope?

One after the other, I opened the envelopes and scrutinised the contents. One after the other, the sheets fluttered to the floor.

Until the last of the offered properties had me sitting up in my chair.

The brochure described the house—Charnbarrow Pele—as a 17th century farmhouse with courtyard, stables, and walled garden, attached to a 14th century fortified tower.

It fit the list I’d given the agent, but what gave me the fluttery feeling was the photo on the front of the brochure: A house sitting lost and lonely, waiting for an injection of life. 

No doubt I was being fanciful. I’d also seen what could be achieved with a few photoshop skills.

None of that mattered. Hopeful for the first time in months, I placed the brochure in the empty space on my dining table. 

Then I reached for the phone to call the agent.

About the Author 

Jackie Keswick was born behind the Iron Curtain with itchy feet, a bent for rocks and a recurring dream of stepping off a bus in the middle of nowhere to go home. She's worked in a hospital and as the only girl with 52 men on an oil rig, spent a winter in Moscow and a summer in Iceland and finally settled in the country of her dreams with her dream team: a husband, a cat, a tandem, a hammer and a laptop.

Jackie loves unexpected reunions and second chances, and men who write their own rules. She blogs about English history and food, has a thing for green eyes, and is a great believer in making up soundtracks for everything, including her characters and the cat.

And she still hasn't found the place where the bus stops.

For questions and comments, not restricted to green eyes, bus stops or recipes for traditional English food, you can find Jackie Keswick in all the usual places.

Blog/Website  |  Facebook group  |  Facebook page  |  Twitter 

Instagram  |  Newsletter Sign-up  |  TikTok  |  Patreon 

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

Blog Tour - Confetti Hearts by Lily Morton

Blog Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway:
Confetti Hearts
By Lily Morton

Confetti Hitched, Book 1

Joe Bagshaw doesn’t believe in love or marriage anymore, which is rather a hindrance for a wedding planner.

His own marriage was a whirlwind affair that ended before the ink could dry on the wedding certificate. Nevertheless, even with his divorce pending, he’s getting by. Or at least he was until he finds himself snowed in at a remote Scottish hotel with the wedding party from hell, a terrible ABBA tribute band, and his soon-to-be ex-husband.

Lachlan has missed Joe from the second his husband walked away. He wants Joe back and is prepared to do anything to get him. Being snowed in together seems to offer the chance Lachlan needs, but does he have what it takes to get Joe to trust in love and their marriage again?

From bestselling author Lily Morton, comes a romantic comedy about love, matrimony, and the best of second chances.

This is the first book in the Confetti Hitched series.

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Excerpt:

“I’m so sorry, Joe.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I croak. “This happens to me a lot.”

I’m crammed into a tiny bathroom cubicle, holding up one end of a massive meringue wedding dress. Lena the bridesmaid holds the other end while the bride sits on the loo.

Daisy stares at me from her porcelain perch. “This happens a lot?”

“Oh, almost every day,” I say airily. “I’d bet most gay men have never had this experience. I’ll be the envy of the gay choir.”

She snorts and Lena shifts in her cramped position in the bathroom stall. “Joe’s a wedding planner, so I’m presuming this is part of his job description, but I really do think the bridesmaid’s charter needs updating. I saw mention of hen nights, crappy dresses, and bridal blues, but absolutely zip about holding a wedding dress while the happy woman pees.”

Daisy chuckles. “This will be just like all those times I’ve held your hair back when you were drunk.”

“I’m just coming at it from the opposite end.”

They grin at each other, and I shift from foot to foot.

“It’s very warm in here,” I observe. “I hope I don’t faint, because that would make this whole thing very awkward.”

“It can get more awkward?” Lena says incredulously.

Daisy sighs. “I’m so sorry but I can’t go now.”

“Performance anxiety,” Lena says. “I do hope your bridegroom doesn’t suffer from the same thing.”

I twist to face the wall as best I can, trying to avoid leaving the skin of my nose on the door hinges. “I’ll try to give you some privacy,” I wheeze.

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Enter the Giveaway:

To celebrate the release of Confetti Hearts, we are giving you a chance to win your choice of any book from Lily’s backlist! Three winners will be chosen!

A Rafflecopter Giveaway

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/cc0f2a57662/?

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About Lily:

Lily is a bestselling gay romance author. She writes love stories filled with heat and humour.

She lives in sunny England with her husband and two children, all of whom claim that they haven't had a proper conversation with her since she got her Kindle.

Lily has spent her life with her head full of daydreams, and decided one day to just sit down and start writing about them. In the process she discovered that she actually loved writing, because how else would she get to spend her time with hot and funny men?

She loves chocolate and Baileys and the best of all creations - Chocolate Baileys.

Connect with Lily:
Facebook | Lily's Snark Squad Facebook Group
Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest
Website | Newsletter
Amazon Page | Goodreads | BookBub

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