Adriana Kraft

When it's time to heat things up...

LGBTQ

“Lewd, Despicable…” #EroticRomance #PrairieWoman #MFRWhooks #Art #FrenchImpressionism

by

 

Welcome to MFRW Hooks, where the authors of Marketing for Romance Writers share snippets from their stories to entice you into wanting more. Be sure to click on the links at the end to travel!

For the rest of March, I’m featuring our erotic ménage polyamory story Through The Lens.

EXCERPT

Set-up: Aaron has taken his portraiture class on a tour of the Minneapolis Institute of Art, where they’ve just entered one of the Impressionist galleries.

“Isn’t that the most lewd, despicable painting you’ve ever seen?”

Aaron looked up sharply from his notes. He hadn’t even begun to talk about one of his favorite Impressionist paintings—Caillebotte’s Nude on a Couch.

Ellen was standing with her arms crossed under her breasts, glaring with disdain at the painting.

“What’s your problem, Ms. Jeffers?” Maybe calling her Ms. Jeffers would snap her out of her tirade.

“It’s so huge. The woman is begging for attention, for sex. The painting must be life size. No wonder it’s under glass. Someone might claw it to pieces.”

Aaron gulped, trying to hold himself in check. Who would even think of such a thing? “This is one of Caillebotte’s most famous paintings. We’re quite fortunate to have it here.”

“I’ve never heard of Caillebotte. He must be a third rank Impressionist.”

“Well, you’re wrong, Ms. Jeffers.”

Tina grabbed Ellen’s arm to warn her, but Ellen pulled away.

“Not only was Caillebotte an impressionist of the first rank—it was through his financial support and considerable influence that the group was able to attain recognition and stature in its own time. What is your problem? We looked at other nudes in the last corridor, and you didn’t begin to flip out.”

Looking at least somewhat chastened, Ellen sniffed, seemingly unable or unwilling to let it drop. “The others weren’t in our face. She’s too bold. Good grief, she’s playing with a nipple. She’s trying to seduce us.” Her eyes widened. “She must’ve been a prostitute. Only such women would’ve posed like that during that era of French history.”

In case you’d like to see what triggered Ellen’s reaction, here is a link to the painting:

https://collections.artsmia.org/art/1655/nude-on-a-couch-gustave-caillebotte

You can read about how we came to first see the painting – and to write this moment – here: https://wp.me/p9O7pv-3bM

Through the Lens
Tags: Erotic Romance, Ménage, Four-Way, Prairie, Photography, Erotic Portraiture
Release Date: June 26, 2020
Publisher: Extasy Books
Genre: Erotic Romance; Ménage

BLURB

Will Ellen Jeffers cling to the sedate past that’s familiar, or will she embrace a different version of her history—one that includes tragedy, scandal, fortitude, and freedom?

It’s 2002, and South Dakota third grade teacher Ellen Jeffers has signed up for a photography summer course and assistantship at an art academy in Minneapolis. Thirty-three, divorced for nearly a decade from her college boyfriend, she’s not seeking major change. She just hopes the course will enhance her teaching skills and her resume.

Aaron Brewster comes from privilege, and he has used that status to flaunt his family’s values and carve out a successful career as a photographer specializing in black and white erotic portraiture. Has he ever loved? His love is for beauty, sensuality, eroticism. His new uptight teaching assistant will never fit that vision. Should he send her packing? For reasons he cannot fathom, he takes her on as a challenge.

Aaron’s frontal assault shocks Ellen, but it also triggers something deep inside she’s never been willing to acknowledge. Is her beloved prairie a safe refuge, or will it become a crucible for transformation? The choice is not merely Ellen’s.

UNIVERSAL BUY LINK

https://books2read.com/u/mdjMRy

 

Click on the links to travel to the rest of today’s hooks:

Release Blitz: Love Among the Stars by Claerie Kavanaugh #Sapphic #romance#LGBTQ #Giveaway

by

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Love Among the Stars (Entertaining Love, Book 1)

Author: Claerie Kavanaugh

Publisher: Half Caff Press

Cover Artist: Cath Grace Designs

Release Date: March 19, 2023

Genre: Contemporary F/F Romance

Tropes: Matchmaker, Celebrity

Themes: Coming out

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length: 40 000 words/ 250 pages

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

Goodreads

 

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US | Amazon UK

 

Hollywood’s best matchmaker may have finally met her match.

 

Blurb

Genevieve “Eve” Davis is Hollywood’s best, most sought-after matchmaker. Just about everyone in the City of Angels owes her for their happily ever afters. She’s been in the business for ten years and has never made a false move. The only person she hasn’t been able to hit with Cupid’s arrow? Herself.

Then Jemma, Hollywood’s most recent “it” girl, appears on her doorstep. But rather than having an extra bounce in her step, she looks like a dog just crapped all over her brand-new designer boots. The date Eve set up for her was anything but a fairy tale beginning. In fact, it was a downright disaster. The first bad review Eve has ever had. If she can’t fix this, her perfect reputation will be torn to shreds.

Even worse, the deeper she digs for that secret ingredient that will help her find Jemma’s perfect match, the harder she falls.

Book one in the standalone sapphic celebrity romance series ENTERTAINING LOVE

 

 

Excerpt

When I finally drag myself home, it’s nearly 1:00 AM. I’m asleep on my feet, but the Sandman won’t claim me no matter how hard I try. That stupid reporter’s grilling session keeps repeatedly playing in my mind. Could I have said something better? Different? More… Relatable?

Even as I lay here, I can’t help laughing. I sound ridiculous, so saying it out loud would make it worse. Right? After two hours of tossing and turning, I finally give up, kick the covers off, and wander into my living room.

I paddle across the hardwood floor—it’s so much easier to clean up all the cat hair without any carpet getting in the way—and plop on my fluffiest white sectional littered with cowgirl-themed throw pillows. I grab my favorite one. The one with Montana’s state flower on it–the Bitterroot, a beautiful purple blossom that looks like an orchids

I pick up one of the controllers, turn on the flatscreen and toy with a few buttons, but ultimately, it ends up back on the coffee table. I don’t have enough energy to play another level of Black Ops, so I flip on a random TV channel instead. Kiki hops up beside me, and I run my fingers over the underside of her chin– her favorite spot– as the television lands on yet another red carpet. Of course, it does. I know this is Hollywood, but what are the odds that I can’t escape the press even in my apartment? My parents had warned me before I moved out here, but I didn’t fully believe them until now. They do have eyes everywhere.

Sighing, I pick up the remote again–maybe there’s something good on HBO-but, as usual, Kiki’s timing is impeccable. She headbutts the control right out of my grip just as the next guest steps into the frame.

“Welcome back to the premiere of Crazy About Cupid.” The reporter waves his microphone in the air as if he’s twirling a baton, and I can’t stifle a snort. “Now that you’ve met the stars let me introduce you to the woman who started it all. I’m here with Genevieve Davis, owner and mastermind behind the world-renowned matchmaking company Matches Ever After. Genevieve, it’s so nice to see you again.”

The camera pans over slightly, and my heart skips a beat. The woman can’t be much older than me. Thirty at most. She has long, wavy brown hair, complemented by piercing green eyes. Her skin is pale and smooth, with a few freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose. A dimple is barely visible on her left cheek when she smiles. Even standing an entire foot shorter than the reporter towering over her, she somehow commands the entire carpet’s attention. The back of the dress is just as stunning with a low scoop that dips almost to the small of her back and hugs every single part of her deliciously curved figure in just the right place. When she turns to face the camera more fully, I barely see a tiny scar on her left cheek above her jawline.

Kiki purrs softly, and the remote slips from my grip, landing on the cushions with a thump.

“Nice to see you too, Seth. And how many times do I have to tell you? Call me Eve; Genevieve was my mother.”

They laugh, and I settle back against the pillows as my palms grow clammy. Even her voice sounds sexy.

“Sorry, Eve,” Seth waves a hand and tries to smirk at the camera as he corrected himself. I guess I’m just so excited. Rumor has it that you’re the reason we’re even here tonight?”

Eve giggles and playfully swats his arm. ” Oh, I’m not sure I would go that far.” She adjusts the silk shawl draped over her shoulders. ” I may have introduced Cole and Phoenix, but they put in the real work to make the relationship last, and they were the ones who allowed their story to be made into a movie.”

Seth grins. “Of course, but one could argue that their story wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for you. How long have you been in the matchmaking business?”

Eve chuckles. “Seth, are you trying to make me discuss my age?”

The reporter feigns a gasp. “Who me? Never!”

Eve narrowed her eyes. “Sure, sure. Honestly, though I’ve been in the matchmaking game for as long as I can remember, even back in college, I loved setting up my friends whenever I could. I’ve always been a firm believer in the idea that everyone deserves their happily ever after. Even and especially Hollywood starlets. Love is hard to find in a business like this, and I will do anything I can do to help.”

Seth nods along. “So true. What’s most incredible, though, is that my sources tell me you’ve never once made a bad match?”

Eve shrugs, but I can tell by the mischievous gleam in her eye that she’s proud of that statistic. Hell, I would be, too. “So far, so good.”

Seth whistled. “Well, you heard it here first, folks. If you live in the Los Angeles area and are looking for love, what better time to try Eve’s services? Go to her website at www.matcheseverafter.com, answer simple questions, and let the sparks fly.”

With that, he moves on to the next guest, but my mind remains stuck on that address. A matchmaker who had never made one bad move? My mom always used to say if something sounds too good to be true, it probably is. A statistic like that fits that bill. Still, is there any harm in trying?

As if on cue, Kiki promptly climbs off my lap, allowing me to grab my laptop. When I return and type in the address, Kiki leans over her shoulder and gently nudges my cheek.

“What is it, girl? Do you think this is crazy too?”

Kiki shakes her head, and her little collar jingles around her neck. I laugh. “At least somebody believes in me.”

For the first couple of questions, I’m oddly nervous. Why is anybody’s guess. It’s not like I’m staring at an actual person who will judge me. Computer forms don’t have feelings. Nonetheless, I take my time thinking out strategic and honest answers, and by the time I finally hit send, it’s nearly 5:00 AM.

Eventually, I fall into a fitful sleep, dreaming of baby cupids dancing around my head. Maybe love won’t be so hard to find in Hollywood after all. If I have the right help.

 

About the Author

Claerie Kavanaugh has spent most of her life telling stories, but she never imagined herself writing romance. In fact, she used to think it should only be reserved for Hallmark movies. It wasn’t until college, when she discovered fanfiction, that she learned what romance was truly about: not just fluffy relationships and happily ever afters, but human connection, the desire to push one another to be better, and create hope that somewhere, somehow, everyone has someone.

When she’s not writing, she loves to travel and explore new cultures, helping other authors polish their works as a freelance editor, and singing while doing so. Broadway musicals are her soul-food, something her mother and sister know well. She constantly blasts the newest soundtrack through the halls of their Missouri home, much to the chagrin of her very sassy and spoiled cat.

 

Social Media Links

Blog/Website | Facebook | Instagram | Newsletter Sign-up

 

Giveaway

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one of 5 ebook copies of Love Among the Stars

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Hosted by Gay Book Promotions



She didn’t want to stand out… #MFRWHooks #EroticRomance #LGBTQ

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Welcome to MFRW Hooks, where the authors of Marketing for Romance Writers share snippets from their stories to entice you into wanting more. Be sure to click on the links at the end to travel!

For the rest of March, I’m featuring our erotic ménage story Through The Lens.

About Our Story

Does your family history contain scandal? Ours does, as recently as my mother’s grandfather, who was born a bastard in an era when that status carried far more stigma than now. His mother – a logger’s daughter who served as a camp cook – was shunned and shamed for much of her life. On the other side, my husband’s grandfather was a bigamist. A threshing crew foreman in the early 1900s, he married and had children in Missouri, then married again in Kansas. When my husband’s grandmother learned about the other family, she divorced him; their son, my husband’s father, was ten years old.

We blessed—or perhaps cursed—our Through the Lens heroine with elements of these scandals. Naturally, she’s heard some of the stories. Through the Lens chronicles her struggle with these long-forgotten roots. Will she claim them, or run the other way?

Tags: Erotic Romance, Ménage, Four-Way, Prairie, Photography, Erotic Portraiture
Release Date: June 26, 2020
Publisher: Extasy Books
Genre: Erotic Romance; Ménage

BLURB

Will Ellen Jeffers cling to the sedate past that’s familiar, or will she embrace a different version of her history—one that includes tragedy, scandal, fortitude, and freedom?

It’s 2002, and South Dakota third grade teacher Ellen Jeffers has signed up for a photography summer course and assistantship at an art academy in Minneapolis. Thirty-three, divorced for nearly a decade from her college boyfriend, she’s not seeking major change. She just hopes the course will enhance her teaching skills and her resume.

Aaron Brewster comes from privilege, and he has used that status to flaunt his family’s values and carve out a successful career as a photographer specializing in black and white erotic portraiture. Has he ever loved? His love is for beauty, sensuality, eroticism. His new uptight teaching assistant will never fit that vision. Should he send her packing? For reasons he cannot fathom, he takes her on as a challenge.

Aaron’s frontal assault shocks Ellen, but it also triggers something deep inside she’s never been willing to acknowledge. Is her beloved prairie a safe refuge, or will it become a crucible for transformation? The choice is not merely Ellen’s.

EXCERPT

Ellen’s first morning assisting Aaron with his summer class…

“Now then, if Ellen would step forward.”

Ellen snapped to attention at the sound of her name. Now what?

Aaron motioned her to a stool. “Let me demonstrate a little what I mean by perspective and how it changes what the observer is seeing and feeling. That understanding will become sharper for you when you’re looking through your cameras, but this will do for now.”

Ellen sat on the stool facing the class with her hands folded at her waist. She’d deliberately chosen to wear a blouse and skirt that came nearly to the knees because she didn’t want to stand out in the class. She tried not to grimace. So much for that.

“You’ve all been introduced to Ellen, and I’m sure you’ve chatted with her at break, so we’ve established some mutual comfort. Being comfortable with your model is extremely important when you’re doing portraiture. While you remain in overall charge of the setting and the photo, you must be tuned into your model—to what she is thinking and feeling. Many won’t tell you or can’t tell you.

“Now then, let’s take Ellen as she is.” He smirked. “Tell me what you see. What’s her mood? Who is she? Who might she want to be, and so on? Spit it out. One word or two. No more than three. Quickly now.”

“Pensive,” the college teacher said.

“Good. More. Don’t take time to reflect. You don’t have a lot of time to react in a sitting.”

“School teacher.”

Aaron laughed. “Yeah, I see that.”

“Shy.”

“Genuine.”

“Determined.”

“Capable.”

“Great! Now I’m going to pose Ellen as I want her. Swivel on your butt so you’re at a right angle to most of the group. Good. Now look back over your shoulder at them. That’s right. Hold that. Now what do you see?”

“Goodness. Mystery,” one of the stay-at-home moms said.

“Fun.”

“Temptress.”

“Almost sexy,” one of the guys said.

Holding her pose like she knew she was expected to, Ellen wanted to hop off the stool and bop that guy over the head. She tried not to wince. Had the simple change in direction made that much difference? Given the look on the faces of the students, it must have. Aaron had proven an important point. Never accept the obvious front-on position as the best or only perspective.

If she looked that different, maybe she should walk around the city with her chin resting on her shoulder.

“Go ahead and pout.” Aaron chuckled.

Without thinking, she did.

“As I thought. Even more sexy.”

She knew she must be blushing now. It was one thing to have one of the students describe her as sort of sexy—but she was supposed to be working with Aaron, not reacting to him.

By the time Aaron finished having her pose one way and then another, the students were all chattering, seemingly quite happy with their choice of instructor and class. Actually, Ellen was rather pleased, too, even if she hadn’t chosen him in the first place. Clearly, she could learn a lot from him.

UNIVERSAL BUY LINK

https://books2read.com/u/mdjMRy

 

Click on the links to travel to the rest of today’s hooks:

New Release! Opening Night, by Lisabet Sarai @LisabetSarai #EroticRomance #LGBTQ #HistoricalRomance #MM

by

MM Historical Romance
6,800 words, Three flames
Smashwords and Amazon KDP
ISBN (Smashwords): 9798215446928
ASIN: ‎ B0BXCJVLC1

BLURB

Let your heart be your compass

It’s January 1887, a few days before the opening of the audacious new operetta “Ruddigore”. As if librettist William Gilbert doesn’t have enough to worry about, one of the D’Oyly Carte stars breaks his leg doing the horn pipe. Fortunately, the understudy Frank Wilson turns out to be immensely talented, as well as devilishly handsome. Wilson has set his heart on Gilbert – and he’s not going to be swayed from his course.

INTRODUCTION

A Lifelong Passion

When I was five years old, my parents took me to see my first Gilbert and Sullivan concert. I remember it surprisingly well. Organized outdoors as part of a summer music festival on the Boston Common, the performance featured the legendary Martyn Green from the D’Oyly Carte Opera company – the same troupe that originally mounted William Gilbert’s and Arthur Sullivan’s comic operas in the nineteenth century.

My father and mother were both G&S aficionados. The family must have had phonograph records of at least some of the operettas, because I could sing many of the songs by the time I was in my teens. Certainly we took advantage of whatever opportunities came along during my childhood to indulge ourselves in the topsy-turvy world of the famous pair.

The day I met my husband-to-be, he happened to mention that he was a G&S fan. I will admit, I took this as a sign that we were meant to be together. Later, he and I lived in a town that had its own G&S amateur group, who mounted a different operetta every year. Those were heady days! My parents would often travel cross-country to join us in what became a beloved ritual. During those years, I believe we saw performances of the entire G&S catalog.

Though not as generally popular as The Mikado or Pinafore, Ruddigore is probably my favorite Gilbert and Sullivan opera. This is partly due to the hints of darkness – Sullivan’s music echoing the eerier strains of Mozart’s Don Giovanni – but also the humor. The paradoxical logic that allows Sir Ruthven Murgatroyd to argue his way out of the witches’ curse is some of the best comic sleight-of-hand in any G&S play. Ruddigore also includes one of the most outstanding female characters in the oeuvre, Mad Margaret – a village woman driven to insanity by her passion for Ruthven’s Bad Baronet brother Despard. (Yes, I know, just the sort of person to whom a romance author would be drawn…)

There’s another bit in Ruddigore, though, that gave me the initial idea for Opening Night. Rollicking seaman Dick Dauntless is the foster brother and (supposedly) the bosom friend of the disguised Ruthven, and loudly proclaims his love for his brother in one of the scenes. What if that scene were to develop into a homo-erotic confession? I wondered. And then I thought about the possible repercussions, during the straight-laced Victorian period, if Gilbert were to find himself falling in love with another man.

Opening Night quotes liberally from the original play (courtesy of my mother’s Complete Works of Gilbert and Sullivan, which I inherited), but I admit to playing fast and loose with both history and the plot. I hope the result justifies this distortion – and that Gilbert would recognize the romantic appeal of my artistic license.

If you’ve never experienced Ruddigore, you’ll find a variety of recordings on YouTube, for instance: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=litYduyL1Xw

And for those of you who don’t have the patience to watch the opera… you might enjoy this four minute summary of the plot: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MeHbS8aA6TQ

In any case – I hope you’ll also check out my story!

EXCERPT

Opening night was tomorrow, and everyone seemed to be eager and ready. So why did he feel so weighed down, so anxious and exhausted?

It was past ten when a knock woke him from a doze that must have crept up on him despite the fear of nightmares. “Yes, who is it?”

His visitor didn’t wait to be invited in. “It’s me, William. It’s Frank.”

Gilbert bolted upright, anger providing him with sudden energy.  Red boiled behind his eyelids. “What are you doing here? I can’t have you here. Get out, this instant.”

The younger man shut the door. He sidled over in Gilbert’s direction. Gilbert backed away. “I needed to see you, William.  To talk to you, about the other afternoon. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard.”

“Never mind. Just go away now. Please, go away.”

“I apologize for being so rude, so insensitive.  I’ve been wanting you so long, it just seemed natural to say it. To show you. I should have realized how new this would be for you, how shocking.” With theatrical grace, Wilson glided to his knees in front of Gilbert, his head bowed. “Forgive me, please.”

Gilbert gazed down at Frank’s golden curls, gleaming in the harsh electric light. He smelled the man’s floral cologne. Damn, his heart was beating like thunder, and there was an uncomfortable tightness in his crotch. Damn, damn, damn.

“Get up,” he said gruffly. “Show a bit of self-respect, Wilson.”

“Not until I hear you say that I’m forgiven.”

“Fine, fine, I forgive you, now get up and go.”

Gilbert didn’t understand how he did it, but all at once Frank was standing in front of him, face to face, close, much too close. He was taller than Gilbert and had to bend to whisper.

“Thank you, William.” Then Gilbert felt the man’s mouth on his own. He felt Frank’s tongue toying with his mustache, tickling, probing, tentative at first, then bold and confident as Gilbert opened his lips.

Gilbert’s resistance melted. Frank’s arms encircled him, and Gilbert reciprocated, stirred by the sensation of strength in those young limbs. Frank tasted of horehound and tobacco, masculine and yet sweet. Frank kissed him eagerly, passionately, and from some place he had not known existed, Gilbert responded with equal passion.

He felt the hard, hot lump that he knew was Frank’s cock, grinding against his thigh. Somehow this did not terrify or appall him. He welcomed it, exquisitely aware that his own cock was swollen and sensitive.

The dark clouds that had haunted him for the past two days dissolved in the brilliance of Frank’s kiss. Gilbert did not think, did not worry or reason or judge. For the first time in a very long time, he simply allowed himself to feel.

BUY LINKS

Amazon  US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BXCJVLC1

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0BXCJVLC1

Smashwords –  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1354766

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/opening-night-lisabet-sarai/1143156836?ean=2940166025562

Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/opening-night-17

Apple Books – https://books.apple.com/us/book/x/id6445998898

Add on Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/123174847-opening-night

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, Pinterest, BookBub, BingeBooks and Twitter.

Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

“Your latest protégé does show promise…” #SnippetSunday #SnipSun #EroticRomance

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It’s New York! Broadway beckons…

Welcome to Snippet Sunday – ten sentences from all your favorite romance authors! You’ll find them all at this Facebook Group every Sunday:
https://www.facebook.com/groups/SnippetSunday/

Did you think we were leaving Meg behind? She has five more adventures coming. After her success in Seducing Cat, she says yes to what looks like a Sugar Daddy offer and heads off to her dream city, New York, with the much older Zachary Cullen to pursue her Broadway ambitions. I think all three main characters may be in for a surprise or two…

EXCERPT

Here is the opening scene:

Chapter One

“Your latest protégé does show promise, Zach.” Josette Patrice focused on the group of actors rehearsing onstage and avoided looking at Zachary Cullen as they stood shoulder to shoulder in the back of the small, semi-darkened playhouse.

“Hmm.”

Josie smiled. Was he pondering Meghan Keenan’s thespian talents, or her bedroom talents? Josie was certain the petite twenty-one-year-old would excel in both venues.

Not for the first time, Josie wondered why the highly successful fifty-something entrepreneur invested so much time and money trying to find the next Broadway star. Was it his ego, his desire to take young struggling actresses and help them make their way to New York City—specifically, to her?  Or was it the side benefit of sex with gorgeous young women that kept Zach on the lookout for talent as he traveled from one business interest to the next? Meghan was the third young woman he’d brought her over the past ten years.

BOOK INFO

A Woman for Zachary
Meghan’s Playhouse Book 2
Published by: eXtasy Books
Length: 28000 words
Heat level: Four flames
Pairings: MF, FF, FFM
Tags: Contemporary Romance , Erotic Romance , LGBTQIA+

BLURB

It’s New York! Broadway beckons, but Meg has more fun keeping an erotic triangle going with her current flame, Zach Cullen, and her drama coach, Josie Patrice.

Zachary Cullen has ignored Josette Patrice’s overtures for years, but she agrees to take on his latest protégé-slash-arm-candy Meghan Keenan in her off-Broadway workshop theater. Though the girl has incredible talent, Josie would stake her reputation on that little thing being a switch-hitter, like herself, and she doesn’t want Zach to be duped. Josie sets out to seduce Meg and expose her for what she is, but all bets are off when Meg turns the tables on Josie to hook her up with Zach.

BUY LINK

https://books2read.com/u/badVG2

FIND EVERYONE’S POSTS IN THIS FACEBOOK GROUP:

https://www.facebook.com/groups/SnippetSunday/

Release Blitz ~ Blue Billy’s Rogue Lexicon by David Lawrence #HistoricalRomanticComedy #RomCom @GayBookPromo

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RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Blue Billy’s Rogue Lexicon

Author: David Lawrence

Publisher: Broadbound Publishing

Cover Artist: Jane Dixon-Smith

Release Date: February 21, 2023

Genre: Historical Romantic Comedy

Themes: Coming-of-age

Length: 75,000 words/ 245 pages

Heat Rating: 2 flames

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

Goodreads

 

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link | Amazon US | Amazon UK

 

A Laugh Out Loud, Bawdy, Historical Romantic Tale

Blurb

William Dempsey was a wonder among wonders.

By 18, he had risen from a gang of London street rogues to be the personal plaything of the Marquess of Argyll. Maintained in splendour, celebrated at masquerades – with everything he could wish for.

Now all has come crashing down. He is put out in the rain without patronage, his West End apartment, or a place among the ton.

So on a stormy night, he arrives at a house in Southwark. Marathon Moll’s in the Mint – the bawdyhouse he worked in during his ascent and where he earned the name Blue Billy.

But is Marathon Moll’s a place from which to rise again? For there is one in the crowd, who catches his eye. Who takes his hand and promises something better.

Or does Moll’s signify a return to his roots? For one day, a second and very different young man raps on the door. Takes his hand and asks him to return to his past.

To the cat language of vagabonds. The canting dialect of thieves.

To the schemes, and the dreams, of his youth.

Excerpt

The Mint, Southwark, 1771

Chapter 1

Abram Cove

among thieves signifies a naked or poor man; also a lusty strong rogue

“And what have we here?”

“Let us in, Moll. Beast of a storm tonight, ain’t it?”

“Aye,” returned Moll, cinching her silk wrap while maintaining a hand behind the front door she’d opened just an inch. “Stormy for some, by the look of it.”

The wind sent rain barrelling into this secluded yard in the Mint, taking the standing, shiftless dregs of chamber pots for an airy jaunt. Souls Yard, a misshapen cul-de-sac of three freestanding abodes, consisted of a squat, squalid cottage, from which no light entered or emerged. A converted barn with modish ventilation in every wall and door, the slope of its gambrel roof rather like hands praying for intervention. And the jewel of the Yard, Marathon Moll’s: a double-fronted, two-story block tethered at east and west with slender chimneys touched with scoliosis.

“Have you lost your way tonight, Billy?”

With a look of wounded indignation, William Dempsey said, “Ain’t it enough to wish the company of an old, dear friend? ‘Old’ meaning previous-like,” he added, “nothin’ more.”

The door remained unmoved; Billy was left to shiver on the tilted stonework of the front elevation. Wiping the endless stream of August rainwater from his face, he pressed himself against the opening until their faces nearly touched. Moll’s – with its native jaundice, like dirty lemon juice upon features which arrived at too many points. Billy’s – a canvas of creamy white, flushed with health and whose boyish pout Moll herself had often declared a criminal provocation.

“‘Old’ you have defined, Billy, but how do you define ‘dear friend’?” said the bawd, pushing up her aquiline nose. “That term implies paying calls of friendship, or at least of courtesy (which are not calls to steal from my house, mind you), and I’ve not seen your pretty face these two years.”

“That Blue Billy outside?” came a second voice from within. “Let him in out the rain, for God’s sake.”

Recognising the voice of one of the house’s most devoted patrons, Dempsey said, “‘Dear friend’ I define as Dip-Candle Mary there behind you, who I hear’s set to be married next week, so I come to bestow my congratulations.”

All around Souls Yard, eyes were opening within cracks in the ramshackle barn and, one sensed without ever quite knowing, at the darkened front window of the cottage. For though a code of honour kept the inhabitants of each from inquiring into the business of their neighbours, scenes in the Yard were fair game for all.

After a moment, and a great sigh from Moll, the door withdrew just enough to allow into the vestibule Dempsey’s small, slim form. Mary hurried forward to embrace him. He was a tallow chandler from Shoreditch, Dip-Candle Mary being his house name. Such names were customary in these houses, which referenced either one’s profession or physical appearance. Indeed, Billy had never known him by any other, though the man had always been sweet on him. Sweet enough to forgive the trinkets Billy had lifted from his dressing table when staying the night. That silver-handled comb the man really didn’t need seeing as how he kept his hair so short. That errant bit of coin taken from coat pockets…

From the dark vestibule, Billy looked toward the glow of the front parlour. The room was filled with claret wallpapering before which replicas of Roman forms thought or gloried or sported in alabaster relief. Chintz upholstered sofas and settees of various conditions reclined before the fireplace, currently cold, its salt shelf crammed with crucibles of scented oil waiting to ignite on crackling nights. The parlour was lit by two fat beeswax candles stuck into halves of an antiquated urn hung over the mantle. The widely cast light lifted a glow from the gold threading of the furniture and, for a moment, a glow in Billy himself as he recalled the handful of good times he’d enjoyed while living here.

No question, Moll had come up in the world. When his eyes returned to hers, pride shone in her face as though to say: only observe all I have accomplished since I got rid of you. When Billy took a tentative step forward, she held up a thin finger, forbidding him to take another step, dripping like a rainforest. He began to undress.

 

About the Author

I am the author of two queer historical novels – ‘Hugh: A Hero without a Novel’ and ‘Blue Billy’s Rogue Lexicon’. As a writer, I love taking a deep dive into the social norms and historical events of 18th century England, told with humour and whimsy, while presenting what I hope are compelling and unique coming-of-age tales.

A native of the American Southwest, I have spent much of my life in Great Britain, France, and Finland. I now live in the American Northwest – Helena, Montana – with my Finnish partner.
By day I love hiking under the Big Sky of my beautiful adopted state.
By night, however, I prefer wandering the byways of 18th century London…

 

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