Wednesday, November 26, 2014

BOOK BLAST: Renee George's Kiss My Ash plus #Giveaway!

Book Name: Kiss My Ash
Author Name: Renee George
Publisher: Ellora’s Cave
Categories: Bisexual, Erotica, Fantasy, Menage/Poly, Paranormal, Romance
Words: 27,000

A werewolf who’s hairless in full shift.

A water sprite who can’t hold his shape at the slightest touch of water.

An ash-tree nymph with a black thumb who kills every bit of flora in her vicinity.

That’s Fortunate, Missouri, in a nutshell—the town for abnormal paranormals. Nymph Romy, however, can one-up them all—her particular flaw is killing her. But thanks to a possible love spell, the wolf and the water sprite could be Romy’s key to cheating death. And the three misfits may find that even imperfect creatures can still create a sexy, loving, perfect union.

Inside Scoop:  Sol, Romy and Lucien love each other—emotionally, spiritually and physically. Which means both ménage and male/male action. You lucky reader, you.

A Romantica® paranormal erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, please exit this site.
An Excerpt From: KISS MY ASH
Copyright © RENEE GEORGE, 2014
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
Mathias was a korrigan, a fairy dwarf, and to his detriment, he’d been born male. An abomination amongst the korrigans, who were always female. Even his own mother had wanted him dead, but you can’t kill an immortal.
When he finally strolled out from behind the counter, his height no more than four feet, he held a red clay pot filled to the brim with a dark, loamy soil. Carefully, he handed it to Romy. “Here.”
She stepped away. “And what the hell am I supposed to do with dirt?” Maybe Mathias was tired of her bringing back dead plant after dead plant. It didn’t matter how much she watered the damn things, fed them, or even talked to them—none survived. She’d stopped giving them names after a while, awash with guilt and shame over each death.
His red eyes sparkled with excitement. “In this soil, there is a very special seed, my girl. Very rare and unique. I’m entrusting you with its care.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. There is no way in hell I’m taking on a ‘rare and unique’ plant. No. No. No. Give me a hardy shrub or weed. Better yet, maybe a cabbage. I won’t feel so bad about a cabbage when it croaks.”
Romy was a dryad; specifically, an ash tree nymph. Which meant, in theory, plants should flourish around her, but she couldn’t even keep her own tree alive. Her mother had postulated it had something to do with the sperm donor, aka Romy’s biological father, but the elder dryad had refused to say more on the subject. Tree nymphs were traditionally a love-’em-and-leave-’em race of females. They didn’t get involved with beings they considered no more than means to an end. Males born to tree nymphs always developed into the same race as the male halves of the couplings, while the females were always dryads.
Unfortunately, something had gone very wrong in the making of Romy. It hadn’t taken long after the dryad equivalent of puberty set in before her people had decided she was toxic.
She pushed the pot back to Mathias. “Uh-uh. You’ve seen my track record.”
When her “birth defect” had eventually started to affect the trees of her forest six months ago, Romy had been summarily kicked out by the other dryads. Of course, her people had called it a “long, extended respite” and sent her to the town of Fortunate, Missouri.
The moniker, over the years, had become a joke. The town had been named after the Fortunate Isles, also called the Isles of the Blessed, and had been used for more than two hundred years as a dumping ground for the “paranormally challenged”. Those who didn’t fit in with their own kind were sent to Fortunate to finish out their days. For immortals like Mathias, the end of days was a long-ass time.
For Romy, well…without a tree to tend, she wouldn’t live another year, the chlorophyll drying in her veins. The plants were test subjects for her, to see if she could sustain life. So far, they’d served only to help ease the ache of dying. But as far as tending plants and making them flourish, she failed constantly.
For Mathias to trust her with a “special” plant…no way was she taking on that kind of responsibility.
It was one thing to kill a common houseplant, but a whole ’nother thing to be responsible for something “rare and unique”. Was Mathias crazy? Romy shook her head again. “I can’t. Don’t you have an air plant or something? Hell, those suckers don’t even require watering.”
He patted her hands, his fingers soothing and gentle. “Ah, but my dear, I hope this may be the answer to—”
Mathias’ explanation was cut off by a barking baritone. “Ah, shit!”
Romy put the pot on the counter as she scooted around Mathias to see who the unfamiliar voice belonged to.
In the greenhouse area beyond the main shop, two long, well-muscled legs and a firm ass, all packaged in perfectly tight jeans, stood nestled between two rows of plants.
“Hello,” Romy said.
The owner of the legs and ass straightened, making him a foot taller than Romy. And oh goddess, did he have an upper body and face to go with the lower half—thickly muscled chest and broad shoulders crowned by a face with bow lips, a Roman nose and the brightest green eyes. All framed by messy, shiny black hair that fell about his shoulders. It was as if the gods had decided to create perfection.
Ridiculous though—they would never do that. But hot damn, they’d come pretty close.
“Uh, hello yourself,” he said back, dusting his palms against his jeans.
His really low voice, which would have better suited a grizzly bear, sent a humming through Romy that made her body sing.
“What have you done now, Lucien?” Mathias asked when he walked into the back. His presence was enough to break the harmony, and Romy snapped out of her new-guy-induced daze.
“What a great name.” She smiled. It made her feel foolish, but she couldn’t punch down the giddiness.
“It’s a name.” He shrugged then leaned over again, which gave Romy another clear shot of his fabulous ass. When he stood once more, he held a small plant, cradling the roots carefully. He looked at Mathias. “I broke the pot, but the fern is fine.”
Lucien had a slight accent, but Romy couldn’t put her finger on the origin. If possible, it made the young man even more exotic and mysterious.
Mathias shook his head, making his red beard sweep his chest. “Where’s Sol?”
“I’m here!” Sol Winter, who’d been working for Mathias long before Romy had moved to Fortunate, stepped out from behind the last row of plants. He wore a baby-blue polo shirt that matched his light-blue eyes. It also complemented his tan, a deep golden bronze. Natural, according to him. Strange for an elf, but who was Romy to judge? His long blond hair was pulled into a ponytail. He often wore it down and spilling over his shoulders, but generally had it tied back for work.
Sol was taller than Lucien by several inches and a little broader. His smile brightened when he saw Romy. “Hey, you.” His mouth turned down in sympathy. “Kill another one?”
They’d had a strange relationship ever since Romy had arrived in Fortunate, which generally involved spirited banter and sarcasm. Even when the conversation turned a little mean, Romy was still thankful for Sol. He was the closest thing she had to a friend.
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Nice.” He raised a brow. “Bitchy much?”
Even though she was certain Sol was gay, it didn’t stop her from having some wicked fantasies about him. After all, the man was hot-hot and knew how to dress. “Takes one to know one.”
“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the oak this morning.” Sol scooped a handful of topsoil and pitched it at her.
“Oh no you didn’t.” In retaliation, Romy grabbed a nearby hose and squeezed the nozzle trigger, dowsing Sol where he stood.
“Stop!” Lucien yelled.
Too late. At Lucien’s shout, Romy turned, the spray of water slapping across the man’s face—and Lucien instantly melted into a clear puddle on the greenhouse floor.
Mortified, she dropped the hose. “Oh no!” She shook her head and stumbled forward. “What have I done?” Not only was she a plant killer, apparently she was a man killer as well.
Two lips formed in the clear pool. “I’m fine. Really.”

Sales Links: Ellora's Cave | Amazon

About the Author: Multi-published, best-selling author Renee George has been a factory worker, an army medic, a nurse, a website designer, a small press editor, an artist, and a teacher, but writing stories about sexy alpha men is the BEST job she's ever had. When she turned thirty, she went back to college and earned her BA in creative writing. She has been married to the love of her life, a wonderful man who supports in every way, for over half her life (and that is a VERY long time!). She happily lives in a small, Midwest town with her husband, two needy dogs and a very independent cat. Anything else you want to know, just ask. She’ll give you all the nitty gritty dirt.

Author Contact:

Tour Dates: November 26

Tuesday, November 25, 2014

INTERVIEW: Susan Mac Nicol plus #Giveaway!

Hello Susan and welcome to The Hat Party! <3 Thank you so much for subjecting yourself to the RANDOMNESS that is a Raine O'Tierney interview! Please don your best hat, and let's get started!

You’ve been given the opportunity to go back in time and give your 13-year-old self a message. What do you say?

I’m going to be completely mercenary here,  be a bit of a bitch and people may well hate me for what I’m going to say. I’d look myself in the eyes and say to me 'If you bloody fall in love,  make sure it’s with a rich man. Rich like Croesus. Yes you need to love him too,  and be happy,  just make sure he has money too. It’s achievable. ' Then when I write my first book much earlier on in my life instead of being *coughs loudly' years old, I won’t have to work and I can focus on what I love most which is writing stories about sexy men.  Of course, I’d probably not listen to myself,  and bleat on about  it all sounding a little grasping and greedy, whatever happened to true love despite his net worth blah blah blah but at least I can say I tried.

So, you were editing along and zombies attack. And they are on fire! What do you do?

Pour myself another cup of tea and offer them one. Everyone knows the British use tea as the balm to all evil. If they didn’t like that tea,  I could always throw the tea at them and run like the blazes. Hopefully I won’t be blazing too.

Describe yourself using song lyrics

Oh good lord. Really? *sighs* Well, okay. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. This might not be a description of me, but it’s something I do.
PS To be sung to the tune of 'I have often walked down this street before'  from My Fair Lady.
 PPS This is my husband singing.

I have often walkedIn this lounge before,To see a frazzled author lying on the floor.She is mumbling so - it’s too sad to seeHer lying there,  with that drool on her chin..

It maybe doesn’t quite fit the original cadence of the lyrics but it was the best I could do. If you want to see the original, here it is.

You have 200 words—Make. Me. Swoon. (PLEASE!)

The man sitting opposite him was nothing like his last partner. Where Matt had been cruel, this one was kind; where Matt had been a taker, Lucien was a giver. Thomas sat at the restaurant table, surrounded by the quintessential wrappings of a Valentine’s Day gift with candles, soft music and an ambience that could not have been created better had it been a romance movie. When Lucien saw his gaze, he smiled softly, slightly hesitantly, and in that minute, when his eyes shone with the light of the flickering candle, and his beautiful skin flushed with the intensity of Thomas’s heated gaze, Thomas knew in his heart that he had fallen. Irrevocably, undoubtedly fallen. In lust, in desire, in need, in anticipation, in friendship. Most of all, he’d fallen in love - for the first time in his life. The feelings he had for the man with sable curls, eyes the colour of honey and skin like soft creamy velvet, this surge of passion and fulfilment Thomas held locked in his heart- that was all for Lucien Crane. There could never be anyone else, would never be anyone that made his pulse race and send shivers of delight through his body.

What makes you inexplicably happy?

Lots of things, mostly little ones. Dressing up to go a theatre night, and breathing in the excitement of the West End. Seeing my children do well, seeing them happy and fulfilled, and recognised for the great human beings that they are. Seeing my books do well obviously, knowing people are buying them. Hearing from someone I haven’t heard from in a long time, wanting to get together and bond…

What is your biggest, most-wild writing dream? (Nothing is too outlandish!)  

It’s pretty simple actually. I want a beautiful big mansion in the English countryside, overlooking fields and forests. I want a study with a library that looks like something out of Captain Nemo’s submarine, all wood, leather, bronze and red. I want huge picture windows looking out into the gardens. My desk would be by the window and as I type my next  novel, I want the butler asking me quietly what I’d like as refreshment. I want the security of riches to support me into old age as I concentrate on simply doing what I love best without worrying about the future. Or how many books I’m selling. Or why I’m not selling lol…

What is your favorite literary quote?

This is it. It’s simple but heartfelt. And true.
"Cherish your friends, stay true to your principles, live passionately and fully and well. Experience new things. Love and be loved, if you ever get the chance."
One Day by David Nicholls

What one food item do you consider to be your arch nemesis?

Anything with starch and pastry. Sausage rolls, pies, crisps, pretzels. I have a definite savoury tooth.

Biggest mistake you’ve made in your writing career and what you’ve learned from it.

When I first started out, it was reading reviews. Especially those on Goodreads. For someone just starting out, it wasn’t a good thing to do. I rejoiced in the good reviews and fell apart at the bad. My editor told me to put on my big girl pants and roll with it. I learnt to develop a thick skin, that you can’t please everyone and now I’m pretty blasé about the bad ones, and ecstatic about the good ones.

And finally, for THE most important question of all: what kinds of dachshunds are the BEST kinds of dachshunds?

Oh it has to be the long haired ones. I love them, they look like walking mop heads. So damn cute and small enough to take anywhere.


~ ~ ~

From Soho to Norwich, there’s no escaping love.


An award-winning chef with his own restaurant and an inexhaustible passion, Gideon Kent once had everything. Then came tragedy. It stole more than Gideon’s home. He hasn’t cooked since.

Until Eddie Tripp. Fun-loving and vivacious, the Norfolk redhead’s a real up-and-comer in Gideon’s kitchen—and other places. Slim where Gideon’s broad, easy-going where Gideon is growly, he and Gideon seem polar opposites, and yet Eddie conjures flavors that would tempt anyone with a taste for perfection. The sauce of love is already simmering, and this pair is about to dine on the most delicious dish they’ve ever prepared. Because Eddie’s been Gideon’s missing ingredient all along.

Categories: Contemporary, Erotica, Gay Fiction, M/M Romance, Romance

Excerpt: Eddie kissed back, wanting nothing more than this moment, this man in his body and his lips on his. Somewhere a bell rang and for a minute Eddie thought it might be the sound of his own passion translated to tinkling sleigh bells and fireworks like in the cartoon movies when two people kissed. He smiled at that thought then as the bell got more insistent and irritating, he turned to Gideon only to find he was no longer there. Eddie scowled and reached across to where the annoying bell sound was….

He woke from his dream upright, sweating, sticky with come and tangled in musty smelling sheets that had seen their fair share of jack off action lately and needed washing. His hand rested on his mobile phone as it trilled incessantly with his Big Ben alarm. He blinked owlishly for a minute, wondering where he was, then as the dream faded, he fell back in a loose heap with a sense of loss.

About the Author:

Susan Mac Nicol is a self confessed bookaholic, an avid watcher of videos of sexy pole dancing men, self confessed geek and nerd and in love with her Smartphone. This little treasure is called ‘the boyfriend’ by her long suffering husband, who says if it vibrated, there’d be no need for him. Susan hasn’t had the heart to tell him there’s an app for that…

She is never happier than when sitting in the confines of her living room/study/on a cold station platform scribbling down words and making two men fall in love. She is a romantic at heart and believes that everything happens (for the most part) for a reason.  She likes to think of herself as a ‘half full’ kinda gal, although sometimes that philosophy is sorely tested.

Lover of walks in the forest, theatre productions, dabbling her toes in the cold North Sea and the vibrant city of London where you can experience all four seasons in a day , she is a hater of pantomime (so please don’t tar and feather her), duplicitous people, bigotry and self righteous idiots.

In an ideal world, Susan Mac Nicol would be Queen of England and banish all the bad people to the Never Never Lands of Wherever -Who Cares. As that’s never going to happen, she contents herself with writing her HEA stories and pretending, that just for a little while, good things happen to good people.

Author Contact:

11/3: Rainbow Gold Reviews 11/4: Amanda C. Stone, Joyfully Jay 11/5: Rebecca Cohen Writes 11/6: Inked Rainbow Reads, Molly Lolly 11/7: Nic Starr 11/10: The Novel Approach, Wicked Faerie's Tales and Reviews 11/11: Book Reviews, Rants, and Raves, Hearts on Fire 11/12: Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words 11/13: Love Bytes, Twinsie Talk 11/14: Prism Book Alliance, Dawn’s Reading Nook 11/17: The Blogger Girls, Kristy's Brain Food 11/18: MM Good Book Reviews, Regular Guys, Hot Romance 11/19: 3 Chicks After Dark 11/20: Smoocher’s Voice 11/21: Multitasking Mommas 11/24: Kimi-Chan, Cathy Brockman Romances 11/25: Iyana Jenna, The Hat Party 11/26: Queer Town Abbey, Andrew Q. Gordon 11/27: Crystal’s Many Reviewers, BFD Book Blog, Michael Mandrake 11/28: EE Montgomery, My Fiction Nook, It’s Raining Men

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Monday, November 24, 2014

EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT: Iyana Jenna's Slippery Slope plus #GIVEAWAY! #MMROMANCE

Book Name: Slippery Slope
Author Name: Iyana Jenna
Publisher: JMS Books
Cover Artist: Written Ink Designs
Categories: Contemporary, Gay Fiction, M/M Romance, Romance


Actors Ethan Grey and Alex Haynes are gay, but in Hollywood, they can’t be open unless they’re willing to be typecast in future movies or they’re dating prominent gay producers. Since neither are willing to become stereotypes, and neither have studio boyfriends, they take another path -- hiding their relationship under the cover of a pretend girlfriend.

What works for Ethan, though, doesn’t work for Alex, who screws up to the point of losing his job and the chance to get another. His manager finally finds him another job across the pond, where he meets Nathan Wells.

Nathan can be the prominent producer Alex needs to further his career, but there’s something Alex doesn’t know about the man. Soon Wells grows obsessed with Alex, and he’ll do anything to keep Alex from getting away.

Though Nathan wants Alex for himself, there’s still Ethan to think about. Is the love story between Alex and Ethan really over? Or will Ethan find a way to get his boyfriend back?


“So what’s wrong about that?”
“What’s wrong about that? Dude, we’re too obvious. We don’t have to say anything, to declare anything, yet they can see it already.”
“Ethan,” Alex said slowly, “are you so ashamed of me, of our relationship, that you want to hide it? Is that what you really mean?”
“I don’t—I’m not—damn it, Alex, I’m not ashamed.” Ethan took a deep breath. “Look. Just see what my brother and sister have done. They know about us, and do they sound happy with that? No. They tease us. They’ll keep doing that. I know both our parents are very understanding. But imagine this.” Alex glanced at him tiredly. “Just imagine this. Aaron and Megan might only tease us, but what will people out there do to us once they know we’re really a couple?”
“I didn’t see any negative remarks on the net. I could even tell that they were excited about our being together.”
Ethan looked at him as if he were the most brainless person he knew.
“Alex, the environment where we work isn’t exactly friendly territory for gay actors. Have you ever thought what would happen if you came out?”
“Then I’ll never come out.” Alex shrugged.

Author Bio:

Iyana writes M/M short stories and novellas. Her works have been published by Evernight Publishing, JMS Books, Books to Go Now, Torquere Press, Bitten Press, Leap of Faith Publishing, Breathless Press, and Alfie Dog Fiction.
Iyana lives in Jakarta, a city famous for its traffic jams, a lot of cars and motorcycles, and people selling stuff on the roads. You can spend two hours on the road going to a place you can reach in half an hour in a normal situation. Thanks to the traffic jams, though, Iyana can come up with a lot of stories, mostly shorties, as she prefers to spend the time during her trips writing into her cell phone rather than sleeping.
Another thing Iyana loves is kitties. Right now she has three of them. Their names are Cil, Horus, and Betsy, and one kitten. When she doesn’t write, she plays with them, or they would play with her when she writes.

Author Contact:

Twitter: @IyanaJenna

Tour Dates/Tour Stops:






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Friday, November 21, 2014

BOOK BLAST: Lee Brazil's Cranberry Pi plus #Giveaway!

Book Name: Cranberry Pi
Author Name: Lee Brazil
Publisher: Lime Time Press
Cover Artist:  Laura Harner
Words: 45,000
Categories: Contemporary, Gay Fiction, M/M Romance, Romance

As if starting a new job, picking up the reins of a disorganized former colleague, and moving back in with his parents while he saves for a down payment on a house of his own isn't enough, Cecil Trace has just discovered that part of the Art Director's job at the exclusive Linwood Academy is putting on a series of holiday pageants…with the first one celebrating Thanksgiving just three short weeks away.
He's got enough on his hands getting reluctant students ready to wow their parents and the community with their brilliance, and preparing a holiday showing of his own artwork at a local gallery, he doesn't need recalcitrant but brilliant math instructor Reese Cavelli arguing about every little detail.
While Reese understands the new Art Director's urgency, he can't allow Cecil to undermine his authority with the students. Reese can't help being an ass to the new art director, and he knows in part his behavior is due to his own insecurities, but it's also got a lot to do with the fact that the vibrant young artist is so damned sexy in his jeans and bohemian shirts. Every time he comes into contact with Cecil Trace, he finds himself

The store doors whooshed open and a wave of cold air enticed him inside. The silver gum wrapper nagged at the back of his mind, but he was determined. No more picking up after other people. Not after coming in early and staying late and spending all his planning periods cleaning up Torey Crowe's disaster of a classroom over the last week.
Pulling out his smartphone, he called up a list of items he needed and swung a cart out of the corral. He knew the store like the back of his hand, but it seemed unusually crowded this Sunday. Ducking into an aisle to detour around a woman who appeared to have at least six two-year-olds in her charge, he nearly collided with another cart. Cursing, he veered to the left quickly. Too quickly as he wound up hitting a hanging display of sandwich containers in gaudy plastic colors.
"Fuck!" Instantly, he backed up a little and bent to retrieve the objects that had fallen from the display. Something rammed into his backside and sent him sprawling forward onto the dirty linoleum. "Fuck!" he snarled, catching himself with his hands and pushing upright.

"Oh, excuse me."
The pleasant baritone irritated him even more, because it seemed familiar. Spinning about, he found himself face-to-face with the devil himself. Or temptation. The man who'd hit him with the shopping cart was stooping to pick up the sandwich containers, and Reese didn't have a very clear view of him, but what he saw was enough to make his cheeks burn even brighter and his heart falter just a bit before racing.
Golden hair, in a long, straight sheet fell forward over his face, long…too long for a man, really. Reese tried to sneer, but his fingers twitched again, and he wanted to reach out and push that hair back behind the man's ear to see what sort of face it hid. He had an impression of slenderness, caught a glimpse of faded denim, and a shirt that looked a hell of a lot like his sister's baby doll pajamas before his cock swelled. Embarrassed, he jerked his own cart and trotted down the aisle. "Watch where you're going!" he choked out, racing for the produce department.

Available from Amazon | All Romance ebooks

About the Author:

Somewhere in a small town in up-state New York are a librarian and a second grade teacher to whom I owe my life. That might be a touch dramatic, but it's nevertheless one hundred percent true.
Because they taught me the joy of reading, of escaping into worlds crafted of words.

Have you ever been nine years old and sure of nothing so much as that you don't belong? Looked at the world from behind glasses, and wondered why you don't fit?

Someone hands you a book, and then you turn the page and see… There you are, running from Injun Joe in a dark graveyard; there you are fencing with Athos; there you are…beneath the deep blue sea- marveling at exotic creatures with Captain Nemo.

I found myself between the pages of books, and that is why I write now. It's why I taught English and literature for so many years, and it's why my house contains more pounds of books than furniture.
If I'd had my way, I'd have been a fencer…or a starship captain, or a lawyer, or a detective solving crimes. But instead, I am a writer, and I've come to realize that's the best thing in the world to be, because as a writer, I can be all those things and more.

If I hadn't learned to value the stories between the pages, who knows what would have happened? Certainly not college…teaching…or writing.

Author Contact:
Author Page:
Twitter: @leebrazil

Tour Dates: November 21, 2014

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