Friday, September 30, 2022

A one-night stand, a surprise baby, and a mysterious stalker – #RomanticSuspense #IndieMusician #Preorder @AmberDaulton1

Arresting Benjamin cover


Mechanic Benjamin Starwell cant stop thinking about Belle Hamlin, the ballsy musician he slept with and skipped out on months earlier. He never meant to get her pregnant, but he’ll do whatever it takes to win back her trust and be a part of his child’s life. His desire for Belle drives him to be a better man, but he’s worn thin with a garage to run and his estranged sister dumping her troubles on him.

Belle’s juggling impending motherhood, her indie rock career, and a stalker who’s determined to see her fail. Even though she’s desperate to get her priorities straight, she pushes aside her past hurt and welcomes Benji back into her bed. She never expects him to slip into her heart.

When the danger escalates, they face the greatest challenge of all—protecting their unborn child.

Excerpt (Five Flames)

He slowed his breakneck pace, easing his shaft in and out.

She whimpered and struck his chest. Ow. She shook her hand. Was he made of steel?

Beg. Tell me you want me, can’t live without me. I won’t change my mind about us, Belle. Tell me you know that.” He feathered his lips over her chin. “Or we stop.”

It’s my turn. You were in control last time. I should be—”

Benji stilled, halfway lodged inside her.

No.” The pressure in her body uncoiled. Belle wrapped her legs back around him and thrust her hips. “Please, don’t stop.” She pressed her face to his chest, fighting a sob. Her vagina throbbed in desperate need around his cock.

He shifted a little, pushing deeper, but it wasn’t enough. Not by a long shot.

Oh fuck, I know it. You won’t leave me.”

Surrender, Belle. Give me everything. Let me take care of you. There’s no shame in it.” He thrust hard, just once. His breath teased her inner ear. “You’re so strong, babe, but it’s time to do the hardest thing you’ll ever have to do—let go. Be mine.”

Oh, God.” Air stuttered through her lungs. Could she really let go and start over? “I need you inside me, Benji. I need all of you. Please. Give me release. Take me over the edge.”

Benji shuddered.

The harsh, lustful scowl on his face softened as she hiccuped.

Good enough.” He kissed her forehead and thrust to the hilt, arching his back. His head fell back on his shoulders as he shouted.

Ahh!” Her feminine muscles clamped him. God, the burn. Her thighs ached.

You won’t say it, but make no mistake—you’re mine, Belle. I’ll take you like this for the rest of our lives.”

Liquid desire clutched her inner core. Her muscles stiffened, joints tightened. She clung to her lover, digging her nails deep against his back. Her release spiraled out of control. A tsunami had nothing on the waves rushing through her veins. She screamed, the pressure so intense it hurt.

That’s it, babe.” Benji buried his face in the crook of her neck. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” His body jerked. He shouted, his orgasm surely striking like a gale-force wind. They rode the tide, locked in each other’s arms. He kissed the line of her jaw. “You make me happy.”

Good.” She stroked his bristled cheek. “I’m happy when I’m with you.”

He kissed her with a soft sweep of his lips that tingled her toes. Still nestled inside her, he tugged up his jeans and carried her to the bedroom for another round of playtime.



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About the Author

Amber Daulton is the author of the romantic-suspense series Arresting Onyx and several standalone novellas. Her books are published through Daulton Publishing, The Wild Rose Press, and Books to Go Now, and are available in ebook, print on demand, audio, and foreign language formats.

She lives in North Carolina with her husband and demanding cats.

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Thursday, September 29, 2022

NEW RELEASE: Sapphic Seduction Vol 2 by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985) #lesbianerotica #eroticromance #anthology

Sapphic Seduction Volume 2 cover


If you enjoy short, steamy tales of women getting together, then check out this collection from the pen of award-winning author Lucy Felthouse.

From Sapphic fun at the seaside to showing off by the pool, clearing out an old shed to getting the hots for musicians, and even a spot of voyeurism, this book has F/F goodness in spades. There’s something for everyone, and will have you eager to turn just one more page.

Enjoy fifteen titillating tales, over 50,000 words of lesbian lusciousness.

Please note: The stories in this anthology have been previously published.

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from “Hardware”

Caroline and Della walked up to the shed door, paused, and exchanged a nervous glance.

Taking a deep breath, Caroline straightened her spine and pushed back her shoulders. “Come on, Dell, we’re almost there. This is the last big job we’ve got to do. Then we can move on to the fun stuff. Like decorating and building furniture.”

I know,” Della replied, eyeing the wooden storage space with distaste, “but it’s also the most terrifying. We haven’t got a clue what’s in there. Could be dead bodies or rotting body parts for all we know.”

Rolling her eyes, Caroline replied, “It is the most terrifying, but you might be letting your imagination run away with you a bit. I don’t think the old boy was a serial killer, somehow. He was ninety, for Christ’s sake!”

He wasn’t always ninety. He was our age once.”

True, but if he’d been hiding bodies or body parts in his shed for decades, someone would have noticed. The smell, for starters. And flies. Rats.”

Grimacing, Della said, “Guess we’ll soon find out.”

Caroline twisted the key in the lock, then opened the shed door with a sense of trepidation. Unlike her girlfriend, she wasn’t expecting anything sinister to be lurking in the gloom. More a whole bunch of stuff they wouldn’t have a clue what to do with. They’d bought the property—their first, after renting for years—from the family of the old boy who had recently passed away. None of the family was local, so they’d offered a hefty discount on the house to compensate Caroline and Della for cleaning it out.

It hadn’t been all bad—they’d made a tidy sum from selling some of the stuff they didn’t want; including antique and handmade furniture, collectibles, and a considerable book and DVD collection. The latter, as well as piles of old photographs, which they’d forwarded on to the family, had given them a real insight into Ted’s life and the type of person he was. Which was why Caroline wasn’t worried about finding anything nefarious in the shed. He had been a nice bloke, by all accounts, fond of his family, his friends, and his work. Carpentry had been his vocation, not just his career—hence the handmade furniture they’d sold on. So, Caroline’s common sense was telling her the scariest thing they were likely to find was spiders.

She reached inside to undo the bolts holding the other door closed. After a little wrestling, but not too much, she pulled them free. It seemed old Ted had maintained the shed right up until his declining physical health had made it impossible. It must have driven him crazy to not be able to do all the things he used to. She flung both doors wide to let the light flood in and stood back.

Gazing into the cavernous space, both girls were silent for several long moments. Then Caroline turned to Della with a grin. “Well then, should we get started?”

Wide eyed, Della looked back at her. “Where the hell do we start? What is all this stuff?”

God knows.” Caroline squinted at the piles of chaos. “Carpentry tools, at a guess. And, er, decorating stuff, and… just stuff. Normal shed stuff, see? Nothing dead or decaying in sight. It’s just a little bit dusty and very untidy. Looks like he was a hoarder. We may as well do what we did with the rest of the house—empty everything out and sort through it as we go. Figure out what we want to keep—if anything—what needs throwing away, and what we might be able to sell.”

Not sure we’ll get much interest in ‘thingymajigs’ on eBay.” She pointed at a metal contraption with a circular blade. “I mean, what the fuck is that thing?”

Caroline stuck her tongue out at Della and stepped into the shed. “Don’t be so defeatist. Come on! The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll finish.”

Reluctantly, Della joined her girlfriend. “Okay, let’s get going.”

An hour and a half later, they stopped for a tea break. “Fucking hell,” Caroline said, blowing on the surface of her tea, then taking a sip as she surveyed the three piles—keep, sell, dump—they’d created. “There seems to be a ton of stuff out here, and yet looking in there,” she jerked her head towards the shed, “it looks as though we’ve barely scratched the surface.”

It’s like the fucking TARDIS in there, isn’t it?” Della replied, shoving at a plastic paint tray with the toe of her shoe.

Hmm…” Caroline regarded the insanity, then gave a wry smile. “But it’ll be worth it in the end, though. The shed itself seems sturdy enough, so we’ll have plenty of storage space for any tools we keep, plus any gardening paraphernalia we buy…” She tailed off, letting her words sink in. Given they’d only ever rented flats, gardening hadn’t been high on the agenda, and Della had often lamented the lack of having a green space of their own.

Narrowing her eyes, Della took a couple of gulps of her drink. “Yeah… I suppose you’re right. We’ll need a lawnmower, and a strimmer, a spade, a hoe—”

We’ve already got a ‘ho’,” Caroline quipped, wiggling her eyebrows theatrically and pointing at Della.

Hey,” Della exclaimed, punching Caroline playfully on the arm. “Bitch. That’s not very nice.”

Chuckling, Caroline shrugged. “What can I say? I’m not very nice.”


Smirking at each other over the rims of their mugs, the pair finished their drinks in silence.

Done?” Della asked, holding out her hand. “I’ll stick these in the kitchen.”

Caroline passed her empty mug to Della. “Thanks. Right, I’m going back in…”

Picking her way across the clear part of the floor, Caroline looked around, wondering what she should tackle next. Just then, she spotted a wooden stool with a coil of rope sitting on top of it.

All thoughts of clearing out the shed flew from her mind as a grin crept onto her face. She had a much better idea.

About the Author

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award), The Persecution of the Wolves, Hiding in Plain Sight, and The Heiress’s Harem and The Dreadnoughts series. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 170 publications to her name. Find out more about her and her writing at

Release blitz organised by Writer Marketing Services.

Tuesday, September 27, 2022

Would he concentrate on her pleasure? #SoutheastAsia #EroticRomance #MFRWHooks

Singapore Fling cover

It’s Wednesday once again, time for another Marketing for Romance Writers Book Hooks blog hop. Today I’m featuring the first title in my Asian Adventures series, Singapore Fling, a fun romance set in Southeast Asia featuring a couple of young entrepreneurs.

If you like what you've read, you can find buy links for the single title here:

Alternatively, you can snag the boxed set for the entire series, free on Kindle Unlimited:


In the cleanest city in Asia, things can still get messy.

Thai entrepreneur Ploy Kaewkornwattanasakul has come to Singapore to close a deal. Ploy needs to convince tech whiz Jason Chow to license his ground-breaking innovation to her company on favorable terms. The future of her startup depends on her negotiating skill. When she meets Jason, though, she realizes she wants not just the invention, but the inventor, too.

Jason Chow is a brilliant engineer, a successful businessman and a bit of a rebel. He’s attracted to Ploy from the moment he sets eyes on her. However, he doesn’t dare respond to her advances, for fear she’ll discover his secret vice.

Ploy doesn’t understand why the sexy CEO has rejected her. She figures she’ll have to content herself with the cold comfort of a signed contract—unless the strength of Jason’s desire overwhelms his shame.

The Hook (PG)

The broth was oilier than in Thailand and three teaspoons of roasted chili sauce barely raised the spice level. Still, Ploy emptied the bowl. She’d had to leave her condo at four AM to catch her seven thirty flight; there had been no time for breakfast.

The sacrifices I make for my business! She grinned to herself, snagging the last bit of pork with her chopsticks. Most Thais would awaken an hour earlier rather than forgo a meal. It would all be worth it, though, if she could convince Interia to sign the joint development agreement.

No sooner had Ploy pushed the dish away than a uniformed staff member rolled up next to her with a plastic bin of dirty utensils. It took no more than a few seconds for the employee to grab the bowl, balance it on top of a pile, wipe the table clean, and disappear.

Ploy glanced around the open space. Every table was full, most with multiple people, eating with single-minded determination. Clearly at the height of lunch hour, available tables were rare. Throughput was critical.

Probably she should vacate her table, but she didn’t like feeling pressured. Anyway, she’d just paid the equivalent of two hundred baht for a single bowl of not-very-exciting noodles. For that price, she could buy a full dinner in Bangkok. She had the right to sit here for a while.

She glanced around at the other customers in the busy, noisy hawker center, a mixture of shoppers and business people judging by their clothing. Most alternated between animated conversation and shoveling food into their mouths. Others sat glued to their phones, swiping away with one hand while manipulating chopsticks in the other. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry.

Three tables away, though, she noticed an anomaly: a solitary young man, reading a hard cover book. She couldn’t make out the title at that distance—it could have been in Chinese, for all she could tell—but whatever it was, it completely engrossed him. He was oblivious to the bustle around him, including the frequent accusatory looks he received from the cleaning staff.

A real, printed book! Ploy was surprised to see anyone his age opting for dead trees as opposed to a touch screen.

There was nothing remarkable about the man himself. A bit taller than average for a Singaporean, slender but not skinny, he had typical Chinese features. He wore the dark pants and white shirt, sleeves rolled up, that was the common business uniform in the steamy climate. His slightly shaggy black hair fell into his eyes as he bent over the book. A pair of dark-framed glasses and a phone rested on the table next to him.

Something about his utter stillness drew her, though. Attracted her, in fact. She found his focused concentration exciting. This was a man with a powerful will, a person who had no difficulty ignoring what did not concern him. A bit of a rebel, too, given his willingness to flaunt social convention in this aggressively polite city. Like her, he wasn’t about to bow to the unreasonable demands of his inferiors.

Ploy licked her lips, tasting the residue of the chili sauce. Her nipples tightened under her suit jacket. What would he be like in bed? Would he take charge? Would he concentrate on her pleasure, with the same single-mindedness with which he addressed his book?

New heat simmered between her thighs as she tried imagining the young man naked. This was a game she often played back in Bangkok, observing and fantasizing about strangers. Once or twice, she’d gone further, propositioning a guy she found attractive. She’d learned from those disappointing experiences. Now and for the foreseeable future, at least while she was building her company, she relied on her imagination and the high-tech vibrator her younger sister had brought back from the Netherlands to keep her sexually satisfied.

A relationship with one of her peers simply wasn’t possible. Oat was a bright guy, and very sweet, but he and her other engineers had to be off limits if she was going to maintain her authority as CEO. Her mother’s matchmaking efforts had fallen flat. Most Thai men couldn’t handle an intelligent, independent woman like Ploy.

The man with the book continued to ignore everyone around him. Ploy continued to stare, fascinated. All at once, as if he felt the weight of her attention, he looked up. Their eyes met. A shuddering wave of arousal rocked Ploy’s body. The faintest of smiles twitched at his lips. His expression suggested that he knew exactly what was going on in her mind.

Flustered, she broke away to examine her phone. One fifteen! Barely time for a quick visit to the ladies room before her meeting. Without looking back at the stranger, she scooped up her things and headed for the elevator. Still, she imagined his gaze following her. Sweat dampened her blouse, despite the air conditioning. She splashed some water on her face and willed her pulse to slow. She wanted something from Jason Chow of Interia; she’d need a clear head to get it.


I hope you’ll visit the other authors participating in today’s hop. Just follow the links below.

Monday, September 26, 2022

Review Tuesday: Grayality by Carey PW -- #LGBTQIA #Transgender #ReviewTuesday

Grayality by Carey PW

Pride Publishing, 2022

Pate Boone was born Patricia, but he never felt he belonged in a woman’s body. His partially complete transition brings him both freedom and anxiety – freedom to express the man within, anxiety that someone will discover he still has female genitals.

Oakley Ogden was Pate’s lover, before the transition. Now, they’re closest of friends. When Oakley moves to the little town of Cloverleaf, Montana, to help his beloved grandmother in her battle with cancer, he invites Pate to join him. Both of them are looking for a fresh start, and in Cloverleaf, they find both new friends and new challenges.

Pate falls in love with Maybelle, a pretty eighteen-year-old college girl. Oakley finds himself drawn to sassy, gender-fluid drag performer Jody. Though Maybelle claims to be his girlfriend, Pate can’t let down his guard for fear she’ll reject him when she learns he’s transgender. Meanwhile, Oakley struggles to reconcile his conviction that he’s straight with his attraction to a person with a penis.

In a small rural community like Cloverleaf, it’s tough to keep secrets. Revelation of the truth brings heartache, prejudice and violence. Both Pate and Oakley need help in trusting their hearts and opening their minds to relationships that blur the rigid lines of gender.

About a month ago, I featured a promo post about Grayality on my blog. I liked the author’s subject and voice so much that I requested a review copy of the book from the publisher. I’m very glad that I did.

In this novel, Carey PW is brutally honest about the transgender experience. The visceral rejection of a female body – the physical and psychological roller coaster of transitioning – the fear of being outed -  the doubts about whether you’ll ever be accepted or find love – this book made all of that real for me. Grayality is a romance, but it’s about as far as you can get from the fantasy/wish-fulfillment that characterizes much of the genre. A loving relationship takes hard work under any circumstances. The difficulties multiply when the object of your affections doesn’t fit into the societally-sanctioned gender pigeonhole.

Readers will empathize with Pate and Oakley, the focus characters in this tale, but I found secondary characters Jody and Stormy even more appealing. Both of them flaunt gender norms with a level of self-confidence that neither Pate nor Oakley has yet achieved. Jody in particular blends sexy femininity and casual masculinity. She’s completely comfortable in her own skin, but the author makes it clear that this comfort did not come easily.

If you’re looking for a feel-good MM romance that conforms to popular tropes – soul-mates, instant physical attraction, life in a queer-friendly world where you’re free to love whomever you choose – you probably won’t like Grayality. It’s too raw, too real.

I loved it.

Sunday, September 25, 2022

My life is kinda nuts … #SciFiRomance #Comedy #AlienRomance @Askole

Forever Askole cover


My name is Ella McAllister, I’m a psychic witch and a healer. My life is kinda nuts. Not only do I have the Coletti hunters chasing me, but now I also have a very determined Askole High Commander after me. Why? I shot his ship down and it crash landed, and it blew up. Yep, itty-bitty pieces everywhere. My bad, but his ship was a dead ringer for a Rodan Marauder, and it was my civic duty to blow the enemy spacecraft out of the sky. Wasn’t it? Any hoo, I healed his owies and boogied.

I thought that was the end of it, but oh no. For some unknown reason, Sariel, the Askole High Commander, decided I would make him the perfect mate. As if. I think the blow to his head made him completely bonkers.

Sariel informed me the mating dance had begun and there was nothing I could do to stop it. The idiot had obviously never dealt with a witch before. I didn’t have the time to play games with him, so I did a little abracadabra alakazam and ran.

Sigh. The persistent Askole found me. Now I have a decision to make. Keep running or surrender to the High Commander. He is a damn good kisser.

Would the mating dance bring two lonely souls together? Who knew?


The pilot let out a furious roar.

Huh? He had been playing possum. “Relax, you aren’t paralyzed. I just restrained you,” I explained in Galactic Basic.

The pilot growled menacingly.

I patted his chest. “Very intimidating. Add in that horned helmet of yours, and I bet you scare the crap out of most folks. Once I heal you, you can go back to terrorizing the galaxy.” I stared at his armor. “But first I need to figure out how to get your armor off.”

The word belt formed in my mind.

I blinked in surprise. He was cooperating. “Thanks.” Sure enough there was a red crystal in the center of his belt. I pushed it.

Snikt. Schlik. Schlik. Schlik. Schlik. Schlik. Within seconds his armor retracted, revealing something out of a horror movie. Holy shit! I shivered as goosebumps erupted over my body and for a moment, I was tempted to run for my life. The only Askole warriors I had seen were on the news vids and they always wore their armor. Now I knew why. Tentacles squirmed about his snakelike features. His yellow eyes were clouded with pain. Instead of skin, he had black armor-plated scales. Whoa! Big Bad’s torso was sculpted perfection. Thick muscles corded his arms and legs. Who knew black scales could be so appealing and even sexy? My eyes bugged. Oh my God! He had the biggest penis I had ever seen. Their women must have gigantic vaginas.

About the Author

I was a 9-1-1 dispatcher for the Glendale Police Department and to keep from going totally bonkers – I mean people have no idea what a real emergency is. Take this for example: I answered, “9-1-1 emergency, what’s your emergency?” And this hysterical woman yelled, “My bird is in a tree.” Sometimes I really couldn’t help myself, so I said, “Birds have a tendency to do that, ma’am.” The woman screeched, “No! You don’t understand. My pet parakeet is in the tree. I’ve just got to get him down.” Like I said, not a clue. “I’m sorry ma’am but we don’t get birds out of trees.” The woman then cried, “But… What about my husband? He’s up there, too.” See what I had to deal with? To keep from hitting myself repeatedly in the head with my phone I took up writing.

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Saturday, September 24, 2022

Charity Sunday for Peace – #PeaceDay #DefundHate #CharitySunday @afsc_org

Charity Sunday Banner

Last Wednesday – the day I posted the sign-up for Charity Sunday – was the International Day of Peace.

Given all the conflicts in process around the globe – in Ukraine, in Syria, in Ethiopia, in Myanmar, in the Middle East, on the U.S./Mexican border – it may seem naïve and silly to hold such an observance. It’s difficult not to feel discouraged, or overwhelmed by the suffering, violence, and injustice that seems to be everywhere. What can one person do? How can I personally stop the murder, the rape, the deliberate destruction of people’s homes and livelihood?

I believe that making peace is as much an active process as making war. It begins in our own lives and communities: when we advocate for fairness and social justice, when we act with compassion, when we treat others as worthy and deserving of respect – no matter who they might be.

War serves the ends of a few, but brings suffering to the many. It thrives on fear, the deliberately created false narrative of the threatening, evil Other. With our daily choices, we can deconstruct this illusion, one individual at a time. The huge majority of people in the world, including the people we’ve been taught to believe are enemies, want the same things as we do: safety, shelter, family, freedom, respect, and a sense of belonging. Our languages, cultures and values may vary, but we have a great deal in common as members of humanity.

Peace building starts from this realization and works to share this vision with others.

For today’s Charity Sunday, I am supporting the American Friends Service Committee, a faith-based organization working for peace and social justice, in communities and in the halls of power. AFSC understands that war can’t be abolished with the stroke of a pen, and that peace can be planted and nourished, one person at a time. I encourage you to visit the AFSC website to learn about their actions and themes.

I’ll donate two dollars to AFSC for every comment I receive between today and the 30th of September.

Meanwhile, to entertain you, I have an excerpt from Refuge, one of the few stories I’ve written that has a character who’s a soldier. If you’d like a free copy of this tale, just say so in your comment. Include your email and let me know if you prefer mobi, epub or pdf format. This is not a giveaway; anyone who wants a copy can have one for the asking.


Excuse me, do you have a pencil?”

I jumped. I had been daydreaming about home, eating somtum and gai yang with Mum and my brother Daeng under the tamarind tree in the backyard. The light tap on my shoulder dragged me back to the smelly, dusty camp where I was supposed to be on guard.


A pencil? Or a pen?” The young woman gestured back towards a knot of kids gathered in the shade of the water tower. She held up a sheet of corrugated cardboard scavenged from some trash heap. “I’m teaching them their alphabet. I’ve got this, but nothing to write with.”

She wore a faded tee shirt, baggy shorts and flip flops. Her hair hung down her back in a messy ponytail tied with an old shoelace. Still I could see that she was pretty, slightly built, with sharper features and paler skin then the girls back home. Her smile appeared genuine, though her eyes appraised me nervously. I guessed that it took some courage for her to approach me, a uniformed soldier with a loaded rifle—never mind that I was only a year or two older than she was, and wanting nothing more than to go back to my family in Yasathon.

I leaned my gun against my thigh. “I’ve got a pencil back at the barracks, but I can’t leave my post until my shift is over. Maybe you could postpone your lessons until after three? I’ll bring it to you then.”

Her face lit up. She grabbed and squeezed my hands. Hers were tiny, but strong. “Oh, thank you, sir! Thank you.”

I blushed at her enthusiasm. “Never mind. Now you’d better go.” I’d noticed Sergeant Chokchai headed my way. He didn’t approve of what he called “fraternization” between us and the camp’s inhabitants.

Everything secure, Private Nu?” He loomed over me. I swallowed hard. He came from Bangkok. He had made it clear in his view, I was just a stupid hick from the Northeast.

Yes, sir. Everything is normal, sir.”

What were you doing, talking to that filthy Burmese cunt?”

I winced at his foulness. “Nothing. She wanted to know the time, that’s all.”

Why should she care? She’s not going anywhere!” Chokchai gave a nasty chuckle “You should know better, though. Don’t talk to them. Don’t get involved in their affairs. Oh, they’ll act all polite and respectful, but they’re snakes. They’ll stab you as soon as your back’s turned. You remember what happened to Sakon, don’t you?”

Yes, sir.” Sakon had been another sergeant. They had found him behind the mess hall with his throat slit. Everyone assumed that he’d been murdered by one of the refugees, even though he’d been a brutal man who had many enemies.

Just remember, they’re animals. Ignorant, superstitious animals.” He looked over his shoulder in the direction that the girl had disappeared, shaking his head in obvious disgust, before returning his unwelcome attention to me.

Private Bom has the runs. I want you to take his guard shift after you finish yours.”

But, sir...”

That’s an order, Private. Or are you tired of being a soldier?”

No, sir.” There were no jobs in our village these days. My mother depended on the thousand baht that I sent her each month, though she cried whenever I phoned her.

If army life is too tough, we can always send you back the rice fields.”

I can handle it, sir. But can I have fifteen minutes between shifts to go to the toilet and get something to drink?”

Chokchai’s grin made my skin crawl. I could tell that he wanted to say no. Then he decided that the extra four hours standing on guard was torture enough—for the moment. He nodded. “Why don’t you go now? I’ll take the watch until you get back. But you’d better be on time.”

Yes, sir.” I handed him my rifle. He slung it over his shoulder, then strolled over to lounge against a tree, out of the sun but still within view of the gate.

After a quick stop at the latrine, I hurried back to the thatched bamboo hut that served as our quarters. The single room dwelling was empty. Afternoon sunlight filtered in through the chinks in the walls. A fly buzzed in lazy circles near the ceiling.

I unlocked the chest at the foot of my cot and rummaged around until I found a brand new pencil. On impulse, I grabbed a cheap school notebook, too. I had planned to try keeping a journal. Between the work load and my homesickness, I hadn’t gotten around to writing a word in the three months that I’d been stationed here.

About to close the trunk, I hesitated. Maybe Chokchai was right. Maybe I shouldn’t get involved. It could be dangerous, if not physically than economically. I couldn’t afford to lose this job, awful as it was.

Nonsense. She might be chao khao, from the primitive hill tribes; she might even be dirty and disease-ridden, as Chokchai believed, but I couldn’t believe that she meant me any harm. She was just trying to survive.

* * *

Don’t forget to leave a comment and contribute to a more peaceful world. And let me know if you a copy of the story!

Thursday, September 22, 2022

Two broken men – #BDSM #GayRomance #Giveaway @MCRoth4

Unkinked Cover

Book Description

Two broken men. One secret addiction. No turning back.

When Derreck stumbles upon Maddy, who is sitting in his car and nearly sweating to death under the summer’s sun, he is at his breaking point.

But Maddy is just as lost, searching for a Dom he only knows by name and waiting in his car outside the club Unkinked on the tiny chance that the Dom might find him. When it is revealed that Derreck is the man Maddy has been searching for from the very beginning, it seems fate couldn’t get any sweeter.

Derreck invites Maddy into Unkinked as his guest, with the promise of the pain that Maddy so desperately craves. A scene that should have been simple opens Maddy’s mind to a new world and community that aren’t riddled with guilt or judgment.

Derreck knows he can’t let his sub slip away, but Maddy is keeping secrets from his new Dom—secrets that could change their relationship forever

Reader advisory: This book features pain play, edge play and knife play. One character has a history of addiction and self-harm.

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Unkinked by M.C. Roth

Book 2 in the It's a Kink Thing series -

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Stepping outside, the sun instantly soaked into his skin, blanketing him in warmth and urging sweat from his body in seconds. The sun had barely moved in the sky, blazing down with what must have been record-breaking heat.

He could barely feel his feet as he stumbled his way along the sidewalk to his car, stopping at the lamp post and leaning on it as he took a deep breath. The post seared through his shirt, heat bursting over his flesh until he thought he might erupt into flames. It did nothing to quell his exhaustion.

He’d never let it get quite that bad before, but he’d never stayed away so long, either. He hadn’t wanted to face Trick or Nav or anyone else. He just wanted relief. The apology had given him a touch of respite but not enough to calm the restless energy in his core.

You sure you’re okay?”

Derreck looked up and his gaze followed the sound of the voice.

The guy was still sitting in his car, as if it hadn’t been almost an hour. He had pushed up one sleeve of his sweater, one thin and delicate wrist exposed, but the rest of his upper body was still covered with thick, black material. The flush on his cheeks and the sweat in his hair told of how hot he must’ve been, but he was making no move to remove his sweater.

Still waiting?” asked Derreck, looking back at the club entrance. None of the couples had been missing a third that he knew of. And no Dom would leave their sub in a hot car like he was some sort of oven-baked dog.

No responsible Dom, at least.

The man nodded, flicking his gaze to the door and back to Derreck quickly. His eyes had gone shiny, as if he was just managing to hold back tears. How long had he been there before Derreck had come to the club? How long would he wait?

It pulled at what few heartstrings Derreck had, but it also spoke to his Dominant side.

It pissed him the fuck off is what it did. He clenched his hands into fists, crossing his arms and staring down at the man in his car.

Who are they? I’ll go get them for you,” said Derreck. There was no way he was walking away with this guy still sitting in his car as he got closer and closer to heatstroke.

Oh.” The man dropped his gaze, the pureness of his submission pulling Derreck deeper into the strange thrall. His cheeks flushed brighter, sweat beading under his eyes.

Perhaps it had been the wrong question. Some Doms insisted on titles, and Derreck would have no luck if the guy simply said ‘Sir’ or ‘Master’.

Describe what they look like,” said Derreck, taking a deep breath to keep the anger out of his voice. He was definitely kicking someone’s ass tonight—just not in the way he’d hoped.

I—I don’t know,” said the man, his gaze still fixed on his lap. “I only have his name. Someone—a friend online—gave me his name and said that he might be able to help me. They said he comes to this club, but I can’t get in without an invite.”

You can if you’re a guest,” said Derreck, letting out a sigh. This was just getting stranger and stranger. “Your friend can invite you as a guest, and you’ll have a temporary pass.”

Oh, they aren’t a member,” he said, finally looking up, but only for a moment. “They went to an open house event here years ago, but they don’t live in the city. I don’t know anyone with a membership.”

It was a conundrum that had always bothered Derreck. Privacy came with the price of inaccessibility and exclusivity, especially for subs who were heartbreakingly shy. He would still take his privacy, though. The one-and-done kinksters could fuck off.

He ran a hand over his scalp, scratching the short, tight curls. It was too fucking hot to think, and he had to get off the street before he passed out.

What’s the name, then? I can tell you if they are here,” said Derreck. He wouldn’t give away much, because if this guy was a stalker, which was quickly becoming a possibility, then he didn’t want to encourage him.

Oh, it’s… Let me grab my phone. I have it in there.” He fumbled with his pockets, finally sliding his phone out from the pouch in his sweater. Why the hell was he wearing so many layers? Derreck was getting warmer just looking at him. “I saved it in here, ’cause I’m terrible with names. The guy’s name is Derreck.”

Derreck almost choked on his spit when he heard his own name. Cocking his head to the side, he dragged his gaze up and down the guy’s form one more time. His first impression had been pure madness, but he never was one to hold on to a first impression for long. He usually waited until the sixth before he really made up his mind.

The guy was in shorts and flip-flops, which Derreck hadn’t noticed before. It couldn’t have been great for driving, but at least he wasn’t insane enough to wear long pants along with his sweater. His clothes were good quality but well worn, so he probably wasn’t out to try to kidnap Derreck. He didn’t stand a chance either way, unless he had a gun in his pocket.

The man fiddled with his thumbs as Derreck watched him, the chewed edge of his nail vibrant with fresh blood. All his nails were like that—bitten past the quick to the delicate pink flesh beneath.

How did your friend say he could help you?” asked Derreck, eyeing the guy’s cell phone. It was a new model, fresh out of the store with a custom case.

I…” The man trailed off, bringing his thumb to his mouth and catching the vermillion edge with his teeth. A fresh droplet of blood oozed up, shining against his lip until he slowly dragged it away with his tongue.

I heard he could hurt me,” said the man, so quietly that Derreck had to strain to hear him. “I need someone to hurt me.”

Pushing away from the post, Derreck circled around the car and pulled the door open with a jerk. The man’s eyes went wide and he drew back, shrinking into his seat as Derreck loomed over the car.

What’s your name?” asked Derreck, lowering himself into a squat. It left the man with a slight height advantage, hopefully easing some of his fear that had sprung up. Derreck reached for the man’s hand, pulling his thumb from his mouth. The flesh was burning beneath his palms, slick with sweat and clammy.

Maddy,” he said, letting out a sigh at the touch.

There was no buzzing under Derreck’s skin or desire to wipe his fingers clean. It was the rare perfection that always seemed to elude Derreck when he needed it most.

And why do you want me to hurt you, Maddy?” asked Derreck, watching as Maddy’s eyes went wide with realization.

So I don’t hurt myself.”

About the Author

M.C. Roth -

M.C. Roth lives in Canada and loves every season, even the dreaded Canadian winter. She graduated with honours from the Associate Diploma Program in Veterinary Technology at the University of Guelph before choosing a different career path.

Between caring for her young son, spending time with her husband, and feeding treats to her menagerie of animals, she still spends every spare second devoted to her passion for writing.

She loves growing peppers that are hot enough to make grown men cry, but she doesn’t like spicy food herself. Her favourite thing, other than writing of course, is to find a quiet place in the wilderness and listen to the birds while dreaming about the gorgeous men in her head.

Find out more about M.C. Roth at her website -

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